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the-rad-pineapple · 3 years ago

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i want u

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Supernatural oneshot: After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things go back to normal between Dean and Cas. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions are confirmed when Cas comes back and doesn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things go back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

Words: 2.7k

I’ve been writing angsty stuff for my current WIP, but then I had an angsty day and needed something sweet. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Inspired by Violent by Cummrs

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ao3

fanfiction

wattpad

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Today is one of the best days ever. Sam married Eileen. Dean cried. Multiple times. He ate too much at the reception and got a little tipsy. His best man speech rocked, though. Sam and Eileen left ages ago. They’re having their honeymoon in California. Dean can’t be happier. Everyone left a couple hours after them. The last people to leave were Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Jack.

Now Dean and Cas are sitting against the empty wall of the dirty dance floor. Music is still playing, and it echoes across the empty room, making the moment feel ethereal. Miscellaneous wedding decorations and napkins litter the floor. A lone broken high heel lays near the edge of the dance floor. Dean takes a swig of a champaign bottle and passes it to Cas. Cas doesn’t have his shoes on for some reason. He said it was easier to dance without them or something. He takes a drink from the champaign bottle. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned a few buttons on the top. His suit jacket disappeared hours ago. His hair is messy. He looks so good as a human. Cas hands the bottle back to Dean.

Dean takes it and stares at the empty floor in front of them. “This is the best day ever,” Dean decides. He takes a drink and hands the bottle back to Cas.

Cas hums. “It is one of the best I’ve ever had,” he agrees and takes a long drink.

“Mmhmm.” Dean leans his head against the wall and stares at Cas. The singular white light in the center of the ceiling casts long shadows on Cas’ face, making his face full of dark, sharp angles. It reminds Dean of the Cas he met in a barn over a decade ago. Dean lets the nostalgia wash over him as he stares at his best friend. Cas takes another drink from the champaign bottle and swallows. It’s really distracting, especially when Cas has his shirt unbuttoned like that.

After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things went back to normal between them. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions were confirmed when Cas came back and didn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things went back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

And Dean doesn’t really care. It hurt at first, but that was eclipsed by the ecstasy of having Cas back. He’ll take Cas in any way he can get. Angel. Human. Friend. Lover. Anything. Just as long as Cas is here and safe.

Cas hands the bottle back to Dean. Dean finishes it and sets the empty bottle down beside him. They don’t really have a reason to stay here anymore. It’s also getting late. And Dean is tired. They should go back to their hotel. Jody booked everyone a room at the hotel nearby as a wedding gift.

“I don’t want to move,” Cas says.

Dean chuckles. “Me neither.”

A comfortable silence lapses between them. The music is still playing. Dean closes his eyes.

“Dean.”

“Mmm,” Dean answers.

“I don’t want to move, but I also don’t want to sleep here.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his eyes and looks at Cas again. Cas is staring at him. Dean smiles. “What?”

Cas’ smile turns sad. “Nothing.” He looks away. “I suppose we should stand up now.”

“I suppose.”

Cas sighs and tugs his shoes forward. He slowly puts them on and ties them. Dean watches. Cas’ hands work carefully and precisely. Cas’ hands look soft. He finally stands up and looks down at Dean. He offers Dean a hand. Dean grabs it and stands up. Cas releases Dean’s hand, and Dean wishes he didn’t. Dean doesn’t want this moment to end. He likes being near Cas, and he knows once they get to the hotel, they’ll separate. It’s clingy as shit, but it’s how Dean feels. And he can’t do anything about that, can he?

He used to shove down those thoughts and feelings like they were something toxic. But, over time, he stopped doing that. He’s not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s just getting more comfortable with himself. Maybe he just doesn’t care enough to push them away. Maybe he’s just getting old. Maybe it’s all of those things. Dean doesn’t really know. And he doesn’t really care.

Cas smiles sadly at him again and turns away. Cas does that a lot now. Smile sad. He’s done it ever since he got back from the Empty. Dean thinks Cas misses being an angel.

Dean follows Cas down the short hallway and out into the parking lot. The Impala is the only car left. The summer air is warm and humid. The stars twinkle above them. Dean reaches into his pocket and grabs his keys, already missing today. It was so blissful and happy. Dean’s still adjusting to not feeling completely shitty all the time, let alone happy. It’s nice but also kind of weird.

They both head over to the Impala, and Dean unlocks it. They get inside. Dean turns the radio on to a low volume. The streets are practically empty, and the drive back to the hotel is relaxing. He also enjoys Cas’ presence, even if they’re both too tired to say anything. Just being around Cas makes Dean content.

They pull into the hotel parking lot and get back outside. The night air is peaceful, and Dean stands for a moment to feel it. He’s happy. Really happy. And so is Sam. They somehow did it. Part of Dean is convinced this must be a dream or something.

“Dean?”

Dean turns to look. Cas is standing in front of him, the lights from the hotel outline him. He’s so pretty. “Sorry,” Dean says. “Just don’t want this day to end, you know?”

Cas smiles. This time it isn’t sad. “Me neither.”

An idea pops into Dean’s head. “Wanna watch a movie in my room? We got the fancy tv’s here.”

Cas’ smile grows. “I would like that.”

Dean smiles back. “Awesome.”

----

Dean picks the first action movie he sees. He and Cas are sitting on his bed. Their shoulders are touching. It would take barely any effort for Dean to rest his head on Cas’ shoulder. He doesn’t.

Not even halfway through the movie, Cas starts to fall asleep. It’s selfish, but Dean doesn’t wake him up. He’ll take as many moments as he can with Cas. Besides, Dean will wake him up once the movie is over. But Dean doesn’t count on drifting off himself.

“Dean.”

Dean jerks awake, immediately on alert. He doesn’t have a gun on him, and he goes rigid.

“Dean,” Cas says again, gently.

Dean blinks and blows out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Oh, that’s right. They’re fine. They’re in a hotel. Sam got fucking married today.

Cas continues, “I think we missed the movie.”

Dean chuckles and looks over to him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Cas looks sleepy. His eyes are half open and his hair somehow got messier. His clothes are wrinkled, and he has a dazed smile on his face. He’s gorgeous.

Dean smiles. “You can stay here if you want, sleepyhead.”

Cas lifts his head up from where it was resting against the wall. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. You never are.”

Cas smiles at him again. But it’s one of the sad ones. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” They stare at each other. The longer it gets, the more awkward it is, but Dean can’t look away. To break the silence, he says, “I can take the couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

They stare at each other again, but Dean is too tired to care. He closes his eyes.

A few moments pass before Cas says, “We can share the bed if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dean cracks his eyes open. “Yeah, okay.” He ignores how his heart jumps in excitement. They’re not even going to do anything, and he’s elated. Dean kicks off his shoes and automatically starts unbuckling his pants and freezes. “Is it okay if I don’t have pants on?” He glances at Cas.

Cas is already halfway under the covers. His eyes flick over Dean’s body. It’s so fast that Dean thinks he makes it up. “Yes, that’s fine,” Cas answers.

The mental image of Cas checking him out—real or not—makes Dean blush, and he quickly looks away and finishes taking his pants off. He shuts down every dirty thought he gets in the process; it’s easier than it usually is since he’s so damn tired.

Dean turns to Cas, and Cas is definitely staring at his bare legs this time. “Can I turn the light off?” Dean asks.

Cas’ eyes snap up to meet Dean’s. “Um, yes.” His cheeks turn pink.

Dean stares for a second and then realizes he’s probably making things worse by staring and quickly looks away at the lamp on his bedside table. He hits the switch and slides underneath the covers. He can feel Cas’ body heat next to him and forgets how to breathe. The temptation of having the one thing he wants most in the universe right next to him is too much. He’s tense and as close to the edge of the bed as he can be without falling off. Dean is wide awake now. He doubts he’ll get a wink of sleep.

Cas shifts beside him, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. Thankfully, Cas doesn’t seem to notice. Cas’ breathing evens out. Dean closes his eyes and focuses on the sound. He wants this so fucking bad it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut harder when he feels the pin-prickle of tears forming. He won’t cry. Not on a good day like today. He spent way too many nights drinking and crying himself to sleep when he thought Cas was dead forever. He won’t do that when he has Cas literally right next to him. Dean swallows down the lump forming in his throat. As sleep tugs at his mind and consciousness begins to fade, he can’t help but think, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I think it’s killing me.

----

Dean wakes up, and he can’t remember where he is. He knows it isn’t the bunker. He feels a body next to him. He’s not even fully awake, and he can’t bring himself to remember who he’s in bed with. Damn. It’s been a while since he’s had a one-night stand. Loneliness stabs him in the chest, and he shifts towards the warmth of the person beside him. He reaches on arm out, and touches their back. He snakes a hand around their waist and pulls himself against them. Dean feels them begin to stir.

“Shh, go to sleep,” he murmurs.

That seems satisfactory, and they relax. They interlace their fingers with the hand Dean has draped over their waist. Dean pulls them closer. He’s so fucking needy and lonely. He wishes he was holding Cas. He pretends he is.

----

Dean’s pillow feels weird. It’s lumpy but soft. It’s very warm. It also smells like Cas. Which is also weird. Why does his pillow smell like Cas? Cas is dead. But, no. No. Cas is alive. He has been for months now. Dean just forgets when he wakes up sometimes.

Dean keeps his eyes closed as he rests. Any second he’s not fully awake is a good one. Dean then realizes his pillow has a heartbeat. Dean’s pillow might not be a pillow. He’s lying on someone. Someone who smells like Cas.

Dean’s heartrate spikes, and he jerks his head up.

Cas blinks up at him. “Are you alright?” Cas asks, his voice deep with sleep. Well, deeper than usual.

“Yes,” Dean says. “I just forgot you’re alive.”

Cas blinks again. “Oh.” He reaches up with one hand and cups Dean’s face. “Well, I’m alive.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Cas smiles back. It’s the brightest smile Dean’s seen on him since he’s been back. But then it turns sad. Like it always does. Cas starts to pull his hand away, but Dean quickly grabs it. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing; he’s still not even fully awake. Dean closes his eyes and leans further into Cas’ touch, keeping his hand on Cas’. He doesn’t want Cas to move away.

Cas’ breath hitches. “Dean,” he begins.

And Dean can tell by Cas’ tone that he is going to tell Dean to let go or something. Dean doesn’t want that. “Shh,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Cas says more firmly and tugs on his hand. Dean doesn’t let go. “Don’t do this.”

Dean opens his eyes. Cas’ smile is gone, and all the sadness has moved to his eyes. “Do what?” Dean asks.

“I know you’re doing this just because of what I told you before the Empty took me.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t feel obligated to…to sleep in the same bed as me or hold my hand like this just because I love you.”

“What?”

The hurt in Cas’ eyes throws Dean off so much that Cas manages to snatch his hand back.

Dean stares. Then swallows. “I thought I made that up,” Dean whispers.

“Made what up?”

“That you—that you…” Dean swallows again. Why is his mouth so dry? “That you lo—” His voice cracks. He furiously blinks back tears. “You said that, right?”

“You don’t remember?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I do, I just…I thought I made that up. Because I—I want…” He licks his lips. “I want you.”

Cas stares at him with wide eyes.

Dean’s blood runs cold. “Wait, am I completely misinterpreting this, oh my god, Cas, I’m so sor—”

“You want me?” Cas is still staring. His eyes still wide with disbelief.

Dean’s already gone this far. There’s no turning back now. Might as well tell Cas everything. “You’re all I ever wanted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Absolutely not!” Dean is just as surprised at his outburst as Cas is. He takes a deep breath before continuing, much calmer this time, “Cas, I have a hard time saying, ‘I love you’ to Sam. Why would I ever say that to you unless I completely mean it?”

“You didn’t say, ‘I love you,’” Cas tells him. “You said, ‘I want you.’ There’s a difference.”

That stubborn motherfucker. But Dean can be stubborn right back. This will show him! “Well, I love you. So there,” Dean states, staring at Cas to challenge him on that.

“Oh…” Cas’ gaze becomes distant.

“Yeah, not so fun being on the receiving end of a love confession, is it?”

Cas is unresponsive.

Uh, oh. Dean cups his face with one of his hands. “Cas, buddy, look at me.”

Cas’ eyes finally focus on Dean. “Y-yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yes,” Cas repeats.

Dean leans in and gently presses his lips against Cas’. There’s a moment where neither of them move, as if what they’re doing isn’t real, but then Cas’ mouth opens up under Dean’s, and Dean moves in closer. He still has one hand on Cas’ face and moves it back to tangle in his hair. Dean allows himself to get lost in the kiss. It’s slow and gentle and even better than anything he dreamed a kiss could ever be. It’s all Cas, Cas, and more Cas, and Dean’s heart is soaring. He pulls back just far enough to whisper, “I love you so much.” before kissing Cas again, a little more desperately this time.

Dean isn’t quite sure how long they do this; kiss each other stupid with their bodies pressed into each other, but he treasures every second of it.

This day is somehow even better than yesterday. And, who knows? Tomorrow might even be better than today. But one thing Dean knows for sure is that they have all the time in the world, and he’s not going to waste a single minute.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #fix-it fic #post-canon #angst #pining #first kiss #sharing a bed #happy ending #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #wattpad

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berena-cpr · 3 years ago

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Unfinished Masterpieces - Fic Rec List

Remember the WIP on ao3 you can’t let go? The one that resonated with you? The one that you’d give anything to know how it ends?

While the Berena Creative Project Resuscitation event is all about starting to work again on projects sitting in our draft folders, life can get in the way of finishing a project for a hundred reasons.

These works, posted, but still a few chapters short of ending, are loved though and with this list we’d like to share the love for the unfinished masterpieces one can find in the Berena tag on ao3.

Given the high response we had when we asked to tell us about your favourite WIPs, you’ll find the list under the cut:

Anything Else to Declare? - LittleMissO

“I've personally had sleeping issues since I read LittleMissO's Anything Else to Declare because yeah, I'm still there, breath held and heart pounding like crazy after the most delicious slow burn, and pining, and that outrageously flirtatious conversation over a whiskey.”

that line between your heart and mine - ktlsyrtis

“it is just plain hot but also I love the idea of them writing letters to each other and I also love the exploration of what their relationship might be like with Bernie still being in the RAMC.”

you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) - bonnissance

“A wonderful, emotional angst filled fic, looking at how Bernie’s life might still have progressed after Serena left. I loved how it showed her testing her own boundaries to see if it was possible to find another relationship with someone else and when she found that wasn’t something she could do, she accepted it and found other ways to be happy without Serena. I reread it fairly often because although unfinished it doesn’t ever seem incomplete. But the last word “Serena” always leaves me full of a hope that I would dearly love to have fulfilled.”

Secrets in the Dark - Wonko

“I’d love to see this continued!”

For a Good Time Call - Regency

“Young Serena using that pure sex voice of hers to make a little extra as a phone sex operative, and young nervous Bernie taking the first tentative steps in exploring her sexuality. Who better than Serena to help her figure things out? The premise of the fic is ingenious, the writing amazing, the dialogue just outstanding. Hot, sexy, soft and full of compassion and feels. I would sell a kidney to read the next chapter to this – Bernie and Serena meeting years later and recognising each other’s voices.”

you're the only one I never looked for - gutsandglitter

“Never expected I'd enjoy a Baby Boom AU, but I love this fic. Serena hanging out in the country feeling extremely overwhelmed and constantly running into this weird tall, awkward woman named Bernie is a mood. I will forever hold out hope for an update so that I can someday read about them having lots of sex (after an appropriate amount of angst, miscommunication, and unexpected grocery store encounters, of course).”

Things Kayryn doesn't write - Kayryn

“So they’re not exactly unfinished, because they are complete, beautifully crafted, amazingly inventive, head canons, but they’re not completed fic’s so I’m counting them. I actually think that’s one of the lovely things about them, there’s a full story in there but enough space in them to bring your own imagination to the details. The fact that every head canon is spot on and you can completely image it happening is the icing on the cake, and the perfect characterisation is the cherry on top. Canon could have taken lessons from from Kayryn”

I Want to be Your Fantasy (Maybe You Could Be Mine) - Regency

“I just love the concept and the first chapter just pulled me in and I so very much want to know what happens next.”

Notting Hill - Bat_and_Breakfast

“All the “Rom Com idiots in love but they don’t know it miscommunication capers” re-envisaged for Berena you say? Sign me up! I love the way the plot of Notting Hill is absolutely recognisable, but never at the expense of Bernie and Serena’s characters. Everything they do, their responses, the dialogue, is so them. And the cleverly cast Holby regulars as supporting stars - genius. It’s an absolute triumph of transformative work. It’s wonderfully and engagingly written. If you’ve ever got sucked into watching “just a bit” of rom com and found you’ve just lost a couple of hours of your life - this fic does the same thing.”

Follow Me There - troiing

“Full disclosure: I’ve never watched Sanctuary and I know nothing about the characters. But this crossover fic is so good, that it doesn’t even matter.”

hold me closer (tiny dancer) - serenacampbell

“I don’t know why I’m so attached to that fic, but I am. I love the premise of a slow burn fic where the characters still get to do sexy things during the awkward slow burn oblivious period. It’s like the best of both worlds.”

Machu Pechinku - Jrnsaxa

“Forget France and Nepal, what if Serena spent her sabbatical in Peru? The setting in this is beautifully vivid, as is the the delicate ways in which Serena and Bernie start to reconnect after Elinor.”

Hello, Major - lesbianquill

“This is a near perfect Serena being fixated on Bernie in fatigues fic. The first chapter is very insightful, helping us to understand why Bernie might not be happy to accede to Serena’s small kink/obsession. That of course doesn’t last for too long because Bernie loves Serena and she loves having sex with Serena. It was offered as a smutty one shot, but then they rewarded us with an even smuttier second chapter and teased us with the news that a third chapter would be forthcoming. It never happened. Main reason for wishing it could be continued? I enjoy well-written smut.”

In the Spirit of Three Stars - alwayssomethingelse

“Bernie and Serena as Federation officers on Deep Space Nine. Oh, the potential!”

Anatomically Correct - phantomunmasked

“Bernie severely overcompensating for any possible awkwardness in their first time by ordering a mountain of sex toys is a premise that will always delight me. Every time I go back to this one, I ponder what their weekend away would bring with a big grin.”

The Clinic - RexWolfe

“Maybe it’s all the Bramwell we’ve been watching, but this one’s been on my mind lately. Can’t go wrong with a Victorian AU.”

a life in pictures - Regency

"I soooo want to see Serena maybe modelling for Bernie (or at least just how the date goes)”

working up a storm inside my head - sevtacular

“While this isn’t actually an unfinished fic in the sense of chapters missing, the prompt fic collection of Sev can always be added to as far as I’m concerned. Love what has been written so far, hope there will be new chapters with time.”

Body and Soul - ChalkHillBlue

“Possibly the weirdest AU idea ever, this body swap AU makes my brain go crazy with the possibilities every time I read it.”

When We Need One Another The Most - Whispersmummy

“I know this isn’t strictly Berena but it wouldn’t have been written if not for the Berena fandom who love most every conceivable way these two dorks might get together. Very well written (imo) and cleverly constructed fic. Lots and lots of angst and who doesn’t love angst? Only thing missing is a small amount of smut. (Yes I’m back there).”

Ring In The New - fiveroundsrapid

“Fics where Bernie comes to Holby before/during Adrienne’s illness are my kryptonite, and this one is so good!”

Holby One: A Star Wars AAU Story - elitryalittle

“Holby One is my favorite unfinished fic. It’s not just because I came to Berena via Star Wars (a bit of an unusual way, but here I am), but also because I can totally see Serena as a healer and Bernie as a Jedi knight. Kudos for their excellent knowledge of the SWU and this great idea of a crossover fic. I’d give them a limited edition “Looking for Leia” patch and a sticker if they’d finish it.”

to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh) - bonnissance

“The photographer/model AU you never knew you needed in your life, but you really, really do.”

Heroic Endeavor - Nicolaruth27

“I never would’ve thought I’d be down for a Greek god AU, but this fic has permanent residence in a corner of my brain. Bernie as Athena in mortal form is inspired, and the way the fic is interwoven with canon is a delight.”

what a lovely way to burn - ktlsyrtis

“I just love anything that's weaved into canon but with them being happy and dating and communicating."

Love, Unexpected - Igerna

“Bernie is still married to Marcus when she meets Serena during a conference. They immediately bond and keep in contact, sharing both professional advice and thoughts on their private lives. Love, for them, happens rather unexpectedly. I do love conference fics and slow burns - and this is a good one.”

a little less war torn - kitnkabootle

“The setup for this - in which Serena is the one who goes to help when Bernie is brought to Holby, instead of Raf - is one of my favorite ‘what ifs’ to ponder, and the writing is outstanding.”

#berena #bernie wolfe #serena campbell #holby city #berena cpr #fic rec

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jenivi7 · 3 years ago

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writing tag game!

Thank you @clyde-side and @bdeblueyes for the tag!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22 plus a small handful on ff.net that I still intend to move over to AO3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

30,445! I’m surprised it’s that much considering how short most of those stories are. (And it’s a little deceptive since it doesn’t include the 80k monstrosity that is Ryou and the Thief. That one’s probably going to stay on ff.net though.)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Those Things He Keeps for Himself (Total agreement. Personally I think this is the best thing I’ve written so far.)

Human (Was at #1 until very recently! I attribute this entirely to the story being on @shinayashipper’s Rivalshipping Rec List. Thank you Red! <3 )

Black (From when I wandered into Homestuck fanfic for a brief time! I’m still stupid proud of this one though.)

Ghosts, Goths and Other Anxieties (original short story) (I swear I’ll get back to posting the big bang version soon)

Finality (This one’s so old but I guess people still like their tendershipping! I mean, same~)

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do try to respond to everything! I so appreciate when other authors respond to me and do my best to return that good good energy. Also I genuinely like chatting with people (especially about something I wrote lol) even if I get overwhelmed sometimes and can be slow ^^;

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

This is a tough one cause when I start a story, it’s usually with the goal of giving the characters a happy end but it’s probably Coffee and Cigarettes. It was for a pairings competition where the random pairing was Mana/TK Bakura and I gave them a weird little break in the middle of canon where they both know what’s about to happen and it just came out sad. NO WAIT I’M WRONG. Lol I just gave my story list another look and it’s definitely Crazy for You! That was an insane asylum AU that’s ABOUT everything going straight to shit.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Oh goodness, almost all of them! I love a happy ending. Like, the story doesn’t have to be all fluff, it can have an impossible looking problem or be about two people who just don’t go well together but I love a good, satisfying resolution. Most recent happy ending is No Betting, just a bit of adorable, domestic, peachshipping fluff. Favorite happy end is probably A Million Missed Chances, Mai/Valon. I feel like Mai is a challenging character to give a happy ending to. She’s just stubborn like that <3

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

So, I haven’t written a crossover yet by myself but @miss-moberg and I will often throw around ideas for ones where we will use YGO characters or parts of the world building or magic system to fix things we don’t like in other canons. Right now we have a RP that’s a BNHA/YGO crossover where… oh, spoilers for BNHA: instead of going crazy and faking his own death, Toya grabs both his brothers and just fucking leaves. They run away to Domino, get picked up by Ryou and Akeifa (TK Bakura) and it quickly becomes the found family story I didn’t know I needed. We do some wild things blending the two canons. Domino is this little pocket where shadow magic keeps the hero and villain nonsense out and the citizens are pretty ok with it. Yugi and Atem are the city’s guardians. Ryou and Akeifa are not allowed to use shadow magic though they have access to it. I think Ryou and Yugi had proper quirks that they sacrificed to the shadows at some point, each for something different thing that they wanted or needed. Oh! We have quirks being derived from shadow magic at some point in the distant past and the shadows are always happy to take a quirk back to fulfill a wish or desire. They’re tricky though and usually corrupting. Very classic fairytale where it’s a thing you don’t want to make a deal with. Seto is quirkless and basically runs the city behind the scenes. He can’t deny the existence of heroes and villains but still refuses to believe in magic. This always gives Atem a headache when they have to coordinate to protect the city. Which is often.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

A couple criticisms but no outright hate I don’t think. Or if I have it was so long ago I don’t remember. I was on ff.net at the worst times too and somehow all the hate just passed me by.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I love smut so much but I rarely write it. For stories I just usually end up with one or two erotic sentences. RPs are the exceptions to that though and are where all the good stuff happens. >.>

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. Haven’t had one stolen, haven’t had one taken down. I’ve stayed small enough to fly under the radar for both things luckily enough!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I wish! Man that would be amazing <3

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Ryou and the Thief is a cleaned up version of @miss-moberg and my very first RP. (And the only RP of ours to ever hit an actual ending.)

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Puzzle with Gemshipping very close behind though I ship many, many things.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Phoenix. It was one of my very first fanfics started almost 15 years ago and while I’d love to finish everything, that one’s just not going to happen. It’s been too long and I’ve grown way too much as a writer to go back to it now.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think it’s dialogue. And maybe the ability to be amusing. Not funny-funny but like, lightly humorous when setting scenes or winding up to something.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

RUN ON SENTENCES. Sometimes they get away from me a bit XD

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Haaaa, actually when I first started writing fanfic I would throw in Japanese phrases and honorifics and looking back, it’s pretty cringe. BUT I can appreciate it as it was originally intended: learning and practicing a new language. If it makes sense for the character or situation though it’s really cute, like in Allargando by Slaycinder where Atem uses Arabic endearments for Seto. (Have I gushed about that fic on my blog yet? It’s so good.) Ancient Egyptian is the exception to everything I just said. I absolutely LOVE when someone takes a stab at putting ancient Egyptian in their fic. I go a little feral for it and it was the hardest but the most fulfilling thing about writing Ryou and the Thief was doing all the research write actual AE dialogue for Akeifa early in the fic.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh. I’ve done a handful of things for other fandoms but Ygo is the one I keep coming back to and definitely the one I’ve written the vast majority for.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh no this is hard! They’re all my babies and I love them! Probably my favorites have been listed in previous questions already. Ryou and the Thief because of the sheer amount of work that went into it and the fact that we ran the boys through a whole ass adventure, Coffee and Cigarettes because it’s such a fun, quirky little thing with a great atmosphere and Those Things He Keeps For Himself because I feel like I was able to really capture the idea in my head effectively and there’s some great imagery in it.

TAGGING: Oh my god this took me so long to finally sit down and complete that probably everyone I would tag has done it already! So not tagging anyone this time but please do it if it seems fun!

#tag game #writing #putting this in jenific because it has so many links in it #jenific #ygo

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joonsdiary · 4 years ago

Text

jamais vu (m)

↳ noun | the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time.

(are you the remedy to my broken heart?)

pairing: jungkook | reader | taehyung genre: slice of life au, acquaintances to friends (to lovers?) au // heaps of angst, a tiny bit of smut, a sprinkle of fluff word count: 13,4k

— warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, hints of gaslighting, mild descriptions of a panic attack, themes of infidelity, sexual intercourse (protected penetrative sex, implied female masturbation)

— note: mildly inspired by the films lost in translation and ocean waves, as well as jamais vu by bts (hence the title). some concepts were derived from my wip list, so in a way this was my remedy for the writer’s block i was having while writing ‘worth fighting for’. i hope in one way or another it can be your remedy, too. (p.s. despite being inspired by lost in translation, i haven’t actually seen the film so this won’t be exactly like that adkjhsd)

— playlist: carry me home - jorja smith ft. maverick sabre / sweet insomnia - gallant ft. 6lack / drew barrymore - sza / run - joji / truth is - sabrina claudio / bath - offonoff / ghostin - ariana grande / ... etc!

There’s something thrilling about sitting in the backseat of a car past midnight, windows rolled down as the driver chases the destination planted on her navigation device. You welcome the cool breeze that tangles your hair into an uncomfortable mess, as it only helps propel your heart rate faster. Inhaling slowly allows you to savour the musky scent of the earth shortly after being bathed with rainwater; if this is what freedom tastes like, you wish to savour as much of it as you could.

Eventually, the exhilaration wears down as the city lights blur into a cacophony of colours. It’s incoherent and indiscernible, yet it possesses the ability to lull you into a dream-like state. You had the utmost privilege of plugging your phone into the aux cord, therefore the familiar voice of your recently played songstress croons softly against the speaker, filling the cold, void spaces in between. Your heavy eyelids fall into an accustomed pattern, gradually flickering until it closes shut.

Sleep beckons; fatigue welcomes you into the abyss, and you embrace it with open arms.

Well, almost.

“Can you roll the windows up? It’s freezing,” he mumbles as he sinks further down the leather chair. You jolt awake at his sudden announcement, but he doesn’t apologize for disturbing your calmness.

“Hm? Yeah, of course,” your fingers scramble to find the right button to press until the tempered glass lifts, shielding you away from the busy city. You want to argue that it’s not even that cold, but he scoots closer towards you, tugging on your left arm before burying his head in the crook of your neck.

A wistful sigh escapes your lips and you turn to place a quick kiss on his crown. You immediately understand the exhaustion that plagues you both, brought about by the time difference between the country you came from and the one you’re currently visiting. You glance out the window once more as your thumb plays with the golden band on your ring finger.

Seoul is beautiful. The city itself is alive, evident by the way the summer stars in the night sky are dimmed by the light that emits from the numerous buildings and towers that create Seoul’s skyline. Looking at it from above while on a plane is similar to peeking at a telescope to view a galaxy far away, dotted by billions of brilliant stars. But despite the breathtaking aerial view, nothing feels more intimate than weaving through its streets.

Although you can tell its old roads are recently refurbished, unsurprisingly, which buries any inkling of familiarity beneath the cold cement. Despite you knowing the place, there’s still something different about it, like buying a new laptop to replace the old one. The specs are guaranteed to be exactly like its predecessor, but the fact that it comes in a sleek box, still unspoiled and untouched, fascinates you all the same. It begs to be used until you’re so attached to it that you refuse to part ways even just for a singular moment. That’s what defines Seoul for you.

But the city can wait. There will be plenty of opportunities to explore and rekindle your love affair with the town you once called your home. For now, your reason for being lays cradled within your arms, encapsulated within the bubble you desperately wish would stay intact, unmarred by the destructive forces of reality.

Although those illusions of fantasy can only take you so far. The fragility of your relationship is beginning to materialize into a spectre, its gaunt face haunting you in every corner you look. There’s no escaping the truth as it will, without a fail, catch you in one form or the other.

“What are you thinking about?” he hums lazily, soft breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“Just excited to finally be back after so long.”

“That’s right, you moved away long before I did.”

“Mhm.”

The discussion flickers out of existence, whose life is shorter than that of a fire in measly matchstick. You aren’t much of a conversationalist, and you appreciate that neither is he. Is that the defining trait that convinced you to marry the man sitting next to you three years ago? Perhaps. You like that he gives you the time and space to bask in your thoughts when you need it, even if there are moments where you’d like nothing more than to connect with him like you used to.

“I miss you,” slips out before you’re able to hold your tongue back. But you don’t scramble to reclaim the words like you usually do, followed by an apologetic I didn’t mean it like that. You let the phrase simmer, hoping it will soak him to the bones enough that it becomes his wake up call.

But, “I’m right here,” is all he says.

The him-of-past would have cradled your face in his big hands, turned you so that you’re face to face before he makes a silly face that will make you laugh. He’ll say you’re being silly for even thinking of such thoughts when he’s always been by your side, and forever will be. It will follow one chaste kiss, then a second, and before you could blink his limbs will tangle with yours, hearts beating fast but in unison, nonetheless.

“I know,” you murmur.

Perhaps he believes it’s enough that he’s there beside you, physically. Perhaps it’s wise to presume the same. It’s only wishful thinking to expect otherwise, after all.

Jungkook believes he’s a creature of habit. Or, he used to be, at least.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with falling into a certain pattern in life, especially at his age; God knows he needs a stable rock to hold on to so he doesn’t get carried away by the raging currents of the river.

But it had only been once upon a time where he enjoyed such endeavours; waking up, coming down to work, going back up to bathe, before finally retiring to bed. Yes, he’ll find pockets of time to eat meals, of course. Days come when he has the freedom to choose to go to the gym, instead, so his life isn’t completely mundane. There’s a nuance to such life, and he always aspires to have the propensity and the undeterred tenacity to stick to such a strict regimen.

However, days began to bleed into each other with the same shade of grey, indiscernible and incomprehensible. It’s not necessarily a lousy experience because he never felt starved or threatened out of his home. Life for him is like cruising down the endless highway, foot off the gas but going at one hundred kilometres per hour all the same. The figures he passes by become obscured by the speed he’s going at, but at the very least he’s still heading somewhere.

It’s only recently he’s fully realized the futility of his mundane schedule. She’d told him so.

“Don’t you want to break away from all of that? From your parents’ expectations of you?” her voice comes softly through the phone. His moments together with her are often brief and hurried, their conversations cut short by external forces acting upon them both. It’s dinnertime for him, but she has to drop the call in order to catch the early bus for work. Such a prick, time and distance can be.

(Perhaps, he now looks back and thinks to himself, they’re merely trying to find more reason to converse less with each other. Since when did it start, the feeling of obligation?)

“Are you suggesting that I—”

She says yes without letting him finish his sentence.

So he finds vigour in his life once more as he throws himself into his work, constantly propelled forwards by the need to meet an end goal: Save up enough to be able to move halfway across the world. To see her. To be with her.

But the respite is brief, however.

The more money is stored in his bank account, the less he thinks of the idea as brilliant. Is he ready to uproot his life from the only home he knows to move in with somebody he has only met through the screen of his phone?

Looking at the bigger picture, nothing else has changed in his life. He needs a true break; a real step back from a routine that is numerous years in the making.

Having sex with a stranger in a random motel seems like a good way to go about it, he thinks.

Several hours prior, his friends asked him to go out drinking with them. Jungkook, who rarely makes time for such occurrences, naturally agrees, surprising the very same acquaintances that invited him. At that point he believes they’re only asking to be polite, not having the courage to kick him out of an old group chat formed during their college days. They never expected him to say yes then, and they didn’t until now.

Countless bottles of beer and a few shots of liquor later, he’s fumbling with the zipper of his tight jeans. The woman, whose name he didn’t have the courtesy of asking, giggles as she rises from the bed to approach him.

Mistake number one.

“Do you need help, love?”

He fumbles through his words, unable to form a coherent thought. It’s not that he’s completely inexperienced — although the woman probably thinks he is by the way he acts — it’s just that, admittedly, it’s been a good while since he’d had sex with anybody. Add the nervousness to his inebriated state, and he’s got himself in quite the dilemma.

Mistake number two.

“I’m guessing you like them tight,” the woman points out.

“Huh?” his head whips towards the woman, eyes wide and mouth agape, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Your jeans, I mean.”

The woman chuckles once again as he attempts to peel the fabric off his skin. “Wasn’t really planning on this, that’s why.”

Mistake number three.

“But you have this,” an inconspicuous packet is pulled from his back pocket. Jungkook merely grins sheepishly in response. The woman kneels as she grips his underwear but he grabs her hand and pulls her up instead, crashing her body into his. He recalls her murmuring something about getting straight to the point, but he’s unsure if the woman meant it as a complaint or a compliment. He didn’t bother asking to elaborate, because none of this is even supposed to happen.

Mistake number four.

Guilt bubbles from within his chest, gnawing at every nook and cranny of his consciousness.

Mistake number five.

He’d have to tell her sooner rather than later. It would be fucking shitty of him not to. But before he has the time to steer clear of trouble and save himself from potentially ruining the only good thing he has going in his life, the woman’s lips are on him. There’s no going back now, he assumes.

Mistake number six, seven, eight.

Nine: His kiss feels famished as he drinks in each quiet moan that comes out of the woman’s lips. Every second feels reinvigorating like he’s sitting in front of the roller coaster as the ride pauses before the first drop. When the wheels turn and roll against the metal railroad track, he stumbles back and falls into the bed. He’s here for the thrill, which would bring the total up to ten so far.

Eleven is when he watches the woman slip the condom with ease, sheathing him. His presumed experience she possesses excites him further; that is number twelve.

He loses count when she traps him between her knees as she licks two of her fingers at once, before hiking up her skirt.

Jungkook wants to laugh at his lack of perceptiveness. Tactless when it comes to asking for the woman’s name; even more inadequate and impolite not to think about prepping her.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, head tilting to the side as wisps of her hair fall across her face as she grinds herself against him. He bites back a moan as he looks away from her. It probably would be best not to tell her. He then catches his reflection in the mirror, and despite the dimmed lights he could outline the expression he’s making; a reflection of someone unrecognizable.

“There’s a mirror,” he pauses as she gets a hold of him, her warmth enveloping him as she slowly sinks onto him. His hips jerk seemingly involuntarily in response, and she groans, tossing her head backwards. He forgets to speak altogether. The woman does the same, opting to mumble profanity, instead.

Jungkook wishes to hide the shame and guilt, the wrongfulness, the missed opportunities to say no. Is his need to feel something other than the heaviness of his heart worth all the pain he’s about to put not only himself but the person he wishes to spend the rest of his life with?

And so he buries himself deeper before denial could even stake a claim in the vast expanse of his thoughts. If to forget is to lose himself in the pleasure of someone else’s company, then he’ll desperately seek the ecstasy he’s craved for so long until he’ll see stars beneath the darkness of his eyelids.

His breathing is no longer erratic when he comes into consciousness.

“That was good,” she breathes out softly, and he turns in time to watch her brown eyes disappear from view.

“I have to go.”

He gets up from the bed and begins to move on autopilot, picking up his discarded clothes one by one. The woman immediately sits up and asks with an evident frown on her face, “Already? Didn’t you have fun?”

The corners of his lips are pulled upwards into a grin. “It’s for work.”

“At this hour? It’s almost one.”

“Midnight shift.”

When he’s dressed, he hesitates at the foot of the bed, shifting weight from one leg to the other. He’s never been the best with words, and his unexpectedly expected tryst with a stranger leaves him at a loss for what to say. It doesn’t help that the woman refuses to meet gaze with him.

I wouldn’t want to look at me either, he thinks bitterly to himself.

“Thank you for your time. I hope to see you around,” his half-truth is enough to pluck a rueful smile from her lips.

The bus ride back home is the longest one Jungkook thinks he’s taken ever since he moved to Seoul.

You watch as Taehyung lazily drags his feet behind him each step he takes towards the bed and breakfast place you decided to rent. The cicadas chatter loudly as if to cheer him on. A few more steps, they urge.

“Come on, Taehyung,” you groan from above the stairs, already reaching the top long before he does. “I’m about to pass out, too. But can we do it once we get to the bed?”

“I’m literally, like, dead,” you can’t help the roll of your eyes at his dramatic statement. But you hold your tongue back at any other snide comments that might offend him further. Patience is the key with him, always. Complaining to him, as you did earlier, will only force him to act against your wishes.

He reaches the top with a huff and a hand on his bent knees, handing you the duffel bag that’s filled to the brim with your clothes and his.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” is your attempt at making the situation lighthearted and less serious than it needs to be.

“Still should have booked a hotel, instead,” his nose scrunches in obvious dismay.

“For the last time, I thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” gone is the Taehyung of previous, whose tiredness begins with softness around his personality. It’s not unusual for him to get cranky after being jet-lagged. But hey, guess what, so are you!

You ignore him for fear of escalation as you make your way inside. A quiet chime of the bell signals your arrival, and your gaze meets a familiar set of doe eyes; someone you knew once upon a time in a place you can pinpoint exactly. His expression mirrors that of your surprised one as he tries to figure you out. It wouldn’t surprise you if he doesn’t recognize you as you did him.

It’s Taehyung who breaks your state of bewitchment when his shoulder bumps into your arms as he jogs towards the receiving desk.

“Hey, stranger! How long has it been?” Taehyung exclaims a little too loudly, his state of disarray seemingly vanishing in a flash. With the roll of your luggage as a guide, you follow after him, standing nimbly behind the shadow of his confidence.

“Since we graduated high school? Probably ten years,” he says humorously.

“That long, huh? Damn.”

They fall into a small talk which is somewhat out of sync, which is understandable considering the amount of time they haven't been in contact with each other. No matter how close they had been during their teenage years, some words are hard to come by more than others.

He suddenly calls your name out in a greeting, and you peak over Taehyung’s shoulder with a small wave of your hand. “Hey, Jungkook.”

His smile is gentle, and your mood shifts entirely.

“Are you back here on a trip?”

It’s clear the question was directed to you, but Taehyung absolves you the courtesy of answering. “Actually, it’s a work-related thing. She wanted to tag along.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” you say with a strained chuckle, and Jungkook glances between you and Taehyung.

“Ah, I see. In any case, I’ll get out of your hair,” he slides a pair of keys in your direction. “It’s well past midnight, so I’m sure you guys are tired from your flight.”

Taehyung snatches it up, and it falls into the pocket of his slacks with a soft jingle. He thanks him with enthusiasm before turning towards the direction of the elevator.

“Hope I see you around. Have good night.”

Something about your greeting has Jungkook’s eyebrows creasing in discomfort for a split second before he gives you a small nod. “I’ll be here if you need anything else.”

But he isn’t there to greet patrons by the next morning when you go down for your complimentary breakfast. Taehyung did not join you, opting for an extended hour of sleep. You didn’t mind, but you couldn’t lay aimless in bed for too long; you’ve always been a morning person, after all.

So you sit by your lonesome in the vast dining area, surrounded by an old couple in one corner and a young family of four in the other. The two children fight for the last remaining pancake while the parents share a hushed discussion. You glance down at your warm abalone porridge.

There was a time when you imagined such a life with Taehyung—a family you can call your own. Of course, it’s by no means too late for you; at the tender age of twenty-eight, you know that life still has a lot to offer. But approaching three years into your marriage, Taehyung does not present any hints of wanting such a future with you. Sure, the topic has been brought about occasionally, but never serious enough to be considered anything but a passing daydream.

“I hate to break it to you, but that soup isn’t going to give you the answers to your most pressing question, even if you stare at it like that.”

You look up to see Jungkook wearing an amused expression, carrying a plastic bag on his right hand. He follows your trail of gaze and lifts the item into view.

“I might have raided the kitchen before my shift is over. Don’t tell a single soul,” his gaze holds differently, but the smile he wears is the same one from his youth.

“Cross my heart,” you humour him, and his grin grows wider. “Have a safe trip home.”

His nose wrinkles in contemplation. “If you mean be careful going up the stairs to my room, then sure, I will.”

Your brows lift in confusion, “You rent here?”

“You could say that. I own this place,” the chair scrapes against the tiled floors as he welcomes himself into your bubble. “Well, sort of. My parents own this, but my older brother and I manage it.”

“You should have said so earlier!” you chuckle, placing your chin on your palm as you turn to face him. “I would have asked for a discount.”

“Ouch, this is exactly why I didn’t do that in the first place. It’s opportunists like you that I’m terrified of.”

“Okay, Richie Rich, I knew you were always a selfish prick even then.”

“Hah!” he exclaims, leaning closer. “I’m well aware of my reputation back then, and none of them was ‘selfish’. In fact, there was always a lot of me to go around.”

“I highly doubt that, somehow.”

“You wouldn’t know,” he says in a casual tone while crossing his arms in front of his chest. He gives you a knowing look. “You were always with Taehyung.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” you mumble against your palm, your voice growing quiet. Your ring suddenly feels heavy on your finger.

“Mhm, that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard you two got married a few years back. In another country, no less. Congratulations, by the way,” his tone softens, mirroring your sudden predisposition for a hushed conversation.

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile. “Married life is…”

“Different?” he offers, and you nod wordlessly. You would’ve chosen a different word for it, but you’re glad he finished the sentence for you. “All my other friends who’re in the same situation say so.”

“And you?”

He wears the same troubled expression from hours ago, but only for a brief moment. He mimics your posture as his face lights up with the biggest smile you’ve seen him wear. You know that expression; there was a point in time where you’d wear the same elated look when someone asks you about Taehyung.

“Long-distance. But we’ve been together for a couple of years,” he hesitates briefly, before continuing. “I’m leaving in less than two weeks to move in with her.”

“Where to?”

He reveals the name in a hushed tone, almost as if it’s meant to stay a secret between the two of you.

Your eyes widen with bewilderment, and he grins sheepishly. “Wow, that’s—”

“Halfway across the world? I know.”

It’s only when there’s a pause that you realize what your intended purpose is. So you dig a spoonful of the soup and chase the heat away with a quick blow before taking a quick bite.

“You’re really here just to tag along with Taehyung?”

You look at him in surprise, not expecting the subject to be brought out once again. “Not really. We um…”

You hesitate, unsure whether to share your thoughts or not. But Jungkook is neither a friend nor a stranger and is possibly the perfect candidate. There’s nothing that binds you to him and in a few weeks, you’d be back to being strangers. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember your story.

“We didn’t really have an official honeymoon after our marriage, and this was supposed to be it,” you chuckle, trying to play the situation off nonchalantly. “He sort of double-booked because he couldn’t turn down this gig.”

“That seems shitty, to be honest.”

You’re taken aback by the ruggedness of his tone, and you immediately jump to defend Taehyung. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve been back home.”

“Yeah, you missed out on our high school reunion just by a month,” his aura is lighthearted once more, and you’re glad for it.

“You went?”

“Nah, there was nothing good to reminisce about high school.”

You turn to him with your mouth agape. “This is coming from the captain of the football team, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ah, come on, stop with the teasing,” he says as he rolls his shoulder back, before clearing his throat. “It just so happened that I was good at kicking. And running. And scoring goals.”

Undeterred by his boasting, you give him a sly smirk. “I’m sure you revelled in the attention. There was enough of you to get around, you said?”

“Now you get it.”

You giggle and he laughs along with you. The interaction gives you a certain heaviness within your chest but at the same time, you feel lightheaded, almost as if you’re about to soar towards the heavens.

“I should go catch some sleep,” he says once your euphoria dies down. “I’ve had a long evening.”

“I’ll let you get to it, then,” you say almost wistfully. He mumbles a quiet later! and you allow your gaze to follow his movement.

“Don’t get lost on your way.”

He looks back and motions a mock salute. “I’ll come knocking on your door if I need help with directions.”

However, three days go by without seeing Jungkook; not in his usual spot at the entrance of the building, and nowhere near the kitchen or the lounge area. Although you weren’t looking for him by any means because Taehyung constantly kept you busy, dragging you from place to place to take cityscape photos for his client. Despite the constant travelling, it’s hard to enjoy the scenery when the affair appears to be completely one-sided.

There’s no mistaking the fact you’re extremely proud and gratified that Taehyung pours his heart and soul into each project he throws himself at. But would it hurt that much for him to point his lenses towards your direction even just once? Surely, your whole trip will not consist of you constantly waiting on him.

He must’ve noticed your affliction because suddenly the weight of his stare begins to feel heavier each quiet second that passes.

“Bored yet?” he asks, left hand on the wheel and the other placed on the knob to change the car’s gear. Your eyes flit back to him and his right palm opens for you to take. With your fingers interlocked, he places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

It’s difficult to harbour resentment towards him when he makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter with merely the tiniest of gestures.

“With you? Never.”

He chuckles, and you feel the rumbling of his chest as he presses the back of your hand against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat doesn’t match your erratic, nervous one.

“Hm, you should have said yes. I was going to save you of having to come with me later,” his tone is playful, and a small smile adorns his flushed lips.

“What’s happening later?” you shift in the passenger seat to face him.

“The dinner with Min, my client. I told you, remember?”

You carefully sift through your mind regarding your recent conversations with him. You recall them being short and clipped, sure, but none told you of a certain meeting with somebody else. So, you tell him in earnest, “No.”

“I’m sure you’re just forgetting,” his grip on you loosens, and you reclaim your hand before it falls on his lap.

No, you’re one-hundred-percent certain you would remember something as important as that. Yet you don’t tell him so and instead, you yield with a wordless nod.

“You mean to tell me you’re going to miss out on having takeout dinner with me?” you ask, attempting to humour him, but your tone mistakenly comes out tasting bitter on your tongue. The silence that ensues sears into your brain like the afternoon Seoul sun, prickly and scorching hot to the touch.

“You can come with, if that’s what you want. I’ll tell you in advance that it’s going to be boring, though, since we’re going to talk about work.”

Somewhere along the line, you presume Taehyung has developed the proclivity towards telling pretence with a straight face. It catches you off guard when you join him for the much-anticipated dinner that he apparently told you about. It’s not the fact that “Min” turns out to be a woman — you have no qualms about that. Taehyung is somebody who could make acquaintances with somebody while waiting in line for their prescription in a pharmacy. Rather, it’s the way he prepped you for the oncoming conversation or your lack of inclusion in any of them, for that matter.

Introductions aside, you found her to be amicable and friendly. But afterwards, you fell behind two steps as they divulged into a topic other than work. Despite the premise that the chat would be boring, Taehyung is deeply engrossed in whichever story she decided to share. You didn’t have quite the energy to match theirs, so instead of playing catch up, you decided to stop walking altogether. You watch as their figures grow smaller on the horizon, not even bothering to look back and ask if you’d like to join them.

She laughs at something Taehyung says and automatically reaches to grab his arm as she giggles along with him. When she makes eye contact with you, instinct tells you to force a smile. And you did, uncaring if she perceives your gesture to be nothing but utter bullshit.

You busy yourself with studying the restaurant instead as you pensively wait for food to be served. The dim lights of the room create a warm ambience — romantic, almost.

The gears in your brain stop turning as they click into place. Your pulse gums with vigour as you feel the sweat seeping through the pores of your palms. Suddenly, the vast expanse of the dining hall feels suffocating; there’s no room for you. To breathe, to feel, to be.

“I’ve got to go.”

You suddenly feel lightheaded as you begin seeing multiples of dark spots, clouding your vision. The floor caving beneath you, and you struggle to keep afloat.

“What?” Taehyung looks at you with wide eyes but makes no move to hold you back from gathering your things.

“I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend today,” you say with self-assurance, miming the same expression he wore when he lied: I told you, remember?

Taehyung stands when you move away from the table and hope blooms dangerously in your chest; your wish for him to hold you back and stop you from leaving begins to permeate.

(Though in hindsight, you should have known better.)

“I’ll call a cab for you.”

Static fills the void, and for the first time in his life, Jungkook fears the silence rather than basking in it. He’s unsure when his words began to fail him; is it because he’s nervous he’ll slip up and say the wrong thing? Truly, at this point, being seen as the bad guy should be the least of his concerns.

Because as far as any human with a functioning brain thinks, he’s already fucked up in more ways than one. There’s no returning from the level of hell he’s put himself in.

“Are you still there?”

Her voice is patient, but he can tell she’s apprehensive.

“Uh, yes—just, thinking.”

There’s a brief pause before an accusatory, “Look, if you’re having second thoughts then maybe it’s too early.”

He immediately leaps from the couch of the empty lounge area. It’s a little past eleven at night, so everyone is either already in their rooms or out enjoying the city, which gives Jungkook a leg room for privacy.

“What? No, that’s not it!”

Two years isn’t too damn early. He feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime; tired of the time difference, tired of the distance, tired of being deprived of touch. Tired of the same old city, with the same predictable people. Everything around him is starting to feel foreign; the steps that lead to the bed and breakfast lodging, the corner street that sells the best tteokbokki he’s ever tasted in his life, the crosswalk that has malfunctioning lights which should be a public safety hazard but at this point he thinks will never be fixed. It’s all mundane, cycling through the same wheel of routine.

He no longer wants to feel apathetic when he faces his future while he houses resentment on his present self milling around aimlessly. She’s his only ticket to escape, so he better stop fucking around and tell her the truth.

But where to begin?

“Listen, I—”

“Whatever it is, can you please just say it? I’m leaving for work soon.”

He takes two steps back, for fear of retribution. Is he ready to ruin the entirety of her day?

“Never mind. I’ll talk to you later. Have a great day at work.”

She heaves a sigh, and preemptively ends the call.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he mumbles as he stares at his phone with her name printed in big letters across the screen. He contemplates pressing the call button and finally telling her everything—her work be damned. He knows that he owes her the truth at the very least.

But you come barrelling down the door, barefoot as you clutch your heels safely between your armpit. You’re dressed formally, yet casual enough for a nice dinner outside plenty of Seoul’s restaurants. But the slight stutter in your step and your somewhat dishevelled hair tells Jungkook all he needs to know. He doesn’t have to hazard a guess.

“Jungkook!” you raise your arms as you exclaim, and the wooden floor welcomes your shoes with a loud thud. “It’s been so long. What are you doing here?”

He laughs, not because of your deeply inebriated state, but because of your inquiry. What the hell am I doing here? He’s been asking himself that very same question without an answer in sight for a while now.

Though he doesn’t have time to answer because you almost knock him over when you skid over to wrap your arms around his neck. His senses are overwhelmed with the pungent smell of liquor, mixed with a subtle hint of rose water.

“I miss you.”

Jungkook is perplexed by your brutal honesty, to say the least. Though he knows to excuse any action while somebody is foolishly drunk, so long as they are not harming anybody or themselves. You grow quiet, and Jungkook is about to ask where you’ve been when he feels dampness on the front of his button-up shirt. He looks down and sees you visibly shaking, before grabbing at his sleeves seemingly for physical support.

It’s when you ask, with conviction, “Why did you hold me back?” that he realizes you aren’t referring to him. So, he wordlessly wraps his arms around you as he pats your back reassuringly. He doesn’t mind that you began sobbing louder, not even when a guest comes through the door and gives him a perplexed expression. He simply nods in their direction as a form of acknowledgement before giving a tight-lipped smile.

When minutes pass and Taehyung doesn’t arrive, he puts two and two together and concludes that he had to be the reason. His heart squeezes painfully as you attempt to swallow a sob which ends up sounding more agonizing and hollowed, carrying with them the weight of all the sorrow you’ve seemingly piled up.

When your cries are reduced to soft hiccups, you pull away from him with a quiet apology. Jungkook shakes his head as he places his palms delicately against your face before wiping the remnants of your sorrow away from your cheeks.

“Better?”

“No,” you sniffle. “I feel like shit.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I wanna go out again. Will you come with me?” you look up at him, bleary eyes pleading. Jungkook dips his chin as he guides you to sit on the leather couch, which you thankfully follow.

“At this rate, you’re going to pass out before we step foot outside the building.” With a sigh, he crouches down to reach eye level with you. “Do you need to puke?”

“I already did that after getting off the cab earlier, I think.”

“Okay then, wait here.”

You nod wordlessly and he goes to pick up your discarded shoes before placing it near your naked feet. He unlocks his phone as he makes his way to the dining hall, dialling a familiar number.

“Jaehyun?” he asks after the third ring. “Can you come earlier for your shift? Something came up.”

When he’s sure someone is going to take over for him, he makes his round in the empty kitchen, grabbing whatever he thinks might be immediately necessary: clean towels, an empty bucket in case of an emergency, and a glass of water.

You’re placid when he returns, eyes puffed out and red as you stare at nothing in particular. He hands you the water and you immediately finish it before he can blink.

You mumble a quick apology as he exchanges the empty glass for the clean towel.

“Don’t worry about it. This will all be billed towards room service.”

You chuckle and throw him back the towel which lands squarely on his face.

“Not funny.”

“I’m dead serious. Look at this damage on my shirt!” he points at the makeup smear accusingly, causing an escalation in your laughter. But the tears return, and you wordlessly wipe them with your palms.

“Come,” he offers his hand for you to take. “You have to eat.”

You stare wordlessly at it for a while, before taking it and pulling yourself to stand. You’re wobbly on your feet, and Jungkook tightens his grip on your hand in an attempt to steady you.

“I can’t go out like this,” you mumble. Jungkook nods in agreement as he wears a playful grin. You nudge his side, brows furrowed and lips forming into a pout. “I know I look like a mess. No need to rub it in.”

“I never said anything,” he chuckles. “Weren’t you the one asking to go out again?”

“I still do. But don’t worry,” you pat the back of his hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to come with.”

“I haven’t noticed Taehyung pass through yet, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jungkook watches your expression morph back into a blank stare. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, after all. His mind scrambles to quickly divulge the topic. “Where do you want to go? I already called my replacement at the front desk—”

“I know this is a bed and breakfast and not a hotel, but you guys have liquor, right?”

You’ve somehow convinced Jungkook to siphon a bottle of whiskey and a few cans of beer from the lodging’s inventory. Though he can quite happily admit that it didn’t take much to get him on board. But he technically can’t be seen drinking and lounging on the job for morale’s sake, so he sneaks in some food along with the alcohol — and you — back to his room. Although Jaehyun did catch you and Jungkook on the way up.

(He promises a wage increase if Jaehyun doesn’t say anything to Jungkook’s older brother. You didn’t have to but since you offered, I’ll take it, the latter said.)

“Apologies for the mess,” he mutters, holding the door with his foot as he welcomes you. He turns on the lamp instead of the main lights since they’re less obtrusive to the eye.

“Are you kidding?” you stumble in, trying not to drop the cans of beer you’re holding. “This place is practically spotless. You have bodies in your closet, don’t you?”

Jungkook laughs as he makes a beeline for the makeshift table sitting between his pseudo-living-room-slash-bedroom and kitchen—

“Wait, you have a kitchen?”

Jungkook isn’t sure if you’re perplexed or amazed. He shrugs nonchalantly either way.

“Perks of being part-owner, I guess?”

He haphazardly throws a blanket and a pillow near the table for you to sit in, but apparently, you have other plans and proceed to make a home for yourself in his bed. You bury your head in the sheets, mumbling, “It smells good.”

“I change the sheets every month,” he boasts rather proudly; all part of his routine.

“I should definitely check that closet.”

“By all means,” he grins, plopping down in front of the table. He’s yet to have dinner, so his intentions to get food and beer had been partly selfish. Jungkook turns to you, now laying on your side, sullen eyes already studying him. He quickly looks away and grabs a spoon before holding it up.

“Food? You’re probably hungry, right? I know I’m always craving, especially after a good cry. Not that I cry often, but doing so from time to time doesn’t hurt either, I suppose. I hope that doesn’t sound too weird—I know there’s this stigma around men and crying but honestly, it’s all such bullshit. We are born into the world crying, it’s literally the first thing we do as humans. Anyway, do you fancy some beef and white rice? I know it’s not much, but...what are you laughing for?”

Jungkook watches you descend into hysteria, clutching your stomach as your giggles turn silent, but your shoulders are still visibly shaking. You heave for air, turning over so your back is face to him.

“If I knew I was this funny, I would have switched careers,” he mumbles, though loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffs his face with rice.

“It’s not too late,” you reply with a sniffle. “You can still change your mind.”

“That’s true, I suppose. Don’t they have that saying that goes ‘a fickle heart is the only constant in this world’ or something?”

Your head whips back towards him, swollen eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you just quote Howl’s Moving Castle?”

His nose scrunches up in deep thought. “Maybe? I did watch it recently.”

“You’re an odd one, Jeon Jungkook,” you muse quietly, eyes mimicking one of the phases of the moon as you grin.

“Says the person who’s soiling my fresh linen with her tears,” he says playfully. But there’s no reply this time around, and he quickly backtracks. “It’s okay to laugh at that one—it was a joke. A very terrible one, apparently.”

“No. You’re quite spot on, actually.”

Jungkook doesn’t speak for a while, unsure whether he should be overstepping the boundary more than he should have. But he looks at your vulnerable state, splayed across his bed, and thinks all formalities are out the window at this point. Despite the previous state of your relationship with him, or otherwise the lack of it, this would probably constitute friendship. Therefore, as a friend, it’s his moral duty to rid you of your throes and woes, even just a little.

“Where did you go, anyway? Must have been fun if you got all shit-faced like this.”

Keeping the tone airy is probably the best way to go as an introduction.

“Just a pub. I didn’t want to go clubbing by myself, it could have been dangerous.”

Jungkook’s forehead creases with worry, and he holds himself back from the question that he’s burning to ask: Then where the hell is Kim Taehyung? He reserves the right to be outright angry because he knows it’s not his place to. He reaches for the can of beer, which hisses in frustration when he opens it.

“You don’t have friends in the city?” he asks, hoping you will not take offence at his question. You shrug.

“I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone after moving away. It felt weird asking someone out of the blue.”

“You could have called me,” he says without much thought.

“I seriously considered it, but…” you trail off, leaving Jungkook to fill the void himself. He doesn’t mind that he probably didn’t cross your mind as a go-to person to call in times of crisis. “I heard you were quite the party pooper in high school, so I had my doubts.”

“Hey!” he protests, but you ignore him and continue. He doesn’t disagree, of course, but being called out is not a fun experience whether it came from a drunk acquaintance or not.

“New in town, straight-A student—but to be fair, quite good-looking and athletic to boot. My god, all my friends had a stupid on crush on you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks grow warm with embarrassment at the deluge of compliments. “Me? With gangly limbs and an awful bowl-cut? Who couldn’t even get a single word out to anybody, especially girls, without stuttering? That Jungkook?”

“You need to give yourself a little more credit than that, Jeon.” You’re facing him once again, both hands tucked neatly beneath your head.

He nods as an acknowledgement but swiftly changes the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? I’m halfway through this already.”

“I’m sure. I think I’ll probably just nap, then go,” you chuckle. Jungkook can only offer you a rueful smile. He doesn’t mind if you’re unwilling to share the whole spiel of what caused you to be miserable enough to drink by yourself. He’s quite well-versed in that area, after all. It doesn’t solve anything, sure, but it’s enough to numb the feeling of being alone with his thoughts. He doesn’t have to guess who the root of it is, though.

He sighs as he turns on the television, before lowering it down to a manageably quiet level where it will not disturb your sleep. He doesn’t have a particular show in mind to watch, but having the mindless static accompany him is more than enough.

“I lied,” you begin after several minutes of silence. “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” he motions for you to move over as he walks closer to the bed. You follow his instruction, and he peels a layer of the bedsheet. Jungkook laughs as you scramble to get under it. “Better now?”

You didn’t answer but instead, lift your head from the sheets before nodding. He’s overcome with a sense of assurance when he sees your peaceful, content expression.

He hasn’t so much as turned his back on you when you call his name out once more.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Just make sure you leave us a five-star rating.”

He grins just as you crack one eye open. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. We need that public approval to keep running,” he watches the corner of your lips twitch in amusement as you settle back comfortably into the futon with a nod.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

“Was I wrong? For feeling wanted, I mean.”

Your question catches him by surprise; suddenly the hardwood floor beneath him begins to feel cold against his feet. Instead of returning to his previous spot, he carefully sits on the edge of the bed as the springs creak from his weight. He pulls both his legs underneath him; he couldn’t quite face you, so he stares at the television, instead.

“I don’t think so. We all crave validation, more so from our partners than anybody else. I think it’s natural. Otherwise, it’s pointless.”

“Pointless,” you echo softly.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t work it out, though. Part of it is communicating your needs to each other.”

Hypocrite, Jungkook says to himself. It’s laughable, the level of bullshit he allows himself to bask in. What’s the point of giving someone else advice, when he can’t even get his shit together?

“You have to be truthful because the other person might not know what you want.”

“I know that,” your voice is shaky when you speak. Jungkook hedges his bet and assumes that you began crying once more; he didn’t need to look back to confirm. “I guess I’m just scared of facing the outcome of the confrontation when it does happen.”

“You don’t want to be abandoned when shit hits the fan,” he says more to himself than you.

“Exactly. I don’t even know when it began. One day I just woke up and,” you pause, and Jungkook hears you sniffle. “And everything felt so unfamiliar. The places—the people I thought I knew. It’s like I dissociated from my body, and I've just been on autopilot ever since.”

You pause, and Jungkook continues for you. “And you thought going along with the flow would fix things, but it feels even more jarring because you’ve lost that sense of familiarity.”

“Yeah, exactly. I thought coming here would somehow magically restore everything, but quite the opposite, actually. I guess running away from it doesn’t solve anything,” you chuckle bitterly. He slowly shifts on the bed to face you.

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook feels seen; like someone has found the lock to the door he threw away so long ago. Your words continuously play on a loop in his mind, forcing him to look at the actions he’s been taking. Certainly, he’s not racing away from himself by choosing to move to a different country despite his parents’ protest, is he? What about the fact that he chooses not to tell her, the supposed love of his life, about the fact that he’d felt so deprived that he couldn’t resist the temptation to have sex with someone else? And to top it all off, he doesn’t have the guts to tell her.

Jungkook knows he doesn't deserve the right to sit there and tell you what to do when he doesn’t dare to be honest in his relationship.

When you’ve cried your eyes dry and the evenness of your breathing signifies you’re fast asleep, Jungkook gently moves from his spot on the bed. He grabs the phone that has been idly on top of the table, before heading to the bathroom and closing the door shut. No matter the outcome of the conversation, she deserves the truth.

Jungkook inhales deeply and presses the call button.

You rise before daybreak, and at a glance, Jungkook is nowhere to be found. There’s a painful throb on the side of your head as you sit up, and you ignore it as you untangle yourself from the sheets. With the help of the lights from the television, you find him splayed across the couch not too far from where you stand. He’s still wearing the same clothes he had on a few hours ago, and guilt creeps up quicker than you anticipated it to.

You untuck the blanket you’ve used from his bed before walking towards him, careful not to disturb his slumber.

“I apologize for bothering you,” you mumble as you lay the blanket softly on top of him. You didn’t think to wake him before your departure; you already told him that you were set to leave after a short nap, anyway.

Hurriedly, you exit his room, forgetting that you’re completely barefoot. It’s fine, it’s just a few floors down, anyway.

The short elevator ride gives you little room to prepare for what you’re going to tell Taehyung. You glance at the phone you’ve been keeping on ‘do not disturb’ to find two missed calls from him a few hours prior. You just hope he’s already asleep by the time you get to your room.

You’re relieved when you enter and the lights are turned off. It feels juvenile to be sneaking around as you use your phone’s light to pick up a discarded shirt before stripping away your clothes and hurriedly putting it on.

Taehyung’s body is turned towards the wall as he hugs the pillow tightly against his body. Seeing him tranquil and at peace shifts your mood, as if all the frustration you feel dissipates within an instant. You slide under the covers, careful not to disturb him but he shifts at your presence anyway. He forgoes the pillow, snaking his arms around your waist instead as he inches closer.

“Where have you been?” he murmurs sleepily against your ear.

“Just...here.”

He doesn’t ask further and you don’t elaborate, thinking that he’s fallen back asleep. A part of you is glad for the unadulterated freedom he’s giving you. But there’s a sudden feeling of optimism; perhaps the sensation of loneliness will pass, and that you’re merely being dramatic (for the lack of better term). Once again you’re lulled into complacency. But it’s never a bad thing to just hope for the best, right?

But Taehyung is gone by noon when you finally have the decency to peel yourself off the bed. There’s a simple text from several hours ago that reads: Didn’t want to disturb you. Call me later.

You do exactly that, but it takes you straight to voicemail. Twice. Three times.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach, but you try not to read into the situation too much.

“It’s fine, I wanted a day to go around by myself anyway,” you say out loud, uncaring if the walls are the only ones hearing you out. You fall back into the mattress, knowing the eagerness to get ready will not come unless there’s anybody to encourage.

But it seems like you didn’t have to wait for your saving grace for too long because your phone rings and you immediately roll over to reach for it.

Your heart sinks when you read the caller ID, but you grin and answer the call, anyway.

“Hey, Mom.”

She answers back cheerily, before divulging into her familiar list of questions; the usual how are you’s and the have you been eating well’s. When she finally inquires about Taehyung, you answer hesitantly.

“He’s out for work. You know how it is.”

She sighs and you wince, regretting your choice of tone. “Did you argue again?”

“No! That’s not it at all. I’m just—”

“Whatever it is, just be patient with him,” she admonishes. Your grip on the phone tightens. Right, because that very same rhetoric did nothing to salvage your marriage with Dad. It had been one of the reasons why you decided to move away after high school in the first place. Your mother managed to convince you to move in with her, stating that she wanted to make up for being absent most of your youth.

A different country. Foreign places to see, people to meet. The thrill of it all had been enough to convince you to depart the only place you knew your entire life. But part of the reason why you agreed had been because you were growing weary of living with your father’s new family. There was never a sense of belonging that tied you to Seoul despite spending all your life there.

Except for Taehyung.

He followed you five years later, like a fool in love. Then you decided to get married two years after rekindling your relationship. Three years since then, it feels like you’re floating in between two sides of the same coin with him, neither in bliss nor in terror.

“I know,” you chew your bottom lip. Fear is catching fire in your chest, and you smother it quickly so it will not disperse and reach your heart. “I’m trying.”

She switches the topic quicker than you can wipe the tears that manage to fall, and soon enough she’s complaining to you about having to come out for late lunch with her friends. Your answers are short and subdued, just enough to let her know that you’re still there, but your mind is itching to run somewhere else. Before she hangs up, you give her a gentle reminder to check on your apartment. She promises not to forget.

“Have fun, dear! Don’t forget to visit the places I told you about.”

“You act as if I didn’t live here before,” she chuckles at your unintended humour. “But don’t worry, I won’t.”

The line cuts after a short goodbye, and you welcome silence with a long sigh. It seems like there’s a lot on the list for you to finish: get some food to cure your hangover, take a nap, and then another after waking up. The prospect of going out alone is more daunting than it seems, therefore, staying in feels like it’s the best option.

Suddenly, a fleeting thought crosses your mind. You could have called me.

You instinctively reach for the telephone by the bedside table and dial his room number, fresh and vivid in your memory.

It takes half an hour to get to the destination Jungkook suggested. He agreed that you’ll treat him to (a very late afternoon) lunch if he picks the place.

“No way, it’s still here!” you exclaim as soon as you step foot off the cab. Waves of nostalgia come trickling in one by one, then hits you all at once when you open the door. Your senses are overwhelmed with familiar spices as soon as you push the door open. You look back and beam at Jungkook, who’s watching you with a small smile.

It’s only when you’re seated and have ordered that Jungkook clears his throat before saying, “I’m glad you still remember.”

You gawk at him, before crossing your legs firmly beneath you.

“Are you kidding? They have the best bibimbap and tofu stew. I was here almost every night especially during the exam period.”

“I know,” he says with confidence and you eye him with suspicion. “I mean, it was tough not to. You were always so loud around your friends.”

You scoff at him despite you knowing it to be true, but Jungkook takes no offence to it as he grins.

“It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime,” you point at him with your spoon.

“I am having fun with—”

“If you say ‘with you’, I swear to god you’re going to pay for the food instead,” you warn him despite a smile threatening to break from your lips.

“With you,” he emphasizes the phrase almost mockingly. You murmur the word “impossible” under your breath as you feel the tips of your ears grow warm.

Although the comment seems gratuitous at the time of its conception, to Jungkook’s credit you also come to enjoy time spent with him. Perhaps it’s the fact that he stands between novelty and familiarity that you fall into an easy discourse with him; you didn’t have to choose your words too carefully or worry that he might think ill of you based on what you say. There’s no seed of doubt and no root cause of anxiety.

You can’t help but find it odd, nevertheless.

Jungkook, whom you’ve never shared more than two lines before your current interaction with him. You’d never have thought in a million years you’d confide in somebody who used to give you odd stares and unfriendly glares when you passed by him in the halls of your high school. The past you would gawk, confused as to how he manages to coax even the tiniest smile out of you.

You’re about to point out that very fact to Jungkook when your phone rings and you’re immediately reprieved back out of the comfort of his presence.

It’s Taehyung, and you immediately answer.

“Babe, don’t freak out, but I’m currently in Daegu. Crazy! I know, I know. But remember I told you last night about—”

He begins listing names you recall hearing in passing. But it didn’t matter, because you stop paying attention after hearing where his current location is.

“—is why I couldn’t answer your call. But don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, probably.”

You watch Jungkook shift in his seat as he asks you if everything’s all right. You nod instinctively.

“Okay.”

“Cool. I’ll call you again later after we get settled. Love you.”

“Mhm.”

He must have been in a hurry because the call cuts before you could get another word in. Although you didn’t attempt to answer longer than a few sentences in the first place, afraid that the quiver in your voice will reveal the hurt and anger that has slowly been piling up one by one.

Jungkook thinks you’re a dam that’s overfilled and just about ready to burst. He’s afraid because you seem overly happy, obviously overcompensating for the devastation he had seen in your eyes hours prior to your call. He needn’t guess who it had been on the other side. Although he doesn’t know what Taehyung said, it’s enough to send you in a frantic search for your sanity.

This begins with you asking him to go to a karaoke bar with you, before proceeding to order several drinks. It’s on me, Jeon! I owe you lots, you declare before proceeding to down a whole glass of beer in one go.

Within the privacy the four walls of the room bring, you pour your energy into one upbeat song after another, seemingly uncaring of Jungkook’s presence. That is until your umpteenth song ends, and you turn away from the screen dramatically and towards him to hand him the mic.

“Your turn!”

“Great, I thought you’d never ask,” he says sarcastically and you join him on the seat, giggling. He takes the remote and punches in his selected number as a familiar tune comes through the speakers. He looks at you as he begins to sing the lyrics of the verse, and you break out into a small grin.

“I’m trying to realize, it’s alright to not be fine…” he sings softly as your head gently leans on his shoulder. Jungkook lets you.

He does again on the cab ride to the pub for a late dinner. And again on the way home. The weight of your presence against him is most likely inconsequential to the heaviness you carry around with you. That’s why he’ll do his part even though he most likely doesn’t have to; anything to let you know you’re not alone. He just hopes you know.

“Jungkook,” your voice is quiet against his ear as he carries you up the concrete steps.

“Yes?” he adjusts you on his back, careful not to drop you. He’s only slightly inebriated, and he’s hoping there will be no accidents for him or you.

“Thank you.”

“Just leave us a—”

“Five-star rating,” hearing your laughter feels ticklish in his stomach. “I will.”

His older brother greets him with an odd look once he enters the door of the lobby, before asking, “Is this what you skipped work for?”

“I’m only cashing in my days off before a leave,” Jungkook points at the elevator with his chin.

“Yeah, yeah,” his brother says dismissively before pressing the button for Jungkook. Silence passes through them as they wait for the doors to open. “Is she the reason why you changed your mind?”

Jungkook feels the steady rhythm of your pulse against his back, which is kilometres away from his erratic heartbeat. He tries not to put too much thought into it; he did just carry you up several flights of stairs, after all.

The harsh ping of the bell saves him from answering, and the older didn’t press him any further. It’s only after he’s turned the keys to your room, safely placed you on the bed — but not before he falls back onto the spot beside you with a deep sigh — that he has the time to formulate an articulate response.

“I’d like to think I did it out of my own volition. But a lot has happened the last few days, and, well…” he trails off as he turns his body to face you, one hand tucked against his cheek as the other reaches out to comb a stray hair out of your face.

You stir under his touch but he doesn’t make the effort to move away.

“Seems like I owe you again, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper, the words stringing together seemingly in an indecipherable sound. He manages to put the pieces together, nonetheless.

“You’re not under any obligation to repay me,” he grins when you peel your eyes open. “I don’t want to give you all the credit, but you might have saved me more than once.”

“How so?”

The reflection of the city lights chase away the dimness of the room, but they also reflect your eyes in a way that makes Jungkook think you’re holding the galaxy’s secrets within them.

“I was having this, sort of, midlife crisis—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” you place your elbow against the mattress as you lean your flushed cheeks against your palm. “Saying you’re having a midlife crisis now in your late twenties makes it seem like your life’s going to end in your sixties.”

He shrugs half-heartedly. The pessimist in him urges him to declare, “Who’s to say I won’t?”

“Boo! I hate this story already.”

“Buckle up, because it’s about to get worse,” he smiles wryly.

And Jungkook opens up his fresh wounds and bares his soul without pomp and flowery words. He watches your reaction intently, nonetheless, knowing well enough that by the end of the night, he might get kicked out of the halls. He’ll take the punishment kindly, since she didn’t have the chance to slap him when he could tell, despite the distance, that she would punch him square in the face.

“I know it’s wrong, and I’m not making any excuses for my actions.”

“I feel like I have no place to get angry at you. But strictly speaking, from a rational person’s point of view...fuck you.”

“I deserve no less,” he says, appreciating your candour. “That’s why last night, when you fell asleep, I told her everything. I realized that I had no place to speak of communicating when I’ve been holding out on the truth from her for a while now. You can only imagine how angry she is with me.” He swallows thickly, hating the way his throat constricts uncomfortably. Perhaps he did care about how you’ll view him, after all.

“Are you all right, though?”

The worry engraved in the crease between your brow disarms him; the unexpected delicacy in the way you ask him suddenly brings him into sobriety. After hearing the phrase I don’t want to see you, ever, he hasn’t had the time to process how he feels other than the guilt that continues to plague him. He’d buried heartbreak that comes along after losing somebody so quickly that realizing it now has him terrified of himself.

Has he truly reached the point where he’s incapable of feeling anything?

Or is it that somewhere between then and now, he’s fallen out of love with her and made excuses for himself so that it’s easier to let her hate him because he didn’t have the courage to break it off? Is it because he’s using her as an excuse — his ticket out of Seoul, out of the life he thinks to be mundane? Because if so, then he’s an even bigger scumbag than he originally thought.

“Jungkook?”

The warmth of your hand on his cheek salvages him from sinking into the bottomless depth of his thoughts.

“I can’t believe I strung her along for this long.”

Then it hits him all at once; an unavoidable freight train carrying the emotions he’s repressed himself from bearing. In him blossoms the violent need to abate the heaviness that began festering within the depths of his mind a long time ago.

One sob and you pull him against you. Two and you’re running your hands soothingly down the curves of his back. Three, and he’s clinging onto you for dear life as the uncontrollable cries consume him. He’s overcome by a sense of déjà vu as you wrap your arms tighter against him.

Jungkook lets you.

Again and again, he will selfishly welcome your presence, as if doing so would diminish him of any wrongdoings he has committed.

You drift in and out of consciousness, but the warm body stays unchanged beside you. Another aspect feels indifferent: The pounding headache constantly knocking against your temple. In hindsight, you probably need to stop drinking to the point where your body can’t handle the after-effects. Inhaling slowly puts your mind at ease as the scent of fresh lavender wafts over your senses; you’re immediately reminded of hanging freshly laundered sheets during a hot summer day. Only one person manages to conjure such specific and vivid imagery for you.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your body goes rigid at the feeling of his heavy arm draped across your waist. You slowly open your eyes, hoping that your initial hunch is wrong, and you’re merely dreaming that you let someone who’s neither a stranger nor a friend lay in bed with you.

But you’re met with his peaceful sleeping face, a stark difference between last night’s troubled and despaired Jungkook. For a split second, you let your mind wander with your heart amongst the perilous grounds of your imagination.

If picturing life with him is a sin, then there’s absolutely no saving you from entering the depths of hell.

(A tad bit over-dramatic on your part, but you believe you have the license to do so since you just woke up in the arms of someone else other than Taehyung.)

Despite the slight panic accentuated by the quick palpitations of your heartbeat, you make no genuine effort to move away. Bits of cynicism creeps up, either way, as you berate yourself for clinging onto anybody willing to keep you company.

But at this point, is Jungkook truly just ‘anybody’ to you? In a short period of time, you’ve managed to share more with him than you’ve had with Taehyung. With Jungkook, there’s nobody to compete for attention with.

So, what is holding you back from leaving the anguish behind and instead run straight on towards Jungkook? Is the sanctity of marriage you’ve sworn to uphold after seeing how it tore your own family apart enough of a reason to stay with him?

The answer sits on the tip of your tongue like a ripe fruit ready to burst.

Jungkook shifts his position as he raises one eyelid open before breaking out into a lazy grin. You return the gesture as you peel yourself away from his touch to sit upon the mattress and stretch your limbs wide.

“That was the best sleep I had in a while,” he admits.

“Maybe all you needed was a good cry.”

He gives you a knowing look. “Maybe.”

Silence ensues, and all of a sudden you’re unsure of what to tell him when minutes ago you allowed yourself to stare at him unabated. How exactly are you supposed to express gratification to the person who’s allowed themselves to be the unfortunate passenger to your rollercoaster of emotions? What’s more, is you’d done the same for him. Do you, then, without a need for more words, go back to how it had been previously and pretend nothing had happened?

You didn’t have much time to ponder because your phone vibrates in the back pocket of your jeans.

“What do you mean by ‘we need to talk’?”

“Good morning to you too, Taehyung,” you mumble. Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, as if in sudden realization of something he’d forgotten. He moves off the bed and motions for the bathroom. You nod wordlessly. It almost slipped your mind that you sent him a somewhat vague text the night previous after Jungkook’s spiel. “It means exactly what it says. We need to talk when you get back. You are coming back, right?”

“What’s with the sudden hostility in your tone? Of course, I’m coming back.”

“I think I deserve to be a little hostile,” a sudden wave of bravery washes over you. “How exactly am I supposed to feel after you leave me without warning on our trip?”

“I told you—”

“Stop fucking lying to me, Kim Taehyung,” your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “You never talk about anything with me anymore, and you know it.” There’s a certain pride you feel when he doesn’t respond right away. “I can’t talk to you about this on the phone. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jungkook returns well after you’ve ended the call with Taehyung.

“I should probably get back to my room and change. I need to take over for my brother.”

You follow him towards the door, where he haphazardly puts on his shoes. When he stands, he gazes at you, eyes filled with tenderness. Your heart stutters. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course,” you offer him an encouraging smile, but he doesn’t return it. With one nod he’s out the door, and you watch as his figure retreats towards the elevator without so much as a wave, not knowing that would be the last you see of him for a while.

Taehyung’s arrival comes earlier than expected and catches you after your long shower, but says nothing to quell your worries. He merely sits on the bed and watches you pace around the room; for a comb one minute, then you put on lotion next, then you’re folding clothes to be laundered — anything to busy yourself from confrontation. It’s not that your courage has wavered, but rather your dignity prevents you from breaking first.

Yet as soon as your name rolls off his tongue, there’s a magnetic pull that has your feet nimbly walking to where he is.

“I’m sorry,” is all it takes from him for you to unravel completely. There’s no shortage of fresh, hot tears as he engulfs you against him. You bring your palms up to grab on his shirt tightly, before hitting his chest with no real intentions of hurting him. He doesn’t stop you but instead pulls back to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your arms fall nimbly to the side and Taehyung continues to mutter apologies one after the other, catching each teardrop before they reach the bottom of your ruddy cheeks.

He waits until you’ve stopped sobbing before you begin diving into a conversation that’s been long overdue. Slowly, the walls you’ve built around yourself begin to crumble brick by brick as the imperfections of your relationship reveal itself on the surface. It’s uncomfortable for him as much as it is for you to dredge up old wounds, evident by the way his eyes well up with tears, but it’s an intervention needed to regain what was, if possible.

Both you and Taehyung know one conversation is not enough to undo the fractures, but it’s a step closer towards salvation.

The end of your trip creeps up closer than you’d like. You stopped tagging along with Taehyung’s workdays because he agreed to go places with you. Days without him are spent milling around the neighbouring places of the bed and breakfast, which leads to your discovery of the best spicy rice cake just around the corner of the street. There is also the obligatory bike ride alone around the Han river, which proves to be more satisfactory than almost anything you’ve ever done.

You find yourself looking for Jungkook in-between the hours where your mind wanders and for a split second, all of your thoughts are suddenly dedicated to him. Deception comes in the form of denial when you push the aimless sentiments aside, afraid that you might get too carried away. It’s maddening to think that he only seems to show up in times of dire need as if the deity responsible for overlooking fate is playing tricks on you.

(Though you know that if you want to see him, the only thing you have to do is knock on his door. You dismiss that idea, either way, for fear of being too obtrusive.)

On the day of your departure, you wake up early to catch breakfast. You ask Taehyung if he wants to join you despite knowing the answer. He grunts in response but stays unmoving. You untangle yourself from the warmth of his body before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Food has been prepared once you’re in the dining area, but there’s nobody to be found. It immediately reminds you of the first morning of your arrival—the excited faces of the children and their parents who were engrossed in a serious conversation, and the elderly couple enjoying their morning of peace together. Two weeks have gone by, and you’re not even sure if they’re still here or if they’ve moved on to see other places, meet other people.

Inadvertently, you steal a glimpse of the kitchen door, waiting for it to swing open and reveal the one person whose smile you’ve been longing to witness one last time. You grin as you shake your head; your propensity towards wishful thinking never ceases to make you feel disheartened.

“Last time you were staring longingly at your soup, and today you’re smiling to yourself,” his voice cuts through your thoughts intrusively as he strolls in, dressed down in a pair of casual joggers and an ill-fitting shirt too big to possibly belong to him. “Hi.”

Your gaze meets his, and breathlessly, you say, “Hi.”

He doesn’t make any gesture that indicates he wants to sit and chat this time around.

“Been busy?”

“I could say the same about you,” your lips curl upwards in a small smile. There’s a landslide of things you want to ask him, topics you want to share. You want to thank him over and over, invite him for a meal or even a simple walk around town. But words seem to fail you as you shift your eyes to stare at your half-eaten plate of fruit slices.

“My older brother mentioned you’re leaving today,” he announces offhandedly, scratching the nape of his neck. You’d like to think he’s just as unsure as you on how to go about having a conversation. Is he also stumbling over his thoughts like you are?

“Uh, yeah—” you flick your wristwatch to check the time— “I just have to wake Taeyhung, and we’ll be on our way.” The rueful smile he gives you feels like a splinter prodding your heart. “You?”

“Oh, I was just on my way to grab something before heading to the gym.”

“Ah,” you nod. Unlike the last time you two shared a conversation in the same place, this one is marred by awkward pauses and long bouts of silence. Afraid this will cause him to leave, you promptly state, “I honestly thought you ended up leaving the country since I didn’t see much of you.”

“That was the plan, yes,” his smile finally reaches his eyes. “I was supposed to leave a week ago— I mean, I had already bought the tickets and despite how it ended with me and her, I still wanted to leave. But someone told me just because you try to run from your problems doesn’t mean it will not follow you there.”

You chuckle as you shake your head. He continues. “I feel like I owe it to her to grant her wishes of not wanting to see me, no matter how much I wanted to get out of this place. A lot of reasons compelled me to stay, and I think I’m better for it.”

When your gaze meets his, there’s an unstated agreement; a kinship that cannot be unbound, locked away in a time you can only revisit through your memory.

“With that being said, I might tour Europe in two months’ time, starting with Sweden,” he grins playfully, cheeks dotted with a dimple. You roll your eyes as you stand before shoving him lightly by the shoulder.

“Alright, Richie Rich, no need to rub it in. I get it, I get it.”

“You have me mistaken, Miss. This was a culmination of years of hard work and savings.”

“I’m happy for you,” you say with finality. No matter how much you did not want the conversation to end, there’s a twinge of sweetness to a farewell amidst the bleakness that often comes along; it doesn’t always have to end in thunder and rainfall.

But then he asks, “Are you happy for you?”

It might have been then, at that moment, where you’d willingly say blurt the phrase out loud, your situation be damned. But you didn’t—you couldn’t. Not when you nod wordlessly. Not when he opens his arms seemingly as a conclusion, a wordless action that says: I should probably let you go so I can also go about with my day. Instead, you carefully place the three words in your back pocket to be used later before you step into the warmth of his embrace.

He whispers a farewell and a promise that you know you’ll carry in your heart until the time fate allows you to meet again at another time and another place.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #taehyung scenario #jungkook x you #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #writing #taehyung #jungkook

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saurons-pr-department · 3 years ago

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Thank you for the tag @finwaytootired I know you tagged me in this ages ago, but I'm just like this T_T

How many works do you have on AO3?

16 apparently! Some are very very short though, 'cause they're part of a little rambly Mairon series

What’s your total AO3 word count?

33238 See! Short!

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

2-3 depending on how you group them. 1) The Silmarillion 2) The Hobbit 3) Star Wars

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) There's a First Time for Everything (or Why Only Good Things Come From Spying on Wood Elves) 2) Let me Please You 3) Can Toddlers be Tried for War Crimes? 4) An Embrace of the Spirit (I'm actually surprised by this one XD) 5) Dark Days Lie Still Before Us

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! ...Unless I forget to... If I've ever forgotten to get back to a comment you've left, I am so sorry T_T

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh that definitely has to be Take it Back. I even got complaints about it (more on that later)

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Not on AO3..... *sigh* confession time... back in the day... on FFN... I had a SpongeBob and Phineas and Ferb crossover (the lads built a submarine and went to BikiniBottom).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Hmmm.... not 'hate' exactly... but in Take it Back I decided to break up Russingon (I know, I know, I'm a monster) because Fingon thought that Maedhros had abandoned him and so had moved on. Someone left this big long rant about how I should write a sequel that basically undid everything that I had done in this one shot so that Fingon left his wife and new child (Gil-Galad Plotholeion) and went back to Maedhros and like... I get it but also, who leaves a comment on a fic saying that the writer should write a story where none of the original story happens or un-happens???

It also got a bit of a mixed comment where the person just generally seemed to enjoy the angst but also felt the need to tell me that they don't agree with the interpretation of the characters and that the characters had gone about the interaction all wrong. Messy emotions lead to messy conversations dear commenter..?

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Sometimes. Pretty tame though. It usually involves one character not really being that experienced. On one occasion it was for comedic effect, the other was because I accidently but not so accidentally wrote an aroace Melkor

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. Do I have anything worth stealing??

I was accused of plagiarising once though! Someone thought my MaironxEonwe fic was too similar to another MaironxEonwe fic on the grounds that they both showed Mairon in Aule's forges and the two were talking about a festival happening in Valinor. You know, because no one in the history of Silm fandom has ever depicted Mairon in a forge and as we all know festivals never happen in Valinor.... -_-

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Myself and @outofangband wrote a short piece on Tumblr together once! Well, it was more like they wrote something and I jumped on to their post XD It was really fun though!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Hmmm.... Angbang? Silvergifting? Fallen Banners? Mairon/Maeglin? (which I have now just decided to call Fall and Drown XD), Mairon/Eonwe?

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Hmmm.... there's nothing at the moment that I feel like I won't finish... but in terms of a WIP that I really want to finish? Dark Days lie Still Before Us

What are your writing strengths?

Honestly...? No clue...

What are your writing weaknesses?

I completely fail at getting myself to actually sit down and write in the first place. Does that count?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Oooffff, it depends... How long do I have to scroll down to the a/n at the end to get the translation and how easy is it to find my place again? XD

Can I get the gist without knowing the words (the comment was an insult or term of endearment maybe?) or have I missed out on an important convo?

How much is it breaking up my reading experience?

Sometimes it's fine, and sometimes it's a pain in the ass.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

(Don't worry Elian, we've all been there XD)

Mine would be Star Wars. Not cringy in and of itself, but the writing was deeply cringy stuff though T_T

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I had a lot of fun writing Sometimes Curiosity is Rewarded for the Secret Santa last year!

It's about Celebrimbor wanting to have a nose around Annatar's office and then essentially accidentally pledging himself to a Dark Lord (but he doesn't know that)

tagging: @foxindarkness @elennalore ahhhh, I'm blanking on who writes XD

#tag games

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thatfeanorian · 3 years ago

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I was tagged to do this writer game by @arofili! thank you!!

how many works do you have on AO3?

33 (counting my two unrevealed TSRBs)!

what’s your total AO3 word count?

177758 (wow somehow thats only a third of what I’ve written)

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I’ve written for.... literally one fandom published and 5 unpublished. We’ll stick with published since I don’t want to expose myself lmao: Just Silmarillion because I’m a high key nerd. That and the whole fandom and work facinates me to the extreme because it is so open ended and nearly any interpritation of the text can be canon!

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All The Ways To Love - 198 (a longfic about Maedhros and Fingon in an arranged marriage finding exactly what they need in each other, side appearances by baby feanorians)

Make You Mine (the way you should be) - 99 (a short Kidnap Family fic featuring prophetic dreams E&E who have known Maedhros and Maglor would always be coming for them and loved them for it)

Fëanor Finds Out Sort Of But Not Really - 78 (another Russingon fic about Maedhros and Fingon’s secret relationship being found out at the consequences that go along with that)

From The Ashes, Rising - 69 (a 13k four chapter fic-- medium length?-- about Maedhros and Fingon growing up and falling in love, a Modern AU.)

the difference between you and I - 69 (a kidnap dads fic about E&E’s first night with Maedhros and Maglor and how they began to understand that their first impressions might not have been right.)

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Always. Comments are one of the best things I, as an author, can receive and I adore each and every person who takes time to put their thoughts and appreciation into words. Thank you so much to all of you who have done that for me!!

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hooooo boy that’s a hard one. So many of mine have angsty endings on purpose because pain is always fun. Still if I had to pick one, I would choose Learn Your Place, another fic in my Modern AU “To Build the Bonds That Tie,” featuring middle school age Maedhros questioning his sexuality and being told that he doesn’t belong.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Very rarely, and I almost never publish them. The only one I have published as of right now is very old and embarrassing so I won’t link it but it was about Finrod, Turgon, and a self-insert OC being tossed into The Hobbit to try to retrieve the silmaril-arkenstone.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes I actually got my first bit very recently and I laughed so hard I almost threw up. I just don’t understand why people keep reading my fics if they know from the first few sentences they don’t like them. I’ve read my fair share of fics that weren’t my style and somehow I’ve never left a single piece of hate on any of them.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Absolutely. I write everything from very kinky sex to soft aftercare and all the variations in between. The one thing I absolutely refuse to do is non-con although I am okay with sex used as a method of torture. I love love love writing LGBTQ+ themes and do my best to incorporate as much diversity as I can into all my pieces NSFW and otherwise just because they’re not realistic if I don’t.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve gotten one request but the person who asked dropped it and never got back to me :(

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! A few of my fics are based off of an old RP server I was in with a couple friends and so as such the ideas are theirs as well as mine and I at least consider the fics co-written.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

.....if you can’t guess.... go take a look at my AO3 (I’ll give you a hint 90% of my fics contain this ship)

(it’s russingon)

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My (first) Modern AU. I have it two thirds finished and only a third published but the entire idea is so enormous that I don’t think I will possibly be able to finish it. I adore my baby and I’ll do my best but I think I made the right decision splitting it into seperate fics so that we all can enjoy the parts I do get out instead of waiting ages for things to go in chronological order.

what are your writing strengths?

I adore writing emotion and description! I feel most comfortable writing long winding explanations of the scenery and people that put you (as people have told me) right in the scene.

what are your writing weaknesses?

oh my god smooth dialogue. I struggle so much it’s painful. That’s the part of any fic that takes me the longest because I sit there saying each part out loud to myself like it’s a play and trying to decide if it’s at all reasonable.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Yes! Absolutely. I love including in-verse languages in my writing in both names, pet names, and even small sentances, but it really really bothers me when people will go on a winding speech or a chunk of dialogue in another language and then have to translate the whole thing at the bottom. Another huge pet peeve of mine is when people use words in other languages and then *don’t* translate them at the bottom. I can’t at all get the full vibe of the fic if there’s words I don’t understand!

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.... I wrote a self insert fic when I was 10 about this one elf statue at the Santa’s Village Amusement Park in NH (please don’t ask)

but if that doesn’t count --please tell me it doesn’t-- then PJO and I still write the occasional fic for them now because PJO is just iconic.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Omg that’s a hard one. I really struggled picking just one because there’s so many that I’m proud of but if I had to pick a genuine favorite I’d say... Inure, a fic I wrote a couple months ago detailing one of the darkest experiences of my life from Maedhros’s perspective. It was both incredibly hard to write and extremely cathartic for me and will remain one of the most terrifying things that I have ever had the courage to publish.

Mind the tags though, it is quite dark and can be triggering if you’ve had an experience similar to mine!

I’ll tag.... @findrahil, @sianascera, @admirablemonster and @secretlythranduil if any of y’all feel up to it!

#fey speaks #tag game #my writing #fic recs

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ryqoshay · 3 years ago

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OTP Ask Meme (Impatient Edition) NicoMaki

Yeah, I know the point of these things is to wait for followers to Ask questions from the list, but reading though this one got me thinking too much. And, as the title implies, I got impatient and wanted to answer them all. Right away.

Anyway, credit to @lonelypond for this version coming across my dash. Reblog that version if you want to do this thing correctly.

Also, just because I’ve already answered these here, I’ve expanded on some for various reasons and left others short if I believe the reasons are obvious. So if you still want to do the whole interactive thing, you can still ask for clarification or whatever.

And finally, there will be spoilers ahead for How to Handle a Nico, both scenes I’ve written and posted, as well as some that remain in my Notes and WIP Warehouse. I’ll try to remember to link to the chapters mentioned.

1. Who wakes up first?

Nico, so she can make breakfast for her Maki.

2. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Maki. Usually because she studies or works later and/or longer hours. She is also not above pulling Nico back into bed when she comes to wake her.

3. Who takes longer getting ready?

Usually Nico.

4. When they can’t sleep, what do they do?

Maki’s libido can pretty much always be counted on to at least exhaust Nico, if not both of them.

5. Who falls asleep while watching a movie?

Depends on who had a rough day or week at work/school, though Maki may get bored and either watch Nico or fall asleep during overly sappy romance movies.

6. Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

Either, depending on the stresses of the prior day.

7. Who comes up with the cheesy pick-up lines?

Nico intentionally. Maki unintentionally.

8. Who gets extremely competitive playing Mario Kart?

They both are, though in different ways. This is depicted in Consolation Prize.

9. Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling?

Maki, especially if she is in an unfamiliar place.

10. Who sets the other’s ringtone to something loud and obnoxious behind their back?

Both, though Maki only in retaliation for whatever teasing Nico may have done.

11. Who rearranges the bookshelf/DVD shelf in alphabetical order?

Nico likes a proper presentation of her idol merch. Maki is too busy with other stuff to care about special organization.

12. Who does the hands-over-the-eyes “Guess Who” thing?

Nico.

13. Who points out a dog when they see one?

Either.

14. Who’s prone to road rage?

Maki, especially when she is trying to get to the hospital when called in at some odd hour, or trying to get home after a stressful day.

15. Who’s prone to wearing socks indoor (or to sleep)?

Nico gets cold easier. Warm socks help.

16. Who reminds the other to put on sunscreen before going to the beach (or pool)?

Nico, partly out of habit from doing it with her siblings and partly as an excuse to offer to help Maki put it on. Depicted in Sunscreen.

17. Who carries all the important documents while traveling?

Nico.

18. Who gets the window seat?

Nico. Maki traveled enough with her parents and is happy to let her girlfriend see the sights instead.

19. Who puts their cold hands/feet on the other?

Nico intentionally. Maki unintentionally, usually.

20. What do they argue about the most?

I don’t believe anyone has been brave enough to track the data for this.

21. Who’s clumsier?

Maki, especially in the kitchen. Nico has her moments though.

22. Who texts more often?

Nico. With heavy emoji use. (I need to depict this more in HtHaN somehow)

23. Who is better with kids?

Nico. She was the primary caregiver for her siblings for many years after all.

24. Who’s the better cook?

Nico. See above.

25. Who mistakes salt for sugar?

Maki. Even after Nico labeled the containers.

26. Who puts the fork in the microwave?

Maki.

27. Who cooks at 2 in the morning?

Nico. Maki isn’t allowed to cook without Nico’s supervision. However, this would be a rare occasion as Nico typically will prepare something ahead of when Maki is arriving home this late and leave it for her to reheat.

28. Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1 a.m.?

Maki, when she’s reheating whatever Nico made for her after arriving home late.

29. Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?

Both.

30. Who likes doing the dishes?

Nico, though it would be more appropriate to say she doesn’t dislike it.

31. Who has bigger cravings? What are they?

Nico loves her sweets. Maki loves her Nico.

32. Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

Nico is highly attentive to Maki’s preferences in food. Knowing what Maki likes in restaurants lets her know what she can make at home. And food is definitely one of the best ways to Maki’s heart.

33. How do they eat ice cream? What’s their favorite flavors?

Nico likes sundaes with lots of sugary toppings. She also likes trying new flavors and will often get multiple scoops of different flavors. Maki is fine with a single scoop cone.

34. Do they go on dates? What are they like?

As often as their schedules allow. Maki likes quite dates like walks in a park or museum or sitting up on a hillside for stargazing. Nico likes shopping for outfits and idol merch, going to movies and bustling amusement parks. But both love watching the other enjoy their hobbies so they’re willing to go along with the other’s interests as well.

35. What do they smell when they smell Amortentia?

Nico smells her father’s aftershave, strawberries, and stewing tomatoes. Maki smells Nico’s special tomato curry, Nico’s shampoo, and the cinnamon sugar of the snickerdoodle cookies the Nishikino baker made for her to leave out for Santa.

Yes, two of Maki’s are directly related to Nico. What can I say? She’s addicted.

36. Which one is the secret snuggler?

Maki. The more tired or drunk she is, the clingier she gets.

37. Which one offers their jacket to the other when they complain they feel cold?

Maki. Nico gets cold easier, so Maki is usually the one to offer her jacket.

38. Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving?

Yes.

39. Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch?

Nico, because she is the only one who makes lunch for them both; Maki isn’t the type to do such a thing even if she were allowed to cook more. (Bonus: What does it say?) Usually the messages are simple affirmations of love, but she is not above getting snarky if the two had an argument recently.

40. Who is the most affectionate?

Nico in public. Maki in private.

41. Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

Usually, Maki is the big spoon as she is quite fond of hugging her Nico like a teddy bear, though Nico will sometimes jetpack.

42. What is their favorite feature of their partner?

Maki loves Nico’s smile, particularly her genuine, unforced, non-idol persona smile. Nico loves Maki’s voice, specifically her singing voice.

43. What is the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Nico starts teasing Maki more, no longer to “put the spoiled rich girl in her place” but rather to see more of the adorable reactions. Maki actively tries to deny her feelings, even to, or perhaps especially to herself, falling back on established habits of insisting that she doesn’t have time to date, all the while quietly continuing to seek more time with Nico.

44. What are their nicknames for each other?

Both exclusively use -chan with the other.

45. Who worries the most? Over what?

Early on, both are worried about losing the other for different reasons. Nico is afraid that should a scandal occur that ruins her idol career, Maki may blame herself and leave. Maki fears that a busy schedule of studying in medical school followed by long hours at the hospital may turn away someone like Nico, whose attention seeking seems infinite. Later, as they settle into their relationship, their concerns turn to more stereotypical adult fears; traffic or transit accidents, sever illnesses, etc.

46. Who initiates kisses?

Nico in public. Maki in private.

47. Who says I love you first? How did it happen?

Nico, by accident, as depicted in Spoken.

48. Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

Technically Maki in both cases, though with their friends, Nico was active in the chatroom, and with their mothers, Maki only beat Nico by maybe half an hour or so. These instances are depicted in Reconstructed Reunion and Telling Mama.

49. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Both have busy schedules, even as early as the years immediately following high school, so spending time away from each other is quite commonplace. This still did not stop Maki from going through a bout of depression during Nico’s first tour as a professional idol, as depicted in Homesick and Homecoming. From then on, Maki starts a tradition of visiting Nico during longer tours so as to break up their time away a bit.

50. Who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Nico, as the more romantic of the two. This isn’t to say Maki doesn’t value sentiment, she just has other ways of expressing it than being overwhelmed.

#NicoMaki #How to Handle a Nico

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wincest-gaychesters · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Questions

from @wincestismyheart / @twobrothersoneheart not sure where the questions came from originally but thanks for tagging me! This one seemed like a lot of fun so I had to do it...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 5 works published on Ao3 which doesn't sound like a lot, but then I remember a lot of my stuff is shorter and on my tumblr haha

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

My total word count is 8521 since most of my fics are one chapter and pretty short

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

One fandom: Supernatural

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well I only have 5 lol, but here they are in order of popularity based off kudos:

Just Like A Dream - in which Sam dresses up in a tiny french maid outfit to get Dean's attention. Smut ensues.

Just Mine - boyking!Sam and demon!Dean get freaky in hell's throne room, with an audience.

All of the Sinners - demon!Sam and angel!Dean meet up at a church where things get... sexy.

Baby - Dean is finally reunited with the Impala after their separation (in season 7 when they have to get rid of her in order to hide from Dick) but it's not a perfect reunion without Sam (he is there he's just like sitting back and watching Dean love his car lol)

Ain't the Same - this one's kinda hard for me to summarize. it's just like angsty teenage-ry BS from both Sam and Dean (they're like 12 and 17 respectively). Deans been hunting with his dad but suddenly gets dropped off, with Sam, at Bobby's which he thinks is some sort of sign that his dad thinks he's not good enough to keep hunting. Sam, on the other hand, has been spending pretty much all his time alone and is happy to finally have someone to hang out with but gets increasingly pissed that Dean doesn't wanna hang out with him. They "steal" (it's from Bobby's lot so not really lol) a car, sneak out to the movies, then have a cute little bonding moment after. Just general angst and fluff.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! If you liked my fic enough to sit down and write a comment, then I can take a moment to reply.

6. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I think it's All of the Sinners. I usually have open-ended endings but with the boys being on good terms. But with this fic it ends with Dean kind of asking to see Sam again, like he really wants something less casual, but Sam is very much against it because they're on two different sides (Sam's a demon and Dean's an angel).

7. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I'm not sure because they usually end pretty happy, or at least the boys are content. But I think it's between Just Like a Dream and Ain't the Same. Just Like a Dream ends after the boys' first time together with some cuddling. Ain't the Same probably is the happier ending, it ends with Dean having a realization of how happy he actually is just hanging out with his family (just Bobby and Sam at the time, but still).

8. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I've tried to do crossovers before but they never really work out. The craziest one I came up with, even though I never really wrote it cuz it was long and didn't really make any sense, was like a multi-fandom crossover, where Sam and Dean are wizards that go to Hogwarts. I think I left out the HP characters, just used the setting, or they were in the same year as Albus Potter (I can't really remember, but I was also going back and forth on a lot of the details) but didn't really interact with him/that group. Then Sherlock and John were also there and they become pretty good friends with them, especially Sherlock and Sam get along real well. And at some point I think I wanted to throw in the 10th Doctor as well (he's my fave) but he was supposed to be like the weird friend in the group who had these weird dreams about a blue box that flew through space. Then I can't remember if I was going to try and get them into the Dr Who universe through him or not. Idk, it was crazy and didn't really have a point except that I wanted to put all these characters together in this specific setting haha!

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, nothing yet.

10. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

That's pretty much all I write lol. Usually stuff with specific kinks, usually Sam/Dean, sometimes softer or more vanilla stuff. Kind of depends.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it would be cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. When I write something I tend to have a very specific vision for the story so I'm probably not so great to collaborate with anyway haha.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

Wincest. Hands down. Always.

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

That's a hard question for me. If it's something I want to finish then it's a story I still believe in so even if it's really slow progress I'm still working on it. The WIPs I think I won't finish are the ones I have already given up on because something about the story is off and I don't really believe in it anymore. If I still believe in a story then I'll finish it eventually lol.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure. I'm very terrible at self-analysis.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think my biggest weakness is writing how I feel in the moment instead of through the lens of a certain character. I also want perfection but am so bad at editing, so my stories almost never end up the way I think of them. I find it hard to capture the mood or feeling that I dream up in my head. But wanting things to be exactly how I think of them the first time is also bad, because then I don't let the story grow or get better through editing. So it's all bad really.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't think I've encountered that before. I don't wanna say I do or don't like it but I think it would depend a lot on context.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I want to say Supernatural because it's what i've written most but probably not. I don't have everything I've written over the years saved so I'm really not sure. I do remember having a handful of fics (like two or three) for Ouran High School Host Club. But even that I'm not sure was my first.

20. What's your favorite fic you've written?

It kind of depends. I just reread a fic I wrote and only published on here about Sam and Dean in college which I really liked for the writing itself. But I love All of the Sinners because of the imagery it reminds me of when I was writing the fic, but the writing itself is not good and doesn't really get the imagery across the way I'd like it to. So, I think for the feeling it gives me it's my fave.

#writer asks #some things about me #wincest gaychesters #wincest-gaychesters

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soldouthaz · 4 years ago

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I really want to start writing fics because writing has always been a passion of mine, and what better way to use it than to write about and interact with a fandom i'm passionate about as well, right? the problem is that i'm a 'gifted kid' with both adhd and depression, which makes for both lack of motivation and lack of attention span, even if I'm mentally obsessing over what I'm working on, I'll have a lot of trouble actually doing it. (1/2)

On top of that, I tend to back away or give up completely if I don't have an immediate knack for something or if I hit a roadblock of sorts. Do you have any tips for me, and, more specifically, for how to explore your passions even when your brain chemistry is kicking your ass? (2/2)

hi!! what a good question!!! I've always struggled with some of this myself so I'll do my best to give some good advice below the cut!!!

- just a quick tw for anyone who may be sensitive to topics including depression or other similar mental health conditions! -

(i’ll talk about a few things regarding the adhd/depression and then I'll include some advice at the end for you!!! this got kind of long (sorry!) but if you read anything, make sure it’s the end!)

so this was something I struggled with big time for a while when I first started writing! I don’t have ADHD but I do have OCD, which is also quite the cocktail with depression so I feel your pain! i understand how frustrating it is because writing is very two sided in my experience, meaning on one hand it’s cathartic and eases anxiety, but on the other hand it can induce those negative feelings just as quickly as it got rid of them if you’re too overwhelmed while doing so.

depression is always the heavy hitter for me personally. I can have so many ideas and so much excitement for them and yet when I sit down to write everything seems so overwhelming that I end up backing out of it and leaving it for later for the millionth time. mine is mostly seasonal as well, so i go through periods of time (like these past few months) where i get very unmotivated and don’t write much at all. it’s an annoying cycle to then feel unproductive and know that you want to do it but you don’t do it but you feel like you should etc. etc..

the ADHD (or OCD in my case) seems to always be more of an environment issue for me. I really can only write more than a few sentences once I'm alone in the dead of night, when everyone else is asleep and I'm in control of my surroundings -- for example, the volume (music, fans, tv, etc), position (where I'm sitting, what’s around me), and being comfortable (comfy clothes, blankets, etc). I'm a big sensory person so if something’s even slightly brushing my arm in the wrong way, I can’t get into what I'm doing.

but i also understand what you mean strictly focus wise, when you’re trying to plan out your ideas and just keep jumping from one thing to another! (by the way i love that you mentioned when you're not good at something immediately you tend to give up - i do the same thing!) this is where i’ll try to give you some of the tips that helped me personally!

not too get too sappy, but to me the beauty of writing has always been that there is no right or wrong way to do it. the most difficult part of it is nailing down the fact that you should write for yourself and not simply to get hits or kudos or comments or anything. it should be fun and ultimately rewarding, and if it isn’t, don’t try to force yourself!

this is where the flip side of the adhd/depression + writing debate comes in -- finishing a piece of work can be one of the best feelings in the world, no matter how big or small or if other people enjoy it or not. because now you’ve got something that you can point to and say hey, i did that! i created this thing and put it into the world regardless of the challenges i might have encountered along the way or anyone else’s judgement! and that’s a wonderful feeling, especially if you’re like me when you feel lazy or unproductive half the time and the other half of you is constantly restless, full of energy with no other outlet for it.

so my advice to you would be to start small. it took me months to finish the first fic that i published because i split it up into portions and didn’t force myself if i truly didn’t want to write that day. to elaborate about ‘small’, there’s several different options!

before i got into fandom writing, poetry was the holy grail for me because it didn’t require much effort! i used my phone or the nearest notebook i had to just scribble down my feelings in just a few lines. it helped me feel better quickly just to get it off my chest, it wasn’t time consuming, and there was no planning required so it wasn’t overwhelming to me! poetry is fun to just play around with and you can kind of make up your own rules, so feel free to try that as a warm up or experiment as well!

but you mentioned specifically fics and fandom writing, so there are some options for that as well!

drabbles are a great idea as an intro to writing in my opinion! they’re wonderful practice for finding your ‘writing voice’ and learning which genres and topics you enjoy writing about before diving headfirst into a long fic! if you plan on publishing it, they’re also a great way to set the tone for readers of what your future works will be like! (another exercise similar to this is word prompts, where you choose a random word and just try to write and see what comes out!)

WIPs are fairly controversial, but who cares? if you’ve got something you want to write and you want to publish a chapter indefinitely throughout the year just when you feel like it, go for it! it’s still a creative outlet and it’s still you expressing yourself, which means it’s fully worth it.

that being said, my entire world changed after i started outlining. if you want to write a full fic to be published at once, the most helpful thing is to have a plan. it doesn’t have to be nailed down or perfect, but even just scribbling down some random scene ideas or plot points can help! from there, if you feel like it, you can go as detailed as you want and add things like goal word count, character bios, etc. until it begins to take the shape of a full story!

while keeping all of this in mind, i know i’m stressing it but it’s so important to remember that how you view this can be the change in how all of this pans out. writing for yourself is the goal here -- getting attached to hits or kudos or reblogs only provides temporary validation. it’s nice but it’s not going to give you that emotional payoff.

you mentioned that writing was a passion of yours and writing can be extremely cathartic, especially when you’re writing about an interest or something you love! no part of it should be extremely stressful or make you more anxious than when you started. i honestly can’t recommend it enough, even if you don’t share your first drafts or if you end up scrapping parts of it later on. no matter how long or short it is and no matter if it’s something you think people will read or not.

with depression and ADHD especially, writing is the perfect mix of pushing yourself and achieving goals without going too far, and it’s helped me in my own mental health journey immensely. (most of my works are just emotion-dumps where i use my characters and storylines to cope with whatever’s going on in my current life!) it’s a type of therapy in itself, and to be able to share it in a community of people that view it the same way is just an added bonus!

speaking more generally regarding your point about trying to enjoy your interests while also dealing with mental health conditions that limit your ability to do so, my go-to method is always just to take it as it comes, or break it down into easier sections to deal with. if i’m doing something and i’m aware of and actively trying to fight an OCD tic (or in your case ADHD behavior), it’s only going to make me more anxious. so my advice would be to take a break and do something comforting to calm down, then return to what you were doing before. we have to remember to be kind to ourselves, especially in this weird time!

conversely, with depression, i try to push myself just slightly. my brain usually wants to give up and shut down and sometimes that’s okay too, but it usually pays off for me if i bargain with myself to keep going or keep trying, like promising myself a nap or some relaxing time if i can finish x amount of whatever i’m working on, if that makes sense. a little bit can go a long way!

ahh sorry, this one kind of got away from me! i’m sorry it’s so lengthy but i hope some part of it resonated with you! the ask touched on a lot of different things so if you need me to clarify anything or elaborate or if you have any more questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me again! i also made a post about my writing process a while ago if that’s something you’d be interested in, and this post from the other day has some other tips on dealing with grief/anxiety that may also be helpful for your situation!

(also, I'd just like to point out that just from your ask alone I can tell you write really well! I would be very interested in reading something of yours in the future!)

I'm wishing you the best of luck with your first venture into writing and fics, and I'd be more than happy to help you in any way that I can! I can’t wait to see what all you do <33333

#ask #misc #about me #advice

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yourlazykitkat · 4 years ago

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Abandoned WIP

This was supposed to be my Day 6 georgenap/sapnotfound fic that would have come out 2 weeks ago but I really wasn’t feeling it. Still going to write Day 6 but I have a few dreamnotnap ideas to try with the prompt instead. If ya’ll want I can post the outline (AFTERALL A LOT OF REFINING, MY OUTLINES ARE PURE MESS.) for this fic!

1. Gather the crew.

The city is cold. An eerie silence, one unnatural for a city filled with thousands of vigilant eyes, lurks in grimy roads and shattered glass. Ash falls from the sky, soft like the first snow of winter, gentle like the first rains of fall, and coat cement walls and roads of tar in black soot and grey dust. Lamp posts flicker erratically, making the night sky loom over the skyscrapers though the stars are covered by vile smogs and the moon grows ill and weak against it all. This place, it eats itself alive- craving for something more, something else but being only half satisfied every time it tears itself apart.

It’s a lovely city, Dream thinks as he exhales smoke, watching his cigarette dim. He strolls down broken paths, cracked walls and he’s greeted by a scent which reminds him of the dead. Across the street, he hears two mobs scream at each other- the usual show of poor punches and bloody swears. He wonders how many people sleep in their city- how would they? It lingers on everyone’s mind, the likely chance of your home burning up in flames at the hands of some bored teens, your prized possessions being nicked at the middle of the night. He could count on one hand the amount of people he had met who owned their own wallet and not someone else’s. Those people don’t make it that far.

He walks in front of an apartment, not bothering to ring for someone to open the front door. Locks where useless in this city- not when so many could open them up blindfolded. He barges in with a calculated push of his shoulder and waits for the elevator. There’s another person going up the stairs with him, not giving him a second thought as they continued with their paper.

The elevator dings and Dream steps out as metallic doors slide open. To his left, he spots a familiar door and knocks against the wooden plank. He hears a shuffle of feet take too long so he knocks again, more impatiently then the last.

“I’m coming, Sapnap. Relax.” The door swings open and reveals George, in a fine suit, clearly expensive and new. His hair is even gelled back and he wonders why, the shorter man is not one for dressing up so nicely.

“Lookin’ good, Georgie,” The door is slammed in his face as he whistles. He knocks again, slightly confused at his friend’s sudden aggression, “Open up.”

“No, no, no, no-” He can hear the other curse to himself, “I can’t believe we forgot- Go away Dream. I’m not helping you this year.”

“What do you mean?” Dream whined, childishly twisting at the door knob, “It’s tradition.”

“I have plans, you idiot- no Dream, stop trying to break in-”

He’s too late, the taller man already has the door unlocked and he strides into George’s apartment, collapsing on the sofa. The place is tidier than usual, no dirty dishes in the sink and he’s pretty sure the floor was mopped for the first time in years. Frustration is on his friend’s face as he scowls at him.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, I told you I was coming.”

“I did not consent to this. I should call the cops on you.” He grumbled, falling onto the couch in front of Dream.

“Authorities being competent and actually catching the best criminal in this city? That’s funny.” George rolled his eyes.

“Second best right now,” The other reminds him, “Techno’s bounty was raised a few days ago. I think it more than yours now.”

“Short-lived victory.” He smiles and his friend groans, “Polyester?”

“Wool,” His face is sour as his hands brush down invisible creases. Dream pulls out his phone, well someone else’s phone but that doesn’t matter right now, and checks the time. It’s seven and the night is still young but he’s impatient. There’s an excited hum that runs through his skin and his head jumps between his thousands of thoughts. There’s so much they had to get ready, the countdown to New Year’s Eve had already started and they’re just wasting time, sitting around.

He watches George get up again and rummage through his upper kitchen cabinet, taking out a bottle of champagne which he recognizes the brand to be top class and a glass. He pours the delicate bottle, watching rich velvet rise higher than it should and the bubbles popping when it reaches the surface.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” He grins and the other man turns to face him, scowl present and flipping him off.

“Frick off, this is for me,” George grumbles and seats himself opposite to the blond, “I’m going to need more if you’re going to force me into this.”

“You love it,” Dream laughs, blissfully ignoring the glare sent his way. New Year’s Eve is special for the blond, it’s easily the best day of the year and the other knows this. His cigarette dies pathetically and lets it fall to the ground, smothering it with his heel. His friend makes a sound of disapproval but doesn’t try to stop him since he’s busy pouring himself a second glass of wine.

There’s a knock on the front door and Dream looks up to see someone else opening the door mindlessly. He’s wearing a suit as well with a bouquet of brilliant blooms, blues and whites, at hand and the blond almost doesn’t recognise him.

“Sapnap?”

The other freezes immediately, olive eyes reluctantly meeting his, and the other man slowly walks backwards.

“D-dream? H-hey buddy, what are you doing here?” Sapnap grins weakly, wincing when he bumps his head against the door.

“What am I doing here? I texted you to come here, idiot.” Dream frowned, waving his phone in the air, “Why are you late?”

“Yeah Sap, why are you late?” George hasn’t stopped glaring, this time making his target the olive-eyed man who shrinks under both of their scrutiny. The other looks at George, then the bouquet and then Dream and laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Traffic, you know how it can be,” Sapnap is lying, the blond knows him well enough to tell but decides not to push it, “Think I drove past two dead bodies that someone forgot to bury.”

“Well, the important thing is that you’re here now,” He grinned devilishly and hears George groan behind him, “Let’s get started boys. We only have a month and-”

“I-honk no, I’m outta here,” Sapnap’s face is one of horror and the deep regret that one makes once they’ve made a terrible epiphany as he turns to leave. Dream is about to stop him when he’s stopped by a fake cough.

“Listen Swipnip, if I have to suffer,” George speaks with a petty glint and malicious smile, “We all suffer. That’s how things work.”

“But Georgie, you know how he gets-”

“Sit.”

Sapnap growls but obeys, petulantly falling onto the armchair by Dream who clapped his hands excitedly.

“Okay, now listen closely.”

#sapnotfound #georgenap #dreamteam #dreamwastaken #dt fanfic #dteamweek2020 #long post #it's actually a memey fic #crack fic #it was supposed to have hinted dreamnoblade but idk if techno likes shipping #better to be safe then sorry #working on rain god sequel rn tho #don't expect posts this month #kinktober and exams is a deadly combination

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sarah-snook · 5 years ago

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di’s masterlist

main ❀ ko-fi ❀ ao3

♡MULTICHAPTER♡

«Burn, Crash, Romance (I’ll Take What I Can Get From You)» AO3 ↬ word count: 2919 | rating: E | WIP - 1/8 chapters | collab with @richietoizer

Richie didn’t know Eddie very well, not that he would want to, and even just looking at him now, he knew that Eddie Kaspbrak was exactly all the things that Richie had tried to tell Stanley that frat boys were. His brown hair flopped into his brown eyes, pressed down by some red snapback worn backwards and beige khaki jeans that looked glued to his legs. He was hot and the smirk on his face showed that he knew it.

«How to Bring Someone Back from the Dead» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 6496 | rating: T | WIP - 3/5 chapters

He finds it in the library. The book is tucked between a couple of self-help books that Mike told him he should look into reading. It’s out of place—doesn’t belong there—but the title peaks his curiosity. How to Bring Someone Back from the Dead. He grabs the spine of the book and gently holds it in his hand, inspecting it. There’s no author, no other information, just a title and a short dedication of sorts on the first page. “For those that have hope still lingering in their hearts…” He looks around, making sure no one is watching him before he swiftly hides the small book in the pocket of his jacket.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡ONESHOTS♡

«Brave» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 809 | rating: T

He was trembling. Despite the darkness surrounding them, and the shitty dim light of the flashlight he was holding, Richie could tell that Eddie was trembling with fear. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, touch him, hold him. He wanted to tell Eddie that everything would be alright, that they would get through this.

«Coffee Shop Angel» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 2218 | rating: T

“Wow, I’ve never been called a literal angel before.” He’s no longer laughing, but his smile is wide and his eyes were still bright.

“Baby, that should be considered a damn crime,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

«Cold November Rain» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1512 | rating: T

He was an idiot. A stupid, cowardly jerk. Why had he run away? That kiss had been everything he could have ever wanted. It was soft, tender and loving. Richie had put so much emotion behind that kiss. So much, that it had scared Eddie. Scared him so much that he made himself believe it was all some kind of joke.

«Don’t Monkey Around With My Heart» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1228 | rating: T

«Forget the Past, I Want You In My Future» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 3477 | rating: T

He quickly pulled on his coat, making his way through the radio station with a smile as he waved to everyone who greeted him. ‘Keep smiling. You’re almost out of here. Just a couple more steps.’ Richie thought to himself as he pushed open the front doors and stepped outside, cold air hitting him and a chill running down his spine. He hugged himself, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm himself up.

He made his way down the stone steps of the station entrance, fishing through his jacket pocket for his car keys. The last thing he thought, as his fingers made contact with the cold metal of his keys and his foot slipped on a slippery patch of ice, was how much he really fucking hated Christmas.

[or: radio DJ Richie Tozier slips on ice and has to spend Christmas in hospital, with trainee Doctor Kaspbrak looking after him.]

«Habeas Your Corpus» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 6654 | rating: E

A beautiful blond between his legs was not the direction he thought his Monday would be going, but he wasn’t going to question it. Even if a part of him knew that doing this in a courtroom, where anyone could walk in on them at any moment, was a horrible idea. Then again, Richie wasn’t known for his good ideas, much less for his common sense, and so he shrugged away any lingering doubt as he surrendered to the feeling of Eddie’s hands.

«Held In Contempt» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 3044 | rating: E

Richie and Eddie resolve the sexual tension between them after arguing about one of their cases.

prompt: “okay but reddie au where they’re rival lawyers and court is really tense bc eddie goes by the books and richie is Richie and ofc they end up fucking after a particularly heated case…or 6…”

«How to Know If You’re On a Date With Your Best Friend» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 2213 | rating: T

He could see the way Richie looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, eyes slowly widening as he realized Eddie was coming over to sit next to him. Plopping down on the seat, he pushed Richie further into the booth, making himself comfortable. Without breaking eye contact, he placed his straw in Richie’s milkshake glass and asked, “Are we on a date right now?”

«Kiss Me By The Firelight» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1247 | rating: T

“Alright trashmouth, truth or dare?”

He looked over at Beverly, who had plopped down next to him, with a weary expression on his face. He studied her, the mischievous grin on her face not going unnoticed by an already alert Richie.

“Dare, obviously. Only pussies choose truth.”

«Kissed the Mark» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 3975 | rating: E

“Sorry, but you’re gonna have to tell me more than just your name before I let you put your hands on me.” Eddie jokes as he nods his head at Bev in thanks for their drinks. “I’m not that easy.”

“Oh ok, hmm let me think…” Richie says as he pretends to think about what he’s going to say “I like long walks on the beach and being the little spoon, plus I’m a total bottom.”

Eddie flushes at this, turning his head to avoid eye contact with Richie, and takes a sip of his beer. Richie continues to look at him, enjoying the way he continuously makes the other man blush. “What about you?”

«Love Me (If That’s What You Wanna Do)» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1286 | rating: M

It was hard to say who exactly started it. After all, both of them were slightly tipsy the night The Kiss happened. All Richie could say—as his hand slowly slid down Eddie’s back, causing him to let out a faint whimper—was that he was very happy with the outcome of it all.

«Make It Up To You» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 4612 | rating: E

Maybe it was a little fucked up that he took considerable pleasure in watching his boyfriend of almost ten years cry as Richie denied him what he wanted most, but he couldn’t bring himself to care so much. If Eddie had caught on to his little guilty pleasure, he never mentioned it to Richie, and if he had an issue with the way Richie teased him in bed, he would have definitely called him out on it by now.

«Snowed Inn» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 4612 | rating: E

Richie and Eddie are carpooling home from college for the holidays but a snowstorm hits on their way there and they have to stay the night at a b and b.

«The Future Freaks Me Out» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 932 | rating: T

“I’ll tell you one thing and one thing only spaghetti. I don’t want to think about a future where you’re not in it. I don’t want to think about you being on the opposite side of this country from me. I don’t want to think about any of that because I love you and it hurts. So please, shut the fuck up about college applications already!”

«Until I Hear It From You» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1599 | rating: T

“M-my parents sucked.” Bill said as he choked back a sob. “I mean… my own father hit me with his fucking car and then barely batted an eye. I’m terrified that I’ll fuck this up, Eddie. I don’t want to be a bad father, I want Ellie to have all the love and attention that Georgie and I never got growing up. You and Rich have two adorable daughters that have everything they could ever want…That’s what I want for Ellie. Please, Eddie, tell me how to be a good father.”

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡PROMPTS♡

Hanslon ↬“I finally found you”

Reddie ↬ 🎉👄🤒 ↬ 🐿🍌👙 ↬ “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” + 2. Road Trip AU ↬ “H-How long have you been standing there?” ↬ “You’re sick, let me take care of you.” ↬ “You make me want things I can’t have!” ↬ the gang is playing a drinking game and Eddie wins, and he wants a lapdance from Richie ↬ “You know you don’t have to try so hard with me, right?” ↬ “Are you jealous? That’s cute.” ↬ “Oh, God. We broke it–dude, he’s gonna be so pissed! This is all your fault–it was your idea!” + “… Is that my underwear?” + “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.” ↬ “they said that broken mirror equals in 7 years of bad luck”? ↬ “It’s three in the morning!” ↬ “just because i love eds it doesn’t mean i want to be with him,” eddie heard richie say. «2» ↬ “you know I love you, right?” «2» ↬ “Do you want me to?” «2» ↬ “And what exactly do you think you’re doing, my love?” ↬ You’ve literally dressed as __ for __ years, shouldn’t you change it up? ↬ You drank the punch at the halloween party and made yourself sick so I’m taking care of you ↬ excuse you, i will never be too old to go trick-or-treating and i hear the house down the street gives out full sized candy bars ↬ In the bedroom + Confessing feelings ↬ in the snow + relief ↬ claws - as an apology here’s something I wrote for you ↬ Okay but like Richie finally comes out by writing his first comedy special on his own as like therapy to work through what happened and the whole thing is about the dumb annoying hypochondriac that he was in love with as a kid. “He put his feet in my face and kicked of my glasses and I said to myself he’s the fucking one.” ↬ ficlet for my moodboard based on “he knew well enough” ↬ “I may be short, but you could at least try to make kissing you easier!” ↬ “One baby won’t hurt.” ↬ “I could spend hours just looking at you.”

Richiepat ↬ “you asked me out and I didn’t have time for dating between a full-time course load and my job(s), so I know it’s two semesters later but I’d really like to take you up on that date” + “we always end up eating alone in the school cafeteria at the same time, so when you ask me if you can join me, I’m surprised” ↬ chaotic best friends (platonic with stanpat/reddie) ↬ “My hoodie looks comfy on you.” (platonic with side reddie)

Stanpat ↬ you’re obsessed with my homemade soup that I serve at my cafe and I’m too embarrassed to tell you that I’ve only been trying out new recipes to see you get excited for the soup of the day.

Stanpatchie ↬ “a kiss as a promise”

Steddie ↬ “I catch you yelling at the printer in the library for not working and I don’t mean to alarm you since you’re clearly stressed, but I think you accidentally unplugged it”

Stozier ↬ “some idiots decided it would be funny to mess with peoples’ laundry so now we’re sorting through our dryers and you’re holding up my pink underwear” ↬ “I know you’re mad at me, but will a kiss change your mind?” ↬ “Nothing is going to happen to you.” ↬ can we talk about how “it takes hours to look this good richie” is followed by richie winking at stan

Streddie ↬ A cat followed me home and won’t leave me alone even when I put a little hat on it so I guess I have a cat now AU

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡HEADCANONS♡

↬ Ben // The Sims ↬ Reddie // Sunflowers ↬ Reddie // Chapter 1 End Scene ↬ Stozier and Reddie // Stanley and Richie dated at one point

#it fic #masterlist #it masterlist #dianawritesfic #updated: 2/17/20 #this took forever plz reblog lmao

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m1lkt3e · 4 years ago

Text

Idk what to title this as but it’s a WIP for an upcoming fic.

TW for mentions of death and guns

...

Trapped in this...Prison, if you like to call it. But at least I have Soda, my brother on my side. I’m 15 now. Wow...It’s been three years already, three years since *it* happened. I remember it as if it happened yesterday...When I was 12…. ~~~ “Let’s give it E̶̢͕̞̫̞̰̝͙̙͝v̵̻̌ě̶̛̛̘̪̌͑͑͠ȓ̵̲͖͇̙̫̣͙̌̇ͅy̷̛̙̝̻͑̔̓͐̕̚͝͠t̴̩̃̆͊ḩ̸̛̟͈͔͖́̌̆ͅĩ̷͓̑͌̂ň̷̡̻̻̟͔͑̈́̋̅̕͝ĝ̵̛̭̯́̃̒͊̾̑̈̌ we g̷̛͙̞͖͇͋̉̉͂̐̍̒̚ͅǫ̶̥̮̂̑̾̈̄̅͘ẗ̶̖̩̝!̴̘̮̰͙̺̙̫͇̥̃̏͑͂̎̕͘͘ ̴͔̳͑̍͛͒͐̿͆̈́̚Ị̶̣̥͎͖̋ͅt̶̫͈͆͋̿͊̈́̀̽͗͝'̶̧̢͓̦͛̑̀̿ͅs̷̯̥̱̱̲̖̮̯͋̉̑̍̽͗̈́͜͝͠ͅ.̷͇̲̰̻̪̰͆̒͋͘.̴̗̙͐͑̃̔̇͝͝.̶̧̻̘͔̻̺̮͊͒̑̿͊̌͐̉̀͝ ₱Ʉ₦ł₴Ⱨ₥Ɇ₦₮ ₮ł₥Ɇ!!”

Their voice just sounded so...Glitchy, it wasn’t normal either...I vividly remember Yogurt sobbing. Just letting it all out. When they all just let down the gravel...It was over. It was fucking over. The masterminds are dead...We’re free...WE’RE FREE!

The excitement didn’t last long. ~~~ It isn’t *too* bad once you get around it, it’s mostly children around babies to legal adults, like Soda, I’ve haven seen any adults lately...Well except Soda of course.

“Do you feel...Bored?”

“No, why?”

“I don’t know,” I agitated the spoon around the mug in boredom. “It gets a little repetitive, y’know, three meals a day, sleep, then it happens all over again.”

“...Do you just want to escape?”

He was silent.

I found myself silent as well.

“What happened to everyone else?”

“...”

“...I heard that the third game fell into despair and now is destroying the world...Out of all people, why save us?” “Probably because it was their last hope.”

“But...If one god sacrificed themselves and they’re trying to restore hum—cookie life, why aren’t they doing enough?!”

“...”

Oh. Someone knocked.

I was still short, (Or, to be real, grew 2 inches.) so I still have to use extra support, but it wasn’t as necessary.

“Hello..?”

No response.

“Hello…???”

Ugh.

“Must be some prank.”

“Maybe.”

“Wait.”

I grabbed Soda’s wrist and glanced outside. Streets destroyed, remains littered, just...Ugh.

“Pe—”

“We need to leave.”

“Wait wha—”

“We need to leave, NOW. We’re all going to die here!”

I tugged on him, banging on the door to let us out.

“Let us out!! We’ll die here!”

It was no use.

We'll never escape.

I breathed heavily as I slid down the door, crying. I didn’t want to die here.

“Peppermint…”

“It’s no use..! We’ll be here forever! And—and…!”

“Peppermint.”

“H-huh?”

“You never gave in to despair right?”

“No..Why are you bringing that?”

“You’re 15. 15. You’re still here.”

“I guess you’re right..”

“Good.”

A clank was heard, then something opened.

“The door…!”

I got up, but Soda didn’t move.

“Why are you still standing there?! C’mon! Freedom’s right there!”

“Wait—Pepperm—”

“Well?!”

He sighed as he followed his sib.

——

“We’re out of there….Finally!”

“Do you not realize what DANGER could be out here?!”

“We can find an escape, and we can talk about it from there…but for now...

...Where are we?”

“...”

“I don’t know either, but we can walk around, I mean this place’s deserted anyways.”

We both started to walk, however, I was walking a little slower because I was still a bit out of breath.

“Where do we even look anyways?”

“We can just look around, of course being careful.”

“Ok..” —— “Wait—You never mentioned something.”

“What?”

“Those old wanted pictures...Who are they?”

“Oh them? They’re just the ‘high class’ except its a huge cult that every 4 years of so they all commit a huge massacre that basically kills the entire cookie species unless she makes a new batch, then they all commit suicide after. However, they all faked their deaths and now they’re fucking stuff up.”

“Are—are there any other survivors other than us?!”

“Not sure…”

“Let’s just keep walking.”

It took forever, but we found *some* way to escape.

“All the way over there..?! Shit—I don’t think my conch shell can do anything. Wait— Soda, do you still have your surfboard?!”

“Yeah—”

“Then c’mon! This is the only way of our escape!”

“You’re not thinking this th—”

“I am. Why do you think I’m going through this in the first place anyway?! Clearly the people that we call gods aren’t DOING ENOUGH. WHY SIT HERE AND LET THE WORLD GO TO WASTE WHEN WE SAVE IT WHILE WE STILL CAN?!”

“...”

“You can go your own way. I’ll go on my own.”

He didn’t bother questioning it, he went one way, I went another. —— I keep thinking,

‘How can I even—I can’t fight them all alone. Hell, I don’t even have any weapons to begin with! There’s at least 5 of them, and I’m pretty sure that one of them doesn’t even want to be there!

Are they even that powerful anyway? What the hell am I thinking?! Two of the members are the children of Dark Enchantress...No wonder why about 90% of the world is destroyed.

And where are all my classmates anyway?! I mean I get Squid Ink and Walnut because they’re still in the tower...Or at least one of them is. But where the hell is everyone else?! Mostly Yogurt Cream thought. Wait—why am I even worried about him?! He’s a spoiled whiny brat that doesn’t get far in life!

I’m pretty sure that everyone’s dead, because of them. No no, not the cult members, the ones from the third game, they got brainwashed or something on the lines.

Speaking of the brainwashed, they pretty much destroyed everything. Why wo—SHIT—Oh, nevermind. It’s just a rotting corpse.’

Ugh.

Wait—Is that one of the members? It’s kind of hard to tell…

I hid behind a destroyed part of a random building

“Is that the last of them?”

“Maybe.”

“I think I saw another one down the street, but it might be my imagination…”

“Hm alright.”

“Leader’s going to be proud of this…”

Good. They left.

I stood up, peeked over one last time, then ran across the street to a random building.

I breathed heavily as I felt like someone was behind me…

I’m fine…

Yeah. I’m fine.

They can’t kill me because I’m a child.

Even though I’m 15…

That counts as a child, right?

Someone, please tell me that counts as a child...Right…? Right..? Right?

Right?

——

The red lights dimmed for a second before turning up its brightness, blinding the cookie that was inside for a bit.

He blinked. He was pretty used to it by now.

The room was just red, he was just muttering to himself, a red room, like Satan's hellhole.

The only thing that he could really see was red.

It was just an all-white room with some type of lights that could change color with a remote.

Is this it?

Is this the hellhole he’ll be stuck in?

There is no escape to this anyways.

The lights turned up its brightness again, making him curl up and tried to prevent the lights from blinding him.

The lights stayed like that until it toned down. Not after shutting off after.

Well, the darkness is better than this.

But it wasn’t.

It keeps coming back.

It could grab him by the shoulders and he won’t know it.

He grabbed a hold of his lilac-colored hair with both hands and pulled on it. He couldn’t tell if he was crying or it was just sweat because of how humid the room was. He tugged on it for a bit longer before letting go.

Why was he even here in the first place?

He didn’t know.

It seemed like forever.

…. He forgot where he was at this point.

It just felt like a never-ending nightmare.

“Hey.”

He looked up. The door was open, a bright light blinded his eyes.

“Sorry. The lights stopped working, but that doesn’t mean that we’ll set you free.”

“...”

“Just enjoy the light for a bit while we fix it.”

This could be his chance!

Even though his legs are probably jello at this point, he still stood up and ran. He didn’t bother turning back. Even though he forgot the way the threw him in (Because he either forgot or he’s just stupid)

It was pointless running, but when he finally found the exit, he pushed it—well, not really because he lost all his strength.

He sighed, but he had to go. He can’t be here any longer.

… It was a rather large city, but almost no one was in sight, only drug dealers and loners walking down the street.

He slowed down his pace, by now he was far from the INC. by now.

He stopped walking to put up his hair, then sped walked after.

Zero coins in his pocket.

Fucking excellent.

It was dawn, he felt like someone was following him.

He ran.

He didn’t look back.

Well, he did,

But just to find no one there.

He sighed and kept speed walking.

…

He found a small bench, normally he would REFUSE to associate with anything that’s “below his standards” but this was an exception.

It was the only choice he had.'

He still missed lilac, hell, even Pomegranate. Y’know, the one who basically ruined his life. He just sat there, Just spacing off.

He took off his uniform jacket and tied it around his waist.

He was talking to himself, thinking about how everything Just went...Wrong.

——

Huh?

Is this another town…? And it isn’t destroyed?

Who’s that…?

“Hey!”

The cookie flinched, pretty sure they’re shaking, Wait—have I’ve seen this cookie before...They look familiar…

“Hey...It’s ok! I’m not one of them!”

“T-them?!”

“Um yeah!—The cult leaders? You know them??”

“H-how the hell are you just gonna walk up to a random person and ask them if they know that—that CULT?!”

“Ok ok sorry…But you still look familiar..Have I seen you somewhere before?!”

“Huh?”

“The killing games...Remember…? The project, you uhm...Didn’t wake up aft—”

“D-don’t remind me…”

“S-sorry.”

“Why are you so apologetic f—”

“Wait.”

“...”

“What happened to you..??”

“O-oh that...Uhm wh-where do I even fucking explain?! The entire ‘coma incident’, THAT, and I was kidnapped by some weird cookies that said that I’m ‘Associated with the cult leader.’”

“Hold on, ‘associated with the cult leader’?!”

“Yeah why?? Are you o-one of them too?!”

“W-what?! No! I’m from that building that keeps kids in to prevent further extinction of the cookie species until she makes another batch…”

“Oh.”

“...To prevent what happened years ago…”

“...”

“How come you aren’t dead, like the rest of them..?”

“I escaped.”

“Huh? Escape what?”

“I didn’t get kidnapped from them, but by some foundation that I don’t know the name of…But I would’ve killed myself if I stayed there...”

Oh.

“I still haven’t gotten—Wait, I think I remembered now...Yogurt Cream right?”

“Yeah—Wait, how did you get my name NOW?!”

“It’s been three years, of COURSE I’ll forget.”

“Fair…”

“How—how long had you been there..?”

He took a second to respond, looked like he was about to break down.

“Yogurt….How long have you been there…? When did they—they ‘kidnap’ you…?”

“Literally after a month, after all that happened—”

He broke down.

“W-why..out of everyone, they choose me…”

He looked up to me.

“Why couldn’t they have taken YOU?!”

“ME?!”

“You were associated with the cult leader the most..how aren’t you...you—”

“I WAS STILL A CHILD! I DIDN’T REALIZE WHAT THE HELL THEY WERE GOING TO DO AFTER! YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR THIS!”

“...”

“What did..what did they do?”

“N-nothing really. Just put me in this room and just kept me there for so..long.”

“Well..You’re out now...And god knows if they’re still following you.”

“...”

“Oh, and by any chance do you know this place?”

“No—No of course not. This was just a town that I randomly went to. W-what makes you think that I know where this place is?!”

“Ah, your stupidity is still there. Great.”

“H-hey! I’m not dumb!”

“Ok...You know what a vote is?”

“A..Vote...You still trade those with bear jellies…??”

“You’re hopeless.”

“D-don’t blame me! Blame those idiots that kept me in that prison for god knows how long!”

“That’s fair.”

“WAIT.”

“What now?!”

“We don’t have anything to defend ourselves…”

“Oh.”

“Where do we look..?”

——

Cult.

What’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Something that summons stuff? Imprisonment? Daily Russian Roulette that leaves poor innocent cookies dropping down dead? Anything?

You may think of a huge number of people, but this cult isn’t the case.

You see, this marks the third year, and usually, the cult doesn’t do the massacre until another year later. However, the Cult Leader, [redacted] was too impatient a full of despair to wait another year to start the massacre, so their twin sister, [redacted] ordered her to keep all the child cookies in a building, originally it was going to be underground, but due to no time and the leader running out of ideas, they choose a 60-floor building to keep them all in.

Oh, and for your information, the cult only has 5 members.

“Russian Roulette anyone?” the leader asked the other 4.

“No.”

“No thanks.”

“This is the third time [redacted], it’s getting boring.”

“Anything that leader wishes!” [redacted] sprouted up.

“Seriously [redacted]?!”

“You’re insane.”

“[redacted], dear, aren’t you bored of Russian roulette…?”

[redacted] leaned closer to her peers, then said in a low toned voice—

“I’ll do anything that [redacted] wishes. It’s our job to have their wishes granted. If they want to start the massacre early, let it be it. If they want to kill the children, we’ll kill the children.”

“I-I’m pretty sure that they don’t want to kill the children, [redacted]!”

“Yeah, he’s right [redacted]. There’s no point in killing the children if we just die altogether and no one’s on this terrible...thing of earth.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Since that’s out the way,” [redacted] slid the gun down the table, perfectly stopping in the middle of it. “Russian Roulette?”

“[redacted] for the 2nd time, no.”

“Ugh fine.”

“Guuuyyys if [redacted] wants to do Russian roulette then we should!!”

“[redacted], were not doing Russian Roulette for the third time this week alone!”

“You’re all boring, I swear.” [redacted] twirled the gun with their fingers and slid it across the room for some odd reason rather than placing it back in its case.

“Why are you so extra for it? All we said was that we didn’t want to play Russian Roulette for the third time this week alone.”

“Got any other suggestions then?!”

“We can ki—”

“[redacted] I swear to fucking god if you say ‘kill the children!1!’ I will unleash my almost whole-life pent up anger.”

“Ok ok sorry.”

“Fine fine, we’ll do it [redacted]. But this is the last time we’re doing it this week, ok?!”

“Oh good.” —— They were all sitting in a circle, with the gun in the middle of it. It was rather dimmed, but they all didn’t care.

Of course, the first to go was the cult ruler.

They pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

They sighed as they passed the gun to their twin sister. She pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing again.

This went on until the 4th round.

[redacted] pulled the trigger again.

Click.

“Again…?” At this point they were getting bored, it’s been 3 rounds and no one died yet.

Their older twin gave a low chuckle as they held the gun to her head and pulled.

Click.

“Hm.”

She passed the gun to the youngest of them, he did the same that [redacted] did and pulled.

Nothing.

He seemed to be relieved by that . His lover was next. She pulled the trigger. Another lick was made. The repeated clicking made [redacted] annoyed. There’s more clicking than shooting!

Finally, the last member of the cult went. She pulled the trigger.

BANG.

“...”

“There goes, Alchemist.”

“So you’re not going to do anything about it?! One of your members just died! From Russian Roulette!!”

“It’s despair fueling.”

——

“Where are we going first..?”

“How should I know? We should be a least far from...there..”

“There?”

“...I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fair...I wouldn’t give advice anyways.”

“Wait wha—?!”

“Nothing.”

“W-whatever...”

“Hey...Since we’re on the topic of the Cu—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ah...S-sorry.” ——

“So what do we do with the body since this was [redacted]’s idea…?”

“Since my sibling isn’t here...I’ll put up a memorial for her…. She was close to them. When they said that ‘it’s despair fueling’, it isn’t ‘despair fueling’. They’re upset.”

“Wait, they’re upset?!”

“Yeah..? if they weren’t almost all of us would be dead by now.”

“Y-yeah, you’re right [redacted]...”

“Hm.”

“I’ll go talk to them. They open up to me more than most of you here.” [redacted] walked out the door, stepping over Alchemist's body.

[redacted] followed her, also stepping over the body.

~~~

“[redacted]?”

“...”

“Can we talk? It's important.”

“...”

“[redacted]?” She sat next, but kind of far from them, “Are you ok?”

“...” Nothing. “...Yeah.”

“Really…? Your tone says otherwise.”

“Mmhm.”

“Please actually talk to me.”

“I’m fine.” They turned to her. They open up more with their sister than anyone.

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re being stubborn. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“...”

“Mom was right. I should’ve sent you instead of him. It’s a shame that I was your twin anyways.”

They walked out immediately after. [redacted] sighed and closed their door.

[redacted] laid down and hugged onto a pillow, nearly crying too.

——

“Where—where are we..?” I asked him, he seemed shaken up a bit but I didn’t realize.

He didn’t respond.

“...”

“Are...You ok..?”

“...Yeah.”

“Hm...M’kay.”

“Wait...Do you recognize this building..?”

“Wait... what..?”

“That one.” I pointed to a 50-story building. “Do you...Recognize it?”

“N-no...I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You sure..?”

“...Yes.”

“...Ok—hold on... Who’s that..?”

“...fuck.”

I turned to him, “What was that..?”

“Nothing. You heard nothing.”

“...Doesn’t that look like someone...Clearing a...Dead bod—”

“WILL YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT IT NOW?!”

I jumped, “Ok ok! No need to get aggressive…”

“Oh...Look who it is...My dear brother.”

“...”

“Hmm? You know this person?”

“...Unfortunately.”

“I believe we never met..Peppermint is it?”

“Huh? How’d you know my name?”

“My twin knows all about you..the traitor right?”

“Traitor..?”

“Yes…”

“Wait...I don’t know your name...So how can I trust you..?”

“Oh right...My apologies...My name is Pomegranate.”

“You already know my name so...I have a question…”

“Hm?”

“You know Yogurt? You called him brother earlier…So are you two related in any way?”

“Don’t bring—”

“Oh yes...Him and [redacted] are related to me...However, something happened between our childhood and I somewhat remained.”

“How’d you...remained? Were you the favorite child or something?”

“Possibly so…”

“Please stop talking about it…” Yogurt muttered under his breath, but neither of us heard him.

“Are there other people inside?”

“Yeah...If you were looking for the cult after all..”

“Wait...The cult?!”

“Yes. If that’s what you’re looking fo—”

“Yes. That was exactly what I was looking for.” I lied.

-Random time skip-

Pomegranate followed both of them into floor 49. It was pretty high up, as you can tell, you’ll get a great view of the destroyed city with dead bodies and blood everywhere.

“The leader is...Somewhere. They’re just upset.”

“Fair.”

“I don’t think you’ve heard of the others yet…” Pomegranate lowered her voice.

“Are they here?”

“Hold on. Stay here with my brother...ok?” I nodded as she walked off to a separate room.

“Why does she call you your—Hey…! Where’re you going?!”

He didn’t answer as he walked back to the elevator.

I sighed…

Pomegranate came back with two other cookies, who I’ve seen before...But I forgot their names. Definitely seen them before…

“Wait…Isn’t this the kid that the leader wants us to kill?” One of them asked.

“Wait what?! For what?!” I stepped back.

“Well get to that later, anyway, these two idiots members are Mint Choco and Cocoa.”

“Wait, what about that part that one of them said?! That the leader wants to kill me?!”

“Oh, [redacted]. You’re just in time...We were just giving introductions too…”

“...”

Seems like they’re not in the mood.

“Well, Uhm....This is my younger twin...Lilac aka the cult...leader.” it was awkward for a bit until they spoke.

“I could’ve done it but..thanks.”

They didn’t seem too grateful about it. About the time Yogurt came back, he wished that he would’ve just stayed there . “I-I thought you D-DIED—?!?!”

“Died..? You already forgot that those two games were simulators correct?”

“I—”

“Besides,” They sat at a near table, “how’d you escape..?!”

“W-why the fuck should I tell you?! You’re the last person I trust—!”

“I’ll just go…” I stepped back a bit, trying not to alarm the Cult.

“Where’re you going..?!” one of them grabbed me by the arm.

“Hey. We still need you for our family business~!” The leader said clapping their hands together.

“What?”

“What ‘business’...?”

“I know for a fact that there isn’t any ‘family business’.”

“Huh?! What are you talking about?! What family business?!”

“What? You don’t know what I’m talking about?!”

“No. What are you talking about Lilac?!”

#lilac cookie #peppermint cookie #Yogurt Cream Cookie #cocoa cookie #mint choco cookie #alchemist cookie #pomegranate cookie #these r so ooc im so sorry #soda cookie #cookie run #cookie run angst #jbrbfhcbivvcqy

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