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isekaithatplease · 2 years

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The Classism, Sexism, and Mishandling of Slavery theme of the Remarried Empress ((pt 1. of why I might divorce the remarried empress series)) WARNING: SOME SPOILERS INSIDE

Note: this story/review was written by someone from the western hemisphere, so yes I am well aware that cultural differences is most likely a definite factor in this. However, this is my opinion on how this series kinda rubs me the wrong way. I will admit that I am behind on the series, and some of the info I got was from spoilers so it might be outdated, as I stopped at episode 85 on webtoons, and read some spoilers, if this is the case, I am prepared to address what I’ve said in a new post ( a reblog of this) to make things more fair.

Ok so I’m gonna do a super quick introduction because anyone, who’s anybody knows the basic premise of one of, if not the most popular manhwas next to WMMAP. It’s a manhwa that essentially has dominated on webtoon, ruled on insta and I think is even set to have it’s own movie/kdrama eventually come out.

Yours truly, was a fan of this series, especially when I got caught up in the tales of hype, and complexity of the story/spoilers, and the beauty of the novel. Like I genuinely liked this series, as the premise was easy to follow, it almost seemed like it was written from a sympathetic villainess’s pov and it just made me a fan, until I wasn’t.

The tales of Navier being an awesome strong female lead in the face of walking dung and his mistress Rashta (affectionately known by fans as Trashta- which hold on I will address that in this) was pretty good at first, until I sat down and actually thought about this series. Now I know you’ll say- hey, hey, hey, this is a manhwa (technically not isekai) why are you actually putting deep thought into this? And I’ll say, well, I have this rule when it comes to fiction.

I (the reader) will only take a series as serious, as the series takes itself. So to elaborate, this means I’m not going to sit down and waste time telling you how certain series does things on a broader or more indepth scale if it’s clearly here for a good time. No, this means that if a story wants me to take it seriously, then, um yeah I am going to do so.

Now, coming back to this series, I’m going to get straight to the point, that might upset some people, because I know there’s probably a lot of cultural differences between the writer of this story, and readers who are located on the western hemisphere, like me.

But- with all due respect.

Something about this story does NOT sit right with my spirit,

and it’s mainly the classist narration/the dealing with slavery, with pinches of sexism here and there, but let’s start with the classism.

This story feels like it’s essentially punching DOWN, like it’s telling the lower class to know it’s place, some were born to rule, others merely to serve/follow orders, and punishing the one person, Rashta, who albeit unethically and under bad circumstances, tries to create a better life for herself by somewhat breaking the social norms by climbing up, terribly. I’m not justifying what Rashta has done, nor am I condoning it, but the complete lack of empathy in the narration of a story that is praised for being complex is....well....disturbing.

In fact, if I have to be honest with you, I feel nothing but apathy vibes from the tone/way this story was written. There’s a distinct lack of empathy when it comes to the suffering of others, particularly women not named NAVIER, that I think needs to be discussed more, especially when people want to push this series as something that promotes a strong fl, because I think it pushes a strong/independent fl at the expense of some other female characters (don’t believe me- just look at how the fandom so readily vilifies a female character who gets in Navier’s way,).

Guys like Sovieshu and Heinrey are allowed to have explicitly outlined sympathetic aspects to them, whereas the women’s pov is far more subtle, before they inevitably end up doing something terrible (I’m talking about Rashta and Heinrey’s sister in law). All do terrible things, but I feel more inclined to say that the women who become antagonists in this story are more victims than the guys who willingly perpretate the acts, yet aren’t allowed the same leeway/understanding from the narrative. Get the picture?

Let’s start with the topic of cultural differences, now shall we?

PT 1. The Slavery Discussion and Rashta:

Slavery is no stranger to being apart of isekai, in a lot of stories it’s either added as a footnote to help worldbuilding in a fairly negative way, or it acts as some sort of trauma for the mcs to portray them in a more sympathetic light. But in this story, it’s handled so...strangely. Slavery is very much traumatizing, no matter in which media it is presented, or the purpose/form. The after effects/trauma of slavery is massively understated, and I for one think it should be treated with respect when it comes to playing a major role in a story like this.

The fact that Rashta was a slave who was abused and mistreated is seemingly glossed over a LOT- it is most likely the reason why she is, the way she is. She’s so naïve/willing to go along with Sovieshu’s schemes because she spent her entire life up to that point being treated worse than dirt, and now has to deal with living in constant fear of having to return to that life. She probably doesn’t genuinely know any better, as no one was there to teach her right and wrong, or guide her. That cycle of trauma and abuse is so hard to break, and probably even impossible, given the settings/position she’s in.

So she’s unable to protect herself from the schemes of those who’ve been born into the game of politics and power and are coming for her blood in order to exploit her, yet the story tries to play it off as...making her kind of selfish, and evil.

It’s almost like writing Cinderella or maybe just any slave girl (a girl who spent her life as a slave up until she got married) as some sort of pawn, without any sort of empathy/sympathy for the character from the narrative...could you imagine how heartbreaking that would be? This is pure exploitation, yet it never feels like it’s called out in a long-lasting/meaningful way for you to sympathize with Rashta, or offer the character any sort of leeway/complexity (save for the end when she’s about to be executed but even then it’s too little too late) nah it feels almost like the story is telling you that this is what Rashta deserves, she’s just another cog in the wheel for the haves to use.

I’m not saying that Rashta is completely innocent in all of this, because yes I will admit, that Rashta is a terrible person, who’s done bad things (albeit some under the bad influence of Heinrey’s friend, and others was just because of her, she’s really not a good person, at ALL)- BUT, she’s ruining others because her life was ruined, it’s probably her way of punching UP, of securing herself in a society that clearly does not want the poor to advance/better themselves. Which as bad as it sounds, isn’t completely inexcusable, given how cutthroat the story likes to play it’s politics as. ((Like look at Navier and how she’s always thinking politically, you could probably try to sell her girl scout cookies, and she’d suspect you of espionage or something))

Even in this elevated position, we see that Sovieshu doesn’t even see Rashta as a person of her own, she’s just...a plaything to him, something he’s using because he feels like Navier isn’t giving him the love he deserves. ((I’ll touch on Navier next part)). The Rashta around him depicts herself as stupid, cute and playful, because she knows that’s what he wants her to be, and there’s high possibility that the moment that he finds out that she’s not that (she’s actually a lot smarter than he thinks), he could very easily dispose of her. That brings me to the worst part of their whole relationship which a lot of fans, and Navier herself seems to miss- the unequal power dynamic-

The worst part is that he disposes of her, at the end, when it really should’ve been his head on a pike, but alas, she dies and the story doesn’t care because at this point it’s almost like it’s done more to explicitly tell you how terrible she is, than to make you somewhat sympathize with her. ((Keep in mind I’m not saying Navier had to accept Rashta with open arms from day 1, but Navier should’ve 1000% been suspecting foul play in more places than she did. I mean someone who was at most a mistress (coming from slavery, where she was uneducated) was pulling all of these political power moves like Rastha was, should’ve raised some flags for Navier, but eh, whatever I guess. Sovieshu doesn’t really seem to get the punishment he deserves.

Let’s not forget that Rashta can’t exactly say no to Sovieshu’s advances (dude’s the emperor who could have her beheaded for breathing out of her mouth wrong) and like I said before, is literally being manipulated by Heinrey’s friend. It’s sad because I know this story will probably gloss over it (I kinda know the spoilers where he ends up taking away her kids in the end after she’s executed, which is kinda good because at least her children aren’t orphans, but once again it’s just exploitation. Exploitation of a naive women by powerful men- seeing the theme here? Sovieshu uses her against Naiver, and Heinrey’s friend uses her against them both...almost feels like her main purpose is just to be a tool for others (most noticeably MEN) while having no agency of her own...))

You can say that maybe I’m overreacting about this, but like I said before the story likes to take it’s politics/characterization seriously, and I have no doubt that if Navier was a slave- we’d be exploring every traumatic aspect/long term effect of slavery. Everything Navier would be doing would be constantly sympathized with, because the story would recognize that she was a slave, and the cycle of abuse/trauma she’s faced it’s hard to break. Yet the story continually lacks that empathy for most of the female characters, in fact, the story seemingly gets a kick out of pitting women AGAINST each other. Because at the very least the fans do (I need to talk about Heinrey’s sister-in-law, remind me to talk about her for the next part).

You can argue well it’s just the times, so strong women really shouldn’t be working together, but then I’d say- um, no. If this story wants me to suspend enough belief that magic exists, Navier feels no remorse about breaking social standards (and being able to get away with it too) while being the main ruling force of the empire behind the scenes, with some fairly outspoken female characters- then I could totally buy the strong women working together, even in unconvential means. In fact, it’s kinda frustrating that Rashta spends the whole story getting manipulated by powerful men for their own means and she never wakes up/develops from it. Hmmm, that’s kinda...suspicious to me...

Honestly-

The fact that magic exists in this world, but Slavery is still around is just....wow, sure it’s a form to punish you for not paying off debts- but I fail to see how that works, when Rashta’s debt ridden father was able to get away from it by selling off someone else, it’s a blatant loophole that even the poorest of the poor can escape, with little consequence. What’s the point of having that system if it apparently doesn’t even work right? I think it’s almost too severe, and stupid given how many loopholes the story glosses over.

Maybe Navier isn’t that kind of an empress, why exactly has she never pushed for the elimination of slavery/increase of human rights? We know that she’s the one who’s wearing the real political pants in her empire, and the administration seems to be fine with this, as we never hear them complain. Also we’ve seen her gladly sponsor someone from the magic school, which was, a fairly expensive school, and I think the girl was from a fairly good background, unless I’m mistaken, maybe she was poor, but she had to be exceptionally good to get it. ((I’m choking on the classism here)). So it’s not like she’s going out of her way to benefit the massive underprivileged class of her empire, I kinda wonder if she knows they exist (save for the time they kind of rightfully grill her for running off to go marry the prince of the enemy empire, which sure she had her reasons for it, but I doubt the peasants would know/care about the full story, not when they have slavery and God knows what else dark ages problems to deal with).

Navier’s face when she hears the lower class cry for food. They should’ve thought about that before they became peasants!

You could also argue that this slavery isn’t exactly similar to the form of slavery in the west (which I would answer that there were other forms of slavery before the one that notoriously evolved in the western hemisphere, that were still socially degrading)- but once again, like I’m saying, if you’re going to base something off of a thing that has had traumatic/degrading long term effects socially, you should treat it with respect or don’t write it at all. I feel like there was either a blatant lack of research, or care when it was written into Rashta, which honestly would’ve been ‘fine’, if the story didn’t really try to antagonize a traumatized character while it later on tried to paint the narcissistic sexist Soviedung as complex, or sympathetic. Heck, I’m pretty sure the story is going to try to make Heinrey somewhat complex/sympathetic for trying to sabotage the empire while Navier was trying to run it! Yet Rashta doesn’t get a pass until it’s too late....

It’s like the story hates the underprivileged, which, is actually kinda funny to me.

If a westerner had tried to write something like this, it would be rightfully called out. So I’m not making any full exceptions here. You can argue that yeah cultural difference here is one thing, and I’ll say, alright, fine, fair. But then I’ll say, doesn’t it seem sexist to you that at the end the female character is seemingly more villainified/suffers more than the male character (who keep in mind is the main perpetrator) yet the story never seems self aware to call this out? So at best it’s probably just innocent ignorance, and at worst it’s just kinda sexist.

Protecting the women who you’ve been low key politically sabotaging so you can take over her empire be like:

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that slavery shouldn’t/can’t be used in fiction, but the way how the series fails to empathize with an obviously traumatized person from slavery but painting her the way it does, is just....wrong...

ESPECIALLY because the story literally tries to become a contortionist in order to make Sovieshu more sympathetic the last second. Why does Sovieshu get to have something of a redemption arc/sympathy when Rashta doesn’t??? It’s giving me classist, and low key sexist.

#remarried empress #navier #heinrey #sovieshu #rashta

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cyantomatos · 2 years

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Even Stars Will Fall - Ch 2

Pairing: Eventual Oberyn Martell x fem!Reader x Ellaria Sand Word Count: ~2.6k Warnings: None really, reader gets some bad vibes about people, mentions of pregnancy. Notes: No it hasn’t been 8 months since I posted the first chapter, I don’t know what you’re talking about Seriously though, I am genuinely sorry to those that were excited about the first chapter and wanted more. The last 6 months of 2021 kicked my ass, and while I was still putting out fics, it wasn’t nearly to the same capacity as the first half of the year. 2022 hasn’t started out much better, but I will be making an effort to update this more often, hopefully at least once a month. Just keep your expectations low 😅 Also we’re already off track on my outline, so that’s definitely a good sign.

Please make sure you read the notes on the first chapter! This is a reader insert, but it might not stay that way.

Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Your first clue that maybe everything hadn’t been a dream was the sounds of the ocean.

They were faint, the sounds of waves crashing on a sandy shore fading in and out like they were still pretty far away, but living in the middle of a city meant you didn’t hear those sounds normally. You wasted quite a while trying to decipher the noise, and while you did other senses trickled in.

The sun was still warm on your skin, the smell of orange blossoms still swirled around you, but now the scent was mixed with clean linen and something spicy you couldn’t quite place. There were soft sheets under you, and when you finally pried your eyes open an elaborately embroidered canopy spread out above you.

Blinking groggily, your eyes slowly slid around the room, taking in the gilded furniture and expensive fabrics, all of it bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun streaming in through the open windows.

“Ah, our mystery maiden awakes.” The same honeyed voice from before sounds from your right, and you look to see the man from before, this time an amused expression on his handsome face.

“Where am I?” Your voice is hoarse, like it hasn’t been used in weeks.

“Sunspear, in Dorne. The more important question, I think, is how you came to be here.” The amusement slips slightly as he speaks, giving way to confusion, and you think a little suspicion.

“I don’t...know?” You wince, knowing immediately that the answer wouldn’t satisfy this man.

“You don’t know. You have no idea how you came to suddenly appear in my gardens, right in front of us, as if from thin air?” His mouth twists in amused skepticism, and you feel shame burn through you like it pains you to disappoint him.

“I really don’t. I was at home, and then I was here. I don’t know what happened.” You look down at your hands, remembering the feeling of the painting under your fingers as the voices swirled around in your mind, and wonder if the painting was responsible for your sudden trip.

Before he can respond the door opens, and the same woman from the garden earlier slips in. You catch the sound of children babbling on the other side before the heavy door is firmly shut, and her face breaks into an exasperated smile at the sight of you sitting up in bed.

��Oh good, you’re awake. Oberyn, I don’t know if the children are going to wait much longer, they’re desperate to meet the woman that fell from the sky.” You must look a little startled at her words because she laughs, a beautiful lilting sound, and comes to stand beside the man you assume to be Oberyn.

“You didn’t fall from the sky my dear, as far as we saw anyway, but you know children. I’m sure you’ll have three heads and claws for hands by the time they actually meet you.” She sets a tray on the table beside the bed before letting one of her hands rest softly on Oberyn’s shoulder. Her other hand comes to rest on her slightly swollen belly, and you realize she must be at least a few months pregnant.

“She says she does not know how she came to be here.” The woman frowns down at Oberyn as he speaks and then back up at you. His gaze stays securely on you. You shrug, eyes drifting down to your lap, unable to meet both of their stares.

“Well, that is certainly...interesting.” You hear the confusion in her voice and know that you’re working on borrowed time. If this isn’t a dream, and you’re starting to suspect it isn’t because it’s incredibly realistic if it is, these people aren’t going to be content with your explanation for long.

Oberyn makes a sound of agreement, and when you lift your head to look at him he’s staring at you with an unreadable expression. “I am sure Doran will be happy to hear we know no more than when we discovered her. He is already...less than thrilled with my decision to keep her here and not under armed guard.”

You try not to let your alarm show on your face at that. The woman just hums in response, a worried expression on her own beautiful face. “Well, he wants to meet her. As soon as possible, he said.”

That worries you even more. You don’t know who they’re talking about, but he’s clearly someone important based on how they talk about him.

“Um...who is Doran?” Oberyn smiles at that, albeit somewhat grimly, and stands.

“Prince Doran is the head of House Martell, ruling Prince of Dorne,” He leans towards Ellaria, pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning towards the door. “And my brother.”

This definitely wasn’t a dream.

Oberyn left you with the woman - Ellaria as you learned - while she helped you dress. It confused you slightly that he was willing to leave you alone with a pregnant woman that he obviously cared for, but something about the easy grace the other woman moved with told you that even pregnant Ellaria wouldn’t go down easily.

Not that you would be able to take her down anyway, nor did you want to. You were confused, and scared, and just trying to figure out where you were and what was going on. The last thing on your mind was harming the woman that so far seemed to be on your side.

It had to be the painting, right? You thought back to the seconds before you touched it, to the way it felt like you had no control over your own body. It was like the painting had drawn you in and put some sort of spell over you, forcing you into the position it wanted. Was it cursed? You didn’t really believe in magic but...what other explanation was there? Unless you were suffering a spectacularly vivid mental break, the fact of the matter was you had lost control over your body and ended up in what seemed to be an entirely different world than your own.

You were shaken from your thoughts by Ellaria’s voice and turned to see her staring at you with a frown. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said you look presentable enough now, I suppose. I have no idea what you were wearing when we found you, but this is much better.”

You look down, twisting your hips to watch the gauzy skirt of the dress she had pulled you into swish around your ankles. It didn’t seem to fit right, pooling and tugging in all the wrong places, and when you said as much to Ellaria she just laughed.

“Yes, well, we don’t have dresses just sitting around for women that fall out of the sky. It’s one of mine, tailored to my measurements. When I am not pregnant, that is. This little one seems hell-bent on making sure none of my favorite dresses fit.” She smooths her hand over her rounded belly as she speaks, smiling ruefully.

Minutes later you’re being led down the hall, Ellaria by your side and Oberyn leading the way. You can’t help but gape at your surroundings as you’re led through the halls. It was clear that whoever lived here, House Martell you assumed based on what Oberyn said, was wealthy. It made sense if one of them was the prince of a whole country.

The scent of orange blossoms followed you down the hall, wafting in through open archways and windows draped in fluttering fabrics in rich jewel tones. The sound of the ocean became more prominent the further you walked, and you assumed you were being led to the side of what was very obviously a palace that sat closer to the ocean.

Oberyn led your little group out onto a patio, covered enough to provide respite from the sun without feeling like you were still inside. It sat on the edge of a lush garden, smaller than the one you had woken up in from what you remembered, and bordered on all sides by arches that led back into the palace.

“Well, I assume this is our mysterious visitor.” A voice from off to the side pulls you from your observations, and you turn to see a man slightly older than Oberyn lounging on a plush cushioned couch. He smiles as he stands, and it takes everything in you not to step closer to Ellaria. Outwardly, he seems harmless. He looks to be in his mid to late-thirties, with kind eyes framed by plenty of smile lines.

Something about him reminds you of a snake waiting to strike.

Oberyn steps forward, embracing the man before stepping aside. “This is indeed our mysterious visitor. And this-” He turns to you, holding out a hand towards his brother, “Is Prince Doran Nymeros Martell, head of House Martell, Lord of Sunspear. and ruling Prince of Dorne.”

Doran has the three of you sit, and you’re briefly distracted again by your surroundings. You’ve never seen such vibrant colors in a garden before, and even the air around you seems to shimmer with gold from the setting sun. You’re seated alone, with Doran across from you and Oberyn and Ellaria off to your right. You miss the comforting presence of the other woman already, and it startles you to realize how much you’re already relying on a stranger.

“Now, I think it wise to dispense with the pleasantries. Who are you, and how did you get here?” The kind smile is still on Doran’s face, but a feeling in the back of your mind reminds you not to underestimate him.

You give him your name and glance at Ellaria, and she gives you a soft smile and nod. “I don’t know how I got here. As I told Oberyn and Ellaria, I was in my apartment, and then I was here.”

Doran hums thoughtfully, smile sliding into a frown. “And that’s it? You have no idea how you might have gotten here?” The painting pops into your mind, but you hesitate. What if they think you’re insane? A painting teleporting you to a strange medieval-looking place - if they don’t think you’re insane, they’ll think you’re a witch.

The prince notices your hesitation, however, and sits forward. “You suspect something. Tell me.”

You glance at Ellaria again before answering, hoping to glean any bit of idea of how the interaction is going. “I…bought a painting. It was delivered today, and while I was trying to sleep I could…hear it calling to me.” You wince as the words leave your mouth, aware of how crazy they sound, but to your surprise, none of the others seem to react. “It felt like someone else was controlling my body, the only thing I could think about was touching it. I kept hearing these voices, like snippets of conversation, and when I touched the painting…I was here.”

For a moment there was silence, and you were sure they were about to start laughing. Instead, Ellaria speaks up from your right. “What was the painting of?”

You look down at your lap, twisting your fingers together with a half-smile. “You. You and Oberyn.”

“Do you remember what the voices were saying?” Oberyn asks.

“No, it sounded like the same people but they just kept overlapping, and there were other sounds too. I caught a couple of words, but that was it.” You look up to see Doran staring at you, hard enough it feels as if he can see straight to your soul.

After a moment he stands, kind smile plastered back onto his face. “I need to speak with my brother and his paramour. Would you be so kind as to wait back at the entrance to the garden? It will not take long.” The words are phrased as a question, but as you stand you know they are anything but.

You stand in the entrance to the garden, far enough away that you can barely make out their voices. Some words filter through on the breeze, though, and you strain to catch the rest of the conversation.

“...mysterious…what Morgaine thinks.” That sounds like Doran, and some amount of relief floods through you at the curious tone of his voice. Curious means he won’t kill you - yet.

“We can’t just…need to find out…” Ellaria’s voice floats in next, seemingly arguing on your behalf. You’re almost relieved again for the woman’s support when you hear something that chills you to the bone.

“...could she be from, we know noth…”

You’ve heard those words before.

Where have you heard those words before?

As you struggle to remember you feel pressure building in your head. The harder you reach, grasping and struggling to push through the webs in your mind, the more the pressure grows. It’s right there, you know it is, if you could just-

A voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“So you’re our mysterious visitor.” Annoyance lances through you at the words you’ve heard so many times since arriving, and you turn to see a man standing behind you. He’s tall, almost towering over you so you have to look up, and something about him immediately makes your skin crawl. Instinctively, you take a step back, and his smile widens.

“You needn’t worry about me, little bird. You are far too much of a mystery for me to harm you, and I suspect-” He glances up behind you, towards where the other three are talking, “that Doran feels the same. He will want to find out how you got here.”

Suddenly you feel a hand slip into yours, and you look up to see Ellaria standing next to you with a cool expression. “Rylen, I see you’ve met our guest. Dear, this is Rylen Martell, Oberyn’s cousin.”

Rylen gives a small bow, and you find yourself wanting to wipe the smirk off his face. Before you can speak, Oberyn appears on your other side, his expression even stonier than Ellaria’s. Rylen’s face somehow lights up and darkens at once at the sight of his cousin. “Ah! Cousin, I was just making the acquaintance of our new guest. Quite the mystery, she is. Everyone is eager to meet the woman that fell out of the sky.”

Oberyn smiles, and you’re reminded again of a coiled snake. Must be a family trait.

“I brought her to meet Doran. I think, though, we have somewhere else to be. If you will excuse us.” Oberyn bows his head slightly at his cousin, steering you away from the other man before he has a chance to respond. Ellaria stays tight to your other side, and you make a mental note to never be alone with Rylen if that’s the reaction he gets from them.

You walk in silence for a moment, until Oberyn seems to think you’re far enough away. “Well, our little mystery, after some debate it has been decided that you will stay in Sunspear, with us, until we can determine just how you came to be here.”

As he speaks you’re led through a door, into a large room. The sight takes your breath away, every inch covered in jeweled fabrics and ornate art. Two large, open windows looking out on the setting sun over the ocean frame an enormous bed, big enough to comfortably fit three or more people. “This is your room, for now. Ellaria and I are just down the hall.”

Ellaria smiles down at you, reaching to take your hand in hers. “Welcome to Sunspear, my dear.”

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#ESWF #Even Stars Will Fall #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader x ellaria #fem!reader #Ellaria Sand #Surprise!

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

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that fic where boatem finds their own corpses, 1 2 13 14?

i FELL ASLEEP MID ANSWERING THESE at least i fell asleep at a reasonable time. anyway. yes consequentialism... a fic i wrote in like, two days for halloween, but i'm still proud of anyway.

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

good question. this fic was two different endpoints. i'd been thinking about "boatem is an eldritch spooky entity" on and off basically since we started describing people as being sacrificed to it, and knew i'd want to write SOMETHING for that. so when i realized i could do a halloween oneshot i was like "i know EXACTLY where i'll put the horror". meanwhile i'd been workshopping a Thing with respawning leaving behind bodies that i ended up not writing, so that got integrated in as well.

2: What scene did you first put down?

the first one again! this is a fic i SUPER wrote as i went, i didn't really have any outline and i sort of wrote what felt right. so yeah. first scene was SUPER the...

It is after the third (or maybe the fourth) time that Scar falls into the Boatem Hole that Impulse finds the first body.

It's draped across the rocks behind Impulse's front door. He hasn't finished setting up the area in his factory he needs to build, so he'd gone out to the back to start working on the back walls, and it was there, sitting halfway in the water. At first Impulse calls Scar's name when he sees it, but then he stops, because there are holes wearing into the corpse that make it clear that, even if this were once Scar, it isn't now. It's an ex-Scar. A thing with its eyes picked out, or hollowed out, or something, because from the unnaturally grey face of the corpse there are empty eyes staring back at Impulse.

Distantly he thinks: isn't there some myth about animals eating the eyes out of bodies, or them decomposing first, or something? He never expected to find out if that myth was true, actually, and.

He screams.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

...I am having trouble remembering what, exactly, was my writing music at the moment. I think I may have listened to dark academia playlists on youtube? that may have been while i was doing that? but i feel like i remember i was listening to really incongruously cheerful music, so maybe i'd started listening to the album bittersweet by jamie paige. as for what music you should listen to while reading... hm, good question. something with vaguely calm vibes, i think.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

don't go sacrificing your friends to the void? more seriously this fic was a fun exercise in writing horror through the people involved getting used to things, getting less and less worried, while the audience gets more and more worried. a balance between some slightly gory shock stuff and, mostly, an attempt to inflict dread. hopefully that succeeded!

(send me a fic and some questions and i'll answer!)

#answered #ask game

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Note

please tell me everything about yanxiyao. i am invested. nay, i am obsessed. an ot3 made up entirely of people who Deserved Better and they are GETTING IT. i don’t care if it’s deep, agonizing 3AM thoughts that make me question how i think about life and love and the mortifying ordeal of being known or if it’s pointless fluffbits scrounged up from your daydreams. GIVE THEM TO ME

AHA, this delighted me, I’m so glad!! [rubs hands] Okay, you have unlocked the avalanche, stream of consciousness, here we go. Boy howdy this got long, so full rambling under the cut.

So I’ve already outlined how it starts with JGY, but you’ve probably seen that and I’m probably going to actually write a getting together fic at some point if the scenes start falling out of the sky into my head, so I’ll skip past that for the time being and start with the beginning of the triad. It begins in a most definite V with JGY as the hinge--Xichen and Yanli are very careful and considerate about each other’s time with him and try very hard not to overlap. Most things are separate--sex times, dates, meals (unless it’s everyone [siblings, et. al] eating together), sleepovers.

However, something happens. Perhaps JGY starts asking to spend a day with both of them, perhaps the greeting conversations when Xichen visits grow longer and warmer and bleed into sitting together over tea, laughing, and forgetting the days plans. Perhaps the way Xichen delights in holding their daughter and playing so very patiently with her begins to completely charm Yanli.

Perhaps it’s when Yanli and JGY leave the toddler with Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng to go for a nice leisurely trip together to Gusu but the weather turns and they have to stay in an inn in the middle of nowhere overnight and Yanli’s health takes a sharp dive all of a sudden and JGY sends a Jin butterfly to tell Xichen the situation and that they’re going to be late. And it’s only after he’s sent it that it comes to his attention that this rinky-dink village’s doctor actually lives in the next city over and is out of town for his daughter’s wedding or something idiotic and won’t be back for days--he has learned this after a slog through the rain to said doctor’s empty house in said next-city-over and then returned to demand of the innkeeper what exactly he’s playing at, sending him out like that when he knew the doctor wasn’t there. And he’s in the process of not strangling the innkeeper when the door bursts open and it’s Xichen, completely waterlogged and anxious and JGY is appalled that he’s just flown through a thunderstorm but secretly very, very relieved he is here.

And so they go upstairs and Yanli is incredibly happy to see both of them, especially since her fever has gotten worse and she is freezing. She wants snuggles and JGY reasons that they should both get in on it, because more body heat, y’know (he’s only trying to help, there are limited options, here) but he and Xichen both are completely soaked from traveling in the rain and they hesitate. Yanli is very much, ‘Oh noooo, the 2 hot men who need to snuggle me are covered in wet cloooothes?? Whatever shall we doooo?’ And the both of them are very seriously trying to tell her that Xichen will need to take off his robes if they’re going to be in bed together and is she okay with that and she’s like, ‘WhaAaaAaat? 😲 Holy cow, I guess I’ll suffer through :3c’ And they laugh and snuggle and sleep and the next few days is them taking care of her while she apologizes for getting sick and ruining the trip while they maintain that this is very nice, actually, minus her feeling terrible. They don’t actually visit Gusu and just end up spending time together in the inn while she recovers.

So, after that, Yanli and Xichen’s relationship becomes a lot more physically affectionate--they hug when they see each other, they kiss each other on the cheek, Yanli and JGY both snuggle up to his sides when they sit alone on the pavilion with the curtains drawn. The both of them have talked separately with JGY about whether this is okay, whether they’re overstepping any boundaries, and his response was basically an incredulous, ‘Are you joking? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’ And so the 3 of them spend more and more time together, and maybe there’s a night where they’re all in Xichen’s guest room at Lotus Pier, maybe having a few drinks, and they get onto the subject of how good of a kisser their A-Yao is and he protests saying that they’re biased because they haven’t kissed anyone else, so how could they know. And Xichen flushes and grins, “Aren’t you sly?” and JGY blinks innocently and says, “I don’t know what on earth you could mean 😇!” and Yanli is biting back a laugh and also a little pink but tilts her chin up invitingly and they do kiss and it’s lovely and JGY realizes exactly how much he enjoys that. And from then on, the Xichen’s guest room is more of a formality/decoy than anything else and their suite just so happens to get updated with a bigger bed because, y’know, reasons.

✨Vibes✨:

-WangXian matchmaking happens in earnest when YanXiYao first start their arrangement because now JGY has a concrete reason to find more excuses for more frequent visits from the Twin Jades

-Something about the 2 of them together makes it so that JGY can break down more easily--when it’s just Yanli, he still feels very protective and it’s hard to show his anger. When it’s just Xichen, he doesn’t want to cause him pain, and it’s hard to show when he’s hurting and despairing. When the three are together he is able to let them hold him more easily instead of withdrawing and isolating himself, and it frustrates him, but is also very good for him.

-Xichen and Yanli have a very intense and deep affection for each other that rides the fuzzy line of romantic and alterous; they enjoy cuddling, kissing, they definitely aren’t averse to having sex with each other but it usually happens when JGY is involved in some way, whether everyone participates or it’s a voyeuristic situation in whatever capacity (though this may be impacted by the fact that he doesn’t live with them and most days, Yanli is pleasantly lukewarm about sexual activity in general, so who’s to say it wouldn’t happen naturally, in time?)

-Xichen and Yanli have a relationship that has grown beyond just what they have with JGY and have a wonderful time talking together, giving each other gifts, and exchanging letters. There is a shared exasperation for JGY’s treatment of his health and often look to each other as back up (JGY is annoyed. They simply smile.) They don’t feel the need to really categorize their relationship besides the fact that they love each other, consider the other their best friend, are deeply fond of one another, and plan to all stay as they are for the rest of their lives. (Maybe, eventually, this will lead to a secret marriage ceremony, just for the 3 of them).

-It was after the inn/fever incident that she insisted Xichen call her A-Li

-All 3 have a devious streak and it makes for some very sweet 2 ganging up on 1 and showering them with kisses and affection.

-JGY and Yanli write him joint letters as well as individual ones of their own

-JGY and Yanli view Xichen as an equal status, commuter sort of parent and ask for his opinions and advice on parenting things. Xichen loves the kids like his own and gets to essentially have a kid without the complicated feelings of them being his heir and going through the Lan’s strict practices and corporal punishment. He takes them at Cloud Recesses for a few weeks every year.

-Each of the men have their own guilt attacks, now and again, Xichen about his involvement being selfish (Heirs! Propriety! His uncle!) and JGY over wanting too much (Infidelity! Reputation! A-Li!), and Yanli--who has done enough soul searching and has very comfortably decided that, no, she is quite fine being happy--calmly sits them down, gives them tea, kisses their foreheads, and makes them hold hands with her as they watch their kids play.

#yanxiyao #peony to lotus #my stuff #ahhh this was a nice little exploration 😊#surprisingly there isn't a ton of angst #I'm sure I could make some but this is just generally fluffy and nice!#ask #ask spam #Anonymous

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

ssw | sweetpea; wondering what his kiss feels like. | fluff.

NOTES:

Okay, so.. Apparently my brain likes to torment me. Because earlier, I was going to outline the next chapter for my Sweetpea x Andrews!OFC fic Gangsta and my brain threw out a casual, “But have you considered.. Using the Lodge!OFC you were planning to use with Reggie Mantle.. With Sweetpea?” and this kind of.. came.

So.. if enough people are interested, I may be considering actually writing them a fic or doing more of these little things based around them.. and trying to delve more into possibly pairing Alyssa with Reggie? Because when I wrote their oneshot I felt like there was potential there too... Also, this one shot is a direct result of me, watching dirty dancing reenactments on tik tok and my love for the movie + the fact that Riverdale does musicals every season...

Anyway, enjoy?

PROMPTS:

taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

the way he says your name / his fingers sliding between your own / wondering what your kiss feels like - these are the inspo prompts used for this oneshot.

FANDOM / CHARACTER

Riverdale / Sweetpea x Lodge!OFC, Marlena

OTHER WORKS SWEET PEA X MARLENA ARE USED IN

None BUT.. That could change, idk..

WARNINGS

Intense sexual tension. Arguing back and forth as a love language until someone snaps. Mutual crushes that turn into something more.. This one is absolutely safe for the kiddos aside from a few swears and the like.. Oh and one barely elaborated on incident of thigh riding / dirty dancing.

TAGGING

There’s absolutely no one on my Riverdale taglist. If you want to be on it, please let me know. Or add yourself to the link below.

OTHER STUFF

[ faq | sfw masterlist - safe for the kiddos but read with caution | tag list ]

“I swear to God, if she doesn’t give me more, I’m going to fall asleep. Is this really all we could find to participate in the musical for you guys?” My sister's question drew me out of a silent stare war with Sweetpea across the auditorium. He rolled his eyes and I stuck out my tongue at him before turning my attention back to my older sister, sighing as I glanced in the direction of the stage up front. “ She’s not that bad.. I mean at least she had the guts to try out for a part?” I mused quietly, shaking my head. Disappointed at myself because I hadn’t signed up.

Stage fright is one hell of a deterrent. And I knew that if I had tried out, no matter how well I knew the movie we were doing our musical adaptation of this year, when opening night came and those curtains opened and I saw all those people sitting out in the seats? I was going to freeze. I’d completely ruin the show. I didn’t want that.

The best I could do was at least offer to do costumes for Kevin. I told myself that behind the scenes was still helping and being supportive but deep down, ugh.. I wanted to do so much more.

If I were half as brave as my older sister Veronica is when it comes to this kind of stuff… Everyone has their fears though. Mine just happen to be public speaking in front of large audiences. My sister tells me constantly that it doesn’t make sense because I can go all over competing in dance stuff and there’s a crowd there, but.. When I’m dancing, I’m focused on footwork. On steps and the music and the way it makes me feel. I don’t have to speak.

This is also ironic when you take into consideration I am not a shy girl by any stretch of the imagination. I’m actually quite vocal. But when it involves speaking in public?

I freeze. I shut down and in turn, I wind up looking like an idiot.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice that Veronica had gotten up out of her seat and walked over, taking the seat right beside Kevin. They were whispering back and forth. I laughed softly because knowing my sister, she was probably telling Kevin that Leah needed to find a better attitude or Kevin needed to find a better person to play Baby Housemann.

Oh, if only I had one tenth of a clue.

My sister came back over, sinking down into the seat next to me. “Feel better now?” I asked her, barely hiding my amusement as I said it. She giggled and nodded. “Much better. I want you to remember how much you love me…” she muttered.

I raised a brow. “What’s that even mean?”

“Just wait.”

“What the hell did you do, Ronnie?”

“You’ll find out, Marlena. Just wait.” Veronica wouldn’t give me any more of an answer than that. Grumbling to myself, I settled back in my seat and tried to focus on the ongoing argument between Leah and Kevin from the stage.

Rolling my eyes at her audacity. Literally anyone could’ve done her part better and she had the nerve to demand Kevin to change everything to fit her? Refusing to work with him on anything? Putting down the script when it was the same one they used in the movie?

Just the thought of it had me shaking my head and muttering to myself about the entitlement and audacity. Veronica gave a soft laugh and leaned in, mocking the way she’d delivered her last line and the fact that she wanted pretty much all her dialogue changed and constantly needed reasons why her character did anything they did.

“Marlena! Hey, Marlena, where are you?” Kevin was calling my name. I looked up from the whispered conversation I’d been having with my older sister Veronica and raised my hand, waiting.

“C’mon. I want to try something. Leah’s just not cutting it for me as Baby.” Kevin called out to me as he gave Leah an irritated dirty look. Leah threw down her script and walked out of the auditorium in a huff. “This is a stupid idea for a musical anyway. Nothing’s gonna top what the seniors are doing. Good luck, jackass.”

Veronica gave me a nudge and with a soft laugh, she leaned in, smiling as she whispered into my ear, “You were born for this, Marlena. Dirty Dancing is your all time favorite movie.”

“Excuse me? I thought we both established it was Crybaby. Then Grease. Then Dirty Dancing.” I teased, standing in a hurry. My sister’s rebuttal to this was to point out with a soft laugh that I definitely had my own special vibe and type of guy. I poked out my tongue at her and turned away. Making my way towards the front of the auditorium where Kevin stood.

Once I was up there, Kevin pressed a copy of our class’s script into my hands. “Congratulations, you’ve been promoted from costumes.” he smirked at me. “I have a feeling about you and this part. As a director, I’m going to go with my gut.”

“But I didn’t sign up..” I shuffled my feet.

“ Yeah, well, the ones who did from your class obviously don’t care enough to bother showing up to practice or don’t care enough to give their best when they actually bother to come and we’re rehearsing.” Kevin shrugged. Taking his seat.

Alex, the guy who’d been cast as Johnny Castle, walked over. Wrinkling his nose at me as soon as he stood in front of me. Arms folded over his chest as he asked Kevin in a snobbish tone, “So we’re seriously just letting stage crew have parts now, Keller? Is that what this is? I thought you were going to help us make our musical better, not make it a massive failure.”

“Asshole.” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes as I stepped up to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. Giving him a piece of my mind because holy hell did his holier than thou attitude ever irritate me, “I’ll have you know, I probably know this movie line for line. I can probably do all the dances blindfolded, in a wheelchair. Who the hell do you think you are anyway? I saw you in Romeo and Juliet. I have never fallen asleep so fast in my entire life.” I smirked as I went quiet, rolling my eyes at him.

Alex chuckled and rolled his eyes right back at me, making the dismissive remark in response, “Did I ask you to speak? Did I address you directly? No. I didn’t. I was talking to the director. Don’t you have costumes to make or something? You’re holding up rehearsals.”

Out towards the back of the auditorium, I heard my sister cheering me on. Clapping and whistling. Telling me to give him hell and telling Alex he was awfully full of himself for someone who got a thumbs down by a New York theater critic over the summer.

I took a deep breath and glanced down at the script in my hands. Starting to read over it. Ignoring the argument between Kevin and Alex for the most part. Just trying to get myself in character while I waited.

Alex grumbled and stormed back over, standing near me. His posturing tense and a supremely annoyed look in his eyes as he gave me half a second’s glance. Kevin gave the cue to start and Alex read his line first.

“Look, spaghetti arms. This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You gotta hold the frame.”

Before I even got a chance to read off my line, Kevin was standing up. Making his way towards us. “You two are supposed to be dancing together. Marlena, you need to stand closer. Alex, you need to deliver the line in more of a teasing tone. Like you’re trying to taunt her. Playful. Not like you’re actually being an asshole. Like you’re flirting with her.”

“She’s not my type.” Alex rolled his eyes as he glanced at me. I glared up at him, a hand on my hip. Dangerously close to exploding all over again. I kept everything I’d been about to say to myself though, and with a deep breath, I listened as Kevin gave us both advice. Smirking to myself a little when he lit into Alex for being a drama queen.

After Kevin finished telling us what to fix, we prepared to try again. I stepped closer. Found myself glancing out in the crowd. My eyes settled on Sweetpea.

I found him watching the whole thing play out with an amused smirk. His arms folded over his chest. Holding my gaze boldly. Daring me to look away first. I refused. If I looked away first, that gave him the upper hand. I was not about to give him that.

,, That jackass. Look at him. All smug.. Ugh, I just wanna punch his stupid sexy face.” the thought surfaced and I quickly did my best at shoving it out again. I found myself thinking about a heated argument we’d had in the hallway earlier.

I found myself kind of drawing parallels between him and the character Alex was supposed to be playing but doing a terrible job at playing. I couldn’t work with the performance Alex was giving, he wasn’t giving me anything to work with.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, I found myself replaying my earlier argument with Sweetpea. Stepping closer to Alex. Doing my best to play at a lack of experience in dance, despite my vast experience and love for it. Getting immersed in the role. Imagining myself as the character Baby.. And not Alex but Sweetpea as Johnny Castle.

Alex delivered his line a second time. His delivery wasn’t much better. Kevin grumbled to himself and made his way over yet again. This time, Kevin’s problem with the scene had absolutely nothing to do with me.

He addressed me first. “Please, please please.. You have to play Baby. You have to.” he gave me a pleading look. “I’m prepared to beg, okay?”

I pretended to mull it over. Smiling as I nodded. “Okay, alright.. I can still do costumes though, right? Because I already have a ton of ideas drawn up..” I shuffled my feet, giving Kevin a pleading look.

“Yeah! Definitely. You’re the only one I trust to do the costumes right, Marlena.” Kevin answered quickly.

He turned his attention to Alex and they got into a heated argument. Alex blamed his performance on me and the fact that I seemed standoffish and that I wasn’t up to his level and shouldn’t even be sharing a stage with him to begin with. Insisting that Kevin should at least give Josie McCoy a chance to play Baby in our play. She already had her hands full with the senior class musical and her performance during intermission and Kevin pointed that out.

“Josie can’t do both musicals and intermission twice, Alex. That’s asking way too much. Even from her, man. Marlena is Baby. You can adapt to that or you’re welcome to leave.” Kevin stood firm in his decision.

Alex eyed me and I stood taller. Smirking up at him. More than a little amused by the entire thing. He chuckled. Shrugging as he tossed down the script he’d been holding in his hands. “Fine. Try to find somebody else to do a better job at playing Johnny. See how that works out. I’m done. I refuse to participate in this mockery.”

He stormed out of the auditorium.

My sister Veronica and Josie McCoy shared a look and a nod. Veronica stood. Josie shot up out of her seat also and the two jogged over to Kevin. Getting him off to the corner of the auditorium. As the three of them whispered back and forth, I stood there, shuffling my feet. Reading ahead in the script.

Taking it all in.

Honestly enjoying the fact that I was going to be playing Baby Housemann in the junior class musical immensely more than I thought I would. ,, until opening night when you’re on stage in front of everyone and you either freeze, bolt out of the room or throw up everywhere.” my mind taunted.

I shoved out the intrusive thought.

Kevin chuckled out loud. Getting so excited that he didn’t keep his voice down when he spoke up. “Your minds, I swear. Yeah, we’re gonna try that. Right now, actually.” Kevin told my sister and Josie. They smirked at each other and as they walked past me, Veronica gave me a wink.

And almost as soon as she did, I braced myself. Because I have the sneaking suspicion that my sister was up to something. And if that something had to do with a certain Serpent reading against me as Johnny Castle?

I was literally going to die. I’d be totally doomed.

,, maybe not.” and even the surprise optimism had me laughing at myself because I knew better.

“Sweetpea, can you come up here, man?” Kevin called out.

I tensed just a little. Took a deep breath. Suddenly I knew exactly what my sister had been up to but my question now was why had Josie taken part in the whole idea? I thought she was dating him? They were hot and heavy at Cheryl’s party a few weeks ago and they went places together a lot …

I prayed for a portal to another dimension to open in the stage and take me out. If my sister has even slightly hinted that I may or may not have feelings for the giant jerk to anyone I swear to God.. I’ll die.

Sweetpea hopped over the chair in front of him and walked down the long aisle, stopping where Kevin sat in the front row. The two were whispering back and forth and more than one time, Sweetpea glanced back at me. Smirking. Chuckling as he listened to what Kevin was telling him and rubbing his chin as he pretended to think something over.

Sweetpea looked over at me and shrugged as he answered Kevin. “I can try. I’m not makin any promises though because I don’t dance and I’ve never seen this movie.”

“Just trust me. You’re as Johnny as Johnny gets, Pea.” Kevin encouraged. I wanted to kick him so badly at that moment. Did he seriously have to encourage Sweetpea? There had to be someone else… anyone else. Someone I didn’t have a massive crush on and yet also want to strangle.

I pretended to stick my finger down my throat and gag, as per usual when Sweetpea locked eyes with me again as he walked towards where I stood..

,, because God forbid you let him even get an ounce of suspicion that you have a crush on the guy.” my brain was at it again with the taunting. I pushed it all down deep and took a deep breath or two.

“You did this just to be an asshole.” I muttered.

“No, I did this because Kevin’s my friend. Not everything I do is about pissing you off, princess.” Sweetpea chuckled as he said it. Adding in a quieter tone, “Just because you’re Marlena Lodge… That doesn’t make everything about you.”

My jaw set and I glared up at him. Taking a deep breath or two. Reminding myself that despite Sweetpea now reading as Johnny Castle, I still loved this movie and I wanted our class’s play to be worth watching. That I couldn’t mess this up. I couldn’t let Sweetpea taunt and torment me into messing this up either.

I didn’t want to disappoint Kevin because he was one of my best friends. He was depending on me to at least try to do my best here.

Kevin gave the signal for us to start from the top of the scene.

I stepped closer. My body brushing against Sweetpea’s. Sweetpea mirrored this and grabbed hold of my arms, pulling them out in front of me just like Patrick Swayze did in the actual movie as he recited the line.

And the tone in his voice, oh my god.

“Look, spaghetti arms. This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You gotta hold the frame.”

I responded with my line. Stepping closer, even throwing in an accidental mis-step on the top of his foot on my own.

Kevin continued to sit, watching us rehearse. By the time we got to the scene where Johnny is telling Baby that he got fired, I could feel more people’s eyes on us. And I swallowed hard, trying not to focus on being watched and how that felt, but instead, on the script. On what I had to say and how I felt like it needed to come across.

And maybe, in my own mind, I was imagining how I’d act if I were in Baby’s shoes. Having just argued with my father about the guy I was in love with only to turn and find out that despite my own optimism at convincing the guy to do the right thing, nothing worked out the way I wanted at all.

Sweetpea must have caught on to my anxiety because he muttered quietly, “You good, princess?” as he covertly brushed his hand against mine. Clearing his throat to get my attention and keep me from getting nervous and blanking out or bolting off the stage.

I gazed up at him a second or two, finally nodding. Managing to ground myself somehow and I tried my best to convince myself it was not because Sweetpea’s fingers laced through mine. Almost as if he’d caught hold of my hand to keep me from leaving.

,, He’s just doing that because it’s in the script. You’re supposed to be having a heated discussion and you’re about to walk away upset. That’s the only reason he grabbed your hand. It has nothing to do with the fact that you kind of freaked out a little and lost your focus.” I reminded myself grimly as I caught up to where we were on the page and took a deep breath, preparing for my turn to speak.

As I delivered my next line, “So I did it for nothing.I hurt my family, you lost your job anyway-- I did it for nothing!” I wanted to disappear into the stage floor when my sister stood up in her chair, clapping and whistling. But the way I said it sounded so wistful. Disappointed and bitter. Like I was truly hurting.

Sweet Pea said his line. “No, no, not for nothin', Baby! Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before.” and I paused. Staring up at him. Blown away because he sounded so sincere too. Like for a second or two, this was really taking place and it wasn’t just some silly rehearsal. Like he meant what he was saying.

But I knew he didn’t. We tolerate each other at best. At our worst, we’re at each other’s throats constantly. Finding any and all excuses to rip into each other or push the other’s buttons. Because it’s just what we do.

But his tone. The look in his eyes when he delivered the line. The way his eyes fixed on me, searching. Waiting.

“It’s your turn, princess.. Cat got your tongue?” he muttered under his breath to draw me out of my own inner turmoil.

I took a deep breath and scanned the page. Finding my next line. “You were right, Johnny. You can't win no matter what you do!” and I could feel him staring as I said it. Biting his lip when I lazily punched at his chest because it felt like the right thing to do in the heat of the moment to show how upset the character was. I shook my head and dropped my eyes. “You were right.” I muttered in a quieter tone.

Sweetpea reached out, rough fingertips gripping my jawline. Guiding my eyes back up to meet his as he replied with the next line, “You listen to me. I don't wanna hear that from you. You can!”

And again, it sounded so real. Emotional. Like we were really having this argument. I was really getting into this. Probably a little too much for my own good. I sighed and shook my head sadly. Biting my lip as I stepped away a little and continued to shake my head, arguing back, “I used to think so.” and after a second or two, adding in a quieter tone, “Now I don’t know anymore.” even though it wasn’t in the script.

Sweetpea was staring at me. Thoughtful. Intent. Almost as if he were actually seeing me and not all the stupid things he’d written me off as from the word go on the first time we met. He cleared his throat and that shit-eating smirk was back again. “Not too bad, huh?”

“Jackass.” I muttered, mostly to myself. Still a little dazed.

Kevin called for a break and made his way over.

“Okay, we’re going to take this all the way from the beginning tomorrow. I wish I’d done this sooner. We’re going to have to practice the lift next. Because the lift is iconic. We have to pull that off or I’m gonna want to punch myself in the throat.” Kevin was excited, rambling away a mile a minute.

Sweetpea spoke up. “What about my part in the senior musical?”

“You can do both. We’ll move the junior musical to a different night. You have to do this. C’mon…”

Sweetpea grumbled and finally muttered with a shrug, “Okay, alright. Fine. Shit. I’ll do it. But I’m not wearing tights, are we clear?”

“You really haven’t seen the movie at all… have you?” I scoffed as I gazed up at Sweetpea. He mimicked me and shrugged. “I’ve seen bits of it. But I know one thing and that’s dancers wear tights. I’m not wearing tights. Not happenin.”

“For your information, you big idiot, Patrick Swayze does not wear tights a single time in this movie. At least not that I remember and I’ve seen it a thousand times... Suit and tie, maybe.”

Sweetpea grumbled and raised a brow.

“Not for the whole movie, damn it.. Black jeans and a black shirt will suffice for most of it. You can even wear your leather jacket, you big man-baby. Johnny Castle wears one in the movie.” I answered. Stepping closer to him to sort of get a visual read on his measurements so that when the time came I at least kind of had an idea of what worked. Sweetpea chuckled, dragging his fingers through his hair as he gazed down at me. “See something you like, princess?”

“I’m trying to figure out what I’m gonna need for your costume, dingus.” I replied as calmly as possible.

“Ya know, you could always just measure me… Right? Or ask me my size?”

“Oh you’d enjoy that entirely too much. And I’d have to touch you. No, nope. No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“I’m gonna have to touch you anyway. That lift or whatever it was that had Kevin rambling just now.” Sweetpea barely hid his amusement as he stepped even closer. A hand at my hip. Lingering.

For a second or two, I was lost in his eyes and totally oblivious to anything going on around us and then Kevin shattered that by starting the last song of the musical and calling for everyone to take their places.

And from the crowd, Fangs spoke up.

“Hey babe.. What if we got all the extras from the clubhouse scene to come in through the crowd? Just like the movie?” Fangs was smirking at both Sweetpea and I as he spoke up. Enjoying this entire situation way too much.

“Fangs, you brilliant and beautiful man, this is exactly why I love you so much.” Kevin smirked as he rubbed his chin and called out. “Okay, if you were an extra in the clubhouse scene, go to the doors of the auditorium. When Fangs gives the signal, you’ll come in. Dancing.”

He turned to Sweetpea. “You go with them.”

Sweetpea managed to break the staredown we had going on and he nodded. Grumbling as he walked towards the front of the auditorium.

Everything went pretty well until we got to the part where I was supposed to run to Sweetpea and he was supposed to lift me over his head. I took off, running towards him.

I missed the mark. Wound up with my legs wrapped around his waist, clinging for dear life while he staggered back just a little. Both of us arguing about whose fault it was that we messed up.

Kevin cleared his throat.

“You guys need more practice. Maybe you could rehearse together?”

Sweetpea and I glanced at each other, mulling it over.

“Fine.” Sweetpea ground out through a jaw tightly clenched. A glance at Fangs revealed that the reason he agreed without a huge fight was probably something to do with the way Fangs was giving him a demanding look.

“Fine.” I answered. Swallowing hard.

Trying to pull myself together because frankly, I was still all sorts of stirred up from the way he’d actually caught me and the fact that no, I hadn’t wanted him to put me back on my feet at the end, either.

I spoke up again. “We can do it at the bunker.” I suggested. Trying to think of a neutral place that didn’t favor either of us heavily. A place we could hopefully be alone and focus. And probably scream and shove and storm away to cool off if things got too heated.

“8 work for you or does daddy let you out past your bedtime, princess?” Sweetpea taunted, smirking at me when I glared and rolled my eyes.

“ I do what I want.” I scoffed at his parting jab.

From behind me, my sister spoke up. “Are you ready, Marlena?” as she looked back and forth between Sweetpea and I with an amused grin.

“Yeah. We need to get going.” I answered.

As my sister and I walked out of the auditorium, my sister gave a soft laugh. “That wasn’t so bad, huh? I knew you could do it.”

“Oh shut up.” I grumbled, managing a weak smile. “We haven’t made it to the night of yet. Don’t jinx this. Remember what happened last time I had to get up in front of people and talk in any capacity?”

“Marlena, that was kindergarten. Maybe it’ll be different.”

“Veronica, I threw up everywhere. And not gracefully, either. It was a full on projectile vomit.”

“That was something. The chemistry between you and Sweetpea in there. I felt like I was actually watching the movie.”

“He’s an ass. And he hates me, remember?”

“Yeah, well.. It didn’t look that way to me, Marlena. If he hated you, he wouldn’t have been standing so close the entire time… or the way he grabbed your hand?” my sister questioned.

I shrugged it off. “Can we change the subject?”

“Why? Afraid I might be right?” my sister teased, as usual.

TIME SKIP

“Okay, if he’s not here in ten minutes, I’m leaving. This place gives me the creeps.” I muttered to myself almost the exact second that I managed to find a spiderweb with my face and shriek about it.

Low chuckling from behind me had me turning. Finding myself body to body with Sweetpea as he tried not to laugh.

“Do you talk to yourself a lot or do I make you that nervous, princess?” he taunted. I gave a light shove and stepped away, pouting up at him. Quick to argue that he didn’t make me nervous, not at all, not even a little.

Despite knowing that the truth of the matter was yes. Yes, he made me extremely nervous. Because he was so distinctly my type and I just longed for what I knew wouldn’t ever work out between us because we were entirely too different.

“In other words, yes. I make you that nervous.” Sweetpea’s jaw set in a line and I flinched a little. Not wanting to fight with him.

I quickly changed the subject, nodding to a little tv and dvd player I’d rigged up earlier and the brown paper bags with Pop’s logo on the front.

“We need to rehearse. Not whatever this is.” Sweetpea was still irritated.

“Yes, well.. You’re never going to realize just how huge a part of the story Johnny Castle is until you’ve seen the movie.”

Sweetpea rubbed his chin in thought. “How long is this fucking movie?”

“Maybe two hours? C’mon… Or do you have a hot date waiting?” -the hint of jealousy that crept into my tone was enough to make me tense up a little. Pray to God he hadn’t picked up on it. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to, instead, he was already digging into the grease stained paper bags, grabbing himself a burger and fries.

Sprawling on the little twin sized bed.

I dug out my own food and sat down, close to the edge of the bed, careful not to sit too close to him because I didn’t want to crowd him or annoy him or give him the wrong impression.. Or in my case, the right impression though I’d die before admitting that to him.

After hitting play on the DVD player, the opening title splashed across the screen and I smiled, settling into my chosen seat just a little more comfortably.

About thirty minutes into the movie, I could feel his eyes fixed on me. I turned to look back at him, a brow raised. “What?”

“You know every single line.”

I felt my cheeks burn a little, shrugging it off as I nodded. Answering through a mouth full, “When we were little.. Veronica and I used to watch this movie whenever it was raining or we were sick. We’d get cozy in one of our rooms with snacks and blankets and we’d just like… imagine life being that simple. Doesn’t help that Johnny Castle is - to quote my sister, “Totally your kind of man.” “ I gave a sheepish laugh and took a handful of my fries, raking them through my milkshake.

Sweetpea rose to sit. Leaning in a little. Extending his arm and wiping his thumb over the corner of his mouth as he cleared his throat. “You had some milkshake…” before falling silent all over again. Staring at me for seconds that seemed to stretch infinitely. It felt like everything fell away. All that remained was that thick tension. The flickering of the candles I’d lit earlier against the wall. The tension got to me. It had everything I wanted to say but couldn’t find the nerve threatening to come out.

“I don’t bite, ya know.” he muttered quietly. Pulling away a little. That look in his eyes again.

It hit me. He honestly thought I disliked him. Or thought that I was better than him. Nothing could be further from the truth and realizing how he must have felt and what probably fuelled most of the comments and the arguments between us was the fact that he thought I viewed him as a lesser person somehow… that really got to me.

“I, uh.. I didn’t want to crowd you.” I managed to get the words out after a few seconds. Not daring to look at him. Desperate for a rewind button so maybe I could go back in time to when I first met him and salvage everything.

Desperate to tell him how I really felt.

Especially when I remembered what Veronica mentioned earlier about the way Josie just shut him out.

“Oh.”

The movie caught our attention again. After a minute or two of sitting poised right at the edge of the bed like I’d been and longing to really get comfortable, I settled in the sliver of space next to him. Trying not to think about the fact that the bed being as small as it was gave us literally no space and we were forced to touch.

Thirty minutes passed. Sweetpea sat up.

“ I think I get it now.” he muttered.

“Yeah?” I was getting lost in his eyes all over again.

“Mhm.” he affirmed.

I sat up and so did he. “It’s cheesy as hell, but… I get it. Kinda know how the guy feels.” Sweetpea’s gaze settled on his hands and he chuckled to himself, the sound almost bitter.

“I’m sorry. I heard about you and Josie breaking up.”

“We didn’t. You can’t break up with someone if they never wanted to be with you to begin with.” Sweetpea answered. He tensed up a little and I sighed. Wishing I hadn’t opened my mouth.

That tension between him and I doubled.

In an attempt to make things just a little lighter, I slipped off the bed. Held out my hand.

Sweetpea eyed it warily.

I insisted, “Oh come on, please? Just one dance. You did say we had to practice. And I dance, so I can definitely tell you that if we don’t at least somewhat connect, we’re going to be awkward and it’s going to look bad.”

Did I really just do that?

The scene where Baby goes to Johnny’s cabin and spends the night was just beginning and I swallowed hard as soon as I glanced back up at Sweetpea and realized that he was staring at the television in a daze. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

“You want me to dance with you.. Like that. Okay.” Sweetpea towered over me. Closing the space between our bodies before I had a chance to back out of what I asked of him. His hands went straight to my hips. Holding my body in place against his as he chuckled, looking down at me. “You’re the one who wanted to dance, princess.”

“Yeah.” I managed to stammer. Breathless. Helpless thanks to the way his fingers dug into my hips and held me against him. But when they started to move up and down my sides, oh… I felt myself shiver at the touch. Melting against him on my own. I’d been trying my best not to give in and do that.

I trained my eyes on the front of his plaid shirt because I didn’t dare look up at him.

His leg slipped between mine and I bit my lip. Breath catching in my throat all over again as I rubbed myself against his thigh. My usual careful,guarded filter was gone.

All I cared about was doing whatever I could to show Sweetpea that what he thought I felt towards him wasn’t true.

His hands settled across my ass. Fingers digging in as he gasped quietly. A groan slipping out as he muttered in a daze, “You really are a good dancer, huh?”

“I, uh… I compete. My parents are huge on pushing my sister and I into competitive activities, whether we want it or not.” I babbled.

It must have bothered him that I wasn’t looking at him because he gripped my jaw, guiding my gaze up. “But you like dancing. I can tell.”

,, maybe it’s just dancing like this with you.” the thought came. I stopped just shy of actually letting it slip out. I sighed and smiled, nodding in agreement. Because that was so much easier than everything else I wanted to do or say. ,, besides,” my brain continued to taunt, “why on Earth is he going to want you when he could have literally anyone else?” and the thought had me pouting a little.

I didn’t think he was aware of it.

“What?” he asked. Tensing a little. Loosening his grip on my body just a little bit. Seeming as if he wanted to step away from me. Before I had the chance to talk myself out of it, I melted against him all over again. Raising my arms to slip them around his neck.

“Nothing.” I answered after a few seconds.

“You were pouting again. That’s kind of a thing you do when you’re upset, you’re not getting your way or you’re annoyed.”

The fact that he picked up on that had me raising a brow. Scoffing. About to argue that I didn’t pout all the time, but keeping quiet because I knew he was right.

But how -and when, had he noticed?

“Dreading the fact that I’m going to get up there on stage and see everyone watching and I will panic.” I muttered quietly because a half truth was better than the whole truth or a complete lie.

If I told him the real reason I’d been pouting, well.. That would’ve opened up a can of worms that I’m not sure about opening. God I want to. But if I just lay it all on the line…

I can’t.

Sweetpea raised a brow. He started to say something but he went quiet on me. Thinking.

“But you’re so loud.” he finally spoke up.

I pouted up at him, giving his chest a light smack. “I ought to step on your foot, sir.”

“Won’t hurt. Boots are steel toe.” Sweetpea smirked as he said it. Sticking his tongue out at me.

He dipped me and I hadn’t been expecting it. I gasped and he chuckled. “Not so bad at this dancing shit, hmm?” he questioned as he pulled me back up. His hands moved up and down my back before settling on my ass again. Squeezing when I rocked myself over his thigh just a little before I could stop myself because what he was doing was getting me worked up.

I sighed a little. Melting all over at the way he touched me and held me. Admitting with a quiet laugh, “You’re actually not. And I can teach you more..” trailing off and going quiet.

“You can, huh?”

His voice was this perfect mix of gravel and silk and I had to clench my thighs just a little. Found myself praying to whatever God might exist that I didn’t get too excited and leave a wet spot behind on his jeans. Because that would definitely seal the embarrassment and awkwardness factor. And I didn’t want that.

I was staring intently at his chest again when he tucked his fingers beneath my chin and tilted my head. “Careful what you say, princess. I might actually take you seriously.”

“I’m being serious. I don’t mind at all.” I babbled and instantly, I wanted to punch myself in the throat for it. This awkward version of myself wasn’t me but for whatever reason, Sweetpea seemed to bring it out. All my insecurities seemed to come rushing to the surface. Taunting me with the knowledge that there was no way he’d ever be interested in me beyond the convenience of a good screw. Knowing that even if he were, something would go wrong somehow.

He dipped me again. This time when he pulled me back up, our faces bumped against each other and when my mouth brushed against his, I couldn’t stop the quiet gasp that came. His fingers dug into my body just a little more and we were staring at each other.

Dazed.

“Pea?”

“What’s up, princess?” he muttered after a second or two. Blinking as if he were trying to focus.

“Nothing.” I muttered. Losing my nerve and my train of thought. Pushing down everything I’d been about to say all over again.

“ Why do you do that? Just say whatever it is you want to say.”

“Oh, I don’t think you want me to do that.” I muttered, mostly to myself. My gaze trained on anything and everything but his. He guided my face up and licked his lips, his eyes darting down. Settling on my mouth. “What if I do?” he muttered in response after a few seconds.

“Okay, fine. I was wondering what..” I trailed off. Frustrated. Laughing at myself and shaking my head. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

“Tell me, woman. Damn.” his tone was firm and I swallowed hard as I looked up at him.

He was going to keep at it until I said something and right now, I was drawing a blank on any other convenient things I could say that were less controversial than what I’d stopped myself from saying.

,, maybe if you say it, he’ll know that you don’t hate him.” the thought came.

I took a deep breath. Shaky.

“I was wondering what your kiss feels like.” I muttered, my voice dropping so low that for a second, I didn’t think he heard me.

His jaw dropped. One hand left my ass and raised. Dragging through thick dark hair as he tugged. His mouth opening and closing.

“What? You kept asking… I.. You don’t have to. I didn’t want to make it weird.” I babbled nervously. When he started to chuckle, I looked up at him with a brow raised. “Gee, thanks.” I pouted.

Stepping away. Because if I didn’t put some distance between us right then, I was going to keep digging the hole deeper.

He reached out and grabbed me by the hips, pulling me against him all over again. Rocking himself into me clumsily. His face inching closer and closer to my own. Our mouths were on a collision course and neither of us bothered to stop it from happening. His lips settled against the corner of my mouth clumsily. His tongue traced the outline of my lips and I shivered and melted against him like I’d been before. Clinging. My arms around his neck again. Fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck before settling my hand across to rest and pull his mouth back against mine.

My lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past my lips and he melted into me this time. Deepening the kiss. Using his grip on my ass to pull me up his body slightly. I sighed as the kiss broke, my tongue rolling over kiss swollen lips. Staring at him as I tried to wrap my head around what just happened.

How badly I wanted it to happen again.

“Well?”

I bit my lip. Trying to formulate words. Anything. My brain must have short-circuited because I came up with nothing, despite all the opening and closing of my mouth as I attempted to answer.

I’m not sure what possessed me to do it or why I thought it was a good idea, but I was grabbing hold of the back of his neck. Pulling his mouth back against mine greedily. Taking total control of the kiss this time around. Making him chuckle into the kiss.

As we pulled apart to breathe, he repeated his question.

“Better than my wildest dreams.” I blurted out quietly.

“So you dream about kissing me?” he asked, tucking his fingers beneath my chin so that I couldn’t do what I tended to when a subject got to be too uncomfortable for me… I swallowed hard and admitted in a hushed tone, “Among other things.”

He growled out the word “Fuck.” and pulled me up his body completely. Deepening the kiss to a point where I almost forgot to breathe a time or two. I could feel myself getting light-headed. The kiss broke and we pulled apart, breathing heavily. I melted against him, dazed. Still trying to get my head around the turn the night had taken.

“It’s getting late, princess.”

“It is.”

“I should probably get you home.”

I pouted a little. Holding onto him just a little tighter. “Unfortunately.” I muttered.

He scooped me off the table and carried me out of the bunker. Sitting me on the back of his motorcycle. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned against his back, the Serpent patch scratching at my skin a little.

The drive back to the Pembrooke took almost no time and as soon as his motorcycle stopped at the curb, I pouted a little. Rolling my eyes at the literal ivory tower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I asked as I slipped off the back of his motorcycle.

He grabbed hold of my hips, pulling me against him. Leaning down and stealing another deep kiss. “Mhm. Definitely, princess.”

I practically floated up the stairs leading into the lobby of the building. And I leaned against the wall, waiting on the elevator. Trying to pull myself together. Smiling like an idiot.

#sweetpea #sweetpea x oc imagine #sweetpea oneshot #sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea x oc fanfiction #sweetpea x oc fic #sweetpea imagines #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction ; sweetpea #my oneshots ; sweetpea #my imagines ; sweetpea #// okay not gonna lie this one got away from me but it's heckin cuuute af.#// if you wanna see these two more often pls lmk #// i beg #// this is about to flop so goddamn hard #// safe for kiddos eyes this time hehe

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guudak · 4 years

Text

andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?”

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.”

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be.

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head.

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ”

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled.

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs.

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother.

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back.

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.”

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you.

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh.

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him.

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.”

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?”

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.”

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest.

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so.

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up.

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed.

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila.

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two -

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in.

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!”

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook.

So that was that.

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.”

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next.

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?”

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature.

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?”

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven.

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.”

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks.

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name.

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all.

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms.

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell.

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him.

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.”

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head.

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed.

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring.

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion.

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.”

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.”

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers.

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.”

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room.

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right?

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him.

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape.

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead.

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed.

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm.

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been.

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground.

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.”

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.”

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.”

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?”

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously.

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous.

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath.

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place?

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face.

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook.

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point.

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again.

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior.

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.”

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.”

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you.

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.”

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause.

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear.

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees.

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.”

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate.

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you.

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder.

When was the last time someone looked at you like that?

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him.

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper.

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.”

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing.

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.”

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

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dt-canim · 3 years

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Oh boy, this is gonna be a long one haha. This is a bit of an unusual post, but Tumblr, I need some assistance.

Ok so I've always have known about autism and stuff like it but it wasn't until about a year ago that I started looking into neurodivergency more. If you're wondering, it was brought about by my favorite Ducktales episode (season 3 episode 6: Astro Boyd) airing for the first time and I saw people talking about its autistic/neurodivergent themes.

Since then, I’ve been picking up some of my tendencies and it got me wondering. I never remember getting tested for this stuff so this is just based on my experiences and research. So for educational purposes, I'm gonna put some of the traits I do and see if any neurodivergent ppl relate lol

The first thing I want to touch upon is something plenty of us are probably familiar with: stimming. My experiences include;

Excitedly hitting a book I'm reading because of a cool call back, a really funny joke, or simply something badass happening (this just happened to me other day lol)

Flailing my arms and/or legs when something similar (to the point above) happens in a movie or tv show I enjoy

“Vibing” with my best friend includes: waving my arms and head around, bobbing up and down like I am an idle video game character, and/or just generally moving in place for a solid minute or two

The next thing I will mention: Hyperfixations

If you have seen my Tumblr, profile, or simply paid attention to the beginning of this post, you may not be surprised that I hyperfixate with my favorite show, possibly ever, Ducktales. I got emotional last year when I heard it was ending and legitimately cried at the end of the last episode. I mean watching those final credits still makes my heart hurt. (And I know I'm terrible at posting but I will never truly leave the Dt fandom)

Sometimes it happens rather quickly. For instance, I went to the mall with my friend last Saturday and impulsively bought a book called The Extraordinaries. I finished it in 3 days and I swear if I don't go back to that Barnes & Noble and get my hands on the sequel soon I will do crimes.

When I find things to hyperfixate about it is all I want to talk about with people for a while. But then I feel bad when they don't share my interests because I don't just want people to listen to me babble my head off all the time about stuff they don't care about.

Something I found out recently, losing track of time apparently can be a neurodivergent trait.

So yeah I've done this a lot. Overall, I just have terrible time management skills. I'm not great at putting things down on a timeline and it makes me anxious when I do so.

Also, since going into homeschooling about 5 years ago, I constantly lose track of time. Most of the time, I only know what day and time it is because I have a calendar next to my bed and a phone around me at all times. (off-topic but it annoys me that I used the word time so often here)

Prioritizing tasks, knowing how to start things, and just overall getting shiz done..???

I have. So many. Sketches I want to finish. But I keep going to a new one cause woop I just got a new idea must do it now right?! (Seriously though, I'm sorry that I haven't been posting much art lately)

I have a comic I want to start developing but I have no idea how on earth I should do that. And sometimes things seem obvious, like get the outlines for your story, get main plot points down, PUT YOUR DAM IDEAS YOU HAVE IN YOUR HEAD DOWN SOMEWHERE ANYWHERE. But nooo I'll just sit here and keep starting new sketches of my main characters. That'll get you a product you'll be happy with.

Sometimes I will just sit there thinking ok I'm sitting here but I have work I need to get done and I am running out of time to do it and it is stressing me out right now but I can't move I can't do it but I need to because it needs to get done and I am running out of time but it is stressful. Rinse and repeat for at least a half-hour, maybe take a nap lol.

This point is the fact that even though I never got tested I know I have maladaptive daydreaming which has a link to Adhd and neurodivergency in general.

For those who don't know what that is, I will try to explain. Yes, it is daydreaming but it's more than that. (you know what? I'm just gonna put the traits I found off of a site and add my feelings toward it lol)

extremely vivid daydreams with their own characters, settings, plots, and other detailed, story-like features

daydreams triggered by real-life events (mostly media I consume in my case)

difficulty completing everyday tasks (kinda like the stress-sitting I mentioned earlier just with daydreaming mixed in)

difficulty sleeping at night (at the time of making this point is it currently 3 am, though I am aware I'm up rn because of this post, it is usually because of the daydreaming)

an overwhelming desire to continue daydreaming (ok that's just...accurate)

performing repetitive movements while daydreaming (typically I walk around my house like a ping pong ball)

making facial expressions while daydreaming (idk I usually mouth what my character are saying or replicate the face their making)

whispering and talking while daydreaming (^^)

daydreaming for lengthy periods

The last thing I will mention for now is my family cause many sources say that this stuff is commonly genetic soooooooo

My mother has been diagnosed with dyslexia since she was a kid.

We've suspected that my brother has Adhd. To put it in perspective I will paraphrase something that his 2nd-grade teacher once said. “He moves around so much I want to just strap him to a chair sometimes but I am afraid to do it cause I think he'll explode”

I have more I could potentially talk about but I don't want to make this too long. I just want to know if anyone relates to this. So here take this mess of me hahahaaaaaaaa

#neurodivergent #adhd #austism #adhd things #stimming #hyperfixation #maladaptive problems #maladaptive daydreaming #maladaptive behaviors #neurodivergencies #does any if this make sense

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 3 years

Text

Here’s the next chapter! Hope you enjoy. Also a big thank you to @edward-or-ford, as always, for his invaluable feedback!

Chapter Five: Into the Night

It’s three AM, I’m outside your window. Jump the fence; dad will never know. And then you took control of the radio, turned up all the songs I know. I’m risking everything, and that’s alright with me. - The Summer Set, Passenger Seat

Mabel Caroline Pines, age seventeen, five foot three (and a Virgo, for interested parties) was positively average. As in, she was perfectly fine. Reasonably acceptable. Nothing to gawk at, sure, but certainly not a goblin or in any way repulsive.

Her face was average, her boobs were average, her hair was average, her butt was average. Even her feet were average-sized. There was nothing inherently wrong with Mabel’s appearance. Sure, she’d change the odd thing here and there if given the chance to do so (the length of her eyelashes, for example, or the natural shape of her eyebrows).

Of course, Mabel would never admit such things out loud. How could she? It would ruin the confidence she pretended to have, and that simply wouldn’t do.

To be fair to herself, which she always tried to be, Mabel was quite skilled at creativity-driven tasks. However, no amount of creative proficiency could have prevented the required sleuthing, as well as pre-sleuth planning and timing, that one particular evening required in order to be pulled off.

Mabel didn’t deign to share with Candy and Grenda exactly whom she was meeting (“I’m sneaking out to meet my brother in the dead of night” hardly warrants a forty-five minute shower where she spent the majority of the time shaving parts of her body that didn’t strictly need shaving as they wouldn’t be seen, thirty minutes of blow drying and styling one’s hair, thirty more minutes of makeup application, the nervousness, not to mention the outfit-picking-out process), but she did say she was meeting a boy she might’ve sorta kinda had a teensy bit of a thing for. Her friends knew her well enough to know she was understating her feelings a great deal, of course, but they didn’t pry. Okay, they did, but they didn’t pry too much.

In any case, Mabel was quite pleased with the results of her hour in the bathroom mirror. She’d drenched the ever-loving crap out of her hair in glitter spray as she brushed it, and the hot air of the hair dryer made the spray set in so it didn’t get on Candy’s fingers while she began a partial French braid at the crown of Mabel’s head.

Y’know, the sort of hairstyle that, to the untrained eye, didn’t look like it took a whole lot of time and effort, when in reality, it 100% did.

“Why can’t we use bright red lipstick again, or wing your eyeliner?” Grenda complained.

“Because,” Mabel said emphatically. “If Di-“ Cutting herself off and pressing her lips together tightly, collecting her thoughts. Candy raised a slender eyebrow before Mabel continued. “If he sees winged eyeliner and bright red lipstick, he’ll think something’s up! I don’t want him to know I’m interested!”

“But you want him to look deep into your eyes, and the eyeliner will draw attention to them,” reminded Grenda.

“Yeah, and bright red lipstick will draw attention to your lips, which means he’s more likely to think about kissing you,” agreed Candy.

Mabel sighed and held up a tube of lipstick that was just a few shades darker than her natural lip color.

“The pink will do that same thing without being too obvious about it. If he’s interested, he’ll notice my lips and my boobs, and if he’s not, then, well… then he’s not, I guess.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Grenda conceded.

Candy was silent for a moment, staring searchingly at Mabel’s face. “Who did you say you were meeting again?”

“I- I didn’t,” Mabel stuttered briefly, covering her discomfort by turning her attention to applying the lipstick. This was just as well, as if she had seen Candy’s highly suspicious expression, she would’ve been even more nervous than she already was, and it should be noted that that was no small amount by any measure.

Perfect. Just the right amount of “LOOK AT ME” vibes from her lips.

Grabbing a bottle of perfume, she sprayed a bit on her wrist, rubbing it against her other one, and then on her neck and under her ears.

“You guys sure this outfit isn’t too much? I don’t want him to think I’m trying to impress him, and the heels, I dunno...”

Both girls shook their heads furiously. “No, it’s perfect! And we already coordinated your makeup and jewelry so no way are we changing it up now!” Grenda exclaimed.

“Mhm,” Candy agreed. “And the heels are perfect! They make your hips sway extra when you walk and they make your butt stuck out a little bit! They’re not even that high, he probably won’t even notice you’re wearing them.”

Right. Nobody wore jeans when they were trying to impress somebody. Well, not when they were being obvious about it, anyway. And Mabel was certainly trying her hardest not to be obvious.

And she was 100% trying to impress Dipper. She wanted Dipper to see her and wish she wasn’t his sister, wish they shared a soulmark. She wanted him to ache so badly for her that it felt like his bones were trying to escape his skin.

She ached for him that way, after all. It was only fair she made him ache for her in return. Even if it was only once, only for a split second.

When Mabel’s phone chimed to signal she’d gotten a text, she snatched it up before either of her friends could sneak a peek at the screen.

I’m outside read Dipper’s text. Then a second one came in with a whoosh from her phone’s speaker. Lights are off so nobody can see my car but I’m here.

Mabel wasn’t sure where her heart was. It might’ve been in her stomach, or perhaps her throat, or maybe even Candy’s basement, but it most definitely was not in her chest.

“He’s here,” Mabel said quietly, standing on shaky legs. God, why had she worn heels? What had she been thinking?

“Are you ready?!” Grenda demanded excitedly.

“Nope,” Mabel squeaked out.

“Yes you are!” Candy said firmly. “You are absolutely ready! You look hot, girl, you’re gonna make him jizz his pants just from looking at you!”

Mabel seriously doubted that, and she would most definitely laugh if it happened. But yeah, it wasn’t gonna happen. Because no matter how much time Mabel spent on making herself look her prettiest, Dipper would only ever see her as his sister.

Still, though. A girl could dream, right?

Mabel has never really considered Candy’s first floor bedroom being an asset before, but it most certainly had become one. Climbing out a window was far easier if that window was on the ground floor.

Still, staring out into the blackness of the cold Oregon night as Candy popped out her window screen and set it to the side, Mabel wondered how she had gotten there. Thirteen minutes before midnight, done up like she was going on a date, about to climb out her friend’s bedroom window and tiptoe through the front yard to secretly meet her twin brother whom she just so happened to be in love with, praying to every deity she’d ever heard of that he hadn’t found his soulmate.

Not yet, she pleaded silently, staring at the outline of his car, just a shade darker than the trees and the night sky, barely visible at all. Let me have him to myself just a little longer.

She wasn’t ready to share him with another girl. She never really would be, but in time, she’d come to accept it. She had to, right? There was no other option. She wanted him to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with her, even if it made her feel like her body was consuming itself from the inside out, she wanted him to be happy.

“Mabel?” Grenda asked cautiously.

“I’m fine,” she assured her friend. She couldn’t mess up her makeup by crying.

Mascara and eyeliner were a bitch to fix.

Bracing herself on the windowsill, she put one jean-clad leg over and out the window, then the other.

Looking back at her friends in the light of Candy’s bedroom one last time, second guessing herself for half a second (she’d never snuck out before, after all), Mabel smiled shakily. Both her friends beamed back at her. Candy leaned down the couple of inches required to be at Mabel’s eye level.

“Knock ‘em dead.”

Grenda nodded enthusiastically. “And tell us everything when you get back!”

Grinning, Mabel hopped out of the window only to immediately realize that heels and frosty grass were not a great mix, and thus struggled to maintain her balance.

“Wait!” Grenda whisper-yelled.

Whipping her head around to look at her friends staring out at her through the window, Mabel smiled as Candy hastily squashed the essentials (phone, lipstick, tampons, breath mints, makeup remover wipes, and a compact mirror) into a purse before shoving it into the hand Grenda had stretched out behind her and was flailing about wildly, signalling to hurry the fuck up, Candy, time is of the essence here before finally tossing it at Mabel, who caught it with minimal fumbling and put it over her shoulder.

“We’ll leave the window unlocked. Let us know if you aren’t gonna come home tonight!” Grenda informed Mabel with an exaggerated wink and closed the window.

Mabel rolled her eyes affectionately and did her very best to hobble over to Dipper’s car with as much dignity as she could muster.

Heels and grass did not mix, and they extra-dextra didn’t mix when the grass was wet and very, very cold.

Reaching the curb, she perched her feet on it, and reached slowly, ever so slowly, towards the handle, and heard the click of the lock being undone from the inside. She couldn’t see in the windows; it was too dark.

The chill of the winter night bit into her fingers as they brushed the silver door handle, and she exhaled as she grasped it, her breath visible in the cold air.

Grasping the handle, Mabel opened the door slowly, and the overhead light in the car switched on automatically.

“Hurry!” Dipper whispered urgently. “Don’t want anyone to see the light.”

Mabel moved to sit in the passenger seat of his car as quickly as she could with the amount of shaking her limbs were doing, and settled in, closing the door behind her.

“Where are we going?” She asked, too afraid to look at him in the dim light of the streetlamp. She’d have to strain her eyes a great deal to see him, anyway.

“The woods. Not far from here. Just… somewhere nobody will see my car and recognize it.”

“Awfully recognizable, are ya now?” She tried to joke, but it came out stilted and awkward. Could he tell how nervous, no, how terrified, she was?

She could almost hear the shrug in his voice as he started the car, not turning the headlights on until they turned a corner.

“I mean… it’s a really small town. I don’t think there’s anybody here whose name I don’t know. So yeah, they all know what my car looks like,” he said it quietly, and it occurred to Mabel just then that he hadn’t turned on any music. The silence was suffocating.

Not knowing what to say, Mabel remained silent for a bazillion years, watching the trees pass them by. It was nothing like California, where the activity never stopped, just changed. It was quiet. Peaceful. Suffocating.

Okay, so it wasn’t actually a bazillion years. More like ten minutes. But hell if it didn’t feel like a bazillion years.

Dipper pulled into a clearing and put the car in park. It wasn’t a road, but it had clearly been driven over many a time.

The light came on again as he switched gears, and he turned the headlights back off. Turning to look at each other, really look at each other, for the first time since that afternoon, they found themselves speechless.

Dipper was, in a word, breathtaking. The soft glow of the overhead light lit the shadows on his face in such a way that his eyes almost seemed to glow, and his hair fell over his forehead in the most adorable way, and his lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were flushed from the cold.

It was warm in the car, but what else could his cheeks be flushed from?

“You look…” he coughed, looking at his lap briefly. “Nice,” he finished weakly.

“Thanks,” she managed to force out. Even a syllable was a struggle. God, how had she never been alone with him before? Why was the atmosphere so incredibly different? She didn’t even feel like herself!

“So… here’s the thing, Mabel…” he trailed off.

“The thing?”

“Yeah, the thing I wanted to talk to you about. Y’know. The thing,” he held his hands out and accentuated the last word with a movement.

“Errr… sorry, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro-bro,” she shook her head. “You literally just left me a ultra-mega cryptic note saying you had to tell me something and that’s it.”

He nodded, ran a hand through his hair, and when he turned his head just so his jawline came into the light and- good god why? Why must the gods torture Mabel thus?

“Right. I guess…” he blinked rapidly, staring determinedly off in the direction of absolutely nothing. “I guess you wouldn’t, huh?”

“Is… is everything okay?” She asked him softly. “It’s gotta be pretty important for you to want a one-on-one meeting like this, so…”

“Yeah, I mean, no… I mean. Ugh. I dunno.” He ran a hand over his face, clearly agonizing over something.

What in the actual ever-loving fuck was going on?

“Dip,” she said, forcing a sternness she definitely didn’t feel into her voice. “What’s going on?”

“Right,” he said with a nod that appeared to be more to himself than to her, and then looked at her. There was something in his eyes. Mabel didn’t know what it was, but whatever was in his gaze, she knew in her very soul that it was the exact opposite of the frost on the grass outside the car.

Not that that made any sense, of course, but that was the only conclusion she could come to without at least forty-five minutes of analysis.

“Right,” he said again. “I guess… I guess it would probably be easier to just… show you, maybe…”

“Uh. Okay?” Mabel blinked. Show her what now?

Dipper held out his arm, palm up, except his fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were shut, too, and in much the same way, and then…

And then he took a deep breath, held it, and yanked his sleeve up.

Mabel’s eyes were fixed on the inside of his wrist. Dipper’s soulmark was a shooting star with the outline of a tree in the center.

Exactly like hers.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #Pinecest #gravity falls #Mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

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ughgclden · 3 years

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bee, love, i am so happy you had a good first day, you deserve calm and loving days, and you deserve people, deserve friends. i’m so happy for you.

as for apologising, i’m a terrible hypocrite every time i tell you not to worry about it, as i also apologise for anything, most notably existing, but i want you to know you don’t have to apologise to me, i understand the impulse but there’s no obligation or anything.

i’m glad you’re feeling better, and that it was just a little ick, well not glad that you were ick but glad it wasn’t too bad.

when it comes to being in welton, i fantasise a lot about these things, i think something especially about boarding schools is appealing to me. being away. that’s why my plans are new york or wales or if my friend is to be believed, quebec. sometimes though, those realities all feel more and more like tissue paper soaked in water, just waiting for a reason to fall apart

i read really quickly, it’s probably an issue, i read red white and royal blue in about an hour and fifteen minutes. neil and i. kindred spirits. today at lunch i watched the last thirty minutes of dead poets society, going back to rewatch “i was good, i was really good.” like ten times.

imposter syndrome is slowly getting the better of me.

i actually dressed up as leia for the midnight premiere of the force awakens. i’m that person. if i’d been with you in the cinema i would have cried too, you’re not alone there, i cried watching it on the floor.

i don’t deserve the nice words you give me, but i’m happy i make you feel comfy and cosy, and ironically enough, writing with a quill or fountain pen never ends in pristine and unsmudged ink, you can thank my being left handed for that. i think there’s something nice about writing with fancy pens, maybe that makes me seem pretentious as well. oh well.

as for dps tattoos, if i can ever get any tattoos, i want the neil crown, “i was good, i was really good.” somewhere, probably my wrist who knows, and some art that alludes to the first unmanned flying desk set. among others. the “and still we sleep” thought, and the outline of meeks and pitts both sound so lovely. so so lovely. i really hope you can get every tattoo you wish. although your bank account may hate me for saying so /j i want more piercings, mainly on my ears, i have something of an earring addiction, my favourite pair at the moment is probably my howl drop earrings that look like howls from howls moving castle.

honestly the outfit/hair colour distraction rule is dumb. it’s dumb. i just don’t get it. abuse of power ig. and yeah. we were like hugging and sorta just leaning on each other while talking and the administrator got angry, for whatever reason. the straight couple making out behind us, she didn’t seem to mind, however. it’s dumb, and im glad i don’t go there anymore.

im clearly very articulate today (sarcasm) my mind is ehhhhhhhhhhh and feels like a squirrel laying on its stomach.

maybe i will call you ramona flowers, bee /j did you know the original name for pac man was puck man… /j hiding in the back of the music room to avoid a maths test sounds like something i would do. i say this, knowing full well that i’m such a neil kinnie that i end up feeling like a teachers pet because i want to do well, both for myself and simply to avoid trouble with my mum.

a new york times best seller, huh? well if i ever publish anything i’ll dedicate it to you, both for being the only person who thought i could be a storyteller, but also for being a lovely person in general.

sometimes one day after another feels impossible. tomorrow feels impossible. but oh well. i think younger me would be disappointed, to some degree. on the other hand, i think they’d think it’s cool how much i know. if nothing else, they’d love that i have a typewriter. also, i’m sure young you would be proud of you, i am. i’m so proud of you.

i mean bee, i could teach you to shoot a bow /hj YOU CAN WIELD A SWORD????? here i was thinking you could not possibly get cooler or hotter omg i’m in love /hj

thank you for being proud of me, really bee, thank you. and thank you for being the only one. i’m hardly changing the world, but i guess if i don’t burn out and lose this fight, changing a few points of views in the process of growing wouldn’t be terrible.

p.s. it’s certainly something, i feel bad because i always pull away from people when i get numb and it’s so new that me doing that could be detrimental to everything, but me forcing myself not to could have a bad effect on me. who knows what’ll happen. i’m just gonna try and keep them happy no matter what.

p. p. s. bee you brought this upon yourself /lh

all my love, bee, and that pun was the out of this world part of that sentence. you’re so cute omg.

that quote is beautiful, and since i, once again, had to translate french and smile about it, i’ll leave you with this

no importa que nos separe la distancia, siempre habrá un mismo cielo que nos una.

p.p.p.s. thank you for saying what you do, and i know that i don’t owe you anything, but writing to you is easy, and makes me happy, when i manage to get myself to sit down and think about it. i’m sending you back hugs, gentle forehead kisses and mugs of tea, a soft blanket and a narnia movie marathon, where we argue about how i am definitely not better than susan pevensie, but you almost certainly might be.

i’m so happy uni is going well thus far, love. and i hope you love your classes. learning.

thank you for everything bee.

yours, always,

star✨

star sweetheart, thank you so so much, honestly. i can't tell you how much that means - i know you said not to apologise, but an apology seems in order for the lateness of this message- im terrible i know /lh thank you sm though.

i'm writing this whilst listening to one of my favourite albums (hypersonic missiles by sam fender, if you were curious) and curled up in bed, so this really adds to the comforting vibes.

i'm with you on that, boarding schools do have a certain something about them, don't they? i hope you can get to one or all of these places in your life - i can speak from experience wales is especially beautiful, but i can really see you in new york, too. wherever you end up star, i truly hope you're happy there.

an hour and fifteen mins?!!? the fastest i've read something was a clockwork orange in two and a half hours or so- you are so strong star, i've watched that film 20+ times and only watched the last half an hour maybe 4 /lh

that is SO CUTE oh my god- i will admit, for it chapter two i did channel my inner bill denbrough and wore some flannel (i luv that limbo <3)

you deserve all of these words and more, i promise you. you deserve something a lot less clumsy, but i offer you my best. left handed.. you rly are neil huh? /j

all of those ideas; absolutely lovely. the i was good tattoo breaks my heart in the best way possible. im hoping you get all of these tattoos, love. you'd suit them more than anyone, i'm sure. those earrings sound like the coolest fucking things ever? i did have a pair that had a little vodka bottle on, but i lost one in a club and haven't gotten round to replacing them. i definitely want more piercings too,, my conch is looking pretty bare as of late...

that is just. so disgusting? im so- god that makes me so angry i can't even explain. i think i should punch all homophobes straight in the mouth, actually /hj

love, i bet younger you would be so so proud of all you've achieved. from only what you've told me, i am. they'd be over the moon at how intellectual, kind and strong you are, i know it.

I CAN!!! ITS ONE OF MY MOST ESTEEMED TALENTS!!! lets make a deal. you teach me to shoot a bow, i teach you to wield a sword.. we're giving very narnia power couple if i may say.. /hj

i will always be proud of you star, for even the smallest of things you achieve. you're actively making a difference and a change, take bringing this positivity into my life for example. you've got this, star. i know you have.

ps; im wishing you all the best my love, seriously. take every day as it comes, and listen to your mind and wellbeing. im sending you so much love

pps; that quote. is so fucking cute. god im breaking down,, its so pretty and so DHJHFJKNFKKN yeah.

this is me, making you a cup of coffee and your favourite comfort meal, with a kiss on the top of the head. we will have this argument - as much as i love susan, she's no match for you <33

all of my love and happiness, star. you truly are one of a kind.

if i may, i'd like to leave you with an excerpt from a poem i saw earlier that i fell in love with;

"and you laugh. / loudly- / head tipping back. / and while your eyes / are on the ceiling, / i am mouthing / something too heavy even / for this steady night to shoulder. / "this is not a joke." i mouth. / "love me. love me." - letters from medea, salma deera

#asks <3 #anon asks!#star anon #long post

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derireo · 4 years

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Got a request! MC loves drawing and decides to draw them (and gives them the drawing afterwards) with homare, omi, hisoka, tenma, and citron please! Whew now that I got that down... I am so glad I came across your blog! You're out here serving full course meals and I applaud you for your work!! I always look forward to reading what you put out luv! ♥️

d'aw thanks anon! i try my best for y'all and only wish to give u the best of my writing so that we can all be happy! thank you again, and i hope u stay a little longer as a reader! ❤️

Homare, Omi, Hisoka, Tenma, Citron: Artist MC

Homare

Clutches his chest in shock at how pretty you made him out to be! Seriously, like– even though he does take proper care of himself and makes sure he looks nice for others to look at, his breath is absolutely taken away when you show him the drawing you made.

His eyes sparkle in amazement! He's so smitten by your talent that he's unable to say anything for a good minute or two when usually he's great at talking.

He's only able to smile at you and pull you in for a tight hug as 'thanks'.

Later at night, he's at his desk with his head in his hands while Hisoka sleeps in Azuma's bed for the night, looking for inspiration for his poems.

He's suddenly reminded of the drawing you gave him, and is given a new boost! He writes about your adorably sweet look of concentration as your pencil stroked along the fine paper; speaks about the way your tongue pokes out from your mouth and compares it to a butterfly's kiss when it licks away your tears.

In the morning, when he shows some of the members what he wrote last night, he's given a clap on the shoulder and a round of compliments.

He is especially fond of the bashful response you gave him when he handed you the paper.

Omi

He's so adorably flustered! He is sososo oblivious to the fact that he is a handsome man, and when you show him through the drawing you worked on as he cooked in the kitchen, he was shocked!

The way you accentuated his angles and prominently outlined the way his muscles bulged in his sleeves made him quite shy. He didn't know you saw him this way and it made his heart flutter like crazy. And he especially loved how you drew a little heart by his face with an arrow pointing at the scar on his chin.

Despite the bad memories that came along with the scar, he always appreciated how you'd gently kiss the rough tissue or caress it with your thumb. You let him know that the scar was a part of him that you loved dearly.

His cheeks are flushed after staring at the paper for a bit too long, and the eye crinkling smile he sends you sends a happy feeling to your stomach. His voice is quiet as he thanks you for such a nice gift, and pulls you in for a tight hug, saying how much he appreciates you taking the time to draw him and show him how he looks through your eyes.

He affectionately kisses your face, and later at night, he's seen by Taichi, slipping your simple piece of art into a laminate page protector.

Hisoka

He's a little dazed when you first try to show him, seeing as you gently tried to wake him up from his little nap on the couch. You had been sitting on the other end of the sofa when you started doing little doodles of Hisoka, some in the form of a floofy cat, and the other half in the form of a squishy marshmallow or cloud.

His eyes are half open when he takes a peek at what you're holding right in front of his face, then lets his head fall back on the couch with a yawn, sending you a surprisingly energetic thumbs up as he opens his arms up for you to crawl in.

"How long did those take you?" He'd mumble through a mouthful of your hair as he curled himself around your back, his sleepy gaze skimming over the paper as you traced an outline of one of the cats you drew.

And with how much he managed to utter after being woken up just five minutes ago, it seemed he liked what you did.

Your response makes him hum thoughtfully, and he closes his eyes again at the thought of taking any amount of time to do something.

When you offer to give him the paper full of your drawings, he only kisses your hair and nods his head before going back to sleep.

The paper is later seen hiding under his pillow when the boys are doing some Spring Cleaning.

Tenma

Pleasantly surprised and a little shy. Of course, since he's a pretty big celebrity he has seen fanart of himself many times, so he's used to it, but the way you drew him with such joy and professionalism, it was super cool.

He especially loved the way you drew his sharp eyes and toothy grin, as it gave off the vibes he always wants people to get from him. He actually didn't believe you drew him at first because for some reason, the person on the paper seemed so much more cooler than he could ever be.

His fingertips curiously traced over the deep outlines on the paper, nails dragging over the grooves and scratches made by granite and ink as you watched him with a smile on your face.

It was truly embarrassing to receive something so nice from you and he covered his mouth with his free hand to hide how truly astonished he was by your talent. His eyes darted back and forth between you and the drawing, his mind racing with gooey thoughts as you only looked at him with a curious look in your eyes.

When you tell him he can keep the drawing, his heart nearly bursts with joy, but all he can do as a response is flush a dark red and mutter under his breath about how it's embarrassing.

He takes it anyways.

Citron

The most dramatic of them all besides Homare.

"Oh, Princess! That looks elevating!" He says, with his slightly broken vocabulary. His smile was so wide that it looked like it was going to split his lips so you decided not to correct him (you didn't know what he was trying to say either).

He sits down with you on the couch with curiosity in his eyes as you explain to him what you tried to do. He noticed that you had drawn him in some traditional Japanese yukata, and marveled at all of the fine and harsher details engraved in the paper.

He's ecstatic once he finally gets a good look at the paper and stares at you with wide eyes, smiling brightly. His gentle hands hold the drawing to his chest as you offer giving it to him and he nods enthusastically. He is so honored to receive such a wonderful, beautiful gift!

"It must have taken you quite some time." He said seriously, prying the paper away from him to look at the drawing once more; seemingly in awe.

"I want to try drawing you too," he pondered after a while, holding a hand out for you to grasp, "let's go to your room! That way the other members will not disturb us!"

His enthusiasm definitely caught you off guard as he tangled your fingers together with his and immediately started to drag you down the hallway to your bedroom. Your surprised yelp received a joyful laugh from Citron as you both scurried into your room.

#citron a3!#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! imagines #a3! actor training game #omi fushimi #tenma sumeragi #hisoka mikage #homare arisugawa #a3! headcanons #yayy finally got a request done!#other requests will b done later #hopefully . . .#a3! scenarios

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olivieblake · 4 years

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Hey Olivie, New York just closed all personal care services (including tattoo shops) starting Saturday night and I've never wanted a tattoo more in my life. I'm seriously considering getting a tattoo when this is all over, and was wondering if you had any advice for us first timers. How do you decide on a design, placement, etc? Things you wish you knew going into your first tattoo appointment? Mr. Blake's joy at spending this time with you is giving me life, stay safe 💜

lol I feel this very hard, I didn’t get my birthday tattoo this year because I couldn’t decide what i wanted and I was like eh I can get it later, and now I am like, dying

okay so some random advice:

I don’t know why this is but the moment you get your first tattoo you will constantly think about what tattoos you want next. which isn’t to say that everyone gets more, but something about opening the door means you’ll have thoughts about it all the time. the reason I’m saying this is because everyone puts a lot of pressure on what their first tattoo should be (it’s almost always something you later think is dumb; not in a bad way, just in a ‘lol, past me’ way) but then the novelty wears off and you start to think of it as an art piece or item of jewelry that you get to wear all the time. at this point none of my tattoos have meaning—I just say I’m curating an aesthetic, which is what I enjoy about getting them. sometimes looking at my tattoos helps me feel like myself again, but I almost never think about what they “mean” anymore. (also, now that I have a rapport with my artist, I usually only come in with the size, placement, and a general idea of what I want. last time I said “idk, something celestial? with an ocean wave” and he drew it for me on the spot)

I like to decide where to put a tattoo by picking a piece on my body I’d like to decorate. the tattoo on my ribs has a mandala that curves around the side of my boob because it highlights a part of me I think is anatomically pleasing. the tattoo on my hip is something only a few people have ever seen (I call it my sex tattoo; did not enjoy running into an ex recently, who deliberately looked down at where it is located.) I NEVER see the one on the back of my neck, so it’s my least favorite. I constantly forget it’s there. I do try to keep myself relatively… even? in terms of placements. I have my right outer wrist, left inner arm / right hip, left rib, so in terms of composition I’m very balanced. which is why I can’t decide where to put my next one because I have to offset myself again. I’m thinking sternum, actually, but that being said…….

I don’t recommend ribs or sternum for a first tattoo (most likely the artist will try to talk you out of it anyway). it’s a different kind of pain that’s hard to sit perfectly still for, which means a higher chance of it not coming out perfectly. places that hurt include anything close to bone, because it reverberates, or near any nerves, because pain receptors. for my rib tattoo, the vibration of the gun basically reverberated through the bones of my chest, affecting my ability to breathe, which a person typically can’t sit through for more than an hour at a time. choose the size and detail of your tattoo accordingly if that’s a placement you want. places that don’t hurt much (comparatively) are back/shoulder, thigh/hip, etc. the fleshy bits!

a tattoo feels to me like a cat scratching over and over in the same spot. it’s a low level of pain at first, then you go numb after a bit and it doesn’t hurt much at all, and then, if you keep going beyond two or so hours, the pain comes back and the skin starts to sting or throb beneath the initial tattooing pain. all of it is a manageable pain, in my opinion. I just don’t want to lie to you if you have a low pain tolerance, plus that can help you figure out how much you’re willing to sit for. a flash tattoo or something fashionably dainty/linear takes less than an hour. anything with shading and detail takes probably closer to two. the tattoo on my ribs is a six hour tattoo that I did in two sessions: 4 hours to do most of the outlines and shading, 2 hours to come back after it had partially healed and touch up some of the details. I’ve never gone longer than that, and I am assuming you won’t either for a first tattoo.

eat and hydrate enough before you go in so you don’t do something stupid like totally lose consciousness or whatever, but don’t take anything for pain. ibuprofen thins your blood and so does alcohol (!! don’t drink the night before your tattoo). if you bleed more during your tattoo, your artist will have to wipe more and there’s a higher chance of something coming out badly

personally I manage pain by becoming very chatty and distracting myself talking about something dumb (usually my books—I once described the full plot of one beginning to end), so I always like an artist who doesn’t mind talking while they work. it’s kind of important to feel like you vibe with the artist, both in terms of their art and their personality, especially if you’re going to be sitting for a while. if you don’t feel comfortable asking the artist about the best placement or asking for changes to the design, that’s not the right artist for you.

I think that’s all for now. uhguhguhghghghhh what a mood, honestly. I also need my eyebrows done SO badly

#tattoos #gratuitous personal information #gratattooitous personal information #makeyourowndamnsandwich #big sistering

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margridarnauds · 5 years

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A, F, G, M, S, T, V

THANKS AVERY.

A. If you could rec a piece of music to accompany one of your fics, what would you pick? Why?

Yakety Sax for Goosefic.

Alright, seriously? It’s totally not like I have a playlist or something stored anywhere, because that would be insane, right?

Illuminated by Hurts - Ah, Ça Ira. “Time waits for no one/So do you want to waste some time/Oh, oh, oh, oh/Tonight?” AKA “Ronan realizing that he might not make it back the next day and trying to get Laz to come to bed and reconcile with him, not necessarily because he wants to SLEEP with him, but because he wants his boyfriend there with him. “Swim with your sorrows/And try delusion for a while/It’s such a beautiful lie” Lazare frantically scribbling out his justifications on the paper, even though he has to KNOW that Artois’ going to abandon him and it’s going to be worthless. “Suddenly my eyes are open/Everything comes into focus/Blinding” GENERALLY I get Laz vibes from this line, with him gradually realizing how important Ronan is to him and that some part of him WANTS the new world that Ronan was, but the last few lines also work for Ronan’s (unstated, in-text, but there in canon) decision to charge in front of du Puget, realizing that he HAS to save Olympe from being orphaned like he was.

Either Dream of Sky (Dancing Line OST) or Forbidden Friendship (HTTYD OST) - Le Cri. Both of them have that sort of tentative, new feeling where things start out so soft and with that kind of innocence but as time goes on, it becomes so much MORE.

I’ve Seen Hell (North and South OST)/Ashes (Celine Dion) - Pour la Peine. I’ve Seen Hell is one of my go-to Period Drama songs, but I LOVE how it has that bleak feel while also not being COMPLETELY bleak and miserable, there’s that idea of PUSHING through in spite of it. And Ashes also kind of has a similar vibe, as far as openly asking how...there can be any GOOD after that kind of devastating tragedy (even though a part of me will always seen Ryan Reynolds doing interpretive dancing to it, tbh). Ashes is much more...RELIGIOUS in bent than Solène generally goes with, but I think it WORKS as far as that general feeling of despair and abandonment that she starts off with “Every word shot down in flames/What’s left to do/With these broken pieces on the floor?/I’m losing my voice/Calling on you”

Wicked Game - Personally, I favor it for A Pressing Matter, though it really works for Peyronan in general. “What a wicked game/To make me feel this way/What a wicked thing to do/To make me dream of you” AKA “Peyrol’s ENTIRE thought process when he realizes that, against his own judgement, he’s gotten attached to Ronan and that that’s a MAJOR weakness.

F. What stories are you planning for the future?

I have. So many WIPS that I’m DYING to release soon. One is very obviously the Fairy Tale AU, which I’m very pumped about. There’s the one that’s just called “Madame Roland is a Lesbian” that I’m excited for. At some point, I’m going to have to expand the Abomination and the Verse it encompasses, stretching from where we start off in the Beauce in 1777 to at LEAST the early 19th century, possibly into the 1840s.

Between the Waves is going to get a LOT more added to its Verse, hopefully. I already have at least two WIPS that are partially finished and give a little bit more context to things that are happening in the next few chapters, one from Olympe’s perspective on the pre-canon events that stretches to the post, one from Artois’ on some of the events of PLP, and I either have an Afterlife AU, a Reincarnation AU, or both to wrap it up, possibly with us ending up where we began. (No, not on Marat’s printing press.) I’ve also toyed with fleshing out a little more about how Peyronan got to where we see them in A Pressing Matter, to round out the series. Either way, though, I do intend for this to end up being a VERSE, not necessarily just one or two stand-alones. There’s a lot that’s...going to pop up here or there that I INTEND at least to expand on. I rarely like to leave things HANGING like that.

There’s also the Peasant Lazare AU which, even though it’s basically a laughing stock among my friends IRL at this point, is still very important to me and I’ve never fully given it up.

I’m definitely going to expand the Ripples in the Rockpool Verse, HOPEFULLY dipping more into the historical events that are happening around this time and a little more on how the OT3 ended up where they get to be in Back on the Shore.

There’s a Vampire AU that I’ve been toying with back and forth, and I STILL haven’t given up on The Zombie Apocalypse AU, though I’d like to focus on that one more when I have a fewer WIP count and I can more thoroughly outline it. Also @lehetsz-kiraly and I have toyed around with a Superhero AU that I would 100% like to see get off the ground, and I also am totally planning on toying with the TN crossover as time goes on. I obviously have no idea....WHEN or HOW, but it’s somewhere nebulously on my To-Do list.

And, of course, the Disneyworld AU. One day, I will finish it.

G. Where do you think you grew the most this year?

Honestly, I think the drabble challenge was a GREAT opportunity to throw myself into a variety of things that I NEVER would have considered before. I’ve gone from EXCLUSIVELY writing 1789 and Irish Mythology stuff to really working with anything that really vibes with me, which has been VERY exciting. And, between Le Cri, A Pressing Matter, and Back on the Shore, I’ve gotten several things that I’ve been talking about and tossing around for YEARS on the page and out there in some form or another. I’m still going to stick around 1789, of course, that’s still my BABY, but I really got the chance to work with a lot of things I’d have never normally have thrown myself into and had the chance to toy with my style in a way that I normally wouldn’t.

M. Meta! Have any meta about a story you’re dying to throw out there?

Oh God, there’s ONE THING that I WANT to write the meta for but SPOILERS. That I don’t even know if it’s SPOILERS anymore. (I should honestly get into the habit of asking people “SO WHAT DO YOU THINK’S GOING TO HAPPEN NOW” like a thirteen year old who’s just uploaded their first Wattpad fic, but alas). But, since I’m working on PLP at the moment, have this:

No, she gets no sleep tonight, her eyes locked on the bayonets as they gleam in the moonlight. She lays and waits and thinks.

Several hours later, a shot rings out in the dark. All the demons of Hell break loose, the only thought on Solène’s mind being that of another night, another volley of shots.

They mean to massacre them all.

The Queen has changed the King’s mind again and they will all be killed.

Every part of her knows it, screaming in her mind as they make their way for the Queen’s quarters, all else, all other thoughts disappearing.

A panicked voice asks them what they think they’re doing and another voice, she doesn’t know if it’s hers or one of the women with her, replies, “We’ll cut off her head, rip out her heart, fry her liver, and that won’t be the end of it!”

They are done with this, done with the queen, and they will take whatever they can get.

They have endured too much pain at this point to just curl up and die.

This wasn’t a fight they wanted to begin, but if it was a fight they needed to survive the night, they could give it to them.

They could give and give and give as they had always done, all of their lives.

A few guardsmen try to stop them, but they disappear beneath the wave of bodies flooding the palace. One of them breaks free, runs and pounds on the door, his bloodied hand staining the expensive, gilt wood as it slams against it before he’s tossed aside. “Save the Queen!”

A door slams ahead of them as they reach the room, the room itself is deserted, except for one woman who rushes in front of them all.

“I am the Queen!”

Solène recognizes the voice even before she can see her in the light of the torches, still wearing the clothing that she’d worn the night before, and she freezes.

So, for this section, I ripped a LOT from the historical record, as far as the threats the women made on the life of Marie Antoinette, the guard slamming on the door, the shot in the dark panicking the mob, BUT I also actually did look up at least one article on mob mentality to try to understand HOW someone would get involved with something like this. And the first thing I focused on was the INDIVIDUAL getting pushed aside in favor of the group. And the main way I ended up TRYING to get that to show through was in Solène’s reaction.

At first, she starts off as a singular: “She lays and waits and thinks” “The only thought on Solène’s mind,” etc. But then, immediately AFTER that, as the panic sets in, she becomes a PLURAL, “They mean to massacre them all” “They will all be killed,” “they are done with this” “they have endured too much.” And it really reaches its height when they enter MA’s chambers, as she doesn’t even know WHO is speaking. It could’ve been her, it could’ve been the woman by her side, likewise with the guard who’s severely hurt (also, the “wave” of bodies, going back to the overall theme of water that’s there in PLP). She doesn’t know, because at this point, they’re one whole body acting out at the same time. (There’s one brief point where Solène becomes a “her” again, but it’s only to say that her brain is NOT necessarily...its usual self, “all other thoughts disappearing,” which repeats what she’d also said when the shot first went off; she’s very much acting on INSTINCT here.)

When does she become Solène again? When Olympe runs in front of her. She and Olympe are not a Thing per se, not at this point, even though Solène’s recognizing that she’s “a little bit in love with her,” but Solène does care enough for Olympe that she was able to be snapped out of it. In the chapter that I currently have sitting in my drafts and that SHOULD be published in the next day or so, there’s a bit where Olympe questions whether Solène would have continued on if she hadn’t been there. Solène says that she doesn’t know, because to HER this unlocked a part of herself that she didn’t really know was THERE, the kind of radicalism that she tends to associate with Ronan and the other revolutionaries (ESPECIALLY Maillard, who is kind of Ronan-By-Proxy here as a vanqueur of the Bastille who is ultimately ineffective when it comes to Solène’s complaints.) Personally? Even though I fully leave it up to interpretation, and everyone’s free to say “No, you’re wrong,” I wrote it with the idea that Solène probably would have done a Hell of a lot more harm had Olympe not been there.

This is also fully intended as a parallel to Peyronan. (”NO, RACHEL, PEYRONAN ARE A THING? I HAD NO IDEA! THE SPOILERS!”) Both Peyrol and Solène had the same choice in this chapter, at its core: Their goal at hand, or the person they love. Peyrol let the army and his loyalty to the Monarchy get the better of him, Ronan ended up paying the price for it, and, as we see both at the funeral and at the trial at the beginning of the chapter...Laz is BROKEN by it. Solène doesn’t realize why he’s broken and even doubts that he is, because she doesn’t have the perspective, but...LOOK at him. He is not doing Well. He didn’t gain anything from what he did. In a snap-second decision, he chose his career and decades of indoctrination over Ronan, and he ended up losing both. Solène chose to break out of it and save Olympe, even if she was personally endangered by it. It doesn’t mean that one loved their person more than the other one, but it DOES mean that they get very different results. There’s a climb to the light for Laz as well, I’m not going to just...LEAVE him, but it’s going to be much, much longer than Solène’s.

S. What’s the sexiest thing you wrote this year?

I’ll be honest: I know I have (2) Official Smut Fics to my name now, but I honestly don’t FEEL like anything I’ve written’s particularly SEXY so much as Describing Sex. This isn’t me being a Pretentious Literary Author who Does Not Write Porn, oh no; it’s that I genuinely don’t believe that what I write...qualifies as “sexy”. That being said, despite being only 100 words, “Honey Plunged Into Water” is probably the sexehiest. Which is hilarious because it’s also the kind of thing I would NEVER have written otherwise. There is one...unpublished fic for A Passage Through the Light that features Madame Roland/Marie-Anne that is....very, very gay and is probably honestly the sexiest thing I’ve ever written even without them actually doing the do.

T. Themes, motherfucker, do you have them? What are they?

Earn Your Happy Ending, the question as far as the difference between society and what someone’s been conditioned to be like VS the individual, uncertainty, unease, that question of how much you really CAN know someone else, that general feeling of the calm before (or even during) the storm and how people can find intimacy then. There’s a lot of the gothic element there as far as the past, and the people who were THERE in the past, never really being...GONE from the narrative. Like, one way or another, they have the tendency to come back, whether it’s as a literal ghost or whether it’s just their skeleton buried underneath a tree somewhere.

V. Which story was the most viscerally pleasing to write? Tell us your narrative kinks.

This is painfully predictable, but I THOROUGHLY enjoyed every second of writing Forgiveness. To this day, it’s probably the ONE piece of Peyronan stuff (besides Fowl Play!) that I’ve written where I’m, like, 95% happy with the final result, which is REMARKABLE for me. I really, really loved getting to WORK with their relationship and what makes it WORK at the heart of everything, the progression of it, the gradual increase in intimacy, the way they come to have that moment of “We’re in this one TOGETHER,” and an ending that’s HOPEFUL even though there’s still the ever-present promise of the Revolution in the background. All of that is a LOT of what I tend to like in my Peyronan to begin with, so it was really fantastic to just get that all out on the page. It’s one of those moments where I just want to gesture all over the page and go “THESE TWO LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH” even though they still have their bickering and their petty little moments.

Another one that’s a WIP but that I feel’s far enough along to actually TALK about is the Fairy Tale AU (It has a name, but I tend to feel like announcing its name is jinxing it and I DO desperately want to get it out soon) and...it’s not my usual writing style, it’s not my usual way of doing things. There are some things that I do there that I wouldn’t necessarily do in a usual, realistic fic because it’s a FAIRY TALE that’s being given the 1789 treatment. It was really, really interesting to get to work with some of my favorite fairy tales, see some of the ways they’ve been told and retold throughout the years, especially looking for the ones that focus on commoner protagonists, elements of the gothic and dark fantasy mixed in there with the light. I’m not really that USED to getting to go wild, so it’s been a lot of fun to have one project where the research is less on the minutiae of 18th century life and more on...like....the similarities between the Italian and the Breton versions of The Travelling Companion folkstory.

#janetcarter

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nickrbockr · 6 years

Text

Simon Vs Fan Fic: Chapter 2 - Drive

Ao3

Warning - Explicit Scene

“Nora, I don’t want to go to this as much as you don’t want me to go to this, but we have to go to this. Go.”

Dad was protesting with Nora as he was honest when he said he didn’t want to go. Nora is now in high school and I guess they have this new required evening orientation to meet all staff. I think it may have been a way for the administration to try to get ahead of what happened to me in high school as they try to find out a bit too much. Oops. Well, no, oops to Martin. Martin’s Oops.

Mom, the rule follower, kept telling them it was required and discussion was off the table. She also may be over correcting to be sure her youngest doesn’t have a similar experience as her middle child. It seems Alice had an average experience with high school, so Mom is going for the three bears experience for high school and ensure it’s a positive one. Nora is going to hate it.

“Si, I’m sure you’ll be okay here by yourself.” Nora said, emphasizing self portion of the word. Maybe before I told Mom and Dad about proposing, that would have got under my skin. I know the old me would have let it. But I’m not the old me. I’m Simon 2.0 with a Bram-processor. Ugh, I cheesed myself out there. Am I Dad now?

Mom looking wanting at me, begging for me to tell Nora with the slightest hint of brow furrowing and lip turning. She should have been an actress because she has subtly down to a craft. Meryl Streep herself would gracefully nod in defeat. I smile and use it an opportunity to tease Mom for torturing Nora and Dad.

“Actually, Nora,” I begin, using my stage education to not indicate, but inform. I shifted my weight on both of my legs and stuck my hands in my pocket. “there is something I want to tell you.”

Mom beamed and Dad rolled his eyes, picking up quickly what I was laying down, but not stopping me because he knew he would get to watch. Dad was not one to ruin a potentially fun joke at Mom’s expense, because much like good thoughts after tequila, they’re rare.

“O…kay?” Nora replied suspiciously, crossing her arms. Mom set down her purse to pull out her phone.

“Wow…uhm…okay…” I covered my mouth as if I was becoming emotional. I saw Dad in my peripheral stifling a full on belly laugh. “Nora…as I’ve gotten older and…” Fake blinking a tear out of my eye. “What I’m trying to say is, Mom and Dad don’t care if Bram is coming over anymore.”

Mom’s hopeful face turned into one of ‘listen here you little shit’ flat mouth expression. With a sigh, she threw her phone back in her purse.

“Bram is still in town?” Nora beamed. She was such an interesting person because Nora has known Nick and Leah for years, but she still dismisses them like they’re annoying apparitions who just won’t leave our house. Bram on the other hand. Bram just gets Nora and they have vibed ever since. Is it weird I’m kinda jealous? I had to work to get on Nora’s good side and Bram…just Bramed his way into our lives and made more than just me happy.

“He leaves tomorrow morning for a long semester. He’s telling me had to take six extra credit hours this first semester to get done on time so we may have fewer opportunities to see each other this year.”

“That’s okay, you guys are good. It’ll work.” Nora uttered quickly. I think I figured out why Nora and Bram get along. Both are introverts and both appear to be quiet until you get them around the right people.

“All of you are headed out already?”

That voice. That voice! Alice stood with a small bag on her shoulder.

“H-H-Hey! Allie!” Dad shouted. He then whispered something into her ear and she shook her head.

“Sorry Dad, mom texted me first, you have to go to this.”

“What are you doing home? Thought you weren’t going to get here till after I left?”

“I made it work, Si. This is the last year for sure we will all be able to be in the house at the same time for sure.” Alice was always traveling for her job. I was never sure what she did and she made sure to keep it that way. I think she liked the air of mystery around her person. All I know is that it had to do with IT.

With Alice and Nora here, I guess I could tell both of them now about Bram and me. Mom would certainly enjoy it and may cause her to forget to be angry at me, Dad, and Nora later.

“Well, since you are both here now. I wanna tell you both something.”

“You’re finally giving Miley Cyrus a shot,” guessed Nora.

“You’re taking my advice and wearing normal cut jeans,” assaulted Alice.

“Okay, this wasn’t a guessing game. But seriously. I just told Mom and Dad a few days ago…but…”

Why am I nervous again? Good, bubbly, positive nervous. Bram and me touching nervous.

“I’m going to ask Bram to marry me.”

Nora covered her hands with her palms and I’ve never seen her do that. Alice placed her chin on fists and smiled how Alice smiled. Mom had somehow snuck her phone out of her purse and filmed again, much to my eye roll and Dad was hoping this could get them out of going to the conference.

“No, Jack, Nora, get in the car.” Mom said through choked back tears.

“Are you staying?” I asked Alice, simultaneously hoping she wasn’t for Bram’s sake and also because I hadn’t seen her in awhile and also would love to catch up.

“No sir, I texted Bram to be sure you weren’t going to be nice and see if I wanted to stay. It’s your last night with him, I’ll go busy myself until late tonight.”

I both hate and love how close my siblings are to Bram. But damn do they all know what they’re doing.

“We’ll talk all about your proposal tomorrow morning. Besides, the less I know the less damaging I can be. Wish the same could be said about Mom.”

“You have no idea.”

Buzz.

I’m outside :)

Come on in, door’s open

Dancing ellipsis only fluttered my heart when it came from Bram.

Come out, I have a surprise.

The heart flutter evolved into a full warm dance in my chest. I opened the door and there was Bram, on the curb, leaning on his dad’s convertible with aviators that perfectly shaped his face.

“Dad let me borrow it for a few hours, let’s go for a drive, stud.”

College was so good to Bram. He started regular gym schedules Freshman year of college and hasn’t stopped. His shoulders broadened and filled with tone muscle that dripped to his firm pectorals and ended settling on his toned abs. He had the upside down triangle upper body shape and I can’t say the sentence without becoming aroused.

“Sounds good, let me tell Alice. Alice! I’m going on a drive with Bram!”

“Great cause I have to poop and I didn’t want to have to do that out okay thanks love you bye!”

Jesus, Alice. Bram must have heard because I saw his smile.

Driving down the Georgia dusk with Bram was indescribable. It was still light enough for both Bram and I to validate wearing sunglasses so we could look cool while in the car. Bram doesn’t have to try to look cool, though. He just radiates it without trying, and it’s what makes me love him even more.

The only thing that would make this drive better would be some music. I look at Bram and he immediately knows what I’m going to ask.

“Yes, pick a song.”

Is he that deep in my head already? I love you, I love you, I love you. Did you hear that? Maybe he did because he just looked at me and his lips curled slightly. Okay, Bram, I will pick a song, but something you’ve recently purchased. I go through his phone and see a band I never heard of. Okay, sounds promising. A song called Nervous Dancing? Sounds like he was thinking of me when he purchased it. I hit play.

“Oh, Nick recommended these guys to me. I kinda like em, especially the song you’re playing.”

But your eyes are dumbing me down and I can't take mine off of you

The lyrics rolled out of the speakers as the wind tussled my hair. Nick was Bram's roommate since Freshman year.

Bram came to a red light and grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. I let out slow happy exhale. This is what I want. Forever. I don’t want things like this to ever end. Light touching from Bram is willing mind control, like I can feel him ghost into my body and he moves me and I sit back and let him. I lay my head on his shoulder.

“We’ve done this three times already and this will be the last time, but it’s always so difficult to do after being here all summer with you.” Bram pined, words pouring softly into my ear.

I smile because I was thinking the same thing.

“It’s what we get for finding the person we love in high school.” I reply, sounding like the more emotionally stable one.

My view of you’s cutting through the bitter storms of the sea

“There’s not a day that goes by that don't regret that I had my stupid crush on you freshman year. I don’t care that it made me feel weird, that I didn’t know what do to with it. Simon, you’re so worth it. You were worth every ounce of my stress and figuring myself out. I don’t know if I ever told you that.”

The wind licking my face could have been the reason my eyes began to water, but come on, that’s not true. I rub my head deeper into his shoulder.

Let’s just drive I wanna see what the wind does to your hair

“You never needed to tell me that, Bram. I always felt it.” I kiss his neck and it makes him shiver and exhale in palpitations.

We drive for another ten minutes. The houses and sky are becoming darker and the sun leaves a orange-yellow lip on the horizon. Bram removes his glasses and his brown eyes find mine. Smiles grow on our faces.

“Let’s get back to your house.” He recommends.

I know I shouldn’t be, but I continue to kiss the soft skin of his neck as Bram’s musk found its way into my nose.

“Si…be careful,” He replied airly, motioning down at his jeans. I could see the outline of himself press greater and greater at his jeans, begging to be let free.

Even after all this time, it feels like a new discovery of passion each time Bram and I are able to spend time with one another. We made a system of visiting one another during the school years, but nothing is better than the summers when we’re together almost every day. Some days we do nothing, some days we do everything. I love both of those days. I love Bram Greenfeld. Soccer calves and all.

The drive home seems to take much longer. Were there this many lights? Were the roads this long and winding? I swallow saliva and anticipation. Bram licks his lips, a tell-tale sign he's feeling the same way as I do. Hunger looks the same on all faces.

We walk into the house as we kick off our shoes (Mom’s orders). I saw the deep brown eyes I fell for time and time again and it awakened a warm sensation below my stomach. He bewitched me and I was under his spell. I fell into his lips and pressed sensually against his body. My lips were able to split his and our tongues met.

That was always the first thing that got me going. I will never get sick of Bram’s kiss. I stop him before we go further (and believe me it would have) and I drag him behind me like he’s my Fay Wray and I’m climbing the Empire State building.

My room hasn’t changed much from high school. The only difference is that now I have to hide condoms and lube from Mom who, as she claims, ‘just likes to clean my room while I’m away’ as a reason to snoop. I know it’s in a loving mother sort of snoopy way, but not when you’re trying to hide your gay sex necessities from your heterosexual mother.

I shut the door and lock it, having since my sophomore year in college convinced my dad to install lockable doors. Bram couldn’t seem to wait as he already had his shirt off. The sun had set now, but light from the street creeped in through my blinds and cast light against his gorgeous frame. I couldn’t help myself when I pushed him onto my bed, but I wasn’t in control of my body, Bram was.

I straddled his lap and I could feel him pressed against my thigh, a warm, hard part of his body pleading to escape their denim prison. Bram’s pupils dilated as I kissed the skin next to his belly button and he let out a small, innocent moan. It made his penis pulsate and I saw it move slightly in his jeans. Enough is enough, it would be inhumane not to assist him in this troubled time.

I unbuttoned his jeans and carefully pulled them down as to not bend it in a hurtful way. It bobbed back and was allowed more room in his boxer briefs. I can never get over how…how do I put this in the best way possible…how god-damn big Bram is. He kicks of his jeans and I go to kiss his inner thigh just below the fabric of his underwear. While I’m doing this, I’m unbuttoning my own jeans and pull off my underwear with it as well.

“Si, get up here right now.”

Yes, sir. I shoot up and Bram sees I’m now naked except for my shirt, my own penis pointing out from under it. Bram licks his lips and commands me towards him with his eyes. I sit on the bed next to him and he pulls off my shirt.

So you know how I said Bram made a gym regimen, I didn’t want to fall behind either. I’m not the most fit, but I’m no longer the lankey teen I was in high school. My definition isn’t near what Bram’s is, but I’m happy with it and Bram loves it. He kisses my chest as I play with his penis still inside his boxer briefs. Sighs and moans escape between his lips as he moves down to my chest.

“Bram, take them off.”

He complies and they fly off the bed and now both of us are staring at one another, naked, erect. I crawl to him across the bed with my butt high in the air and stop just before my lips touch the tip. I breathe on it a few times and I can hear Bram’s moans aching for me to put my lips around it. I comply and I am able to go about half way down on it.

“Oha,” Bram whispers out as I’m moving back and forth with my head. Giving Bram a blow job always gets me hard to the point of it hurting. I love being the person doing this to him. I love that I’m the only one who ever has, and I love that I hope to be the only one who gets to. I can feel his pleasure as his body aches from it, his soft skin and muscle felt under my hands.

After a minute, I am able to get down to the base of his penis. It took me about a year to perfect, but I love doing it because every time I do, Bram makes a noise that makes me hot and sweaty and harder than ever. I come up for some air and he pushes me back onto my bed, my head on my pillows and he returns the favor. His lips and mouth are so warm and soft around my penis and I swear I could come right now if I needed to. But I would never take sex with Bram away from me. Or Bram. Or the universe.

Bram moves up to my head and caresses his tongue into my mouth and I can feel my body relax into his pleasure, his heaven he’s bringing me to. I move my hand to where I hide the lube and move it onto the bed, never, EVER stopping kissing him. When I go for the condom, Bram’s strong arm stops me.

“No. not tonight.”

No sex!? Wait, what?!

“What?”

“No condom, not tonight.”

I’ve never had unprotected sex with Bram, but…I didn’t fight his request. We’ve only been with each other and I will be asking him to marry me and I don’t want to have him wear a condom either. I want to feel Bram. I want to feel every inch of Bram inside me with no interference. Thinking about it begets pre-come and I see it glisten as it drips down onto my stomach.

“Yes. Absolutely. Bram.”

Bram bites his lip and his eyes flutter. “Say it again.”

I add more heat to it, “Bram.”

His penis jumped from arousal and I knew it had to happen. Now.

I apply lube to his hot, hard penis as he uses some to massage it around my butt hole. Bram is always good at making sure the lube is little warm in his hand before applying it, and I can feel his finger prepare it for what’s about to come. His lips returned to mine and we sat on our knees on my bed, exchanging kisses and moans between what I only know is the highest of pleasures. I would have never thought I’d feel this with a person, and Bram discovered it. We discovered it together.

“I need you. Right now. Si. I need it.” Bram stumbled out of his mouth between kisses.

I have never been harder in my life. I’m about to have bareback sex with the love of my life who I will be asking to marry me. I need it more.

“Right now. Bram, I need….Bram.”

Bram lays me down on my back and I could feel his head slowly push into me until I was encompassing half of it. He was about to pull slowly back and I grabbed his back.

“N..no, all of it.”

Bram made a worried, but aroused, but horny, but surprised, but loving face as he plunged deeper into me and the feeling was absolutely incredible. I felt his pubic hair against my butt and Bram’s eyes were beginning to roll around his head, floating in pleasure.

None of it hurt. The only thing I felt was the most connected to him I’ve ever felt. It was not longer Si and Bram. We were one. No condom, just love. Just us.

He began to thrust and the feeling of his hard penis unencumbered by latex stroke my insides. It was a feeling that was even better than all of the best sex we’ve had in the past. Our faces were one of confused pleasure as our mouths hung open and our eyebrows danced attempting to figure out how to showcase what we were both feeling.

Bram’s sweat and our mixed as he moved me close to him and increased the speed of this thrusts. His arms were behind my back and mine were wrapped around his broad shoulders. Our chests touched and created more heat and sweat and pleasure and love.

I pushed him back onto his knees, him still inside me and I began to ride him. It felt. So. Good. His faces, his lip bites, his hungry eyes and tongue. All of it made this first time without protection something spiritual.

“Si…It’s..I’m already,” Bram moaned out.

I wrapped my legs around him and tilted him back on top of me as his speed increased even more.

“Do it.” I moaned.

I couldn’t help myself after Bram nodded his head at me like it was an order.

I came. He came.

I felt him pulsate inside of me.

I felt a part of him was now a part of me.

I felt a part of me was now a part of him.

I felt we were floating. Time stopped and we shared something divine.

Maybe I’m looking into this. Maybe it was the best because our bodies knew something our hearts didn’t. Maybe it was divine because he was going to be mine forever.

Our choral panting brought us down from the divine dimension and we returned to being Bram and Simon. He went to the bathroom first and I followed with my phone, looking up how to properly ensure how to be the most sanitary now that we’re…we’re no longer needing protection. We don’t need it anymore. It served its purpose.

I flushed the toilet and Bram was half awake on the bed.

“Si. I love you. I love you so much it hurts, like I want to become a bigger person to store more love.”

I amble to him and crawl into bed. I lay my head on his chest.

“Bram, I’m so in love with you that it drives me crazy. It drives me to be a better me. I want this forever.” I tip my toe into the water of his thoughts.

“I want this forever too. You and me and…lube and no condoms.”

We both laugh as I slap him lightly on the chest. Soon after, we both fall asleep.

#love simon #simonverse #simonvs #svthsa #love #marriage #gay #gay love #simon x bram #simon spier #bram greenfeld #love simon fanfiction #love simon fic #my fic

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notgoingtohappen · 6 years

Text

Revenge, Interrupted (Part 23)

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Caroline was right.

Something had changed between her and Stefan. It was almost imperceptible; they still got along fine, they still spent the usual relationship-worthy amount of time together. Their friends wouldn’t notice, but when they were alone…

It wasn’t just her hypersensitivity. Since returning from the cabin, this entire week they had been more reserved, less talkative, more distant.

She was sitting on the couch with Elena, trying to listen to her relationship problems, but couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to Stefan.

“–and sometimes, I just want to strangle him! But then… that’s kinda hot, don’t you think? Caroline? Care!”

Caroline started.

“I knew it. Chewing your lip and staring into the distance, the sure sign you’re not listening. Not everyone’s relationship can be perfect! I told Nadia she was dead wrong, it’s Delena that’s in trouble.”

“I’m sorry, Elena. Wait, what?”

“Oh you know, our couple name. Damon and Elena, Delena.”

“No, um, the Nadia thing.”

“Nothing, she just said she got super weird vibes from you at the cabin. Asked me if you’d broken up. Something about Liam being interested in you.”

“No, of course, we’re fine…”

“That’s what I said.”

Bonnie walked in from her room and collapsed onto the couch. “What up, ladies?”

“Nothing, I just think my relationship is dead!” Elena cried dramatically and buried her face in a cushion.

Bonnie exchanged a look with Caroline. Oh boy.

“As for me, I am nervous,” Caroline added.

“Oh right, about your job tomorrow. Don’t stress, babe! You’re perfect for the job”

Caroline sighed. “I know. I just… am gonna obsess over it anyway.”

Bonnie looked around mournfully. “As long as we’re having a pity party, I’m terrified I’ll do something wrong and it’ll mess up a whole class of children and stay with them for the rest of their lives.”

“You are gonna be the best teacher they’ll ever have their whole damn lives, Bonnie Bennett.”

Elena extended an arm without raising her head and hugged Bonnie as she scooted into it.

“Are you guys sick or something?” Came a voice from above them a few minutes later.

The girls looked up wearily to find Stefan Salvatore standing there awkwardly.

“Oh look, it’s the brother. The perfect boyfriend. Blech.” Elena muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, Stefan! What did you think of your elementary school teacher? Any lasting impressions she made on you? Or any traumas associated with first grade you can recall?”

“Uh…”

Caroline had to save the poor guy. Hauling herself up, she moved to hug him, but he moved to kiss her cheek and it resulted in a really awkward dance that left her best friends snickering.

They were painfully out of sync.

“I’m uh, cooking you dinner. Because of tomorrow.” Stefan announced.

Caroline was touched. “Aw, thank you!”

Moments like these, it hurt to remember none of this was real. To see what they could have for real, but didn’t.

She followed him across the hall and to the Salvatore loft and perched on the kitchen counter, finding it had become an all too familiar spot.

Enzo and Damon greeted her distractedly from the TV and continued gaming. Stefan put some music on his phone to drown the sounds of virtual shooting out and Caroline watched him cook.

Nothing could drown out the memories of the rave from her mind. That night had been mind-blowing. It was an unfair joke on the universe’s part that what she’d told the girls a few days ago turned out to be so completely true: Stefan was the best sex she’d ever had. He made her feel things no other guys had, so easily it seemed almost too natural. Caroline couldn’t get it out of her head for too long, no matter how hard she tried.

She was over being mad at herself for it, though. Now she just had to focus on acting normal with Stefan. On both sides; alone and in front of the others.

It was going to be over soon, she kept telling herself. She wasn’t sure the thought brought more relief or heartache.

“How cheesy do you want the pasta?” Stefan asked.

“Did you say pasta, mate?” Came Enzo’s voice.

“Yeah, but I only made enough sauce for two. Sorry.” Stefan called back.

“Ugh. Pause the game, Enzo, I’m going to order some pizza.” Damon stalked into view holding his phone to his ear, glaring at Stefan.

“Chill out, Damon. He’s just being a good boyfriend” Caroline playfully raised her leg to stop Stefan when he passed by her. He turned to her with an easy smile and she rested her arms on his shoulders, nudging him closer to the counter with her legs. His hands moved to rest on her waist and he kissed her forehead gently.

She swallowed. She was expecting a normal kiss, and this threw her.

Fortunately, Damon and his grumbling came to the rescue.

“Do you two really need to flaunt your perfect relationship in our faces all the time? Some of us have actual problems, you know. I could throw up. Enzo, tell Steffy I could actually throw up.”

Enzo came into view and grabbed a bit of cheese. “Sorry, guys. I think he’s having some relationship problems with El–”

“Shut up, Lorenzo!”

Enzo raised his hands in defeat and swirled a finger near his ear, signalling that Damon had lost it.

Well. Caroline could have predicted that the day they met.

“I blame you four for setting such annoyingly high relationship standards that Elena gets mad at me for everything.”

“Just go talk to each other maybe?” She suggested.

“We just end up having sex,” Damon said glumly.

Stefan pursed his lips with a look that was a mixture of both disinterest and defeat and then went back to cooking.

“Extra cheesy,” Caroline whispered to him. “What the hell, treat yo self, right?”

Damon glowered. “That’s not a problem for you two, is it? I mean both the cheesiness and the sex. The last place I expected to find you drunk Hufflepuffs was upstairs in one of the rooms, but…”

Despite her best efforts, Caroline blushed.

“Back off, Damon.” Stefan snapped, noticing how visibly uncomfortable she was.

“Talk to your girlfriend instead of being a baby,” Enzo said helpfully.

“And we are Gryffindors! Or maybe Ravenclaws.” Caroline added.

“I never figured out which I am,” Enzo muttered.

~*~

Caroline couldn’t stop giggling.

“Candles? Seriously?”

“It’s what I’d do at this point in a relationship, especially on a special occasion,” Stefan said simply.

“Okay, then, I will dress appropriately for your fancy candlelight dinner and be right back.” She laughed and made her way back to her loft.

“Come on, no need” Stefan called after her, but no way was she letting an opportunity to dress up like this go. This was so unnecessary and fun. And cute. None of her exes had ever done stuff like this. But Stefan… it had only been a few weeks and he remained perfect. It was unbelievable. Who wouldn’t want him for real, brooding and messed up exes and all?

“Don’t you look cheerful. Going out?” Bonnie asked from the couch as Caroline walked to the door in strappy heels, eyeing her black gown and elegantly pinned up bangs.

“Nope, candlelight dinner courtesy of Stefan.”

Bonnie smiled. “Have fun!”

Stefan’s eyes widened slightly when he saw her. She’d never get tired of that reaction, she thought happily as she sat down on the chair he pulled out.

She grinned and then raised her eyebrows at him.

He didn’t look too bad himself. Oh, who was he kidding, she was probably mirroring his expression. Stefan Salvatore in a suit made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling anymore. Or at all. Ever.

“Well as long as we were both committed to the fanciness of tonight,” Stefan explained. “Damon’s sulking in his room” he added quietly.

Caroline nodded.

Honestly, they could probably go on like this for months. They were friends, allies, and it’s not like that much had changed. They hadn’t kissed since they’d got back, and they didn’t even have to talk about what had happened again. It was like they both wanted to forget anything that hadn’t been part of the plan. It was better that way. Everything was fine.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Stefan asked her as he handed her a glass of wine. They’d agreed it wasn’t hard liquor and wouldn’t do any harm.

“A little… okay yes. I want to make a good first impression, get along with the others, prove myself, you know?”

He looked thoughtful. “You’ll be great. Just relax today, get a good night’s sleep.”

She couldn’t help but stare at the shadows the candlelight cast upon his angular face.

“This is amazing,” she exclaimed as she tried the pasta. “Why aren’t you a chef again?”

“Thank you. Why aren’t you an actress again?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“The career options are unlimited” Stefan sighed.

“A true power couple.”

Once they’d polished the food and wine and were about to go chill in her loft, Stefan suddenly told her to wait and ducked into his room.

He came out carrying a small velvet box.

“Almost forgot about this.”

Caroline froze. Her heart literally stopped. Marrying a guy this perfect was the dream, and she’d gladly marry Stefan Salvatore (it would certainly fix the problem of her feelings for him being real), but they were too young, they’d just met, and really what the fuck.

Stefan stopped in his tracks when he saw the look on her face.

“Stefan, we’re fake dating, no one said anything about marriage!” She hissed, finding her voice once she saw the ridiculous look on his face.

Stefan looked like a confused puppy, and Caroline felt an instant rush of endearment. Damn it.

“What? No… that’s not… Caroline, it’s a gift I got for you.” He gave the box to her and she opened it curiously, and what the saw took her breath away.

It was a pendant, simple yet beautiful. A deep blue star outlined in silver. The gleaming stone looked like lapis lazuli, and the faint patterns under its surface only added to its charm.

“Oh my god. It’s gorgeous. Thank you, Stefan.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. It reminded me of you. Plus, you know, big gesture and all. You said to take care of it.”

Caroline’s heart sank as realisation dawned on her.

Of course that’s what it was.

Before she could collect herself and say something about going to go sleep, the door burst open and in the doorway stood a very determined looking Elena Gilbert.

“Salvatore!” She called out. “We need to talk!”

Enzo emerged from Damon’s room and on seeing Bonnie hanging behind in the hallway, made a speedy exit with her to god knows where. Their beloved diner, probably.

Elena’s gaze landed on the couple standing in the living room. “Oh hey, Stefan. I didn’t mean you. Aw, you guys look pretty. Wait, is that a–”

“Pendant!” Caroline held the box up quickly.

“It’s so cute!”

“Like hell, we need to talk.” They turned to find Damon standing in his doorway. The couple was facing off from opposite ends of the living room and Caroline and Stefan exchanged a look that clearly said ‘run’.

“Stefan, let’s go to my room. I can thank you for this properly.” Caroline winked hurriedly, well aware of how comical it would have looked, and practically dragged Stefan to her loft.

They collapsed against the closed door, safely away from what was going to be a messy fight.

Caroline ducked into the bathroom to change into her pyjamas and washed the makeup off, running her hands through her hair to loosen the pinned locks.

The sight of Stefan sitting on her bed and smiling at her as she got in next to him, made her heart flip-flop against her will.

“So I’m going to sleep now. Feel free to crash here if you want to avoid, you know.” Caroline pulled the comforter over her shoulder.

Stefan took off his shoes and got in beside her. “Okay, thanks.”

When she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, Caroline told herself it had nothing to do with habit. She didn’t prefer to sleep next to him. She wasn’t that far gone.

~*~

When Caroline woke up, Stefan was gone, but she didn’t dwell on it. All her thoughts were focussed on her first day of work.

She grabbed a piece of toast, quickly hugged the girls, and rushed, determined not to be late.

~*~

The day went by smoothly.

Caroline had gotten along with the other two assistants, a goth-looking young woman and a blonde guy, just fine. Her boss and her other co-workers seemed nice enough, and the work looked interesting. The girl had shown her around the place and explained her job to her, and by late afternoon, Caroline was free. Her work hours weren’t that long. Plus, it was the first day, and she just had to shadow them.

Once she was home, she watched some reality TV with Bonnie until she left for Enzo’s for the night, and then Caroline was alone with the daunting task of cooking dinner for herself.

Suddenly, a much better alternative presented itself to her. She dialled Stefan’s number.

“Hey, wanna check out that diner? I wanted to get some dinner.”

It wasn’t too much, she told herself. Friends went for night-time walks to eat meals outside all the time. She may feel more for him because of their messed up situation, but they were still friends, and that’s what his presence was for her.

She kept telling herself that.

#steroline #steroline fics #steroline fanfiction #ri #*attempts to move the plot along*#caroline getting too dependent on stefan and enjoying the relationship too much #stefan acting like a husband and enjoying the relationship too much #them refusing to acknowledge what happened and how it changed things #its all gonna blow up #:-)#also I imagine the pendant to resemble her daylight ring #stefan gave that to her too :'

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