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star-girl69 · 8 months

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Don’t Delete The Kisses

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

—-

synopsis: after breaking someone’s heart as apart of your initiation into the aphrodite cabin, you don’t think love is meant for you after your cruelty. clarisse thinks you’re ridiculous.

a/n: my friend was talking about how like insane this song makes her and i was like oh so this is genius

Don’t Delete The Kisses - Wolf Alice

warnings: insecure and very sad y/n ☹️, so like yeah all of that stuff, very ooc clarisse but IDC, i hate everyone but you trope fr, more talking about our feelings which we know is very hard for clarisse, the usual mentions of death and weapons, all that demigod stuff, more clarisse wanting, clarisse is insane as always i love her my ladybug fr, swearing, mentions of food, crap ton of violence, broken noses, whole bunch of blood, teeth get knocked out, yeah, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“Well, did you do it?”

You wanted to sneak into the Aphrodite cabin silently, hoping your pink jacket would blend into the walls and hide you. But that was just wishful thinking. That was just something you whispered to yourself on the walk back to comfort your shaking body, wiping away the tears.

This is your initiation. They’re all sitting on their beds, waiting with eager eyes, greedy for a taste of someone else’s suffering, the comfort of knowing it’s not their own.

“Yes,” you say, pretending tears don’t rim your eyes.

You stand stall, shutting the cabin door behind you.

“I did it.”

Your sister Drew stands up and grabs your hand. You think she might comfort you. You think she might tell you Carter was in it all along, you didn’t really hurt him, it was all some elaborate prank.

Instead, she raises your hand up in the air and turns towards the rest of your siblings.

“Y/N!” she says, “Daughter of Aphrodite!”

Your siblings clap and cheer, smiling widely- one of the younger girls runs right up to you and hugs you, face in your stomach.

“You played him so good,” she giggles, pigtails swinging in the air. She is so naïve, so young, so unknowing. You wonder if you can give yourself amnesia if you slam your head into the column holding up the cabin.

You would do anything to forget this night. To forget the look on Carter’s face. He fell in love with you and you let your siblings guide you on what to do, what to say, you let them dress you up and and put pretty bows in your hair that he reached out to touch.

He thought he would end the night with a kiss, but instead he ended the night with your hand in his face, scoffing animatedly and asking “How could he ever think a daughter of Aphrodite could like him?”

You could feel his heart break, and you could feel your mother ghosting around the wind, you could feel the muscles in your face strain as your eyes filled with tears.

You wrap your arms around your younger sister and force yourself to chuckle.

“His face was so funny,” you say, but there was an unintended action to your initiation. Your heart broke too. You saw the look on his face- if that is how losing love feels then you never want to give yourself the chance to lose it.

Besides, it’s not like you could ever deserve love after this. The love your siblings crave but never quite get. True, encompassing, all-consuming love. After this night, after the hatred coiling up in your stomach like a snake, it’s just not meant for you.

—-

Everyone at Camp calls you princess.

It made you feel like a baby, weak, like you were nothing but a pretty face. But no matter how much you flinched at the nickname, grimaced when you found yourself answering to its call, no one stopped.

Your siblings all cooed and said it was so fitting, saying with curled lips that you were most definitely Aphrodite’s favorite. Your hair always fell in the most beautiful way, your makeup always stayed and looked beautiful, you know you can’t walk through camp without someone looking at you.

Especially after your charmspeak developed, you became a shell of yourself, scared constantly like you are just a walking knife, doomed to cut anyone you come near.

You’re not that different from your siblings- the only difference is you won’t ever lead someone on. You won’t ever make anyone thing they have a chance. Because you’ll never break someone’s heart again.

You’re still Aphrodite’s daughter, you still like to look pretty. So, you do your makeup and your hair, you revel in the feelings of eyes on you but you choose your words carefully.

But other than that, you despise love, your mother, everything about the Aphrodite Cabin.

But you suck it up, you let boys fix your posture, let them teach you to fight while they dream of kissing you, and you work silently and you wait to get out of this hellhole Camp.

You stay silent and you let them realize that you’re just simply not interested in a relationship. They’re sad, but their hearts aren’t broken.

Everybody calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently.

Clarisse La Rue is probably the bane of your existence. She’s drop dead gorgeous, you would kill to run your hands through her curls, and she is the most talented person you know in battle. You’re pretty good, after all this silent training and the tips and tricks shared in vain, but she is a force.

She’s the one guilty pleasure you let yourself have. If only because you know she’s too strong to get hurt. So you let yourself look, keep a secret crush tight in your chest- only bursting out when you can’t stand it, and you just have to stare at her and revel in that for a second.

The thing about Clarisse is that she likes you. Which would be fine, you just tried to stay away, but she kept coming back for more and more until it became impossible to ignore her. It’s like you two were just doomed to forever be in love with each other, and you have to live with that and eat it like crow.

It’s not like she outwardly flirts with you. She just says your nickname differently. She caresses the words and says it softer. She doesn’t stare at you like everyone else- she looks at you. It feels amazing, your one guilty pleasure is to revel in her love from far away, but you make it clear that you don’t want a relationship and you never will.

Clarisse seems intent either to ignore that or wait you out. You don’t let her get close enough. You won’t break someone else’s heart.

Everyone calls you princess. You only like it when Clarisse says it.

—-

“Hi, princess.”

You don’t look at him, focusing on tying your shoes instead. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I thought I could help you.”

You finish tying your laces, taking your foot up off of the bench and onto the ground. You grab your sword, hair tied back, tank top and stretchy pants. He looks you up and down. You do the same.

“Uh… Van, right?”

“Funny name so you won’t forget it, huh?” he winks, and you very obviously grimace.

“Ha, yeah.” You set your sights on a dummy currently not being attacked by a sword or spear and take a step forward.

“I noticed,” he starts, arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “That the only weapon you don’t know how to use is the spear.”

You finally look at him. He’s wearing cargo pants and the orange camp t-shirt. His hand is plain and blonde, cut short, and his cheeks seem to be permanently flushed. He’s a son of Ares, pretty good fighter, but nothing else to speak for. Clarisse, at least, is the absolute best at almost everything she does- and she puts in the work to show it.

Van looks like he trains the minimum amount and gets by on his natural abilities as a demigod.

“Okay?” you say, wanting nothing more than to get away from him and go back to training. “I don’t get what you’re saying. And don’t flirt with me, either- one of my siblings would be happy to make out with you in a shed somewhere.”

“I’ll teach you,” he says, slightly exasperated. You finally notice he is, in fact, holding a spear. “Huh?”

You squint at him.

You do have a reputation in this camp. Part of the reason you’re called princess is because you’re standoffish and cold- people mistake it as you thinking you’re better than them. Really, you’re one of the worst people at this camp. You’re saving them from being tainted by association.

But every once in a while, someone will get it in their heads that soulmates do exist, and they’re the right person for you- and you’re mean and you shut them down, but that’s way before they fall in love. It hurts them, but not as much as it hurts you, not as much as it would hurt them if you gave them any ounce of attention.

The only person who keeps coming back for more sticks her spear into the ground next to you, fingers drumming against the wood.

“Van, you look fucking stupid.”

“Clarisse,” Van hisses, glaring at her. She glares right back, unimpressed. “Can you just go? Fuck.”

She raises her eyebrows. His spear hits the dirt before you can even comprehend that Clarisse kicked it out of his hands, and you have to admit- Clarisse is quick. Clarisse is good at what she does.

She pours everything she’s got into training- and pursuing you. You think it might just be a joke at this point, or something she finds fun, been doing it too long that stopping feels wrong. You would be lying if you said it wouldn’t be weird for her to stop. For both of you to stop whatever this is. This silent wanting.

“First of all, you are mediocre with a spear. Second, if Y/N wanted spear lessons she would come to me, right?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, walking away.

“Clarisse,” you can hear Van groan. “She was going to say yes until you ruined it.”

“Bro, she was not going to say yes. You’re welcome for saving your ass from even more embarrassment, Gods.”

“You’re just mad she doesn’t like you after you’ve been pining for years.”

She laughs, loud and boisterously, but there’s an edge to her voice, one of doubt, something like she’s scared.

“Oh, you’re fucking funny,” she says, and you can hear her slapping his shoulder. You stretch, risking a glance over your shoulder- Van is walking off and she’s looking at you.

But when your eyes meet hers, she quickly looks away. And you notice. You notice, but you do nothing about it. The way it’s always meant to be.

—-

The strawberry fields is the most beautiful place at camp. It’s where you feel something for your mother, because while gardening and plants are Demeter’s thing- finding beauty in the way the strawberry sits in your hand, the way the sun turns the sky into purple and oranges, the way the bright green trees stand out against that- it’s all your mother.

You can appreciate beauty here.

You see beauty everywhere, and you see love everywhere, but not the kinds your mother is famous for.

You’ve been picking strawberries for what seems like hours now, but it’s bearable under the setting sun and when you think about how good it will feel to finally sink into your bed.

“Y/N!” someone calls. “Princess!” you roll your eyes but stand up, turning around and putting your hand over your face to protect from the setting sun.

“Yeah?!” you shout back, squinting. You realize you’re alone in the fields.

“We’re heading back!” a Demeter girl, Sasha, says.

Your eyes flick to your basket that will only take a few more minutes to fill up.

“I’ll go back later!”

“Okay!” she shouts back, running off after everyone else.

You crouch back down, taking a deep breath before you begin ruffling through the leaves of the strawberry plant to find the juicy berries. You sneak a few as you work, shuffling down the line of plants. It’s so calm here. There’s no one to hurt. There’s nothing to be scared of.

When you stand up, there’s four figures standing by the shed. You gasp, bringing your hand to your chest, but Clarisse takes off her helmet.

“Princess?” she asks. “What’cha doin’ out here all alone?”

“Collecting strawberries,” you snort, full basket hitting your knees as you walk towards her.

“I see that,” she huffs. You notice Van behind her, and another sister, Carrie, a brother named Matty. “But what are you doin’ out here alone?”

You shrug, coming to a stop in front of the little group of Ares kids.

“Everyone else left.”

“It’s almost dark.”

“Not yet, though,” you smile sarcastically.

Carrie and Matty continue walking after they realize nothing fun is going to happen. You’re not gonna entertain them, so why would they care? But Clarisse and Van stay. You stare at Clarisse for a moment longer before finally looking away.

“You don’t have a weapon,” Van notes. “Smart to be out here alone?”

“Oh, relax,” you sigh. “We’re still in the barrier.”

You tighten your grip on the bucket and turn left, walking towards the shed. Clarisse is hot on your heels.

“And how do you know that? What if it had spontaneously, like, failed and shut down, or something.”

“Then I think everyone would be running around and screaming, because monsters would be crawling through camp. I would know.”

You place the bucket next to all the other buckets collected today- you’ll keep the good ones here over night, away from the animals and bugs and someone will collect them in the morning.

You stand up, rolling your wrists, wiping the sweat from your brow. You take the small cutters for the thicker branches from your pocket and throw it into the bin with the others.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you can walk me back.”

“I jus’ think it’s stupid to be out here all alone,” she shrugs. You stare right past her, watching as the door slams shut. Was it windy?

Clarisse whips around, but sees it’s just the closed door. You frown, Clarisse steps forward.

“Sorry, Clarisse!” Van shouts from outside, and that’s when you hear the lock sliding into place. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s done.

“Van, what the hell?!” Clarisse shouts, trying the knob. The door stays firmly shut. She slams her shoulder into it, but this place was built strong to protect from the elements, from all the little animals hungry for strawberries. “Let us out right fucking now, I swear, Van!”

“I can’t!” he says back, sounding sort of pained. “I just couldn’t get her alone!”

“Me?!” you yell, feeling increasingly trapped and claustrophobic. You shove Clarisse out of the way and rattle the doorknob, but it really is locked. “I didn’t do shit to you! Let me the fuck out!”

“For Carter!”

You take a step back. Your face falls from anger and anxiety into pure and utter turmoil. Your chest squeezes like it does every time you think about him. You carry the pain and the regret so heavily you doubt you’ll ever get rid of it. You’ll always be like this, rotting in your head, watching your beauty fade away and everyone give up on you.

Will you finally be free then? If you scream and take a knife to your face, make yourself unrecognizable, will everyone finally leave you alone then? Can you be something other than this stupid camp’s stupid princess?

But it’s wishful thinking. You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, and you were born to be beautiful, and you were born to be alone.

“Van, I’ll fucking kill you. Let. Us. Out.”

“Sorry!” he shouts, and you hear his footsteps in the dirt, running away while Clarisse screams for him to come back here.

You take a deep breath but it all comes crashing down like a dam breaking. All of the anger, the regret, the fear, it all comes pouring out until you’re sobbing into your hands in the middle of the shed.

Clarisse stops trying to break through the door. It’s painfully tense for a moment, nothing besides the crickets and the sounds of your sobs. You end up sitting on half-empty bags of fertilizer and mulch in the corner- although it’s not really used much, sometimes the Demeter kids like to experiment- it’s the most comfortable thing in this shed.

You’re 17 now, and you broke Carter’s heart when he was 13 and you were 12. You wake up and you feel your guilt like you feel the sun on your face- it’s your morning routine to stare at yourself in the mirror and know that you are the blessed one who doesn’t deserve it. You beg to be free, but this is your punishment.

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “How does he not know I’m sorry?”

You never said it to him, of course- your siblings had told you Aphrodite would curse you if you said you were sorry, and you were 12 and scared so you shut up and you stared at him from afar, your first love and your first heartbreak. Could he not see the way you hated yourself? The way you hated everyone?

Why couldn’t anyone see that you weren’t a princess? You were a demon, so wicked you were worthy of being Hades’ right hand minion.

Clarisse sits down heavily next to you. She doesn’t say anything. She waits until the sobs start to ebb like a wave, until the worst is over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one final time. Maybe the wind will take pity on you and carry your words to him. You wish it would, but why? Why do you deserve it? Your nails dig into your palms, leaving blood red moons.

“Why are you sorry?” Clarisse breathes, seeming more genuinely curious then demeaning. “Who’s Carter?”

You miss the way her lip curls around the name.

“I can’t tell you,” you moan, because Clarisse is the only person who actually gives half a fuck about you, and it feels so nice to have her eyes on you- not in the way everyone else does. They admire you, despise you, she appreciates you. She stares at you from afar and you both know that you want more, but she’s content to stare and you’re content to let her.

She laughs. “Yes, you can. I wouldn’t even care if you killed someone named Carter. But seeing as you escaped punishment from Chiron, and you only got locked in a shed, it’s probably not that bad.”

When you look up at her you can feel the mascara streaming down your face. You’re sure you look like a raccoon, and you can see how unnerving it is for her to see you- always so calm and put together- reduced to tears by a single name.

“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, Clarisse.”

“I know,” she says, although it sounds like a question.

You stare at her, not able to say it, trying to convey to her with your eyes. You can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she thinks about the Aphrodite cabin.

“Oh,” she says. A few tears fall down your face. “The initiation thing- you have to break someone’s heart, right?”

“Yes,” you say, bitterly, resisting the urge to throw something and have a tantrum. You press your hands into your eyes, breathing heavily. “That stupid, stupid initiation. I hate being her daughter. I hate being like this.”

The hug starts out awkward. Clarisse places her arm lightly around your shoulders, starts mumbling apathetically that it’ll be okay. It’s not that she doesn’t care or anything, you’re both just foreign to what it’s like to feel this way for someone.

And it feels good to have someone touching you, so before you can stop yourself you’re shoving your way in her arms. She stiffens, sits up straight as your tears stain her orange camp shirt. But after a moment she hugs you back just as fiercely, with just as much desperation. She doesn’t say anything, probably because she doesn’t know what to say, and you can’t even comprehend your embarrassing, secret, unrealistic guilty pleasure of a crush is hugging you right now.

You’re too focused on the way she shushes you softly, her arm against your waist, the other around your shoulder- thumb drawing circles on your skin.

You’re too focused on the way she feels against you to even care about how awkward this will be later.

Finally, when night has really fallen and the wind starts to howl, you let go of Clarisse.

“Sorry,” you mumble, body locking up, staring firmly at the ground. Your face is caked in runny makeup- you feel as disgusting as you’re sure you look.

“It’s okay,” she says, hesitating for a moment before she stops touching you. “I, uh, I don’t think you should hate yourself.”

You scoff. Both at the ridiculousness of her stuttering and what she’s saying. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“No, I’m being serious.” She seems a little firmer now, like she really believes what she’s saying. But she doesn’t know you. “You shouldn’t hate yourself. Like, what do you even mean, you “hate being like this?’ What’s this?”

“I’m a monster, Clarisse. Literally, a fucking monster. I’m a horrible person, and yet everyone walks around and calls be princess because, what? I’m pretty? You can still be Aphrodite’s favorite and a monster. Maybe I am her favorite for a reason. Because of what I did.”

“A monster? Really?”

She looks at you like you’re the stupidest girl in the world. And Gods, coming from someone like Clarisse does that hurt.

You stare her down like you’re not about to cry. You squint so the tears won’t come, digging your nails into your palms to distract from the feeling in your stomach.

“I asked him to meet me at night. He told me he thought he loved me, and I laughed in his fucking face and said how could he ever think that I would love him? Who does that? Who is so fucked in the head?”

You look at her face, slightly twinged with disgust, and it feels good. It feels good to drive someone else away. To save them from yourself.

“This is my punishment. My life. And I hate it, but I know it’s what’s meant for me. I’ll never be loved. No matter how beautiful I am. I won’t let myself, I won’t hurt someone else. I don’t deserve it.”

She grabs your hand. You look at her, and she’s still so disgusted, so why is she touching you? Why is her face morphing into concern? Why does she still look at you like you’re this precious thing? Why do you like it? Why do you crave her like air?

“You don’t deserve this,” she says.

Why isn’t she listening to you?

“I don’t, Clarisse. Just- jus’ stop, please.”

But it finally hits you why she’s so disgusted. It’s not what you did, it’s the way you think about yourself.

“You came to camp when you were 12, right, so that’s when you completed your initiation? So, you were 12. You were 12 and listening to your older siblings. You were 12 and you made a mistake, and you’ve spent years and years punishing yourself over it. Most of the people at camp are blind, Y/N, but I’m not. I see the way you treat yourself, and that- you just don’t deserve that.”

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling a little breathless. “Maybe I was 12. But it’s too late. Everyone at camp thinks I’m a bitchy fucking princess.”

She smiles. “Well, you are.”

You throw her hand off of you and pretend to glare at her, but you’re smiling.

“You are a princess, Y/N, let me help you see it.”

Clarisse is your secret crush. She was a comfort for lonely nights, someone to think about when you were eating alone at dinner. And it didn’t help that she would stare at you while you imagined her sitting across from you. Clarisse is your secret crush, locked up in your chest and waiting to burst out like a cuckoo clock.

Clarisse is your secret crush, unrealistic and wishful thinking- but the way she looks at you right now makes it real.

The door clicks open.

“Oh,” Sasha, the girl yelling at you earlier says. “Sorry- I forgot my… uh…”

You quickly stand up, pushing Clarisse away from you. Sasha moves to the side and let’s you through the door. Against your better judgement, you stop and look over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, princess.”

—-

The next day, after waking up and realizing what happened yesterday wasn’t a bad dream, Clarisse is really doing something this sweet for you, you’re ready to forget it all ever happened and sit alone as you usually do.

You stand at the edge of the pavilion, searching across the tables for an empty one-

“Y/N!” Clarisse yells. She looks at you expectantly, and you notice the empty seat next to her.

Oh. She wants you to sit with her.

As beautiful and sweet Clarisse is, you still can’t let her be anything more than your secret crush. But you can sit with her for one meal. You can pretend, and maybe that will hold you over when you eventually succeed in pushing her away.

Your head was clouded by her touch, her smell, her voice- you weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions about “seeing Clarisse tomorrow.”

You stop at the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion.

“Please, Mom,” you mutter, dumping almost all of your plate into the flames.

This is probably the first time you’ve really prayed to her since the day you broke Carter’s heart.

You set your tray down next to her, swinging your legs over the bench and under the table, settling yourself in. Her siblings don’t even look up, all busy eating identical bagel sandwiches- you squint, resisting the urge to laugh at the cheese, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Ares kids are always eating the most gluttonous foods, seeing as they train 24/7.

Clarisse glares at your plate.

“What?” you say, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

“That is not enough food.” And while your plate mostly is empty space, you’re really not that hungry this morning.

You shrug. “I was in a praying mood today.”

“Don’t care, go get more.”

You roll your eyes, but you’d be lying if you said her concern didn’t make your stomach twist in a good way.

“Okay, I’ll grab something on my way out.”

She hums, turning back to your sandwich. All of her siblings are intent on eating their big sandwiches, a few people at the end of the table talk in between bites- but the Ares kids take breakfast very seriously. They’re a bit more rowdy at lunch and dinner, but breakfast is always such a sordid affair, like someone died.

Someone else sits at the table. You look up from your plate, watching as Van digs into his sandwich, sporting a black eye, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip.

“Oh,” you mumble, cringing at his bloody, messy face.

You look over at Clarisse, notice her knuckles are split open. She feels you looking at her and turns to you, a bite of half-chewed sandwich in her mouth.

“Wha-” she starts, but catches Van out of the corner of her eye. She giggles, just a bit, and it makes your stomach twist. “Oh, Van, you are one of the funniest people I have ever met.”

Everyone at the table turns to him.

A few giggle at his busted up face, Clarisse smiles at him in that demeaning way she’s famous for.

“Move.”

“I’m not fuckin’ movin’, Clarisse. Go fuck yourself.”

One of her siblings laughs loudly. Matty, you recognize him. “Dude, you’re seriously going to get beat up- again.”

“You are,” Clarisse shrugs. “I’m serious, move.”

Van rolls his eyes and sets his sandwich down.

“Listen, Carter’s my friend, he never wanted to get revenge, but I wanted to get it for him. I know it’d make him feel better. I was tryin’ to convince him to go fuck up her bed or something when… well, yeah. I didn’t mean to trap you in there with her, Clarisse, okay? I know you’re fuckin’ obsessed with her, whatever, but she’s a serious bitch. And not even that hot.”

Matty puts his head in his hands.

The table is deathly silent. He looks around.

“Come on. All those Aphrodite kids are stuck-up bitches, but she’s just got a particular rudeness about her, huh? And, really, I don’t think I could fuck her even if the world was ending.”

“What the fuck,” someone across from you, Max, mumbles. A girl adjacent to you coos softly, and you realize that there’s tears falling down your face.

Clarisse puts her hand on your thigh.

“Van,” she says, her voice calm and even. She breathes in and out. “I am going to fucking kill you.”

Van looks over to Clarisse, and that’s when he finally notices you sitting next to her.

“I-” he starts, but doesn’t get to finish, not when you pick up your tray and throw it across the table- hitting him directly in the nose. “Holy fuck!” he shouts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gods, fuck-”

You stand up and make your way around the table, tears clouding your vision, and he quickly stands up as well. No one makes any move to hold you back or protect him.

“Bitch,” he hisses. “Huh? Come at me, princess.”

And you meet him, attacking like a feral cat, all scratching and kicking and hitting, a fury fueled fully by your anger and the beauty in letting it all go. He grunts and tries to hit you back, but they barely touch you.

You can see Clarisse out of the corner of your eye, watching closely, arms crossed over her chest. It takes you a second, but for some reason, you can see her face so clearly. She��s slightly worried. She watches the fight with an intensity, like she’s happy to let you fight him- but if he actually hurts you, then she’ll jump in. But more importantly, she’s proud.

Gods, does it make you feel good.

“Fucking- bitch!” he shouts. “Get off of me!”

He pushes you back, you steel yourself. When he sees you coming at him again, he punches you hard. You swear you see stars. You swear you almost met Hades, just for a second.

Blood runs down your face, gushing like a geyser- you groan, one of Clarisse’s siblings making you pinch your nose and tilt your head back. Matty puts his hand on your shoulder, and mutters something encouraging about keeping your head back.

It’s all a daze.

“Clarisse!” her sister Carrie shouts, trying to hold her back while Van scrambles away on the ground, yelling incoherently about his teeth. “Clarisse! Clarisse! You got him, you got him, c’mon.”

It all comes rushing over you. Adrenaline kept you sane just for moment, but all the pain comes rushing back, and you almost scream with how much it hurts. You double down, chest pressing to your stomach while Matty and someone else try desperately to pull you back upward.

“Oh, Gods, why does it hurt so bad?” you say, more blood gushing forward, even through your fingers. It’s running down your neck and chest, permanently ruining your shirt.

“Van has a good right hook,” Matty winces. “Ass at everything else, but.”

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. She’s in front of you in a moment, hands under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. You can feel your face is absolutely covered in blood. “Hey, it’s alright,” she says, so softly that you’re the only one who can hear. “Okay, I’ll take you to the infirmary, okay?”

Matty let’s go of you, Clarisse replaces him, arm wrapping around your waist, fingertips still keeping your chin up. You walk in silence until you reach the infirmary.

She chuckles a bit. “You’re good,” she says.

“At what?” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Getting punched?”

“No,” she says. “Just… you’re good.”

One of the healers rushes over before you can even think of an answer.

—-

After your nose was reset, your shirt was changed, and all the blood was cleaned- you sat in the empty infirmary. Van was in a private room with most of the healers who were having a fun time trying to fix his face and do something with the teeth Clarisse knocked out.

She finds you slipping your shoes on, face puffy, a bag of ambrosia in your hand.

“Princess,” she says. “I told them it was all me. So, you’re fine. I made up some shit about you getting caught in the crossfire.”

Your chest deflates a bit. You were sort of looking forward to the punishment. “You didn’t have to do that, Clarisse.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to. And I do whatever I want.”

You smile, and she sits down next to you on the creaky bed.

“What’d you get?”

“Oh,” she sighs, hands on her knees. “5 months no dessert. 3 months of teaching sword practice to the little kids, that’s gonna be like Tartarus come again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “It’s all my fault.”

“I could have easily let the two of you beat each other to death. But I didn’t. You were too busy winning that fight to care about what I was doing.”

“I didn’t win,” you scoff. “If you didn’t jump in, the way he punched me, he got me.”

“You didn’t know about Van and his right hook,” she shrugs. “It’s okay. I fucked up his face a bit, but you did so much better.”

You’ve been permanently on the edge of tears because of the pressure in your nose, so when they spill over, it’s no surprise.

“W-why are you crying?” Clarisse asks, turning slightly towards you, placing her hand on your arm.

“Still a monster,” you remark, sarcastic smile on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that to him. I… I was just mad. And look, here I am escaping with no punishment yet again.”

You go to stand up, feeling like your heart is a hole in your chest.

She puts her hand on your thigh to stop you.

“I think… just the fact that you feel so bad means you’re not a monster. I don’t feel shit for Van. I’m glad he got hurt. I would do it again. I hope I get to do it again.”

“You’re horrible, Clarisse,” you smile. She smiles back.

“The only person I feel bad for is… you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt bad for. Everyone else in this camp is blind, Y/N. But I’m not. Not when it comes to you.”

And it’s like you’re seeing her for the first time. The way her curls always stick up in that one place, the way her eyes reflect the sunlight streaming through the window, the way the rough skin of her hands is nothing compared to the bones inside that hold you so softly. The way her lips look. The way she calls you princess. The way she sees you.

You’re both leaning forward, you’re both just teenage girls learning to love themselves, because you’ve always loved each other.

When her lips finally meet yours it all comes rushing back to you. You gasp and pull away after just a moment.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-”

Clarisse grabs your face and kisses you.

“You’re not deleting that. I don’t care what you think of yourself right now,” she whispers, lips against yours. “Because you’re wrong, and I’m going to show you.”

And against your better judgement, you let her show you. She shows you with her hands in your hair, her hands on your neck, on your face, her lips against yours. You let her teach you love with just one kiss, and you decide you have a newfound appreciation for your mother.

If love feels this good, this beautiful, then you’ve been missing out.

This goes against everything you’ve been preaching for years. But you’ve found a new religion in her, you promise to listen to her and to feel what she makes you feel- no matter how wrong you think it is. Clarisse shows you it’s not wrong.

She finally pulls away for air, searching your eyes, but you can’t breathe when she’s not kissing you. She seems to like what she finds, because she smiles.

“You’re beautiful, princess,” she mutters, and kisses you again. “You’re beautiful, and you’re so kind, and I’ll show you what I’ve seen for years.”

Everyone calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently. Clarisse says it like she’s caressing the word, pretending to caress you. Clarisse says it in the way you want her to say it, in the way that selfishly makes you feel so, so special. Clarisse says it like she knows you.

You were right. You’re not meant for love, it’s not meant for you. You’re meant for Clarisse.

—-

carter watching literally everyone fight over smth ridiculously stupid that happened when he was 12 and he got over 2 weeks after it happened: uh 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

—-

clarisse when she realizes y/n hates herself: WHAT????? HOW IS THIS???? HUH????? like she just doesn’t even understand she can’t comprehend it

y/n after hating herself for like 5 years and pretending she’s chill: 🤗

—-

van after he loses his teeth: 😞

clarisse when van loses his teeth: LETS GO FUCK THAT BITCH

—-

clarisse being y/n’s new religion btw 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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lurkingshan · 1 month

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What are some JBLs you recommend that have good kisses AND a good romance plot

LOL I can hear the pain behind this question, anon. It’s true that a lot of JBLs with a good romance story fail to deliver on the physical intimacy side of things, though that is becoming less and less the norm. I do have some that I think do both reasonably well. I don’t know exactly what “good romance” means to you, but I’m going to assume we’re talking about well-executed romance plots, regardless of the show’s overall genre and focus, where the characters and relationship arc make sense and don’t randomly derail somewhere along the way. Here’s what I got:

I Cannot Reach You

This is a high school friends to lovers (the cream of the crop for that trope, IMO). This is a story about realizing feelings and building the courage to change your most important relationship, so you’ll have to wait a bit to get those kisses but once you do, I think you’ll be pleased.

His

The second chance romance for me. This is a bl film about two men who come back together after a bad breakup and figure out how to make it work. I love them and this story so much.

Old Fashion Cupcake

There’s only one kiss in this short and sweet show, but it’s a real doozy. A super tight workplace age gap romance that knows exactly what it’s doing.

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Two actors who went to college together meet again when they are cast opposite each other in a bl drama, and get tangled up in the blurred lines between their professional and personal relationships. Angst, baby!

The Pornographer

This series features some of the best kissing and sex scenes you will see anywhere in the bl genre, but warning that it’s a twisted and wild ride. There are five installments and you gotta watch them all to see the full picture of the character and romance arcs. It’s so rewarding if you do.

The End of the World With You

From the same mind of the previous entry and similarly hot and wild and weird. This show has more going on than the second chance romance at its core, but it themes come together beautifully.

Tokyo In April Is…

Another second chance romance, this one features a lot of sex but also deals with heavy subject matter, so mind the CWs. It’s one of my favorites of last year and the love story in this one has really stuck with me; it’s beautiful and so hard won.

Love is Better the Second Time Around

This one comes with a disclaimer that it goes off the rails in the final two episodes, but you asked for good kissing so it would feel wrong not to include it. Yet another second chance romance (are you picking up on a theme here?), this one gets two former high school lovers back together as adults to sort out their misunderstandings, lingering feelings, and buckets of sexual tension. It was so good—until it wasn’t.

#i cannot reach you #his the movie #old fashion cupcake #at 25:00 in akasaka #25 ji akasaka de #the pornographer #the end of the world with you #bokura no micro na shuumatsu #tokyo in april is...#love is better the second time around #japanese bl #shan recommends #shan answers

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heretherebedork · 9 months

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Pit Babe is one of my favorite types to trope that BL does not take enough advantage of and that is 'what happens when your only way out is hypermasculinity but you really aren't like naturally and so wear it like a shield again the softness so deeply inherent in your nature that your cannot risk it being exposed?' and the answer is... Babe. Babe happens.

A hypermasculine racer who tries to avoid any kind of sexual or romantic connection and pretends he doesn't care at all who melts the instant anyone shows him that they can treat him sweetly and loses himself entirely in even the tiniest amount of affection because he has never been able to safely allow himself that affection.

Babe wears masculinity like a second skin and he blocks people out and he snaps and he glares and he teases the friends he doesn't love because they are safe and they remind him that he will never love or be loved because he is not that kind of man and he scoffs and bets the first person who's given him what he wanted on a race because that's what men do. They don't care.

But the longer he spends with Charlie the less comfortable he gets in his second skin. Charlie peels him bare with a stroke of his hair, with a kiss to his forehead, with a sweet smile, with breakfast in the morning, by fighting for him, by protecting him, by waiting at home for him, by soothing him when he sulks and pouts. Charlie found all those soft parts that Babe has been protecting with his masculinity and exposed them so tenderly and so kindly and with nothing more than love.

And I love that. I want more of that. I want more toxic masculine characters realizing the persona they've crafted for themselves is not their true self but rather a mask, armor, a second skin for the world and to be able to expose the softness in the safety of the person they love.

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tragedy-machine · 2 months

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Payneland fic rec list part 4!

1. Reach Out And Touch Faith - Edwin stops touching Charles; Charles doesn't deal well with it, Charles angst my beloved <3 and yes you could say I'm biased towards this fic hihi

2. I Turned Back One Last Time (just to prove you were there) - touchy Charles, paranoid that Edwin will get snatched again if he lets him out of his sight, Charles angst again

3. I'll let you go if you kiss me goodbye - "didn't know they were dating" trope, which is my favorite trope ever so I love this so dearly, believe me when I tell you I haven't been able to stop thinking about this fic since I read it!!!

4. The Problem of Forever - they meet a couple of ghosts and Edwin internalizes some shit about their fucked up relationship, Edwin angst for a change

5. feel - Edwin decided to put some distance between them and Charles takes it as a personal challenge, lol, touchy Charles yet again! and Edwin suffers for it

6. True Love's Kiss - Charles acquires a love potion and uses it to resolve his ongoing issue, Edwin suffers for it again lmao

7. something reluctant to let go - Edwin falls down into the sea, and what is Charles supposed to do? not jump after him? love this idea

8. boyfriend jacket - 5+1 times when Charles gave Edwin his jacket and one time Edwin stole it, it's a good jacket, who can blame him

I always try to reply under people's posts searching for fic recs with specific tropes so if anyone has a trope they'd like a a few recs for, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox and I'll scour my bookmarks for something for y'all!

And here's part 3 of the list, happy reading!

#payneland #my posts #dead boy detectives #dbd #dbda #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #charles rowland #dbd fanfic #dbda fic recs #dbd fic recs #tm rec list

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drarrargh · 7 months

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drarrargh’s fic rec list!! fics that drarrargh recs :)

‘... A Little Insecure’ by tigersilver

It’s an epistolary! Need I say more? If so, I will say more! The Draco characterization knocked my socks off! The ending put a smile on my face! The conflict of the story is super small but feels super big! It’s really really good!

Dwelling by aideomai

Do you have a hankering for the most devastating plot twist of all time? Look no further!

Nice Things by aideomai

The first time I read this fic I was stranded in Iceland due to a level three snowstorm, and it kept me warm in the cold. Yes this is a true story

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by @letteredlettered on tumblr

Identity porn! Getting hot and heavy with identities.

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered

amazing podfic of Away Childish Things by RattleandHum

Look, look, I know. Everyone in the fandom has already read this. It’s one of The Drarry Fics of all time. But maybe somebody is new to drarry, or maybe it’s time for you to reread it. You know you want to!

The Way Down by @letteredlettered

Being friends is hard, being a person is hard. Less hard ons then you’d expect though.

Two To Shore by Lamplighter

Disregard everything else I’ve ever said. This is my favorite drarry fic of all time. Ever. They’re both in slytherin and they’re best friends.

Hermione Granger's Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi

Podfic of Hermione Granger's Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by Lazulus

Drarry road trip fic but like, everybody is there.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym

My favorite draco characterization maybe um ever.

The Loathly Worm by Selden

There’s secret identities, there’s a big monster worm. What’s not to like?

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl

My comfort fic that I cherish and adore in sickness and in health for so long as we both shall live.

It takes a Village by Saras_Girl

Drarry live in a village together, with goats and a magic trout, which I just personally really enjoy.

Erosmancy by astolat

Erosmancy podfic by Lazulus

I come crawling back to this whenever I need a dose of raw unfiltered desperation.

Drop Dead Gorgeous by Maya

The dichotomy of extreme super silly situations and the most agonizing pining I’ve read to date.

An Emerald in The Sky by corvuscrowned

Timey-wimey

Trouble, My Old Friend by Tepre

Its important that harry faces the sexy sexy truth.

If It Takes All Night by @tackytigerfic

Draco and harry are just very good friends that are magically bonded... It gets me every gosh darn time.

Gryffindors Never Kiss and Tell by FeelsForBreakfast

This one never ever fails to pull me out of a bad mood.

hello goodbye (twas nice to know you) by tamerofdarkstars

soulmate trope!! woooo!!!

Matchmaker, Matchmaker by firethesound

Sometimes the situation is so dire that your house has to step in.

Who Shagged Harry Potter? by Faith Wood

the age old question! appropriately silly 10/10

And last but not least on this particular list,

Going Postal by dustmouth

Everything dustmouth draws is perfect and lovely. dustmouth’s ao3 account is sacred ground.

#i hope this list compels you #i hope that it delights and entices you #i am also maybe considering making a second list #drarry #draco x harry #harry potter #draco malfoy #fic rec #fic rec list #drarry fic rec

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sashi-ya · 11 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 20: GETTING CAUGHT Shanks 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @downforsanji ➡ Hii Sashi!! I always love your work, one of my favorite writers 😘 for the kinktober, may I please request kink/day 20 (getting caught) with Shanks? The reader is female (she/her). Additional kinks/trope are friends to lovers and praise/degradation kink. Also power dynamic if it suits the story. Thank you so much Sashi ❤❤ have a nice day!! ➡ hi love! I'm sorry for the delay, but here it is! finally! hope you enjoy! 💞 tw: kinda public. soft degradation. soft power dynamic. friends to lovers. ft buggy. wc: 1.2k 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Someday had to happen; they were friends -and sometimes brawled like enemies- but still everybody noticed the tension in between them swearing that their relationship had to be more than being friends…

Well, they were… right.

“I can��t stand you, Shanks. That damn face of yours, always so cocky but still acting like a sweet boy. People should know your true you” you spit, pushing him aside after he beat you in that game.

He keeps laughing, grabbing you by your wrist to stop you from leaving a party where nobody is paying attention at you, even though is full of people.

Shanks catches you, as your nose finally buries on his exposed chest. You smell the scent of his sun kissed skin, feeling his hand pressing your waist against him.

“Oops, you clumsy! Don’t fall” the red-haired scoffs, while your eyes fix on his sharp jaw and your legs quiver.

“Stop it, for real. You pulled me… are you that needy for feminine touch? You try to downgrade him, even if it’s you now who is not willing to move away from his arms.

Your friend hugs you closer, so close you can feel everything of him. And so close, he can feel everything of you, too. You gasp, because you are sure you just grazed something hard on him.

“Sh-Shanks…” you murmur. “(Name)…” he smirks, biting his lower lip so slow and sexy as he looks down to you.

Your hands feel sweaty against his chest, your legs more and more weak… truth is, that even though you love him as a friend… Shanks is beyond sexy, and you just discovered how much you wanted to touch his skin, to kiss his lips…

He looks to the sides; the music is loud, people are drinking, people are dancing, and others are dancing. Some more are passed out on the couches, and others about to. The music is loud, the smoke fills your lungs, and the little door of a pantry stays semi open behind you.

And Shanks pushes you slowly inside of it, and you walk backwards because you really want it as much as he does. And it wasn’t the alcohol, nor any drug… it was… desire.

As soon as you are inside, you hit your back with a shelf full of toilet paper with them falling on your head. Shanks, whose hand rests sexily but still delicately in your face, laughs at you.

“Stop it…” you shyly say, trying not to laugh. Even if you would like to keep it cool, you simply couldn’t. The man right in front of you shared many laughs with you not to laugh now.

“Or else? What are you gonna do, hm?” he teases you, lifting your chin up in between his fingers. His red locks tickle your cheeks, and the warmth of his breathe menaces with kissing you.

You swallow, pulling him even closer from the collar of his white opened shirt.

Inside of that little pantry, it’s hot and humid. And the little light filtering through the door is the only source of light… even if there is no need to see, because you know him so well. There is only one need, and it is to feel.

When his lips finally crash against yours, you moan loudly. It’s almost a surprised whine, a gasp of the unbelievable happening.

His tongue, and yours, dance lustfully. The music coming from outside, filters like a murmur, playing in the background while the pumping hearts of you two take over.

And the more you two kiss, the more both want to melt into only one body; his hardness pressed against your lower belly, the little hint of alcohol in his breath, the way he lifts you up holding you from under your legs and your arms around his neck.

“Fuck… if you wanted me this bad why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, scoffing once again, but this time with a little tremble on his voice he can’t conceal.

“Wasn’t it you the one who pushed me inside this place, Shanks? Is you who is desperate to fuck me” you reply, teasing him with your voice and softly humping on his erection.

Shanks stops smiling, and this time you feel the shelves on the wall carving on your back. He moves you so that his sex practically pierces your panties from under your short tight shirt; you can even feel his throbbing member all through his capri shorts.

“You are right, I am desperate to finally fuck you. I’ve been wanting to be inside of you from months… even holding myself back whenever you fell asleep next to me on that long trip with the guys…” he confesses, breaking your blouse with claws like a feral animal.

You are left speechless, thinking such thing would never come out of Shanks mouth… or at least when talking about you. But he seems to be watching you for long enough, waiting forever for you. Who are you to tell him to stop, despite being on a very public spot where anyone could walk in at any moment?

“Then… fuck me, once and for all ~” you purr, passing your hand through his beautiful crimson hair, feeling his eyes burn holes into your soul and the muscles of his jaw tensing in desire.

“As you please, my dear friend”

You aren’t very sure how, but he already managed to free his sex from his trousers’ prison. You can feel the wetness of his tip pushing against the equally wet surface of your panties. It is warm. It feels like heaven to even have your sexes barely separated by a fine mantle of lace.

But lace should be removed, or at least moved to the side, because this man wants to bury deep inside of you. And that’s exactly what he does, as he guides his sex towards your dripping flower.

He breathes your suffocated moan, while he stretches your entrance as he slides inside of you. Your nails carve on his shoulders, and after staying for a couple of eternal, killing seconds right by your entrance, he impales you so violently and mercilessly it rips a growl out of you.

And the more you moan and whine, the more his hips become the executioners of your sex. His grunts and low growls, the way that he sucks your nipples while he keeps fucking you…

The way you had forgotten you were at a party, in a pantry close to everybody… the way you had forgotten about time, and about parties ending at some point of the night…

“SHANKS?” a man, with blue hair and a funny looking nose screams while opening the door. “I can see your butt cheeks what the fuck!” he continues.

You open your eyes, picking through the broad shoulders of your lover, to see Buggy, Shanks best friend, screaming with the door open.

“Buggy… close the god damn door!!” Shanks protests, once he stops sucking on your breast. He doesn’t seem to care, and for some reason he only wants his friend to go away to keep fucking you. “Or stay, but let me finish fucking her”

“SHANKS, NO!” you chime. “Shanks, you are disgusting… fine! Roger called us, so hurry up. And I knew it, finally you did her” Buggy claims he knew, and of course he did. “Yeah yeah, now go!”

“Shall we continue, mademoiselle? “Shanks for the love of God…”

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic @fushiguroshotwife💖🙆‍♀️

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absolutebl · 6 months

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BLs with Strong Historical Elements

Costume dramas, historical BLs, and BLs with time travel or flashbacks to historical locations & times.

These are in order of my personal preference, best at the top.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

2023 Thailand

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). It's about a gay man from our time who falls into the past, becomes a servant to a noble house, and falls in love with the heir. It turns out this has all happened several times before. Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but not as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy soulmates BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and as individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show could easily have earned a 10/10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls in the final quarter. Argh. Whatever.

Nobleman Ryu's Wedding

2021 Korea - WeTV

A boy cross-dresses to take his runaway sister's place as a bride to a shy scholar, turns out they like being married. A historical setting allowed this BL to use some seriously old fashioned romance tropes (arranged marriage, evil step-sisters, Cinderfella) but also modern BL stylings like fake relationship & secret identity (drag) plus some cute gay panic. It reminded me of 12th Night more than anything else which just happens to be my favorite Shakespeare play. For all these reasons, I adored it.

(the ghat kiss!)

Tinted With You

2022 Korea - Viki

Fun stylish time travel meets portal fantasy with a likable cast, historical setting, and two actual kisses that mitigate the rough plot and issues around anachronisms.

Word of Honor

2021 China (censored) - Viki/YouTube?

I don’t rec Chinese stuff often, because I believe in censoring the censors, but this show is one of my favorites of the post 2016 censored bromances. It’s two murder-gay assassins (pining sunshine/tsundere), and they are so insanely gay for two boys who will never be allowed to kiss. Tropes include: wuxia, soulmates, paranormal, historical, and fantasy elements.

To Sir, With Love AKA Khun Chai

2022 Thailand - YouTube?

This is a true lakorn (basically Thai tellenovella or soap opera) with scenery chewing performances, especially from the mother characters. Gone With the Wind + Days of Our Lives but gay. That said? I loved it: A glorious central brother relationship (the best, made me cry), het romances, class divide + gay *gasp* main romance - oh my word, the campy drama of it all! Arranged marriage, rebellion, cut sleeves, over-the-top death with curses and regrets, beautiful if inaccurate costumes, secrets unraveling, cover ups, sparkle murder, sex herbs, coils within coils including snakes and murderous green metallic sequins (is anything gayer on this earth?). It’s a WILD ride but it does end happy for our gay boys. A man cries when he finds DEATH GLITTER. Come on! You haffa watch it. That said, like Manner of Death I struggle to rate something on a BL scale when it patently isn’t a BL. So I ended up giving this exactly what I gave that show, 7/10 I enjoyed it a whole lot, but not as a BL.

The Untamed (Special BL Edition)

2020 China (censored) - YouTube

Censored wuxia bromance, amorphous ending. Probubly the best known BL of its kind out of China and responsible for bring many fans to the BL side.

Our Skyy 2: Never Let Me Go

2023 Thailand - YouTube

I was nervous to watch this PondPhuwin vehicle but I liked it a lot! Doomed soulmates + paranormal time travel to fix the past. I’m happy for the outfits and the dancing (if not the singing). It’s not a bad premise and it’s nice to see GMMTV lean into its high production values for a change. I'd adore a full historical starring these two and this was definitely the best of the second series of Our Skyy. I don't think you have to have watched the original Never Let Me Go to enjoy this.

Legend of Long Yang: Rebirth

2017 China

Gaga

Whipping boy trope... literally, servant character takes the strap for the prince, who then makes him his bodyguard and lover when he becomes king. Low budget historical, comes off as kind of cosplay wuxia version of Irresistible Love, but we get (in the credits) an actual kiss, and they both live. So yay for small mercies.

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner

2023 Korea (historical flash backs)

iQIYI

A new employee at a film company encounters a director who claims to have lived 300 years and insists that they have to date (eat, hug & kiss) if baby doesn't want to die. It has a lot of Japanese elements, not the least of which are: an office setting, the fact that every character in this show is unhinged, and a killing of the gays. Featuring a gorgeous & stellar cast, TDWBMD should have utilized them less for melodrama and more for chemistry. This BL surprised me by going there with a lipstick mark AND an actually gay idol. But (you knew there was a but) while it's a unique twist on an office romance it is NOT a unique twist on the doomed red thread trope, resulting in it feeling less than the sum of its parts and ultimately unsatisfying. This might have also had to do with the fact that this was one of those KBLs where I felt how very short it was the whole time I was watching, like I was missing something constantly, in every episode. Worth watching for some but seriously flawed.

First Love Again

2022 Korea (historical flash backs) - Viki

A popular novelist who remembers his past lives meets his soulmate for the third time, only to find she has been reincarnated into the body of a man. This one started out a touch mean-spirited, but we eventually got a good kiss. The confession/rejection scene was justified and the reconciliation and ending was... fine. All in all, the pacing felt rushed and the romantic arc was underdeveloped. They go from like to love to boyfriends in a red hot minute. But that’s par for the course with Korea’s short form. If you don’t mind a heavy does of melodrama in your BL this one has a solid story with a strong concept that’s well acted and produced, making it a classic KBL with better than average chemistry but ultimately a touch forgettable.

Love in Spring AKA Spring of Crush

2022 Korea

This show was all over the place with uneven acting, narrative, and focus (sometimes it wanted to be a slapstick comedy, sometimes a depressing melodrama) which meant no one, actors or viewers, took anyone or anything seriously.... AND it’s a bromance. I was left wondering if SalHyung is now code for “they were roommates” in Kdrama historicals but otherwise largely apathetic and unimpressed. Korea, I now know you can do better. Do better.

Mermaid's Jade

2019 China (censored-esk) - Gaga

Kills the gay.

The Male Queen: Han Zi Gao

2016 China - Gaga

Kills the gay. Schrodinger's BL, both a BL and entirely not one at the same time.

Diary of Heong Yeong Dang

2014 Korea

Kills the Gay

I was gonna do a top 10 list, but there aren't enough by my metrics, so many end sadly.

This post at the behest of @verymuchof thank you for the idea!

Dated April 2023, includes only BLs that had finished their run by that date. Not responsible for cool costume flix that come after that. But you should check the comments to see if any have been added by others!

I might have missed a few that only have time historical elements since I don't always track those.

Also I would like to point out a decided lack of Japan on this list. My ninja yaoi consuming tiny past self is VERY upset about this void.

WHERE ARE MY GAY NINJAS??!!!

(source)

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spursthatjinglejanglejingle · 2 years

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I read a post a while ago talking about how a lot of "dead wife man" characters would be improved if the wife divorced the husband rather than died and i cannot get over how Disco Elysium is a perfect example of how true that is. If Dora died rather than leaving Harry so much of the story would've been so much less impactful, especially the Working Class Corpse quest.

Even ignoring how sexist that trope is, exploring the relationship between two people who were genuinely in love and then separated gives so much more room for messy and complicated feelings!!! No dead wife flashback will ever hit as hard as being able to call your ex wife and realizing that not only is she doing fine without you she's actually doing BETTER because you separated. The feelings of inadequacy!!! The abandonment issues!!! It's all *chefs kiss* i love it. Disco Elysium does so much perfectly but this is one of my favorites.

#ignore how they're not actually divorced because they never got married you know what i mean #Disco Elysium #de #disco elysium dora #disco elysium harry #disco elysium spoilers #de spoilers #rannbles #i can make posts about this game that aren't just memes see i swear

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blackhairedjjun · 6 months

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improvisation - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, a little bit angsty?, fake dating, university au, friends to ???, open / ambiguous ending | word count: 725 | warnings: food mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - UNCERTAIN: while pretending/acting/undercover, the sender says “i love you” to the receiver, but whether they meant it or not is left unknown. (requested by @mazeinthemoon - maybe jjuni who’s normally very shy about his feelings and then when undercover he uses it as the opportunity to say how much he loves reader? :( )

author's notes: hi moon!! thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart for being one of my earliest and biggest supporters, it truly means a lot ♥ i love shy!jjunie and i love the fake dating trope a lot so i'm glad i got to write them both for this prompt! i hope you enjoy!

“so yeonjun, how did you win our little bear over?”

“mom,” you groan, “don’t call me that in front of him…”

yeonjun glances at you with a giggle. “why not?” he says, his teasing smile making your heart beat a little faster. “it’s cute and it suits you.”

your mother grins at him and nods; your father looks up from the chicken he’s eating to raise his eyebrows in approval. at least his impromptu comment is having the intended effect, you think. yeonjun is playing the role of the perfect boyfriend as if he were born for it.

“anyway,” he says, leaning forward across the tiny table in your dorm, “we met in class…”

the story that you and yeonjun tell your parents is mostly true, with a few embellishments that you practiced the day before. the two of you did meet in class, and the two of you did end up being partners for a major project there. you did end up becoming his study buddy after he failed a test, and he did become your lunch buddy after he saw you eating alone.

but yeonjun talks about how cute you looked on the first day of class, or how warm you sounded when you comforted him after his failure — details he insisted on adding during your rehearsal, and you’re absolutely sure he made them up for dramatic effect. no way in hell would choi yeonjun, resident campus crush, think that someone like you looks cute.

when you call him a sweetheart for offering to sit with you at lunch after your ex-best friend ended your friendship, you know it to be true. but yeonjun calling you cute and warm? no, that can’t possibly be based on reality…

“i asked y/n to date me here in this dorm, actually,” yeonjun continues, his voice soft. “i ordered dinner for them, got all their favorite foods, played their favorite songs… and i said i love them.” he turns to you now, taking your hand in his and kissing it. “and i still do… i love you, baby.”

you freeze. this isn’t what you rehearsed.

but with your mother letting out an aww at your story and your father smiling, you can’t break the illusion. you intertwine your fingers with his and close your eyes, trying to calm the frenzied beating of your heart. why is he going off-script? what does this mean?

“i… i love you too, jjun…” you stammer. your hands are clammy and your face is hot. to your parents, you look like a blushing, lovesick mess.

at least you haven’t blown your cover.

一

the dinner is a success; you’ve managed to convince your parents that you’re happily dating yeonjun and not “languishing alone away from home,” as your mother feared. you should have felt contented washing the dishes while yeonjun dries them and puts them away. everything is going according to plan 一 right?

and yet your mind lingers on the one moment when your friend veered off-script. the soft “i love you,” the feeling of soft lips on your palm. surely yeonjun was merely improvising, convincing your parents of your heart-fluttering romance. but why did it make your heart flutter for real?

“your parents are nice,” yeonjun says as he dries the dishes you washed. “i see why you wanna impress them so much.”

his thoughts interrupt your from your reverie. you were thinking about his improvisation again.

“yeah.” you help him put the dishes away. “they’re a little crazy, but… they’re good to me.”

the question starts to rise in your mind and you feel your cheeks start to burn. all you need to do is ask him: “by the way, where’d that ‘i love you’ come from?” but your throat goes dry every time you try. yeonjun himself never brings it up. silence hangs between you; he looks up at you from staring at the dishcloth in his hands but he immediately turns away, his ears turning pink.

when the dishes are done, he manages to meet your gaze. his voice nearly cracks when he speaks.

“uh... s-see you with your mom again next week?”

“y-yeah... and practice what we’ll say the day before?”

“yeah, of course.”

you’re in such a daze that he’s out the door before you even know it, but he stops to look at you one last time.

“good night, y/n.”

“good night, yeonjun.”

and just like that, you’re left alone to your thoughts.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #yeonjun fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 19 days

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Currently Watching - September

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 11.09.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

gif-requests are open, but you'll need to have some patience🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in September with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. 4 Minutes 🇹🇭 (6/8)

Such an interesting series. Still a little bit confusing, but yet I am intrigued. Just how did Tonkla know that Great was the one who helped with his bother's murder. Why was is videotaped. This doesn't make much sense to me, but I bet I missed something. Interesting what can go wrong if you decide to take another path.

2. Cityboy_Log 4.2 🇰🇷 (18?/23)

This one is getting a little bit too staged and too boring. There is not much happening. It doesn't mean you have to fit in a jealousy plot or cheating, just let them do stuff. And those "upsi-we-got-caught-moments" are so staged and just not good. I don't like them. And please give the throuple some scenes where they acknowledge they like each other. Don't play with us like that!

3. First Note of Love 🇹🇼 (6/12)

This week we dealt with the aftermath of Orca coming back to Taiwan and the huge pressure lasting on Sea's shoulders. There is still not really a romantic spark between those two, it is more of a fan and his idol or a older brother caring for his younger sibling. And yet next week we get a confession and some romance... I don't know how to feel about it.

4. Happy of the End 🇯🇵 (4/8)

This week got dark. Damn. The whole episode four was a hurtful flashback of Haoran's life. And he had a fucked up life. And some of that he projects onto Chihiro, even though he is the only light in his life right now. But he doesn't know better, so I don't blame him. It was hard to watch, but it is something that happens everyday everywhere... we just don't look.

5. Hidamari ga Kikoeru 🇯🇵 (11/12)

We are 11 episodes in. I was trying to love it till the end. Yes, this is not just a story about Kohei and Taichi. There is so much more to it. But nothing is really told till the end. We just get snippets. We get snippets of how Taichi deals with the abandonment from his parents, but no real conflict or conclusion, but we know this affects him. We see a friendgroup, and don't get me wrong, I like Taichi's friends, but we don't get a real deep connection between them. Maya was put in there to be the drama, the villainess. Her story might have been interesting, but she is in no means a likable character and her story is going where? What was her purpose? Still don't get it. And the main plot. Where is it going. We got the first half of the series where Kohei and Taichi building a really strong connection and of course we whitness Kohei falling for Taichi. And with the second half I thought we see how those two work around it, how Taichi comes to terms with his own feelings for Kohei, because we already got the hint that he likes him too! Why was there no communication between these two at all during the last couple of episodes. It was all misscommunication. A trope I really don't like. And still today was no real talking between them. Just beating around the bush and changing the subject. I don't need smut or even a kiss in everything I watch. But I want some clearity and some good writing and most of all staying true to the characters! And this is not it anymore.

6. I Saw You In My Dream 🇹🇭 (9/12)

Okay. They are cute and I love their communication, from noth couples. Everything is going real smooth, so I guess the next episodes are going to be a little bit rougher. But this week we got a little bit consent and heart-eyes and soft touches and I really liked it here!

7. Jack & Joker: U steal my heart! 🇹🇭 (1/12)

I loved that we got this flashback of their past and how those two poor souls try everything to make people proud of them and end up in their own prisons. And yes, I am a War addict and I am finally back to my stuff on my screen and I couldn't be more happy!

8. Kidnap 🇹🇭 (1/12)

Okay, it is the first episode and Min is already head over heals with Q. With this paste we'll have the first break-up on episode five! And I like it! The show so far is quite alright. I am looking forward to their dynamic and the humor of it and of course I want to see how everything's going to turn out.

9. Seoul Blues 🇰🇷 (5/8)

When I said I want some drama, I didn't mean that! I hate this ex-story. He comes off like a real asshole, but they have a weird tension. But there was just the drama with the ex-girlfriend. And now there is the next hurdle in the way. Just give them an episode to relax and enjoy their new love. Argh!

10. The On1y One 🇹🇼 (7/12)

"You know, I've always felt that Guanyin Mountain by the Danshui River is quite efficacious. As long as you wish sincerely to it, it will certainly come true." And after that sentence you get this look on Wang's face!? Oh, he doesn't want them to be brothers. He is wishing for something closer, more intimate! And Tian too! And now they want to live together. I can't deal with the show! It is so good! The looks, the chemistry, the story, exquisite!

11. The Trainee 🇹🇭 (11/12)

And they're dating! They are cute together. I like that Ryan is encouraging Jane to go after his dreams- He build up his confidence and now Jane is ready to start something new. I really like this dynamic! It is a very pleasant turn of events. Ryan is such an interesting character. He is kinda shy and inexperienced, but can voice his needs and wants really good. I am looking forward the last episode.

12. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Do you still believe I'll come back to this one? It is a really good series, but I can't motivate myself to dive into it right now 🙈

Finished in September

Series

Takara no Vidro 🇯🇵

We had our final today and I loved it! The fact both of them missed each other and communicated this. Taishin likes it when Takara opens up to him, because it makes him feel special and closer to him. And I get that. Takara is a person who doesn't talk much about himself, but who has so much anxiety and Taishin wants to share those burdens, because they are equal, because he wants to take care of Takara too. I started this series without any expectations and with mixed feelings, but it slowly became one of the gems of the week and I was so looking forward to this final episode! A really good 9 out of 10.

Movie

Short Film

Dropped in September

Looking forward to in September

Live in Love - Trailer (Sep 1st)

Happy of the End (Sep 3th)

Kidnap - Trailer (Sep 6th)

The Hidden Moon - Trailer (Sep 7th)

Jack and Joker - Trailer (Sep 9th)

Unlock your Love - Trailer (Sep 11th)

The Time of Fever - Trailer (Sep 12th)

Love Sick - Trailer (Sep 14th)

Bad Guy my Boss - Teaser (Sep 15th)

Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Sep 17th)

Chaser Game W2: Utsukushiki Tennyotachi (Sep 20th)

Uncle Unknown (Sep 20th ?)

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williamrikers · 1 year

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On the subject of consent in recent BLs

In this analysis, I will take a look at several love scenes in recent Thai BLs, how they frame consent and the sexual agency of the characters, and why those matter.

(KinnPorsche deserves its own post: I’m sure people have already written in detail about how much emphasis is placed on issues of consent/non-consent throughout the show and how fundamental consent is to the relationship arcs of both KinnPorsche and VegasPete, and I won’t belabor the point here. Also, special shout-out to The Warp Effect for what it brought to the conversation about gay sex, but TWE isn’t technically a BL so I decided not to include it in this analysis.)

I am going to take a closer look at the following shows in this essay: Not Me, The Eclipse, A Boss And A Babe, Step By Step, and La Pluie.

Not Me and The Eclipse predate the other shows by two years/one year respectively, but I feel it is valuable to include them here because both show very explicit negotiations of consent that I feel are spiritual successors to the wonderful scenes we’ve been getting in the other three shows.

Why am I even writing this? There used to be an unfortunate tendency in the genre to have a power imbalance between the “seme” and the “uke” character, which translated into the seme deciding when to have sex and what kind of sex to have—and even though recently, several shows have done good work in dismantling the seme/uke dynamic and questioning the associated stereotypes, it cannot be denied that the archetypes are still an important part of most BLs, and even in cases where the tropes are played with and questioned, understanding those subversions still requires a knowledge of and familiarity with the original tropes on the part of the audience.

However, gone are the days of Until We Meet Again and Dean’s “I’ve waited long enough, make sure you’re ready.” (I enjoyed UWMA a lot but that was. Yeah. Not Great.) Now, we see characters actually talking about and negotiating their limits, and doing what feels good to them.

Let’s start from the very beginning. Not Me was an absolute trailblazer in this regard, and not mentioning it here would be a gross oversight. The first time Sean and White have sex, it happens in their version of the beach episode. (Which, in Not Me, is the two characters briefly living in a tent inside an abandoned building. This show is the best.) Sean and White are removed from their usual environment and protected from the outside world by two barriers: the walls of the old house and the tent that’s literally enveloping them and giving them a space that is unequivocally theirs, shared, in which neither one of the characters has any sort of power over the other. And what happens in that space when they’re about to have sex is extremely interesting: the first thing Sean asks is whether White is afraid of him, which White denies. The following exchange goes like this: White: "So, what are we doing?" Sean: "What should I do to you?" White: "That’s up to you." (Watch the whole scene here.)

I find this exchange incredibly meaningful because this already turns the seme/uke dynamic that can be found in a lot of other shows on its head. OffGun as a branded pair can easily be stereotyped into the seme/uke dynamic just because of their physical appearances, and clearly spelling out that both characters have agency in this scene is incredibly important.

And then it gets better! Sean assumes that White is sexually inexperienced (which is not true but the fact that White was actually in a relationship with a woman back in Russia never comes up again after the pilot episode, so maybe the show expects us to assume this, too), and suggests they try different things and White can tell him what he likes and doesn’t like. Compared to the stuff we’re getting now, this scene isn’t very high heat at all, but it’s one of my favorite intimate scenes ever because them asking each other “Do you like this?” after every kiss, every touch, is so incredibly unique and transports a wonderful sense of figuring out sexual pleasure together, as a couple.

Sex in Not Me is not something one character does to another, it is something that is discovered and shared together, and we even get an afterglow scene in which they gently tease each other about their fast beating hearts. (And don’t get me started on the importance of White choosing to ask Sean whether Sean is okay with White not being like Black in that moment right before they have sex, because he doesn’t actually want to have sex with Sean as Black! He wants to discover and share intimacy with Sean as White, as himself, not as his brother! The layers!)

Anyway, I think that scene paved the way for a lot of the conversations around consent we’re now getting in BL, just because it is so explicitly, unashamedly putting forward a definition of sexuality that has nothing to do with one character actively giving and the other passively receiving, but frames intimacy as something that is built together. (More on giving and receiving later!)

Now, moving on to The Eclipse. I decided to include the first time Akk and Aye have sex for a different reason: while we don’t really see them actually talking about consent, we see them practicing non-verbal consent. Let me explain. Akk’s and Aye’s whole thing is teasing each other. At first, Aye is usually the one doing the teasing, but Akk gets the hang of it towards the end of the show and teases his boyfriend right back. When they’re in Akk’s childhood bedroom together, Aye clearly alludes to the fact that he thought they might use this opportunity to have sex for the first time, which Akk pretends not to understand, all while alluding to it himself. I love this guy. (Watch the whole scene here.) Anyway, Akk says he wants to sleep, lies down and once again, tells Aye jokingly he just wants to sleep, clearly expecting Aye to do what other BL protagonists do at that point and not take no for an answer (sidenote: I HATE the “saying no as foreplay” trope with a passion and as far as I’m concerned it should die already).

However, Aye is not like other BL love interests, and he backs off. He stops touching Akk, lies down with his back to Akk, showing Akk that he takes him by his word: if Akk says he wants to sleep, Aye is going to let him do just that. So now, it’s on Akk to say that, no, that’s not what he meant, can Aye please come back to cuddle. And then Akk is the one to escalate from cuddling to kissing, which is extremely important: we know that Aye has been ready to have sex with Akk since forever, it’s Akk who’s been having hangups about intimacy this whole time.

They don’t put consent into so many words on this show, but Aye shows Akk that he respects his limits and that Akk only has to tell him he doesn’t want to do something and Aye will take him at his word.

So, these are, to me, two foundational scenes of establishing consent: one that shows consent as something that is established verbally, as an ongoing conversation, and one that shows consent as something that is established physically, by showing your partner that you respect their choices and limits by way of simply acting accordingly.

Now, let’s get into the fun part: scenes we got so far in 2023. I’m writing this post on the 13th of June, and I’m sure this year still has some great things in store for us, especially because Step By Step and La Pluie are both ongoing and neither of the main couples are actually together yet at time of writing. However, they’ve both already given us AMAZING scenes on the topic of consent, so I feel it is worthwhile to write about those already.

I want to start off by talking about A Boss And A Babe.

Let me just preface this by saying that the intimate scenes in ABAAB are some of my all time favorites in BL ever, because in them, sex is something that is just so normal. When Gun and Cher have sex, we don’t see them very passionate, excited, reluctant or wide-eyed innocent (which are some of the emotions traditionally associated with sex in BL). On the contrary, in every single scene that shows them being intimate, both characters are incredibly calm. They’re certainly happy to be with each other, but in a subdued way. Someone described their second intimate scene as them seeming like they’ve been married for a few years. They’re both just… incredibly normal about having sex with each other. It’s simply something they like to do together. It’s a part of their romance but it’s not more or less important than any other aspects of their lives.

And consent is at the very heart of it.

When Gun and Cher have their first time, we see Gun explicitly asking for consent two times: first, “Can I kiss you?”, then, “Can I do more?” The second one even comes with the promise that if Cher says no, Gun will immediately go to sleep without mentioning it again. And then it is on Cher to say yes, to pull Gun close and kiss him to show him that he is comfortable with taking things further. (In the show, these two questions were shown apart from each other, I cut together a version of the whole First Time Scene in its entirety, watch it here.)

Now, things get more interesting: the second intimate scene shows Cher initiating the encounter (watch the whole scene here). Cher pretty consistently falls into the uke category, both physically and as far as characterization is concerned, but he’s certainly not shy in the bedroom. And this time, he’s the one who asks for consent from Gun: Gun asks “You’re starting it?” and Cher’s response is “Can I?” Despite him being framed physically lower than Gun, basically at Gun’s mercy, he still seeks confirmation that Gun is okay with the way things are going. Not to overstate it, but to me, this feels revolutionary. Once again, we’re being shown that sex is something two people do together, as a shared activity, and that the “seme” character isn’t expected to just be up for it. He, too, has the right to say no.

On this show, sexual agency is taken extremely seriously, and it is clear that both Gun and Cher give each other space to decide what they’re comfortable doing. This is shown in non-intimate scenes as well: there are so many moments on ABAAB in which the characters negotiate physical touch and closeness, asking each other for hugs before actually hugging each other, Cher leaning on Gun’s shoulder in the car but not allowing Gun to touch him because that’s not what he’s comfortable with in that moment, and so on. (The only exception to this otherwise pretty consistent rule is the kiss in the car scene, which I’m still extremely confused about because it seems to go completely against Gun’s character. Who knows what happened there.)

Of course, the fact that so much emphasis is placed on negotiation and consent isn’t surprising on a show that has such obvious kink undertones and whose Our Skyy 2 entry basically consisted entirely of Dom/sub roleplay at work—I’m just saying, I think someone on the writing team is way into BDSM and knows all about the importance of enthusiastic consent from all parties involved, and I would like to send them flowers.

Step By Step hasn’t really reached the point where we can analyse the dynamic between the main couple (although we can take some educated guesses based on the interactions we’ve seen so far). However, last week’s episode had an extremely important scene between Pat and Put: Pat wanting to have sex with Put, then changing his mind mid make-out (watch the whole scene here). I really like the way this scene was done. No matter how shitty Put treats Pat at times, in this instance, he immediately understood and respected Pat’s change of mind without Pat even saying or explaining anything—at the end of the episode, Put says to Pat that Pat should tell Put when he feels ready to have sex. (We already know this will never happen because of course, Pat and Put are not endgame, but I do appreciate the sentiment.)

BLs rarely include a whole storyline in which the protagonist is in an actual, serious romantic relationship with someone other than his endgame love interest (hi Moonlight Chicken!), or if they do then just to up the angst factor. In this case, however, I feel that this scene raises our expectations for Jeng even further: if the guy who is definitely not a romantic match for Pat treats Pat with this much respect in the bedroom, then Jeng has to do at least that and then some. I do feel confident that Jeng won’t disappoint in this regard, but it’s fascinating to see a show frame this kind of respect as the absolute baseline minimum, with the endgame love interest expected to do even better.

Now, the one you’ve all been waiting for. The one that made me write this whole essay in the first place: La Pluie.

Oh boy. Where to start.

A week ago, we got an incredible make-out scene on Saengtai’s floor, which ended in Patts stopping the encounter because he could tell Tai wasn’t really comfortable taking things further—@bengiyo talked about that scene in detail here. And then, three days ago, La Pluie gave us the most unique, trope-defying, timeline-changing blowjob scene of all time, and I want to talk about it.

Tai and Patts are making out on their bed, Tai is not ready to go “all the way” and stops Patts from undressing him. We see a very realistic frustrated reaction from Patts, who nevertheless immediately stops and accepts Tai’s wishes—it is clear that Patts does not expect things to go any further at this point, and that he won’t pressure Tai into anything.

And then, Tai offers to blow him.

(Unfortunately, this show is only on iQiyi so I can't link to it, but you can get a good impression of the scene here.)

I mentioned the concepts of giving and receiving earlier: other people have said this more eloquently than me, but there is a tendency not only in BL but also in wider society to view sex in terms of giving and receiving, with a lot of expectations and stereotypes attached to the roles during different sexual acts. On other shows, that blowjob might be framed as a consolidation or an apology, something that the giver does out of a sense of obligation without enjoying it much. Not so on La Pluie! Tai is shown incredibly happy and satisfied afterwards, both when they’re sleeping next to each other, as well as on the morning after (see also @ginnymoonbeam's post about that here). Tai offered to blow Patts because he simply wanted to, not motivated by guilt or anything of that sort. And he genuinely enjoyed it! In the post I linked above, @bengiyo points out that La Pluie consistently centers queer desire, or more specifically in this case, male desire for a male body; much in the same way that the camera fucking loves Force’s body on ABAAB: the sensuality of the skin, the hands, the abs, the flat chests, the broad backs and shoulders of these men is explicitly emphasized, and Tai’s desire for a dick in his mouth is made absolutely crystal-clear. Of course, since this is a TV show and not a porno, we only see Patts’s thumb in Tai’s mouth instead of his dick, but the imagery, the implications, are clear as day.

And it is such a gentle framing, too: Patts caresses Tai’s lip lovingly, Tai opens his mouth slowly, seductively, then faces Patts’s crotch with a soft look on his face. We do get a clear sense of this encounter as tender, and gentle, and most of all, desired. Tai’s queer desire is at the heart of this scene, and at the heart of the afterglow scene as well. He wanted this man’s dick in his mouth, openly suggested it, showed Patts he was sure about his decision after Patts asked him whether he was, and ended up clearly happy and satisfied with the sex they had. This post, also by @bengiyo, goes into more detail on that.

This, once again, shows us sex as a conversation rather than a series of predetermined acts, shows us sex as a shared activity, as something that can be wonderful and intimate and make people happy without following what society views as “the correct steps”. I think this is extremely important because one part of queer identity is figuring out one’s own relationship to sexuality, one’s own desires and needs, and BLs that ignore this aspect fall a little short in my opinion. Sure, those men are kissing, but do they experience queer desire? Do they experience joy in their queer desire?

For me personally, a show that does not shy away from these questions is a lot more meaningful than a show that does, and consent is at the heart of it all. By framing sex as a conversation, as something that is built and shared together, the shows I looked at here are actively positioning themselves against the idea that there should be predetermined roles for partners during sex, and instead suggest that queer joy can be found in communication and consent. Understanding sex and intimacy as something that is built together, with both partners as equals in conversation, is just as radically queer as a man waking up with a smile on his face after giving his soulmate a blowjob the previous night.

And quite honestly, a male character who clearly, passionately, unquestioningly communicates that he wants a dick inside of him—that is incredibly sexy. But maybe that’s just me.

#*mine #not me the series #the eclipse #the eclipse the series #a boss and a babe #step by step #step by step the series #la pluie #la pluie the series #i said ''is anyone going to write a 3k meta analysis on this topic'' then didn't wait for an answer

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twilightarc-gm · 6 months

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hello :D can you tell me why you like chengxian?

A Non-Comprehensive Guide to Twi's Love of ChengXian

Yes I spent time making this edit. I love them and I'm not an artist so sue me.

Short Answer: I love these two self-sacrificing assholes and their aesthetics and I think they should kiss and get a happy ending for once. If MXTX doesn't want to do it, I'll write it instead! 😤

Long Answer: Click the Read More

"As long as we both live in this world, we'll meet sooner or later." -- Vol1 Chap6

👏 MDZS literally doesn't happen without Yunmeng Shuangjie, it doesn't happen without the huge sense of debt and love and envy and pride and duty that comprises everything about the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng. They must meet because their stories are so wrapped up in each other that where one ends and the other begins is a blurred line at best.

MXTX put in so much work to separate these two for the happily ever after she wanted and if you think about it too much you start to wonder if the Wei Wuxian we grew to love with this story, that says this kind of line, is ever going to be really happy without Jiang Cheng in his life.

💗It's not incest, but the boys wish it was. I am half-joking about this, but also absolutely serious. The vague labels on their relationship is a very big part of the point!

They are very much the Shixiong/shidi(mei) xianxia/wuxia romance trope. The talented and wonderful shixiong. The shidi(mei) that adores their shixiong but can't be honest about it. Childhood friends to sweethearts. MXTX uses this trope and subverts it by not making it endgame or letting the story just end with the tragedy of the First Siege.

She uses the power of this trope to feed into everything in and around the secret of the Golden Core Transfer. It ends up affecting the entire cultivation world as the greatest token of love, of devotion, of sacrifice, of consequence, of dubious consent, of the crux of the very story itself... which is just incredibly powerful.

And the rest of MDZS flows from that.

He had always thought Jiang Cheng would be the one standing with him, and Lan Wangji against him. He'd never imagined that reality would be the complete opposite.

This is literally errata from vol1 official pg 262 and I swear it wasn't put in the first time because it feeds ChengXian too much. You say that Wei Wuxian thought Jiang Cheng would always be by his side? He couldn't imagine a world where that wasn't true?? That now he's in a reality where it's the opposite??? Omg???? Like this is the sum of the ChengXian tragedy right here because MXTX made a reality where they couldn't be together! 💔😭

Like LOOK!

“When you become the family head, I’ll be your subordinate. We’ll be just like our fathers. Who cares about the Twin Jades of Lan? Our Yunmeng has Twin Heroes! So—just shut up. Who said you’re not worthy of being family head? No one’s allowed to say that, not even you. Say it and you’re asking to get beat.” --Vol3 Chap12

You see for me it's about the strain between love and duty and all the points where those two cross.

My actual favorite romance trope is king/lionheart - lord/devoted - leader/subordinate - patron/agent - master/servant - 知己 (zhiji)

this relationship of knowing is one that is worth dying for

“So when Wei-gongzi returned to seek us out, my jiejie was reluctant to even attempt the procedure, at first. She warned him that writing an essay was one thing, but actually doing it was quite another. She wasn’t even confident she’d have a fifty percent chance of success.

“But Wei-gongzi kept pestering her. He said fifty percent was fine; the chances of success and failure were equal. Even if it didn’t work out and his core was wasted, he wasn’t worried about his future—but that wasn’t the case for Sect Leader Jiang. He was too competitive, too focused on what he stood to gain and lose in this aspect, since cultivation was his life. And if Sect Leader Jiang could only ever be an ordinary, mediocre person, his life would be over.” --Vol4 Chap19

Wei Wuxian was willing to risk his life on a 50% chance if it meant Jiang Cheng would Live. Yes yes Wei Wuxian's patent assholery here about how Jiang Cheng is so competitive etc, classic fooling himself. The point is that Jiang Cheng wouldn't be Jiang Cheng anymore and Wei Wuxian would rather die than experience that. Would rather cut himself apart than fail to protect his shidi.

Speaking of failures...

Perhaps there was this:

“I didn’t get caught by the Wen Clan because I insisted on returning to Lotus Pier to retrieve my parents’ bodies.

“When you went to buy rations in that small town during our escape, a group of Wen cultivators caught up to us.

“I noticed them early and left the spot where I’d been sitting to hide in a corner of the street. I didn’t get caught, but they were patrolling, and they would have surely bumped into you while you were getting us food.

“So I ran out and lured them away.” --Vol5 Chap22

Jiang Cheng never wanted Wei Wuxian to die, let alone die for him. He breaks down at the shrine coming to terms with what he will ultimately think of as his fault. We know this because when he feels at fault he doesn't speak of his good intentions. So, he distracts the Wen-dogs from Wei Wuxian > Gets caught and survives, broken > as far as he knows he's miraculously healed > only to find out that Wei Wuxian was taken by the Wen-dogs anyway 3 months later > Jiang Cheng never speaks of his failures, so will never say how lost his core in the first place > a war and 13 years later he finds out that not only did he fail to protect Wei Wuxian from Wen-dogs, but now also knows unequivocally that Wei Wuxian's descent into heretic cultivation was his fault... again.

As tears streamed down his face, he hissed through gritted teeth, “…Why…why didn’t you tell me?!”

And he begs to know why Wei Wuxian would do this!

“Consider it a repayment of my debt to the Jiangs,” Wei Wuxian added.

Jiang Cheng raised his head and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “…To my father, my mother, my sister?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Not him. Wei Wuxian won't admit it's for Jiang Cheng--the shidi he meant to protect as a good shixiong, the master he was meant to support, the heir and symbol of the clan and sect he loved so much he would readily lose a hand to protect.

The way Wei Wuxian tortures Wen Zhuliu by leaving him whole and standing while his charge Wen Chao is torn up bit by bit... The delicious parallels of -- you made me a failure, now see how you like it, watch the one you are meant to protect be torn asunder.

...

Hold on I need a moment...

...

How about some cute stuff?

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. -- Vol1 Chap4

He put his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and dragged him over to the veranda railings to sit down.

[...]

Jiang Cheng was quiet, but he seemed to have calmed down a little. Wei Wuxian put an arm around his shoulders again. --Vol3 Chap12

💗Wei Wuxian is always all over the person/s he likes and loves. Jiang Yanli might have been the first to carry Wei Wuxian but Jiang Cheng's were the first shoulders he chose to hang off of. Jiang Cheng stands so straight because he is used to bearing Wei Wuxian's weight! (Also he's of the gentry, and you can make arguments about a rod in places where the sun doesn't shine, but Wei Wuxian benefits regardless!)

Among all the kicks and shoves and rough housing and sparring, they are just so tactile.

Gif from this post.

… Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said. --Vol1 Chap4

💜 Yes I am bringing back this quote from my Jiang Cheng appreciation post.

Hnng, I am trying to be more concise, but like one of the things I also enjoy in romance is how two imperfect people choose to be together and that choice that they make is the gold and solder that fits the pieces together into art. Sure MDZS didn't want to go there even though that's where it started, but to me it will only ever be the story of Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Honestly even Yi City arc is YMSJ | CX to me.

Song Lan = Jiang Cheng

Xiao Xingchen = Wei Wuxian

Baoshan Sanren is involved

Eyes = Golden Core

Baixue Temple = Yunmeng Jiang

GUILT

RUNNING AWAY

Xue Yang = Yuan Qi (Resentment) Modao/Guidao

CORRUPTION

A-Qing = lwj being obsessed with WWX and fighting his use of guidao like a-Qing is distrustful of XY and XXC being friends with him.

XXC kills SL = WWX kills JC (figuratively, JYL's death destroyed the last of the JC from their childhood and all the trust he had in WWX (you cannot tell me that WWX doesn't feel like he caused JYL's death (he couldn't control the corpse that hurt her, he didn't sense the sword coming for him and she had to protect him)))

XXC's suicide and shattered soul is thus my grounds for headcanon to what actually happened to WWX at the First Siege, just sayin'

...

Anyway that's a bunch of canon stuff how about the realm of fanfiction/art?

Meme Format Reasons Twi is unwell about ChengXian:

From this post (yes that's my same edit)

Art Commissioned (So Far, more on the way and some I can't share yet) for ChengXian:

Happy ChengXian with Wei Wuxian in Purple by @robinade

Supportive ChengXian in pretty clothes! by Sugar_Shoal

Some more points for consideration:

💗 Point 1: They can't be normal about each other, due in large part by the people who raised them being unable to be normal about them either.

💗 Point 2: Their opposing ideologies, duties, and priorities make for the best drama, but in a better narrative, would balance each other.

💗 Point 3: Martial sibling romance ➡ tragedy! They fought together! Thought the future would be them together always! Then everything in the narrative tears it apart and all they're left with are the ashes of their choices and the lies that buried them.

💗 Point 4: Every AU where they end up happy instead!! 😭 I can't wait for @twinclownsoflotuspiers next CX Happy Ending event! Thankfully there is also @omiixcx coming up this APR 21st-27th! 👀 Yes that was a promo and prod.

💜 Point 5: ChengXian Pros = Zongzhu-shidi getting to love and protect his shixiong fully and truly without restraint.

🖤 Point 6: XianCheng Pros = Overprotective shixiong merciless in his affections for his Zongzhu-shidi.

💗 Point 7: Ship them for tropes based on miscommunication, acts of service, there was only one bed, boundary issues, genderfuckery, soul bound by choice, bickering, bantering, finishing each other's sentences, married-divorced-never-were, childhood shenanigans, cutting oneself on the other and denying the blood ever was...

...

I am not even getting into the monster/monster-maker aspect, am I? They are both at the same time!

JC makes WWX a monster by being the recipient of the golden core and believing WWX has control of guidao so encourages its use.

WWX makes JC a monster by lying to him until their relationship is broken irrevocably at the Bloodbath and years after JC is known for hunting demonic cultivators.

If you want to get really dark with it, there's also the cannibalistic aspect. WWX becomes a part of JC with the transfer. JC unwittingly consumes WWX and his fortune. The golden core is in the lower dantian, the belly, behind and below the navel. The symbology..! XianCheng is really good for the more gothic themes of the ship.

Let's be real, the vibes are straight up Wuthering Heights in multiple facets. MXTX recently admitted to that novel was one she read so insert conspiracy theory red string board meme here!

...

I spend a lot of time readdressing the themes introduced with the YMSJ dynamic and are exacerbated by the golden core transfer and the way Wei Wuxian handles and fails to handle that situation. I like how destructive they are about each other. There's a lot of potential there to create something together as well, but they were never given the chance.

Ideally, after the Jiang parents were gone and not influencing them anymore, or if they aged up enough to just stand on their own—and Wei Wuxian has his cultivation intact... Well in that scenario they could have easily stayed the Twin Prides/Heroes of Yunmeng and they would have been so happy being in the home they both loved and making the most of their lives one step at a time and arguing the whole way.

...

That's what fanfiction is for! 💜💗🖤

Hey, you made it to the end! I hope that was entertaining at least there is so much going on with this ship sometimes my brain just goes brrrr about it, y'know? Take care! Happy CX thoughts to you!

#chengxian #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #twi posts

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ram-bam-writes · 3 months

Text

Lost Kisses... [ExBf!Simon Riley x Big!Fem!Reader] (R'qst)

A/N: This was a request by a lovely, lovely friend of mine! I don’t usually write for fem readers or for Ghost, but I do love my friends very much and I love writing for readers that don’t normally get fics (I’m lookin at you, my lovely chubby peeps!), so… here we are! No image because I don't plan to continuously write for Ghost save for what my dear friend asks of me :>

Summary: You aren’t expecting to see your ex of three months at the mall — and when you try to slip out unnoticed, you get a little more than you bargained for…

CW: A bit of frottage, some hefty makeup, ex-boyfriend trope, suggestive words, no beta we die like soap, etc. Nothing too explicit, really

Word Count: 1169 (Nice)

[Pt.1] [Pt.2]

It’s been almost three months. Three months since you’d left one of the best partners you had.

You wanted to stay, you did. But it just wasn’t reasonable. His work schedule, the lack of communication, it just… It wasn’t working.

Going to the mall is something you always enjoy. It’s been keeping your mind off the sleepless nights, too. And, besides, you needed a new shirt — the satin shirt you bought last week just… didn’t hold the girlies in like promised. Big surprise.

But the moment you step foot into one of your favorite stores, you see him. You don’t expect to — why would you? Simon never had time to go to the mall with you. And now he’s here?

Shit…

Time to go, you think quickly, trying to talk yourself out of the fact that you may have just seen him spot you. As you quickly stumble out of the entire mall itself, you let your thoughts take over.

No, no. Of course he didn’t see you. There’s at least thirty people in that store alone — he didn’t see you! How could he see you? He hardly looked at you when y’all were together, he wouldn’t notice you now!

…Right…?

“Love…” Fuck, did he-? “Don’t think you can run from me…”

The hand that snakes around your bicep is familiar, and even more so when his other hand wraps around your tummy, pulling and kneading at the soft flesh. He pins you against the concrete wall of the large building, cocoa brown eyes boring into your own.

“Don’t you d—“ The threat dies on your tongue when he presses against your pulse point. It isn’t fair, it really isn’t. He’s always known how to shut you up. It should irritate you — and it does, to a degree.

“I don’t see another man on you…” Simon defends, breathing hot and warm against your neck. “Not over me, love?” The growl that slips through your lips has every intent to be aggressive, but just sounds downright sinful to him. He craves more. More of your sounds, your body, your skin, your scent — everything. He wants more.

He’s not over you. And he knows you ain’t either…

“Simon!” You hiss, eyes dark with anger and hands grasping at his sweatshirt with a vice grip. “If you don’t leave right this moment…!”

He raises a brow, “What? You’ll what? You want me, love. I can hear it…”

He can. He’s known every sound you’ve ever made, every emotion you’ve ever expressed. Of course he can tell when the barest hint of arousal has begun to seep into your every word, into your very being.

He purrs at the way your eyes fall glassy, almost trance-like. Try as you might, his words are true — he’s the best, worst ex you’ve ever had. He may be detached emotionally at times, but he knows his way around your body. And he knows your every little quirk.

“So tell me, love… do you miss me?” His hand has worked its way up from your bicep and to your jaw, grasping and squishing just slightly. His other hand words at the flesh of your waist, slowly grasping those thick love handles and smoothing over those curvy hip dips. “God… I missed you, love…”

You groan internally, but the only thing that falls from your lips is a deep growl. You push yourself up just enough to force your mouth against his, moaning at the familiar taste.

Simon lets his hands drop low, focusing on grasping your hips and tugging you closer. He has to. He needs you. He needs you now. And he’s gonna get it, one way or another.

Not like you’d fight him.

He may be your ex, but fuck if he hasn’t been your best.

“Si—“ You gasp out between breaths, moaning when he presses his thigh between yours. “Simon…!”

You aren’t quite sure what you’re asking for. To be honest, you never really knew when you were with him. But fuck if you don’t want this. Or, fuck, because you do want this.

“I know, love, shhh…” Simon smoothes out your hair, scratching your scalp before dropping his hand back down and pulling you in for a searing kiss. “No one’s kissed you half as good, huh…?”

Try as you might to argue, the moment his tongue slips past those pretty pink lips, you’re a goner.

He moans into the kiss as you squirm, pressing his chest against your plush, warm, sweet mounds. He loves every part of you — craves it, even. So much flesh to grab, so much flesh to love.

Simon purrs in your ear a moment, taking time to gasp. But he doesn’t leave you lonely, occupying your mind instead with his thigh. “C’mon, love, I gotcha…”

His mouth finds its way back to yours, savoring every sweet taste. He swallows your moans whole, desperate to feel every ounce of your pleasure just to give you more. Simon’s only goal at this very moment is to feel you quake and squirm, to see you flushed and pretty.

“You need me, love, don’t you? Need me, crave me, beg for me…” he purrs, each kiss becoming more and more fervent, more and more lustful and needy. “Can’t get enough of my kisses or my touch… just need me, don’t you... need me like a hound needs blood… can’t live without me, can you? No one else can do it better than me…”

He pulls your hips closer to his thigh, taking time to lap at every smooth edge of your mouth. He glides his tongue along yours, the languid motion easy and practiced.

He lets the excess spit slip down both of y’alls jaws, entirely uncaring of the mess. He just needs to taste every part of your lips — even in the front of a rather busy mall.

“Simon!” You gasp, pushing on his shoulder a little. It’s not like you want it to end, but the thought of being so public did make you a little nervous. After all, if your friends saw you making out with an ex you promised to never repeat, they’d be… disappointed. “Fuck, please… not… not here…”

“No? Not now?” He squishes the flesh of your tummy, yanking your bulky hips close to his taut ones. His hands work their way down to the curve of your thick ass, grasping you through the loose and oversized tee that covers the sweet skin. “Gimme a chance, love… You know no one else has ever—“

You give him a firm push, using your body mass as assistance. He stumbles back, but it’s only because he lets you, something you’re painfully aware of.

“Just! Not now… not… not now…” Your voice falls quiet with emotion, shaking your head as you quickly walk past him.

You wrap your arms tightly around the bag of clothes you had intended to return, quickly making your way back to the car.

Not now… Not so soon after… Not…

Not with empty promises…

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x you

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Five: Somewhere in the Crowd There’s You

a/n: here’s chapter five of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. we are half way now and things will be heating up in the next few chapters, haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

“You sent too much money.”

It’s your father’s voice that spills down the other line. Gruff in a way that alerts you your fears aren’t for naught, as he’s likely had many sleepless nights since the last you spoke. You recall days as a child, when your mother had been sick, and your father would stay awake all hours of the night, if only to clean up the house so she didn’t have to. To make sure that her worries were only meant to be on getting better and resting.

“I…have a business and it’s going well,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip.

Across the room, Steve’s fluffing pillows and putting a champagne bottle on ice. Your guests will be here soon, likely within the next few minutes, though when your father’s name flashed across your screen you knew you needed to answer.

“Only a few clients now, but I’m hopeful I’ll pick up more,” you continue, exhaling deeply. “I want you to have it. I know Caroline mentioned needing new shoes. Please let me do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, okay. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Clinical year at school, newly married, and now a businesswoman. How is my son-in-law?”

“He’s…”

Steve rushes into the kitchen where you’re standing, hands curling around either of your hips to shift you away from the refrigerator so he can pull out the charcuterie board you had commissioned for the evening’s gathering.

“He’s really great. He’s been busy since we got back from our honeymoon, but he’s doing really well.”

Ever since your moment days ago in the kitchen, after Steve had pushed aside picking you up and opted to send Hopper in his stead, your relationship has taken new form. True to his word, Steve started a new habit of not answering his phone after you're done with your clinicals for the evening. Afternoons now had been spent watching your shows together on nights you didn’t have prior engagements with his coworkers, merely existing in the same room together, becoming…friends.

Literal friends, in the truest sense of the word. And it’s more than you can ask for, though you can’t lie that even the slightest touches leave you a little breathless. There’s also the kisses to the back of your hand at dinner, the way he curls his palm around the top of your thigh while his coworkers regale a particularly interesting story, the lingering press of his mouth against your forehead when he’s feeling especially doting in mixed company.

Progress.

You’re making progress.

“I actually should go and help him. We have company this afternoon. His cousin and wife are visiting us for the first time since the wedding. Still getting used to hosting gatherings as a couple, you know?” There’s a chuckle on the other end, and you know him well enough to imagine the slow shake of his head. “I love you so much and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

The line clicks, leaving you to witness Steve elbow deep in the sink, washing your coffee mugs from earlier that morning. Your eyes slide to the perfectly operational dishwasher on his right side, though you can’t deny that the sight of your husband, bare arms shifting and moving as he works, is a lovely one. None the wiser of your ogling, you step forward to him, elbow leaning down against the counter.

“You know, the dishwasher is empty,” you point out.

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning a few dishes,” he grouses, rinsing a cup and settling it in the drying rack. “I also need to keep moving. Getting antsy now that they’re running late.”

“Hey, Steve?” You step closer, your front brushing his hip. He shakes his head as you do so, a laugh breaking free from his mouth as you grip his arms and still him in his frantic movements. “Put the sponge down. And the plate. The fork, too.”

The three items plunk down into the sink, a loud clatter in your otherwise silent home. Fingers curl around a hand towel and he reaches over to grasp his wedding ring, pushing it back into place against his knuckle. One thing you’ve found, and you particularly enjoy, is the fact Steve’s never taken off his ring. Not once. Even under the false pretenses of marriage, seeing him wearing a symbol of your union, of the vows you shared some time ago now, erupts dozens of bees into your bloodstream. Humming, buzzing, igniting your every nerve ending with electricity.

“Are you okay,” you ask, hand coming to rest against his back.

It’s the softest brush, and yet he turns his head all the same, hazel eyes meeting yours, and then trailing up the inside of your arm to where you’re touching.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says unconvincingly, shifting to face you now. That arm drops as he does so, but is replaced by his two large hands cupping your biceps. “Just want to get through this afternoon and then I’ll be much happier.”

Your mouth opens to speak, to ask him why the stress over this afternoon, when his phone rings and the doorman lets him know Theobald and Cami have finally arrived. It’s not the first time you’ve met them. The first had been at your wedding, where introductions to most of Steve’s friends and extended family were done so in a rapid fire manner. They’d been kind enough; as much as one can be in a two minute conversation wherein you welcomed them and thanked them for coming to celebrate your “special day” with the love of your life.

But now, seeing them there in the flesh, brought a new wave of nervousness into your belly. Theobald Cletus, with his dark hair that resembles Steve’s, with tan skin and the beginnings of wrinkles that crease his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. And beside him, his stunning wife with silky red curls that fell to her waist in ringlets, delicately freckled cheeks, and impossibly green eyes. Ethereal—she looked ethereal and, by your guessing, quite a bit younger than her husband standing with a hand against the smallest point of her back.

As your mouth opens to speak and welcome them into your home, Cami rushes forward, curling her arms around your shoulders in a frighteningly tight hug that has you wincing and peering over your shoulder to your husband. Steve only shrugs as he steps forward and cups his hand around his cousin’s, only to be tugged forward into a hug of his own.

“Theobald, you’ve met my wife,” Steve finally says once you’ve managed to extract yourself from Cami long enough to sidle back up to him, his arm settling around your waist, palm curling affectionately around your hip. One of the appropriate touches you’ve discussed, and yet it has your head spinning all the same.

Just as it does every time.

“Ah, yes.” His eyes flicker to yours. Darker than your husband’s, corners twitching as his lips curl into a smile. “The new Mrs. Harrington. How could I forget that whirlwind affair?”

Head dipping uncomfortably, you press your palm against Steve’s where it rests against your hip, sliding your fingers between his to lace them tight. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Awkwardly laughing, you turn to look to Steve for support. “Should we take this into the living room?”

“Please!” Cami exclaims, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “I would love to hear all about the honeymoon. I want all the details. Should we be expecting any little Harringtons soon?”

Just as you say, “Absolutely not,” Theobald echoes, “My cousin loves kids. Always wanted a brood of them.”

It’s expected, you think. It’s a common question after marriage, no matter how inappropriate. Society says once you’re married you’re to obviously have children next. Frankly, it’s archaic and a ridiculous practice. And even so, Theobald’s words strike a sudden sadness into your chest. This thought that Steve so deeply wants children. A thought you could completely see come to fruition based on his interactions with El and Will alone. They’d been immediately endeared to him. All wide eyes and bright laughter, vibrant conversation, his endless bantering with them.

Steve Harrington would be a good father to his future children one day with his real wife. Not the woman you are to him for the next three years.

However, it’s at this moment you rationalize the error in your plans. A real couple would have had these conversations about future children already.

“Not now, at least,” you giggle airily, curling your arm around Steve’s and tugging him close. His brows furrow as you add, “Right now I’m just enjoying spending time with my husband. I want to be a little selfish for a while yet.”

“Understandable,” Cami agrees, settling down on your living room couch, crossing her legs and revealing a stunning pair of Gucci pumps that likely cost your half of the rent while still living with Robin. “I love our two little gremlins, but they take up all our free time. Constantly running them around to school events, dance classes, sporting events.”

“Sweetheart, the au pair does all of that,” Theobald chuckles, earning a whack in the arm from his wife. “Enough about that. Tell me…how did you two meet? It all happened so fast.”

“As you already pointed out,” Steve warns, hand around yours growing tighter.

Cami moves to open the champagne bottle, easing the tension in the room with the echoing pop. Glasses are poured and passed around the table, glasses coming together in a soft ‘cheers’ before you bring the champagne flute to your lips and take a large swallow. Bubbles burst against your tongue, eyes training on Theobald’s, just as he passes a look your way.

A battle of wills then, you think.

“We met at a party,” you begin, removing your hand from Steve's and gripping the bottom of his chin, shifting him enough that he’s looking at you. “We’d known each other for a bit through our mutual friend, and we’d always kind of danced around one another. In the same spaces always, yet too nervous to make the first move.”

Steve watches you carefully as you weave your tale that isn’t really a tale. It’s mostly the truth, with the romance added in. But it comes naturally. Pours out of you with an unexpected ease that has Cami leaning into her husband’s shoulder, green eyes twinkling as you speak.

“And then one afternoon, Stevie bought me a drink and walked it over to where I was standing by myself. My friend had just left to use the restroom, and here he stood…all tall, dark, and handsome. We started talking that night and just realized how easy it was to be around one another. I’d never talked so much on a first date, and yeah—I considered that our first date. After that we spent nearly every day together. It didn’t take long for us both to realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Some might think it was rushed, but there’s that saying, right? When you know, you know. And with my school starting up again, and us wanting so badly to get married, we thought no time like the present. Now here we are.”

For emphasis, you lean forward. Close enough that Steve’s eyes cross, his mouth dropping a hint at the corners, before twitching upward when your lips press against the corner of his mouth. A tentative press of your skin just barely against his. You linger with your forehead against his, trying not to focus on the temperature in the room, or how it feels it’s creeping higher and higher with every passing moment you remain connected to him.

“Here we are,” Steve echoes, breath fanning against your bottom lip.

Were you to even move an inch, your mouths would connect. A thought he must have as well, because he brings his thumb up and taps your bottom lip gently, nuzzling your nose until you hear the excitable clapping of Cami’s hands where she’s sitting on the living room touch. Pushing the hem of your summer dress down back around your knees, you shift and take in the older man sitting across from you. His eyes are narrowed on your face, a twitch not unnoticed in his cheek as he jolts to his feet and suggests Steve and him have a little bit of time as ‘cousins’ on the private patio. Noticing your hesitance at him leaving your side, Steve brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead, pours you another glass of champagne, and promises he’ll be right back.

With the door closed and the men left to their own devices, you look over to Cami. Cami, the picture of beauty. An image of a woman who walks in this world of the elites and has no qualms about it; steps into it and commands it, whereas you’re still walking around on wobbly legs like a baby deer. Even her clothes look like they were made for her. Luxurious fabrics that ebb and flow with her every movement, high neck of her summer dress leading to a gorgeous diamond necklace falling to the hollow of her throat.

Across from her, your dress suddenly feels too tight. Gifted by your mother-in-law who insisted she owned her own fashion line, and therefore absolutely must dress her only daughter. A quick phone call wherein you protested her suggestions ended with a ring from the doorman alerting you a delivery of multiple garments had arrived for you. Various dresses for each occasion, pants, shoes, blouses and anything you could imagine ever needing were added to your closet. All elaborate in design, and becoming for a new wife to the CEO of a major contracting company. The biggest the city touted, if you were completely honest with yourself.

Today you wore an off the shoulder floral patterned dress and the diamond earrings gifted by your mother-in-law as a bridal shower gift. You’d pushed aside the thought of heels for the afternoon; instead opted for a comfy pair of sandals that were maybe in their last season of use, but now they only looked garish in the light beside the Gucci pumps on Cami’s feet.

Comparison, this ugly weed of a thing, grew up within you against your better wishes. Robbed you of what little air fell in and out of your lungs as you sat there, sipping your champagne. You didn’t care for these preconceived ideas of what a Harrington wife should look like, right? You were your own person, had been long before him, and would continue to be so after him. Yet sitting there, watching her gracefully move about the room, and commenting on the pictures you’d added from the wedding, reminds you of how some people were meant for this life. Some people were raised for it.

You were not.

“He looks so in love with you,” Cami trills, fingers running along the silver edge of your photo frame, lifting it nearer to her face for inspection. You know exactly which one it is. Jonathan had told the two of you to look one another in the eyes and press your foreheads together. He’d draped your veil over the both of you, the setting sun basking you both in a golden hour halo. It’s dreamy. A shot so dreamy it’s easy to believe it is of a man deeply in love with his bride. “That new love look. Cherish it. You know how these Harrington men are.”

Actually…you don’t.

You’re not interested in even asking her what she intends by her words, but when she places the photo back down and turns your way, there’s a glimmer of something wet on her lower lashes. Awkwardly, you clear your throat, reaching over and offering to refill her glass. She heartily accepts, fingers combing through long amber locks as she settles back down on the couch across from you, crossing her legs once more. Again, she’s the statuesque image of perfection; cracks visible in her foundation, yet devastatingly beautiful all the same.

“You’ve got the best one,” she sniffles, grasping a piece of cheese and a cracker within her index and pointer. “Stevie is a sweetheart. Always has been. Theobald is hard on him, and I always try to tell him to ease up. The late Mr. Harrington was always so rough on his son as it is without Theo breathing down his neck.”

The late Mr. Harrington.

You knew very little of him. From what you’ve gathered—the very scraps of things here and there, as Steve never really mentioned him—their relationship, while his father had been alive, was a strained one. His parents had him later in life; a quick Google search would show as much. The heir to the company born with a silver platter before him, wanting for naught, pushed into the limelight.

Still, hearing Cami talk about Steve…with pity—grief tightens like a vice around your heart. Envisioning those hazel eyes of your husband, staring up expectantly at a man who never saw his son’s achievements for what they were. And now, at his young age, trying to make his late father proud at the expense of his own self.

Long hours, constant meetings, coaching calls. Pushing, striving, hustling.

With a long sigh, you glance toward the outside patio, where you can see your husband with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His left hand curls around the stem of his glass, hand gesticulating wildly in the air as he talks with Theobald, hair in disarray. Like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Eyes trail his shoulders next, along the contours of sinewy muscle, then further up where you can visibly see the rigidity in his form.

“Steve is…”

Your voice breaks, eyes tipping downward to your bubbly drink in hand. Cami’s fingers curl around your wrist, a sympathetic frown lining her pristine features, and you know she’s thinking you’re caught up in your emotions. But in reality, it’s because there are so many things he is, all of which swirl like a muddied mess in your hazy mind.

“Steve is a good man. He’s the best man. I’m really lucky to have him.”

When you glance up, there he is, grin gracing his features. It’s plain as day he’s heard you; those stiff shoulders slacken. Tension eases from the curve of his mouth, as well as in the grip of his fingers around his glass. Instead his face morphs into elation, feet carrying him over to where you sit so he can once more slide an arm around your waist and tug you close.

Theobald regards you carefully in the distance, taking in the way you slide into the crook of your husband’s chest, seeking the warmth of him. The comfort of someone in your corner, seated in a room ripe with scrutiny.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers against your ear, just as Cami dives into conversation about her and Theo’s children, revealing photo after photo of their adorable faces on her iPhone screen.

“We’re the Harringtons, aren’t we?”

He chuckles brightly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Day shifts into evening.

Conversations drift around lighter topics. Talks of your schooling, your plans for the future, the business you’ve started. A fact which, to your unamusement, Theobald finds more than mildly intriguing when he later corners you in the kitchen as Steve and Cami flip through the photos she had taken at the wedding on her phone (despite Steve’s pitying gazes for you to rescue him). Instead, you’d offered to start cleaning up, knowing your husband and you had dinner plans with another couple from the office.

“A dog walking business…” He mutters, elbow dropping down onto the counter. “How quaint.”

“It’s extra money,” you say simply, placing a watery glass into the drying rack. “You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Isn’t it better to make all my money now while I’m younger?”

“That I am. And I would agree,” he murmurs, eyes trailing your profile. “It’s just curious since you know how wealthy your husband is. He’s CEO of the company now, and that’s not even counting the hefty inheritance he got as the sole Harrington son. That kind of money is generational. He could never work another day in his life and be well off.”

“My husband is supportive of my endeavors,” you grumble out, training your eyes on the kitchen backsplash.

“Obviously,” he agrees goodnaturedly. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. All of a sudden our hard working golden child is leaving the office at normal times, running home to his lovely wife. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Heat flashes like lava in your gut over the revelation that your ruse is working. It’s hindered by Theobald’s latter statement, mind stuttering over his blasé persona. The question as to whether or not Steve knows what he’s doing. Trying to hide your piqued interest, you harden your expression into one of neutrality.

As your mouth opens to speak, Cami cuts you off with a shrill, “Theobald, they have to get ready for their dinner. We’ve overstayed our welcome. But I would absolutely love for us to do this again!”

Uncertain if you’re happy or sad about this latest development because you still needed further clarity over Theo’s words, you place the remaining glasses into the drying rack and slide your rings back into place, pressing yourself into Steve’s side as he approaches. For a dramatic flair, you even press your left hand to his abdomen, rings glinting in the light, head leaning against his chest as you wish them a wonderful rest of their evening.

Theobald gives you one last fleeting look just when his wife nearly strangles you in another bear hug, and claps a hand against his younger cousin’s shoulder. “We will definitely have to do this again. It was nice officially meeting you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The doors slide closed and a sigh spills from your lips. Against you, Steve relaxes, hand rubbing up and down the length of your spine idly, eyes still fixed on the doors across from him. Slipping away from him, you quickly gather the rest of the snacks and glasses from the living room table and drop them down into the sink, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Is he always like that?” You wonder out loud, whirling around to face Steve.

His head jerks at your words, mouth pulling southward. The solidness of his right hip rests against the kitchen counter. You try to not dawdle on the way his bicep twitches as it rests on the surface beside him, nor as his fingers sprawl around the base of his jaw, keeping his head propped up.

“He’s usually worse,” he admits. “What did he say to you?”

“Just commented on my business,” you tell him, deciding to ease in with that before asking what his cousin had meant by ‘hoping Steve knows what he’s doing’, moving to place a plate in the drying rack. “He couldn’t seem to fathom how I would resort to the life of a peasant, when I should be rolling around in your endless buckets of money.”

Snorting, he teases, “Someone’s angry.”

“Yeah, and for once not at you, so I’d be thankful.” Your nose wrinkles as he barks out a laugh, head tipping back in his glee. Mirth bubbles up within your belly at the lyrical sound spilling from your husband, the way his cheeks stretch wide on his face, how the corners of his eyes crinkle in his happiness. “I told him I liked what I do. Is that so wrong? I like having my own thing. Just like you have your own thing.”

Without a warning, he turns the water off. Grips your shoulders lightly, turning you to him. “Theo is an entitled idiot, okay? He thinks he runs the company and the world, and anyone who doesn’t live like him is beneath him. Notice how he’s got this constant look on his face of disgust?”

At that, your lips twitch. Steve coaxes it further by shaking you slightly, earning a giggle. “He does kind of look like he hates everyone around him. It’s a wonder he married Cami. She seems sweet.”

“She is sweet. A saint for putting up with him for all these years, honestly,” Steve says, giving you one last shake until you’re wiping your hands off and slouching against his frame. “What?”

“I want a selfish hug,” you grumble against his shirt, face pressing into a sternum.

“A selfish hug?” You can hear the questioning lilt, the probing in his kind voice.

Nodding, you step closer. The tips of your sandals meet his leather shoes, hem of your dress spilling over the dark material. Your head shifts just the slightest, ear resting over the curve of his chest, relishing in the warmth of another body. This. Hugging? It’s not new. You’ve been practicing. As odd as that sounds, and though you don’t want to unpack it, since your argument with Steve he’s come home every day and greeted you with one. You’d say you’re pros at this point.

“And what might a selfish hug be?” He muses, hands coming up to rest against the center of your back.

“I just stand like this,” you begin, dropping your arms to your sides, letting them dangle at your hips. “And you hold me.”

You can feel the vibration of his laugh against your ear, but his arms tighten around you all the same, holding you in place. Melting into him, you rest in the comfort of his embrace. Merely focus on the sound of his breath pouring in and out of his lungs, the gentle beat of his heart beneath your ear, the brush of his thumb against your skin, soothing you.

“You’re too much,” he says, but there’s no weight behind the words. Can feel his mouth curling upward against your ear.

“Thanks, Steve.”

For the evening. For helping you in a time of need. For holding you now. For holding you tomorrow. You’re not really sure you know what you mean. But all you do know for certain is that, when his arms tug you closer, you loop yours around his waist, and your selfish hug becomes a real one.

Lightning streaks the sky. Bright white illuminates your bedroom, then settles into dark once more. A loud boom echoes, rattling the foundations of your home. Jolts your bed, and thus your body out of it. Grasping at your chest, you try to tamper the frantic rise and fall. The rush of breath forcing itself in and out of your screaming lungs, ejected from your dreams into waking so suddenly.

Another flash sparks your room in a moonlit glow. Falls dark a second later as you brace for the crack of sound that pierces your ears after. Groaning, you grasp the edge of a fluffy blanket on the foot of your bed and curl it around your shoulders, padding through your home in search of the living room, sights set on watching Netflix until you fall back asleep from reruns of your favorite shows.

Only upon entering, you find you’re not alone. Already doused in colorful light from the episode of New Girl playing on the screen is none other than your husband. Where you’re standing you can see the frames of the thin glasses he wears, the unkempt bed hair at the top of his head, the hoodie pulled over his body to block out the air conditioned chill in the living room.

“You’re awake…” It comes out hoarse, the rasp of your voice drawing your husband’s attention. “And you’re watching without me?”

The mock gasp has him moving over on the couch to make space for you, your rear dropping down into the couch cushion beside him. There’s another blanket across his lap, impossibly soft and a pretty navy color that pops against the pale fabric of your carpet. Getting comfortable, you unloop yours from around your shoulders and drape it across your bare thighs, sleep shorts doing very little to block out the chill in the air. Once satisfied, you lean back and watch the chaos between Jess and Nick unfolding on the television screen.

“What are you doing awake?” you ask after some time. Wince as another boom of thunder rattles the walls of your home.

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, breaking off into a yawn. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“From dinner or…?”

Dinner itself hadn’t been stressful—at least nothing that occurred would have alluded to as much. You’d met up at an Italian restaurant with a business partner of Steve’s and the business partner’s husband. Two older men in their fifties, with graying hair and a kindness that radiated from them. Most of the conversation had been of things outside of work, so you’re uncertain as to what might be bothering him.

“Not dinner,” he confirms, pausing the show on the TV screen. His head rolls back to rest against the plush cushion, hands coming up to press into his face. Slides his palm down the contours, exhaling deeply. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you mutter softly, picking at a nonexistent thread on the edge of your blanket. “That’s fine. I just figured—”

“It’s nothing personal toward you. I just don’t want to bother you with it. Why are you up?” He queries, head turning to look in your direction.

“You never bother me.”

Steve levels you with a blank stare and you laugh. “I’m not afraid of thunder…but it definitely woke me,” you admit quietly, sounding more than a forlorn without meaning to. “My room gets really dark at night with the curtains, so when it lit up from the lightning I was a little spooked.”

“Understandably,” he says. “Want me to grab you coffee or tea or something?”

Head perking up, you ask, “Do we still have the camomile? If it’s no trouble, I mean…”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was,” he says, but there’s no hint of any condescension there, only his increasingly familiar thoughtfulness.

You lean your chin over the top of the couch to catch the retreating form of Steve’s back swathed in his dark hoodie. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, starting up your warm drink. “Want anything else? We still have those chocolate covered strawberries from dinner.”

“Do you want the chocolate strawberries from dinner?”

His grin turns wry. “Maybe.”

“Bring them over, you grown up baby,” you tease, extending a hand so he can place the covered plate in your awaiting palm.

Peeling back the tinfoil, you rest the tray on the coffee table, hiking your blanket higher around your thighs. Steve’s pouring hot water into a mug that says ‘Future Veterinarian,’ humming a familiar tune as he works.

“You usually do honey and…a bucket load of sugar, right?”

Eyes roll. “I like a spoonful of honey in my camomile and nothing else. The sugar is for my iced coffees, thank you very much. Also thank you for making sure Hopper always has it on standby lately.”

“What’s that thing you said to me when we first talked about us getting married?” He taps his chin mock thoughtfully, his other hand twirling a spoon around the inside of your cup. “Happy wife, happy life starts with always knowing her coffee order.”

It’s true, and you hide your lips behind your palm at the realization he’d been listening as he crosses the space between you and rests the steaming mug in your hand, muttering quickly, “Be careful, it’s really hot.”

“Thank you,” you say as he drops back down into the couch and plucks a chocolate covered strawberry off the tray. “I know you didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you…but I figure…I don’t know. It’s storming out, we’re both not getting much sleep tonight, we could play a game or something.”

“A game?”

Nodding, you add, “An icebreaker. I know we talk more now, but we could try and get to know each other better. A little look into the person we married.”

Your husband shifts on the couch beside you. Presses his back into the arm rest and stretches out, arching a brow pointedly. Smirking, you do the same. Shift just enough so your back is up against the opposite end, your socked feet just barely brushing Steve’s.

“Okay. Night out or night in?” you ask.

“Before…night out.”

“Before?”

“Well, now you force me to watch Gilmore Girls.”

“I don’t force you! And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure it’s an absolute horror of spending time with the woman you fake married,” you gasp, feigning terror. “Just admit it. You like spending time at home.”

His eyes are set on yours as he says, “I like spending time at home.”

“I’d agree for myself as well. Life is so busy as it is lately, it’s nice having a space to come back to.”

One thing you’re very grateful for on a growing list is the space your new bedroom has given you. Sure, it can get lonely, but it’s an escape from the long days, a haven from stress, a bed to crawl back to when your eyes can hardly stay open any longer after a particularly hard day at clinicals.

“My turn,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his middle. And no, you don’t allow heat to crawl across your chest at the mere sight of his chest and arms flexing from the motion. “Would you rather go forward or backward in time?”

“And what would be my purpose of going forward or backward? Am I rectifying my mistakes? Seeing the future? Looking to see how my life pans out?”

“I…it’s whatever you want it to be.” He blanches.

“I don’t really have a lot of regrets in life. I make a choice and however the cookie crumbles is how it crumbles. Exhibit A,” you say, holding aloft your left hand, where two rings glint in the dim living room. “So I probably would want to go forward. But that’s dangerous, because if you go too far forward, you might see things you don’t like. I definitely wouldn’t want to know how I, uh, you know? Check out of here. What about you?”

Steve pauses for a moment, brows drawn in thought. “Honestly? There are things I’d want to change about the past, sure. But I think I’d want to see the future. See if all I’m doing is worth it, you know?”

“You don’t think what you’re doing right now is worth it?” You wonder if he’s talking about the business. Assume he must be, but don’t press any further.

“I wonder sometimes, yeah,” he admits.

“Well, what would you be doing if it weren’t what you’re doing right now? To see if something else would potentially be worth it.”

He rubs a hand along his neck, shrugging. “I thought about being a teacher once. My dad thought that was a silly idea. But I’ve always been good with children, and I think I could have been good at that.”

“You are good with children,” you tell him, thinking to Will and El. To the friends you’d met at dinner in the past weeks who brought their little ones. “I don’t think that’s a silly idea at all. Not in the slightest, and I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way. Like your interests were inconsequential.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Movie night or date night?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes grow wide at that. Cheeks darken visibly in the moonlit living room. “I’m teasing you, Harrington. I think there’s a case that those can be one in the same. I would say broader…I love the idea of going out for a date, but I love those inside sort of dates more. They’re more intimate, there’s the comfort of your shared spaces, the fact there aren’t any crowds around you. Only that important quality time with your partner.”

“I don’t have much to contribute there, seeing as I haven’t dated much in the past year. And now I won’t be for another three years.” He chuckles, combing fingers through his hair.

“Okay, this question is super serious.” You fold your hands across your midsection, inhaling deeply, eyes shut. “Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?”

“Seriously!”

“I’m very serious, Steve.”

“Extra toe.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again, wincing slightly as he presses into a spot between his shoulder blades.

Your lips tug southward. “Are you hurting?”

“Just my office chair, I’m sure,” he grumbles, nonchalant.

“Get on the floor.”

His brows arch. “Huh?”

“On the floor,” you repeat, tapping the space in front of you on the carpet below. “In front of me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, long limbs slip off the edge of the couch and settle down where you’ve asked. You move to tuck his hoodie in as best as you can, fingers moving to spread across the slope of his shoulders. He exhales deeply at the first press of your hands in the muscle wrought with tension. A low sigh spills free, head tipping back to rest on the cushion nearest to your knee. Fingers crave to brush the hair along his scalp, to see if he’ll make that same, soft sigh once more. But instead you continue, pressing slowly into his flesh, listening to his cues, figuring out what works and doesn’t.

“Would you rather have a big family or a small one?” You ask after Steve has gone quiet, thinking back briefly to the moment earlier with Theobald and Cami.

Steve, with his wishes to be a father. Steve, who wants a huge brood of Harrington babies. Steve, who wants a family.

And yet it’s not even that. Not the questions as to what he sees for his future. It’s the tangible worry of slipping up in your facade. Of revealing too many cracks in the foundations of your dynamics. That had been the first, and you know if this relationship is going to hold up for three years, communication is a must. Absolute transparency at all times, so as to not muck it all up and land yourselves both in some hot water.

“Growing up, it was just me. My parents had me a little older in their life. They were already further into their careers by the time I was born. So…it was often just the au pair and myself,” he explains, letting go of another deep breath.

His body slackens against your knee caps. Warm flesh of your husband pliant beneath your fingertips.

“I always had this dream of giving my kids the opposite of what I had. Always knowing love, family outings, doing everything with them. Dance class, football, acting—whatever they wanted. And I’d wanted as many as possible. A silly dream of six of them, running all over the world together as a family.”

“It’s not a silly dream. None of your dreams are ever silly, Steve.”

Warmth pools as Steve slides his hand up and covers yours where it rests against his shoulder. Heart stuttering, you continue, “Your family will be lucky to have you some day. I, for one, haven’t given much thought to that aspect of life. I hope Theo and Cami didn’t find that suspect. I just…”

“Have been busy with school. You’re becoming a doctor, that’s time and hard work. No one can fault you for that.”

“Right. Yeah.”

You resume your kneading, fingers stroking at shoulders, down the sides of his neck, attentive to all the tension. He grows softer beneath your fingertips, head against your knee, his eyes closed. Where you’re sitting you can see the moles on his face, the length of his lashes, the lines of his nose. Pretty. He’s pretty, and it’s always something you’ve known, but being so close—

“Sunrise or sunset,” Steve asks.

“Hmm, sunrise.” You poke at the middle of his forehead, and hazel eyes meet yours. “That one was simple.”

“I could tell you were overthinking,” he says simply. “We’re not going to be perfect at this marriage thing. But no one expects us to be.”

“I still think we need to get our stories straight at the very least. And I sorta messed that one up with the honeymoon baby thing.” You shrug, palms sliding down a bit onto his upper chest. He’s still sitting there, taking you in with his stare, hand around yours. “Kind of why I suggested this game.”

He offers you a gentle smile, saying, “Then let’s keep going.”

The conversation continues until the sun begins to change colors. Until the rain has since stopped, voices carrying above the television playing low in the background. You learn Steve’s a romantic; loves movies like the Titanic and The Notebook. And will also admit to enjoying some of the same romantic comedies you do.

He prefers rainy days, because he enjoys the respite they give from a constantly busy city just outside the walls of your home. He’d rather have happiness than wealth; enjoys chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven for dessert (and you make a note to pick up some stuff to make them on your next planned night together); he’d never had any pets growing up, but he’d love a dog.

And you tell him about yourself. How you love cozy socks and would prefer scrubs over real clothes; how you also never had pets growing up and would love to adopt and foster as many as possible one day; how you enjoyed fantasy over romantic movies; how you’d watched Titanic about a hundred times in your life and you still cried.

How you wanted to watch it with him next, and he agreed, stating it would be the next thing you do when you cook together.

Before long he’s yawning and your eyes are closing. His fingers remain around yours as you knead his muscles, prattling on about your plans for the week, school, your friends. And he talks about his own schedule, his meetings, proposes dinner for the both of you that upcoming Saturday. A cooked meal in, with a movie and some wine. Maybe you tease him a little, because he makes it easy when he blushes that pretty pink, and maybe he grins up at you fondly, eyes hooded in his sleepy daze.

Eventually, you lay on your side and he remains in front of you on the floor. You’re hardly awake as he drapes a blanket over your form and tucks a pillow under your head, whispering to one another as the sun starts to come up over the city.

Eventually, both of you fall silent at last, comforting sleep there to find you.

“I want to make it very clear before we go in there that we are not getting a dog. We are donating all the things we bought earlier, and then we are going home and having dinner together,” Steve reiterates for the umpteenth time that day.

“We are not getting a dog,” you repeat, mock stonily, looking your husband dead in the eyes.

Clearly unamused, he shoves at the arm you have jokingly curled around his forearm, but there’s no malice there. Only a gentle huff of laughter as he opens his car door and rushes around the other side to help you out. You never need him to, but he insists every time. Even offers an arm for you to grab as you hop onto the sidewalk. Once back on solid land, summer dress dancing around your kneecaps, Steve walks around to the back of the car and lifts the box of pet food, blankets and toys you’d picked up while at the pet store. Today, you decided, you wanted to give back to the local shelter in your new town.

And maybe you had an ulterior motive of trying to realize a dream of your husband’s by making him fall in love with a shelter dog in a way where his only option is to bring them home to live with you forever. But he’s been adamant all morning—so certain today’s events will not lead to four legs becoming part of your odd little family.

Inside, you’re greeted by one of the workers. A woman named Chelsea rushes around the counter to collect your donations and asks if you’d like to walk around a bit. Steve’s reluctant at your side, sunglasses peeled off and tucked into the neck of his shirt, but he comes along all the same as you grip his palm within your own and drag him along behind you.

You pass dozens of kittens and cats. Young and old all alike as you go. Some who meow as you pass, and others who linger in dark corners of their confines. It breaks your heart seeing so many, wanting to adopt them all, knowing you’re unable to. Sensing your unease, Steve squeezes your hand tighter and listens for the both of you while Chelsea speaks and your mind wanders.

“Down here are all our adoptable dogs.”

It’s a sight you never get used to. Dogs barking as you pass, bodies brushing against their cages, yearning for attention. You linger by Chelsea as you walk, rubbing noses and ears and backs. Tongues glide over your palm, wet noses brush your skin, dark eyes hold yours through metal bars. Somewhere in the midst of introducing yourself to all your newest furry friends, you find Steve’s hand is no longer in yours. Turning on the heel, you find him crouched low to the ground, fingers curled inside metal bars, softly speaking to the animal hidden within.

“Oh,” Chelsea mutters, shock evident in her tone. Steve looks up to her imploringly, then glances back at the dog inside. “That’s a new arrival. A ten month old male Bernedoodle. He’s a black tricolor puppy. His previous owners got him as a gift, and turned him over when he started getting bigger. They’re a smaller breed, but have a lot of energy and unfortunately you see a lot of this happening. People buy luxury pets and drop them off when they become too much. He’s been very timid since he arrived.”

“He just lost his family,” Steve says to no one, swallowing thickly. The woman at your side doesn’t speak, only watches as your husband continues to gently coax the puppy forward. “Hey buddy. I’m Steve. Wanna come over here? No?”

“Should we…” the woman beside you begins.

“Yeah, let’s give them a moment,” you mutter, a little breathless as you turn around and face the other direction, quiet footsteps carrying you further away.

But you still hear it.

Still hear Steve’s voice in your ears. A sad, “I know what it’s like. Feeling left behind, left alone. Especially from the people you want to love you most. But you don’t need to be afraid of me. I get it.”

There’s an echo of soft paws padding against a tiled floor. And the soft exhale from Steve. “There you go. See, I’m your friend. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

And when you and the shelter worker turn around, you find Steve with his fingers in the puppy’s fur, that pink tongue of his brushing over the inside of your husband’s wrist. That resolve in Steve’s eyes crumbles, your heart shattering along with it as you press the heel of your palm to your sternum.

He turns to Chelsea and asks, “Can we take him out? Just for a minute?”

Chelsea passes you a knowing look and that minute Steve requests turns into an hour in the yard outside of the shelter. The puppy seems hesitant at first, lingering near Steve’s thighs as you stand nearby. But once Chelsea hands Steve a frisbee and ball, it’s as though the puppy is sparked to life once more. Soon enough he’s frolicking around the field, playful yips streaking the summer silence as he retrieves his toys and rushes back over to Steve, paws pouncing playfully against your husband’s designer jeans.

But he doesn’t care.

No—you haven’t seen him light up like this in the nearly three months you’ve been married. The joy illuminated his features. The crinkle of his eyes at the corners. The belly laughs as the puppy eventually knocks him to the ground and demands belly rubs on the grassy floor below. He falls in love before your eyes. With no warning, impossibly fast, and so suddenly it comes as no shock to either you nor Chelsea when he asks about adoption.

As you sit in the lobby with the puppy on a leash on the floor, you turn to Steve, grinning widely. “You said we weren’t getting a dog.”

Steve pats his new fur son’s head and grins as the dog tips his head back to look longingly into his new father’s eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet, and does things to your insides that makes you feel hot all over. You chalk it up to the shoddy air conditioner system, tugging at the neckline of your dress to let the air chill your slick skin.

“I couldn’t leave him,” he says, brushing fingers along a furry ear.

“He picked you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Fond. Smitten. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and all you feel is affection.

Affection.

Towards your husband.

New. But maybe not so scary.

You lean down to pet the puppy’s neck. He jumps up and scrambles up with his front paws against your lap, licking a broad stripe along your chin. “Steve, we have a puppy.”

Your first pet.

His, too.

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s only staring at you. You swallow. “I guess we do.”

A few questions and references and a small adoption fee later, and you’re both the newest proud parents of your still presently unnamed new puppy who pokes his head in the front seat as you drive to the nearest pet store in search of all the things you’ll need to make his transition as simple as possible.

Steve, ever doting as he is, grabs the leash as soon as he helps the little guy out and greets you as usual on your side of the vehicle. You spend the better half of the afternoon purchasing things for him. A dog bed, food, toys, a new collar with his name and address engraved into it.

Charlie Harrington, you both eventually decide, when the cashier asks how you’d like it engraved.

Charlie Harrington, who the doormen at your apartment building immediately fall in love with as you later walk in, you holding the puppy’s leash this time, and Steve trying his hardest to carry all the things you bought.

Charlie Harrington who bounds happily into your home and immediately starts sniffing around in his new space, excited to simply be around people who love him in such a short span of time and want to play with him like he deserves.

“I’ll get started on dinner, if you want to show your fur child around the house,” you tease, laying out Charlie’s shiny new bowls on the floor, and the basket of toys and bones you got for him in the living room, right by his bed beside it.

“You are a sneaky woman,” he jokes, coming up behind you in the kitchen.

Heat blooms where he rests his hand on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s something he’s done before in the confines of your home, with no one looking. So casually, and yet stark in contrast to the riot of butterflies that stir to life in your stomach.

“And why might that be?”

“Played that ice breaker game with me, found out I never had a pet, and then brought me to a shelter…where I then got a pet.”

You shrug, turning on the stovetop to let the water boil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re welcome. Now go—play with him. I know you’re itching to. You’re like a little kid on Christmas right now. It’s kind of cute, Harrington.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, his face pink from your compliment, before rushing into the living room where you hear Charlie barking as he’s once again joined by his new best friend. You reach over to tap Steve’s phone, where Spotify is already open from the car ride, and hit ‘play,’ Leon Bridges the background music to your cooking in the kitchen and Steve’s laughter as he crawls on his hands and knees to rub Charlie’s stomach on the floor.

Perfect.

It’s about as perfect as a day could be.

And later, as you sit together in the dining room, with Charlie sitting patiently in the corner, and talk about the evening, you start to think maybe being married to Steve Harrington for three years will be a little more difficult than you imagined it would be.

Because the feelings stirring in your chest are beyond that of friendship.

No—there’s a suddenness to the clarity of your realization that you like your husband. And the sinking reality that this is merely transactional.

In three years you’ll go your separate ways. Just as you both intended months ago at that coffee shop table.

“You’re overthinking again,” Steve points out, reaching over to center your engagement ring on your left hand. His thumb lingers over the diamonds. “I was telling you about the benefit gala in a few weeks.”

“Oh,” you mutter tiredly. “Sorry. Yeah, uhm, I’ll go. Obviously. It’s part of our arrangement.”

“If you don’t want to go with me…”

“No, I’ll go,” you say, taking a sip of your wine glass. “Black tie dinner event, I’m assuming?”

“Buy yourself a new dress kind of event, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah.”

You nod.

It’ll be October.

Approaching four months into your agreement. Time is already flying.

“Our first big event as a couple outside of our wedding,” you state plainly, gathering your things and Steve’s as you rise to your feet. He grabs the wine glasses and follows you down the hall to your kitchen, dumping all your dirty pasta plates inside. “Anyone I should know or be aware of when we’re there?”

“It’s a lot of partners in the company. Some celebrities, actors, musicians, models. Eddie will be there—he’s been invited. It’s a little bit of everyone. This time they’ve organized donations for a shelter for homeless youth in the city.” He hands you your wine glass, peering into your eyes. Noting your lingering hesitance from your overthinking once more, he continues, “I can cancel you as my plus one. Say you’re not feeling well—”

“No,” you place a hand on his sternum. Pause when you realize what you’ve done. He trails his eyes south where you touch. You don’t move away. “I love the purpose of the benefit. I want to be there. I-I want to go with you.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. You could reach out and touch the outline of his jaw like this. The lines of his perfect nose. “Because I want you there with me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare lingers on your face, or the timber of his voice. The darkness in the depths of his eyes. How the weight of his chest against your palm as he pushes forward has it stuck as a barrier between the two of you. Mere inches of separation.

It’s confusing, maddening, and terrifying all the same.

Two years and nine months.

You’ve got this.

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