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jgukmilk · 4 years ago

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he won’t know 03 (m) final

➔ summary: after weeks of hiding from the world, your friend, Mina, finally convinces you to crawl out of your cave and join her at a friday-frat party. You definitely didn’t think you’d end up with the person you had spent several weeks trying to avoid.

➔ pairing: Jungkook X Reader

➔ genre: cheating!au, smut, angst if you squint, much deserved fluff fucking finally

➔ warnings: mention of sexual assault, unprotected sex, soft sex because i’m a whore for that shit, jungoo is the one crying in this part, jungoo being a soft idiot nothing out of the ordinary, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), handjob, fingering, mild dirty talk, cervix kisses :), cum eating, throat fucking•_•, runny mascara because it’s chef’s kiss, soft dom jungoo, a really lame biology pick up line at the end that i am pathetically proud of, that’s it..? it’s unedited btw :P

➔ wordcount: 8.3k

➔ a/n: this was a bitch to finish but holy fuck. hope you enjoy ;) feedback is always appreciated !

part 1, part 2, part 3 final.

It had officially been seventeen and-a-half days since Jungkook came to visit you at your dorm, only to end up in you crying your eyes out in front of him and shove him out of your room.

Mina came home later that night and questioned your tear-stained cheeks. Did you tell her? No, of course not. You brushed it off and convinced her that you were having a hard time with the breakup with Jaehyun, that everything was still so fresh, and you simply just needed time. Though that was as far from the truth as it could possibly be, she believed you regardless which you were thankful for.

You didn’t miss Jaehyun, not one bit. You hadn’t seen him after your last encounter, and you thanked your stars daily. To be honest you weren’t given a chance to run into that asshole since you had reduced your time spent outside of the dorm.

Your schedule pretty much consisted of wake up, go to your classes, come back to the dorm, study, eat, sleep, repeat. It sounded like one of those shabby T-shirt every twelve-year-old would wear back in middle school and show it off for being ‘quirky’.

You weren’t complaining, you preferred things this way, for now at least. Though you couldn’t deny that you missed your friends, but you needed some time alone and you knew that, so to distract yourself from missing your friends, what better way to do so than studying till the ass-crack of dawn on a Friday night.

Fridays were the only day of the week you could spend peacefully unbothered. Every other day would consist of countless texts and calls from your friends asking about your whereabouts and why they almost never saw you around campus anymore.

To which you told them you were busy studying and thanked them for checking in on you. It wasn’t a complete lie, you were, in fact, busy studying. They never saw you because, you were always on your desk burying your face between the pages of a textbook. What you didn’t tell them was that you were so far ahead with the curriculum that you could go a whole two weeks without even touching any of your books and you wouldn’t be behind.

You never realized how much you had read ahead until a few days ago when your biology professor had only begun to teach you about DNA replication, transcription and translation. You had already covered half of it.

Your professor always did say that the unspoken rule of studies was to always read ahead. Though you didn’t think he meant to this certain extent.

You hadn’t felt academic stress in a while due to your habit of studying so much, and you were happy about it of course, but holy fuck, you were so bored, and it was starting to get to you.

“Y/N!” perfect timing for your best friend to break you out of your thoughts. Mina happily pranced through your shared dorm room and over to you, “Mina” you said back, smiling, although not in the same enthusiasm, meh – A for effort.

“Oh my god, you’re actually awake,” she said, placing herself on her bed while remaining eye contact with you.

“Well yeah, I have some topics I still need to cover before I go to bed,” Lies. You certainly didn’t have any topics you needed to cover. You would’ve gone to bed if you knew Mina was coming back to the dorm so early. It was Friday night after all, which meant that Mina was out partying with the rest of the guys. Not today, apparently.

“Isn’t there a party today?” you asked, flipping through the pages of the book in front of you, pretending to read through the paragraphs that seemed like nothing more than dull words.

“Well… yeah, but, I figured I’d rather spend my night with you – you know, since it’s... it’s been a while,” you immediately stopped fiddling with the paper, “oh,” was all you could say. “I-I mean, if you wanna study, you totally can! I don’t want to interrupt or – or anything.” You shook your head, “no, no… uhm, I could use a break anyway.” Her face relaxed.

“So… how’ve you been?” you looked around the room, “I’m okay, just studying, nothing else really,” you reassured her “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said, barely above a whisper, however you could still make out the melancholic tone hidden behind her voice.

“yeah… I’m sorry, I’m just – “

“studying? Yeah that seems to be your entire world lately.” She cut you off, her voice a little louder than it was previously. You opened your mouth to respond but – “Y/N c’mon, I know I haven’t necessarily been with you physically lately, but I’m not oblivious. Our exams are in a couple of months and you’re studying as if they’re tomorrow.” She explained all in one breath, “the curriculum this semester isn’t even that content-heavy, even the professors told us we could take it easy.”

“where are you going with this?” you asked in a weak voice. She seemed to have you all figured out. You truly underestimated how well your best friend understood you. “I just want to know why? Why are you avoiding your friends… why are you avoiding me?”

And then it came back. Everything you had been trying to avoid for the past two weeks came back. Jaehyun, the cheating, the assault, Jungkook. You began to feel your eyes stinging, subconsciously you averted them towards the ceiling. “Y/N, there’s something you’re not telling me. I want to help, please let me help.”

You made your way towards the bed, seating yourself next to her, “is this about Jaehyun? Do you miss hi–“

“No, God no I don’t, I’m so happy he’s out of my life,” she looked at you perplexed. And so, you told her. You told her absolutely everything, all the way from Jaehyun trying to touch you when you were trying to explain yourself to him, to the conversation you had with Jungkook in your dorm room several days ago.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you swiftly reached for her hand as you saw her attempt to rush out of your shared dorm, “no! I… It’s over now, he’s out of my life, there’s no reason to go look for him.”

“Of course there is! Why didn’t you–!” She yelled, however quickly stopped herself to calm down. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? He’s getting away with this when he deserves to rot in hell.” It wasn’t that simple. You never wanted to see him again, and telling any form of authority about what had happened certainly meant you were going to cross paths with him often.

Plus, it wasn’t even likely that they would’ve believed you, after all it was your word against his. There was no physical evidence of what he had done. You had your ripped clothes but you threw those away the day after the incident, you never wanted to look at them again and be reminded of this crap.

Then you had the bruises on your wrist, but Jaehyun could easily say that you guys had been into some sort of bdsm to make them believe him. They were also healed now, so there was no evidence at all to secure your side.

“I don’t want to constantly be reminded of what he did, I just want to move forward. Please, you can’t tell anyone.” Your voice cracked at the end, in which Mina reached out to hold your hand. “I don’t want anyone to know,” you cried.

“I’m so sorry, bug,” Mina rubbed your back empathetically, in a subtle attempt to calm you down. Though Mina tried her best to not scream at the top of her lungs, spitting out every profanity to curse Jaehyun. This wasn’t about her, and she knew that very well.

All she could do was comfort you and listen to everything you had bottled up for weeks. “You know what you need?” she smiled at you gently. You sniffled, rubbing your red, tear-stained cheeks, “what?”

“You need fresh air, to doll up and feel good! We all miss you so much Y/N, I don’t want you to spend another Friday night in here alone by yourself.” You raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue, “Wooyoung’s parent are out of town for the weekend so he’s hosting are party.”

“And?”

“And we’re going!” she clapped excitingly, “no Mina I–“ she held both your hands tightly, puppy eyes were presented right in front of you, “pleaseeee, just for an hour, you can leave after that if you don’t like it.”

You thought about it for a moment. You did deserve a break, you needed to get out of the dorm anyway, have some fun with your friends, maybe even get a bit of well-deserved alcohol in your system.

“Fuck it, let’s do i–“

“YES! Okay, okay I know exactly what you’re wearing.” She rushed over to her closet, rummaging through fabric after fabric while you silently watched behind her, seated on your own bed. “Put this on right now,” You didn’t get a good look at the clothing item she threw at you, all you knew was that the fabric was quite tiny. It was a beautiful dark navy and black fabric that was smooth to the touch.

It was a woolen, striped bodycon dress. True to its name – it looked very tight. You looked at her perplexed, “that’s me being nice. My other option was throwing you my skirt that would barely cover your juicy ass.” You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “fine, what shoes with?” she pointed at your black high-top converse that were placed neatly by the door. Alright, black converse it was.

–

“Y/N?” was the first thing you heard when walking through the door, entering the crowd of drunks. Before you stood your friends, the friends you had missed oh so much. Jimin was the first to run to you, lifting you off the ground to swing you around, “Y/N!” He laughed excitingly. Right behind him stood Seokjin, “Okay, I’ve had too much to drink guys I’m starting see Y/N,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Hi Jin.”

One by one, they each gave you a heartwarming hug. Wow, you missed them, and you didn’t even realize, “about time you got out of the damn dorm,” Taehyung complained, you playfully slapped his shoulder. “You don’t get to say shit, you rot in your own dorm just as much as I do when you don’t have classes,” smiling, he scoffed, “I have altered my ways, about time you did too,” you shook your head.

You hadn’t noticed that an hour had already passed by, and you didn’t want to leave one bit. Your night was just getting started. Looking around you spotted all your friends, all but two. Neither had you seen the entire party: Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Jin!” you loudly spoke through the banging music, “yeah?!” he replied, “have you seen Yoongi?” you cupped your mouth in attempt to speak as clearly as possible, “What?! No thank you! I don’t wan’t Oolong tea. There’s booze why would I want tea?!” You rubbed your face, dragging Jin’s ear closer to your mouth, “Have you seen Yoongi?”

“OW, Jesus woman.” He rubbed his ear, “He should be in the kitchen,” you thanked him, and apologetically smiled for almost ripping his ear off.

You skipped your way through the heavy crowd of drunk youth. Some of which even looked younger than that. A string of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ was heard from you as you pushed your way to the kitchen.

“Yoongi?” he turned around, seeing you. He eyed the drink in his hand that resembled the color of piss, “I’ve had too much,” the bottom of the cup now faced the ceiling, the remainder of the liquid spilling down the edge of the cup and down the sink.

“Okay, you guys really have to stop doing that,” you laughed.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” The mint-haired boy asked in a monotone, your smile faltered.

“I’m happy to see you too?” your voice was skeptical. He seemed annoyed, which frankly, you didn’t understand. You hadn’t seen the man in well over two weeks, no way had he found a reason to be mad at you unless you had happened to eat the last lamb skewer in his dream. He always did love his lamb skewers.

“’M sorry, my head’s spinning,” instantly your suspicion was replaced with worry. You quickly made your way to the sink and filled a glass with cold water and handed it to him, which he gratefully accepted. “How’ve you been?”

You sighed, “you want the rainbow-sprinkled version or the one that was dragged through the mud, shat and pissed on,” he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take the piss-stained version, thank you.” He placed the red, water filled plastic cup next to him on the kitchen counter.

“Rough couple of weeks. I’m doing better though, so that’s something.” You shrugged your shoulders. Yoongi listened carefully, gently tilting his head to the side anticipating for you to keep going, however you didn’t, that was all you were going to say. Yoongi wasn’t stupid, clearly something had happened to make you disappear for weeks, but whatever it was it had to remain unknown for him – he wasn’t going to push you to talk to him.

“And where’s Jaehyun been through all of this?” he speculated.

“Uhm, we broke up,” you tried to laugh it off. His brows raised in surprise.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry–“ your hands swung in front of you to shake them. To Yoongi, you had most likely looked like you were sad from the breakup, understandably so. Afterall that is the typical reaction to a breakup, isn’t it?

“Don’t be! My god, no. It could – I’m not –“ you closed your eyes, sighing gently, “It was for the best.”

“I’m not going, Tae,” Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger, attempting to rub the non-existing headache out of his temples.

“Come on, Jungkook. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve partied with all of us,” a hot minute, was putting it lightly. Jungkook was currently in his own shared dorm with Taehyung, with a black DualShock controller seated in his lap – enjoying a game of overwatch shortly before Taehyung had dialed his number. Several empty packets of ramen placed randomly across the room.

Different flavors of course. Variety was important.

“Can’t. ‘m busy.” Though Jungkook couldn’t see it, he was sure Taehyung had rolled his eyes through the other line. “Busy my ass,” Taehyung sighed, “you do this every week.”

“I wouldn’t have to do this every week if you would just stop asking,” Jungkook spat back, with a little more attitude than he had intended. “Jungshi,” the older friend started, “you can’t let this bother you forever,” he knew. Fuck, no one knew better than Jungkook that he couldn’t spend the rest of eternity sulking over this. Over you.

But no one knew how Jungkook was feeling either, every living fiber of his felt either conflicted or guilty. He couldn’t help but think that what had happened to you, was partially his fault – no, it was entirely his fault. Whatever Jaehyun had done was because of Jungkook.

Your words circled back and forth in his mind, day and night. Whenever he closed his eyes all he could see was your tear-stained orbs looking at him with so much hurt and hatred. Telling him to leave and that you never wanted to see him again.

All he wanted to do was talk to you, to know how you were feeling. Were you okay? Were you not? Jungkook had to make peace with the fact that he might in fact never get any answer for any of his questions. All he wanted was to see you, just for one small, useless moment.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Frankly, it seemed like you had completely vanished from the face of the earth, even the guys hadn’t seen you. He managed to get a hold of Mina a few times, briefly asking of your whereabouts. She always tried her best to console and reassure him that you were okay, you were just always busy lately.

Busy.

You were always busy. Jungkook wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what it meant: you were escaping.

Busy.

Oh, how Jungkook had grown to hate that word. How very hypocritical of him, he was mentally scolding you for using the lame excuse of being ‘busy’, all while doing the exact same behind the screen of his phone to his best friend.

“I just need time, hyung.” Jungkook tried to justify. “Time?” Taehyung scoffed, “You’ve had two weeks. I’m sorry Guk, but I’m not gonna sit around while I watch you completely lose yourself.” The younger slid further down the chair, staring blankly at the bright screen displaying the home-screen of his favorite video game.

“She’s here.”

Silence…

You… you were there? He could see you. Jungkook had a chance to see you. “Good to know,” was all he could say. “And you don’t give a rat’s ass?” Of course, he did, but he couldn’t because, “she doesn’t want to see me, hyung. If I show up, I’ll ruin her night. She isn’t hiding from the world anymore.”

“You can’t be sure– “

“Yes, I can,” Jungkook closed his eyes, a small exhale moved past his lips, “I can’t ruin this. Please don’t make me ruin this for her.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He felt weak. He couldn’t describe the growing urge he felt to rush over to whatever party you were at, just to see you. But he couldn’t be selfish. Not again.

Last time he acted selfishly he hurt you. He lost you. He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse – after all, you were out of his life, but Jungkook wasn’t willing to be daring, not if it meant it would hurt you again.

“Fine,” an extended beep was heard from the small speaker of the phone. Completely defeated, Jungkook gently threw his phone back onto his bed. Leaning back in his chair he faced the ceiling. He couldn’t seem to get himself to play another game, so shutting everything down, he went to get himself ready for bed.

Diving under the cool, fluffy sheets didn’t seem to be enough for Jungkook to knock out, which was odd. Jungkook could easily fall asleep anywhere on anything. One time he even managed to fall into a deep sleep after downing two 500ml Monster energy drinks. He had planned to pull an all-nighter with some of his online friends for a good few games of Valorant, the best way to do so was to shove an insanely unhealthy amount of energy drinks down the hatch.

He didn’t expect it to be so easy to fall asleep right away – he didn’t even remember walking over to his bed before dropping dead. But this, this was just frustrating.

He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, until when he finally felt his eyelids become heavy, a key was heard jiggling in the lock of the door. It must’ve taken Jungkook longer to fall asleep than he had anticipated if Taehyung had already decided to leave the party; that boy wouldn’t leave a party unless bits of the morning sunlight was peeking through the windows of the house of the host.

The door finally opened. Jungkook squinted his eyes, adjusting to the new light shining through the door frame. A black silhouette walked pasted the door. It wasn’t until Jungkook’s blurry vision had cleared up that he noticed a feminine like figure standing at the door. Not just anybody, no.

You. In fact.

Jungkook felt his heart begin to tie knots. He was dreaming for sure; there was no way you could just appear in his dorm of all dorms. But there you were, in the flesh. You gently clasped the bundle of keys in your palm, preventing them from making any further noise, taking soft strides through the room – you probably thought he was asleep.

You quietly made your way over to Taehyung’s bed, opening the drawer of his nightstand. Jungkook’s eyes monitoring your every move went completely unnoticed by you. The poor boy was in awe, it was like you were an angel that had descended from heaven and blessed him with your presence. Frankly, in Jungkook’s eyes, you were an angel.

You let a small aha slip past your lips, in your hands was a turquoise polaroid camera. You neared the delicate camera to your face, making sure it was the right item through the darkness, and indeed it was.

About to make your way out of the dorm, your head turned slightly; in the direction of the boy that was currently sweating his balls off and his heart pounding like crazy. Fuck, did you see him looking at you? You must’ve, you wouldn’t look at him otherwise. Could you hear his heart beating through his ribcage? That has to be it, after all it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

He hurriedly closed his eyes, praying to the lord above that for once in Jungkook’s cursed life, the spirits would work in his favor. God, if you do this for me, I won’t fart on Taehyung’s head pillow anymore.

You slowly made your way over to Jungkook’s bed, with each step you took he felt a new set of sweat gather in his warm palms. He couldn’t feel anything, all he heard was the shuffle of his blanket. The blanket that was supposed to be on him.

While Jungkook had gone unnoticed to you, the absence of his soft, grey blanket on his body had been completely disregarded. He had tossed so much in his unreachable sleep that he had kicked his blanket right off of him.

Not only did Jungkook feel his body overcome in warmth, but his heart also danced at the thought of you going out of your way to cover him in his blanket. Your kindness really was out of this world.

No matter how many times someone had hurt you, you never failed to leave the ways of resentment and treat people with kindness. You were truly too kind for your own good. That was one of your qualities that Jungkook was most fond of, the world didn’t deserve you. it didn’t deserve an angel.

You on the other hand, were completely oblivious to the fact that the man in front of you was wide awake. You crouched down by the side of his bed, you really should get going, you weren’t supposed to linger for so long.

Your eyes trailed the sleeping beauty on the bed. He looked so peaceful, his long eyelashes resting on the top of his cheek, a few of the hairs grazing the scar on right side of the skin. His dark hair was sprawled over his forehead. His lips were sealed, but slightly pouty, they looked so soft.

You couldn’t make much of his face, the only source of light being the moon light throw the window.

You hand moved on its own. Fingers trailing to the strands of the dark hair, moving the silky locks out of his face.

You wish things had been different between you. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss Jungkook, which is the exact lie you had been telling yourself for weeks. Even though he was right in front of you, you missed him. No, fuck. You couldn’t miss him, even though you wanted things to be different, they never could be.

You snapped out of your daze, removing your hands from his face, you stood up and turned your heel.

“Don’t leave.” You flinched, a small holy shit, was heard from you. Turning back around, you saw Jungkook in the exact same position you had left him in, the only difference was that his eyes were now open. The warm orbs you were completely dazed by were now looking at you.

You had to leave, but you couldn’t, your feet grew minds of their own, obediently staying in place.

Jungkook sat up from his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. He was now seated at the edge of his bed, hands on either side of his thighs, tightly clenching on the sheets beneath him in order to prevent himself from reaching out after you.

There was no exchange of words, you were both lost in each other’s gazes. You were clutching your jacket tightly, looking like a dear caught in head lights. You took a step backwards, gathering every ounce of power you had in your body to try and get out of there. You just couldn’t stay.

“Please,” his voice sounded broken. There it was again – the expression on his face you had never learned to read. His eyelids were droopy, eyebrows relaxed yet slightly furrowed.

He rose from his bed, testing the waters. He examined your reaction before moving any further. When he saw you standing completely still, he took a step forward; you didn’t move, so he took yet another step. That’s when you started to back away, you didn’t look scared or alarmed, so he continued.

This kept going until the back of your thighs met a desk you had failed to notice was there in the first place. You have got to start paying more attention to your surroundings.

Jungkook was now in front of you, eyes looking at yours, searching for any sign of uncertainty. But all he saw was sadness and hurt. His heart clenched in discomfort, because partially – if not all – of the hurt in your eyes was because of him.

He wanted to pour his heart out to you, tell you he was sorry for being an asshole. Tell you he would cut his heart into pieces and hand it to you one by one if that’s what it took to make you happy.

But he wanted to be cautious, he didn’t want to scare you off. So instead, he carefully, carefully, lifted his hand up to your face. The knuckle of his middle finger grazed the side of your cheek. You didn’t flinch.

He extended his fingers to hold your cheek in his palm, his thumb ever so slightly caressing the flush skin. It wasn’t until you leaned into his touch that he felt how warm you were. He could barely make out the light tint of a rosy color on your cheeks. Must’ve been from the booze you’ve ingested at the party, he thought.

Unbeknownst to him, you had barely had enough alcohol to call yourself tipsy.

Deep in your own thoughts, you felt Jungkook’s other hand slip around your waist, the fingers on your cheek descended down to accompany his other hand.

He was hugging you. His face was buried right in the crook of your neck, arms securely wrapped around your frame, fearing for his dear life that you were going to let go of him. His fragile soul couldn’t take it if you did.

You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to hug him back, not until you felt the skin on your shoulder grow wet. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, barely above a whisper – audible to your ear, nonetheless.

He pulled away, his hands resting on your sides lamely. His eyes were glossy, the tip of his nose red, and a few tears had trailed down his cheeks, leaving stains of the salty water. “I’m – It’s my fault, all of it, I know I don’t deserve it but please forgive me.” he sniffled, “I know you hate me, and you have every right to – “

“I don’t hate you,” for the first time that night, you spoke to him. Your voice instantly sedated the distress in Jungkook. You wiped the tears streaming down his face with your cold thumb, which only caused more to fall. “You should… It’s all my fault.”

Although that had been your exact theory for the past weeks, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that the statement was true anymore. You continuously blamed Jungkook for everything that had happened to you, but that wasn’t fair, you realized that now.

Because if Jungkook really was at fault, then so were you. After all, it takes two to tango.

“It’s not,” you tried to soothe the tremendous guilt you could recognize behind his doe eyes, it was the exact same guilt you had felt when you returned from the weekend at the summerhouse. The same guilt that had eaten every bit of your fiber. Blaming yourself for days for having cheated on your now ex-boyfriend who turned out to be the biggest piece of shit to walk the earth.

“You didn’t force me to do anything,” you admitted, “but that fucker – “ Jaehyun, Jungkook hissed.

“Anything that came after the summerhouse wasn’t your fault. Jaehyun showed me who he really was – an asshole in disguise,” at the mention of what you had been through, Jungkook’s grip on your sides tightened slightly. You knew he was blaming himself for what Jaehyun had done.

It wasn’t anyone but Jaehyun’s fault.

You cupped his face in both your hands, smiling softly, “please stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over.” You spoke to him, but also to yourself.

For the longest time you thought it was your fault, that if you hadn’t slept with Jungkook, that you and Jaehyun would still be happy and he would never had touched you like he did.

You and Jaehyun hadn’t been happy for a while, and if he hadn’t snapped you would’ve continued to date A-level garbage.

It took you some time to realize that it was never your fault, and it most certainly wasn’t Jungkook’s fault. Your stomach dropped at the thought of him blaming himself so mercilessly.

He sniffled harder at your words, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorr–“

The kiss was soft. You could tell he completely froze against your lips. Your hands were still on his cheeks; the feel of the occasional tear grazed the skin of your fingers. It didn’t take long for him to melt completely against the plush of your warm lips.

His arms moved back around your waist, pulling you against him until you were flush against his chest. You pulled away. He followed you, refusing that’d be the end of your kiss. His pleading lips captured yours in a second kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss, not having much room to move them any place else when Jungkook was pressing himself so hard against you.

“I missed you,” he breathed between the kiss “so much.” Fuck, if only he knew how much you had missed him, “I couldn’t bare not having you around me.” You hummed against his mouth, hoping he understood that you reciprocated.

You felt his warm tongue scrape against your top lip, pleading to have a taste of yours. You complied easily. Opening your mouth for him to explore the heavenly wonder that was your mouth.

You had kissed Jungkook before, but this felt different, it was softer, much more gentle. The gliding of his tongue against yours felt new, but so right.

You soon came to the agreement that kissing Jungkook was one of your favorite things to do. The slow dance of your lips increased the beating of your heart, you were sure he could feel it knock against his chest.

He lifted your body, as if you were a feather and seated you on the desk behind you, standing right between your legs. His hands resting on either thigh, gently caressing the bare flesh.

Your lips suddenly felt cold, opening your eyes you found Jungkook’s brown orbs staring right at you. Worry began to creep its way up your spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Do… Do you want me to stop?”

He was being careful. Careful not to cross any boundaries. He couldn’t fuck up again, not this time. You smiled at him. Taking his hand in yours, you placed a peck at the top of his palm, “not at all.”

Jungkook swears his heart melted then and there; the softness in your eyes, the relaxed tone of your voice, there was no hesitation. You felt safe, which was everything Jungkook ever wanted.

He leaned back in, you closed your eyes, puckering up thinking he was going in for another kiss. You felt a pair of soft bud-like lips at the side of your jaw, “beautiful,” he whispered to himself. He kissed the top of your covered shoulder.

You leaned back slightly, both hands steady behind you to support you weight. Jungkook leaned forward, following you, refusing that any sort of distance was between you.

Even though you had given him the ok, you could feel Jungkook was slightly hesitant in his moves, which was nothing like the Jungkook you had in front of you almost an entire month ago. He was so confident and cocky, yet now, he seemed unsure.

He was afraid of touching you and screwing up everything.

“I won’t leave this time,” you whispered, moving your head so that you were now looking at him, “I’m not gonna run away.” You took his hand in yours, guiding them towards your tits. Jungkook watched in awe as his hand completely engulfed your breast.

You let go of his hand when you felt him begin to fondle with the perky tit. He moved back to your neck, but instead of small affectionate kisses, he now began to place open-mouthed kisses at the expanse of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, allowing him more space; you felt the corners of his lips curl slightly.

You gasped at the feeling of his tongue gliding over the skin, slapping your hand over your mouth. While one of his hands were busy with your chest, the other removed the hand from your face, “don’t, you sound so pretty.”

The fingers that were once wrapped around your hand moved down your torso, grazing the apex of your thigh. With his mouth still busy on your neck, he hoisted the length of your stripped dress (that was actually Mina’s), just enough to expose most of your legs, but not enough to reveal the fabric of your underwear.

The pad of his cold fingers slithered over the black textile experimentally. Carefully brushing over your clothed clit, you whimpered. You sounded downright touch deprived.

The lustful boy in front of you began sucking on your neck, all while cupping your clothed cunt without warning. “Fuck,” You jumped at the overwhelming touch.

“So sensitive” he mumbled, “aren’t you, angel,” you hummed at the rightfully missed affectionate name. You gripped his shoulders when you felt him massage a little harsher at your mound. Your underwear was beginning to stick to your folds embarrassingly fast.

Jungkook curled a finger around the section of fabric that was directly against your pussy. Providing access for his hand to touch your warmth without removing your underwear. A muffled, high pitched moan of his name rolled off your tongue at his slender finger sliding into your velvety walls.

You were already so wet, and you were sure he noticed how embarrassed you were about it, with the way you were discreetly trying to close your legs.

He used his other hand to keep your legs apart. “Don’t be shy,” he soothed, “I love this pretty” he scraped his finger against the spongy spot, “pretty pussy.”

“Jungkook, please,” you whined, it only caused Jungkook to chuckle whole-heartedly at your neediness, “what is it, baby?” he pressed his thumb against your clit, gently tapping at it. You shuttered.

“I, fuck, I–“ your thighs began to tense, “tell me,” he urged. You were trying your best, but every sentence you were attempted to formulate was instantly thrown out the window the second Jungkook added another finger into your cunt.

His fingers were scraping at your walls, pumping into you or scissoring. The dangerous combination of all of the above, and his thumb rubbing meaningless patterns on your nub had you seeing stars.

Too focused on his magical fingers, you overlooked the small detail of Jungkook now sitting between your thighs, kneeling. He rubbed your thigh soothingly.

Deciding to help you out, Jungkook wrapped his fingers around the lame excuse of your panties, dragging the pathetic fabric down your legs. You were now completely exposed.

Jungkook eyes you between your legs, shamelessly. “Pretty girl,” he wooed. He pulled his fingers out of you, you whined at the empty feeling.

He brought his soaked fingers up to his tongue, slowly licking them clean, all while maintaining eye contact with you. Telling yourself you could cum from the sight alone was in no way an understatement.

“Mmm, good, so fucking good.” He purred against his fingers. “Bet it would taste even better from here,” teasingly, he slid his finger up your soaked slit, punctuating his sentence, “wouldn’t it, angel?” You quivered at his words. “is that what you want?” yes. “your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes – Yes, please. Please eat me out,” without further ado, Jungkook wasted no time placing a much-deserved kiss on your swollen bud. You moaned in relief, throwing your head back at the feeling of Jungkook’s lips circling your clit.

You bucked your hips at the feeling of his tongue sloppily gliding against your folds. Your fingers found themselves tangled in Jungkook’s dark and messy locks. He praised you.

Small grunts and low moans were felt against your warm cunt, “such a pretty pussy,” he mumbled to himself against you. You clenched around nothing at the compliment.

“Feels so good,” you cooed, “yeah?” small licks turned into long laps, “yeah – fuck, don’t stop.” Stopping was the furthest thing from Jungkook’s mind.

You felt knots beginning to tie at the pit of your stomach, Jungkook could easily feel you were about to burst. The constant tugging of his hair and the pulsating cunt was all he needed, to know he was doing his job right.

“I love seeing you so needy for me,” at this point, you’re chanting his name shamelessly. It isn’t until Jungkook adds a finger lamely circling your clit that you feel you’re about to snap. The familiar ache between your legs became almost unbearable, you threw your head back and shut your eyes.

“Eyes on me when you cum,” you obliged. Bending your head forward to watch Jungkook eat your cunt as if he hadn’t eaten in days. The view was the most sinful yet the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. His brows are furrowed, he murmured against your warmth. You occasionally saw the tip of his nose, and when you did it was absolutely soaked in your arousal.

“Oh my fuck– Jungkook.”

It’s only when Jungkook uttered his next sentence that you felt the knot in your stomach unravel. “Fuck, baby, I could eat you out for the rest of my life,” you’re breaking apart.

Your hips surge forward, pathetically grinding on Jungkook’s face — he lets you. Helping you ride out your high, he slowly laps his tongue over your spasming pussy. He’s watching your every move, “delicious,” he smiled innocently as if his mouth wasn’t completely covered in your cum.

He stood up once again, licked his lips clean in the process and you swore you just felt something trail down your thigh. Once he was at eye-level with you, you looked down and saw the tent that has formed in his sweatpants.

Naturally, you go to grab his cock. Not wanting to waste time, you wrapped your fingers around it over the material. He visibly shuttered at the feeling, and it wasn’t until then that you realized you hadn’t touched Jungkook – at all. Not even back at the summer house.

Here you were, complaining over how selfish Jaehyun used to be whenever you two were having sex, saying he never touched you properly or showed any ounce of effort.

You weren’t any different. So far, Jungkook had only been the giver, and you had been a spoiled pillow princess.

Trailing your eyes back up to Jungkook, you watched him carefully as you curled a finger around the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers simultaneously, dragging the unnecessary material down his legs.

His cock sprung up, hitting his stomach. The tip was red and hot, several drops of precum dripped down the angry shaft. He was impossibly hard and you began to feel guilt overcome you for having been so selfish with pleasure. Determined to make it up to him, you placed all five tips of your fingers at the very apex of his cock, sliding down until your palm comes in contact with the tip.

The prettiest whine you’d ever heard rolled off of Jungkook’s lips, he watched you attentively, “y-you don’t have to–“ you shushed him, “I want to.”

You twist your wrist and positioned your fingers around his dick. Using your thumb to spread the precum, you lightly brush his frenulum in which he grunts, “fuck, babyyy,” unintentionally thrusting up into your hand.

You squeezed harder and began to pump his cock. The surprising rotation of your wrist was enough to have him slap both hands on either side of the desk, completely trapping you.

“Faster,” he pleads, “go faster,” and you do. His head drops down to your shoulder. He tried to distract himself by sucking another bruise onto the skin of your neck, but it was completely hopeless with the pace your hand was pumping.

Rhythmically, he was subtly thrusting his hips into your hand, matching the pace. He couldn’t wait to fuck you, so for the time being, he had to fuck your hand. And God, it felt so good it was almost pathetic how much a handjob could rile him up.

You felt his hips stutter, and now it was his turn to chant your name. You placed a soothing kiss on the expanse of his shoulder, “Mmm gonna – haah, shit,” You hurriedly pushed him back gently and dropped to your knees. “What are you – Fuck!”

Most of his length is now shoved down as much as your gag reflex allows, and it isn’t until you have Jungkook’s cock halfway down your throat that you realize how fucking impressive his size is. The thought of having him stretch you out with his girth is enough to make you wet all over again.

Jungkook can’t resist collecting your strands of hair up into a ponytail and piston into your mouth, “s-sorry, I’m sorry,” strings of apologies are heard throughout the room, along with the sound of you choking. Your eyes begin to sting, fresh tears falling down the side of your cheek. He continues to fuck your throat, and contrary to his belief, you fucking love it.

You steady yourself by grabbing the sides of his thighs. Echoes of Jungkook’s moans and heavy sighs fill the room, alongside the sound of his cock continuously thrusting down your throat.

“so pretty, you’re s-so fucking pretty like this,” you hum at his praise, “like the feeling of my cock down your throat, huh? Dirty girl, fuck,” at this point your mascara had completely stained your cheeks.

The sight of your brows furrowed, eyes filled with tears, mascara-stained cheeks, and the absolute cherry on top: Jungkook repeatedly plunging his impossibly hard cock down your sore throat, was all it took for him to blow his load.

You’ve never heard such a moan come from Jungkook, it sounded broken and you’re certain it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever hear in your life. You felt the warm, white liquid coat the walls of your cheeks and throat and you made sure to swallow every single drop.

You’re stopped from licking his dick clean when Jungkook pulls you back up to meet him at eye level. He lifts you up to sit at the desk again, hands on either side of you, he looks you dead in the eye, “I want to fuck you,” he says bluntly.

Your eyes widen slightly at his directness. Confused, you look down at his dick and holy fuck – he was still incredibly hard. Seriously, this boy had some serious stamina. You assumed his extraordinary stamina must’ve developed all those years in the gym.

You felt tiny under his gaze, you meet his eyes, nonetheless.

“Come here and fuck me then.” You felt bold when a shaky breath left his mouth. He hoisted both your legs up to his waist, causing you to lean back slightly, both your hands were forced to sit behind you once again to prevent yourself from falling backwards.

Without another word, Jungkook sealed the distance between your lips with a sweet kiss.

“Ohmygod–” was all you were able to say when his cock slowly disappeared inside of you, your walls of warmth hugging his length. Once again, you had underestimated just how big Jungkook actually was. He snaked a hand to meet the small of your back to steady himself before he finally began to pull himself out, leaving his tip, only to push back in.

You whined at the delicious stretch. Setting a fixed pace, Jungkook repeatedly thrusted into you, while his lips were busy on yours. You wrapped both arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hairs of his nape. “Mmm fuck,” he moaned deliciously against your lips.

“Feels good?” he asked, parting your lips with a soft chu. You nodded; your eyelids lazily drooped over your orbs; eyebrows scrunched together at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix. He felt so good.

“Say it,” he rasped, “tell me how good it feels,” his thrusts grew harder, “tell me how good I’m fucking this pretty pussy. My pussy,” his pussy, yes, it was his.

You cried at the claim. “It feels so good Guk – fuck I love when you fuck me like this.”

He pounded harder, as if he was trying to punctuate something. Both your breaths quickened, equally as eager to chase your own high as you were each other’s. Pushing his chests flush against yours, he leaned his forehead against yours, neither of you broke eye contact.

“L-love you,” he cried. “I love you.”

It felt as if all the air in your lungs was punched out of you, you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was Jungkook’s hips thrusting into yours unforgivingly, or if it was the fact that the boy you basically watched grow up happened to be the same person you’ve liked since middle-school, standing in front of you, telling you he loves you.

You lied to yourself, you genuinely thought whatever strong feeling you felt for Jungkook had died down, that you had truly moved on. You even got a boyfriend and all that.

But it wasn’t until you heard Jungkook utter those three words that you realized they never went away, no – you had hidden those feelings away in a box and chained several chains around it to keep them suppressed.

You loved him too, of course you did. You never stopped loving him for fucks sake. It pains you to think about how much crap both of you were put through for you to realize this.

“I love you.”

12-year-old Y/N was applauding and smiling like crazy; you finally said it. The love you had carried for Jungkook in your poor overwhelmed heart was finally spilled all over the table.

Jungkook’s hips stuttered at your reciprocating words. He hadn’t expected you to say it back, but for the love of all that is holy; he loved hearing you say it, it sounded so pretty coming from you. “Say it again,” he was now smiling, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

His eyes were glowing, so of course you had to say it again, “I love you. Fuck – I always have.”

“Again.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” completely out of breath, you caressed the side of his cheek, watching as his eyes teared up once again. He only fastened his pace, if that was even humanly possible. Lovingly, you ran your thumb across the scar that laid right on his cheek, “I am in love with you.”

That being said – Jungkook exploded, with you following right after him. You were holding on to each other for dear life, with slow pumps to help ride out your highs. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, at your final clench.

Small strings of I love you’s were heard from Jungkook who was breathlessly panting into your neck. He kissed your temple, guiding a small string of hair behind your ear.

“You know,” he started, “I’ve been in love with you since freshman year of high school,” he smiled adoringly at you, “the first day we had a biology class, I saw you slip a note into my locker that read ‘if I could be a nitrogen base, I’d be adenine so I could be paired with U.’ and there was a small purple bellflower taped to the corner of the paper. You’ve had my heart ever since that day.”

Your eyes widened, physically cringing at yourself in your teenage years, “I can’t believe you knew it was me, and really? That’s what it took for you to like me back?” You giggled, “you can’t blame me, you were, and still are, extremely adorable.” He shrugged his shoulders. You gently pushed his shoulders, feeling your face turn red at the reminder of your rather sappy biology pick up line.

“Well, I’ve loved you since middle school. I win this one, Jeon.”

Saturday 02:57AM

“What’s taking so long, Y/N should be back by now,” Jin winced, eyeing the small watch on his wrist.

Taehyung and Mina looked at each other, “do you think it worked?” Mina questioned, a beaming smile plastered across her face, “yup,” Taehyung crossed his arms proudly. “Operation tell-Y/N-to-get-polaroid-camera-because-Taehyung’s-too-drunk-for-his-own-good-so-that-she-could-be-trapped-in-the-same-room-as-Jungkook-and-make-up… Was a success!”

taglist: @selinashere @jjenjen @ladyartemesia @emsuzz @iamjiminsfloor @silvlyjmhwa

#jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk smut #fluff #angst #he won't know #fanfic

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lifeofkaze · 3 years ago

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When Stars Ignite - Chapter 14

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Katriona Cassopeia (in mention) belongs to the gorgeous @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning:

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea @thatravenpuffwitch

Man, we were killin' time We were young and restless We needed to unwind I guess nothin' can last forever Forever, no… ~ Bryan Adams - Summer of ‘69 ~

Much to his relief, Orion’s fear of having been discovered seemed to prove unwarranted. Skye was a direct person, never shy to speak her mind; if she had truly seen something not meant for her eyes during the interview, Orion was sure she’d have already come and spoken to either of them.

But nothing of the sort had happened. She had acted just like she always did and his first surge of worry had died down again. Sometimes even the most focused mind was prone to being tricked and, as he had to admit to himself, focus was something he found himself lacking in these days.

It wasn’t only because of Lizzie’s teasing getting riskier that he found his mind wandering more often than not. Ever since the show they were meant to be playing for the children from the foster system had shown its face on the horizon, an ever present restlessness had been growing in Orion.

Dreams that he had pushed to the edges of his mind a long time ago had started haunting him again; they kept coming back whenever they held an event stirring the buried memories of his childhood. He loved seeing the light in the children’s faces when they were spending time with them; he knew it was a rare sight, after all. The emotional mess Orion carried back with him afterwards was the dark side of the coin, however.

The charity event was scheduled for the next day; they were to play a small acoustic set for the children in the afternoon and their regular show only a few hours later on top. To keep their spirits high before the double load, Ethan had scheduled a day off for them.

The weather was still uncharacteristically hot and so most of the band and crew had found themselves at the small pool on the rooftop of their hotel. Much to everyone’s surprise, even Artemis had joined them.

Charlie had followed Skye’s advice to take Artemis for drinks a few days prior. He had been unusually tight-lipped about it when they had asked him how it had gone down.

“It was good,” he had shrugged, “told you she’s not as bad as you all think.”

While the young pyro tech still kept her distance from the rest of them, Orion had seen her chatting with Charlie outside of their work on stage since then. He was glad she seemed to be taking a step into the right direction, lowering her armour even for the tiniest bit.

But Artemis’ tentative attempts at integrating herself with their group lounging by the pool were counteracted as soon as she took her shirt off. Everett audibly wolf-whistled at her black bikini with surprisingly colourful patterns crisscrossing it. Her withering glare was met with a lewd grin as Artemis picked up her stuff and dumped it on the deckchair farthest away from them.

Lizzie gave Everett a smack on the back of his head. “Well done, Ev, you’ve scared her away. I wanted to have a chat with her.”

Everett looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m not stopping you. Two beauties in bikinis getting close? Who would I be to object? You could rub her back with sunscreen.”

He laughed to himself. “If Artemis isn’t up for it, I’m always here for you, gorgeous.”

A hint of the same irritation Orion felt flickered over Lizzie’s face. “You’re a real mood today.”

She got up from her own deckchair and started over in Artemis’ direction anyway, but was stopped by Charlie catching onto her wrist.

“Woah, where are you going, little rockstar?”

“Go and talk to Artemis, see if I can convince her to come over if Ev shuts up.” She gave the singer lounging in his chair a dark look.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Charlie said and pulled her down next to him. “Trust me, if you push her you’ll be the one scaring her away. She’ll come over if she wants to.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to object but Charlie shook his head. “You can’t force her, sunshine.”

“Fine,” Lizzie snorted, not pleased by the situation, “so what’re we gonna do now?” She nodded in the direction of the pool. “Anyone up for a round of water polo?”

Everett declined, preferring to seek a better place to tan, while Merula did the opposite and withdrew to the shade with a book. So it was Charlie, Lizzie, Andre and Skye who made their way to the water. Orion would have joined them, but he was preoccupied with some ideas that had been floating around in his head since that morning; he wanted to write them down before he’d forget them.

He was lying on his stomach on his deckchair, notebook open in front of him, but found it hard to concentrate. The match of water polo going on in the pool had turned into some kind of wrestling match, like it always did eventually. Lizzie and Skye were sitting on Charlie’s and Andre’s shoulders respectively, trying to knock the other into the water; a lot of giggling and shouting was involved as they fought for the upper hand.

What really distracted him though, was the way the sunlight was refracting in the water droplets on Lizzie’s skin when she moved. It let her slender body shimmer, her tan she always got so quickly in the summer months a beautiful contrast to the vibrant red of her bikini. Her wet hair looked a lot darker than it actually was and it was clinging to her back.

Skye almost managed to knock her off Charlie’s shoulder and Lizzie laughed as she righted herself again. It was the kind of laugh that made her stand out amongst all the others, bright and captivating. It gave her an aura that was impossible to escape, drawing eyes whenever she entered a scene. She had the ability to light up a whole room with her smile, as fresh and beautiful as a sunrise.

“I’d say I’m 95.9 % sure what you’re staring at, my friend,” Orion suddenly heard the voice of Murphy next to him, “or should I rather say who?”

Orion tried not to let his surprise show; he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard his best friend approach. “Your meaning is obscure to me,” he answered evasively. “I’m simply trying to work here.”

Murphy couldn’t hide his smirk. “When you’re working, your attention is usually 87.5 % focused on your work, more if no one is distracting you. Four out of five times you don’t even react when spoken to.” He glanced down at the mostly blank page of Orion’s notebook. “Today I’d say your focus is reduced to abysmal 30.9 %.” Never missing a detail, his eyes flicked to the still on-going wrestling match in the pool.

With a sigh, Orion closed his notebook and rested his head on his arms. Murphy was far too observant to be lied to, but he didn’t have to know all the details either.

He indicated their laughing friends with a slight nod of his head. “It is good that our friends are having a great time, it strengthens their bond of friendship. But they are making a lot of noise, it’s bound to draw attention.”

The dismissive sound Murphy was making clearly showed that he wasn’t buying it. “It’s obvious they’re distracting you. But from what I’ve seen, 95.5 % of the time you’ve spent looking at them were devoted to one of the pairs, and while I do have to admit that Andre’s new gold bangles are surprisingly flashy and apparently water resistant, I highly doubt it was him that drew your attention, same goes for Skye, although her hair usually is an eye catcher, I’ll give you that. That leaves Charlie and dear Lizzie, and last time I checked, you weren’t one for redheads, that’s more my thing. Not that I want to say I find Charlie particularly attractive, although some might say so, but I digress. So only one option remains, and as the one and only master of logical deductions, the great Sherlock Holmes, once said, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable…”

“...must be the truth’,” Orion finished with a sigh. “I know the quote. You're quoting numbers all day every day, do you really feel the need to go into literature as well now?"

Ignoring him, Murphy was grinning from ear to ear, clearly satisfied with his conclusions. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Orion wasn’t answering immediately; he didn’t like Murphy’s prying at all. “Are you done, Detective McNully?”

“Fine, don’t answer me then, I don’t need confirmation,” Murphy snorted. “The stats never lie, my friend.”

Orion rolled his eyes, hoping Murphy wouldn’t delve into another one of his statistical sprees. Although he was right in that his numbers were seldom wrong, Orion himself preferred a more open-minded view of his surroundings to Murphy’s cold, analytical observations; especially, if these observations were directed at his own behaviour.

But of course, Murphy wasn’t deterred. “To the attentive observer, which of course you know that I am, all the facts are there. Eight out of ten times your mood changes for the better when Lizzie enters the room. Seven out of ten times she starts smiling when she looks at you. You two look at each other during shows and soundtracks 46.4 % more often than at the others and yes, I factored out the times when you need to because of the cues she’s giving you, thanks a lot for asking. You hug each other at the end of the shows significantly longer as well. When you leave the backstage area, you’re never leaving together but almost always in close succession.”

The blond sound technician crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Are you really sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?”

Orion was more than a little shocked at all the facts Murphy had just thrown at him. “I had no idea it was that obvious.”

Murphy shrugged, a sly smile appearing on his face. “Only to me. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and my above average observational skills, which of course not everyone possesses, solved 82.3 % of the mystery.”

“What’s with the rest?”

“What I can offer in facts, I sometimes lack in interpreting. Katriona connected the dots.”

“Obviously,” Orion sighed.

“So, what’s the deal with you two? Are you dating?” A frown appeared on Murphy’s face. “I thought you had a clause about this in your contracts. Ethan’s not going to like this.”

Orion vehemently shook his head. “No, you got that wrong. We’re not dating, everything is just like it has always been. We’re just enjoying additional pastimes, which - I’ll give you that - may exceed a regular friendship.”

He looked at Murphy intently. “No one besides you knows about this, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

Murphy made a non-committal sound. “Of course this doesn’t include Katriona.”

“As if any of us could keep a secret from her.”

“I normally don’t go for absolutes but that’s 100 % true,” Murphy laughed. He looked at Orion curiously. “So how long has this thing between you and Lizzie been going on now?”

“A while,” Orion answered evasively.

“The definition of ‘a while’ ranges from two weeks to up to a year. Judging by my numbers, it’s definitely not the former. Doesn’t sound like a short lived fling to me.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fling,” Orion said; it was surprisingly hard to put what was going on between them into words. “But we’re definitely not emotionally involved with each other. It’s not a matter of the heart, more of a physical extension built on the base of our friendship.”

Murphy leaned back into his wheelchair and grinned. “The old classic, friends with benefits.”

“If that’s the label you want to stick on it.”

Murphy hummed in response, following Orion’s gaze to the pool again. His voice was quieter when he spoke this time. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We are both on the same page about it.”

“Just saying, things like these seldomly work out as well as they start. Approximately 89.6 % of physical relationships end in chaos, tears or both.”

The memory of his own initial worry emerged in the back of Orion’s mind. He watched as Skye gave Lizzie a final push that sent her toppling from Charlie’s shoulders. She shrieked before she crashed into the water, but was already laughing again when she resurfaced; Orion firmly pushed his concerns away.

“It won’t escalate with us,” he said. “Both of us value our friendship, and the fate of Equinox even more so. We’ve established very clear rules. I appreciate your worries, but they are misplaced.”

“As much as I love rules for the structure they’re bringing, rules can easily be broken,” Murphy said. “Just be careful, okay? Mixing friendship with sex can be a lot of fun but the devil’s in the detail.”

They both watched Lizzie climbing out of the pool and heading over into their direction. When she passed Everett, he pulled down his sunglasses and watched after her, his eyes very slowly travelling up and down her body. He said something to her Orion couldn’t hear, but Lizzie only rolled her eyes, shot something back and continued on her way. Murphy's eyes flicked from her to Orion.

“Aren’t you bothered with Ev hitting on her?”

Orion shrugged. “Why would I? She’s not my girlfriend, and she can perfectly handle herself, as you’ve just seen.”

“That she undoubtedly can,” Murphy laughed, “I’ll better be off now and leave you two alone. I wonder where my beautiful wife is. I haven’t seen her in quite a while now.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #orion amari #murphy mcnully #lizzie jameson #lizion #rockstar au #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate

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7team7 · 4 years ago

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Choosing Fate: Chapter 8

A surprise leaves Sasuke and Sakura alone for a while. // Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

A/N: thank you everyone for your encouragement and kind words on this fic. I’m trying to dedicate myself to it and finish it before moving on to new stories, but sometimes that’s still a slower process than I expect? And the plot seems to want to complicate itself more, but I promise more ss moments are coming!! Hope this chapter is ok, the slow burn is still burning

Tsunade was relentless in her tutelage. Sakura’s tutoring sessions with Sasuke were idyllic in comparison. The older woman pushed and pushed and pushed.

But the discipline and hard work only served to strengthen her. Tsunade raised a brow when the petite woman cracked her knuckles before getting to work everyday. She knew she had found a determined student, but her dedication was truly something remarkable.

And it yielded results.

Once complicated combinations became embedded in her memory and her hands were able to move without thinking. Tsuande stopped lecturing and started questioning, pushing the envelope: What if we did this? What do you think of that? How would you approach it?

What started as a favor she agreed to do on a whim became a cherished relationship. Maybe Konoha wasn’t so bad.

Sakura greatly respected her teacher, but she barely knew the first thing about her. She used to keep her chatter to a minimum while they worked, but she had grown much more comfortable in the Senju’s house. “Tsunade-sama, you were never married, right?” For once, a woman’s professional work had superseded her romantic history.

Tsunade paused in the middle of tidying up some papers she pulled out for reference. The question wasn’t necessarily unwelcome, but it took her by surprise. No one had asked her about that in a long time. “No. There was someone I would’ve married, but we never got the chance.”

“Did he have to marry someone else?” Arranged marriage was awkward at best, but it would’ve been downright heartbreaking if she was already in love with someone else.

“He was hurt in battle. And I couldn’t save him.” She sighed heavily, “After him, there was no one else. Why do you think I leave the village so often?” The ghosts of her past would never stop haunting her. Her ties to Konoha weighed heavily.

“Oh,” she bit her lip, “I’m so sorry.” She assumed Tsunade was just a wild spirit, but the reality was much more tragic.

She shrugged. Time to change the subject. “And you? Was there someone else before that sulky brat?”

Sakura opened her mouth to protest, he was not a sulky brat! But then she remembered the way he would hang around outside Tsunade’s house if she wasn’t home before the sun set. “No, I was too young and too busy with my household chores to find someone else. But Sasuke’s not so bad…” She blushed a little; before, she could hardly fathom getting married to Sasuke but now, she couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else. She couldn’t fault him for their circumstances, even if he was a little rough around the edges.

“And your parents?”

“Ah, they were actually childhood sweethearts. Lucky them,” she said weakly.

“Well, I guess Sasuke’s good enough for you to stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could always leave. Plenty of women do it.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback, “I had never considered that. Where would I even go?” She didn’t think she had a choice in the matter, or any other real options.

Tsunade raised a brow, “You could go home. Have you been home yet?”

Sakura laughed bitterly and confessed, “Actually, no. It’s not that I don’t want to, I guess I...just haven’t gathered the courage.” Was it her home there anymore? Was she a wife before she was a sister? She started fiddling with a stray herb that had escaped a jar.

She continued, “I miss my siblings dearly, but it’s easier to just stay away. If I visited home and saw everything I’ve been missing...it would be too hard to come back here. I don’t know if that makes me a good wife or a terrible sister.” She had assumed she was leaving for good after the wedding. Life as Uchiha Sakura might still be new and full of surprises, but it wasn’t completely miserable. Should she expect more? The leaf in her hands was completely pulverized after she worked her anxieties out on it.

Her mentor nodded in understanding. “You won’t figure it out in a day. And when you feel like you’ve got it, something will change and you’ll be back at square one. That’s life.”

Sakura nodded glumly. She supposed being young almost always meant standing at a crossroads. They got back to work.

Training and learning took up the majority of her time lately. She was exhausted, but not unhappy. Most days she stayed at Tsunade’s for long hours, only returning to frantically complete some chores. Today, Sakura slapped her palm to her forehead when she remembered that she had promised to help Mikoto fold dumplings. She all but flew out the door, shouting, “See you tomorrow!” before heading home. She rushed into the kitchen and greeted her mother-in-law. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help with lunch-” she started, but Mikoto held up a hand to stop her.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’ve found something to keep you occupied. Tsunade is a formidable woman, history or not. There’s no reason for a young girl to be cooped up forever.” Her daughter in law always put on a brave face, but she could tell there was something missing.

Sakura breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you for understanding. Still, I’ll try to be home a bit more.” She didn’t remember when she started calling this house her home, but she did have a certain obligation to maintain it. She would be so upset if Mikoto suddenly started abandoning her duties! Who would pick them up? Certainly not Fugaku.

Mikoto shook her head, smiling, “I’ve become content with being at home with my husband and children. But until that day comes for you, just lean on me. Go rest, I’ve got it.” Even as she spoke, she kept deftly folding dumpling skins like it was second nature.

“A-are you sure?” She had realized she was treated like a strange, permanent guest in the Uchiha household. In her childhood home, she was anything but a guest. “I’m sure. Sasuke’s home, by the way.” Sakura nodded and ventured off to find him, starting with the bedroom. It felt like ages since she’d last seen him.

“Where have you been?”

“Excuse me?” His tone was accusatory, but hers was incredulous. “I thought you supported me going? Don’t tell me you changed your mind.” His hot and cold personality was jarring.

“Didn’t think you’d be gone so often,” he grumbled. Those precious tutoring sessions together had been cut short by her lessons with Tsunade, but there was nothing he could do besides walk her there and back. He had half a mind to offer her another trip to the market just to get her to do something with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to impede on her schedule for such selfish reasons. So he sulked, even if he didn’t quite understand why he was so upset.

He had just finished getting dressed, perhaps taking a bit of extra time smoothing down his hair and clothes in an attempt to get her to look at him. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where? What makes you think I want to follow you anywhere?” If he felt like being a jerk, she would stay home and fold dumplings, thank you very much!

He sighed, like the answer was obvious. “We’re going to Itachi’s. Apparently Izumi’s been feeling off lately. They requested your presence.”

She perked up slightly but then remembered she was supposed to be mad. As maddening as her husband was, their fights were usually small and quickly diffused. “Fine, I’ll go. But are you sure it’s alright for me to leave the house instead of waiting on you hand and foot?”

“Annoying,” he muttered, leaving the room but not before he made sure his wife was following him.

Knock, knock, knock. Tsunade pursed her lips, who would be calling on her at this time of night? Everyone should be sitting down for dinner. She set down her cup of tea to answer the door.

To her pleasant surprise, Sakura stood at her doorstep looking breathless and bright-eyed. “I thought I sent you home hours ago?” Tsunade raised a brow at the girl.

“You did. But I have news! And because of that news I can’t stop for today. There’s more to do.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and if she didn’t slow down, she might just swallow her own tongue.

“More? But-”

“Izumi is pregnant!” Sakura blurted. A grin overtook her features, “Isn’t that exciting?” She pushed her way into Tsunade’s house for the second time that day. They had work to do! Sakura had so much to learn! Babies were so complicated.

The older woman sighed. Uchiha or not, it would be useful for Sakura to learn about midwifery and the like. Really, she couldn’t say no to her favorite student. She closed the door and rolled up her sleeves again.

“She started out weak, you said?” Tsunade was mulling over which round of roots and herbs to send with Sakura first. Izumi’s pregnancy was still new, but was already proving difficult and draining. Even a placebo would help reduce the expecting mother’s nerves.

“Mm, I had a suspicion that she has some kind of illness, and the pregnancy is just making things more difficult for her. I think she can carry to term, but she’ll need lots of rest. I want to do whatever I can to make this easier on her.”

Smart girl, she praised internally. She finally picked out the jars she was looking for, “Here. Crush that bottom one up and mix it with her tea, the other is an ointment to rub on her ankles when they swell. She should be resting in bed, but there might still be pain. And tell everyone to stop hovering, they’re so pesky.”

Sakura practically saluted her teacher, “You’ve got it, Tsunade-sama! I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know you will,” she laughed affectionately. Her little apprentice was really something.

Between caring for Izumi and learning from Tsunade, Sakura barely had a moment to rest. While Sasuke initially made a few more snippy comments about not being home, he couldn’t help but feel the pride welling up inside of him. Other women had started seeking her advice and she earned a reputation as Tsunade’s apprentice who would one day surpass her. He felt smug thinking about how good of a mother Sakura would become, but then he reprimanded himself. He really needed to stop thinking like that.

When a contraction ripped through Izumi’s body, she immediately gasped, “Get Sakura.”

Sasuke all but sprinted to Tsunade’s house, but somehow, by the time they got back, half the clan had gotten wind of the labor. They had to shoulder their way into the house just to get a glimpse of the expecting mother.

“I thought you said you brought the best,” some grumpy old auntie eyed Sakura skeptically.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at her, “Sakura is the best. Now everybody out, let her work.” No one dared question the authoritative tone in his voice. Sakura brushed past him after squeezing his arm in thanks.

Sakura thought she could be calm, but all sorts of emotions bubbled up inside of her when she knelt next to Izumi’s tense body. Her face twisted in pain and shone with sweat when she panted desperately, “I can’t lose this baby.” The implication was clear: or else she would prove useless as the one to produce the next heir.

And it broke Sakura’s heart. As a mother, she would naturally be worried about her child, but this was unacceptable.

“Everything is going to be fine,” she reassured her, even as her voice shook and she could barely believe her own words. “Now if someone could please get me some water.” Itachi practically tripped over his own feet fetching the water. She had never seen the man so on edge.

Sakura couldn’t help but let out her own sob when the baby’s first cry pierced the air and Izumi slumped back in relief.

After a tense eight months, Itachi and Izumi’s son is born, small but healthy. The clan breathed a collective sigh of relief. It was finally time to celebrate.

Once a few weeks passed, it is agreed that the new little family should visit Izumi’s parents for a while. After only exchanging letters for the past three years, it is only right that they got to see their new grandchild for a while. They were only distantly related to the Uchiha and had established residence in a different village. The journey would take a number of days and Mikoto and Fugaku insisted on going along.

Which meant the main house was left to only Sasuke and Sakura for at least a month.

A/N: HAHA THERE’S ONLY ONE HOUSE!! AND THEY ALREADY SHARE A BED!! Pervsuke incoming also hopefully it goes without saying that Time is Passing so ss are getting a teensy bit older. I kind of liked how this chapter flipped it so that sakura is the one always gone but even if he’s grumpy at first he’s like damn..she rlly did that LOL you like her don’t u ssk /.\

#sasusaku #fan fic #my writing #arranged marriage AU #um um tags? do not remember anything else

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iamnemuru · 5 years ago

Text

Stranger Danger - Loki Laufeyson

summary:

by a miracle, loki survives thanos' attempt to murder him and you find him trying to break in your house

pairing: loki laufeyson x reader

words: 1.86k

note: this took way too long, i’m sorry! i’ve been busy with a lot of stuff.

...

The lack of noise in the once busy streets was almost deafening.

You knew this was going to be the norm for the next couple of years until all of humanity, or at least your neighbourhood, got back on its feet. It was very depressing to admit, but you doubted everything would be the same again. Not with half of the population reduced to nothing but dust.

Despite the grave thoughts that kept visiting your mind constantly for the past few days, you’ve tried to live your life as normally as you can; knowing that mucking around in the confines of your room would do you no good.

So here you were, walking home from the supermarket in a street that’s far too quiet than usual.

You turned a corner towards your street, hoping to spot a neighbour out of their home today. The amount of interaction you’ve had with your neighbours ever since everyone disappeared was starting to become worrisome. In fact, the number of times you’ve seen any of them in the past few days was a whopping zero.

You were starting to believe that you’re the only one who’s survived in your area.

You were busy pondering the whereabouts of everyone you were acquainted with when you heard a faint noise; which sounded awfully a lot like someone’s voice. You directed your attention towards it and quickly spotted a tall figure a few ways ahead.

You halted in your tracks and squinted your eyes to get a better view. Pale skin, long dark hair and wait – is that a costume?

As far as you knew, not a single cosplayer lived in the vicinity. Though to be fair, you didn’t trust any of the information stored in your brain anymore. Not with beings like superheroes and an army of aliens popping out of the blue every now and then.

As you got nearer, the more it dawned on you that this man definitely did not live in your neighbourhood. Not only because his face was unfamiliar, but it was also because he looked very out of place in his leathery dark green suit and flowy cape.

“– just open!” Was all you managed to catch from the strange man’s session of frustrated shouts.

“Oh no,” You muttered to yourself when you realized he wasn’t standing on just about anyone’s front porch. He was on your front porch – trying to open your front door.

You let out a small groan and picked up your pace, fully knowing you couldn’t ignore him even if you wanted to. It was either that or letting a trespasser enter your private property.

You took it as your cue to speak when you were well within his earshot. “Uh, sir? Excuse me, what –”

You came into another abrupt halt when you felt the rest of your words lodge themselves in the back of your throat. Your eyes traced the side of his head with your mouth slightly hung agape.

His hair was caked in dried and somewhat fresh blood, which had dripped down to stain the skin on his face. You would’ve been impressed if it was Halloween – but it wasn’t, and the blood looked very, very real.

In hindsight, you probably had bigger matters to worry about than being robbed. A great example would be getting murdered, but it’s a little bit too late for that now you realized.

You contemplated running away as fast as you could when he didn’t budge from his place. One of his hands was resting on the doorknob and his gaze remained glued to the door. Your breath got caught in your throat when he glanced your way slowly, peering at you from the corner of his eyes.

A moment of silence passed. The blank stare you directed towards each other would’ve been comical if he didn’t look like he had just risen from a grave.

“Er –” You began to say, pausing when he turned to face you fully.

He crossed his arms in front of him, head slightly tilted to the side. “What business do you have with me, Midgardian?”

Mid – what?

You chose to ignore it, deciding it was probably part of whatever character he was trying to portray – if he really was doing a cosplay. They hadn’t added new members of the Avengers, had they? Man, it was probably high time you updated yourself in these things.

Your somewhat perplexed expression morphed into an anxious one. “You’re… On my property.”

The man seemed to perk up a little upon hearing your words. “Ah – splendid,” He commented, a ghost of a smile appearing briefly on his lips. “I would be eternally grateful if you could open the door for me.”

You blinked at him, looking utterly bewildered. “Am I supposed to know you?” You inquired, unsure if you were being dragged into an elaborate prank or was genuinely being asked to open the door for a stranger.

He looked taken aback, either by your cluelessness or courage to ask questions, you didn’t know which one. “I’m Loki, prince of Asgard.” He rose one hopeful brow. “God of Mischief?” He was staring at you as though you should have recognized him by now; though it became rather apparent after a while that you still had no inkling who he was.

Loki, if he wasn’t lying about his name, inhaled deeply, an expression of mixed exasperation and disappointment evident on his features. “I’m Thor’s brother.”

You arched an eyebrow at how pained he sounded to admit that. “Thor from the Avengers has a brother?”

“I’m adopted.”

“Oh,” You remarked awkwardly and shifted your gaze elsewhere, thinking of how to say your next set of words carefully. “Adopted or not… Shouldn’t you have powers? Why couldn’t you just uh, magic yourself inside?”

Loki looked at you indignantly. He opened his mouth to retort back but no words came out. You were no genius when it came to guessing but you were pretty sure he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t capable of doing so.

He heaved a deep sigh, sensing that he wouldn’t be able to convince you any time soon. Loki brought up a hand towards you, a dagger clutched in his palm. “I didn’t want to have to resort to this.”

You quickly stumbled backwards with widened eyes, finally convinced that he was neither cosplaying nor pranking you. Loki observed the frightened look plastered on your features and for a split second, he felt a sudden surge of reluctance go through him.

He glanced back and forth between you and his hand before letting out a groan of annoyance, bringing his weapon down. A couple of years ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to take all life on Earth but now, he couldn’t even kill one mere mortal. How touching.

“Listen,” Loki pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, another sigh slipping through his lips. “I’m horribly injured and my ability to self-heal isn’t working as well as it should, or any of my abilities for the matter. I simply need a place to stay for the meantime.”

You stared at him for a second, the hammering in your chest still present. “How can I be sure that you won’t hurt me?”

Loki returned your gaze. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

Wow, truly convincing words.

You suspiciously eyed the hand that was holding the blade. “You won’t try to murder me, will you?”

He followed your line of sight. “Oh. No. I - I wouldn’t, I don’t think my brother would be thrilled if I did.” A flash of green light engulfed his hand, taking the dagger with it as it went away.

Oh, so he really is a god.

You stood there for a moment, weighing your options. It did seem like he was telling the truth – green light tricks and everything.

You sighed.

Loki stepped aside as you walked towards the door, a paper bag clutched on one arm and the other busy fishing keys out of your pockets. You pushed the door open and walked inside, Loki tailing closely after you.

A small thump echoed within the space of your living room as you dropped the bag on the coffee table. Without waiting for your permission, Loki plopped himself down on the soft cushions of your sofa, looking weary as can be.

You turned to face him after the last bit of uneasiness has fled your body. It was rather rare that a Norse god would pull out a dagger and threaten to stab you.

“Since I’m staying here,” Loki brought his tired gaze towards you, all emotion absent from his face. “Would you like to know how I arrived on Earth?”

Stunned that he was willing to share it with you, all you did was give a tiny nod.

Loki was brief in his storytelling, obviously having no energy to share every little detail. He had apparently been floating in space, pacing in and out of consciousness after Thanos’ attack. Until he woke up fully, finding himself lying face down in the middle of nowhere; just a kilometre away from where you lived.

Silence soon followed after Loki finished speaking. Loki’s expression was downcast like he had lost everything that was important to him – which wasn’t that far from the truth.

You cleared your throat obnoxiously in a desperate attempt to snap him out of his depressive state. “You probably want to take a shower, right?”

You flashed him a weak smile and gestured for him to follow you. As you opened the bathroom door, you remembered something important.

You held out your hand towards him. “I’m (Y/n), just a human.”

The next hour went by in a flash, you managed to force Loki into your oversized clothes and you got all of his wounds bandaged and cleaned up. Though he had been trying to tell you that the bandages were unnecessary and the cuts would heal themselves in no time. God or not, you didn’t want him to have an infection.

Now, the two of you were in your kitchen. Him, perched casually on one of the chairs around the dining table and you, cooking food.

After seeing the mournful look on Loki’s face earlier; you had officially made it your duty to take care of him until he got back into shape. It was almost pitiful how quickly you had gotten attached. Even the memory of you trying to shoo him off your property seemed a bit strange and distant now.

But you had to remind yourself not to get used to his presence, knowing he wasn’t going to stay for long.

And speaking of which –

“Hey, Loki. How long do you think you’ll be staying?” You asked, twisting the cap off the salt shaker.

No response.

You twisted around, confused as to why Loki had suddenly gone quiet only to find him taking a nap on his seat. He was using his arms as a cushion for his head, his still slightly damp hair sprawled all over the kitchen table. His eyebrows were drawn upwards in a peaceful expression.

You smiled at him fondly, feeling your troubled thoughts disperse for the first time in a couple of days. You turned back to the stove after deciding to not disturb his much deserved and needed rest.

You could always ask him when he wakes up.

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Three

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Two

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): EXPLICIT language & sexual situations. Subtle hinting at miscarriage and cheating.

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

———————————————————————

I pull the heavily crimson soaked pad from my panties before wrapping it in toilet paper and throwing it away in the bathroom.

I've been bleeding and cramping nearly two weeks straight.

The Gynecologist office said my body should've been done cleaning itself out by the next week.

Once again a thing that was growing in me was reduced to a simple ultrasound picture and pregnancy test locked in a drawer that I knew no one would bother to go through.

I had to call Fred to tell him the test I took was a false positive, then I gave myself an hour to get it together, dried my eyes, and moved on.

Well, at least I thought I did.

I wash my hands and leave the bathroom to answer the ringing phone, nearly tripping over a sleeping Robbin in the process.

"Hello?" I ask, rubbing my forehead that's sore from the remains of a migraine.

"Hey, Viv, is Nikki up?" Doc's voice rings through my ears and I look at the clock that reads "4:00 p.m."

"No."

"Don't you think he should be?"

"No."

"Ohhkay." He sounds like he's biting back frustration. "Are you feeling okay? You're kinda snappy."

"You had them on the road for seven months straight. You're not about to bother mine on the Fourth of July. Fuck off and call back in a month."

"Well, the label's pushing for them to start rehearsals for the Monsters of Rock festival that's coming up in a few weeks." He explains and I roll my jaw.

"Well, you tell the label there's no use in riding a dick if it's already been milked for what it's worth." I hang up on him, and step to the kitchen to make some shitty coffee.

"Mornin'." I hear Robbin yawn out, and glare at him to see him stretching before I ignore him. "Are you still mad at me?"

I don't speak a word.

"Viv?"

Still nothing.

He snaps his fingers in my face and I pretend he doesn't exist.

"Hey, Sixx, I think your wife's broken!" He calls to Nikki.

"You fucked Tansy, dude, just be happy your prick isn't broken." Nikki replies tiredly in a sigh.

"The fuck does that mean?"

"It means you as so much as even look at Tansy again, I rip it clean off in one swift tug." I promise him and he cuts his eyes down at me.

"She wanted to." He argues.

"Because you wanted to. If you didn't come on to her, she wouldn't have given it a second thought."

"What?"

"Tansy logic: Sparkler is the only man in the world...until another man hints that he wants pussy from her." Nikki explains to him.

"Well, have you and her...?" Robbin asks Nikki out of pure curiosity and we both stop what we're doing immediately, and I look at him as he pretends to be busy.

"Have you?" I ask, laughing it off as a joke but he still doesn't answer, causing me to cross my arms and take a step closer to him. "Have. You?" I keep on and he lets out a breath.

"What?!" Robbin's suddenly interested, his brows raising as a grin plasters on his face.

"It was, like, before me and you started dating and we were both shit-faced and it just happened." He tells me and I feel my heart drop to my stomach.

"W-what happened to you and Mick being the only two of the band she hadn't slept with?!"

"You'd just gone dress shopping for our wedding when we talked about that, Viv, I wasn't gonna tell you, then and there, that I fucked your best friend way back when." He argues with a shrug. "It was irrelevant."

"Were you even going to tell me without being backed in to a corner?!" I can barely get the words out, my heart feeling like it's about to burst.

"Viv, baby, it was before you and me were even together exclusively, alright? Just drop it."

"No, you just screwed me and a couple days later, screwed someone who's like my sister and didn't bother to tell me and probably wouldn't have told me!" I throw at him and he points his finger in my face.

"I said, 'drop it', Vivian!" He barks.

"Do I even want to know how many other women you've slept with?!" I ignore him, shoving his hand out of my face.

"When we were dating or since we've been married?!" He gets me to shut up then and there, and the breath is knocked out of my body.

I meant how many women had he had sex with after he and I started messing around before we were anything exclusive, but he took it and ran with it a hell of a lot farther than I expected.

I told myself he didn't mean it, that he told me that to really hurt me and get me to shut up, but I was obviously an idiot to believe he hadn't cheated and never would.

He doesn't say another word before grabbing a T-shirt and his keys, storming out.

It's just me and Robbin, now, and he gives me a sympathetic look before clearing his throat.

"I'm sure he didn't mean that, Viv." He assures me. "I'll go talk to him." He says next and follows after Nikki, leaving me to myself in the apartment.

My shaking hand grabs the coffee pot, picking it up to pour coffee, but my unsteadiness causes me to pour some on my hand that's holding my coffee cup.

The searing burn causes me to drop my coffee cup and skimper back as it breaks on the floor, while my utter frustration and hurt from the earlier argument has me giving up and throwing the coffee pot at the wall across the room.

The glass flies in all directions, coffee staining the already fucked walls and leaving a dent in the Sheetrock.

I give myself two options: go back to bed and don't shed a tear, or have a good cry about it and go on with my day.

I go back to bed.

He and Robbin stayed gone, so by day nine of being by myself and nearly going absolute nuts having to sleep alone, I decided desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Viv?" Vince asks, rubbing his eyes and I shove past him and into his house with my bag of clothes and necessities plopping in the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Me and Nikki got in to it, he left, Robbin went with him, I've been home alone and it's driving me crazy. Tansy's staying at Tommy's while she's in town and I'm not happy with her at the moment so you or Mick were my last resort and he once told me he's thinks I'll snap one day and kill all of you in your sleep and I don't like that, so, you're my last option. Feel special." I give a sarcastic smile at him, glancing around at the really, really nice house.

"What'd you and Nikki get in to it about?" He asks.

"Tansy." Is all I have to say, apparently, before Vince gets this look on his face that confirms he knows.

"You knew?!"

"We thought he already told you. He told us like right before you guys got married 'cause he felt kinda guilty for not telling you and vented about it over drinks." He explains to me.

"Why doesn't anybody ever tell me anything?!"

"Well, not to be a dick, but you're kinda sensitive, Viv." He hesitantly points out.

"I'm what?"

"Sensitive. You bitch out over everything."

"Because you're dumbasses." I argue, crossing my arms.

He doesn't say anything, stepping past me to grab a beer from the fridge and I take a moment to step up the stairs of the foyer and find the living room, plopping down on the couch.

"Here." He hands me a Pepsi, and opens his drink, sitting down beside me.

"I know something, Vince." I inform him and he furrows his brows at me. "About Nikki." I add, seriously, and he breathes deeply through his nose and sighs out.

"Yeah, what's that?"

"I don't know." I admit, blankly. "I don't know what it is that I know, but I know."

"Sounds pretty solid to me." He chuckles, teasing me and I hold back a smile.

"It's called women's intuition." I state, swigging my Pepsi.

"Trust me, I know, it makes all of you fuckin' psycho." He scoffs.

Before I can reply, I hear a door close upstairs, and the sound of light footed steps coming closer to us.

There's a beautiful blonde woman standing before us in a matter of seconds, wearing a tight, short, hot pink dress from the night before, holding her silver pumps in her hands.

"Oh, hi." She greets me, shyly looking to Vince and he stands up and goes to her.

"Uh, Sharise, this is Vivian, Viv, this is Sharise." He introduces us.

"Hey." I say to her, noticing the way Vince acts towards her.

"I was just going, I've got work again at Tropicana tonight, so..." She explains before looking at Vince. "I had a great time last night. I'll see you around, Alright?"

"Yeah, definitely." He replies, a little awkward.

"Right. Bye-bye." She smiles smugly waving her fingers at the both of us as she leaves us alone, and I wait until I hear the front door shut before saying:

"You never let your one-night stands stay this late." I say, glancing at the clock that reads “five o’clock pm.”

"Well, she's not really a one-night stand." He tells me.

"Vince, shouldn't you let the ink dry on your freshly drawn up divorce papers before you start dating again?"

"I was and then I took a page from Tommy's book and decided life's too short to just have a string of pointless groupies chasing after me for fame and money. I want the real thing, ya know? So I'm open minded to a serious relationship." He shrugs.

"She's good in bed, isn't she?"

"I wouldn't know."

I look at him crookedly, nearly falling over.

"You haven't slept with her?"

"No. She said fucking on the first date is classless."

I just nod and we stay quiet for a moment before he smirks at me.

"Which means my half-naked mud wrestling soon-to-be girlfriend, has more class in one pinky than Saint Vivian, dedicated member of the Assembly of God, has in her whole body. I mean, you were on your back for Nikki more than you were on your knees for prayer before you two even thought about dating."

"Yeah, yeah, forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." I roll my eyes as I sarcastically let out and he chuckles.

"Look," He starts again, nudging me with his arm. "You and Sixx will be fine, Alright? Just let him do whatever he wants to do because he'll do it anyway. Save yourself some pointless arguments and let Nikki do what Nikki's gonna do."

"What if it's other women?"

"We're fuckin' rockstars, Viv. You knew that when you married him." It's said innocently, like he truly believes that's an excuse to cover anyone's betrayal to their significant other.

He sang that same song when Nikki's oh-so-public affair with Vanity was announced on national television and left me on the bathroom floor of a hotel for three hours after I finished fighting with Nikki about it.

Vince had knocked on the door, making me think he was genuinely worried for me, only to say, "you're being ridiculous" and "what did you expect? We're rockstars."

But when everything went to hell after everybody found out about my thing with Duff, Vince was the first to point out I was a "groupie slut after all"

He was just pissed that out of all the guys on that tour I could've cheated on Nikki with, I didn't choose him, as if he was the obvious, one and only, best choice.

I knew if Nikki found out about Duff, it'd break his heart, but if I were dumb enough and selfish enough to fuck Vince, that would be the final nail in my coffin and Nikki would've actually killed me in a strung out, blind rage being that the two of them resented each other at the time.

By the time it's time for me to go to bed, Vince is getting ready to go out.

He digs through his closet to find something to wear while I tuck myself in to bed, trying not to think of what nasty things have happened in it.

"So, honey, if I bring someone home with me, would you be up for a threeway?" He asks and I raise a brow.

"If you bring someone home, go to a spare bedroom." I tell him.

"It's my bedroom, Vivian." He scoffs. "It's not even your house."

"Fine, I'll go."

"No!" He protests, sighing. "Fine, fuck in the spare room, got it." He relents, waving me off as he steps to the door. "Be back later."

"Be careful, don't be stupid." I say to him and he smirks.

"I'll try." It's a smart ass response that is a complete lie.

He gets back earlier than I expect him to, waking me up when he clumsily stumbles into the room.

My back's to him, and when I realize he doesn't sound like he usually does when he's messed up, I go to turn the lamp on to see him.

Before I can, however, his Jack Daniels tainted lips are capturing mine in the dark.

I would start swinging if it were actually Vince.

I pull away first, and Nikki's following after my lips, not happy I separated us.

"What're you doing here?" I ask him in a whisper, my eyes adjusting to him in the pitch black of the room.

He doesn't answer, his thumb running across my bottom lip before he's leaning forward again, with the intention of finishing what he's started.

I don't refuse him this time, my hands threading through his messy, fluffy, black hair while my lips keep up with his urgent pace.

He tugs at my T-shirt, throwing it away from us as if clothing is forbidden to even be within eight foot of us at the moment.

I get his shirt off the same way, nearly starving for the two seconds that our lips and tongues are separated.

He pushes me back on the bed, and while I'm laying here in nothing but my panties, he gets on his knees and starts unlacing his leather pants.

I realize what exactly is taking so long for him to get them undone when he's taking my wrists and wrapping the lace from his pants around them, tying the both of them to the headboard.

My core is a throbbing mess, knowing he can do anything he wants to me for however long he wants to.

Rubbing my thighs together, I give a faint moan out, my nipples tightening as my foot trails up his leather clad thigh and grazes over the bulge that's dying to be freed.

He smirks, his hands smoothly and slowly running down the inside of both my legs, separating them as he goes, until I'm spread eagle in a full split.

"God bless flexibility." He chuckles out, reaching in to his pocket, pulling out his switch blade.

My panties are gone, being cut off and forgotten by the time he's got his pants off and I take in a sharp breath when he grabs at my jaw and kisses me passionately, his tongue lacing along mine.

Hands hold at my rib cage to still it as my back arches when his lips trail between my breasts, purposely avoiding my nipples.

Teeth nip at my skin with each kiss, leaving small love bites, until he gets to one of his favorite places on my body: the rib right under my right breast.

I feel like it maintains bruised teeth intentions in the skin there.

It’s easy for him to sink his teeth into and run his tongue over hotly, afterward.

I attempt to roll my hips in to him, but he pins my hip bones to keep me still, his tongue teasing at the curve of my right breast, right above the teeth marks he just left, before going to my nipple, sucking and tugging with his teeth.

I sigh out, close my eyes and pull my lip into my mouth to keep from crying out.

He does the same to my left breast, never neglecting an inch of skin.

There’s undoubtedly a wet spot under me on Vince’s mattress.

Not the first time it’s had bodily fluids on it, so I don’t give it a second thought.

He puts his pointer and middle finger in to my mouth to get them wet before rubbing at my wantonly soaked pussy.

“How much have you missed me?” He asks, his lips brushing against mine while his fingers go back and forth from my entrance to my clit.

I lift my head a little bit to meet his lips completely, wishing my hands weren’t restrained so I could touch him.

I don’t have to answer his question, my answer is embedded in the way my lips move hungrily with his and when he pulls away, he moves a couple strands of hair away from my face, his fingers lightly grazing my cheek as his fingers between my legs suddenly plunge into me.

I gasp out, his fingers curling inside of me, pulling out, pushing back in, curling, and repeating.

His eyes never leave mine while he does this, my parted lips intaking breaths, and saying his name under my breath with each movement while my eyes flutter closed.

He takes his fingers from me, cleaning them off before settling himself between my spread legs.

I stop myself from wrapping my legs around his waist when he slowly enters me.

“Ahh, fuck.” He says to himself, a satisfied hiss slipping past his lips.

The friction of him stretching me, the angle that has him able to get completely in to me, and the feeling of his pubic hair moving against me with each thrust creates a sensation that further fuels my addiction to him.

It’s a slow and taunting pace, possibly the closest we’ve ever come to “making love”.

He slides into me, hits the spot inside of me that drives me crazy, pushes himself against it despite not being able to get any further into me which adds an indescribable pleasurable pain before he pulls out and starts again.

Our bodies are cloaked in sweat before too long, the intensity of the silent apology taking place between us is added to with deep breaths, moans, and prying eye contact despite the room being blackout dark.

I assume he gets tired of barely any contact from me, because he’s fumbling his fingers to untie my wrists.

The second I’m free, I’m flipping us over, my hands on either side of his jaw, my lips on his.

He laughs a little at my eagerness, and I make sure to maintain the slow pace, only moving my hips up and down on him while my chest is against his, and his hands and arms rub against my back as he hugs me to him for a moment.

One of his hands slides down my spine to my ass, guiding my movements while his hips push up to meet mine when they move down on him.

My clit continues to rub against his pubic bone while his prick pushes into me to the hilt, and my lips go to his neck, trailing up and down any exposed skin there.

His fingers wrap in my red hair and pull my lips back up to his as he feels me tighten around him.

“I—I’m about to come.” I whisper against his lips.

“I can tell.” He replies. “You’re mine, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question sounding off the deepest parts of his mind that are terrified of abandonment, and I can’t even speak, completely consumed by my orgasm, my toes curling as he keeps himself pushed against my g-spot, sending more and more tremors through my body while my core tenses around him.

He turns us back over, getting a handful of thrusts in before he’s about to finish. Just as he’s about pull out of me, I’m wrapping my legs around his waist, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear while I stupidly encourage him with, “please come in me.”

That’s enough to end him, and he grunts out, spilling inside of me and I don’t untangle my legs from him until he’s done.

We lay there in our aftermath, sweaty and tired.

The only thing I’m able to say is:

“Of course I’m your’s, Nikki.”

It was like I was subconsciously craving punishment with no idea that two months later I would be meeting my blue-haired glutton for it.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #colson baker #daniel webber #douglas booth #the dirt #the dirt movie #gateway drug

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xiubaek-13 · 5 years ago

Text

Hold On - Part 1

Genre: First love & break ups.

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok, Reader x Yoongi

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Alcohol, Heartbreak, Drug use (only mentions of it), First love.

Word Count: 5,094

Summary: Hoseok was your first love and for two and a half years he was your everything. Yoongi was his best friend, they did almost everything together until Yoongi got a girlfriend who was his world for a few years. Yoongi was also your friend, having been to school with him. Hoseok broke your heart when he ended things with you but you hadn’t been able to let him go, reducing yourself to friends with benefits as you clung to the relationship that no longer existed, the love that was no longer there. Yoongi was there for you when his friend hurt you and he tried to keep you away from gatherings that Hoseok would be at but there was no avoiding the two of you being at one of his own parties, a camping gathering on his mother’s property.

They say that all good things come to an end; but what they don’t prepare you for is when one party still feels like what they have is good and the other doesn’t. It’s one thing for a relationship to end when you both know there are problems, or when one of you fucks up, but when one of you is blissfully happy and the other isn’t - that’s hell on both sides. One way to work out just how many tears a human body can produce is to have your heart shattered by your first love. It’s a thing your parents try to protect you from as best they can, but at the end of the day you loved wholly, completely and honestly. To be told that the person you utterly adored no longer felt that same love for you broke you.

You’d put two and a half years into your relationship with Hobi. What had started as a schoolyard crush developed into a fun and teasing friendship. You often recalled the day you ran out of food tech and squished a muffin in his face because he’d mocked your cooking abilities. That might have been the first day he truly noticed you. He still didn’t act on anything, but you both started to chat more often.

You’d always gotten on better with the guys in the school than the girls. You preferred to read or sit and listen to music and apparently that was uncool by their standards. You didn’t interest them because you weren’t gossiping about boys or what party you were going to try and sneak out to that weekend. Your ideal weekend was, and still is, having comfort food and reading or watching a movie. You just didn’t have that girly gene. You never wanted to play dress up or learn how to apply makeup or style your hair and you were satisfied with how you looked. You honestly didn’t give a shit about what any of them thought about you. You never needed to put in any effort with how you looked when you hung out with your guy friends. They actually praised you on being able to be dressed and ready to go in under 15 minutes.

Yoongi transferred to the school midyear, he mostly kept to himself but the boy crazed girls in your year decided that he was an enigma; wrapped in a mystery because he was quiet and didn’t appear to chase after girls. It took you all of three days hanging out with Hobi and Jin to find out that Yoongi was a pretty cool guy who preferred to observe people than interact with them, and that he was definitely not lacking in suitors… he just preferred them older. That explained his lack of patience with the way some of the girls in your year threw themselves at him.

For the remainder of the year your friendships with the guys in your year grew and you found yourself invited to small gatherings they had - gaming nights, movie marathons and random trips into the forest at their houses. Yoongi became more relaxed around you once he figured out that you could appreciate silence and weren’t trying to jump his bones. In fact, he was the one who approached you when he needed help asking a girl out. He knew how to seduce older women but he had no clue when it came to someone his age. You’d been the perfect wingwoman and since you’d worked your magic he’d been virtually inseparable from her.

All too soon the year ended and you transferred to another school to complete your senior years. A handful of your classmates made the same move but your main group of friends remained, leaving you alone for the first time in years. The new school was structured to be more like university, with longer class hours and calling teachers by their first name. You really enjoyed the new atmosphere and thrived in the freedom you were allowed. School no longer felt like a prison and you were free to come and go as you pleased.

Moving schools must have made Hobi realise what he was losing because one day when you were out of town with your mother he texted you. You had to read the text repeatedly because you were sure of a few things. a) that someone had stolen his phone and texted you b) that this was a joke and c) there was no way it could be true. It was a simple text but, ever the overthinker, you dissected it like it was a coded message.

[9:45am] Hobi: Wanna know something? I miss seeing you at school. Did you know that I like you? A lot.

That’s all it said and yet you tried to find some deeper meaning or some hidden sign to prove that it was a joke. No one had ever told you they liked you. You’d always been the friend and nothing more. You’d helped countless times whenever one of your friends found a girl they were interested in, but you were never the object of anyone’s interest and you were fine with that. You had a lot that you wanted to accomplish in life, and you were young. The last thing you wanted was for a guy to waltz into your life and throw a spanner in the works.

You debated not answering but you didn’t want to be that girl. You’d seen enough times when a girl would ignore Jimin and how badly it messed with his head, you had no desire to do that to Hobi. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that you liked him too, but you had only ever thought of him as a friend. You had never entertained the idea of anything more with any of your guy friends. Yet here you were, sitting on the floor at your grandma’s house surrounded by family, feeling like the response you sent would determine the course of your relationship with Hobi from here out.

[9:48am] You: I miss having your dorky face around too. Define ‘like’ for me will you? Is this secret text speak to let me know that you’re being held hostage and need rescuing because if so, you are out of luck, I’m out of town with my family.

You hit send and waited. You replayed your entire friendship with Hobi in your head, searching for any hints that the boy liked you as more than a friend. For the life of you, you couldn’t think of anything.

Your phone buzzed, letting you know that he’d responded. You hesitated. Did you want to see the response? What would you do if he was kidding? What would you do if he was genuinely interested in you? Question after question flew through your mind at a rapid pace. You didn’t get time to mentally answer one before the next appeared. You shook your head to clear your thoughts and picked up your phone. All of the what if’s would drive you mad so you figured you might as well look at his response and deal with it from there.

[9:50am] Hobi: I’m not being held hostage you idiot. I’m hungover and finally decided to tell you that I have a crush on you ok?

Little did you know that your response would lead to the two of you having a very open discussion about what you liked about each other and then the teasing turned to flirting. The flirting turned to long phone conversations where you shared stories with each other and learned more about each other. During that time your feeling started to shift and you started to really care for him. You felt your feeling grow and soon enough Hobi was on your mind every day. All you wanted to do was spend time with him and hang out but your parents were pretty strict, never letting you hang out with boys on your own because apparently if that were to happen suddenly you’d be pregnant. Their knee jerk reaction frankly, offended you. They had such little faith in your ability to keep your legs shut that they decided to remove the option for you to spend time with friends - especially if they were guys.

It took a little bit of lying on your part for the two of you to finally spend time together outside of school. One of your friends was having a sleepover and movie night and your parents agreed to let you go since you told them it was just you and a few girls. You left out the part where there would be a few guys there as well because you really wanted to see him and you really didn’t see what the problem was. You weren’t about to lose your virginity to Hobi, hell the two of you hadn’t even kissed yet.

That night the two of you had your first kiss and decided that you both needed more practice because it was awkward as all hell. It was sloppy and inexperienced, and even though neither of you had any prior experience to draw from, you both knew it should have been better. So you kept trying until it was perfect. Then you kept kissing because it was addictive and you liked how his lips felt on yours; how he could make you breathless and make you feel desired.

It was 6 months in when he first told you he loved you. You’d been watching anime on a thin mattress on the floor. You weren’t sure if he had meant to say it so you kept quiet but as soon as you felt him tense you turned to see him staring down at you, his eyes full of vulnerability. He’d been worried that you didn’t feel the same but you soon eradicated that fear. “I love you too Hobi.” The smile that filled his face warmed your heart. You loved that you could bring him this much joy.

He was a good guy. He respected your weird wishes and didn’t pressure you to have sex, the two of you just continued to explore each other in every other way until that day, almost one year into your relationship, when you told him you wanted to try it. Almost one year in and your parents finally let you stay at his parent’s house with him. They didn’t realize just how well acquainted you were with his bed, or how his parents didn’t care what the two of you got up to. There had been times when you were driving home and you could still feel where his hands had been. Unlike the first kiss, sex for the first time was not awkward. You put it down to the 11 months of foreplay and learning each others bodies like the back of your hand, but it didn’t hurt. It made you feel even closer and opened up a whole new thing for you to both explore.

You trusted each other implicity and because of that the two of you not only learned what positions you liked the most but you also explored kinks and ideas that turned you on. You had no problems telling each other if something wasn’t working or instructing each other on how to do better. Sex was a learning experience and the two of you were more than willing to put the hours in to make it the best it could be for both of you.

The relationship wasn’t all sex though. Hobi would surprise you, and though neither of you could afford much, he’d take you on fun and thoughtful dates. There was one time where he saved up and took you to a fancy restaurant he knew you liked, and there was another time where he tricked you into getting into his jeep at 4am. He’d put a mattress in the back and a ton of pillows and blankets, as well as a basket with snacks and hot chocolate. He drove to one of the hills at the back of the property that overlooked the mountains and the two of you watched the sunrise in comfort. He made you laugh, he made you care, and most importantly, he always made you feel comfortable with being yourself. He loved that you weren’t afraid to disagree with him and could hold a proper debate with him. He loved that you always wanted to cuddle but didn’t crowd him. You never had a problem with him having time to himself or to hang out with friends, you knew how much he cared for you and you understood the need for time away from your significant other.

Fast forward another year and you’d both finished high school. You’d often talked about this day, knowing that you’d likely take different paths. He wanted to take a year to travel and work while you wanted to go straight to university, knowing that if you stopped studying you’d likely never return to it. The ultimate dream for your future was for the two of you to move to the south of France and live in a quaint little cottage with your two dogs and be independently wealthy. You’d have no worries or anything to stress you and you could just enjoy each other for the rest of your days. When you’re young, bright eyed and bushy tailed, that kind of dream future seemed so attainable to you… Not that you were old now, but you felt far less naive.

Unsurprisingly the long distance thing didn’t work out. Initially he’d asked to take a break while the two of you were apart, saying it would be easier if you didn’t have to worry about each other for the six months he’d be gone. You’d cried a lot, thinking he was trying to be gentle and break up with you but he assured you that it was temporary and that he still loved you more than anything.

The break lasted two weeks. He caved first, calling you from some backwater town to tell you how much he missed you.

“Hobi, are you crying?” You’d asked.

He sniffled before answering. “Maybe. Look, I was an idiot ok? My parents told me the whole break thing was the smart thing to do but all I’ve thought about for the past two weeks is you and how I want to call you my girlfriend and it kills me to think of you not being able to call me your boyfriend. Can we please end this break thing? I hate it so much.”

You sunk into your beanbag, feeling the weight and sadness that this whole break thing had brought you. “Of course, baby. You know I hated the idea in the first place.”

He exhaled. “Thank god. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no. I can’t lie, it’s going to be difficult, but I feel better if we’re together.”

The six months passed slowly and painfully for you. You were living at college and going to parties while he was away working. You were never tempted to cheat and you were thankful that no matter how drunk the people you lived with got, they always remembered that you were off limits. You visited home whenever you could, going to his parents house and taking photos to send him of his room and his dog. You hung out with the guys who were still in town, Yoongi and Jungkook.

Yoongi understood yours and Hobi’s situation perfectly since his girlfriend had moved away to study as well. He didn’t want to move, and so they were doing the long distance thing too. Jungkook was studying online so that he could stay living at home longer. Deep down you got the feeling that he just wasn’t ready to leave the comfort of his home town yet, but you knew that he’d eventually leave and once he did, he’d probably never return.

You passed a lot of time hanging out with Yoongi and playing video games. It made both of you feel less lonely and you understood each others mood swings and the reasons for them.

“Long distance fucking sucks.” he’d blurted one night.

“I’m not gonna disagree with that.” you’d replied.

“She’s always too busy to chat to me lately… w-what am I supposed to do with that?” He glanced at you, a small fire in his eyes. His girlfriend had been dodging his calls all week and you had been waiting for it to reach breaking point for him. Apparently tonight was that night. “I get that she has classes and assignments but she can’t give me 10 fucking minutes? I miss her, does she even miss me? I just want to hear her voice, to hear how she smiles when she talks to me… does that make me pathetic or something?” What started as a rant drifted off into self doubt and as he uttered those final words he averted his gaze, not wanting you to see how hurt he was by her actions.

“When was the last time she made time for you?” you asked gently.

“Honestly,” he scoffed. “I don’t remember.”

“Then Yoongi, you need to tell her what you just told me. You need to tell her that she isn’t making any time for you in her life and that it needs to change.”

His response was almost a whisper, as though he didn’t want to think of the answer. “And if she doesn’t make time?”

You took a deep breath. “Then as much as I hate to even say the words, it might mean the end. It’s not fair on you to be putting in all of the effort. Relationships are not a one way thing.”

“But I love her.”

“And if she still loves you as much as you love her then she’s listen to your concerns and make time for you in her life.”

They lasted one more month until she began pushing him out of her life again. He made a last stand for their relationship and travelled down to see her. You still don’t know what happened during that trip but when he returned he refused to talk to you. He only spoke to Hobi and Jungkook, and Hobi told you during one of your phone calls that Yoongi was now single. You felt for him because he really did love his girlfriend, but she apparently had started moving on long before he had even thought of letting her go.

From that moment on, Hobi was different. He was due to return in only a few weeks and he kept dodging making any plans to see you. He just wouldn’t let you pick a day to see him, saying he had to wait to see what his family and the guys were doing first then he could let you know. It should have been a warning sign, but you let yourself reason that he had valid excuses. More than that, you didn’t want to be the pushy girlfriend and you were scared that if you pushed to see him, he’d only grow more distant. The calls that had once lasted twenty minutes or more were now reduced to a maximum of five minutes, barely enough time to have any sort of conversation.

You didn’t see him for a whole week after he came home and it was tearing you apart. Every time you had a text notification you were afraid to look because you thought it would be him telling you he didn’t want to see you. Every time someone wanted to make plans with you, you hesitated in case he asked to see you then. You’d texted Yoongi, telling him your concerns but he’d told you not to worry, that Hobi was just adjusting to being home and he’d be back to normal soon.

When you finally saw him it was like nothing had changed. He’d engulfed you in a bone crushing hug and peppered kisses all over your face. He’d held you tight and told you how much he’d missed you and how sorry he was that he’d seemed strange and distant lately. You forgave him because you were just so happy to have your Hobi back. It was different this time. He needed more time to himself than he used to and he took to partying which concerned you. More than that, when you voiced your concerns he told you to lighten up.

You started to dislike the person he became when he drank or got high but you remained silent, telling yourself you were happy. He loved you and you loved him and that should be enough.

The tension only grew between the two of you, you were constantly upset that he didn’t seem to want to make time for you and he kept telling you that you were smothering him. You tried taking a step back and told yourself you wouldn’t contact him unless it was an emergency, otherwise you’d wait for him to contact you. You wanted to give him his space and not feel like you were suffocating him but at the same time, deep down, you knew something was coming, and that you weren’t going to like it. You pushed that feeling deep down, not wanting to dwell on it.

It took four days for him to reach out and talk to you. He invited you over to hang out and you were so happy that you’d get to spend the day with him, just the two of you. He treated you wonderfully that day, snuggling on the couch while you watched a movie before the two of you gave in to baser needs and fucked on the couch. In all of this the sex had never become boring or passionless. It was one way you could still tell how much he cared for you.

But the parties continued and you could no longer pretend to be happy. You couldn’t handle the way he shifted between doting boyfriend and life of the party, stoned and wanting nothing to do with you unless it meant sex. You stormed out one night and started walking home, you didn’t care that it was on country roads with no lights or that it would take hours, you just needed to leave.

You’d gotten about 20 minutes down the road when Yoongi’s car found you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I can’t stay there Yoongi.” You tried to swallow the tears that were threatening to fall. “I just can’t. Don’t pretend like you can’t see the way he’s changed.”

The look in his eyes told you that he understood. He didn’t speak straight away, rather he let you get control of yourself before he continued the conversation. “Then where are you going?”

“Home.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “What?! Your home is nowhere near here. Walking would take all night.”

“I can’t be there right now. That’s all I know.” You pointed at Hobi’s place as you spoke.

Yoongi sighed. “Get in.” When you hesitated he added. “I promise, I’m not taking you back there. Let me drive you home if you are so adamant on leaving. I cannot in good conscience let you walk in the pitch fucking black for hours.”

He was true to his word, not turning the car around but instead driving you back towards town. You were so in your own head that you hadn’t even thought to ask why he had left his best friends party but it’s something you would ponder at length later in the night. You stared out the window as the countryside flew by. Yoongi didn’t try to disturb the silence that enveloped the vehicle rather he let it carry on, telling himself that the moment it started to feel awkward he’d speak.

The trees slowly became fewer and the buildings and urban landscape began to grow outside your window signifying that you had reached town. Yoongi hadn’t driven straight to your place, instead veering towards his own. You turned your head with a somewhat confused look upon your face. You figured he was going to drop you home then head to his place afterwards. It made no sense to you for him to go to it first.

“I uh, well I figured I’d offer you a choice.” He started.

“Yoon-”

“Let me finish.” He cuts you off before you can protest. “Option one - I drive you to your parents place and you stay there or option 2. I let you into the granny flat I sleep in at my dad’s place and you stay here. Either option, you’ll have a bed to yourself but I figured you might not want to go home since you smell like smoke and booze.”

The confused look doesn’t leave your face. “Weren’t you going home? I’m not kicking you out of your bed Yoongi.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. Jungkook told me you just up and left the party and I knew Hobi drove you to his place so I figured like the stubborn person you are, you took off with the intent to walk home. You owe me dinner or something to make up for it.” He chuckled.

“In that case, I’ll stay in your room.” He nodded and parked the car. Before he could get out you grabbed his hand, causing him to look back at you, a perplexed look upon his face. “Thank you for… just thank you.”

His gaze softened. “He’ll come around, you just have to let him get used to being home again. Also, I take pizza as payment.” He smirked as he finished speaking, trying to lift the mood so that you wouldn’t wallow for the remainder of the night. “Come on, I’ll let you in so you can shower and sleep. I will kill you if you get in my bed smelling like that.”

“…The fuck do you expect me to sleep in?” You asked. Surely he realised that the clothes you were wearing were the only clothes you had with you and you sure as hell weren’t sleeping naked in your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed.

“I honestly don’t care. Go through my drawers and find something then shower.” He paused as he unlocked the door to the granny flat. “I swear to god if my pillow smells like cheap whiskey and weed I’ll hunt you down and-”

“Relax. Stop worrying your pretty head, I’ll shower jeez.” you muttered as you pushed past him, ruffling his hair.

He chuckled and started to close the door. “Sleep well schnookums.” He caught the pillow that you flung at him, laughing harder when he saw the look on your face. He tossed it back and tried to compose himself. “Goodnight, sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

“You are so fucking cheesy. My god.” You laughed reluctantly. “Goodnight Yoongi.”

You did what Yoongi suggested. You gave Hobi time to return to normal, to come back to you, and for a little while it worked. There were days when he’d turn up and it was as if he’d never left. He took you on cute dates, spent time with you, rekindled your sex life, talked about the future - the whole shebang. For a time, you were happy. But in the background you noticed habits that he picked up, smoking, drinking, partying… and you disliked them more and more every time you saw him doing any of those activities. Every time you confronted him about your concerns he somehow spun the conversation into a guilt trip, making you feel like the bad person.

Then that day arrived. The day you’d been dreading so much that you’d pushed all of the warning signs so far down in the hopes that if you pretended like everything was fine then it would be. You had a friend from college visiting and it was her final night staying with you. You’d spent the night laughing and watching trashy tv accompanied by equally as trashy snacks when he called. You knew immediately that something was wrong from the tone of his voice, he sounded so deflated and resigned and it honestly scared you. It twisted something in your gut and a weird feeling flooded your system. You excised yourself from your room and went to sit in your car, needing to be alone for whatever conversation you were about to have.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

Alone those words meant nothing but put into a sentence that came out of the mouth of the person you loved, those words were like a knife to the gut. Instantly you hated that sentence. You tried to reason with him and press him for an explanation, thinking nothing could be worse than that sentence. You were wrong, there was a far more painful sentence coming.

“I don’t think I love you anymore.”

You broke. The knife in your gut left only to ram back into your heart and twist. You’d never believed descriptions of heart break but in that moment you knew that no matter how a person described it - the real feeling was a hundred times worse. You sobbed as you tried to talk to him, to figure out what went so wrong, thinking that if you could pinpoint a specific reason then you could fix it. You both ended up in tears because even if he didn’t love you anymore, he still hated being the reason for your pain.

A/N Thanks for reading & please - comments are always welcome.

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ghoultyrant · 5 years ago

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I've tried a few times to write Samus' pov before and I've had a lot of trouble. I feel like she is fairly inscrutable as characters go, being largely voiceless, and taciturn even when she does speak (not counting Other M). A lot of her dialogue is also removed from social interactions, being internal memos in scan logs. Idk. Maybe this is just me.

Samus as a character isn’t so much a cipher as an archaeological mystery.

The point of that comparison being that the Metroid series actually tends to tell a large fraction of its story through its environments, and does so quite well. Metroid II makes it clear that the endgame area is some manner of laboratory where the Metroids were apparently created, probably by the Chozo, but at some point control was lost. The laboratory is their nest because that’s where their existence as a species started, rather than the Metroid Queen selecting it as a good brooding ground for some other reason. Notably, the laboratory is unusually isolated and difficult to reach, even by Metroid II’s standards of travel distance, suggesting that the lab was deliberately cut off from the rest of the planet, and also probably explaining why the Metroid Queen didn’t wander off elsewhere to nest; she very possibly couldn’t.

In turn, this grounds a detail many players probably never questioned, but which is slightly odd on its own: that Metroids can apparently only grow into their Alpha and so on forms on SR388. As a consequence of natural evolution, this is certainly possible, but seems odd. But given that they’re clearly artificial, it’s easy to guess that the Chozo put that in as an artificial constraint; most likely the Chozo had plans for shipping them out to other worlds, and for some reason or another didn’t want them to change form once they were off the planet. (There’s a lot of plausible reasons for why they’d want this, but that’s a bit of a tangent)

Furthermore, this also grounds the Metroid Queen itself. Most players probably never question the fact that there’s literally only one Metroid Queen on an entire planet, because after all she’s the final boss. There’s obvious video game design reasons involved. But actually, it makes perfect sense in-universe: while fandom frequently assumes that any Metroid could potentially molt all the way to being a Metroid Queen, and that’s not an unreasonable assumption, it’s also entirely possible the Metroid Queen was one-of-a-kind because the Chozo carefully designed things so she’d be unique; that the Metroid Queen was built to be a Queen from the ground up, and is not supposed to be capable of producing more Queen-capable Metroids. That would be a logical thing to do to limit the damage in the event of a containment failure, and neatly explains why the planet has only one Metroid Queen even though Metroids themselves are running rampant across the planet.

Speaking of the Chozo and environmental storytelling, the fact that we saw their statues on two different planets back in the original trilogy was already a strong indication that the Chozo were a spacefaring species. Metroid Prime using scan logs to spell it out was a confirmation of an already-likely-true thing, not a state of canon invented by that particular entry. Again, I imagine a lot of players never questioned it because there’s game design reasons that are obviously applicable (eg that Chozo statues are frequently used to mark Important Power-Ups), but it’s extremely good environmental storytelling.

Anyway, that’s just some bits from Metroid II. Aside Other M and let me be brutally honest Samus Returns (I enjoyed it, but it mostly doesn’t try to do environmental storytelling, and probably-accidentally heavily retcons things, with the Metroid Queen’s nest no longer being set deep inside a laboratory being the most blatant example), the Metroid series does this heavily and constantly. The player is expected, if they care about the story and the world it takes place in, to look at the details they can see and make inferences.

And if they don’t care about any of that, it’s not intruding on their experience: they can just play a fun little game with blasting aliens and whatever.

Looping this back to Samus, though: yeah, we mostly don’t get Samus’ voice, both in a literal sense and in the writing sense. What we get is a ton of secondary information hinting at the kind of person she is, supplemented with concrete facts (eg that she was substantially raised by the Chozo), and then are expected to draw inferences.

As one of the more obvious examples: the first two games implicitly establish that Samus has to have a high degree of confidence in her abilities, or if she doesn’t she’s got a literally suicidal streak. She twice accepts missions to travel alone, deep into hostile territory, with the interstellar bounty hunter equivalent of nothing but the clothes on her back. Metroid II’s manual tells us that some elite corps of soldiers was sent to SR388 and never heard from again, and this didn’t dissuade Samus from going in completely alone.

This strongly implies she earnestly believes she can do the job when a literal small army couldn’t even survive: it’s not just that the Egenoid Star Marines failed at the mission, it’s that they were so completely out of their depth that none of them were able to escape the planet to report their failure!

Important and related is that starting from Metroid Ii it’s very normal for Samus to unambiguously have the option of just turning around and leaving. Her ship is on-planet, she uses it to leave at the end of a given game, and nonetheless she sticks each given mission out. She doesn’t encounter Omega Metroids and go ‘no, this is too dangerous, I’m out’. She doesn’t rampage across half of Zebes in Super Metroid and give up in disgust when she fails to find the stolen Metroid reasonably quickly. She doesn’t report the Space Pirates on Tallon IV to the Federation and leave them to clean up that particular mess while she goes to get a drink. Echoes and Fusion are the only games that actually trap Samus on-site temporarily to justify her ongoing presence, and even then if you bother to visit and scan her ship regularly in Echoes you’ll discover it’s ready for liftoff well before it’s time for the endgame, while in Fusion it actually doesn’t take that long to get back access to the Main Deck and thus her ship.

A lot of games that place a player character alone and far from civilization are very careful to explain that the player character was stranded in this strange place, and implicitly or explicitly sets the player character’s goal as escape back to civilization. The implication is generally that these are people who would never willingly inflict such a situation on themselves, and if they ever accidentally found themselves in such a situation with the ability to back out, they’d take it in a heartbeat.

Samus, meanwhile, keeps ending up in these situations and sticking them out. She doesn’t mind being alone with her thoughts for long periods of time.

It’s worth mentioning that the Japanese version of the original Metroid tracked how long you’d played, only your hours of play were presented as how many days Samus had been on Zebes. If you treat this ratio as canonical to all future games, which are generally designed so a first-time player will beat them in 4-20 hours... yeah. Samus has repeatedly spent several days or weeks in a row far away from civilization, and is just fine with sticking those situations out, and even inflicting them fairly spontaneously on herself if she has a specific reason for doing so. (eg she goes to Tallon IV in pursuit of Ridley)

Now, since this is inference there’s a fundamental ambiguity here. I personally tend to interpret Samus as being someone who finds socializing with her fellow sentients to be a stressful experience, such that going out into the wild for a week is a form of decompression and relaxation, but this isn’t the only plausible interpretation, and honestly I probably go to that interpretation because I don’t cope well with that kind of social interaction, rather than it actually being a better interpretation. One could plausibly interpret Samus as someone who, say, is actually fairly intensely social and just rates (Insert mission objective here) as more important than her own personal comfort. (In this interpretation, it would be assumed she instead decompresses from her missions by partying with her must-exist-in-this-interpretation large circle of friends) That’s certainly an excellent justification for her chasing Ridley in Metroid Prime, for example, and if we ignore Other M entirely I can’t think of a Metroid game that could be said to contradict that particular interpretation. (And Other M doesn’t count because it contradicts literally every other game on so many levels; if one game doesn’t fit while the rest are consistent with each other, you toss that one game as an inconsistency)

(Well, actually, another reason I take my interpretation of Samus is that she was raised by Ascetic Space Bird Monks, but then again plenty of people rebel against their upbringing. It’s perfectly possible to say Intensely Social Samus was driven crazy by the Chozo expecting her to be an Ascetic Space Bird Monk But As A Tiny Human, and even suggest that she takes being Intensely Social even farther than she would’ve otherwise as pushback against that whole thing)

BUT

While there’s room for interpretation and murkiness on details, Samus across the games has a fairly clear sketch of a certain range of plausible personalities. This range is also further reduced if we actually, for example, acknowledge Samus’ monologues from Fusion, which make it clear Samus concerns herself with the big picture (Suggesting that she sticks out her missions at least in part because often The Fate Of The Galaxy hinges on them kind of thing), and also seems to indicate (Consistent with her observed behavior), that Samus isn’t someone inclined toward negotiation as a problem-solving mechanism -that is, she doesn’t even countenance the possibility of trying to talk the incoming Federation goons into not trying to weaponize the X, going straight to ‘I need to make sure it’s not possible for them to try’- and that she’s got a bit of a philosophical streak to her, of exactly the sort one might expect of someone raised by Ascetic Space Bird Monks.

But even without the Fusion monologues, it’s not actually that hard to dig up a coherent personality for Samus, consistent with what we see across most of the games and compelling in its own right. It just takes a mentality that, while unusual for most writing/reading, is completely consistent with how the Metroid series prefers to convey its stories.

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nomdy-plume · 5 years ago

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Have you seen ‘Inside Llewyn Davis’?

It’s a good job I don’t post a new blog every week – I’d have nothing to talk about.

Whereas, leaving it a few months between updates, I have LOTS to cover. You ready? Let’s begin:

Since returning from Texas, I have completed a month’s contract onboard another ferry, after my management were kind enough to offer me a way out of short-term pecuniary disenfranchisement. It was the sister-ship of the one that I normally find myself on and I’m pleased to say that it was the better of the two: the indoor smoking room (I no longer smoke) was a [much larger and better equipped] gym and the gym room was a very plush TV room with a full satellite package.

Given the cricket world cup was taking place during my contract, it was wonderful to be the only person on the ship who wasn’t busy working during the day. I had the whole TV room to myself (about 25 yards from the mess, food, drink, etc.) to indulge in what was an amazing tournament.

On my last two contracts I was playing in the main theatre (in the belly of the ship) with a party band but for a month I was providing troubadour, solo, action upstairs in the Sky lounge – my first contract as a soloist. After an initial knee-jerk reaction to accepting the contract of downloading a ton of backing tracks, so I could provide a range of musical options, I realised pretty quickly that this was completely unnecessary.

Performing 4x 30min sets a night: I started out by planning 3 days’ worth of unique sets, which I figured I could adjust and tinker with until I was happy with how they all worked out. Slow, mellow ones to start with before whipping the crowd into a frenzy with sing-a-long classics later on in the night. I think I had about 150 songs in my solo repertoire to choose from and it’s basically about 7 or 8 songs a set (depending on how long I drag them out for).

It was the usual mix of songs that I know I can play and sing – which work in a solo setting – and a desperate grab for as many other suitable songs which I could learn or which I really wanted to try out acoustically.

However, pretty early in the contract, one of the ladies on security in the port was kind enough to pass on her head cold to me. My throat was soon swollen enough for me to ask my Entertainments Manager (EM) if it would be OK if I just played some instrumental stuff until my voice was better. His reaction – reading between the lines, and the indifferent shrug – told me that he couldn’t care less what I did as long as I was up there making some form of noise for my allotted times.

Now, this meant that the bar staff / bar manager in my venue must have been happy with what they had heard of me so far: they are always the ones to complain if something isn’t working or going to plan. This pleased me: the bar staff have to listen to the solo act over and over and over again, every night for weeks on end, so whereas the passengers might only hear one or two performances, the staff will hear every single one.

They become very sensitive to how good/bad people are in both their playing and their selection of material – normally the lack of it. 150 songs might seem a lot, but that’s only 5 days worth before you repeat yourself IF you stick to playing every song.

Anyway, to cut to the chase, I quickly got the 30 min sets down to 3 or 4 songs – only two of which I might sing on. I needed to come up with a few more jazz instrumentals to bluff my way through as the staff were hearing Autumn Leaves and Blue Bossa every night, and I don’t want to drive them too mad…

It was a good exercise in needing to be creative with a looper pedal as well as figuring out which of my repertoire I could drag out for around ten mins with solos before and after each verse/chorus…

It meant that I could reduce the songs on which I did sing down to a select, polished group. It was a great relief to know that I could just throw down a loop and meander whimsically around some melodic lines for the duration of the sets. Audience were happy, bar staff were happy – I was over the moon!

The audiences were a mixed bag. Most were very receptive: in the warm summer evenings, the top lounge where I played was the place to be. Plus it is right next to the open smoking decks – so there have been some good numbers of bodies in, most of the time. They don’t seem to mind me in the corner with a looper pedal just noodling away and I’ve been able to play all the requests thrown my way so far. The German passengers seem extra friendly and receptive – apparently they LOVE a bit of Dire Straits, which suits me right down to the ground because so do I.

As per most contracts, there were times when a small, appreciative crowd were loving everything I was playing – just as there were times when a large, unappreciative crowd couldn’t have cared less what I was doing. In my final week, I was determined to give it everything I had in those final shows – I poured my heart and soul into everything I did. And no-one noticed, cared or gave a hoot.

Such is life!

Some nights I sucked, didn’t want to be there… some nights I was on fire, didn’t want it to end… I had a ton of fun, even if it didn’t feel like it all the time. I also got to head into Amsterdam a couple of times which was wonderful, it’s possibly my favourite European city and I’ve spent so many hours wandering around the canals and streets.

There’s a breakfast café very near the station which always – ALWAYS! – has a queue of about 10-15 people waiting to get in. It’s called Omelegg and I’ve always wanted to know what the food is like in there… all the online reviews say it’s incredible… my lifetime quest to find out for myself continueth…

The party band who were onboard were a nice bunch. They were in the lamentable – but not uncommon – position of joining the ship with a guitarist who was young, naïve and completely unprepared for the contract. However, he was a nice, well-meaning guy and the others didn’t seem to be willing to cuss him out: they were kind of hand-holding him through the contract. Bless.

Bands are responsible for making sure they know what they are doing, are rehearsed, etc. and apparently this kid had known for a year that he was doing it. Sounds like his reasoning was as follows (taken from ad verbatim quotes from the band):

· I’m the best guitarist at my university

· I can play anything and I can sing a bit

· I should be able to figure out / jam along to whatever the band play

I was torn: between admiring the sheer, bare-faced audacity of naïve youth and gobbling popcorn at the eye-widening, car-crash drama of it all. I managed to catch a few of their songs – when our set-times overlapped a little – and it was, indeed, painful to witness.

I wish I could say that I hadn’t been there before, in his shoes (albeit under slightly different circumstances), but I had. All I can say is that if you survive a baptism of fire like that and STILL want to pursue it as a career, you’ve already displayed enough courage and determination/perseverance to almost guarantee some level of success. It is being right at the bottom of a very steep, painful learning curve.

I also loved my Ibanez jazzy hollow-body guitar on this contract, too. I bought it in Hong Kong a few years back (the Tom Lee store there is incredible: an Aladdin’s cave of guitar goodness) and hadn’t really touched it since. I wasn’t sure if the contract would stipulate ‘acoustic-only’ – but that was me being overly cautious. Not only does it sound great – that oaky, woody, jazzy sound you’d expect from that style of guitar – but it plays so much more easily than anything else I own.

And, because you guys are always most interested in the tragic, nerve-wracking, up-and-down drama of my life as a musician, I’ll fill you in on current events.

I’d been lining up a contract for later in the year, back onboard the last cruise ship where we did the acoustic duo gig. This time as the party band, which – although fraught with its own logistical challenges – was at least a contract on the table. Indeed, I had digitally signed and returned it and was relieved to have another 5 months of work booked in to keep my head afloat.

However, the delightful and immensely-talented LT had previously – and both I and the drummer were loosely aware of this – auditioned for a cruise line which paid nearly twice the money for not quite half the work, but certainly a much more agreeable working environment.

So, it was with a sense of dread and doom that we read her message saying that she had been offered a contract with this other cruise line and we weren’t going to be able to tag along. We weren’t going to do the contract without her and we all knew that she was destined for greater things than earning minimum wage with no days off for five months.

So, here I am under fairly intense financial pressures and no work on the horizon. It’s all very Inside Llewyn Davis, which pleases and disgusts me in equal measures. On the plus side, in my attempts to get some sort of a side-gig going, I’ve done some work as an extra on a major Netflix production which was being filmed in Wales. It’ll be out later this year, I’m hoping to get some screen time – it’ll be something to laugh about with my family.

So yeah, there’s the update. I may leave it as long again to allow enough to occur to make it a riveting read… but then I don’t have much on at the moment and may end up publishing frequently as a means to pass the time…

*salutes*

#music #musician #guitar

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pixiealtaira · 6 years ago

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Dragged Kicking and Screaming ( 16/ 22)

Title: Dragged Kicking and Screaming

Or How Burt Hummel Mashed the Hummels and Hudsons Into One Functioning Family.

Characters(s): Kurt, Burt, Carole, Finn, with short appearances by the New Directions guys and various ops who mostly take up space. Rating: PG13 Summary: Somehow the Hummel household and the Hudson household had to come together…

Chapter Nine Chapter Ten

Chapter eleven Chapter twelve Chapter thirteen Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

16.

“Mom said this coming year, now that you guys got married, that we’d buy fireworks and I could light off our own….good ones, too. You know those that have multiple rounds to them and go way high and are loud and everyone in the neighborhood could see.” Finn said.

“No.” Burt said.

“But we can afford them.” Finn said.

“No.” Burt said. “I don’t know if you are aware of this, Finn, but they are illegal within city limits and 9 times out of 10 are banned outside city limits due to the dryness and heat and fire risk.”

“So?” Finn said.

Burt looked at Carole, who shrugged.

“So, we do not to do illegal things in this household. That is one of the reasons we are having a nice long chat about you driving anything soon and your apparent drinking problems. Now…do you and your mom have any traditions that you do for the Fourth of July?”

Finn shrugged. Burt turned to Carole.

“We’ve been going to Bobby’s but Finn hasn’t been happy with that since he was banned from playing with fireworks there after he set his cousin’s hair on fire a few years ago. None of the kids are allowed near the fireworks anymore, that was a rough year, but really Bobby over reacted. Finn didn’t mean to set Mandy’s hair on fire and Molly did not mean to hit Rex with the sparkler and I am certain Jamie didn’t mean to light his mom’s flower bed on fire either. Granted I do think Gabe and Matty did mean to start something on fire but I don’t think they thought the shed would burn like it did and light all the extra fireworks Bobby had stored away for their Christmas Day fireworks. Luckily Daddy was friends with the fire chief and the mayor and so they didn’t end up having to pay for the fire department response. ”

Burt just stared.

“What?” Carole said. Burt was getting annoyed with the whole ‘don’t you dare think I’ve done something wrong’ face he’d been watching her pull all morning.

“Ok. I think that perhaps we should stay here in Lima and enjoy the festivities here. We can watch the fireworks display and go see the car show and enjoy whatever is playing on the stage.” Burt said.

“Isn’t that hosted by like…rivals?” Carole asked.

Burt rolled his eyes. “It is a community thing and I like supporting the community, Carole.”

“Well, I still think we should just have a big party here and do our own fireworks. Finn wants to set them off so badly.”

“No.”

“I promised him fireworks, Burt.” Carole said.

“No. Not at my house. Not driving anywhere in cars that I cover insurance wise. Not attached to my name.”

“Burt…”

“No. Kurt make a page for back to school and labor day and Halloween.”

“What should I put down on the 4th? Kurt asked.

“Nothing right now.”

“Well, what do you do for the 4th?” Carole said.

“Until this last summer, we had a float in Findley’s parade and then booths at the town celebrations of various places around us. Kurt and I would man one, Jake and his wife another, Wade and someone would take one, and Robbie and several friends would do one. Hank is always in Alaska for the fourth of July. Then we would come back into town and go to the car show…sometimes we would bring something we were restoring to it. Then we would come here and barbecue something for dinner and then go watch the fireworks. However, this past summer we didn’t get any of it organized and Jake and Robbie couldn’t do anything anyway, so we just didn’t. Kurt and I went to dinner at Wade’s and watched the fireworks.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad. I’m sure you made a great deal of money at your booths and that is always good.” Carole said. “Maybe we should do that next year too. You and I could do the booth instead.”

“It would be fun, but I didn’t think it would be something you like,” Burt said.

“Why not? What did you sell? I mean, I will not sell cotton candy or baked goods I have to make, but icy treats would be fine I guess…at least if it was just one day. And I don’t like manning a grill but if I had to I guess I could do hotdogs or something.”

“We didn’t sell things, Carole. We ran a children’s games booth. We did a duck pond and a fishing booth, usually.”

“You at least made money off it, right?” Carole asked.

Burt looked to Kurt, who shrugged and made a so-so motion with his hands.

“Look, we buy about a thousand bucks worth of little toys…bouncy balls, bracelets, crayon sets, stickers, hats, stuffed animals, hackie sacks, yoyos, hair ribbons…little things and spend about 600 bucks on candies to be used a prizes and thrown at the parade. We split them between the different booths and games and then we run the booths until it’s time to head out and back here for the car show or we run out. We charge 25 cents to play both games. Sometimes we add a soda toss. We have fun and sometimes we get new customers.”

“Why would you do that?” Carole asked.

“It gives to the communities and we have fun. It gives more options for families at the different July 4th gatherings. Finally, it is great business.”

“People let Kurt around little kids?” Finn asked.

“And that is the type of comment that Finn will have to pay into the sass jar for making, as well as pure sass.” Burt said. “And that also might get him grounded.”

“Mom!”

“By my calculations we end up with about six to ten new loyal customers after each Fourth of July Celebration we sent people to.” Kurt said. “We usually do not make money on that day, though.”

Carole shook her head. “I take it back. I don’t think we should do that next 4th of July. I just don’t understand why you do these things, Burt.”

“What things?”

“Those stupid boxes at the shop, this July 4th thing, that whole charity shopping thing you want us to do…it’s just ridiculous.” Carole said. “I just don’t see the point.”

“To help out those in the community that are less fortunate than we are?” Kurt said.

“But we don’t have the money to do that!” Carole snapped.

Kurt glared at Carole and Burt decided to let Kurt speak.

“Carole, when was the last time you went hungry because you did not have food and had no money to get it?” Kurt asked.

“Umm…” Carole stammered.

“Finn, can you remember a time when you were so poor you did not have food? Not when your mom worked long hours to provide you with it, but where even with that you had none?” Kurt asked.

Finn shook his head.

“Carole, were you ever at any point in time without a job and unable to provide for Finn and yourself?”

“Well, when we first moved here after Finn’s dad died and I hadn’t started my job yet…”

“So, your job moved you here? You had a job?”

“Yeessss.”

“And at no time were you out of it?” Kurt asked.

“I changed jobs since then.” Carole said.

“But were you without a job or did you have the next one lined up?”

“I had it lined up.” Carole said quietly.

“How many did years did Finn qualify for free or reduced lunch?” Kurt asked.

“None. I always made too much and it is just Finn and I.” Carole said.

“How many birthdays did Finn not get anything because you could not afford it?”

“None.”

“Christmases?” Kurt asked.

“None.”

“How many times did he start back to school without new clothing? Or any supplies?”

“Never. Ok! But it was never a lot, it wasn’t what we deserved. We aren��t rich!” Carole snapped.

“Then you have plenty of money to give some to others every once in a while…I never said you were rich.” Kurt said. “Sure, you might not have the best of everything but you never went without, so you have enough to spare every once in a while. We aren’t talking about going out and giving to people every single day of the year. We aren’t talking about always covering everything ourselves. We allow others in the community who would like to help out to do so…even if all they can give is a few coins or a few cans of food or a coat their kid outgrew. It allows us to help in our community, to be a part of it. By the way, we also put together 15 to 20 backpacks worth of school supplies and donate them in August and do Angel Tree gifts as well before Christmas. Dad will call about those on Friday and we’ll go shopping this Saturday. So…nothing written under July Fourth yet, and we are to Back-To-School.”

“That is not a holiday.” Finn said.

“No, but it might involve traditions. What do you do to mark the end of summer and start of the school year?” Burt asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you have an end of summer party? Do you do back to school shopping?” Burt asked.

Kurt sighed. “For example, Finn, my dad buys me one whole new outfit, minus the shoes, which he finds acceptable to be seen in Yearbook photos. It isn’t part of my clothing money. That is all the ‘Back to school’ clothes I get because I have such a nice clothing budget. Well…except those purchases he mention earlier, like underwear and socks. We also go and get all the stuff I need school supply wise…doubled. That way we get it on sale for the next semester as well. Dad usually takes me someplace the week before school starts…his choice, so that generally means camping or fishing or such. And we go to the state fair and the county fair. Oh…and we do the backpacks.”

“Oh…umm…mom puts a pile of clothes on my bed and I’ve held end of summer parties since I was like 11 or 12. The first was before Junior High. It’s just a party party…music, food, whatever…you know. The last few years mom went out so we could have lot of real fun, you know.” Finn said.

“Yeah, again, not happening,” Burt said.

“I usually take him shopping once and we try on stuff…or I get his size from his uniform orders.” Carole explained. “Finn doesn’t like shopping that much.”

“I do…for fun stuff, but clothes are boring.” Finn said. “On the day she makes me try stuff on she also gets me a new game or movie or something like that. This fall I got a new phone, too.”

“So…If you have a party it will be supervised and reasonable,” Burt said. “However it is an option under those conditions. We will buy one school outfit and supplies…no bribes. I think if we are smart Finn won’t need a pile of new clothes set out for him anyway, because we’ll have done that shopping every month so it won’t be a necessity.”

“Yes he will,” Carole answered. “He can’t wear his summer clothes to school. He’ll need new clothing.”

“Kurt always has new school clothes.” Finn said.

“Kurt spends his 100 for August on school clothing and has a job which allows him to buy what he needs. Kurt also shops for clothing year round and saves stuff.” Kurt answered. “He also doesn’t just buy summer clothes with his summer money.”

“Don’t do that, it is disturbing.” Carole said.

“I generally buy his jacket and gym type shoes right before school.” Burt said. “And I listed other things bought at school time. I just don’t see why anyone needs to spend hundreds of bucks on clothing at one time when they could spread it out.”

“He has to spend all that money earlier on summer clothes.” Carole said.

“Carole, you are making it sound like Finn has more clothing than Kurt. If he is spending upwards of two hundred bucks on t-shirts and shorts alone, he needs to shop elsewhere.”

“Well, to be fair he probably does own more summer clothing than I do.” Kurt said. “I only buy a few pairs of shorts and a few t-shirts for summer and one nice outfit in case it is needed. I work so much that I am mostly in uniform.”

“How much does he work, Burt?” Carole asked. “How much goes to paying Kurt?”

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Carole, Kurt is an employee, just like the rest. He gets regular hours which depend on the season and he gets a regular paycheck. The only thing that is a bit different from his paycheck versus say… Robbie’s…is that his benefits are a bit different because he is a minor and falls under my healthcare stuff. He gets paid different for his hours towards certifications than his non-certification hours as well.”

“He should just work for free.” Carole said.

“The Union does not think so.”

“Well, Finn had better get twice Kurt’s pay when he starts working there. After all he is bigger and so can do more.”

“Finn gets less than half Kurt’s pay until he is certified and joins the union.” Burt said.

“You can’t do that!”

“Carole, I know we went over this when I hired Finn and Puck so they could pay for the replacement of those tires they slashed. Workers who are not certified are limited in what they can legally do. IF Finn wants to apprentice and learn all he needs to know for certification…the pay changes while he is doing so. It changes again when he is certified. Until then…he gets what he gets and gets to do what he can legally do. Pay is skill level and certification and union based. Of course, Finn stopped coming by as soon as he’d worked the hours needed to pay those tires off…even though he was offered time to work still.”

“Working was cutting into his free time and the time he could spend with his friends.” Carole replied. “He shouldn’t have to work so much as a kid.”

“He was working two hours a week.” Burt said.

“He had to cancel a date!”

“At 10am?” Burt said.

“No, in the evening, but he had to go hang with the guys instead of go out on his date because he missed going off with the guys earlier.”

“Seriously?” Burt asked. “That is ridiculous.”

#glee fanfic #burt hummel #Kurt Hummel #hummel household

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karisworld77 · 4 years ago

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Beginner Tomato Gardening

Kitchen Garden Plants: Vegetables

The ultimate growing system: the earthbox® gardening system! a great value—you name it, you can grow it! poor soil conditions and small backyards are no match for this patented container gardening system. Developed by commercial farmers and proven in the lab and on the farm, you get “great results no matter what color your thumb is,” because this maintenance-free growing system controls soil conditions, eliminates guesswork, and more than doubles the yield of a conventional garden—with less fertilizer, less water, and virtually no effort.

Just add plants, water, and sunlight for an easy garden that requires no digging, no weeding, and no guesswork! grow tomatoes and other robust vegetables and aromatic herbs in any small space—a balcony, patio, or even rooftops! this revolutionary sip (sub-irrigated planter) is even ideal for urban garden settings since its compact size allows you to grow healthy, fresh—even organic! —food where it never grew before! unlike other raised bed gardens and planters, the earthbox® gardening system is self-watering, sustainable, easily moveable and portable, and can even be used to grow indoors. Now that’s one smart garden!.

Just like any other gardening methods for vegetables, watering plays an important role. If you water your tomato plants inconsistently, the blossom end may start to dry off and rot. However, when your tomato plants are nearing their harvest season, you should reduce the amount of watering so that the harvested tomatoes will be sweeter as they concentrate their sugar in the fruits. Watering too much at this stage may cause the fruits to drop way before they are ripe.

Growing tomatoes is a great way for floridians to start growing vegetables. No matter which part of the state you live in, you'll benefit from either long or multiple growing seasons for this hearty kitchen staple. Plus, learn how to grow tomatoes from seed or young plants and you'll be armed with knowledge that you can apply to the rest of your garden. Either way, you'll be amazed by how many different varieties there are to choose from, including heirloom, beefsteak, cherry, and paste-style tomatoes.

Tomato die fro the bottom up

Tomatoes are susceptible to some natural enemies. The best prevention is vigilance since some of these maladies can devastate your plants pretty rapidly. Cutworms are larvae that hide in the plant bed by day and feed on leaves and stems by night.

If you see moths, you'll likely see cutworms soon. Look in the soil around the plants for worms that are 1 to 2 inches long with stripes or spots (depending on the type). One possible prevention method is to use a barrier. Cut the bottom from an empty plastic container (such as a yogurt container), and place it around the tomato stems when planting. Make sure it's at least 2 inches above the ground to keep the pests out.

Use a large pot or container with drainage holes in the bottom. Use loose, well-draining soil. We recommend a good potting mix with added organic matter. Plant one tomato plant per pot. Choose from bush or dwarf varieties; many cherry tomatoes grow well in pots. Taller varieties may need to be staked. Place the pot in a sunny spot with 6 to 8 hours of full sun a day.

Fill a clean glass jar with room temperature water and set it in a warm place such as a sunny window sill. Remove the bottom sets of leaves from the base of each cutting, leaving the top 4 to 6 leaves, and set it in the water. In about 1-2 weeks, you will see new roots coming out, and these newly propagated tomato plants are ready for transplanting into the garden, or in a pot.

To save seeds from open-pollinated varieties, allow perfect fruits to ripen until they become soft. Cut them in half and squeeze the gel and seeds into a small jar. Cover with 3 inches of water, and shake well. Allow the mixture to sit at room temperature for 24 hours before pouring out the liquid. Rinse the big seeds at the bottom of the jar in a strainer, and then dry them on a paper plate for about two weeks (write the variety name on the plate). If handled this way and given cool, dry storage conditions, tomato seeds usually stay viable for four to six years.

The tomato (solanum lycopersicum) is a fruit from the nightshade family native to south america. Despite botanically being a fruit, it’s generally eaten and prepared like a vegetable. Tomatoes are the major dietary source of the antioxidant lycopene, which has been linked to many health benefits, including reduced risk of heart disease and cancer.

For gardens, you should water tomatoes until the soil feels dry one inch below the surface. For pots, water your tomatoes until water runs from the bottom. And water the plants at the base only: "foliage diseases will not be as severe if the foliage is kept as dry as possible," says lehoullier.

Fully grown plant and tomatoes

When to harvest vegetables (broken link) native to the americas, tomatoes were introduced into the gardens of europe in the 1500s, but people considered them poisonous and grew them only as ornamentals. Tomatoes were reintroduced into american gardens in the late 1700s but did not become popular as edible vegetables until about 1850. Gardeners immigrating from overseas often bring a few seeds of precious varieties grown by their families in the old country. Even gardeners visiting italy or greece are tempted to remove a few seeds from a salad tomato and secret them away to be planted when they arrive home. (this isn’t a good idea, however, because they may introduce a disease or insect that could destroy tomatoes here. ).

Tomatoes can be and are grown in all soil conditions -- but is there an optimum soil for tomatoes? yes, actually there is! researchers have discovered that for consistent, successful tomato growing, you do want to pay close attention to your tomato soil. It's important because good soil helps to grow healthier tomato plants -- and healthier plants lead to better.

Harvest tomatoes frequently so the plant can redirect energy to growing and ripening more fruit. Once your tomatoes begin ripening, check the plants each day and pick those that are almost ready, and let them ripen fully indoors. We dream of vine-ripened tomatoes, but the reality is, the longer the fruit remains on the vine, the more susceptible it is to pest damage and spoiling. Luckily, tomatoes continue to mature off the vine and will have the same flavor as one that ripens on the plant.

Choose a location in your garden where you have not grown tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, eggplants and tomatillos for the past three or four years. Crop rotation and sanitation are very important. Allow two to three feet in all directions between vining plants. You can set bush-type plants closer together.

Where space is limited or conditions are not suitable for tomato culture, tomatoes may be grown in containers. Although any large container will work as long as it provides adequate drainage; a general recommendation is to plant one tomato plant per four or five-gallon container. Grow containerized tomatoes in artificial potting mix; do not use regular garden topsoil or homemade compost. Pay special attention to water and fertilizer needs, as container-grown tomato plants have no access to the deep soil reservoir of water and nutrients. Most containerized tomato varieties require a stake, trellis or other support.

If you want a bumper crop of tomatoes, you’re going to need a good tomato fertilizer. But the best forms of fertilizer may not be readily apparent. Tomatoes are heavy feeders, and they’ll want all kinds of stuff to promote both plant and fruit growth. So to clear up all this confusion, i’m going to offer you solutions for your tomato fertilizer dilemma. We’ll go over how best to prepare the soil prior to planting. I’ll explain how to minimize your chances of blossom end rot and other related problems. And hopefully by the time you’re done reading, you’ll have every piece of information necessary to grow a an abundance of “love apples”.

Reply to your question regarding your tomato plant

youtube

By lynn byczynski this article originally appeared in the march 2011 issue of growing for market, the magazine for market farmers. Please join us; gfm is available by mail or online. Click here for subscription options. This promises to be the year that tomato grafting reaches the mainstream, with the options for rootstocks increasing and some companies selling grafted plants. Grafting vegetables is nothing new — it’s been practiced in asia since the 1920s — but it’s still relatively uncommon in the united states. Growing for market published an article about grafting in 2008, and we have been watching interest grow quickly. But there still are many growers who question its value, given the fact that seeds for the tomato rootstock cost as much as 44 cents each.

Do you grow tomatoes? we have research-based information about planting tomatoes and disease management. Check out the videos, tips, and fact sheets below. Download our tomato faq handout for answers to common questions.

It's a common question for our plant information service , and there are many reasons a tomato plant might underperform, but by taking some precautions when planting, you can help ensure a healthy plant and a robust harvest. 1. Tomatoes need sun—not partial sun or dappled shade, but 6 to 8 hours of full, bright sunlight per day. You have got to plant in full sun! leafy plants that produce large fruit need light. Remember, the amount of flowers (and, therefore, fruit) produced is directly correlated to the amount of sunlight received. If your plants last year looked "leggy" and sparse, or even grew full foliage—but no tomatoes—you will want to reconsider your location. Don't forget that tomatoes grow well in pots, so if you do not have an optimal in-ground or raised bed location, you can plant in pots and place them in a sunny location.

Q: i have received quite a few questions about tomatoes and tomato problems. Plant problems can be classified as either biotic (caused by living organisms) or abiotic (caused by growing conditions). This week i will cover abiotic plant problems and next week i will discuss some common diseases that affect tomatoes.

Question: i have a pot which allows me to water my tomatoes from the bottom. The soil tends always to be damp. How do i know it’s not too wet? answer: if you have a pot that allows you to water from the bottom, i assume you have a tray that holds your pot and that it has drainage holes at the bottom? if this is the case, you can not over water because the soil will only absorb water until it is wet and not completely saturated (diffusion). But, i would not want my soil to be completely damp, because i would rather have my tomato plants grow roots deep into the pot in search of water so that they have a strong foundation and don't fall over when they begin fruiting. More importantly, the more the roots spread, the more nutrients they can absorb.

To pinch or not to pinch, that is the question. Most gardeners remove some of the suckers that form between the main stalk and the side branches during the early growth of their plants. But just how much should you prune them, if at all? pruned plants bear earlier and have larger tomatoes, but they also have fewer of them. Overpruning can cause sunscald—a yellow sunburned patch that eventually blisters. Unpruned plants yield about twice as much fruit as pruned ones do, but it will take longer for the fruit to ripen.

My plants grow, but arent producing fruit.

All tomato plants are identified as either determinate or indeterminate varieties. Determinate tomato plants grow to a predetermined final height, whereas indeterminate types will continue to grow until killed by frost. As a result, the latter can sprawl and become unwieldy. Determinate varieties, on the other hand, are perfectly suited for container growing. Their shorter, more compact shape requires less support and care while still producing high yields of fruit. Determinate cultivars that are good choices for container gardens include “better bush hybrid,” “celebrity” and “sprite. ”.

What the heck is “tomato suckering”? as tomato plants grow, they’ll produce a branch and a “sucker” between the stem and the branch. The sucker grows like a new stem, producing new branches and suckers along the way. A closer look at tomato suckers via tyrantfarms. Many people tell you that you have to remove the suckers to reduce plant diseases and get the biggest fruit from your tomato plant. The idea being that more air can flow through your plants and the plant will put more energy into fewer fruits.

Burpee covers tomato seeds and plants new jersey agricultural experiment station covers tomato varieties.

Tomato plants are almost always set out in the garden as transplants. It takes 6-8 weeks to grow a 4 to 6 inch transplant. Sow the seeds in flats with burpee tomato formula soil mix, covering them with 1/4 inch of mix. Water the flat in carefully (some gardeners soak the flat in a tray of water).

Burpee tomato plants are the easy way to grow all your favorite and new tomatoes. We do all the growing for you and deliver healthy, vigorous plants at just the right time for planting in your region.

Tomato seeds are almost always germinated indoors, either in greenhouses, under grow lights, or simply on a sunny window ledge. Some people choose to speed up germination by placing heat mats at the bottom of the container bearing the seeds. This certainly helps, but it is not necessary. Most of your vegetable plants do not need to be started indoors, but tomato seeds are delicate and require a constant soil temperature between 70–80 degrees fahrenheit to germinate. They therefore need to be started indoors in many parts of the globe. Germinating indoors also prevents the young seedlings from being eaten by slugs or other creatures in your garden.

#tomatoes #tomato #plants #plant #soil

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janiedean · 7 years ago

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I never thought I'd be this person but I legit said"what hetero nonsense is this" when Rose said love and kissed Finn lol

okay anon this is not against you and I know you didn’t mean this seriously and I know this reply might be overreacting, and you probably didn’t see that I previously posted about hating how this fandom (especially *my* subfandom technically) is reacting to finnrose so you probably didn’t know, but: no.

specifically:

it wasn’t random nor nonsense. she had a fangirl crush on him, she got to know him better and she liked him and she thought she was about to bloody die. if I was in her place I also would kiss the guy I like if anything to know I’ve done it.

on the other side, he needed to talk to someone he didn’t know already and to show him a different side of things and who made him realize that the resistance was more than single people he might have cared for or not going against the big bad evil, which was what made him finally stop running. he didn’t kiss her back but it’s nice that he gets it from someone who likes him genuinely, especially coming after a life of dehumanization.

so it wasn’t nonsense, it was a plot decision you can like or not but saying it was out of left field or made no sense or was nonsensical is not a thing I can agree with because imo it was very well-developed and like in a life or death situation I would probably try to kiss the guy I liked, and rose liking finn was already introduced from the moment she showed up and then she just got to like him as the person he was rather than the supposed *legend* or whatever, which... is... nice. it’s normal. it happens. why the hell should it be nonsensical?

ah, because it was heteronormative and apparently if het ships happen it’s bad because they’re heterosexual, which is like, typical tumblr drivel and sorry but nah.

(now, before I go into it: if it had been rey kissing finn, would people be crying about heteronormative nonsense? idk. just a thought. and guess what, for me finn/rey is like, the most platonic shit in existence and I can’t see the two of them kissing romantically and it making any sense so we all see it differently, but if it had happened I’d have shrugged and moved on with my life. anyway.)

listen, guys, let’s be freaking real, as much as tumblr likes to think the contrary, straight/heterosexual people make up 90% of the demographic. heteronormativity is normativity because nine people on ten are straight. the problem is when heteronormativity is seen as the only default. the point is that if you want to counteract that you have to push to normalize relationships that are not heteronormative and make sure they’re seen as a valid alternative to the norm, but you can’t honestly go and say that heteronormativity is in itself statistically wrong because it’s not, nor that it’s in itself inherently wrong because then you pass the message that if you’re straight you’re *wrong* and honestly from a website where the message that people think they’re passing is that *you aren’t -wrong- for your sexuality I’m really tired to see that it’s valid for everything except straight people. because it’s really fun to go online and wade through posts on posts of people joking about how if you’re straight you’re Bad, you have no tastes, you’re not a good lay if you’re a man and should date women anyway if you’re a woman and everything bad in the world is the fault of you horrible straight person and ah, wait, being straight is also boring and who would choose to be straight -

except that you don’t choose your sexuality. no, I didn’t choose mine either. (yes, I’m straight if it wasn’t clear, and I’m getting progressively pissed off at this attitude. actually I’ve gone past the point of pissed off, but never mind that.

so like, now apparently if a heterosexual ship happens it’s all because they wanted to cater to the straight crowd and it’s all nonsense just because it’s a man and a woman locking lips!

and like, fuck, no. this idea that finnrose is inherently nonsense because it’s *heteronormative* and they pushed finn on a WOMAN THAT’S NOT REY is.... sorry, I know you didn’t mean it like that and I don’t wanna sound like an asshole, but if you say that rey would have been cool and rose isn’t then WHY, I mean isn’t rose okay enough? good enough? I mean I’ve read some stuff on *my ship’s* tag which was reeking racism because rose was apparently a downgrade and rey was the only option they could accept *if finn had to be with a woman* and honestly, no?? that’s... like... no??? I find it really rich coming from people who ship... a pairing.... made of nonwhite people.... at least for US standards (yeah I ship finn/poe mainly and this movie has made me block half of the tag for the finnrose vitriol IMAGINE HOW NICE). and IT ONLY HAPPENED SO THEY COULD CANCEL THE GAY COUPLE is like... a) it wasn’t gonna happen in the MIDDLE movie anyway esp. a franchise that gets distributed in countries where the gay couple would mean a ban/the movie not getting released (like, we do remember the beauty and the beat wank over damned lefou for what, ten seconds of him dancing with a dude??), b) means that finn’s sl would have had any worth just if he and poe made out (and same for poe) which basically means reducing their storylines to them making out? like, that’s... really.... sad? they only have worth as characters if they make out? sorry, I can’t really rally behind that. I care about them as characters and I loved their sl this movie and if they don’t kiss WHATEVER, 99% of the m/m couples I shipped in my life stayed not canon and it never changed my life, even if they were in relationships with women. that’s why fanfic exists. maybe next movie we’re getting it (because anyway rose kissed finn, he didn’t kiss back or anything so it can go there or it can’t and whichever way it goes I’m okay with it) maybe we’re not, but saying that their existence is useless if they don’t kiss or bang or aren’t *gay* just reeks of tokenism to me and the fact that finnrose is being described as heteronormative bullshit made to appease the r/eylo people or to deny people finn/poe is really not a thing I can rally behind either.

like, again, there’s nothing NONSENSE behind it and the fact that you attached heteronormative to it again means that the problem with it is that it’s an heterosexual ship and given that it had all reasons for existing and that, again, I’m really fucking tired of every straight relationship in new media getting thrown at the wolves just because it’s straight and being straight on tumblr is Very Bad TM so... sorry. it’s not. and like, if according to you it was just *nonsense* fine, you didn’t like it, legit, but heteronormative nonsense? really? can we just.... not... frame it as if anything heteronormative or heterosexual or straight is The Worst especially since on top of that finnrose is actually pretty progressive as a thing? I mean, when was the last time you saw a main black lead in an immensely popular scifi franchise that everyone and their kids watch in a relationship with an asian woman? never. like, it’s progressive, too, not the same way finn/poe is but progressive nonetheless, so... like... can’t we just let this goddamned ship live and be the cute thing it was without splitting hairs?

because sorry but again the fact that the main objections I’ve seen were a) IT’S STRAIGHT AND NOT GAY, b) he’s kissing rose and not rey IF WE HAD TO HAVE A STRAIGHT SHIP, c) IT’S PROREYLO AND ANTISTORMPILOT which.... uuughhh. like, can’t y’all take things the way they are? (nvm that I could rant for three hours about how r*ylo was like, written to happen and the fact that people don’t want to recognize that a villain has a personality is another entire problem but never mind.) it’s a cute ship. it happens to be straight. it’s also fairly progressive in itself. it was put on a good (imo) storyline which made sense and everything poor rose did was kissing the dude she liked after saving his life and thinking she was about to die. lay off her, pls?

last thing: since - we all guessed it by now - I happen to be straight can... y’all... please... not send me asks about how shitty heteronormative ships are and the likes? I mean, I know it’s a problem in a lot of cases and I’m more than willing to call it out if it’s obviously done maliciously but this wasn’t the case and I’m honestly tired of this STRAIGHTS ARE TERRIBLE drivel and HETERONORMATIVITY IS INHERENTLY BAD drivel and so on. especially when it’s about a thing I don’t actively ship but liked (finnrose) and then I have to go into my ship’s tag (f/p) and see it trashed to hell and back and read posts over posts about how they fucked up f/p for THE STRAIGHTS when I’d be the first person to offer the entire cinema a beer if it actually was canon. like, I’d be overjoyed if it was. but not at the cost of being assholes to other people who ship other things or at the cost of trashing on this movie for things that don’t exist or deny both of those two’s character arcs because at the end of it THEY AREN’T GAY. (as if they couldn’t be bi or pan, but of course anything that implies that someone could be in a rship with someone of the different sex is okay just as long as the relationship isn’t with someone of a different sex. like. please guys. no.)

last thing: don’t take this rant personally anon I’m sure you meant well, but you just touched on a thing that is really irking me lately and my hand slipped. I’m really meaning no ill will I’m just really tired of this HORRIBLE HETERONORMATIVE complaints thrown around like candy because of course everyone has feelings and shouldn’t be insulted except straight people because they are the majority so they can go die in a fire as far as tumblr cares. peace.

#finnrose #i hope it's okay to tag but i've seen some horrid shit tagged FR from people who hate it for dumb reasons so #sw wank #the last jedi for ts #the last jedi spoilers for ts #ch: finn (sw)#ch: rose tico #the last jedi #the last jedi spoilers #jfc I can't anymore like I don't even know how to put it without sounding like an arse #but guys no #like if you send me asks like this idk what answer you'll expect to receive #but not 'ikr'#because that's not it #thanks I'm done #Anonymous #ask post

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imrainai · 7 years ago

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OOC Message Log: Imrainai & Staringtowardthestars

Imrainai: how did you even come to the conclusion that we need more stringently divided castes

Imrainai: I feel like if I understood this better I could better communicate why it is such an Awful Idea for people in my position

Imrainai: uh. you don't have to answer I guess. no pressure if you're busy

Staringtowardthestars: Oh, sorry, I only just saw this message.

Staringtowardthestars: The first thing that led me to that conclusion is that I noticed ways in which many castes have careers that use radically different skill sets. The first place I noticed this was within my own caste -- even ignoring additional ways that it might make sense to subdivide green people, academic and creative workers, although their skills have more overlap than with some jobs have some overlap, also have some very different skills. However, the trend appeared to hold for other castes as well. Since one of the main benefits of the caste system is creating separate groups of people with different axes of skill emphasized, this seemed problematic.

Staringtowardthestars: Measuring green success is complicated because commercially successful creative work and good creative work are not the same, but it's easy to see with, for instance, grey people. If a gymnast marries a runner, their children will tend not to be outstanding in either.

Staringtowardthestars: I then considered other elements of the caste system, and noticed that there were some careers that crossed multiple castes for no apparent reason. For instance, a grey person in your country could be a sex worker, but if they moved to Tapa, that would be considered out-of-caste. While that doesn't necessarily indicate that we should have more divisions, it does indicate that some of the divisions are in the wrong place.

Imrainai: That's because the same career can use multiple skills. Most careers do.

Staringtowardthestars: Was that directed at the first point, or the second?

Imrainai: Uh, specifically at the last one, but I also feel like you're approaching the entire human experience from a completely different angle than... most people

Staringtowardthestars: Every person brings a unique perspective to the Amentan experience! I will grant that it's possible that mine is more different than most, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's wrong.

Imrainai: I specifically feel like the gymnastics-runner example is a bad one because I don't know that there are enough outstanding gymnasts for smaller countries to even support a gymnast caste without inbreeding. But I don't want to get bogged down in that, because that's tangential to my main Problems With This

Imrainai: Though to be clear it is a problem

Staringtowardthestars: Since you don't want to focus on that issue, would you like to elaborate on what your main issues with the system would be?

Staringtowardthestars: (Also, just to be clear, I don't support having a separate caste for literally every occupation. I think that combining occupations that require the same skills and traits would be a good idea, such as gymnastics, diving, acrobatics, and possibly other sports that a grey person would know more about.)

Imrainai: Main Problem Number One is that there are lots of existing jobs which require a person to draw on multiple abilities that are also really useful for other jobs. Jobs are really complicated! You can't optimize for just one thing in most jobs. An orange who teaches grey two-year-olds has to be empathetic enough to help them sort through their feelings, academically inclined enough to teach them what they need to know, and physically capable of keeping up with them. If you have all oranges hyperfocus on empathy, the quality of those teachers will go down, because they won't be as academically inclined or as physically capable. But if you split them into their own tiny little caste, that caste will have very limited options, and anyone who isn't a good fit for that particular occupation will be stuck.

Imrainai: And I think that a lot of jobs are at least a little like this--to do them well, you need lots of abilities, not just one thing you're really really good at.

Staringtowardthestars: It's true that the new caste would have more limited options than orange people now, but that will also reduce the number of people who don't fit their caste very well.

Staringtowardthestars: Splitting up the caste system would actually help with the need for multiple abilities, because it would encourage people who are strong in all the necessary abilities to reproduce with one another and therefore have children with all the necessary abilities.

Imrainai: I don't buy the first claim. I'm not mixed, but when I was a kid I was convinced that I would never be a good purple. The second claim seems wrong in the sense that iirc you don't want to "encourage" people to reproduce with people from the same profession, you want to make it illegal for them to have kids with anyone else.

Imrainai: But see, just because your parents have all the necessary abilities for their profession doesn't mean that you will. It helps, but it's not everything, and not all skills and aptitudes are that innate.

Staringtowardthestars: It helps a lot. Yes, occasionally there will be people who don't have the correct skills for their caste, but those people exist already, and there will be fewer of them. Every system comes with tradeoffs; a tradeoff for my system is that the vast majority of people will be better at their work and fit better into their caste, but a few people end up in a caste that doesn't suit them (which already happens, often because of people having children with others of disparate talents.)

Staringtowardthestars: Also, you seem to be content with being purple now, so probably your previous dissatisfaction was simply a phase. I don't actually know what your parents' careers and skillsets were, but it's possible that if they had been more similar you would have felt like a better purple.

Staringtowardthestars: Additionally, I don't want to make it illegal to have children with people from other professions, I want to make it illegal to have children with people from different (restructured) castes.

Imrainai: I don't think it's accurate to characterize it as "a phase". I didn't realize that I was actually meant to do purple work. I realized that my work didn't have to define me--that it was important that someone do it, but that my life didn't have to hinge on finding one particular profession that I was a really good fit for.

Imrainai: I am trying to put my finger on why your description of how people become good at work is so offputting to me, but I think it's going to take me a bit

Staringtowardthestars: I'm perfectly willing to wait for you to consider why my explanation makes you uncomfortable!

Imrainai: Thank you

Imrainai: I think that part of it ties into the second problem, which is that a lot of purple jobs have pretty low ceilings on how well they can possibly be done?

Imrainai: Like, you want to create people who are optimized for their particular predestined roles in society. But some work can only be done about as well as we're doing it, and the reason it's hard is because employers are always trying to squeeze out just that little more from you, even when it's not a reasonable thing to ask. So when you talk about creating people who are better at their jobs, and I think of, like, my brief stint in retail--I think that if greens got to decide what sort of person would be an ideal retail worker, they would optimize for people who do not know how to complain or take care of themselves or say "this is enough, I am enough, this is all I need to be and I'm not going to give you more, because there is nothing more to be given". And I do not want blues or greens to optimize me or my children for, like, being able to work twelve-hour shifts every day without complaining about it.

Imrainai: My work is important to me, but I don't actually think that I exist solely for the sake of doing work, you know

Imrainai: And if people try to make me or my children better at doing the work that they think I should do, I am scared that they will cut out the parts of me that make the work worthwhile in the first place? So I think that is part of it

Imrainai: to be clear though it is one of many, many problems I have with your plan

Imrainai: also I feel like I'm saying a lot of critical things to you, so I want you to know that I admire the way you're willing to talk to your critics and engage with their concerns. good job on that

Staringtowardthestars: Thank you! I think it's important to listen to people with other views. No one is born correct about everything, and even thinkers whom I greatly esteem were wrong about many things.

Staringtowardthestars: I agree that you don't exist only to do work, but work is really important both to individuals and to the people whom their work affects. The average person spends hundreds of thousands of hours at their job, and it's important that those hours be at jobs they're good at.

Staringtowardthestars: Your concern about seemingly less-skilled labor is understandable, but I think there are purple skills that you don't realize are skills because most of the people you know have them. For instance, I would not make a very good retail worker, because there are hard-to-describe retail-work skills that I don't have, many of which are generalizable to many other purple jobs..

Staringtowardthestars: If I somehow became the Supreme Dictator of the Islands of Jakav and Eleseo (to be clear, such a position does not exist) and it was impossible to transfer the position to a blue person, I would make sure to include voices from all current castes in the redesigned caste system, because I don't understand the work or skills of other castes as well as they do.

Imrainai: I think that's a good place to start, but at the same time retail is awful and I've met like four people in my life who actually enjoyed it

Imrainai: Also most of the people I know aren't purple? I know lots of people

Imrainai: I mean maybe 51% of them are purple, but not much more than that

Imrainai: I guess I just feel like you are not appreciating the extent to which a lot of necessary work is... not like theology

Imrainai: In the sense that some jobs are like... almost nobody actually likes them

Imrainai: I also don't even know where you would sort me, which makes this whole thing weirder

Imrainai: I can't even imagine a hypothetical life under your system because I don't know what caste you would declare me to be?

Imrainai: It seems... very disconnected from my understanding of how life is, I guess

Staringtowardthestars: I think that there are probably people that are better-suited to unpleasant jobs even if those jobs require literally nothing except tolerance of poor work conditions and boredom, and people who are worse-suited to unpleasant jobs, and even if it isn't heritable it's socializable. I doubt that most of the green people you encounter would survive as retail workers, although it's possible that the cultural differences between the Island of Jakav and Voa or the Island of Jakav and the Arctic render that untrue.

Staringtowardthestars: I don't have a conclusive enough sense of where the line ought to be between different purple jobs to adequately sort you.

Imrainai: Do you understand why I might be wary of people saying that they want to breed my children to be more tolerant of poor work conditions, or that they think the main thing I have to be proud of is my supposed tolerance for poor work conditions?

Imrainai: Because I probably DO have some tolerance for poor work conditions that not everyone else has, but it is important to me that people not use this as an excuse to make my work conditions poorer than they have to be, and part of the thing that limits this right now is that I can always theoretically jump ship and become someone who fixes bicycles.

Staringtowardthestars: I understand that, and I don't think that's the only relevant skill, but I do think that given the choice between people with no tolerance for terrible retail-type jobs doing terrible retail-type jobs, and people with a high tolerance for terrible retail-type jobs doing those jobs, the latter is strongly preferable.

Staringtowardthestars: I think that there are some jurisdictions that have rules about work conditions -- obviously, everyone needs to follow public health laws and that sort of thing but some have extra laws that are supposed to protect workers. I don't know how well those laws work.

Imrainai: I mean, I do want you to understand that I wiped out of retail in less than a season

Imrainai: And it's not just public health type things, it's that some yellow comes in and decides to optimize your work process in a way that doesn't actually work, and then people get upset with you for not following it /and/ for not getting the work done when you do follow it. And that customers come in and have weird requests that make no sense. It's lots of little things and the fact that you have no power to fix them.

Imrainai: Also then people come in and make regulations that are supposed to help keep you safe, and you get in trouble for not following them, but then you also get in trouble for following them because it's not possible to follow them and get the work done in time

Imrainai: Anyway this is all pretty tangential to the Point

Imrainai: If I had to work retail then I could survive working retail. I would become less pleasant and more tired and I would like myself less. This is why I am glad that I was able to do lots of other things, not just retail. But as I understand it, you want to create a situation where, if someone is unhappy with their work, all they can do is the exact same thing somewhere else?

Imrainai: And I think that is a bad plan, because when an industry is awful, people should be able to leave it until the industry is forced to be slightly less awful in order to retain its workers.

Imrainai: And I don't even know that I do have a higher inborn tolerance for this sort of work?

Imrainai: Maybe my options were 'don't work and starve' or 'work and be miserable' or 'work and try not to be miserable', and I am doing my level best to take the third even when it is hard, and then I don't think it's right for people to say that actually what I am doing is not difficult because I am somehow uniquely prepared for it?

Imrainai: And I--I mean I do want to be useful and I do think my work is important, and I know you don't mean to be insulting or upsetting, but somehow it still is upsetting when I feel like your thesis is that I should enjoy cleaning up dog turds the way you enjoy studying theology.

Staringtowardthestars: Would you rather that the people cleaning dog feces be miserable?

Staringtowardthestars: Also, if this is upsetting you you don't need to keep talking to me.

imrainai: I would rather that the people cleaning up the dog feces live in a society that understands that they are not uniquely suited to this work, but that someone has to do it, and that they deserve respect and understanding for doing something that is difficult and perhaps not as intrinsically rewarding as certain other careers. I guess.

Imrainai: And it's important to me that I be able to articulate why I find certain things upsetting. I think I am closer now than I was at the beginning of this conversation, so that's good.

Imrainai: Also that if the people cleaning up dog feces are super miserable, they have the option to go do something else that isn't exactly the same.

Staringtowardthestars: I don't think our current system is conducive to granting respect to people doing undesirable work, because it's too easy for people to perceive them as purple people who weren't skilled enough for any other job. Furthermore, affording such people respect and having them be happy don't need to be mutually exclusive -- having people who will hate those jobs less do those jobs doesn't have to mean that those jobs will become less valued.

Imrainai: I feel like the thing that made me OK with being purple was the idea that I had the power to define who I was and what my work meant, and what my contributions to society were going to be. And I kind of feel like you want to take that away and turn every job into retail, which is miserable because people have tried so hard to optimize it, to take the human elements out and make sure that everyone is working in what the people in charge believe is the most efficient way, regardless of the effects it has on the workers. I know that isn't your intention and might not even be what you're suggesting, but it's definitely part of the feeling I get when I read your posts about the caste system.

Imrainai: Anyway, I should sleep so I can go to work tomorrow, but you've given me a lot to chew on, and I hope I've at least said something that was useful to you.

Imrainai: Thanks for taking the time to talk. You seem like a thoughtful person, and I hope that you find your work as fulfilling as you want everyone else's work to be.

Staringtowardthestars: Thank you for sharing your ideas with me. Have a good night.

#ooc #amenta rp #this got really long whoops

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