#just gotta arrange everything all nice and neat

[shalotttower]

Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

*

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

*

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

*

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #the collector #the collector (2009) #asa emory #asa emory x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers

[koshkamartell]

Chapter 6 - The Heartbreak

masterlist

I sat in Joel's car and scanned the dashboard and interior - it was clean and neat, unlike the cars my girlfriends and I shared, which were littered with random bits of trash, smudges of make up, and lost hair brushes and hair ties. I could just recognise The Eagles playing low on the stereo.

He looked good. Simple, casual, but so handsome. His beard had grown a little more and it gave him a more rugged appearance.

"Everything okay?" Joel sked, looking over at me.

"Mm-hmm."

He reached over and rested his big hand on my thigh as he steered the wheel with the other. When I felt the warm weight of his calloused palm a hot rush of desire flooded my stomach, making my thighs clamp together. I put my hand half on top of his and wrapped my fingers around it, secretly marveling at how broad it was.

We drove 15 minutes to the gelato parlour in the city that we had decided on without much conversation. It was a comfortable quiet that we both seemed to enjoy.

~~~~~~

We sat opposite each other at a booth in the parlour with two cups of gelato infront of us. I scooped a small spoonful of peanut butter brownie gelato from my cup and tasted it.

"Oh my god, it's so good. You have to try it."

Joel used his spoon to take a small scoop of it from my cup and put it in his mouth. "Mmm," he nodded as he rolled it around his mouth. "Yeah. It's good. Real sweet though."

"Alot better than boring vanilla." I teased.

"Nothin' wrong with vanilla." Joel took a lick of his spoon.

"Why have vanilla when you can have something like chocolate? Or espresso?"

"Never tried espresso icecream," Joel mumbled through a mouthful of gelato. "Could just drink coffee instead. I like vanilla."

"You gotta live a little, Joel. I'll be right back."

I stood up before he could say anything and sashayed up to the display counter with all the flavours neatly arranged behind the glass. It only took me a minute to order a cone of espresso gelato, and when I returned to our booth with a triumphant grin on my face, Joel was standing up and talking to a man beside him.

The man was striking; he was slightly younger than Joel and had curly black hair, olive skin and sensual hooded brown eyes. When I approached the booth both men turned to face me, and I noticed his eyes wander down my body and back up to my face. There was a seductive charm to his expression that I didn't know how to react to.

There was brief, awkward silence until Oscar and I looked expectantly at Joel.

"Alessandra, this is Oscar." Joel mumbled gruffly. "We've known each other for a long time."

"Oh," I smiled at Oscar. "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Well hello," Oscar smiled back, a slight mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sweetie."

I slid down into the booth and Joel took the opportunity to end the conversation.

"See you 'round, Oscar."

"Good to see you, man." He gave Joel a pat on the shoulder. "And nice to meet you, Alessandra."

I gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. When Oscar left the parlour and Joel sat down again, I gave him an inquisitive look. "Is he your good friend?"

"No," Joel said with a definitive grunt. I wanted to ask more but before I cluld he motioned to the cone in my hand. "Ya didn't like your...peanut butter whatever?"

I smiled sweetly. "It's for us to share. It's espresso. Please try it."

There was a large pond in the middle of the park with ducks paddling in the water and waddling up to the green grass to explore. The path was wide and littered with yellow autumn leaves that danced at our feet. We walked at a slow pace, observing the ducks and sharing snippets of conversation. At one stage our hands brushed against one another and without saying anything, I slid my hand into his and he clasped it warmly with his big mitt.

Joel chuckled and gave a small shake of his head

. When we finished eating and then went for a stroll to a picturesque park a few blocks away. On the way there Joel rested his hand lightly on my lower back and kept close next to me, pulling me against him when the sidewalk was particularly bustling with people.

We came to a bench and sat down together. Joel let go of my hand and instead slid his arm on the bench around the back of me. I leaned into the crook of his arm and sighed contentedly, feeling protected and safe. We stayed close like that until it started to get cold and we agreed to retreat back to the car and go back to my place.

~~~~~~

Back at my apartment Joel stood in the kitchen and watched me prepare my mug of tea and his mug of black coffee.

"You remembered," he murmured, appearing a little impressed.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "It's not like it's hard to remember or anything."

"Too boring, huh?" He teased, grinning. "Too...vanilla?"

I laughed and poured the hot water into the mugs. Tuddy had wandered into the kitchen and began nuzzling herself against Joel's leg.

"Ally?" Joel's voice pulled me back from my deep thoughts.

"Oh, hey Tuddy." He cooed.

Joel crouched down and stroked her back, whispering words of affection to her, and she purred loudly against his hand. I had to resist the urge to take a picture of the sweet interaction. I looked over to the pretty pink roses sitting on the kitchen bench and it suddenly occured to me how much I enjoyed having Joel at my apartment. Seeing Tuddy drawn to him solidified this realisation, as did the feelings undeniably developing in my heart. I sighed at the thought of inevitable heart break and tried to dismiss its intrusion into my mind.

I looked at him and couldn't help break out into a smile at his use of my nickname. "Hmm?"

He stood up, his knees cracking, and looked at me with his puppy dog eyes, concerned and somehow a little sad. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." I took a sip of my tea. "Thank you for today, I had a lovely time with you."

Joel stepped towards me and took my hand in his, brushing his thumb against my skin tenderly. "Thank you for bein' with me. I hope I wasn't too old and borin' for you?"

I giggled and slid my arms around his waist, cuddling into him. "Yep, but I like you anyway."

Joel chuckled and wrapped his arms around me to hold me against his chest. "You're cruel, you know that?"

He planted a kiss on the top of my head and gave me a small squeeze. "So tell me. Why do you like this borin' old man?"

"Oh?" Joel murmured into my hair, one of his hands sliding down my back. "That all?"

I inhaled his musky, sweet smell and nuzzled into his chest. "Mmmm...because you smell good."

"And you're kinda sexy," I mumbled, trying to hold back my giggles. He touched my ass and gave it a squeeze. I pressed against his body and sighed softly.

"Sexy, huh?"

Tuddy weaved inbetween our legs and meowed to us, making me giggle. Joel put his other hand up to my chin and made me look up into his eyes.

I reluctantly walked with Joel to the front door to say goodbye. We shared a tender kiss, our lips lingering, and I traced the outline of his patchy beard with the tip of my finger.

"Honey. I got a customer comin' around the workshop at 6, I have to go. I'm sorry." He said regretfully. He gave me a gentle kiss on the lips.

Even though Joel had already told me about his meeting on the phone the other night when we were organising our date, I still felt disappointed. I pouted and let out a small whine.

"I wish I could stay, Ally, but I can't." Joel sighed. "Sorry, baby."

"I'll call you durin' the week, okay?" He whispered. "Goodbye, Alessandra."

I leaned against the door frame and sighed, my body prickling with impotent lust.

"Bye," I mumbled. Joel walked out and I shut the door behind him. Fuck. It was only our first official date and I was already feeling something for him.

~~~~~~

Anna and I sat in a small cafe in Westor on Sunday afternoon. We had visited some second hand markets and a book shop nearby that morning and stopped to enjoy something to eat. We sat in comfy arm chairs facing each other and sighed, grateful to be resting our feet. Anna checked her phone.

"I can't believe it took so long for Toni to actually sleep with Red Shi- I mean Adam." Anna laughed.

"Mark will come get us in an hour," she said.

We ordered some food and coffee and sat talking as we ate. Our table faced the main street and we people watched while we dined, admiring the different varieties of fashion and types of people who passed by on the sidewalks. We gossiped about everything going on in our lives.

"I know, right?" I laughed as well.

Toni had written in our group chat about her latest date with Adam and that they had progressed to the next step physically.

Alessandra: lol are you referring to what I think you're referring to? 😉

Toni: it happened

Anna: what?

Ness: omg you slut lmao you guys finally fucked

Toni: yes after drinks at Samba and it was AMAZING thanks 🍆💦

Anna: need all the details asap please! I'll come up for drinks

After eating lunch Anna got up to go to the bathroom and I remained at our table and waited for her. I looked at my phone and checked my notifications and messages. Joel and I had spoken through text messages and calls every second day that week. I hadn't heard from him on that day and toyed with the idea of surprising him after my date with Anna.

I sighed and reached out for a cookie on the table infront of me. At that same moment, I looked up over at the restaurant across the road. My heart sank as I recognised Joel there, hugging a woman at one of the tables inside. She was around his age, tall and blonde and pretty. They pulled away from the hug and sat down together, smiling and talking. My heart leapt up into my throat and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Tears welled in my eyes and I quickly blinked them away. I was fortunate that they had not seen me in the cafe; I hurriedly collected my hand bag and shopping bags and stood up to leave. Anna had returned just as I was going.

"Ally, where are you going?" Anna frowned, her concerned eyes searching my face for an answer. "What happened?"

I swallowed the pain lodged in my throat and mumbled hoarsely. "Nothing. I think I'm having an anxiety attack, that's all. I want to go home."

Anna rubbed my back. "Oh babe, that is horrible. Alright, let's go. I'll get us an Uber. Let me get my stuff."

She collected her shopping bags and purse and she ushered me out of the cafe. I kept my head down as we walked briskly around the corner and waited for the Uber to pick us up.

~~~~~~

I wanted nothing more than to throw myself on my bed and unleash my anguish into my pillow. I turned on the radio to try drown out the taunting voice in my head.

I drove home by myself. I was calm and silent, my eyes fixed on the road despite the tears pooling and spilling down my cheeks. My mind raced with the images of Joel hugging the blonde woman, of him smiling at her.

You're so young and dumb and naive! Did you really think he would be interested in you? He was just playing with you. Just fuck toy for him when he's bored.

~~~~~~

I spent the next few days isolated from everyone. I lied and told the girls I had a cold and was too sick to see anyone or really talk. I still went to work in an attempt to keep occupied and my mind busy. I hardly used my phone, instead ignoring the majority of messages and calls from everyone. Joel had called on Sunday evening but I ignored it. He texted Monday as well, then tried calling Monday night. I switched my phone to silent and immersed myself in books and movies for company. He tried to contact me again on Wednesday and Thursday morning. I continued to ignore him.

On Thursday night I saw a message in the girls group from Anna.

Anna: hey girls, there's a party on at the cabin this Saturday! Can you come up this weekend?

Ness: yessss!!!

Toni: I've got my coworker's party I have to go to 😭😭😭

I considered whether I should go or not. After four days of being withdrawn and heart broken I decided I needed to go out and drown my sorrows in partying with my friends. I messaged them.

Alessandra: I'm feeling better, definitely going to come!

~~~~~~

Ness and I drove up to Westor together. I wore my favourite black slinky dress and left my hair down. I looked good but felt like shit and just wanted to get drunk and have fun with the girls. We arrived at the cabin around 8.30pm and found the party was already chaotic; some people were already tipsy and there had been an argument between two guys that threatened to escalate until Mark's older brother diffused the scene. Ness and I roamed around until we found Anna and Mark. They were hanging out with Luke and a few others, doing shots and dancing to the blaring music.

Ness and I joined in and got lost in the hazy disorder of it all. We immersed ourselves into dancing and drinking and letting the music possess all of our senses. A few hours passed by I struggled free from the dance floor and motioned to Ness that I was going outside. I needed a break from the incessant noise.

I found a quiet spot outside around the rear of the property. I fumbled in my pocket for the joint Ness that given me and then realised I did not have a lighter.

"Fuck sake," I muttered to myself.

"You okay?" Luke asked, appearing out of no where. My senses were mellowed and I wasn't startled by his sudden approach.

"Mmhmm," I held the joint up. "I just haven't got a lighter."

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" Luke's tone shifted to genuine concern.

Luke smiled and dug around in his jeans and produced a lighter. "I gotcha."

I put the joint inbetween my lips and allowed Luke to light it. I took a drag and closed my eyes.

I nodded. "Yeah, just...wanna forget things tonight." I mumbled. I passed him the joint and he took a hit.

"I feel you."

We were silent for a few moments. Then Luke embraced me without saying a word. I leaned into his hug and savoured the warmth of his arms.

"Let me know if you wanna talk about stuff." He said when he pulled back. "I'm a good listener."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Hey! There you are!" Anna exclaimed. "I've been looking for you guys. We need to go get some more beer and chips."

Luke handed me back the joint. "Alright alright, we are coming."

~~~~~~

The music blared in the car as we drove to the convenience store. Mark and Ness were arguing over whose turn it was to choose the next song.

"Please, no more Drake." Mark groaned. "Anything but him."

"Oh, like we wanna hear your dubstep bullshit." Ness teased back.

"Or maybe just shut the fuck up and I'll yodel for you instead." Luke interjected.

"How about you all shut the fuck up and let me choose for once," Ness growled. Anna, Luke and I roared with laughter.

"Are you all seriously high right now?" Mark asked, incredulous.

He pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. Our group hopped out, talking and laughing loudly.

"I want that drink I had last time, that pink one." Anna said.

"I'm getting some chocolate," I said.

"I want chips." Luke strolled beside me. We all walked to the automatic doors of the store. We were loud and exuberant but the attendant wasn't bothered by us, having been used to young party goers regularly coming in for late night supplies every weekend.

"Where's the Kinder Bouno?" I pouted. "I'm craving one so bad right now."

"Someone shout me a coke please," Ness pleaded. We wandered down the snacks and confectionery aisle.

"Ally!" Luke called out. "What flavour chips?"

"Any!" I called back.

I hadn't realised it but Joel had been in the store with Adam and another friend when we entered. They stood by the cash register to pay for their gas and watched us.

"Where's my pink drink?" Anna complained.

"They don't sell that here." Mark wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Sorry, babe. We will stop at the liquor store after this."

"Found the Kinder!" Luke announced triumphantly. He held up two packets. "Last two on the shelf."

"Yessss, thank you!" I hugged him. "You're the best."

"Okay, let's go," Mark said. When we went to the cash register, we saw Joel and his friends. I stiffened and avoided eye contact. Mark and Anna greeted them warmly and made conversation with them while Mark paid for the chips, chocolate and coke.

"Adam! You're Toni's boyfriend." Anna laughed, clearly drunk.

"Just how old are you by the way?" Ness teased. "Do you have some sort of Leonardo thing going on?"

Adam laughed good naturedly. "No, Ness. And I'm 43. I already told you that."

Joel stood awkwardly and stared at me, his eyebrows furrowed. Ness whispered something in my ear, a private joke of ours from several years ago, and we both burst out laughing. Luke slung his arm around my shoulder.

"So, I get half of the chocolate, right?" He teased.

"No way," I protested. "It's all mine."

"Aw, come on," he laughed. "Finders fee."

"Okay, let's go." Mark said when he finished paying. "See ya guys," he nodded to Pedro and his friends.

They said goodbye and we walked back out to the car. As we piled into Mark's car I knew Joel would be watching.

[sunnyrinusstudies]

Going FOSS: An Intro to Open-Source software for studyblr (and also some privacy related bits)

Source for Header Image

Intro & attempt at TLDR

Hey everyone! Today I’d like to tell y’all something about Open Source Software, and also Why this should matter to you! This’ll probably be the first post of a series I intend to do, because I believe the Studyblr community, even the non-nerd folks, could really benefit from switching some things out in their digital environment. Since this is a long post, I attempted to summarise it below, please do read on if you have the spoons tho!

TLDR?

FOSS stands for “Free and Open Source Software” the “free” part doesn’t necessarily mean it’s free as in free pizza, but mostly means free as in freedom.

There’s a humongous amount of variants on this concept, but the core of FOSS specifically is the four freedoms:

1. To run the program however you want and for whatever you want

2. To study how the program works and to change it in whatever way you want

3. To be able to share it with whomever you feel like

4. To be able to share your modified version with whomever you want

There’s a whole host of software licenses built around these concepts, you can check those out at the Open Source Initiative website, or at Choose A License. Both have a good summary of what they all stand for.

Open Source software is used for a lot of products, nearly every single webserver is an Apache Linux server, Google chrome is built on top of their open source chromium (google is still the devil, but y’know, it’s an example), and even deep deep down, Apple computers run on top of a Linux Kernel. Many more can be listed, but I won’t do that otherwise this isn’t a TLDR anymore.

Now, Why is this important for you? The Open Source Initiative summed it up real nicely already, but heres a short paraphrase:

Control & Security. If software is open source then you can check if it really works the way it does, and to make sure it’s not spying on you. Even if you don’t have the skills for it, someone else who does will be able to check. Also if you don’t like how something works in a program, then you’ll be able to change it or find someone else’s changed version that you like more.

Training. People who want to learn programming can use the code to see what makes programs tick, as well as use it as a guide for their own projects.

Stability. Because everything’s out in the open, that means someone else can take up maintaining a project or make a successor of it, in case the original developers suddenly quit working on it. This is especially important when it’s software that’s absolutely critical for certain tasks.

Community. It’s not just one program. It’s a lot of people working together to make, test, use, and promote a project they really love. Lots of projects end up with a dedicated fanbase that helps support the developers in continuing to work on the software.

I’d like to add one more tho: Privacy, which ties in a lot with the security part. Nowadays with protests going on and everything being online due to the pandemic, folks have been and will be confronted much more with the impact of privacy, and lack thereof. Open Source software means that if any company or group tries to spy on you, then you and anyone who feels like checking, will be able to know and take action on it. Here’s the EFF page on privacy and why it should matter to you

If that got your attention then read on past the readmore button! Or, if nothing else maybe check out the Free and Open Source Software portal on Wikipedia? Or maybe the resources page of the Open Source Initiative?

Terminology: Let’s get that out of the way first

Open Source: The source code that a program is made up of is freely accessible, anyone can look at it and check whether it works well enough or to make sure it doesn’t spy on you.

FOSS: Free and Open Source Software. This doesn’t mean that you don’t need to pay for it, it’s free as in freedom and free speech, not free pizza.

There are four freedoms associated with FOSS:

The freedom to run the program as you wish, for any purpose (freedom 0).

The freedom to study how the program works, and change it so it does your computing as you wish (freedom 1). Access to the source code is a precondition for this.

The freedom to redistribute copies so you can help others (freedom 2).

The freedom to distribute copies of your modified versions to others (freedom 3).

By doing this you can give the whole community a chance to benefit from your changes. Access to the source code is a precondition for this.

FLOSS: Free and Libre Open Source Software. This time it is “free” as in free pizza. The “libre” is french for “free” as in freedom.

GRATIS: Sometimes people use this word to mean “free” as in free pizza. Usually alongside “FOSS”

Licenses : A license is something that tells others what they can or cannot do with your code. Licenses also apply to art and literature, those are copyright licenses. There are many different software licenses and I’m not going to be able to list them all.

The biggest players however are:

Apache License 2.0

The 3-Clause BSD License

GNU General Public License (also known as GPL)

MIT License

Mozilla Public License 2.0

There’s even more and you can find a list of them Here on the Open Source Initiative site There’s so many licenses that there’s even a Choose A License site, where you can pick a license depending on what you want it to achieve

Who and/or what even uses open source software?

You don’t need to be some nerd to benefit from Open Source software, in fact, you’re using open source software right now! The biggest example is the whole entire internet. Websites are stored on servers, and nearly every single webserver is a Linux server. The second biggest browser Firefox is open source, and even google chrome is built on top of “chromium” an open source base. If you dont use an iPhone, then you’re probably on an Android phone. Guess what? Android is part of the Android Open Source Project, which is then built upon a GNU/Linux base. All Open Source. Chromebooks? Built on top of a Linux kernel (like a non-patented engine you could put into any motor vehicle you’d like). Heck, even Apple computers are, at their core, built on top of a Linux kernel.

Neat apps you may wanna check out!

I’ve made a little list of apps that might be especially useful for studyblr folks, but depending on how well this post does I’ll probably make some more posts for specific apps.

TiddlyWiki, has a bajillion different ways to organise your thoughts, and also a lot of variant builds out there. Check out their table of contents if you feel lost! There’s versions available for most big browsers, as well as windows, linux, mac, android, and iOS.

AnyType, is an app that looks and almost exactly like notion, but is much more decentralised. They’re currently still in development but if you want to support them, sign up for early access and give them some feedback so they know what works and doesn’t! They’re still in closed alpha, but are intending to give beta access to about 100 folks at a time throughout 2021, so please sign up if this looks interesting to you!

Trilium Notes, is slightly more like a “notebook”, however you can arrange your notes in nearly infinitely deep folders. You can use things like Relation Maps & Link Maps to visualise your notes and how they go together. There’s even more they do and I just cant list it all, so go check out their stuff for a more comprehensive overview! Works on windows, linux, and (unsupported) mac

LibreOffice and ONLYOFFICE are two office suites that function just as well as micro$oft office, often Even Better in my experience. I’ve used LibreOffice for years now and honestly? never going back. OnlyOffice is technically free (as in pizza), but it’s a slight hassle to get everything set up, cause you need to set it up on a server. They have a paid and hosted version available with educational discounts, but honestly i’d go with LibreOffice.

OnePile, is an app I haven’t used myself since it only runs on Apple stuff. But I’ve heard a lot of good things about it so that’s why it’s in here. It looks like it works similar to most general “note taking notebook” apps. Looks really pretty too honestly.

EtherPad, is similar to ONLYOFFICE, however this one’s a lot more focused on specifically text documents. Works with real-time collaboration which is really neat.

Anything that FramaSoft has going on. They’re a non-profit organisation, dedicated to promoting digital freedom. A lot of open source cloud related things are not really useful to people who don’t have the time and/or money to set up a whole-ass server. That’s where FramaSoft comes in, they do it for you. Just about everything they offer (here’s a full overview) are free (as in free pizza). They also have a separate site to help you get started!

It’s not free to run it all on their side, so if you find yourself interested in using their services please try to support them any way you monetarily can! (they even have a “minetest” server (not minecraft, deeeefinitely not minecraft))

Joplin!! Which is also what I used to write this post so I wouldn’t have to use The Tumble’s post writing thing. It’s good for taking notes, has a bunch of neat plug-ins, and can also sync with a variety of cloud services!

Nextcloud For if you want to go just that little bit further on the open source and the privacy. Nextcloud has honestly way too many features for me to list, but the important parts are that it’s a nigh perfect replacement for office365, and probably even GSuite. The one caveat is that you either gotta host it yourself, or get someone else to host it for you. Framasoft (mentioned above), has a nextcloud instance. It works on just about every single platform, and can integrate with an absurd amount of services. Here’s a list of providers that work with nextcloud, and what different apps they have installed on their server.

I personally use Disroot, because they’re a local (as in, my country) non-profit that offer about 2gb of free storage, and then for about 15 cents per GB per month you can get more storage if you want. They also have an email service which is hella neat. Their one main rule is Do Not Use For Business Purposes, because they’re here to help the individual folks, not companies.

Neat Links you may also want to look at!

Here are some sources, and also resources that I used for this post. There’s also some stuff here that I think folks may be interested in in general.

General Wikipedia Article on Open Source Software

The Free and Open Source Software portal on Wikipedia

Resources page of the Open Source Initiative

Free Software Foundation definition of “free software”

itsfoss page on what FOSS means

itsfoss page on the history of FOSS

Open Source Software Foundation list of projects and apps they really like

Open Source Initiative on “the open source way”, and how it goes beyond software

Check out literally anything the Electronic Frontier Foundation has going on maybe?

TED talk on privacy and why it’s important

The Surveillance Self Defense project by the EFF

This EFF page on privacy for students

ExpressVPN article on privacy (not necessarily endorsing this company, just a good article)

What’s next?

I’ll probably make some more posts on specific kinds of software that I think folks may like. Or maybe a general overview on the more privacy forcused reasons and solutions for doing all of this.

Future post ideas, none of these are set in stone:

Open source Note taking apps

Replacements for just about Every Single google service I can think of

My personal setup

Open source / privacy conscious social media that studyblr folks may be into

Chatting, Calling, Videocalling: Discord and whatsapp alternatives etc

??? More studyblr apps that could do with a FOSS alternative??

How to support open source when you’re not a big fudgin nerd

How to be better at digital privacy and security, while still maintaining that studyblr aesthetic

Apps, software, other stuff, for specific areas of study maybe?

Feel free to suggest other ideas! Or leave feedback! This is my first big resource post so I wanna know if/how I can do better when I make another one!

#stuff i made #FOSS #open source #masterpost #studyblr #studyblr resources #app recommendation #studyblr tips #study blog #The Studyblr Foss Guide #athenastudying #caffeinestudy #einstetic #lattestudies #myhoneststudyblr #heypeachblossom #heyreags #stuhde #i put so much effort into this and its not even that good but i just couldnt Not post it anymore #just had to get this dang thing outta my drafts folder and not think about it too much anymore #obsidianstudy #asteristudy #heynesi

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Lap

You usually turn to Chris when you’re drunk, but after hearing him say he doesn’t like it, you go to Tom instead. Chris gets jealous and tries to get you to understand why.  

-

           “Chrisssss,” you slurred as you held your eighth, yes, eighth beer in your hand, walking (as well as you could) over to your co-star. He was sitting at one of the bar’s booths, talking with Anthony and one of the stunt doubles that was on set that day. He grinned when he looked over at you and just nodded.

           “Hey, kid,” he said. You went to where he was sitting and plopped down on his lap, making Anthony laugh a little bit. “You okay?”

           “Just tired.” You always went to Chris when you were drunk. Probably because you were too scared to tell him you liked him when you were sober, so you could be close to him and blame it on being drunk. You leaned back on his chest as he balanced you on his lap, his arms around your waist. It was just normal at this point, for you and him and everyone else. Most people could probably tell that you had ulterior motives, but at the same time, Chris was a great friend and you trusted him way more than almost anyone on the planet.

           “Alright, kiddo, let’s go, let me get you home,” Chris finally said, God knows how long later. You nodded and stood up shakily, feeling the effects of the alcohol still, and Chris put an arm around your back as he led you out to the car. You knew he wouldn’t drive if he’d had too much to drink, so you trusted him.

           “But the tab!”

           “I got a closed tab and I made sure you got one too.”

           “I love you.” He chuckled.

           “Yeah, only when you’re drunk. Okay, come on.” He led you into his car’s passenger seat, buckled up for you, and then got in on his side. You leaned your head on the windowsill, and he rolled it down just a little bit so you could get some fresh air. You’d gotten sick only once, you had a stomach of steel, so he was more worried about your hangover than the rest of your night.

           He got you back to your apartment and opened the door for you. You stepped in and out of your heels, which he grabbed, and he put your purse on the counter after fishing out your phone. He got you into the bedroom and sat you down on your bed. His fingers carefully pulled off your fake eyelashes and he handed you a makeup wipe before disappearing again. You looked out of the corner of your eye to see him grabbing some clothes, and then he appeared at the side of your bed to plug your phone in. You were absolutely shameless as you changed in front of him, but it wasn’t the first time. You swore you could feel his eyes linger on your chest and the heat rose to your cheeks, but you didn’t say anything. Even drunk you was scared to cross the final line.

           “Thank you,” you slurred a few minutes later as he tucked you into your bed. “You should stay.”

           “I gotta be at makeup at 6, otherwise I’d be camping out on your couch.” He turned off the light to your bedroom and took his keyring out, finding the key to your apartment, and locked it for you before going back home. You slept like a baby that night – mostly because you were wearing actual comfortable clothes instead of the tight, uncomfortable dress you were in earlier.

           You stumbled out the next morning to the kitchen, where Chris had left everything neat and tidy, including putting a bottle of pedialyte in the fridge for you with a post-it note that had a smiley face on it. You made it to set just in time and walked up to the makeup trailer, noticing that Chris was already there, and he sounded like he was talking to Elizabeth.

           “I love her. I do. But I just wish she’d stop because it’s… I don’t know. It’s confusing. Because…” You walked into the makeup trailer, too bold to shy away, and Chris shut up and flashed you a smile. You didn’t give him one back. You’d already texted him to say thank you for taking care of you, so you didn’t really need to talk to him. And you didn’t have a scene with him, so the next time you’d see him would be later that night at another bar night.

           You didn’t need to listen to his whole sentence because you knew what you were hearing. He thought you were a burden. A drunken burden much too young for him. You decided that you’d tone it down. If you went to someone that night, you would go to someone else. Maybe another male cast member. If you were that much of a burden on Chris, you just wouldn’t bother him. That was that.

           You managed to avoid him for the rest of the day and even waited for him to leave the parking lot before even leaving your trailer to go to your car. But you were trying to be crafty about avoiding him – you didn’t quite want him to know that you were actually avoiding him. So that night you hung around Tom, more than usual. You were good friends with Tom, and you were the same age, so you were continuously the youngest ones on set at any given time. Even though you’d gotten close with Chris, your character had a lot of scenes with Tom’s character, so you hung out a lot. You’d even confessed to him that you liked Chris, and Tom had said that he was pretty sure Chris liked you too. Obviously not, though, if he’s said that.

           “Tommyyyyy,” you groaned. He turned around and laughed at you, and even though you were in a different bar it was set up the same way. Chris was sitting at a booth across the room, but he had a clear path to see you as you sat down on Tom’s lap.

           “You comfy?” Tom asked.

           “Very,” you giggled drunkenly. You weren’t nearly as drunk as you had been the night before, but you were just drunk enough that your didn’t care about anything. You felt like you were getting punched in the gut, though, when you saw Chris looking over at you. He didn’t smile, and that made you angry. You crossed your arms across your chest and tried to enjoy the night with Tom and his friend Harrison, but you kept looking over at him. And he kept looking over at you. And you felt the heat on your cheeks and you decided that you should probably just leave before things got any weirder.

           “Where are you going?” Tom asked.

           “Home,” you responded, sliding off of his lap and re-arranging your dress. “I’ll see you guys on Monday.”

           “Alright. Let me know when you get home.” You smiled at Tom as you walked up to the bar to take care of your tab, and annoyingly, Chris got up and walked over to you. You sighed, hoping he wouldn’t talk to you, but you were hoping for a little too much.

           “What?” You asked. “Come to tell me what a burden I am?” Chris’s face turned red and he realized.

           “That’s why you’re avoiding me. You heard what I was saying in the trailer and you probably didn’t hear the right part of it.” You crossed your arms after sliding your debit card across the wooden bar.

           “You got that right. All I heard was annoying and it was confusing. I don’t know what part of it’s confusing, but…” The bartender gave you your card back and you slid it into your wallet, briefly looking down to make sure it was there. And then you started to walk away, but Chris caught you.

           “Just… Let me take you home and explain things to you.” You thought about it for a second, looking down. “Please?” Why could you never refuse him?

           “Are you jealous that I was sitting with Tom?”

           “On him, actually, and… maybe.” Chris just grabbed your arm and led you out to his car. He didn’t buckle your seatbelt for you, but that was because you were sober enough to do it yourself. Barely. You let him drive you home without him saying a single word, and when you got back to your apartment you half expected for him to just leave you there. But he got out. He really wanted to talk, didn’t he?

           “Sit,” he instructed. You sat down on your crappy couch and waited for him to start talking. He started pacing the room like he didn’t quite know what to say. That was weird – Chris always knew what to say, always, even when he was just taking a shot in the dark.

           “Well?” You asked, a little impatient. Your head was starting to hurt.

           “You didn’t hear what I fully said.”

          “You said that you want me to stop, what I didn’t stay long enough to figure out, because it’s annoying and confusing. And then you get mad at me for sitting with Tom, which, by the way, is an asshole thing to get mad about.” Chris sighed, running his hand through his hair and tugging on it.

          “What I said was that I wish you’d stop being so clingy and coming and sitting on my lap all the time and being so close to me when you’re drunk and not sober. And it’s not that I don’t like it, but it’s fucking confusing. Really confusing. Because you make it seem like you like me or something and I like you too and I just don’t know what to do so I talked to Elizabeth about it and she said I should buck up and tell you, so here I am, okay?” You could hear a little panic in his voice, but he still looked calm. “And I don’t know why you do it and that’s what gets me.”

           “Chris, you should know by now,” you said. That was all, and for a minute he was confused. “What I mean is that you should know that I like you too by now. Drunk me is just much more courageous, courageous enough to take a seat on you and hope that you stay when you bring me home. And I only went to Tom because you said it was annoying and, yeah, I was trying to make you a little jealous.”

           “It worked.”

           “Yeah, I can tell.” The both of you sounded like you were mad at each other, which was odd, because you weren’t really mad at him at all. You just wanted the truth about everything.

           “I’m sorry I was being an asshole, but I just can’t take it anymore. I like you, okay? I like you and I get jealous when you’re with other guys even though I have absolutely no right to even be saying this to you right now.”

           “Why not?” Now you were just confused. Chris looked confused, too. “Why do you think you don’t have a right to be saying this to me?”

           “Because you’re young and gorgeous and you could have anyone you wanted, so why would you pick me? Why would you even think of picking me as anything but a friend? I have gray hair, for God’s sake.”

           “So you don’t do all of that stuff to just be nice to me?” He was walking back and forth, biting his nail. “You do all of it because you like me?”

           “Yeah, and you just sit on my lap all the time because you’re…”

           “I do it because I like you. And I let you take me home because I trust you and I want to be around you and I always kind of hope you’ll stay, and not on the couch. And gray looks good on you, so don’t sweat it.” You saw a flicker of hope in Chris’s eyes and stood up, arms still crossed. You were so much shorter than him, even in your heels, and you were sure you didn’t look very intimidating.

           “Then will you sit on my lap next time?” He asked hopefully. You moved your arms to grab his hands and look up at him. You didn’t have to say anything because he knew.

           “Only if you’ll stay over.” He smiled and looked down.

           “Deal.” The two of you walked into the bedroom and you went to find a shirt that would fit him. This time, when you caught his eyes lingering, you just smirked. You were definitely only sitting on his lap from now on.

A/N: I loved this request! I changed it slightly to make it a little longer but I hope you like it! I lied and I’m putting this up now because I hate waiting. 

Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me a message!): @an-adventureland, @ssebstann, @firstangeldragonranch, @winterreader-nowwriter

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine

[menofchaos]

Rio

Note/Warning: Someone commented on one of my posts and said they were curious how Rio and Sasha met, so this is what I came up with. Hope you guys like it! Slightly sexy!

Rio pulled his hood off his head, heading into the bar. The bartender, John, nodded at him.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” Rio told him, “On my tab.”

John started pouring the drink and Rio looked around at the quiet room, “Here you go.”

“Thanks, man,” he murmured, “Is David here?”

David, the bar owner, and Rio had a business arrangement and Rio came in to check on how things were going.

John motioned to the back room, “He’s having a meeting with the newest bartender, Sasha. Evaluation shit. He should be almost done.”

“How’s she doing?” Rio asked, curious.

“It’s not her first bartending gig so once she figured out where everything is, she’s doing great. Fits in with all of us,” John explained, “Makes great tips, does the shitty jobs nobody else wants,” he laughed.

Rio smiled, “The best kind of employee.”

The back door opened and David walked out, still talking. Rio looked over and felt his heart skip a beat as the woman laughed. She was a little shorter than him, her hair hanging over her shoulders except for two space buns on top of her head. She was dressed casually, no different than the other bartenders but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Rio,” David noticed him with a grin, “Sorry I’m late. Sasha and I lost track of time. Sasha, this is one of my associates, Rio. Rio, this is Sasha.”

Her smile was genuine and she held a hand out to him, he noticed tattoos covering most of her arm, “Nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand, her skin warm, “You too,” he licked his lips.

Sasha blushed as David cleared his throat, “You ready, man?”

Rio nodded and got off his stool, following David to the back room. He looked back to see Sasha watching him.

After their meeting, Rio left without being able to talk to Sasha again. He was kept busy over the next few weeks by the housewives. He finally had a free afternoon and stopped by. Sasha was the only bartender there.

“Hey, what can I get you?” she asked.

“Whiskey, neat,” he told her as he sat down.

“Starting a tab?” she started pouring a drink, her cheeks reddening.

He laughed softly, “I have an open tab. I’m Rio.”

Her eyes widened, “Right, sorry. I forgot.”

“You forgot me or my tab?” Rio smiled.

“Your tab,” Sasha set the glass down, “I’d never forget that face.”

Rio smirked, “No?”

She shook her head with a coy smile.

~

Rio sat at the bar of a club, ordering drinks for Mick and him. He took three shots in a row.

“You good?” Mick asked.

“I’m fine,” he sighed. He noticed a few women checking him out. He gave them a smile, letting his eyes travel over them slowly. They would giggle but never approach him. He couldn’t get the last interaction with Sasha out of his head. 

Ever since he met her, he frequented the bar more and more. She would stay toward his end of the bar as she worked and they would talk. The other day, another bartender was working with her. Sasha set down Rio’s glass and he picked it up almost immediately, their fingers brushing. He locked eyes with her as she hesitated to pull her hand away.

Brandon, the other bartender, laughed, “The sexual tension is so thick in here, damn.”

Sasha just looked at Rio, her eyes drawn to his. Brandon excused himself and she stepped closer.

“He’s not wrong,” she leaned over, her cleavage presented to him.

Rio’s lips parted and he looked back up at her eyes, “No, he’s not,” he licked his lips slowly as his phone rang. He picked it up without looking.

“Rio, it’s an emergency,” Beth exclaimed.

“What is it?” he asked, only half listening as Sasha bent over to get a few things out of the fridge, “So deal with it.”

“I can’t,” she insisted, “You need to get here.”

He hung up without answering as Sasha stood upright, “I gotta go.”

“That’s too bad,” Sasha murmured, “I was about to go on break. Thought we could spend some time together.”

He nodded slowly, “I wish I could stay,” he told her, his eyes on hers, “Trust me.”

Sasha laughed, “Next time.”

Rio felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Sasha behind him, smiling.

“Hey mama,” he looked over her. She was wearing a black and blue dress, heels on her feet that still had her shorter than him. Her long hair was draped over her shoulder.

“Hi,” she bit her lip, “That emergency work itself out?”

“It’s all settled,” he told her, turning fully to face her.

“Good,” Sasha squeezed his knee, “Because it’s next time.”

Before he could respond, Sasha was headed to the bathrooms. She looked over her shoulder and winked, then walked into the small room. 

“I’ll be back,” Rio told Mick before getting up and following her. He opened the door, locking it shut. Sasha was leaning against the sink, “You’re wearing that dress like you’re doing it a favor.”

Her bright smile made his stomach flip, “You don’t need to give me a line.”

“I’m serious,” Rio took a few steps closer to her, resting his hands on either side of her body, “I couldn’t dream up a more gorgeous woman.”

Sasha’s eyelashes fluttered at the feel of his body against hers. She looked up as he leaned in, their lips connecting. The kiss was gentle until she pulled his hips closer and his tongue pushed into her mouth. Then they were a flurry of fast movements and harsh breaths. Sasha ended up sitting on the sink, her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist as Rio thrusted into her harshly.

“Fuck,” she gasped when he grabbed her thighs and lifted them higher.

Rio focused on making her feel as good as he could. He zeroed in on the spots that made her tighten her grip on him. He held her hips tight, his hand in her hair.

“Does that feel good, mama?” his lips brushed her ear and he smiled when she shivered.

“So good,” she whimpered, “Fuck.”

He kept going until she had three orgasms, each one making her clench tighter than the last. After the last one, he pulled out and watched as she immediately got on her knees to finish him off. He was still panting when she stood up.

“Such a good girl,” Rio kissed her lips quickly before helping her clean up. He left first, smirking from the bar when he saw her limp a few steps out of the bathroom.

#rio imagine #rio x sasha #good girls imagine

[wherevermyway]

we’re professional. (2/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter two: concealed series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. chapter warnings: heavy angst, implied masturbation, alcohol word count: 10,141 also on AO3

originally posted: 21 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Two nights: one containing a lie, the other containing a truth. Both end up changing Changbin's life, but is it for the better?

There were two nights that changed Seo Changbin’s life forever, both involving his best friend, Seungmin. The first night that changed his life was the night of his sophomore showcase.

It was the night where Seungmin lied.

“‘arranged: in black’ is a stupid name for this set, isn’t it?” Changbin stood in front of the bright white wall, his posture slightly askew. He stared at four small square canvases with a silhouette painted in varying shades of black and white oils, trying to convey the varying degrees of grey he felt his life was consumed in. The canvases tilted to the left, he tilted to the right.

Something didn’t fit: was it the art, or the artist?

A young, neon pink-haired man behind him loudly snapped his gum right in Changbin’s ear and hummed loudly as he stared at the paintings. “Sounds pretentious.”

“Oh,” Changbin raised his eyebrows and gave the man a cocky look. “Yeah, and a self portrait painted in watered down red wine with the name ‘Dead Energy’ isn’t pretentious? Come on, Seungmin.”

Seungmin shrugged, turning back around to adjust the aforementioned painting on the wall behind him. “You asked for my opinion, dude.”

Changbin took a step towards his paintings, making the most minute adjustments to how they were situated against the wall. “No, I asked you if it was a stupid name. Not for you to give me your terrible opinion.”

“Okay,” Seungmin drawled out, as if he were about to prove a point, “then, fine, it’s a horrible name and I think you should change it.” To anyone that didn’t know the dynamic between Seungmin and Changbin, the banter may have come off harsh, but this was what worked best for them.

“Well,” Changbin rolled his eyes at his friend as he laughed. “I think your opinion sucks and I’m in too deep to go and fix my placards.”

In all honesty, Changbin had been looking for an excuse to change the name of his set. Seungmin’s reassurance, while masqueraded as an insult, helped give him the small amount of encouragement he needed to believe in the project, name and all.

Later that night, Changbin was aimlessly chatting with Seungmin when two well-dressed men walked past them. One was a blond that dressed in a simple black suit set, similar to the art professors: stylistically flat, but professional. Deliberately plain, so as not to distract from the art on display.

The other, however, caught Changbin’s eye. His aura was distracting Changbin from his conversation. The man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, had dressed like he was a piece on display: everything placed on him was deliberate and purposeful. He was wearing a graphite turtleneck, a single earring that had a shiny silver safety pin and chain dangling from his earlobe, and a rose gold necklace adorned with a skirt-shaped onyx that nestled into the middle of his clavicle. He even wore fake, half-rimmed black glasses. Everything about him screamed out-of-place, yet oddly intriguing and untouchable.

“Wait a sec, Chan,” the intricately decorated man paused, taking a step back as he found himself unable to tear his eyes off of Changbin’s paintings. The strange man approached the canvases, and it made Changbin start to sweat. The way that the brunette pored over his work was different than the way his classmates or professors looked at it.

This strange man was analyzing his work, not just staring beyond it.

“Oh no,” Seungmin muttered, his expression dropping as he watched the two strange men hover in Changbin’s area.

“What?” Changbin nervously rubbed his thumbs into his palms and tried to stay composed. “Why did you say ‘oh no’? Seungmin, dude, what?”

The pink haired man stood in awe and shook his head. “You’re fucked, man,” he turned away, trying to get Changbin to stop staring. “Dude, I think that’s The Heartless.”

The black-haired man squinted in confusion. “‘The Heartless’? What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with me?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. He leaned in, trying to make it less obvious that they were staring. “He’s brutal, that’s all I know. He’s a famous artist that’s got a lot of power in every gallery in Vancouver, owns all of the galleries in Victoria, helps manage several in Montréal and Toronto…” His voice tapered off as the both watched the two strange men observe Changbin’s paintings. “He’s really harsh on artists, even those that have work in his galleries. You’re fucked.”

“Shut up,” Changbin grumbled under his breath, digging his elbow into Seungmin’s rib cage. If it were anyone less intriguing, Changbin would never have let his body move on its own, drawn to the stranger like a magnet. Once he had gotten back into his own area, he lost all confidence he had somehow mustered up, the fancy brunette turning around at the sound of footsteps.

“Can I help you?” The brunette’s voice was cold, arrogant. Fitting, based on his appearance.

Changbin froze, trying to stutter out some sort of introduction. He could practically feel Seungmin cringing from a few metres away.

“Oh,” the mysterious man pointed over his shoulder, “you created these, didn’t you?”

It felt like all of the air in the gallery had been sucked through a vacuum. Everything was dreadfully silent. Changbin could only meekly nod twice, swallowing hard as he tried not to show panic on his face.

“Figures. The aura just kind of… fits.” The man turned back around, bringing his index finger between his teeth as he pondered.

The blond man next to the stranger smirked, eyeing the paintings, then the brunette. “You’re not really going to—“

A hand came in between the brunette and the blond, as the well-dressed man haphazardly drew his fingers out towards his compatriot. “Hush.” His gaze on the paintings remained unbroken as his eyes fluttered around each of the four small canvases. “Tell me,” he cleared his throat, looking at the placard stuck up next to the bottom right canvas, “Changbin, why did you pick the name ‘arranged: in black’ for this set?”

Changbin had a habit of being a bit too brash when he was nervous, almost as if it were a coping strategy for stressful situations. “Do you want the fake answer or the real one?”

The blond sucked some air in through his teeth, deliberately looking away from the situation, biting back a smirk.

The brunette with the fake glasses raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned his head to make eye contact with the student, his gaze intimidating and strong, like a criminal investigator. “So, you have two reasons. Interesting.” He licked his bottom lip, then folded his arms across his chest. “I want the boring answer first, then the fun answer. If I can guess the true answer, then I’ll surprise you.”

Despite the fact that Changbin was terrified, he managed to shake his nerves out as he folded his arms, mirroring the strange man in front of him. “The boring answer is that I liked the way it looked on the placards.” The stranger cocked his head to the side, clearly unimpressed with that response.

“The interesting answer is,” Changbin looked past the brunette as he casually walked over to his canvases, adjusting them to be neat and orderly again. “It’s how I arrange myself to best fit the way I blend in during any situation at hand.” He turns his torso a bit towards the brunette, but does not move closer, afraid that the stranger would smell his vulnerability and tear into him like a vulture. “How much white do I need to make my black match the graphite shade of your turtleneck, how much black I need to blend together with white to make the sterling silver shade of your safety pin earring. How much I need to arrange myself to conform. Hence, 'arranged: in black'.”

There is a very long, drawn out pause. The stranger chews on his index finger as he studies Changbin’s face, pondering something, but hiding his true expression. Seungmin takes a step forward, but quickly rescinds it as Changbin looks up at him and squints.

“Cat eyes.” The brunette says with a devious grin.

Changbin makes contact with the stranger again, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Cat eyes?” He repeats, slowly and carefully.

The stranger takes a step forward and offers his hand out. “My name is Minho, from the Lee Family. I run a few galleries across Canada, but Vancouver and its eclectic artists refuse to relinquish me from its talons.” His face falls for a moment, then he offers a soft, albeit somewhat fake smile. “I want to buy these paintings from you. The character, the brutal honesty behind them is something I don’t see in many people, much less undergraduate artists.”

“Holy shit.” Changbin can hear Seungmin’s quiet interjection from afar. He looks down to Minho’s thin, bony hand, then accepts it without thinking.

Minho’s hand is cold. “Changbin. Seo Changbin, as I’m sure you’ve gathered.” He firmly shakes Minho’s icy hand, then shakes his head. “You seriously want to buy my paintings?”

A wide smile spreads on Minho’s face. “Absolutely.” He pulls out a thin wallet from his back pocket, rifling his fingers around it as he nods at the blond. “Chan, you’ve got a pen, right?”

“Yeah,” the other man reaches inside of his jacket, pulling out a weighty-looking pen. He presents it to the brunette, who accepts it with haste. Minho takes a step towards the wall, pulling a card from his hand, then proceeds to write something on the back of it.

As he turns around, he holds his hand out towards Changbin, card tucked neatly between his index and middle fingers. The younger man takes it, shoving it into his back pocket a bit haphazardly without looking it over. As Changbin fumbles with the card and his pocket, Minho takes a few steps closer, lightly grabbing on to Changbin’s upper arm as he leans into his ear. “Text me in a half hour. We can talk more later.”

As quickly as Changbin registers the words Minho says, the mysterious brunette and blond duo disappear, off beyond a white partition holding up a classmate’s draped canvas. “What the fuck was that?” Seungmin whispers in shock as he approaches Changbin.

“That was Lee Minho,” the black-haired man breathed, a relieved, yet nervous, grin curling up on his face. “He actually wants my paintings. I don’t know why, but I’ll take it as a win.”

As requested, Changbin sends off a text to the number written on the back of Minho’s business card. The young man bites his lip as he moves to tuck his phone into his back pocket, but it vibrates in his hand. “That was fast,” he sighs as he unlocks his phone.

20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’ll be there soon. Alone. 20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’d prefer it if you were alone, too.

Changbin’s heart skipped at the possible intention of Minho’s text message. Should he have shooed Seungmin away, against the younger man’s protests? Probably not, but he figured that it was a public area, and Minho likely wouldn’t do something shady.

Probably.

He aimlessly nibbled at his bottom lip as he stared at some of the mistakes on his paintings, likely imperfections that his mind was hallucinating to keep him busy. Why exactly was such a well-renowned artist interested in such simple paintings, anyways?

“They’re quite lovely,” Minho’s voice crept up, startling Changbin. The brunette didn’t react to Changbin’s visceral response, instead engrossing himself further in the brushstrokes that blended black and white into shades of muted grey.

“You startled me,” Changbin mumbled, regaining his composure. He stared at the same spot that he assumed Minho was looking at, noticing that there was an extra stroke of thin black in a sea of deep grey, somewhere it shouldn’t have been. His brow furrowed in irritation as Minho turned to meet his gaze.

The older man bit back a smile. “You’re looking for every imperfection, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” Minho turns away from Changbin, folding his arms as he lets his eyes slowly scan every individual canvas. “I just know from personal experience.” He gingerly reaches his lean fingers out to the corner of one of the canvases, causing Changbin to tense in anticipation. “Pouring your soul into something for hours, days — hell, even weeks, for some projects — only to find everything possibly imperfect with it as soon as it’s presented to the public.” Minho delicately nudges the corner up a bit, evening out the canvas so all four looked even.

Changbin unclenches his fists, feeling sweat bead at his brow as he looks at Minho. The older man turns his head slightly, looking down at the black-haired man, scanning his appearance.

“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t ramen or something frozen? You’re as grey as your silhouettes.”

The question was jarring. Did Changbin really look that unwell? “I mean,” he awkwardly moved to scratch the back of his head. “I usually have leftovers from the kitchen at work every night, so, last night, probably?”

Minho frowned in response. “Here I thought the ‘starving artist’ trope was just an aesthetic you were going for, match the grungy brushstrokes of your painting.” He dug into his pocket and spun on his heel. “Come on, we can discuss this somewhere a little bit more appropriate.”

Changbin knew all of the things he risked following a stranger — a well-known stranger that likely had many connections — away from the UBC campus, away from the same area of town he had been so familiar with for two years. He threw caution to the wind as he stepped into Minho’s black Tesla.

There was an air of relief that washed over Changbin as he watched Minho input directions towards downtown Vancouver. However, that relief turned into nervousness as he really took in the interior of the car. Everything about it screamed everything that Minho was, and Changbin was not: confident, financially stable, mature.

“What about your friend?” Changbin questioned, just to ease a bit of the awkward silence as they left UBC.

The brunette rolled his neck a bit, adjusting his seatbelt. “Chan? He drove here himself. Nearly subzero temperatures and he still wants to ride his stupid fucking motorcycle.” Minho laughed once, then the awkward silence came back with a vengeance.

Something wasn’t adding up, and it caused an uneasy ball of tension to form in Changbin’s stomach. “Why didn’t you tear into my paintings?” The younger man nervously blurted out as they drove down Fourth Avenue, not thinking before he spoke yet again.

Minho smirked as he looked over his shoulder, merging into a different lane. “So,” he chuckled as he turned back around, “I take it you’ve heard the rumours, then?”

“‘Minho, the Heartless”, yeah.” Changbin intertwined his fingers together, staring down at the way he was rubbing his thumb against his hand. “My friend Seungmin told me a bit about you before I approached you. That you’re brutal towards new artists, and even those that have their works on display in your galleries.”

“Figures,” the brunette tutted, rapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not…” he pauses, squinting a bit as he takes in a breath, “that’s not the real reason I’m labelled as ‘the heartless’, but it plays a key factor into it all.”

Changbin looks up, taking in the side profile of the man, watching the way passing streetlights would highlight his face in a warm shade of orange, contrasting with the harsh blue lights of the car’s displays.

“Rumour has it,” Minho brought his arm up to the door, then rested his head against his fist, “that I’m too cold to everyone. I’m rude to my clients, to my patrons, hell, that I had to have been brutal to my exes, because they never stuck around.” He tries to stifle s scoff into his fist. “Look, Changbin, I’m going to be honest.”

As they neared Granville Island, the warm yellow street lights turned into cold, blueish white LEDs that matched the lights in the car. The ball of tension in Changbin’s stomach expanded, constricting his lungs and causing his chest to tighten.

Minho tilted his head to the side, just enough to peer at Changbin over his false lenses, then back to the road. “I’m not interested in dating. I don’t do…” he pauses, spinning his fingers into an awkward circle to help him find the right word, “relationships in general: professional, personal, I try to avoid it all. Honestly, I just don’t like people.”

Somehow, Changbin was partially relieved, but that somehow left him with more questions.

“I’ve been burned by too many artists in the past, so don’t take it personally. But,” Minho paused and shrugged his shoulders, “your paintings pulled me in, made me want to get to know you just a little more. Maybe have you as a model for a sketch or two, buy that set of yours, help you out financially a bit. Student and mentor.”

“I couldn’t…” Changbin frantically interrupted, but lost his confidence quickly. Taking on too many shifts at the restaurant was killing him. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than three or four hours a night. There was no way he had it in him to turn down such an opportunity, even if it hurt his pride a bit.

Minho smiled as Changbin went silent. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for anything weird or sexual. I just have this itching feeling like I’m not giving back to the community that propped me up when I was low. You don’t have to give me an answer tonight or even tomorrow. Let’s just celebrate your talent and get you something that will give you more than just salt and simple carbohydrates.”

They spent their first unofficial date getting to know each other. Minho was 29, had lived in Vancouver for his whole life. He did his first two years of his Bachelor’s of Fine Arts at the University of Toronto, then came back to Vancouver when the vibes of Toronto stopped meshing with him. “It’s a hellhole, really,” Minho kept the prongs of his fork between his teeth as he reminisced. “Clearly, so is Vancouver, but at least Vancouver feels like home.”

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, still a bit tense. He felt like he didn’t fit in at this high-end restaurant. The large plates with small amounts of food distracted him too much, like it was a mockery of how the wealthy always had to over-embellish even the smallest things in their possession.

“You’ve lived here your whole life, right, Changbin?” Minho set his fork down on the tablecloth, then clasped his hands together and rested his chin on the bridge his fingers made. The overhead spotlight illuminated his brown hair, highlighting the undertones of orange and black in certain spots. If Changbin was ever going to be interested in dating again, he would have considered Minho as a potential suitor.

Dating, however, was something Changbin wasn’t sure he’d ever be interested in again. Everyone thought that he and Felix would stay together forever, since that’s what high school sweethearts should do, and Changbin agreed for the longest time. He agreed with the sentiment, until he found one of their classmates in the bed he shared with Felix.

Love was dead, and Changbin believed it should stay that way.

“Vancouver?” He perked up, taking a sip of water from his glass, awkwardly looking away from Minho’s gaze. “Yeah, mostly. Lived in Nanaimo for a couple years until my parents split and my dad moved back here. I missed it too much to stay away.” It was mostly the truth, but that wasn’t relevant. Why bother spilling any more information on someone he barely knew?

“Interesting.” The way that Minho squinted at him, staring him up and down, stayed in Changbin’s mind for too long. There was a methodical, yet mindless way that Minho grazed his teeth against his bottom lip when he listened to Changbin ramble something off. If it really enraptured his attention, he would bring his index finger between his teeth and nod his head a couple of times.

Minho was attractive, not because of his physical features, but because of the way that he drank in the way that Changbin interacted with him. It was one-sided and a bit foolish, but that was the fun of it. He could toy with the idea of it in his head, flirt with the idea of what ifs, with none of the repercussions or demands of an actual relationship.

At the end of the night, when Minho dropped Changbin off at his dorm nearly two hours later, the younger man agreed to see him again the next weekend, where they’d discuss the more technical agreements of their arrangement.

Tonight, however, Changbin would let ideas run through his head, ideas of how Minho’s voice would sound in his ear, how his breath would brush up on his neck, and how his fingers would dance over his body. The black-haired man sighed as he nestled himself in between his sheets, allowing his mind to creatively extrapolate on some details as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband.

Nothing else mattered tonight.

The second night that changed Changbin’s life was the Sunday night after the fake engagement story went live.

It was the night where Seungmin told the truth.

“Look, dude,” Seungmin frowned as he sat on the opposite side of Changbin’s couch. “I wanted to say something a while ago, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I just… I knew. It was obvious. Changbin,” he paused, trying to duck into the bluenette’s line of vision, “you’re in love with Minho. It’s kinda gross, not gonna lie. I haven’t seen you this infatuated over anyone in years. Genuinely thought you were gonna die alone with me or something.”

Changbin brought his knees up to his chest, staring aimlessly at his fingernails, like he could get lost in the sunsets hidden away in his cuticles, anything to avoid actually addressing how he was starting to feel over Minho. He could ignore it, hope that everything would go away, hope that Seungmin was just wrong and overanalyzing.

“Come on, Binnie, it was going to happen eventually,” Seungmin’s voice is quiet, like he was afraid of how Changbin would react. He leaned in, resting a hand on the bluenette’s arm. “Changbin.” The older man sucked his cheek in between his teeth as he pensively looked up at his friend. “This is gonna go one of two ways, probably. You’re either going to keep going through with all of this, say nothing, then end up heartbroken years down the line when he wants nothing to do with you out of the blue. Or…”

“Or?” Changbin tipped his head down, wincing as he looked at the younger man.

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “You can risk it. Tell Minho you care about him, more than you agreed upon initially. See what his reaction is, probably suppress some of the inevitable heartbreak.”

The bluenette stared down at his hands, gaze getting caught in the pinkish groove between two of the diamonds in his new ring. How much distance was there between the gap of ‘friendship’ and ‘lovers’, between ‘casual’ and ‘professional’? “You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” He doesn’t look away as he timidly questions Seungmin. The question felt rhetorical as the words left his lips.

Seungmin runs a hand through his auburn hair, then grabs Changbin’s wrist as he softly smiles. “I want you to be happy.”

“So, you definitely think it’s a bad idea,” Changbin laughs as he sinks into the couch.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seungmin laughed, playfully slapping Changbin’s arm. “I think it’d be a bad idea if you didn’t tell him. I don’t know him very well, but Minho does seem to genuinely care about you, from the little I’ve seen, especially over the last year.”

Changbin’s lips flutter as he sighs in frustration. “That’s the worst part. I know he cares, but I don’t have any hard evidence of it. It’s all a gut feeling, and the uncertainty of that just makes me queasy.”

“The ring, though,” the younger man grabs the hand Changbin won’t stop staring at. “You really think that someone that didn’t care about you would have put in that much effort and money for something like this? For it to all be a fluke?”

Seungmin had a point. He always did: he knew people well, especially Changbin and people that interacted with him. He was the first to suggest that his ex wasn’t as innocent as he came off as, and he was the first to offer a shoulder to cry on when Changbin eventually got burned.

“Look, you should tell him. Maybe tell him after the engagement party, since that’s already all planned out and, hey, free publicity if it fails, I guess.” Seungmin suggested, then pulled Changbin into an awkward, but much needed, hug. “If he rejects you, I’ll help you get a crab pot and we can throw him overboard somewhere far past Vancouver Island.”

They both laughed hard enough to cause tears to roll down their faces.

“This is why you’re my best friend, Seung. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders and scoffed. “You’d be bored, but I would be too.”

Neither Changbin nor Minho sent inane texts to the other throughout the day like they used to. There were a few messages here and there, but an obvious rift had developed between the two of them since the last time they spoke.

It was stupid, really. Changbin shouldn’t have gotten upset over how much Minho had dropped on a real engagement ring for a fake relationship.

“That’s almost as much as my tuition!” The bluenette shrieked when he heard how much the ring was worth. “Five and a half thousand dollars? Minho, what the fuck?”

This was the first time that Minho was upset in front of Changbin, the first time where it felt realistic, like there was a passionate drive behind his anger. “Why are you so obsessed with the cost of this? Aren’t you in this for the money, anyways?”

Changbin shook his head a couple of times, physically taken aback by Minho’s wording. The older man stumbled on his words as he tried to form an apology, but the bluenette pulled away, storming off of the bed. He slipped his button-up shirt on from the day prior and continued shaking his head.

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it, right?” Changbin scoffed, gathering his things as he made his way to the door. “You didn’t mean to indirectly accuse me of just being a whore, right?”

To some extent, though, it was true. He knew it as the realization sank to the bottom of his heart. There was nothing physical going on between the two of them, just a professional mentorship and financial transactions. There were no budding feelings, especially not when Changbin would wake up to Minho’s soft hands on his shoulders. There were no burning feelings, definitely not when Minho would pull Changbin into a soft, tight embrace as he bid him farewell, lingering a moment too long every time they parted.

Strictly professional, Changbin. He had to keep repeating it in his head.

If he repeated it enough, that meant it was true, right?

He consistently reminded himself over the two weeks that had passed, and it felt like it was working, even with the engagement party coming up on Saturday.

“Strictly professional,” the young man sighed under his breath as he stared at his phone, staring down at the reminder that popped up. Tomorrow was the day where they were going to formally announce their engagement at a party downtown in a high-end restaurant that one of Minho’s friends owned.

11:30 | Minho: I’m sending over one of my drivers tonight for your final fitting. He should be there not long after you’re out of class, around 16:20.

Concise. Very professional, just like Changbin would expect from Minho.

11:32 | sent: I assume you’re going to be busy with another arrangement so I’m not going to see you tonight either, am I?

It was a bit bitchy, Changbin had to admit, but at least it felt somewhat cathartic to send off. A few bubbles popped up on screen as Minho typed a response, but they suddenly cut out and he didn’t respond. The bluenette shrugged, sighing heavily as he locked his phone and shoved it in the droopy front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Strictly professional.

He didn’t get another text message until he was halfway through one of his open studio blocks. Black paint had dripped down from the brush in his hand, splattering down on the floor and onto his Converse as he stared at his phone, somehow narrowly avoiding dropping it to the floor as his jaw dropped.

15:02 | Minho: I just rearranged my schedule to make sure I’d go along with you. Might as well make sure that all of the money I’ll drop on a custom fitting for you highlights all of your features in the ways that they deserve. 15:03 | Minho: I want everyone’s eyes on you. It’s as much your night as mine, and you should feel as handsome as you look. 15:04 | Minho: That’s what they say in the movies, right?

Changbin’s eyelids felt heavy and sticky as he blinked rapidly, fully processing Minho’s texts, running them over in his mind, practically hearing his voice whisper in his ear. All of the anger he had harboured over Minho in the past few days dissipated as he set his paintbrush on the side table next to his wooden frame and canvas. He felt like all of the colour faded from his face as he stared at his phone.

The last text was to ease the tension, a bit of an extinguisher to the fire Minho caused in Changbin’s stomach. He had to know what he was saying and what kind of effect it would have on the younger man, right?

15:08 | sent: All of my features? 15:08 | sent: In what ways do they deserve to be highlighted? You’re the master artist, here after all, so I’d love to hear your opinion.

There was a knot in Changbin’s stomach as he sent off the texts. His pulse was elevated, breaths a bit shallower than normal, and he had to lean up against the metal stool that sat behind him. He stared ahead to the painting he was working on, but he wasn’t looking at it as he brought his thumbnail up to his teeth. Yes, he needed to apologize for how he acted the last time they spoke in person, but that seemed so minute right now.

His phone shook in his hand, vibrating twice. With haste, Changbin brought his phone back up, breaking his line of vision to his canvas. His eyes went wide and he slowly sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he read over the words several times.

15:11 | Minho: Love, you know I’m more of a tactile feedback person and not a wordsmith, right? 15:12 | Minho: All the time you’ve been spending working out — it shows. I notice it when you’re laying next to me, snoring away into your pillow. It’s very… distracting. 15:14 | Minho: It’s only fair that I, the very well-respected and influential artist, make sure that all of your hard work is accented well. Hidden, but merely enough shown off to get people to wonder: who is Seo Changbin? How did Lee Minho manage to get such a talented, attractive person to carry on his arm? To call him his own forever?

This was breaking the boundaries of their relationship dynamic they came up with initially, but Changbin didn’t care. His toe was in the water, and the promise of its warm embrace was too much to turn away, even if it meant he was potentially selling his soul to the devil, ruining his life for a moment of warmth he hadn’t experienced in years.

15:16 | sent: Oh, so it’s just about arm candy, huh? 15:16 | sent: I’m more interested in why you consider me sleeping as distracting, though. Sounding like a bit of a serial killer. 15:17 | sent: Especially when you say that I’ll be yours forever.

Changbin didn’t bother locking his phone, watching the little text bubbles pop up and disappear several times over, groaning a bit each time that they weren’t followed by an actual message. Less than an hour to go until he was done with this block, and he would see Minho. He would be in his car, able to get close and push the limits of their agreement. A hand on the thigh, which was normal, could slowly creep up and in towards the sensitive skin of Minho’s upper thigh.

He didn’t mean to get distracted, but he couldn’t help letting his mind wander. Minho seemed like the type that would feel his partner up in the back of his car, leave bite marks and imprints from their shoulder, all the way up to the back of their ear. Changbin could practically feel the hairs on the side of his neck stand up in response to what Minho’s warm breath would feel like.

A buzz.

Changbin looked side to side in embarrassment, realizing he was practically having a wet dream out in the middle of his studio. Nervously, he cleared his throat and looked down to his phone as he felt his face warm.

15:20 | Minho: You’re always more than eye candy, I hope you know that. 15:21 | Minho: I can assure you, I am not a serial killer. Sure, that’s what all serial killers say, but when would I have the time for that? Seems like too much labour.

A disgruntled sigh came up from Changbin’s lungs. Naturally, he was looking too far into Minho’s texts, inserting inappropriate context between the words. Perhaps nearly three years without physical attention from another person was having an effect on his body. He thought about responding, but he didn’t have it in him to craft a witty, yet appropriate, response.

As Changbin stood up and awkwardly shuffled his legs around a bit to adjust the distracting erection building between his legs, he checked his phone one last time before reaching out for his paintbrush, but found himself nearly doubled over as he leaned over the side table with a gasp.

15:26 | Minho: Judging by your lack of response, I hope this means you’re being smart and focusing on your studio time, so you’ll ignore this message. 15:27 | Minho: You’re treading water that’s dangerous. I don’t know if you want to dive in and see how deep the water is. Could be cold.

Changbin responded without thinking.

15:28 | sent: I know how to swim. I’m not scared.

His hands were shaking with anticipation as he waited for Minho’s response. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on painting, so he gradually started rinsing off his brushes and sorting through his supplies. Every ten seconds or so, Changbin would stare at his phone, waiting for it to light up with another message.

Ten minutes had passed, and he was worried he had fucked up. He had stopped looking at his phone and was, again, staring at his painting. He was just going to leave it up over the weekend, since he would probably just come back to it in the middle of the night on Sunday night, when he normally had a random bout of inspiration hit him.

Unless, of course, the plan of confessing to Minho on Saturday would cause his regular Sunday plans to be pushed back. That would be a worthy sacrifice for his art.

Changbin was about to turn away from his painting when he felt a hand on the small of his back, and a familiar voice creep up into his ear. “I see black is a common theme in your paintings again.”

Minho.

The crafty bastard really showed up early and had the nerve to sneak up on Changbin. Instead of reacting in fright, the younger man leaned into the touch, tilting his head slightly back. “If I recall correctly, you like seeing black in paintings. Greyscale pieces have a history of winning you over.”

“Ah,” Minho sighs, letting his hand slowly move closer and closer to Changbin’s side. “So it’s for me?”

“Engagement present, I think,” Changbin shrugged. “That’s what most couples do, right?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispered, then slowly pulled away from Changbin, “but I don’t think we’re like most couples, hmm?”

Changbin let his eyes flutter shut in frustration. Every two steps forward felt like it was accompanied by one to three steps backward. If he were alone, he would scream into a pillow, but he would just shove it down for now. He turned toward Minho with a fake smile on his face. “So,” he tried to bite back his frustrations, knowing he was coming off as irritated. “Any special reason you showed up early?”

His words sounded innocent enough, but the look on his face fell more along the lines of, ‘perhaps my texts sparked some curiosity?’

Minho’s eyes darted to the side, his lower eyelids squinting up for a split second. “I really didn’t want to be late.” That’s a lie. “Traffic about now can be unpredictable.” Another lie. Inbound downtown traffic was busy on Fridays, but not until after 16:30.

“But you didn’t stay in the car.” Admit you wanted to see me.

“I’ve come up to say hi before.” Minho leaned onto Changbin’s side table, arrogantly running a free hand through his hair. He was posturing, testing Changbin on something, but what?

Changbin took a cautious step forward, seemingly towards his set of paintbrushes on the table, but ready to pivot to Minho at the first sign he was given. He desperately wanted to be bold with his words, but he couldn’t quite get them to come out right. “You left a meeting early to come see me on a day you hadn’t planned to.” He paused, rolling his eyes up to stare down Minho. “It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen me. I think you left and came here because you miss me.”

This would be the part of the movie where they would run off to the grungy public washroom and haphazardly make out with each other, crying over how ignorant and stupid they had been with each other’s feelings. Perhaps Changbin was projecting a bit of his desires into the idea of their movie life, but, regardless, nothing was happening.

“That’s not inaccurate,” Minho shoves away from the counter, his face warming with a reddish tint as he steps away, towards the canvas. He feigns interest as he stares in between the strokes of paint that were slowly coming together to form an image. “I suppose I do miss you. I don’t like waking up without you on a Sunday morning.”

There’s an easy solution to that problem.

“I miss your cups of blonde roast Starbucks on Sunday mornings,” Changbin counters, still too afraid of the words he really wants to say. “You’ve gotten me hooked onto it. I can’t seem to make it the same way you do, and it just doesn’t taste right.”

Minho clears his throat and checks his wristwatch. He sighs, then turns to look at Changbin with a smile. “Are you almost done packing up?” The smile is fake, like he’s hiding something. Again, Minho is hard to read. “I’d like to leave a bit early, beat any traffic into town, yeah?”

They don’t say much as Changbin finishes packing up his supplies. The walk from the studio to the car is without any commentary at all. The driver opens the side door, offering his hand out towards Changbin for his bag of supplies, which he hands off with a bit of a scowl. Minho walks over to the other side of the car, opening the door to his side while the driver is preoccupied helping Changbin.

Within a couple of minutes, they’re going down the usual route down Fourth Avenue again, and Changbin’s scowl grows until he can’t handle the ballooning irritation. He snaps his head over to stare at Minho, shocked to find that the man is already staring at him, albeit a bit distant.

Minho walks his fingers over the empty space between them, then gingerly reaches out to touch Changbin’s arm, softly gripping his forearm. “I’m sorry I’ve been distracted these past two weeks.” His apology feels sincere, albeit stunted. Minho slides his hand down to interlace his fingers in the space between Changbin’s, where everything comes together and feels right. “This whole engagement announcement has been stressful, which I know isn’t an excuse. I should have done better to give you some more attention.”

Changbin leans in a bit closer, perhaps subconsciously being pulled into Minho like a magnet. “It’s alright, Minho, you don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do, love.” Just when Changbin thinks Minho will drop his guard, he turns his head to the side, staring out of the windshield far in front of them. “I just don’t want to fuck this up. Sure, this is a business arrangement, but I value our friendship.”

To anyone else, the word ‘friendship’ probably wouldn’t feel like the way it sounded when a cat scurried across the keys of a piano. It felt discordant, off-key, and wrong. Still, Changbin was tired of trying. He put on a fake smile, then rested his head on Minho’s shoulder, like he always did on their drives into the city. “Our friendship is nice, Minho. There’s nothing else like it.”

“Right,” Minho calmly breathed as he turned his head away, gazing out of the window.

“Well,” the tailor stood upright and smiled up at Changbin, “luckily, I don’t need to make any major alterations. I’ll take in a couple of small things just to accentuate the fit on you, make it look nicer.”

Minho sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to hide a coy smile. “Thank you.” His gratitude for the tailor was there, but it clearly was not Minho's top priority. Changbin watched Minho take in the sight of him, languidly gliding his gaze up from the floor to the top of Changbin’s blue hair.

The tailor excused himself, humming to himself as he left the room, poring over the notes on his notepad. Changbin arrogantly stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking out one of his legs as he bit his lip. “You look like you wanna eat me, serial killer.”

"Maybe I do," Minho teases as he playfully clacks his teeth together. His expression softened as he stood up, slowly making his way around the small podium that the bluenette stood on top of. “You remind me of an intricately designed wedding cake. So sturdy, but embellished just enough to be draped in delicateness.” He stopped in front of Changbin, looking up to him with a soft smile and offering his hand to help him down the steps. “Most importantly, you look handsome. Everyone’s going to be caught up in you, love.” He may not have been a wordsmith, but Minho had to have had an idea of the effects his words had.

The younger man smiled, then purposefully stumbled a bit on the steps so he could collide his way into an embrace. “Oh,” Changbin sighed, “guess I lost my footing.”

“Guess you did,” Minho smirks, helping reorient the younger man upright. “You should be more careful. I’d hate to see you slip and fall where I’m not around to catch you.”

“Well,” Changbin winks at the older man before he turns around, back to the dressing room, “guess I’m lucky you’re my fiancé and you’ll catch me when I fall, huh?”

The party is a lot more nerve wracking than Changbin expected. Eyes were following him around everywhere, and he was constantly cornered by strangers that didn’t actually care about the questions they were asking him. Several people asked him questions that were clearly digs at just getting to know more intimate details about Minho and his personal life.

Eventually, he finds Seungmin over by the bar. He quickly makes his way over, grabbing a half-empty bottle of champagne off of the counter with one hand, then Seungmin’s arm with the other hand. “Need you.”

Seungmin interjects with a yelp, turning around quickly and following Changbin without spilling his drink. They made their way through the kitchen, through the back of the building, out to where the line cooks and other staff would run and hide for their smoke breaks.

“Why are you freaking out, Bin?” Seungmin knew that something was wrong without even asking. He took a sip of his drink, quietly cursing the cold under his breath.

Changbin took a swig of champagne directly from the bottle, wincing at the carbonation and the sting of the alcohol. He coughed twice, then leaned up against the exterior of the building in exasperation. “This is too fucking much,” he sighed, looking up at the way his breath clouded up, then faded off into the night sky. “He knows a lot of people, and they’re all so goddamn nosy.”

Seungmin scoffs, taking another sip of his drink as he walks over to Changbin, leaning up on the building next to him. “Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Kind of a shitty price to pay, if you ask me.”

The older man scoffs, taking another drink from the bottle in his hand. “Yeah, but like, it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t like him.”

“Love him,” Seungmin arrogantly corrected him.

“Shut up,” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Okay, yeah, so I do love him. Maybe I’ll just keep it hidden.”

He didn’t need to turn his head to know that Seungmin was glaring at him.

“You know that's—”

“—a dumb idea, yeah.” They stared up at the sky for a few more minutes, sipping on their drinks of choice until they started shivering from the cold. Seungmin pushed off of the wall, about to say something, but Changbin couldn’t stop his mouth from spouting off his concerns again. “I’m gonna finally tell him tonight I think. When we go home. I get the feeling he’ll like that.”

“Awfully romantic,” Seungmin shivered as he smiled.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, bobbing his head back and forth a couple times. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, though.”

“Changbin,” the false redhead placed his free, cold hand on the shoulder of his friend. “If he rejects you, he’s missing out, and that’s on him, not you. You’re my best friend, so yeah, I’m a little biased, but I know you’re a catch.”

The bluenette smiles, then stands up straight. “Where would I be without you, Seung?”

“I dunno, dead maybe?” They both laugh for a moment, before Seungmin loudly shudders as he shivers. “Come on, it’s fucking cold. Let’s go back inside, yeah? I wanna drink more of this rich people shit on your fiancé’s dime.”

Changbin smiled in appreciation. His best friend was truly a gift he didn’t deserve. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

They had been inside for maybe thirty seconds before Minho found Changbin, making a quick beeline towards him, politely excusing himself away from some riveting conversation about how he met Changbin two years ago for the nth time.

“Changbin, love,” he sighed in desperation as he caught up to the two cold men. “I think we should do the toast soon, because this is beyond exhausting.” Seungmin winked at Changbin before he snaked his way out of the conversation.

The bluenette tried to shove Seungmin’s words of encouragement down as he nodded his head. “That’s a great idea, Minho. Let’s go get this over with, so people stop asking us the same ten questions thirty times in a row.”

“Oh my god,” Minho sighed, colliding his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder. “If I have to answer ‘he’s so unlike your usual friends, how’d you meet?’ one more time, I might lose it and actually turn into a serial killer.”

Changbin rubbed his cheek against Minho’s head, then offered him a quick pat on the back. “We’ll get through it, I promise.”

“I know, I know.”

The toast had started off normal, seemingly fine. There were pleasantries, Minho gave a brief introduction about himself and the projects he had been working on, giving some half-true, half-bullshit explanation about how he and Changbin met and fell in love. Some of the details of how they fell in love, including how they were in love in the first place, caused discomfort inside Changbin.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s hand on Changbin’s back brought the younger man back to focus on the conversation. “Maybe you should introduce yourself?” That wasn’t really the question Minho was asking him. The look that the older man gave him was one of concern, as if he were asking him if he was actually alright.

“Right,” Changbin muttered incoherently, grabbing the microphone from Minho. “As you’ve heard, I’m the Changbin everyone seems to be talking about tonight. Seo Changbin.” He pauses, scanning the room for Seungmin, who is giving him a subtle thumbs up with a wince on his face. “Minho and I met at an art exhibit two years ago, where he told me he valued the honesty and the character behind my paintings.”

A couple of people make some sort of half-assed ‘aww’s and ‘ooh’s.

“I was worried about him, since my friend had just given me a crash-course on how Minho was supposedly some big, scary art critic. He was so scary, in fact, that he was known as The Heartless. A name, to this day, that I disagree with.” Changbin smiles, looking over to Minho, who returns a soft gaze and delicate smile. The younger man reached his hand out, and they interlaced their fingers together, getting close to the other, until they were practically embracing.

“I am very lucky to hopefully spend the rest of my life with a man like Minho. He’s not only very artistically gifted, but he’s kind and I do love him from the bottom of my heart.”

While Changbin meant every word he said, he simply read off the words that Minho asked him to memorize the night prior. It was honest, but its intentions were false, which caused a bit of nausea inside the young man. He passed the microphone back to Minho, letting him wrap up the speech with the same banal, inconsequential words he had probably come up with and memorized beforehand.

The words would sound nice, please the crowd, and get some annoying stragglers off of their backs for the rest of the party. Changbin held his customer service-style smile on his face until he stepped away from the makeshift stage. He made his way towards the kitchen again, trying to rid himself from the people that wanted to insincerely congratulate him. He heard people talking shit about him as he made his way through the crowd, gritting his teeth as certain words like ‘whore’, ‘sellout’, and ‘fake’ seemed magnified and heavier than they were.

Changbin watched a couple of staff members head outside for a break, and he growled in irritation to himself, eventually leaning up against a countertop, pressing his head into his palms. He wasn’t even that upset over one specific thing, it was just a lot of things suddenly compounding, along with the tension of the overall situation.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice was soft, quiet, as it came through the entrance of the kitchen. “Love, are you alright?”

His brain told him just to say that he wasn’t feeling well, tell some bullshit white lie that they could brush over. His heart, however, spoke up for him. “What are we doing, Minho?”

The brunette shook his head, then brought his hand up, almost sarcastically. “Announcing our engagement. I thought that was obvious.”

“Not that,” Changbin sucks in a quick breath of air through his teeth. “Put all this to the side for a second. What are we doing? How much of your speech was true? A lot of it seemed too hyperbolic and shallow, and it’s not sitting well with me.”

Minho squints in discomfort, a look of disbelief on his face as he looks at Changbin with confusion. “I’m sorry, what? Was I supposed to tell them that our entire relationship is false?”

“Entire relationship?” Changbin scoffed, all of the tension from before compiling together, and that was the final straw. “Fuck that. No, fuck that.” He pushed off of the counter with frustration, making his way through the back door and past the few staff members and through their cloud of nicotine.

“Changbin, wait,” Minho ran after the younger man, nearly sliding as his shoes came into contact with the icy concrete. “What’s gotten into you?”

The bluenette sucks in air through his teeth as he turns, staring down the older man. His face was contorted into a bitter scowl, and he was visibly shaken. “I don’t fucking understand you, you know?”

“What?” Minho panted, clouds of vapourized breath coming from his mouth, travelling past him on a bit of wind. “What did I say, Changbin?”

There’s a scoff that comes from Changbin, one that’s laden with frustration and a bit of sadness. “You’ve been saying a lot lately, Minho, that’s part of the problem.” He brings his hands up to his hair, gently tugging on the strands as he sniffles, partially due to the cold, partially due to his emotions. “I can’t fucking read you.”

“I’m not a book, Changbin,” Minho takes another step closer and rolls his eyes, “you can communicate your problems to me and we can discuss them.”

“You’re right. You’re not a book, and I believe I’m right in assuming that I’m more than a business deal to you.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, eyes nervously darting around. “What?” This interjection sounded shocked and breathless, less arrogant and confident than the other interjections came off as.

Changbin knows he shouldn’t ask it, not with how much tension is in the air, and how loaded the question is, but his heart causes him to act irrationally yet again. “Do you love me, Minho?”

There’s a gust of cold air that blows between them, causing Changbin to shiver. Minho tries not to notice, but his voice trembles when he repeats the question. “Do I love you?”

Another useless response.

“God, you’re so fucking dense,” Changbin muttered under his breath, angrily taking a couple of steps closer, centimetres away from the brunette now. “Do you want to know something, Minho?” There’s a pause after Changbin’s rhetorical question; the younger man feels the warmth of Minho feeding into his energy as he takes in a deep breath. “I realized it the morning after the fake proposal. I was upset at how much money you spent on a fake engagement ring, for a fake relationship that was probably going to end within a couple of years, if we’re being optimistic. You put in so much effort for something fake, and I was putting in a lot of emotional investment into someone that I’m supposed to have nothing more than a business deal with.

“I remember talking to Seungmin that night, and he told me straight up. He told me that I was in love with you. Beyond interest, beyond infatuation. Actually in full-fucking-blown love, something I didn’t know I was even capable of doing anymore.” A sarcastic scoff punctuates Changbin’s sentence as he licks his bottom lip, looking away from Minho. “I thought it was stupid, that I could shove it down and ignore it. But the truth is, Minho,” he tilts his head back, looking at Minho with a heavy gaze, like he was teetering on the edge of anger and despair, “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I meant for it all to stay professional, like we wanted it to be, but I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do that anymore, Minho.”

There’s a stutter as Changbin’s deep inhale gets caught in his throat. He inhales once again, and slowly breathes out, before he lets the words just fall from him. “I really do think I love you. I don’t know where to go from here, and I don’t know if you can understand how terrified I am.”

Minho doesn’t quite know how to respond. He watches a few tears start to roll down Changbin’s face, breaking down the confidence that was there for a fleeting moment. He instinctively reaches up to brush the tears away, causing the younger man to melt into his touch. A couple of rare wintry snowflakes fall in between them, one landing and subsequently melting on Changbin’s nose. “You really think you love me?” Minho softly questions, his voice coming off as soothing, yet anxious.

Changbin takes in a quick breath, shaking his head. “Minho,” his voice cracks as he knits his eyebrows together, “you and me, we…” Perhaps it’s the cold, but Changbin can’t quite get the words in his head to form the sentence he wants to say. That’s when it comes to him: there were some things where actions definitely spoke louder and more effectively than words.

A snowflake fell onto Changbin’s bottom lip right before his lips brushed up against Minho’s with a spark. Everything that felt confusing suddenly became clear. Tonight was the coldest night of winter so far this season, but it was like all of the ice around them had melted. Their kiss was nervous and awkward, but Minho pushed back, grabbing at Changbin’s neck, pulling him in closer and returning his kiss with a sense of urgency.

Changbin suddenly pulled back, taking a step backwards and staring at Minho with wide, terrified eyes. He frantically remembered that if either party developed too deep an emotional connection with the other, that their agreement could be rendered null and void by the other party. An overwhelming panic at the possibility of an upheaval of his life — going back to a life without Minho — overtook him. Not for the loss of financial stability, but the loss of connection, the loss of friendship they had built over the years.

His reaction was irrational, but the potential of heartbreak was so loud. It terrified and overwhelmed him, wrapping him in a bone-chilling embrace.

Minho takes a cautious step forward, staring at Changbin and reaching out to him with a timid hand. “Changbin, love, please…”

“Minho,” Changbin looks up at him, shaking his head and nearly hyperventilating. He takes a few steps backwards, watching a rapidly intensifying flurry of snow start to come between them. “Minho, I’m so sorry. This is all fucked up because of me. I shouldn’t have… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

His legs move before he can even acknowledge that he’s running. Changbin has no idea where exactly he is, but he’s maneuvering through alleyways and parking lots, backstreets and dead areas of town. He doesn’t consciously know where he is, but he somehow knows where he’s going. He gets far enough away, all the way out to Harbour Green Park. The sight of the ocean calms him down as he finally stops running.

Changbin slides on the slick grass, and he collides into the ground. He starts hyperventilating, then just gives up and lets the inevitable tears fall from his face, down to the chilled ground beneath him. Time passes as he cries, upset with the situation, but mostly angry at himself.

The potential of heartbreak caused him to panic, and he responded by giving into that fear, literally running away from the man he claimed to love. It was stupid, really, throwing everything away just because of the possibility of discomfort, of facing reality. Before, there was a chance that Minho felt the same way. Now? Now Changbin had practically guaranteed that there was no possibility for that anymore. Perhaps knowing that he was the cause of the complete unravelling of two years of emotional connection hurt the most.

No. What hurt the most was that he desperately wanted Minho to catch him as he fell.

#we're professional #skz smut #skz fics #minbin #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

[good-rwbyaus]

convincing |  #Actors and Actresses AU | mod lilac

AU where RWBY is an award-winning television show. Not many people realize that this show was actually a means for young actors and actresses to practice roles outside of what they usually play. Unintended consequences and out-of-character actors/actresses ensue. Previous pieces under the AU tag. 

Character: Yang, Blake

convincing | before filming

“No. Just no,” Yang shook her head as she stared at the deluded girl through her half-rimmed glasses. The labcoat she wore crumpled a little as she crossed her arms underneath her chest. 

Across from her was Blake who was sadly one of her two best friends, currently sucking on a lollipop and wearing a midnight black dress that was definitely not part of the dress code in this academy. Seriously, one small accident, and that dress is going to fall ap- errr...why was she thinking about that? Arggh. Dang it Blake.  

She shook her head to rid herself of the random thought. 

“Yaaaang. Come on. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I’m allowed to invite anyo-.” 

“Blake, it’s an opportunity for you, but I’m going to be an engineer. What am I going to do with acting skills?” Yang said disinterestedly, arranging the papers on her desk onto neat stacks. 

“It’ll be a nice change in pace for one. You can’t stay in this frozen wasteland all year,” the dark-haired girl grumbled as she wove a hand at the snow-crusted windows, “And it’d be nice to return to a place where skinny dipping wasn’t equivalent to a death sentence. Can’t go to the beach without your nippl-” 

“Blake!” 

“-ples freez- What? It’s true,” Blake said innocently under Yang’s incredulous stare. “Don’t be such a prude. Besides...” Blake elegantly stretched out her arms and turned her chin up,  “didn’t you say you wish you were more like beautiful, gracious, and assertive me?”

Yang stared in disbelief. How can someone’s skin be this thick?

“...I’m pretty sure I said I wished I was more confident,” Yang deadpanned, “The world definitely doesn’t need another you.” 

“I totally think the world needs a couple more of me’s, “ Blake hummed before suddenly leaning forward towards Yang’s face. She could smell the cherry flavor of the lollipop in the other girl’s breath. “How else am I gonna achieve my goal of permanently making you look like a tomato?” 

“That’s exactly why!” Yang yelled with a reddened face and then palmed Blake’s face lightly to push her away. “I’m not going!”

“Look, I don’t want to be pushy, but you said you wanted to be more confident.” Blake sighed before raising her index finger to the air.

“Confidence is really nothing more than playing a role. Being bigger than you actually are. And- ” Blake started before pausing. She pointed at Yang’s arm. 

“Wait. Can you get your hand off my face for a second? I’m being super serious here.” 

Belatedly Yang stopped palming the other girl’s face. 

“Everything in the world is just an act. You want to be an engineer, right?” Blake planted her hands at her hips. “You can tell others you’re smart and hard-working until you’re blue in the face, but no one’s gonna believe it if you can’t  play the part - show it in your body and actions. You’re always hunched over and looking like you wanna hide. You find it hard to look at others in the eye. You sneak around at the fringes of things...”

Yang grimaced at Blake’s observations because they were all true. Blake sighed.

"Holing up in the labs won’t suddenly grant you the skills needed to project confidence and smarts and integrity. Because they’re skills - you get them through use. That’s why this really is a good opportunity for you.” Blake finished gently and then adding self-righteously, “Why do you think I bring you clubbing with me all the time?”

“...That’s the reason why you keep bringing me to dance clubs?” Yang stared at Blake dully.  

“Well...maybe not entirely,” Blake smiled sheepishly before giving her a wink, “But my good intentions are still there! Besides I know you’ve been feeling homesick, and you haven’t taken a single vacation in the two years I’ve known you. Think about it as just going on an elective. An educational elective!” 

...She did miss her family despite the many differences between them. Most families didn’t have two moms and a dad. Most families didn’t consist completely of actors like her two moms, her dad, and even her younger sister. They didn’t question her when she went into engineering instead of the typical arts and drama route, but they were supportive like nothing else, even if they didn’t quite understand what she actually worked on. The love of family, she supposed. 

Blake must’ve noticed something in her face because she added, “And your family definitely misses you. So you gotta go back and show them you’re alright. And your sister’s participating too, so it’ll be a fun family gathering.”

“She is?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Didn’t you just li-?” Yang grumbled.

“Actually that wasn’t a lie. I just asked a rhetorical question that implied something completely different,” Blake smirked looking like a cat that caught the canary, “In all seriousness, my family is close friends with one of the organizers, so she let me know some of the confirmed list beforehand. And you wouldn’t be the only non-actor there. I heard a certain Arc is bringing someone who totally has no acting background to learn, so you’ll be in good company.”

“...Alright, I’ll think about it. No promises though.”

“No worries. Like I said, it’s an once in a lifetime opportunity involving the best actors. I wouldn’t ask you if I thought it’d hurt you,” Blake smiled, “Anywaaay, I’ll stop bothering you. I have to try and not fail Dr. Polendina’s physics quiz first thing in the morning, or my fam’s gonna cut me off from my allowance money. They’re too cruel.”

“It’s almost midnight! Why are you still here?!”

“Because I have a terrible family who insists on me getting a highly coveted, well-rounded education despite the fact I’m going to be an actress when I grow up,” deadpanned the other girl.

“Errr...”

“Well time to suffer... Catch you later, Yang!” Blake ran back to her room on the other side of the hall. 

After her footsteps receded, silence returned. 

Her eyes wandered over to the picture of her family on her desk: her uncle, her moms, her dad, and Ruby. She lowered her gaze briefly, considering the words that Blake told her. An opportunity to become more than she currently is, an opportunity to see her family, and maybe more importantly a chance to really understand her family and what they do. 

She nodded her head to herself, resolve now in her purple hues. 

“Alright. I’ll do it.” 

#actors and actresses au #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #rwby au #rwby #mod lilac #rwby fic

[sthrudl]

ATHENA CABIN KIDS n.1

where to start... my mom's Athena, she's smart and she's wise, she swore off gluten and she's sworn off guys

everyone sees the Athena kids as these perfectionist, organised cabin

don't be fooled its a front, the cabin is actually on fire

they are organised and neat until they are not; at the start of the project everything is nice, sticky notes arranged by colous, all necessary pens and tapes and papers on table

the after picture is a bit more ...lets say hectic: you can see three cups of what you assume was once coffie, a glass of water is in a bowl of halfeaten cereal, there are half eaten snacks everywhere and there is not a single pen in sight

they have a hanger for hair ties sine they keep loosing them and there Is No Time to find them

(when they do a general clean up, very much different from the weekly cleanup of "systematically hiding or throwing everything out" cleaning they find a button of hair ties)

they also have a coffee maker, they all hate the taste of that coffee but its their lifeblood

they have two modes: chill or GottaGoFast

chill: i finished my 5 assignments in a day and burned my computer after, but its okay, life is an illusion anyway ha ha

gotta go fast: well-maybe-i-did-just-drink-my -tenth-coffie-but-did-you-know-that-----

they are the ones who info dump you, you sitting by the campfire and compliment your friends new bracelet and the Athena kid just can't help themselves and go on a hour long presentation about the cultural development of jewelry

they also carry laser pointers in their pockets at all times. why? a wild presentation? a cat? who knows. well, the Athena kids do

they make each other friendship bracelets, for friendship yes. But! you can chew on them while studying

less scolding from the kids at the Infirmary for picking scars, so friendship bracelets are a win win

also they make origami while listening to lectures

Demeter: -1-

Apollo cabin: -1- -2-

Aphrodite cabin: -1- -2-

Hypnos cabin: -1-

#percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #athena #athena kids #athena cabin #camp half blood cabins #camp half blood cabin #camp half blood #percy jackson and the olympians #athena cabin kids n.1

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Ten

Clint trailed after you through the woods, idly reflecting that Lucky would be in doggie heaven with all the smells to smell and shit to chase. He wondered if he could have Nat bring him. But then, he didn’t want to bring more people here. He wanted you to himself. He wanted to coax you into coming home. To do that, you needed time. Time and some distance. 

Not, Clint thought to himself, that that was a bad thing. You knew what you needed better than he did. And, well. He definitely did not mind sleeping with you on his chest at night and wandering the woods with you when you got the itch to ramble. He liked it out here. It was different from the BFE of his childhood. 

And until now, he never thought he’d want this. The quiet domesticity of it. A creaky old house and a pretty girl to bring him coffee in the morning. “Y/N?” he asked panting, “Where the fuck are we going?”

You stop, leaning on your staff, “The caves,” you answer, smiling a little.

“You own fucking caves too?” he says, hurrying to catch up to them.

“Why do you think I bought this piece of property?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

Clint takes a drink of water and gives you a crooked smile, “It’s out of the way?”

“It’s out of the way, and was prime ground for bootleg hooch during Prohibition... The caves are man-made but with a little alteration I could make it work.”

“Work for what?” he says, catching up to you. 

You don’t answer but you do smile at him. And for a moment, Clint wonders what he’s gotten himself into. But still. As he followed you through the woods, he didn’t mind that either. You were magic. Everything about this piece of property had a palpable sense of otherness. It feels like it’s own universe, but then. That doesn’t surprise him either. This is where you go to hide. It makes sense that you’d arrange it to your liking. Especially when you tend to live and work in an environment that isn’t suited to you with all it’s concrete and lack of privacy. 

Clint can only hear his own footsteps. You slide through the brush like a ghost. Like you do on marble floors and carpet. It’s a common thing in the tower for someone to threaten to put a bell around your neck. And an even more common thing to have you fight rookies in a dark room to make them rely on more than their ears. They only do it once, but after that they get a lot more attentive. When you finally stopped walking in front of a cave, Clint whistled softly. “Neat,” he said walking closer, “This is man-made?”

You nod, “Yeah... A happy accident really. Whoever surveyed the shit for the realtor missed it or I would have NEVER afforded it.”

“Nice,” he said grinning.

You nod, smiling a little, “C’ mon,” you say, leading him inside, “I’ve gotta check on everything.”

Clint gestures for you to go ahead. Trying to remember how to be respectful of wards and things. But, when he crosses the threshold for just a second, he’s frankly in awe.

He can see what you meant by “A little Alteration” but, he’s shocked at the level of craft in all of it. It looks like a planetarium. With a waterfall. And exotic plants. And everywhere he looks there are shelves lined with books.

“A fucking water fall?” Clint yelped. “How!”

You smile up at him, kneeling to check on a plant, “Magic, Clint.”

“How deep is that little pool at the bottom?” he asks.

“Deep enough,” you say fondly.

“Really? Can I?” he says, excited.

You nod, “Have at it,” you tell him.

Clint doesn’t need telling twice, stripping out of his shirt and climbing up the rocks as quickly as he can pick a path. You half turn to watch him jump in and give him a small round of applause. 

“What’d the judges say?” he yelled.

“Amature Bullsiht,” you tease, “Weren’t you in the circus? Isn’t there supposed to be some pizazz?”

“Fuck you,” he says, swimming to the edge, “My form was impeccable.”

“No pizzaz, sorry,” you tell him, smirking.

“Pizzaz? You want pizzaz?” he grouses, climbing out to climb back up the rocks to jump again. You stay knelt at the edge, watching expectantly. And Clint, Bless him, does give you your required entertainment factor as he leaps off the rocks and does a flip before flipping you off.

“Beautiful,” you call giggling when he comes up sputtering. 

Clint swims back to the edge and grins up at you, “Come swim with me?” he says.

“Clint-”

“Oh come on,” he pouts, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you half-naked before. And don’t get me wrong... I appreciate the view, but really. It just gets boring swimming alone.” He can tell he pushed too hard when you look away and softens, hauling himself up to kiss your cheek. 

“I don’t really feel like swimming,” you tell him. Bucky’s voice in the back of your head telling you no one wanted you.

“Then you don’t have to,” he soothed, “But I really wish you would.” He’d love to rough house with you. To do all the splashing and giggling. But this place wasn’t a water park. It was a sanctuary. And it was yours. He was a guest here. So when you shake your head again, he kisses your nose and smiles. “Okay,” he murmurs. 

You get up and lay towels where he can get to them before padding off to check on other things. Clint watched you for a moment, floating on his back in the perfect temperature water and watching the ceiling. Stars floated by on the ceiling, drifting to their positions as of the time of day. A facsimile moon steadily rising and filling in but... that tells him nothing about the time. Not that he cares. It feels comfortable. 

Still, eventually, he climbs out and towels off, “This place is incredible,” he says, “But what is it?”

You shrug, “An archive. An extra layer of security. It’s on a ley line so... I could stay here forever if I needed to.”

Clint nods, “Thank you,” he says, kissing your temple, “For brining me.”

“You’re the first,” you tell him, smiling a little.

“Really?” he asked.

You nod, thinking. Clint fit here. But in your mind’s eye, you couldn’t see Bucky here. In fact, your wards probably wouldn’t have let him through. No one who had any ill intent could get through. And you knew Clint didn’t. His intentions were clear. 

___________

When Clint wakes up alone in the middle of the night, he looks for you frantically for a minute, fixing his hearing aids in place as he goes room to room. 

You’re gone. Just gone. So he bursts outside to check the grounds. The barn, the shed. and then, coming around the corner of the house, he sees you. In the pond, wading into the water. He stops short when he realizes two things. One, that you’re perfectly fine, and two, you are very naked. Skin glowing in the full moonlight. His mouth goes dry and he takes a deep breath. It looks like a scene from a movie or something. It makes him feel light-headed and he wants to creep closer for a better look. He wants to sneak back into the house and give you privacy. But he’s stuck, staring. Aching to touch you. To show you what it feels like to have someone love you like you deserve. 

But when you start to turn towards him, he bolts. Acutely aware that staring at you is creepy and he needs to leave. He needs to stop doing it and respect whatever it is you’re doing. 

Still, when he gets in the house, even a cold shower can’t do anything for him. And he hates it. He feels like a stupid kid again. A stupid kid backstage at the circus with a crush on a pretty red-headed sword swallower. He feels even more stupid adjusting the temperature of the water and thinking about you. About the things, he wanted to do with you. The way you'd sound crying out for more. Whimpering his name. He’s ashamed of himself honestly when he finds release. But he has to admit that he feels better. Like he can go back to sleep.

But he doesn’t. 

He waits until he hears you in your bathroom, right before dawn. Then gets back out of bed and goes to fix you... something.

“Clint?” he hears from the kitchen door.

“I-I- I woke up and you were gone,” he starts.

You sigh, “I- had a nightmare,” you explain, “I didn’t want to wake you up trying to get back to sleep.”

He nods, feeling like a bigger asshole, “So I looked for you,” he said blushing scarlet, “And well I- I found you.”

Your cheeks heat and he swallows hard, “Sorry- I - I didn’t I mean I didn’t stay but- and I didn’t mean to. I left.”

You nod, “It’s okay- sorry. I was too hot.”

“I’ll say,” he blurts out.

And even as your cheeks burn, you giggle.

______________

Clint leans on the railing, watching you lock the door.  “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks, “We don’t have to go back yet.”

You nod and look around, “I mean, I have to go back sometime.”

“But now?” he asks, cupping your chin in his hand.

You nod again and he pulls you close.

“I’ll be right next to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He isn’t sure how to define this relationship. It feels like dating. It feels like love. But he’s not kissed you since he kissed you to stop you talking. And every night in your bed were chaste, soft cuddles. But he didn’t care. It felt good. It felt right. Somehow physically more intimate than if he had had you riding his dick every night. He figures that this defies explanation and... honestly. For right now he likes it this way. More than friends and less than lust. That he can deal with. 

And. To top it off. You’re coming home.

Tags:

@lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #clint barton #Clint Barton x reader #fluff #flirting

[tobirama-says-fuck-the-uchihas]

Hashirama & Tobirama With a Little Sister Headcanons

HASHIRAMA

( as children )

♡ butsuma was never really a good father. he was constantly pushing his children into war one way or the other, so i headcanon him as being, to put it bluntly, a very abusive father.

♡ i imagine butsuma being absolutely infuriated when he finds out that his youngest child is a girl

♡ "what am i going to do with this? she won't ever be as strong as my sons!"

♡ with this being mentioned, hashi and tobi's little sister grows up constantly being called a 'total misfire'

♡ so, with that in mind...

♡ get ready for a whole lot of UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

♡ GOD, hashi just loves her SO MUCH

♡ when she was little, hashirama would play with her in her room like, all the time. no buts. all the time.

♡ "wanna play with the blocks? you want the green one? here you go!! i love you so much!!!"

♡ he can't believe he has a little sister! three brothers it took to get him here and now all he wants is to play with her constantly

♡ when kawarama and itama become fatalities to the uchiha clan, hashirama has a newfound drive to protect his youngest sibling. he vows to never, ever let anything happen to her, may god help him.

♡ stands up for her against their father. butsuma is furious, but hashi's little sister never forgets that. hashi made a vow to protect her, and that's exactly what he's gonna do.

♡ whenever she has nightmares, he's always there to comfort her, no matter what. if he has a curfew and has to be in his room and stay in there at a certain time, he'll sneak out and crawl through the halls just to get to her room. #goodfam

♡ during the colder months he likes to wrap a long scarf around his sister and throw one of the ends over her head, just for shits and giggles

♡ she doesn't mind, she's giggling too

( as teenagers )

♡ when things get a little more rocky in their lives now that hashirama is older, he finds he doesn't have enough time for his baby sister anymore. right around the corner he'll be in his twenties, and his baby sister is still only barely past the age of ten. now that he's much more stronger and able to provide more for his family, he's willing to do anything it takes, even if it means he won't always physically be there for his sister.

♡ when butsuma passes away and hashirama becomes the head of the senju clan, there's a lot of strain on him, but he manages to pull through

♡ his baby sister is always getting noogies or having her hair ruffled by him

♡ once she was complaining about her hair getting too long and how she didn't like it, so hashi sat her down and cut her hair for her. he was like "OMG KSJGFSHGBJRGH IM GONNA CUT YOUR HAIR ARE YOU READY? im not the best at cutting hair. like, TERRIBLE. im TERRIBLE at it. but i hope it'll look good on u!! cus ur so cute!! look at those squishy cheeks!!!!"

♡ his little sister is like "uhh, on second thought???"

♡ he does a terrible job

♡ he cuts it at about a few inches above her shoulders but it's so UNEVEN

♡ he tried his best

♡ she cries because it looks so bad but can't get mad at poor hashi

♡ his little sister enjoys practicing being a homemaker before fighting other clans, so that's what she does. while hashi and tobi are out, she stays at home and sweeps, scrubs the floors on her hands and knees, does the dishes, washes the laundry as best she can, etc

♡ by the time hashi and tobi get home she's fallen asleep on the floor

♡ "HEY (NAME) WANNA HEAR ABOUT THIS CRAZY THING THAT HAPPENED TODAY"

♡ when she woke up nothing went well.

♡ if his little sister wants to dabble in some medical ninjutsu, hashi complies immediately. 3 seconds after the words are out of her mouth hashi is dashing out of the house towards the medical quarters to see if he can find a nurse nin to teach his lil sis

♡ oh, btw, lots of "sis"'s

♡ and hugs

♡ and cheek kisses

♡ he can't resist he loves his baby sister SO much. like, 100/10 would fr die for her

TOBIRAMA

( as children )

♡ he comes off as a bit cold and distant sometimes, but he really does care about his little sister, especially after itama and kawarama.

♡ whenever she'd come up to him wanting to play he shrugged her off and made her cry quite a handful of times, but every time he'd cringe at her sniffling and would be guilt-tripped into stacking blocks with her or some shit like that lmfao

♡ tobi definitely would not go to hashirama's level of affection for their little sister. it's just... it's just kinda nasty to him

♡ he hates the idea of receiving such affection and wouldn't "obsessively" kiss or hug his baby sister like SOMEONE he knows

♡ although once in a while he'll lay a hand on the top of her head

♡ she doesn't really know what's happening but he takes it off after .2 seconds

♡ he just aint that kinda brutha

♡ one time his sister started uncontrollably crying in the garden outside of their house and when he came to see what was wrong she pointed at a dead lizard on the ground and "i stepped on him!" poor babey

♡ tobirama honestly doesn't see how that's a problem. big deal, how many, i dunno, ants has he stepped on before? he never cried about that. he just cant understand what the big deal is. it's a lizard. there's billions of them.

♡ "so what? he was bound to be caught by a bird sometime or the other."

♡ in which the crying ensues, again, and tobirama begrudgingly places a hand on his sister's shoulder in some way to console her, but that's the best he can do. if his sister jumps at him while she's crying for comfort, he may lay a hand on the back of her neck while cries on him. that's it though

( as teenagers )

♡ when he's in his late teens, he's constantly out of the house preparing battle strategies just in case. he's virtually never at home except for when he gets off from his strategizing earlier than normal. when he's out late, he doesn't come home till past midnight probably or he'll be pulling an all-nighter. it's just who he is, and battle strategizing in case of a uchiha attack is necessary. someone's gotta do it

♡ now that his sister is older, she now has a bit of knowledge in the kitchen, and sometimes makes a little, small snack for her brother if he gets home late. it's not much, but it's the best she can do. probably something like a little tiny cupcake or a small dish of sliced fruit for him

♡ he appreciates it, but will never ever say that to her. his pride wouldn't be able to take it, showing thanks to a little girl when at the very least it should be him cooking for her. but we all know he doesn't have time for that

♡ once hashirama switched around the salt and sugar jars by accident since he just. he just doesn't know anything that goes on in the kitchen. it was a mistake. their little sister decided to make a little treat for tobirama when he got home, and she put salt in the cupcake instead of sugar. made it all nice and as neat as an eleven-year-old could, even put only a very small amount of icing on the top, just how tobi likes it

♡ when tobi got home he found it sitting out on the kotatsu in the dining room and decided to take only a bite before getting ready for a much-needed hot bath

♡ and promptly spat it out on the floor

♡ he was SO angry. ???????? like??????? did she do this on purpose??? was she messing with him?? was she angry that tobirama couldn't stay home the other night to eat dinner with her???? she knew that he had a busy schedule, so her giving him this garbage was unacceptable and selfish

♡ he's just a big grump

♡ when he confronts her about it the next day, shes like ??????? huh??? i didn't put salt in the food, get your mouth checked

♡ and then hashirama, amidst the loud arguing, is rubbing his neck like ...... hey guys, i have a confession to make

♡ when konoha is formed, tobirama is old enough to have his own home, and hashirama is arranged for a marriage with a woman named mito uzumaki. so tobirama moves out, and brings his little sister with him

♡ she runs the house while he's out being hashi's right-hand-man and whatnot

♡ y'know, slaving away, but now, thanks to hashi, pretty good at medical ninjutsu

♡ now that they're living alone together, tobirama has a bit more time for her. when he's free, he takes his sister out to a secluded spot to practice battle moves with her, pretty much trying to show her everything he knows, as much as he can. if his sister has an affinity for water like him, then all the more convenient. this gives him a much larger platform to teach her on

♡ she lowkey hates his style of teaching though

♡ "i can't be hitting you that hard" headass

♡ tobi she's like, thirteen, with barely any battle experience. you're a grown adult male whom has literally wasted some people, including that spikey-haired angry man's brother, ok

#hashirama #hashirama senju #tobirama #tobirama senju #hashirama x reader #hashirama senju x reader #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto headcanons #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden headcanons #founders trio #founders trio headcanons #naruto scenarios #naruto shippuden scenarios #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden imagines

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) Pt 5

Catch up on parts 1, 2, 3, and 4. Tell me what you think. Tell me Richard’s not the only one who has complicated feelings about home and what it means.

***

They finish dinner, Diane chattering about the goings on in the neighborhood, gossiping about Richard’s old classmates, and positively lighting up when she tells them Richard’s sister, Caitlyn, is taking the afternoon off and driving to Tulsa tomorrow from Oklahoma City, so she will arrive in the afternoon in time for family dinner at Brothers Houligan, Caitlyn’s favorite. 

Throughout this endless stream of words, Richard watches Jared hanging on every syllable. He’s eaten every last one of his carrots and potatoes, moving his roast into a neat pile on the side of his plate, and he laughs at all the right places, asks all the right questions that cause Richard’s mom to clap her hands in delight and coo over what a sweet boy he is. Richard mostly stays silent, staring down at his plate, thankful for someone who can finally play the role of the son his parents always wanted. 

It’s an unfair thought and he knows it, but seeing his parents so delighted feels like a weight has been lifted. If coming home were always like this, it would be so much easier. And Jared, god, Jared’s like a completely different person, all easygoing and unburdened...he looks good. Lighter, somehow. Maybe that’s just the consequence of having people around who notice him, ask about his life - fuck, Richard never asks him anything. Not unless it’s related to Pied Piper. All of their personal crap has been shoved out of the way because of Gavin fucking Belson and his fucking lawsuit and the monumental stress and anxiety and lack of sleep and like, defcon five-level emergency his life has been at for the past year. He shovels pot roast into his mouth and vows that when they get back to Palo Alto, he’ll do better, be better. Because it’s...nice. Nice to see Jared smile like this, to see him in his natural element among nice, normal people instead of their little band of freaks back at the incubator. 

A yellow, ugly bruise of a thought crosses his mind, and Richard bats it away as best he can but it lingers - in this moment, he wishes he could transfer his parents who care too much over to Jared, who's been cared for so little.

***

After dinner, they move to the living room to sit on the huge overstuffed sofa and watch recorded episodes of Jeopardy! that Steven had saved for Richard’s visit. It’s one of the few activities Richard and his dad can agree on, and for an hour or so, Richard is able to relax a little. There’s a category about North American birds that Jared sweeps, and he shoots a sunny, bashful smile at Richard when he gets the last one right. For the first time in months, the knot in Richard’s stomach begins to unclench.

But then Steven bids them goodnight and heads down the hall to get ready for bed, and Diane starts talking and the knot gets tighter, and Richard grinds his teeth until his jaw aches. It’s just - she never stops talking, even when she’s physically exhausted. “You boys must be tired after such a long day,” she says with a yawn, but she’s still stubbornly trying to stay up and get Richard to talk about his life, every question like lemon juice on a papercut. 

(“How are uh, oh the two that bicker all the time like old marrieds, you know--”

“Dinesh and Gilfoyle? Oh those two! Such fun. They fight, but I think they really cherish each other,” Jared supplies with a wistful smile.

“And Nelson? I mean, I talk to his mama, but I do worry about that boy. Such a sweetheart, but I swear he doesn’t have the sense the good lord gave a goose.”

“Big Head’s fine, mom. He’s great, actually, he’s got a boat. And a guy. For the boat, a boat guy, I mean, I guess you gotta have one if you...have a boat.”

“Oh! Well, that’s good. Good.”

She smiles, hopeful, tinged with expectation, always wanting more from him, always wanting something he just can’t seem to give her. 

When she gives up and launches into a story about Miss Louise down the street, whom Richard hasn’t talked to since he was 17, the familiar mix of relief and annoyance he feels is almost comforting.)

“I know it’s late, Mom, you wanna go watch Fallon with Dad.” 

A guilty look steals across her face as she protests, “No, I didn’t mean that! I just wanted to make sure y’all had what you needed. I already put fresh towels in your room, Richie, but let me just go fetch some for you, Jared, and I’ll put them in the guest room.” 

“Oh uh actually I think I’m gonna stay in the guest room. It’s uh, Jared talks in his sleep, so. To not wake you up, I thought, my room is uh, further away.” 

Diane’s eyebrows raise for a moment and she looks at her son like she isn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Okay, sweetie, that’s fine,” is all she says, and makes her way down the hall.

Richard turns to Jared on the couch, “Is that ok? I mean I just thought, with the German...”

Jared places one of his huge hands over his heart with an expression that means he’s about to start composing odes or sonnets or something, and Richard cuts him off quick, “It’s not a big deal, enjoy sleeping in a sad virgin’s bedroom. I mean I was, at the - I never, well I have now, I’m not anymore, I - I’ve had sex before!”

Diane clears her throat. “Fresh towels are laid out for you - you boys need anything else?”

Jared stands up from the couch to say, “Thank you, Diane, I think we have everything we need,” to allow Richard time for his blush to fade.

She says her goodnights, then makes her way down the hallway stifling another yawn. Jared turns to Richard and the sight feels surreal, incongruous, his lanky frame plopped in the middle of his childhood home. Richard suppresses the wild urge to laugh out loud at the turn his life has taken, somehow beyond his control; he has dreams sometimes where he is driving but can’t keep his eyes open, trying in vain to steer without careening off a cliff or into oncoming traffic. But no matter how hard he tries he can’t see, so he just keeps moving forward, knuckles white around the steering wheel, trying with all his might to get...somewhere. 

“I guess we should turn in as well, don’t you think?” Jared asks and Richard looks up, blinking at him. 

“Uhhh. Yeah, I - um, I guess.” The weight of the day is hanging around his neck, the tiny swp-swp-swp of the wicker-blade ceiling fan putting him into a sort of trance. He gets up and takes their bags, dragging them down the hall while Jared stops to stare at the photos hung there. The series of Richard’s school pictures, kindergarten to junior year arranged in small circles around the big circle in the middle containing his senior picture. Those dorky glasses, his ill-fitting polo shirt with the collar askew, his hair an afro-like halo of curls around his head. That wide smile, so much easier and open than he remembered being at the time. God, when was the last time you smiled like that? he asks himself. He has no answer.

The familiar drone of the newscasters on NewsChannel 8 drift down the hall from behind his parents’ closed door. His dad always kept the volume too loud. Inexplicably, Richard is surprised by a sudden wave of nostalgia so strong it almost makes him nauseous. Fondness and grief and the urge to hide away from everything are all mixed up inside him and he turns to Jared looking for - a solution? A distraction?  But clamps his mouth shut when he realizes belatedly that Jared doesn’t know what this feels like. He doesn’t have a home to go back to. 

“Hey Jared?”

He turns from the doorway of Richard’s old bedroom, looking a bit pink around the edges. Like Richard caught him doing something scandalous. The idea of Jared doing anything scandalous amuses him - this guy fucks, his mind supplies helpfully - and it’s enough to shake him out of his funk. This has been a long, long day and he knows exactly what will make him feel better. 

“It’s only 9:30 in Palo Alto. You wanna go somewhere?”

#jarrich #silicon valley hbo #jarrich fic #sv squad #my sv fic #jared dunn #richard hendricks #well i've never been to heaven

[danetobelieve]

Gardening Time || Ricky and Winston

TIMING: 17/06/2020 LOCATION: the Dane family garden PARTIES: @ricky-corderbro SUMMARY: Ricky and Winston help Winston’s parents fix up their garden.

Winston had missed having Ricky to themself. It wasn’t that having Rio live with them was something that they didn’t like. Quite the opposite all things considered. But as they strode through the blazing sun of that June afternoon, Winston couldn’t help but relish in the time alone with their best friend. “Yo,” Winston shouted towards Ricky, “I got you a bottle of water.” They tossed the perspiring plastic towards their friend before popping the top off of their own and swallowing several ice cold mouthfuls. Adjusting their prescription sunglasses so they sat more comfortably on their face, Winston wiped their hands dry on the dirty tank top that they were wearing and squatted down next to the portion of the beds that they had been working on. They heard the buzz of Ricky’s power tools before it shut off. “Mom said that she is making your favourite, she also asked me where Rio was and why that nice young man wasn’t here helping us….” Winston sighed and tried not to think about Rio. 

There was nothing quite so relaxing to Ricky as physical labor. The feeling he got from being bone-tired after a hard day’s work was one of the best he knew, and a day of repairing raised beds at the Dane’s was just the thing he needed to get himself there. He looked up from measuring out board and caught the bottle of water that was tossed to him, wiping the sweat from the side of it with the shirt tucked into his back pocket. Spending two weeks almost exclusively in his seal form hadn’t done anything for his tan, and he was bound and determined to keep it going if he was going to be out in the yard all day. He made a quick cut with the circular saw he had and then put the now-ready board on top of the small pile he’d been accumulating, “Unnecessary, but kind of her.” He didn’t hear the sigh, but he saw the body movement and knew what had happened, “So we just gonna pretend you’re not crushing on our other roommate real hard? Or are we gonna talk about it.” 

Quirking an eyebrow, Winston realised that they should’ve just not said anything if they wanted to avoid having to have this conversation with Ricky. But it was probably for the best, after all their best friend usually gave them the best advice. “I think she was doing it to say thank you for helping with the garden, at this point if you actually charged them for the work that you do for them then they would probably owe you a minimum of five figures. If not six.” That was a joke. Winston limited the amount that their parents took advantage of Ricky. Somewhat. “What is there to talk about?” Winston asked as they set their water down and began to grab the pieces of wood that Ricky had been cutting, placing them in their relevant places, Winston kept working, it was easier to not talk if they were genuinely occupied doing something else, “If you want to talk about it so badly then you can start…” Winston wasn’t looking for a conversation about this, but something told them that Ricky wasn’t giving them the opportunity to decide differently. 

“You don’t charge family. I’m always happy to help where I can.” Gathering up some of the boards Ricky moved to the side of one of the beds that needed replacing. Maine weather, particularly the coastal winters, weren’t kind to outdoor lumber, so beds like these needed to be replaced every handful of years. Angela Dane kept the plants in the beds in pristine health, which meant a hearty enough root system that Ricky could remove the rotten planks without any dirt sloughing off onto the lawn. Settling into the grass he heaved on one of the planks, the sharp sound of cracking wood filling the warm day, “That might be the most fucking defensive I’ve ever seen you, my dude.” He kept going, board by board, until he had a pile of rubbish lumber on one side of him nearly as big as the pile of new. Drill in hand he began the work of fastening the pieces of the new raised bed together, bit by bit, “Well where do we wanna start. The fact that there was some pretty meaningful hand holding before I left, or the fact that there was a kiss afterwards, or the fact that you guys have been spending a whole lotta time in that old library of yours. Or do we wanna zoom out and talk about why you’re so defensive about having a crush on someone. I’ve got literally all day.”

“And if you’re not charging family you also don’t complain when mom decides that she is going to cook your favourite meal, I think it is her way of paying you and saying thank you for all of the help.” Winston knew that Ricky knew all of this already. Winston moved to the other side of the bed and chanted in Latin for a moment. The boards on their side cracked before splintering away from the beds and arranging themselves in a neat pile. Winston felt the energy drain from them as they did so, more sweat pouring down their neck and back as they exerted magical energy. “I don’t - I’m not -” Winston swallowed, “I’m not being defensive.” They pouted, very aware that they were indeed being defensive. “I just don’t really want to talk about the fact that I’ve made our living situation incredibly awkward, I don’t want to talk about the fact that the guy I like I’ve already slept with his sister and I don’t want to talk about the fact that Orion probably doesn’t even feel the same way about me. We’re really good friends sure but out of the two of us I don’t think he would pick me over you, have you seen you? Those rippling abs. The toned arms. I look like a toothpick next to you. Besides, like I said, I’m not being defensive.”

“Helping is what I do. You know that. But I will never turn down Angela Dane’s famous pulled pork. It’s almost as good as mine.” Ricky watched with a wry smile as his roommate chanted low and intense before the boards on their side of the bed arranged themselves very neatly in a refuse pile, “Fuckin show off.” he muttered with a grin. Winston’s use of and comfort with magic had grown by leaps and bounds over the last few months as they explored it and Ricky was so incredibly proud of them for it. “It’s only awkward if you guys make it awkward.” He slotted a few more boards in place, screwing them together before going to grab some smaller pieces to use to reinforce the joint, “Well admittedly the Athena thing is fucking awkward. There’s no way around that.” Ricky managed to get the drill set down carefully before bursting into uproarious laughter, “That’s your fucking excuse?!” His laughter slowly subsided by degrees and he wiped mirthful tears from his face, almost certainly leaving a streak of dirt on his cheek. He looked down at what was admittedly a very well maintained body and laughed, “Winston. I walk around the house in just a pair of sweatpants enough to know that Rio is definitely not into me. Which is why I know I can walk around the house in just a pair of sweatpants. This is not a real fucking comparison this is you trying to hide behind an excuse you’re reaching for. There’s no picking between the two of us. I’m not even on the board. And my dude my love my bro my sun and moon and stars…. You’re being the most defensive.” 

“Almost doesn’t mean that it is better Ricky,” Winston replied glibly. They adored both cooks. However their mother would always have to win out. Winston had a special place in their heart for their mother’s cooking. Panting slightly from the exertion, Winston smiled. “If I can do magic it’s got to be useful for more then fighting things right,” besides they needed to practice everything more. Building their magical muscles was something that both Morgan and Nell had recommended and Nell continued to push the point in their training sessions. “Well, it is already awkward and I don’t see that things are going to get any better anytime soon, I don’t even know where I would start.” Winston wasn’t content to sit this one out. But honestly what was the other option? They weren’t built to deal with this sort of thing. This was why they didn’t generally date. Also because no one seemed to notice that they existed until the Quinn’s. Which was a weird thing to think. “Whatever,” Winston knew that Ricky was right, they knew that they were just going to have to be honest about this but the truth was that they weren’t sure that they could handle the rejection if the worst was true. “I’m not good at this, I don’t do dating because this always happens. Besides, he’s not going to want to date someone who slept with his sister.” 

“You’re biased as hell. You can’t weigh in on this as a judge.” The smile grew by degrees as Winston talked about their magic, “Exactly. I’m sure you’ve got more than just flinging fireballs at my porch. It’s nice to do things out of the ordinary. I assume... I’m not magical at all but. I’m just making wild assumptions.” between the two of them the first bed was reassembled in pretty short order and then they moved onto the second one; Ricky stretching languidly in the sun, “I know this seems hypocritical coming from someone whose entire identity is a carefully constructed lie, but, you gotta be up front and honest about this shit. Which also begs the question… what do you feel when it comes to Rio?” He laughed a little bit at Winston’s statements, which lined up pretty neatly with his own life, “Well that’s why I don’t date either. Also because it’s a hassle. Also because I’m very busy. Though there were a couple times last week…” He trailed off as he thought back to his vacation before refocusing in on the conversation, “You don’t know that. You can’t read minds. Yet. I think” 

“Why not? I can’t be bought when I’ve already decided the truth, so really when you think about it that way I am the least biased judge possible.” Winston tapped the side of their head and winked. “It’s nice to do something that would’ve taken me way more time and effort then before, or to do things that wouldn’t be possible without magic. That stuff is really rewarding. Throwing fireballs is cool and all but, it’s dangerous and it’s exhausting. I’d rather help people then blow things up. But that’s just me. Everyone’s different.” They laughed once more at Ricky and nodded. “Yeah, that is hypocritical…” they knew exactly how they felt about Rio, it was pretty obvious to them, this was more then just a crush. They couldn’t explain it but there was something about Rio that made their heart skip a beat. It gave them that warm fuzzy feeling whenever he was around. “I really like him dude,” Winston replied with a shrug, “I don’t know when it stopped being platonic and became Romantic, I don’t think it really matters…” they trailed off once more and sighed. “Is this that Tommy guy? How did that go…?”

“Yes but having decided the truth ahead of the judging means you’re super ultra biased. I’m at a disadvantage cuz she’s your mom.” Ricky heaved on the planks, dismantling the second bed in short order, “I gotta talk to your mom about snaking some of her herbs for cooking. I can’t garden for shit so I gotta rely on other people for fresh food.” He set his work aside though as Winston kept talking, deciding that the beds could wait in favor of giving his best friend his full attention. He stretched out in the sun, looking over at Winston as they talked. “Well. Then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to be entirely honest about it. Which I know is literally more terrifying than an eldritch squid god, but, it’s either that or it festers and eats away at you and ends up sabotaging your friendship with him and then you’re doublefucked. And not in the fun way.” With a snort Ricky sat back up and resumed his work on the beds, “Oh absolutely not. Nice try, Timothy Topic-Change. We’re talking about your love life, not mine.” 

“That is correct, Winston replied with a shrug. Despite their ability to rip the beds apart with magic, watching Ricky do it with such ease was always impressive. The muscles were apparently not just cosmetic. “I am sure she won’t mind sending you some of the fresh stuff when it comes in, it’s not as if we don’t have an overabundance of garden space to work with.” Winston had kept working but found themselves distracted by the topic at hand. “I know that eventually Rio and I will- I know that we will need to talk,” Winston had never said mitted that out loud until this point and were almost reticent to really hear themselves admit it. Turning back to their work, Winston began replacing the boards that they had previously removed with new ones and set about securing them in place. “But I want to hear about pretty boy Tommy and all of the love that you two share for one another.” 

“Well that’s because she’s an angel of a woman and I adore her. I’ll have to do some canning and bring your parents some salsa and pickles and stuff. Do they like fish? I’ll smoke them some fish. Or cure them some. Or both! We’ll play it by ear.” as they reassembled the new bed Ricky listened to Winston talk, mulling over his point of view as they worked, “Which is the most daunting thing. Because it requires a shit ton of honesty with no guarantee of a successful payoff. But. If you don’t it’s going to fester. You can already feel the oppressive weight of awkwardness in the house. You don’t want that to get any worse.” Pausing he took a swig of the water that Winston had given him earlier, enjoying the feel of the icy cold filling his body, “There’s nothing to hear about with me and Tommy. We practically grew up together. He’s just like six months older than me. Human, but the whole village knows. It’s one of those oh the Muirgens no they’re just totally normal people wink wink nudge nudge things. They keep our secrets and we keep anything untoward from coming up on the beaches and invading the village. There’s certainly no love that we share for each other. He’s taking over the dairy from his dad so his dad can retire and he was just asking if I had any plans to move over there to be near my family. The sex, admittedly, is amazing, but it’s definitely nothing more than that.” 

“Yeah they’ll eat pretty much anything, so fish is definitely on the menu.” Winston loved how well Ricky was regarded by the family. It had taken no time at all for the entire family to help. Winston knew that Ricky had a permanent invite to family event from that point forward. “Both sounds good, whichever you decide to do I am sure that they aren’t going to complain about it.” Swallowing, Winston considered whether they were ready to be honest with Rio. The answer felt like a resounding no. Winston wasn’t about to just admit that they had feelings. Rio probably didn’t share them and if things weren’t awkward now then they definitely would be after they had been through that conversation. That was not something that Winston was rushing to do. “That sounds like the beginning thing that the protagonist says at the beginning of a romantic comedy, then it turns out that he was the one that you were meant to be with all along. You can tell because the sex was good.” 

“I’ll just make up a nice basket for them. Everyone likes a nice basket of homecooked and homecured and homecanned shit. Maybe I’ll even make the basket. Seems all very small town America and lovely. Throw a gingham cloth in there to line it. It’ll be lovely. Some lovely fuckin stuff for your family because they’re amazing.” Ricky noticed how quickly Winston had latched onto Tommy as a way to duck out of the actual conversation they were having, “It’s me. The sex is always good. I don’t believe in bad sex. That’s a waste of everyone’s time. It’s a moot fucking point. Tommy Flaherty isn’t leaving Ireland, and I’m not leaving White Crest. He’ll find a nice boy from the village, settle down, have a big ol family and be perfectly fine. This is not the romantic comedy you think it’s going to be. But. Returning back to the ACTUAL point of this conversation.” A few more boards went into place and he drilled them in, pausing for a moment to sand down an unacceptably rough edge, “I can scoot outta the house for a night or two if you want some privacy to hash it all out. You definitely don’t need my presence looming over you like a fucking henge when you’re trying to admit you’ve got a crush on someone.” 

“I don’t think that my mother would need or want you to learn how to weave a basket for her, a store bought one will be just fine.” Winston couldn’t help but smile. Ricky was a very good friend. “You can believe bad sex doesn’t exist and still have bad sex though,” Winston was sure that they were a bad sex story for one of the few people they’d slept with. They weren’t as successful as others in their endeavours but they weren’t completely inexperienced either. Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston sighed a dramatic sigh. “That’s what you think, secretly we’ve been in contact ever since you left and he is on his way to sweep you off your feet. When are you going to find a nice boy to settle down with Ricky?” Winston asked with a smirk, it was easier to bully Ricky about his love life then discuss their own. “I don’t know if things are going to need that, we’ll let you know I guess. I just don’t see the need to admit that I have a crush on someone. Especially not to Rio’s face.” 

“I just graduated college. I’m single. I’m self-employed. I literally have nothing better to do than pick up new skills like that. And your family is worth it.” Ricky raised an eyebrow as Winston really leaned into the Tommy thing, “uh huh. When everyone I love is all well and truly taken care of, when there’s nobody left to help, then I’ll find someone to settle down with. But not a minute before. It’s just not a priority for me. I have more important things to worry about.” He sighed as they continued their work, pausing for a moment to reach across the bed and squeeze Winston’s hand, “Because, again recognizing my own hypocrisy here, if you don’t talk about these things they sit on your heart and rot, and that rot starts to poison everything else. Admitting you have a crush on someone always fucking sucks. But it’s the better option than the alternative.” 

Winston paused for a second and shrugged. “Hey dude, you’re the one that wants to stay single so if you want to become a basket weaver and pen an entirely new term for a bachelor then please be my guest.” Smirking gently at Ricky’s response, Winston couldn’t help but shrug as they finished their garden bed and moved to their water, draining it in one swift motion, Winston tossed the bottle into the pile of trashed boards that they had to dispose of when this was all done. “I don’t know how I can make Orion a priority, there’s way too much for me left to do, there’s too many people that need my help and with Bea dead and Celeste too I need to be there for Ariana and Nell and Luce,” Winston thought about all of their friends. They’d been so excited by this. They’d wanted it for Winston but they weren’t sure that they were really good enough for Rio. Swallowing, Winston sighed. “I don’t agree that it is better then the alternative because if we just didn’t address it then it probably wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m sensing a lot of fuckin’ sass in that statement, Dane. A. Lot. Of. Sass. Which I’m not appreciating.” Ricky abandoned the construction of the bed entirely, wandering over to lay down in the grass next to Winston, watching almost cartoonishly fluffy clouds meander their way across the sky. “We live weird fucking lives in a weird fucking town. It seems like every week there’s an apocalypse lurking round the corner and there’s always something to be done, someone to be cared for, some evil to be vanquished. But if you really like him you owe it to yourself, and frankly to him, to be honest about it. If for no other reason than in the middle of all of this insanity you’ve got to spend at least a tiny bit of time selfishly caring for yourself. Otherwise you’ll just give too much and there’ll be nothing left to give.” He knew the daming hypocrisy of the statement, as someone who focused almost entirely on other people to avoid thinking about himself, but it was decently sound advice anyway. Even if he didn’t take it, “I don’t think this is a “if I don’t look at it it’ll go away” problem. But that’s just my two cents.” 

Raising an eyebrow gently Winston shrugged in response. “If I didn’t sass you then who would?” They were sure that there were plenty of people left in this world who would be willing and happy to sass Ricky. Though maybe they weren’t brave enough to. Laying next to their friend, Winston watched the clouds float over the sephia lenses ontop of their eyes. Sighing, Winston wondered if they could just drop this conversation. Obviously not. “I know, I know, you know how many times I have given people this same piece of advice, just be honest, there’s nothing that you can lose from being honest and being honest makes it better. I know the advice, I could’ve taken my own advice by this time if I wanted to…. It just doesn’t feel like it’ll go well and honestly I’d rather do this forever then maybe run the risk of losing my friend. I know the problem isn’t going to disappear but if I do something it might jsut make it worse and I really don’t want that.”

“Literally about 75% of the town. I’m not lacking for fucking sass in my life. There’s literally a waiting list. People have to check in online and then they get a text when their table is ready at Chateau Sass Ricky.” They lay next to each other on the warm grass in silence for a long moment, watching the clouds roll by and listening to the sound of the birds in the trees butting up against the Dane’s pristine backyard. Ricky reached about for a moment before he found Winston’s hand and squeezed it tightly, “The double-edged sword of honesty. It’s the right thing to do, but, the penalties for unwanted outcomes are pretty fucking severe.” He kept his hand around Winston’s, sitting in the silence for another long moment, “Well. Whatever you decide to do, and whatever happens, you know I’ve got your back.” 

“Are you trying to convince me that there is a literal waiting list of thousands that want to sass you, somehow I just don’t buy that Chateau Sass Ricky is so popular without any real social media presence.” Winston giggled in the grass. Despite everything, despite the conversation that they were having right now, Winston knew that Ricky really did have their back no matter what happened. That was why he was their bestfriend. They might have not known each other very well for very long, but everyday he spent living with Ricky was a day that Winston was happier. Usually. When the town wasn’t trying to kill them. “Yeah and that is exactly why I don’t want to say anything, because it’ll probably just end up being painful.” Sighing gently, Winston clutched Ricky’s hand. He probably didn’t realise just how comforting the physical touch actually was. “I know, thanks, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I know I always say that but it’s because it’s true.”

“I’ll have you know that I am pretty fucking sassable. I don’t like the inference here that I’m not fucking worthy of a waiting list of sass. That’s pretty fuckin rude and I”m not about it.” It was something akin to a perfect moment. The sun, the clouds, the smell of summer on the air, and his best friend in the grass next to him. A lot of things went crazy in White Crest on an alarmingly consistent basis; but somehow it seemed that with Winston next to him he could manage to get through it all, “But… you don’t know that. I know it’s easy to sort of flag up the worst possible outcome in your head but… you don’t know what Rio’s gonna say.” tilting his head slightly so he could look at Winston out of the corner of his eye he tried to give a smile that could be seen without too much movement, “It’s mutual my dude. I, in a completely platonic and not at all weird way that’ll complicate your life anymore than it already is, love you with my whole fuckin’ heart. As much as I love being back home in Rinn Mhaoile; my real home is here with you and Dee.” 

“I am sure you’re worthy of the sass, but 75% seems like a pretty liberal estimate, I don’t want your feelings to get hurt when your expectations aren’t met.” Winston squinted through their sunglasses at the sky and smiled. “Exactly, I do not have any idea what he is going to say and that in itself is an utterly terrifying prospect.” Winston gazed up at the sky for a while longer, watching the clouds idly drifting over head. “I know dude and of course I feel the same, I’m just glad that you’re back home, things aren’t the same when you are not here and sure we managed not to die at the hands of Squidward but it was hardly a good time.” 

“You’re being very rude. I’m here, on the ground, in the dirt, trying to soothe your broken heart, and you’re being so rude and mean to me. It’s hard out here for a seal.” He listened as Winston talked, just happy in the deepest parts of his soul to be sitting here with his brother. “The unknown always is. It reminds me though of a line from a book I listened to once. It always sticks with me because it’s such a good philosophy. If you cannot be unafraid. Be afraid and happy. You can’t change the fact that this terrifies you. You can only change what you do with your terror.” Listening to Winston talk about the squid demon that they vanquished in his absence Ricky was simultaneously glad he’d missed it, and sad Winston had had to face it without him. Raising their still-entwined hands Ricky pressed a quick brush of a kiss to Winston’s knuckles before hopping back to his feet and returning to work.  “Squidward is gone, praise tides and shoals for that, but the next thing that comes I’ll be at your side for it.” 

“Hey, my heart isn’t broken yet,” Winston said with a grumble, “it will inevitably be broken if this goes poorly, which knowing my luck it almost certainly will.” There was no way that Rio would look at Winston the same after what they’d done with Athena. “That guy clearly never lived with anxiety of any kind, what a joy his brain must have been, or hers, or theirs, you know what I mean though. It’s too idealistic.” Winston rolled onto their chest and pushed themselves off the ground following Ricky to his feet. “I didn’t do any of the real work anyway, but the next thing hopefully won’t come at us for several weeks if not months or years.” Winston grinned. They knew that was really unlikely.

#gardening time #wickedswriting #chatzy para #chatzy #para #p: ricky

[subarashiet]

lifes been weird and sad , got so much stuff i wanna say dont even know if thats the right subred to but here goes.i m 18 , from Greece , first year in Uni and life is not the way i want it to bei live on my own , rent is being paid by mom and her husband , month pocket money given by dad and by my part time jobat some point in high school i understood that our school years were our most carefree years , tho only now do i really understand itman this post is gonna cramp my fingers shouldve used the pcused to hang out a lot till 2nd year of high school then in 3rd year cause of me studying more i was hanging out less , used to have around 4groups of ppl to hang around then only one , cliche but i wasnt anyone special in school , gotta mention i went to a music middle-high school , only highlights i remember are in 2th-3rd grade trading blows with a girl (think she was 5th grade) ,3rd grade kissing a girl in her cheek then running away from the boy-horde coming after me , 4th grade trading blows with a 6th grader ,6th grade punching a guy for calling names my little sis (we good now see him out we talk he a nice dud) , 9th grade a girl i had a chance with but fucked it up big time , 9th grade breaking a cello almost getting expelled ,12th grade playing bass at a concert in Thessaloniki with a music group of my schooldidnt really have many close friends but there were some from school and other places you can call closer friends , but now even with them i ve started to fade away which i cannot bear but i m the type of giving up and not trying until i m lategot laboratory this morning and this is gonna take a while hope i can get some sleepfeels weird using reddit to express my thoughts i even find it a bit cringy talking to myself but oh welli wanted to visit a physiatrist because i ve been so mentally tired that i think i might have crippling sadness xD but i tried to arrange that back in July-August pre my 18th bday so she said a parent was required to be present so i just kept all the stuff to myselfi was learning classic guitar from 1st grade to 8th still play to this day , in music school i kinda learned h2p electric but didnt practice enough to be able to play good , also know some pianobeen listening to post rock and mostly fate music these past 10 monthssucker for good anime tho i ve been out of it lately havent even finished my summer ones , oregairu has a nice ending from what i got spoiled fromanyway thing is i am sad most of the time , i try not to show it cause i like the stereotype of being the strong guy that everyone can depend on and almost never see being emotional and also like the cool tempered guy type , tho lately i ve been craving a lot of attention that i drop the act of the calm n cool sometimesthings with my parents didnt go to well these past years , only now i can say that we ve finally kinda calmed down , mom and dad started falling out of it around 8th grade cause lots of fighting , big sis kindof took the role of mother while on her teen years , feels like she had it much worse than me10th grade sis leaves home to go elsewhere to start studies for uni , i m left with ma and lil sis back homethen i understand that i have to be there for my little sis which also got in my school that year (3kids-3years difference each) so i tried to assume the role of the big brother but she was closer to her older sister than me , i was closer to my older sister as well , feels like i was doing my lil sis wrong but i cpould relate more to big sis and could chat with her more about stufflil sis didnt open up to me a lot even to this day , she has been a lot more comfortable with me through the years i think cause she told me something important recently , kinda feelsbadman tho cause i wanted to be closer to her and i kinda tried but i think not hard enough cause she didnt seem to get any closer , cried once about it in front of my mother which was the absoluteliest worst cause i didnt want her to see me being fragile jesustho even now that i m not home i talk to her play some among us tried making her start xenoverse 2 that didnt go farhave some friends from school , we would only go all together at internet cafes , but mostly 4 of em would go out togetherin my school i had some friends from scouts tooi have an insta , used to post "cool" pics kinda stopped cause i like looking cool in front of others but i havent been in the mood to try in around a year nowused to be in some conservatory guitar groups with some other kids there , with one girl from there i used to be quite in touch until recently that i stopped seeing her for some reasons maybe i ll explain l8rwe had fun and i really mean it , we used to go on trips to play songs on different cities and stages , our group became kinda known the 2-3 good active years we were active , it still is but these years were the originals , now there are other peoplefucking christ its 2:27started playing in that group with the originals in 2017 till 2019 , we were kids from different ages going from 6th to 10th graders but i didnt understand the different in our ages until recently that i found one of the guys from the group in my cityanother closer friend is a guy from my school , met him in grade 7 still talk to him , used to sit together most of the years pretty neat guy , peculiar character but really interesting kind smart and hard workingman why couldnt my teen years be like shirou from fsn that would be awesomehad entrance exams 4-5 months ago , didnt really go as planned , shooted for Corfu didnt get in cause rather than 15 i got 10 in my last exam so i m still in my city , tho i live alone and go to my local uni insteadJuly 2019 i moved out of my old house moved in with ma and her husband with my sis , stayed there till september then till june-july 2020 i was living with my fathertbh i decided to write this post after watching a vid of Korone talking about Okayu thinking that i ve never been in an actual relationship and that i eould want to experience that but dont know where to start from , losing weight ? becoming outgoing again ? learn how to talk to girls ?i started watching anime back in 2015 on my 3ds i remember watching dubbed Inazuma Elevensince like 2 weeks ago i reached 201 anime completedok i ll stop here for tonight cause i got online uni classes tmrw i keep stimestamps for whenever i finally post this -Tuesday 3/11/2020 02:41used to be around 85-90kg in 12th grade , put on around 20-28 kilos since March 2020 , managed to lose 8-10 kilos in the summer but i m still around 30kilos up from the normal amount based on my height , got a subscription to a gym jan2019 but only managed to get into it for a short period on spring 2019 then autumn 2019 then lost motivation and let go , since March2020 i ve been doing some weights at home , tho when i look at myself in the mirror it doesnt really change how bad i feel about my body , i think my old motivation used to be a girl i used to have a crush on but not surethings with my parents werent all that great and i was mentally better when i would talk with them , they are openminded af and supportive too but puberty makes you see stuff differently like everyone is against you like the world is against you (last one might be true dunno yet) , living on my own now seems to be a bit better but as our Greek ancestors used to say theres no good without bad and the bad in this scenario is that its lonely as fuck , having lived for 18 years with my family it really hits a weird spot , everything feels lonelier now with the virus spreading around not being able to see others as much as we used to , uni doesnt feel nice , many people dont pay attention and its like the second half of 12th grade all over againgot my monthly money 4days ago , went from 200 to 9.28 quickly , when i have money i spend when i dont i m stingy , mostly like to build computers , watch lots of Linus , Paul , Kyle , Jay etc. most of my money goes to buying stuff about computers food , used to give lots of money to internet cafes when i used to hang out with the guys from school , not anymorewith the start of uni we all met new friends even i but i still feel like i am drifting apart day by day , stopped talking to my old girl friend cause i was kinda done with her attitude , called me some names i didnt appreciate because i put up with her attitude , most of the time in her own world , only would really pay attention and try to change herself when it was something she cared about , one of them wasnt her character , but to give the goods of her she was a good friend dont know if i can say she still is a friend or just someone i know , she helped me even with the girl i had a crush on , was really fun on trips with the guitar group , all in all a fun person , thing is i stopped texting her and telling her to go out cause it was 80% me trying and the other 20% her and i think that proved right when i stopped talking to her cause i thought she will see that i m not talking to her she ll think somethings wrong she ll message me to go out and have fun , send me a happy bday message posted some pics of me , didnt send me anything else after , stopped talking to her around the start of October , if i hadnt asked her something about her uni and if it wasnt my bday i dont think we wouldve talked in all of october . last saturday i was working in the area she lives in my city decided to call her sometimes didnt answer tried to suprise her and see how she is by going to her house , noone answered maybe they were on a trip idk , but it feels weird man , in the first half of the year me and a common friend of her and me went out one night , ended up being the bad guy to make her understand that she did something wrong that night , after she left i was left with our common friend talked about stuff and mostly her and i expressed myself , i knew that coming summer me and her would end up at different places so i wanted to tell her all the wrongs with her so that she could finally understand what i ve been putting up against and make her understand that she HAS to pay attention to people around her and that she will meet new people and that she ll have to be careful about her character , used to have a bit of crush on her back in 7th grade , can kinda understand why that went . On the other hand i didnt want to part ways with her with our last words being me ranting , one thing brought the other and she wont be going to her uni's city until early 2021 so i managed to go out with her some more in the summer and september . kinda feels bad to see that almost noone remembered my bday cause i remember in cram school when someone had their bday they would get a fucking cake , dont mistake me i got one , from my ma my two sisters and my moms husband , thing is i wanted to have something happen with friends , nothing happend , around 4 people remembered my bday and the others just send me some happy bday messages after seeing posts from the girl i m talking about .also heres a good song to listen to while reading stuff on reddit Sorrow from FSN by MN64 cant post links from what i understandgonna stop here for now might edit later -Tuesday 3/11/2020 15:15thing is reddit is not the right place to get help and i need a friend but it seems i cant get any from my friends , even my other friend the guy i used to sit with in all middle-high school he has drifted apart , talking more with other of his friends doing other stuff etc , that one time i needed to talk to him he said i ll call you in a while , waitied 1 and a half hour then asked him why he didnt call he said he forgot (i think) , feelsbadmananyway i dont think i m gonna keep editing this i ranted enough , gonna leave the post up for a day or so in case anyone wants to add anything then taking it down -Tuesday 3/11/2020 23:58

#personal rant #confession

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (6)

Awkwardness, advice, and even more awkwardness. (The word awkward now doesn’t even sound real. You’re welcome for this awkward description.)

---

“Quinn, do you know when that essay for history is due?” Marinette walked into class with Nanette and Quinn.

“Um,” They checked their arms, “Thursday?”

“You need to get a planner or something.” Marinette sighed.

“I’ve been barking up that tree for three years.” Nanette rolled her eyes.

“I have a system.” Quinn scoffed.

“Writing everything on your arms is not a productive system.” Marinette argued.

“Says you!”

“Quinn, darling, as someone who meticulously keeps an organized and color coded planner/calendar in my room this ‘system’ of yours gives me anxiety. For all that is sweet and holy, buy an actual planner. Download an app on your phone. Something!” Marinette begged.

Marinette really liked Quinn, they were smart and fun and had an encyclopedic knowledge on everything having to do with conspiracy theories and cryptids. Marinette hadn’t even heard of the giant snail like creature, Lou Carcolh, until they mentioned it once while hanging out at Marinette’s house. Like them as much as she did, their organization was zero. She’s seen their locker, their bookbag, she could only imagine the neat-freak meltdown she’d experience if she ever set foot in Quinn’s room.

“Nah, this is easier.” Quinn shrugged as they took their seat.

“Quinn...no…”

“Good morning,” Kagami approached their table. Ever since Marinette had talked to her that first day the two were getting along better. Kagami was even starting to branch out more to her classmates. “Did you all have a nice weekend?”

“Morning, Kagami,” Nanette smiled back at her, “I had a great weekend. I even got to meet Marinette’s boyfriend, Adrien.”

Kagami’s pleasant expression faltered and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

“Nani,” Marinette pinched Nanette’s arm forcefully, “I told you he’s not my boyfriend.”

“The way he was looking at you though and how much you talk about him--”

“Shh!” Marinette clamped a hand over her mouth, “We are just friends. He doesn’t see me that way at all.”

Kagami muttered something under her breath that Marinette didn’t catch. Probably cursing the fact that Marinette liked Adrien too. Every time Adrien got brought up, in even the tiniest of moments, things between Kagami and Marinette soured. An unspoken rivalry for the blonde’s affections tensing the air without saying a word.

Class started and Marinette went back to her seat. She risked a glance at Kagami and sighed. She really was a nice girl when you get past her hard outer shell. They even seemed to have quite a lot in common when they got right down to it. A little too much in one case. And that is what drove them apart every time.

Adrien.

A crush on a boy isn’t what should split what would otherwise be a pair of close friends, should it?

“Alright students,” Mr. Babineaux started handing out papers, “To finish out our study of Utopia, we are going to be doing a pairs project. You and your partner will create your own utopian island. You have complete creative control but there are a few points that everyone must hit. 1: Draw a map of your utopia. 2: List the laws and regulations of your utopia. Lastly, write a small essay on the values the indigenious people of your island hold and why, minimum two pages. If you want to add other things like culture, holidays, or what have you then that is more than welcome. You have the rest of class to find your partner and start your project. This will be due next Wednesday where you will present your utopia to the class. Have at it.”

Immediately everyone started pairing off. Marinette stretched her head to look at Nanette and Quinn but they were already huddled together making rough sketches of their island. Looking around the only available person seemed to be Kagami.

“So…” Marinette smiled at her, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, “Want to be partners?”

“That sounds nice.” Kagami stated matter of factly.

Oh boy.

They started by outlining the core laws their island would function under and then moved onto what the punishment for breaking the laws may entail. Kagami seemed to have a much harsher form of punishment then Marinette had in mind. Marinette was able to talk her down out of anything lethal. Although she may have let slide the liars have their tongues cut out rule for reasons…

The bell rang and everyone started packing up for their next class.

“I was thinking, I don’t know what your schedule is like but maybe we can figure out a day to get together and keep working on the project. I’m not too worried about the map but I think we would need more time than class allows to hash out the culture and values of our island.” Marinette explained as she and Kagami packed their things.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free. With tournament season coming up my mother has arranged for me to spend more time practicing my fencing.” Kagami said, “I’ll probably barely see anyone outside of Mr. D’Argencourt, mother, and Adrien.”

And there was the tension again.

“Right, you have my number so you just let me know. We’ll figure something out.” Marinette smiled through the awkwardness.

After school let out Marinette opened her phone and pulled up her contacts. She wanted to talk to someone about this whole Kagami and Adrien situation. Nanette and Quinn are great but they don’t have the whole story and Marinette was not in the mood to explain everything. She sure as heck couldn’t talk to Adrien about it. Aurore didn’t really know Kagami. Wayhem can’t keep a secret to save his life. Chloe was a hard no for many reasons and not just because she went AWOL.

She stared for a long minute at Alya’s name. She would understand what Marinette was going through. At the very least she’d be able to give her some advice.

Marinette put her phone away with a sigh. “Why such a long face?” Tikki whispered, popping her little head out of Marinette’s purse.

“I want to be friends with Kagami cause she’s really nice and we can get along but every time Adrien gets mentioned things go south. We don’t say anything but I can feel it. It’s like there is a string between Kagami and I that frays a little more when Adrien is mentioned. I want to say something but I feel like doing so would just make things worse. What if I say something wrong and we end up arguing? I don’t want to fight what could be a good friend over a love triangle.”

“I feel like not saying anything could do more harm then ignoring it altogether.”

“I know but what if--”

A loud crash from down the road halted Marinette’s reply. A dozen or so people were running away as more crashes crept closer to where she was. An akuma no doubt.

Marinette ducked into an alleyway. This Kagami situation would have to wait. “Tikki, transform me!”

Marinette lunged onto the roof of the nearest building and searched for the source of the destruction.

“BAH!” A giant baby waddled around the corner, “BAH!”

“Seriously? Hawkmoth akumatized August again?” She sighed. At least she knew how to deal with this akuma already. Not as easy as taking down Mr. Pigeon but at least she didn’t have to worry about Chat’s allergies.

“I’m guessing someone’s pretty cranky about being woken up from their nap.”

Speak of the devil.

“Hey Chat Noir,” Marinette greeted her partner, “It’s been a while.”

“Too long, my lady,” he grinned back at her, “While I did enjoy the break from akumas I did miss our moments together.”

“Which ones? Where I throw you at akumas or when you leap into the line of fire yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s just get junior here pacified before dinner. I think giant babies would take a lot more than a bottle to keep them happy.”

“True.”

Marinette scanned over the akuma. What was his problem today? He wasn’t chewing on anything so it wasn’t teething. He was rubbing his eyes a lot. Maybe he really was grumpy from waking up or just too tired to realize that sleeping would rid him of his grumpy mood.

“We need to get him to fall asleep.” She told Chat Noir, “Help me lure him somewhere with room enough to lay down. I have an idea.”

“On it.” Chat Noir jumped closer, “Hey! Over here! Wanna play with a kitty? Gotta catch me first!”

The pair went running as a sleepy August waddled after them.

Marinette knew that she should focus on the akuma but her thoughts about Kagami wouldn’t leave her be. “Chat, can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he shrugged as they ran, “Finally gonna ask me on a date?”

“Not so lucky, minou,” she rolled her eyes, “You see, there’s this person I’ve started making friends with but she likes the same guy as me. I still want to be friends with her but the topic always brings up a cloud of awkwardness because of this boy. Any advice?”

“I have two options.”

“What’s the first one?”

“Talk to her. If the both of you want to be friends but this subject of a shared crush makes things uncomfortable then you need to address it. You don’t have to bow out of your crush so the other isn’t awkward but keep pursuing this mystery boy without letting it harm your friendship. If you truly are on good terms then a little rivalry is fine as long as you don’t delve into underhanded tactics like sabotage.”

“And what was option two?”

“Ditch mystery boy and go out to the movies with me?” he asked with a hopeful but joking smile.

“I think I’ll stick with option one. Thanks though.”

They got to the football field arena and circled around August. He wouldn’t cause anymore damage here.

“What’s the plan?” Chat Noir asked.

“We got him here, now we need to get him to sleep. Let me see what I got,” She thrust her yo-yo into the sky, “Lucky Charm!”

A CD dropped into her hands.

“A track of lullabies? Helpful.” Chat Noir shrugged.

“But not enough. No. We need back up.” Marinette sighed. “Someone who can cast a calming illusion.”

“Rena Rouge?”

“Yup,” Marinette grasped her yo-yo tighter, “I’ll be right back. You keep August entertained.”

She sped as fast as she could to Master Fu’s. He was unperturbed by her sudden appearance as was the case nowadays. “Marinette, in need of an ally today?”

“Yes, I need the Fox Miraculous.” She took the necklace out of the box.

“Is something the matter, Marinette?” Fu asked.

“Sorta, I know who I should give it to but I don’t want to. But I also could use someone who already know what to do.” she contemplated briefly giving the necklace to Chloe but with her under the radar dealings of late she wasn’t sure where to even find her. That really only left one option.

“Grudges are only a form of self-punishment. Remember that, Marinette.” Fu told her, “Do not let your emotions stand in the way of the common good.”

“You’re right.” She looked to Tikki to make sure she was recharged, “Let’s get going. I don’t know how much longer Chat can keep a giant toddler in one place.”

After transforming back into Ladybug, Marinette sped as fast as she could to Alya’s house. She hesitated at the window before shaking the contempt from her mind. Ladybug isn’t mad at Rena Rouge.

She knocked on the window startling Alya off her bed. Quickly she ran to the door and thrust it open. “Ladybug? What’s up?”

Marinette held out the box with necklace. “I need Rena Rouge for a quick mission.”

“Oh, right,” Alya took the box but didn’t open it.

“Problem?”

“No, I just…” She looked back at her bed where her laptop sat with what looked like fifteen or more tabs opened, “I was doing some research. But duty calls!”

She transformed into Rena and the pair went vaulting back across the rooftops to the arena. Chat unfortunately had been caught by August and was turning a sickly green shade from being waved around in the toddler’s hand.

“Cast an illusion of a giant mobile to help him fall asleep. I have some tunes to put on.” Marinette ran towards the commentator box and popped the CD into the arena stereo system. A minute later a giant mobile appeared over the field spinning plush ladybugs, black cats, foxes and turtles on strings.

August stopped playing with Chat Noir and focused on the mobile. Combined with the soothing music he was yawning and soon curled up on the grass for a nap. Chat wiggled his arm free and cataclysmed the bracelet where the akuma was. After that Marinette went out to catch it and thrust the CD into the sky to right all the damage August had caused this time.

The sleeping toddler was taken back to his mother by Chat while Marinette collected the necklace from Alya. “Thanks for letting me help out today.” she said.

“We needed you.”

“I’m sure you could have figured something out without me. Truth be told, I haven’t felt very heroic lately.” Alya twiddled her thumbs. The beeping of Marinette’s earrings told her she needed to get out of there fast.

“Wait!” Alya stopped her, “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m kinda in a hurry--”

“Are you friends with a girl named Lila Rossi?”

The question took her aback. “No. Outside of when she was akumatized and a less than flattering confrontation when she tried to use me as a pick-up line I have never interacted with her. Why?”

“Nothing...research...it’s not important. See you later, Ladybug.” Alya ran from the arena to return home.

Marinette’s transformation wore off and Tikki landed on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Seeing Alya again must have been strange.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Marinette reached into her bag and pulled out another cookie for her kwami. “Let’s head home after we return the Miraculous. I’m too emotionally worn out to contemplate further human interaction.”

The walk home Marinette checked her messages. She had a text from Kagami telling her what times she could work on their project. They set a meeting time for Friday after school to work. With Chat’s advice still ringing in her ears Marinette made a mental note to talk to Kagami so they could get on the same page about their feelings regarding Adrien. Not today though. The rest of today was going to be fruit tarts and video game therapy.

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (7)

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #salt fic #writing #ocs #transfer au #alya cesaire #chat noir #rena rouge #ladybug