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lavendercharm · 10 months ago

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Linger, Chapter 5: Kiss With A Fist/Human Nature

A/N:

Ya'll. Writing this chapter felt like a marathon. But I think I'm ultimately very happy with it. Please let me know what you think!

This chapter is a bit longer, and I think it deserved to be named after two songs because of that. "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine definitely fits the first half of this chapter and was one of the first songs I added to my playlist when writing this story, so I knew I wanted to use it for the big public confrontation.

The vibes toward the end are different. I discovered this song earlier this week and haven't been able to stop listening to it, so maybe I'm just reaching to try and justify including it lol. But "Human Nature" by Barrie is what I decided to use for the second half of this. Cause they're spitting facts when they say "Human nature doesn't always come easy" lmfao.

This is far from the end of this story, but it may be a second before you hear from me, depending on how busy the next few weeks are. I say that - watch me turn around and post something this weekend lol.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far. I love you and I'm so grateful to know you're along for the ride.

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Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

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Barbara Howard did not take days off. It was only recently that she allowed herself her first mental health day, and while she could see the benefits, she had been eager to get back to her classroom, her students, her best friend, and even her coworkers. The life of a teacher was unpredictable, and the life of a teacher at Abbott Elementary came with its own unique set of challenges, but Barbara had seen a lot in her decades of teaching. With some hard work, support from her fellow teachers, and the grace of God himself, she had seen and survived it all. Barbara Howard could conquer anything thrown her way.

However, if Barbara had the magical gift of foresight, she might have chosen Monday morning to take her second mental health day in her entire history at Abbott.

As it was, Barbara could not see into the future, and so she entered the teacher’s lounge at 6:30 AM, on the dot. She claimed her usual spot, made herself a cup of coffee, and began sorting through her lesson plans for the week. She enjoyed her few moments of serenity in the lounge prior to the arrival of her more talkative coworkers. It wasn’t unusual for Melissa to arrive a bit later, especially on a Monday, so Barbara thought nothing of her absence. She politely greeted Janine and Jacob as they entered together; she did the same for Gregory shortly after. As the three younger teachers gathered at their table and discussed their weekends, Barbara continued her work, occasionally reacting to what she overheard. And when you entered the lounge, your first time visiting in the morning, Barbara was mildly surprised, but she shot you a warm smile all the same. She noticed you seemed to be a bit tense, but she chalked it up to the fact that you were still very new.

Melissa had talked her ear off about you last Monday, of course, explaining your tardiness and the shots you’d taken at her about her age. When Barb pressed her for details about your confrontation and what you’d said to each other, she simply said, “I took care of business, a’right?”

While Barbara agreed it was unprofessional of you to arrive late, she also knew Melissa better than anyone else in Abbott did; she knew Melissa could take things too far. Melissa was as passionate as they came, which meant she was one of the best teachers at the school. On the flip side, she also had a short fuse. Barbara knew she didn’t have all of the details, but she didn’t think much of it - you were a sub, after all. She expected she’d never actually meet you.

So when you arrived in the lounge for lunch the day after your explosive argument, she was shocked. While skeptical of you, she couldn’t help but admire your tenacity. You’d come face to face with the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti and still returned to Abbott. You’d introduced yourself, and as far as Barbara could tell, you were perfectly polite and well mannered. The displeasure and hostility radiating off of Melissa was felt by everyone in the lounge, but aside from giving her close friend a pointed look, Barbara chose to ignore it.

You’d continued showing up the rest of the week, greeting Barbara every day before taking a seat with Janine and Jacob, as well as Gregory, occasionally. The younger teachers seemed to have taken an instant liking to you, the four of you sharing stories from previous schools or discussing the latest movie releases. You’d even had a good-natured exchange with Ava one morning. The principal had leant against the corner with her phone and talked you through her “roster”, whatever that meant. Barbara was sure she didn’t want to know.

Barbara observed how seamlessly you integrated into Abbott’s social circles - with the obvious exception of the red head who always sat to her right in the lounge. Melissa pretended you didn't exist, which would have been fine if it wasn’t the elephant in the room. Your first day in the lounge, Janine had tried to talk to Melissa about you. She’d turned to Melissa with a huge grin on her face and said, “Man, Melissa, you’re so lucky to have such an awesome sub as your aide.”

Melissa had glanced at Janine over the rim of her cat-eye glasses, and in a sharp tone, retorted, “What sub?” That’s all it took for everyone in the room to grasp her unspoken message: If you value your life, drop it. The only reaction Barbara saw was a sharp flash of your eyes before you turned your back to the older woman and called Janine over, changing the subject.

But last Friday, Melissa caught up with Barbara after the school day ended and explained that you’d just given her two VIP tickets to the Eagles game on Sunday. If there was anything that would help Melissa forgive your transgressions, it was that. Once again, Barbara found herself impressed with you - you took the initiative to make amends and you’d knocked it out of the park. She was happy for her friend. She’d told Melissa, “Just think of how much you’ll be able to accomplish now that you and that young woman can work together. Now, you and Gary go enjoy that ball game.”

A week after your first morning at Abbott, all of the water was seemingly under the bridge, and the staff room could breathe easy again. No one paid much mind to the anxiety radiating off of you. For the most part, the energy in the room was calming as the day began.

The sudden CRACK of the door slamming into the shelves violently ripped the room’s occupants out of their morning zen. It was enough to cause everyone to nearly jump out of their skin. Heads whipped in the direction of the doorway as Melissa’s furious form charged into the lounge. Her attention was initially on Barb, but as she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes locked on you. The blush of fury rose instantly in her cheeks. She ripped her bag off of her shoulder and tossed it in the direction of her regular table, nearly hitting Barbara in the process, and as her eyes narrowed, you could practically see the steam rolling off of her as she hissed out, “You.”

And that’s when Barbara knew any chance of a peaceful morning had gone out the window.

—----------------------

As your weekend began, it didn’t take long for it to sink in that you were well and truly fucked. You completely failed to consider the consequences of your little scheme. There’s no way in hell Melissa wouldn’t be out for blood at the start of the next school week. The smartest thing to do would be to never return to Abbott, move to a new city across the country, and change your legal name. You went back and forth between chastising yourself for being ridiculous, and being so ridden with anxiety that you couldn’t eat. You felt so stupid - what did you think would happen?

Ultimately, you reached a point where you couldn’t handle the crushing weight of what you’d done alone, so you’d spilled to Ava. Her response had been about the least reassuring thing she could have said.

You did WHAT? I didn’t know you were crazy like that! You’re gonna die girl. I’m not even joking. We gotta go out this weekend, cause it’s your last one alive. I’ll make sure you have fun tho. Do you own any latex?

After refusing Ava’s offers to make your last days on earth worthwhile, you spent most of the weekend drowning in anxiety and imagining how Melissa would bring about your demise. You decided you had to do your best to prepare. You literally couldn’t afford to not go back to Abbott, especially after getting your headlights repaired Saturday afternoon. Under the anxiety, you could feel the ember of your rage, still pulsing with a red-hot glow, so you decided to grasp ahold of it. What you’d done was shitty, sure. But compared to smashing headlights? All you’d done was get even.

Seeing as you couldn’t afford to uproot your whole life and leave Philadelphia, the next most logical thing to do was to never be caught alone in a room with Melissa ever again. You were pretty sure this was something you could pull off - you figured you had two weeks left at Abbott tops, and as long as you had kids or other teachers in the same room, you would have witnesses who could recount your violent death should Melissa murder you.

This is what caused you to arrive at Abbott on Monday morning a full hour and a half before you needed to be there. You’d dithered in your car for about fifteen minutes, debating driving away and then talking yourself out of it. Eventually, you braved the outdoors, darting into the building and down the hallways as quickly as you could. You practically sprinted past Melissa’s classroom door - the lights were out, but even though you logically knew she wasn’t in yet, your mind conjured a vivid image of her jumping out of the shadows like a monster in waiting. You slowed down and tried to control your breathing as you entered the teacher’s lounge, and you were immediately soothed to see how many people were already there. Even better, Melissa was absent.

As you passed Barbara, you gave her a hesitant smile. You actually liked Barbara, as much as you can like someone who’s polite and whom you don’t know very well. You figured it may be the last chance you get - surely the woman would turn against you once Melissa told her what you’d done. Janine, Jacob, and Gregory were all sitting at your usual table, and after preparing your morning coffee, you quickly situated yourself in a seat, thankfully facing the door to the lounge.

“Hey!” Janine said, shooting you her adorable, slightly gapped-toothed smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, uh… it was fine,” you said, your eyes darting toward the door as it opened. Not Melissa . “Mostly caught up on chores… had to get some work done to my car, fun stuff like that.”

“Car problems are tough,” Gregory said, spooning a bite out of his bowl of plain oatmeal. “What was wrong with it?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what was really wrong. It would inevitably lead to questions and the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know the details of your feud. It was one thing for everyone to know Melissa didn’t like you - there were very few people Melissa actually liked in general. But it was another entirely for them to know she’d smashed out your headlights. Something generic - a bad alternator, maybe - would suffice.

You didn’t even get the chance to lie.

Despite the fact that you could see the doorway, the resounding SMACK of the door slamming open still made you jump. Before your brain knew what it was processing, in stormed Melissa Schemmenti, thick heels clacking on the linoleum tiles. She wore a form fitting pink sweater, the neckline questionably appropriate, and skin tight black pants. Her saint necklaces shimmered from their home on her collarbones. You supposed she wanted to look hot when she killed you.

It only took a moment for her eyes to lock on you, and in that moment you knew things were about to get ugly. To your surprise, seeing the flustered state she was in created a feeling of immense satisfaction. She was furious because your plan had worked. You didn’t even fight the smile that began to find its way onto your lips. The anxiety wasn’t gone, but you relished in the triumphant feeling of landing a critical hit.

“ You,” she hisses, tossing her bag from her shoulder. The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Your eyebrows shoot up, feigned ignorance in your voice as you point at yourself and respond, “Who, me?”

She starts toward you, and everyone else at your table scatters. You’re shocked to see Janine step in front of you, her hands up placatingly. “Melissa-”

“Shut it, pipsqueak, and get out of my way ,” she growls, her gaze over Janine’s head burning holes in you.

“Hey!” You spit out, anger spiking and crowding out your anxiety. You’re suddenly standing. “Don’t call her that!”

Janine turns to you, holding a hand in your direction now too. “It’s fine, she calls me that all the time-”

“It’s not fine!” You shout, fists balled. Your eyes are glued to Melissa’s. “You think you can say and do whatever you want because no one will stand up to you. Well, I’m not going to put up with it!”

“Oh my god, please stop this. I will never psychologically recover from seeing your dead body,” Jacob pleads, wedged between the corner of the room and the fridge for cover.

“Can’t believe I was dumb enough to trust ya,” Melissa growls. “And after all that bullshit about ‘olive branches' and bein’ cordial.”

You smirk. “Oh, right! How was the game?”

Melissa starts forward again and Janine has to physically hold her back. She’s shockingly effective in spite of her small stature.

“Ya know I didn’t get into the game! Gary and I went all the way to the stadium, but you gave me fake tickets! We wasted our whole afternoon and got harassed by security!” she shouts.

“So what are you gonna do about it? Beat me up? Call the cops on me?” you challenge.

A deeply offended look crosses Melissa’s face as her jaw drops. “Are you callin’ me a snitch?” she snarls. She surges against Janine one more time, who manages to keep her back again. “That’s low, even for you!” Melissa says nastily over Janine’s shoulder.

“Oh, that’s low?” You ask incredulously. “Low like smashing someone’s headlights out?” There’s an audible gasp from Jacob in the corner, and you feel the heat of everyone’s gaze turn from you to Melissa, the whole room enthralled by your verbal tennis match.

Melissa glances around her before pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Ya can’t prove that was me!” You thought someone would have to have been born yesterday to believe that; anyone who worked at Abbott knew that’s exactly something Melissa would do.

“Oh yeah, because everyone else here keeps a bat taped under their desk like a neurotic asshole!” you proclaim, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I’ll show you ya stronza- ” Melissa hisses, pushing past Janine and beginning to reach for you. Your arms come up to instinctively protect your face, but before she can reach you, a figure closer to your height blocks your vision.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Barbara Howard bellows. The whole room comes to a standstill, frozen in time. Even Melissa has been stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide in shock as Barbara looks accusingly between the two of you. You feel immediately ashamed. “Are you both not grown adults? I cannot believe the absolute foolishness I’ve just witnessed!” She rounds on Melissa. “Especially from you!”

“Barb, she-” Melissa starts.

“I don’t care if she insulted your cooking to your face, you do not behave like catty teenagers! We are professional, grown people! Acting like this in front of your peers? Disgraceful! ”

She rounds on you, her eyes narrowing. “And you. To think that I was beginning to think highly of you. You went to all that trouble to make fake football tickets, just to get back at Melissa? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘An eye for an eye’ ?”

The pit of shame in your stomach is sickening as you slowly lower your arms, your eyes unable to meet Barbara’s. Feeling like a petulant child, you couldn’t help but mutter, “She started it.”

“And now I’m ending it!” Barbara yells. You feel her grip the sleeve of your sweater and pull. You stumble after, seeing her grasp Melissa as well. “You are both coming with me!” The rest of the lounge doesn’t move a muscle as Barbara Howard physically drags you into the hallway.

She marches with both of you in tow, Melissa sending you the nastiest glares she can muster from the other side of her friend. Stopping in front of a classroom full of bright colors and tiny chairs, Barbara turns to both of you. “This has gotten completely out of hand! You are both going to sit in my room and we are going to work through this. I don’t care if it takes all day - you will NOT be allowed out until you can act like civilized adults!” She folds her arms and gestures her head forward. You stare back for a moment, thinking she must be joking, but the woman doesn’t budge. After a moment longer, you enter the classroom. You’re followed closely by Melissa, who stalks to the other end of the room.

Barbara closes her door and pulls down the window blind. She turns to you both, her eyes closed and her shoulders rising in deep, even breaths. Eventually, she opens her eyes, and commands, “Take a seat.”

You glance around and only see chairs for children. You begin to protest, but the look on Barbara’s face prompts you to simply grab the nearest chair and plant yourself in it. Your knees are comically close to your chest and you don’t know where to put your hands. You settle on resting them on top of your knees. Melissa is pacing back and forth, muttering to herself - you guess she gets to ignore Barbara’s request.

“Now,” Barbara begins. “We are going to talk out your problems so we can put this whole mess behind us. Your students deserve you at your best, and you cannot be your best when you’re at each other’s throats!” She’s stern, chastising, and you feel ridiculous. “Where did all of this animosity start? Why are you angry with Melissa?”

You can’t help but scoff because the answer should be obvious. Barbara presses her lips together in annoyance and you quickly reply, “Well, where do I begin? Aside from smashing my headlights out, she’s done nothing but disrespect me since I stepped foot in her room. She was insulting me before she even learned my name!”

“I never learned your name,” she pipes up spitefully, and you whip your head around to glare at her.

“Memory not as good as it used to be?” you retort. A muscle in her jaw jumps out as she clenches her jaw, her face coloring once more.

Before she has a chance to rip into you again, Barbara cuts you both off with a stern, “Knock it off!” She looks exasperatedly between the two of you before pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Lord is testing me today,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head. She turns her attention to the fiery woman across the room. “Melissa?”

Melissa comes to a stop, planting herself and leaning her weight onto one hip. She rolls her eyes, gesticulating wildly as she speaks. “If we’re goin’ back to the start, then first things first, she strolled into my class thirty minutes late. Didn’t even have the decency to apologize.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” you protest. “I hadn't even stepped into the room before you were criticizing me. It’s not like I did it on purpose, it was a complete and total accident. And then you started insulting how young and inexperienced I look.”

“I was just givin’ you a hard time, that’s all,” she says indignantly. “How was I suppose ta know you can’t take a joke?”

Your head whips toward her. “And smashing my headlights? Was that a joke?” you retort incredulously.

Her eyes narrow and her tone is venomous as she hisses, “Nah, that was for throwin’ away my school supplies, stealin’ lunches, and callin’ me a bitch.”

You hear Barbara’s sharp inhale and jump to defend yourself. “Those supplies were all broken or unusable! You have so much on your hands with two classes and I was just trying to help you. Also, Janine gave me that lasagna because I forgot my lunch, I didn’t steal anything. You wouldn’t give me a chance to explain myself before jumping down my throat. Not to mention calling me degrading names in Italian!”

Barbara raises an eyebrow and gives Melissa a knowing glance. “Melissa uses gabbortz quite often, it’s nothing to get offended over,” she says, an attempt to reassure you.

Melissa’s eyes dart to Barbara’s as she huffs, “Uh, it’s gabbadost , Barb. And I mighta used somethin’ more… vulgar.” To your disbelief, the red head practically looks sheepish at this admission. Her arms cross in front of her as she shifts her weight, and your eyes are drawn to how the motion causes her cleavage to swell ever so slightly. Feeling heat flood your cheeks, you dart your eyes all over the room, attempting to find something else to fix them on. Luckily, neither woman seems to notice. Barbara’s eyebrows are furrowed in an inquisitive way that suggests she’s waiting for the shorter woman to elaborate. Melissa lets out a puff of air. “I mighta used the ‘P’ word, a’right?”

Barbara’s eyes widen as her mouth drops open in a gasp. “The ‘P’ word? Melissa Schemmenti, you don’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, the one I save exclusively for Kristin Marie. That ‘P’ word.” You don’t know who Kristin Marie is, but Barbara looks positively scandalized.

Tearing her eyes away from Melissa, Barbara stands and turns away from both of you, hands on her hips and head shaking in disapproval. As she takes her turn pacing across the room, the disappointed silence from the older woman allows the weight of the last week to settle on you, and you find yourself suddenly exhausted. You lean forward, your head in your hands and the shame rising inside of you like a tidal wave. How did you get here?

“Well, I think you both have been sufficiently horrible to each other,” Barbara says, turning toward you. “Now explain how this has all made you feel.”

You and Melissa groan in unison. “Come on, Barb,” Melissa starts, but Barbara holds up a single admonishing finger to silence her. The Italian woman becomes subdued immediately, and you notice how different Melissa’s reaction is to being silenced by Barbara.

“How has this made you feel?” the older woman presses, her tone of voice a warning to comply. Melissa leans against the wall, refusing to budge. You all sit in tense silence for what feels like an eternity, and you wish the floor would swallow you up. She was using the same tactics on you that you might use on two fighting eight year olds.

Eventually, you can’t handle the tension any longer and you burst out, “I feel totally disrespected!” You look to Barbara and she gestures for you to continue. “I uh… I feel belittled, and like you don’t take me seriously, but I think the worst part is I never got the chance to prove to you that I belong here… you wrote me off before you even met me. I’ve worked hard, and I love what I do, so to have you disregard me right off the bat, just because I made a mistake and I look young… it felt pretty shitty,” you admit, the confession coming out of you in one long rush.

“Especially because… I was excited to work with you,” you add quietly. You’re suddenly enamored with the floor, unable to bring yourself to look either woman in the eye. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you’re majorly uncomfortable with it.

You’re forced to endure your feelings of discomfort for a few more torturous minutes. Suddenly, your eyes widen in shock as a husky voice meets your ears, and it takes a moment for your brain to process the words.

“I guess I feel a lot of the same,” Melissa admits. You raise your gaze to meet hers, and she’s staring at you intently, the earnestness reflected in her jewel-green eyes making your heart skip a beat. “Felt like you didn’t really care when you were late. Some a’ these kids? They got plenty of adults outside of these walls that don’t really care. That’s the last thing they need here. And then ya walked in and you look so young… I couldn't resist teasin' ya. But then you got me back and I got defensive, and I shouldnt’a.” She shifts her weight, casting her eyes to the floor. “I bought all those supplies with my own money,” she admits. “So seein’ you throwin’ em away, it really rubbed me the wrong way. But… you were right. I was tryin’ to stretch em when there was no more room to stretch. And then seein’ my lasagna on your desk… I know I can be a real hot head, and I took it out on ya and it wasn’t fair.”

As you look at Melissa, her red hair shining under the fluorescents and her evident unease at her own candor, there’s a swelling feeling in your chest and a warmth slowly spreading in your limbs. “Melissa,” you say, and her head snaps up to meet you. You search her eyes, waiting for her to snap at you for using her first name. She doesn’t. She simply waits, holding your gaze, and you can’t quite read what’s behind her eyes, but you suspect it’s something far softer than she’s shown you before.

You allow yourself to swim in those emerald pools for just a second longer before you admit, tenderly, “I’m sorry.” You see her shoulders drop ever so slightly, tension releasing as she allows your words to sink in. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said about your age. I’m sorry for throwing your things away without asking. And I’m really sorry about the Eagles tickets. That definitely wasn’t my finest moment.” You say the last bit with a touch of humor. You pause for a moment, before adding, “I’m not going to apologize for the lasagna, though. Janine insisted on giving it to me, and it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever tasted.”

You see her eyes widen, her brows raising in surprise. A genuine satisfied smile graces her lips, and you can’t help but momentarily wish things had been different over the last week so you could have seen more of those. That smile made her entire demeanor change.

“Well,” she says, eyes flashing with her own humor. She shoots you a sly grin, and you return a small smile of your own. “If I’m bein’ real with ya, I’m impressed. Fake tickets? Pretty diabolical,” she continues, admiration in her voice. Her smile fades, though, and she brings her hand up, pressing a knuckle to her lips briefly in thought. She sighs, murmuring, “I’m sorry too. I shoulda given you a chance before jumpin’ to conclusions. And, uh… I’ll pay for ya to get your headlights fixed.” She mutters that last part, and you notice that she didn’t apologize for smashing them - but you know it’s as close as she’ll come, because you’re not sure she entirely regrets it. You’ll take what you can get.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and once again you suddenly can’t look at her anymore. Luckily, Barbara draws your focus to her as she clears her throat. You both look toward the older teacher as she stares down at you, a smug, triumphant smile dancing across her full lips.

“Now, was that so hard?” She asks, her voice teasing both of you. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe fully again. Melissa rolls her eyes, pulling herself away from the wall, but you detect a hint of relief radiating off of the woman as well.

“Don’t expect us to hold hands or nothin’ Barb,” she says as she heads for the door. When she reaches it, she pauses and turns to you. She considers you for a moment, and you begin to feel warm underneath her gaze. Finally, she says, “Well, ya comin’? We got lessons to plan for the day. How do ya feel about teaching Science?” Her tone is gruff, commanding, no nonsense. The carefully curated tough exterior of Melissa Schemmenti is back in place. But you’ve seen the slightest glimpse of the human being underneath.

“Right behind you,” you reply, and a tentative grin breaks out across your face as you stand and begin to follow the short woman. You pause briefly though, a thought entering your mind, and you turn to Barabra. Your hands grasp each other behind your back as you rock forward onto the balls of your feet, and you convey your gratitude by giving the older woman the warmest smile you can muster and uttering, “Thank you, Barbara.”

She returns your smile, her own radiant and warm, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been blessed a bit. “My pleasure, dear. Go on, I’ll see you at lunch.” You nod in agreement, and turn on your heel, following after your lead teacher. You’re not friends - seeing as your time is limited at Abbott, you don’t imagine you ever will be. But you feel lighter, and there’s a newfound respect for the short woman. And for the first time since you stepped foot inside Abbott Elementary, you feel excited for the day before you.

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A/N:

Yes, I'm sorry, Gary will be briefly mentioned/perhaps even making small appearances. Stay strong lol. Controversial opinion but I don't hate Gary. Did I think he was good enough for Melissa? HELL NO. Do I think he should have respected her wishes and listened to her when she explained her boundaries? HELL YES. But ultimately he was just a big dumb guy who was infatuated with Melissa Schemmenti, and to that, I relate. Still, I wasn't mad about that split.

Fun fact - if you've watched season 3 episode 4 already, I wrote the Ava roster line before that episode aired. I died laughing when the kids were talking to Gregory about his roster. We don't need to talk about the firefighter exchange... denial is my favorite state.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #Spotify

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seren1tyhaze · 1 year ago

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of grocery lists and spilled (oat) milk

PAIRING: mark lee x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

SUMMARY: sure, keeping your grocery list in Mark Lee's dms may seem like next level delusional but it can't do any harm, right?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: for my lovely @strwbrysunday who inspired this and for being there always for every step of my delusional writing process <3 In case I don’t pull something together in time, we can count this as a VERY early bday tribute to Markly

WARNINGS: fluff, romantic meet cute, light swearing, rekindling romance, childhood friends to lovers

PLAYLIST: Broken Melodies and Like We Just Met by NCT Dream

Life is but a dream, we got history

Your alarm is blaring in your ear as your cat licks the tip of your nose, jolting you awake to see hot sun streaming in your bedroom window. How bright the room is has you scrambling for your phone, desperately hoping you hadn’t overslept (again).

Your phone screen confirms the worst as you whip back the covers and slide into fluffy slippers next to your bed, knocking a cup over as you reach for your cat’s food in the kitchen and spilling some of it in the process. She happily purrs against your bare legs before starting to eat slowly out of the small tray and you realize you’re going to have to drink the shitty office coffee since you’re both out of espresso pods and oat milk.

You quickly shower and are out the door in record time, thanking yourself that you hadn’t unpacked your work bag when you had gotten home late the night before. Work has been brutal lately, giving you barely any time in the evenings to yourself and you’ve never been one to wake up early in the morning. You know you have to go to the store today so you plan to try to sneak out a bit early to get your essentials.

Once you’re settled in the train car for your twenty seven minute ride, you work through a couple emails to get a head start on work before turning to your grocery list.

You glance to your side to see if anyone is looking over your shoulder at your phone, knowing the unconventional location of said list would seem questionable to a passerby.

Even you can admit that your delusional habit you had started ages ago was a little strange, but it felt comforting at this point and wasn’t hurting anyone. You opened up your Instagram DMs and tapped into the extremely one sided conversation with a charming, smiley rapper with 11.5M followers who did not know you existed.

Yes, you kept your grocery lists (and other important info you needed to find quickly) in Mark Lee’s DMs.

It had started as a joke a few years ago when you had finally admitted to your closest friend in the city that you and Mark had gone to summer camp together when you were kids. It had only been for a couple years but you remembered it like it was yesterday. The early morning kayak trips, knocking bare knees around a late night campfire, and how he used to sing you to sleep accompanied by the soft strumming of his guitar from the steps of your cabin.

You had followed his career ever since, listening to new songs as they were released, watching him on variety shows, and flipping through magazines whenever you saw his stunning face and bold style gracing the covers. You enjoyed seeing the short poems he would post on his stories or read out loud on the rare live he would do after shows.

Your friend had encouraged you to slide into his DMs at the time, purely motivated by her desire to meet his dancer best friend that he was sometimes spotted with at the most exclusive clubs. You had tapped open the message conversation with him and in typing quickly, accidentally pasted your short grocery list into the chat. She had laughed at you and you sent the message anyways, knowing that there was no way he would reply or ever even see it in his message requests.

You had a solid amount of followers for someone who didn’t work in the entertainment industry due to the app you had helped develop rising in popularity in the past few months. You sometimes helped out with filming vlog content for the website or TikToks but mostly kept to yourself and didn’t really have any interest in being internet famous.

Since you had first put your grocery list in Mark’s DMs, you had used the space to put little notes to yourself, including a drunken ramble one night about how 16 Personalities has royally fucked up everyone’s perception of MBTI.

Today, you opened up the message to add in your latest essentials, putting oat milk in all caps since the last few times you went you somehow managed to forget it. You needed food for the week, chicken and veggies, some other basics like mascara and tampons and remembered running low on cat treats.

Sliding your phone back into the front pocket of your bag, you let your eyes flutter shut for the rest of the ride to work, finally feeling the adrenaline of waking up late wear off.

Many hours later you are angrily typing on your computer, finishing up some code review for the development team, eyes flicking repeatedly to the clock in the bottom of your screen.

“I’m sorry you had to stay late, you should head out soon before it starts raining harder,” your coworker messages you, leaning from behind their monitor across the open office space, offering you a small smile.

You send off a couple frustrated emojis before typing up your feedback for the team in an email, feet already sliding into your rain boots you kept under your desk for gloomy days like today.

Checking your watch, you realize you are barely going to make it to the grocery store if you don’t leave now. The only benefit will be that it should be pretty empty this late at night. After a short train ride, you’re pushing a cart through the empty aisles, grabbing what you need and humming lightly to yourself. There are a few fellow late night shoppers milling about alongside the workers stocking the shelves for the next morning.

You grab the last item on your list just as a series of yawns hit you, making your way to the self-checkout area. You are about to scan your first item when you glance down at your cart, noticing you’ve managed to forget the oat milk again.

“Fucking…” you murmur under your breath, dropping your pack of tampons back into the cart and spinning on your heel, heading towards the back of the store to quickly grab the milk.

You’re almost back to your cart when you hit a wet spot on the floor, slipping in a dramatic, banana peel comedy sketch moment, falling hard on your back, managing to catch the back of your head with your hand before it collides with the linoleum floor.

The oat milk cartons in your hands crash to the floor, one of them starting to leak out in a milky puddle next to you.

Suddenly a masked face appears over you, white cloth covering most of his features, dark eyes holding a confused look. You are breathing heavily and blink a couple times to clear your vision.

“Yo…are you okay?” comes a loud and worried voice, holding a hand out in an offer of help.

You feel a little light headed but accept the hand anyways, allowing yourself to sit up and meet the eyes of the young man now crouching next to you on the wet floor.

“Uh yeah…yeah…the floor was we-” your speech is cut off suddenly as he pulls down his mask, shaking dark hair from his eyes and making eye contact with you again.

Kneeling in a puddle of rainwater and oat milk was none other than the man whose DMs you had monopolized for the past few years and the name you had moaned late at night with your hand shoved under your covers. It was the face you had studied countless times in high resolution photos from the airport posted on Twitter, a face that you had memorized down to the prominent mole on his cheek and the curves of his shining white teeth. Mark Lee had just watched you bite it on the floor of the grocery store right before closing.

You can barely keep eye contact with Mark as you stand up, looking down to see damp pants and your shirt rumpled. Embarrassed, you thank him under your breath, reaching down to pick up the milk cartons and tossing them in a nearby trash can. You quickly begin scanning the items from your cart with shaky hands, placing them in your tote bag, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Did you remember the cat treats?” he asks quietly, pushing the black hood off his head and stepping closer to you, handing you a carton of strawberries from your basket.

You lift up your gaze to meet his, mouth falling open at his question. His eyes are big and kind and he has a shy but warm expression on his face, plump pink lips settling into a pout as he finishes his question.

“You…read those messages? I’m uh…Mark…Lee…Mark Lee. I’m so sorry…” you ramble, brain scrambled and swimming with all other reasons why he could have asked that, praying that he somehow hadn’t been reading your messages all these years.

“How could I not when the cute girl from summer camp kept me informed on every little detail of her life,” he replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling bashfully as his fingertips made contact with your now flushed cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Mark, I didn’t think there was any way you would remember me and it just kind of became a habit,” you stuttered out, scanning your last item and reaching for your wallet. You were acutely aware of how close he had gotten and silently hoped your makeup still looked good and that your hair had stayed lightly curled from yesterday’s styling. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire and you knew how red your neck had to be getting.

“I got it, but don’t forget the oat milk,” he offers as he scans a carton of the same brand from his own cart before swiping his card on the reader to pay for your groceries. You are once again stunned but tip your head down in a silent thanks.

“But for real, thank you for recommending this brand, it’s the best!” he laughs, scratching the back of his head awkwardly and grabbing your bags for you.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” you say quietly, a grin settling across your face as the two of you walk out of the store. His hand is brushing up against the back of yours as he keeps close to your side, popping open an umbrella to shield you from the light rain that hasn’t quite cleared yet.

“I’ve thought about you a lot over the years, but also know our lives took us in different directions. But I always hoped you were supporting me from a distance,” he replies candidly, tapping into his phone before handing it to you with an open contact card screen.

“Now, can you please give me your number so I can call you and we can go on a real date that doesn’t involve you laying a puddle of milk?”

“Hey, maybe that’s my idea of a perfect first date!” you laugh out, quickly adding yourself as a contact in his phone before handing it back to him. Your heart is pounding as your fingers brush against his, unable to believe that this is happening. You half expect to sit up in your bed any moment, thinking that all the videos you studied about lucid dreaming must have finally paid off.

He chuckles, closing the umbrella as the rain comes to a stop at the most picture perfect moment. The air smelled fresh in the post storm haze, fog settling lightly around you amongst flickering streetlights and the hum of city sounds. He reaches back to pull his hood up, covering dark and piecey short hair, hanging perfectly at the sides of his forehead. Whenever he turns his head, you catch a glimpse of an intricate pattern buzzed into the shorter sides, exposing flashes of his scalp in contrast to his dark hair.

Your eyes trail down his face and take in his full frame for the first moment since you first encountered him in the store. He’s broader than you had imagined, your height difference the same as when you had known him as a kid, but his arms look strong and tight jeans leaving little to the imagination. His face is bare but immaculate, brows perfectly coiffed and lips plump and moisturized.

He clears his throat lightly at you ogling him and you meet his sparkling eyes again as he sits your bags gently on the ground next to him, placing a tentative hand on your lower back.

“Yes?” you ask teasingly, batting your eyelashes a little for good measure, suddenly feeling confidence bloom within you. He sighs before speaking again and you feel the tension and nervousness between the two of you start to melt away.

“Ever since you sent me those videos on Halloween, I’ve been having to stop myself from sliding into your DMs like some sleazy asshole,” he mutters, voice suddenly lower and strained as his pinky finger brushes up against yours, linking with it and swinging lightly.

You knit your eyebrows together in confusion, trying to think back to what videos he could be talking about. Hazy memories of your drunken night out to multiple bars and house parties start flooding in as you begin to remember what you wore that night.

Golden fabric and black strappy laces from below your navel up to your neck flash in your mind and you suddenly remember your cheetah costume that was less than safe for work. Those heels went straight in the trash when you got home because while they made your legs look amazing, they gave you the worst blisters of your entire life.

“...I did not send you videos that night,” you start cautiously, placing a hand on his chest to ground yourself. You are trying to force the memories forward but all you can think of is the countless shots you took with your friend and some sloppy make out sessions on the dance floor.

He chuckles, nodding silently and letting his forehead fall towards yours, pressing against yours tenderly. It did bring you comfort but also made your heart skip a beat.

“I am…mortified,” you sigh, blinking up at him from the awkward angle.

“Don’t be, you looked fucking hot,” he breathes out, warm breath minty and fanning out across your lips.

His lips are on yours seconds later, hand sliding down towards your ass and pulling you closer into him. He breaks away from you, inches from your lips, checking your face for any sign of discomfort, only to find lust laden, hooded eyes blinking rapidly.

You surge forward to capture his lips again, bringing your hand up to his neck and digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue presses against your lips eagerly and you give him access instantly, a soft whine buzzing against his mouth. You lose all concept of time and space, forgetting you are standing on the empty downtown streets in front of the market, in the arms of one of the most famous musicians in the world.

You break away first, having to calm your breathing pattern and releasing the material you were gripping on his chest.

He chuckles and slides his hand up your back, massaging your shoulder lightly through your raincoat. He’s so much more gentle and tender than you could have ever imagined and you struggle to maintain eye contact with him.

“I can’t believe all I had to do was buy a carton of oat milk to finally kiss my first crush after all these years,” he laughs out, leaning in to gently nuzzle at your hair.

“Do you need me to add anything to our grocery list? You know, it’s almost been two years since we started it, I think,” Mark laughed out a little loudly, despite being close to your ear in Taeyong’s crowded apartment.

“Wait, I thought you two just moved in together recently?” Jaemin cackles, taking a long sip of beer. You didn’t realize he was eavesdropping on your conversation, assuming he had been too focused on Jeno’s karaoke performance happening in the center of the room.

You dip your head down, embarrassed by the fact that Mark’s closest friends still didn’t know the full details of your reunion and start of your relationship. You had sworn him to secrecy, telling him he could fill them in on the past camp days and make up some story about how the two of you had met at an art gallery opening.

“Oh Jaem, haven’t you heard of our adorable meet cute?” Mark asks mischievously, nudging your knee with his and dragging his lips over your ear. His eyes tell you everything, just as they always had, just like when you first met.

“Oh do tell,” he gushed, letting his chin drop into his hand with his elbow propped up on his crossed legs. He tapped his cheek with his fingers, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you.

While you refused to let Mark share the story of years of grocery lists and your fall at the market check out, you did let him share how he asked you to move in with him a few months prior.

On a normal Friday morning you had pulled open the fridge, reaching in without looking, and feeling your hand brush against an unfamiliar piece of paper on the oat milk.

A watermelon shaped post-it note (that had seemingly been “borrowed” from your desk) was taped to the front of the carton with hurried handwriting in a statement that made your heart flutter.

I hate this distance and I hate singing broken melodies. Move in with me <3

The carton almost slips from your fingers but you manage to catch it and pour some with a shaky hand into your waiting tumbler.

Pulling your phone from your jeans pocket, you lean your back against the counter, petting your cat’s head as she emerges from her favorite spot behind the toaster oven.

Opening Instagram, you tap into your conversation, adding a to do list in the same format you usually used for your grocery lists.

To Do List: Help my new roommate pick out more comfortable pillows for the bed -.-

Typing bubbles appear almost immediately, and a string of sappy emojis and voice notes start flooding in from Mark.

It’s still surreal to see replies from the message thread that had been one-sided for so long. You still message in Instagram from time to time, finding comfort in the space, despite spending hours on the phone each day and being in almost constant contact via other messaging apps.

A knock at your door pulls your attention and you have to dab your eyes with the back of your hand where tears have pricked up. A couple large boxes are waiting outside your door and you drag them inside before snapping a picture to send to Mark. You had planned a camping trip for later in the summer, looking forward to reliving those muggy summer nights spent chasing fireflies, spending your days reading in a hammock and falling even deeper in love with the boy who first made you feel special all those years ago.

#nct x reader #mark lee fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct dream x reader #nct dream fanfic #serenity wrote something nice and angst free for once #are you proud #serenity’s love letter to markfs

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worth-this-and-more · 4 months ago

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๋࣭⭑⚝ hiii i'm sukanya and welcome to my blog yall!!! ‹𝟹

a small reminder; my blog has detailed posts about legendborn with a lot of spoilers for both the books, so if you haven't read the books yet i would advise you to to not look too closely or you will be spoiled. stay spoiler-free everyone!!

age: 18 (doesn't give you permission to be weird) sexuality: bisexual pronouns: she/her favorite colors: red, black, purple favorite flower: roses my hobbies: reading books, listening to music, reading books while listening to music, learning new stuff because of the aforementioned books, obsessing over fictional characters, cooking, dancing, stargazing at night by sneaking out at 3 am because my parents don't allow me to go at night as i will "catch a cold", slaying my enemies in a brutal show of blood and glory, coding.

fandoms i'm part of: the legendborn cycle, percy jackson, shatter me series, artemis fowl series, lord of the rings, the inheritance games, folk of the air series, sea of ink and gold series, six of crows, a good girl's guide to murder, divergent chronicles, the secrets of immortal nicholas flamel series, harry potter series, fantastic beasts and where to find them, twilight, the mysterious benedict society, married to magic series, miss peregrine's home for peculiar children, the gilded wolves series, royal secrets series, royal secrets series, the splintered series and more

fictional characters i would sell my soul to at a discount the discount being free because i would never make them pay: briana matthews, selwyn emyrs kane, alice chen, juliette ferrars, aaron warner, nazeera ibrahim, kenji kishimoto, jude duarte, cardan greenbriar, inej ghafa, kaz brekker, avery kylie grambs, alexander hawthorne, jest, artemis fowl, holly black, hermione granger, ginny weasley, credric diggory, newt scamander, rosalie cullen, noor pradesh, jacob portman, josh newman, sophie newman, pip fitz-amobi, ravi singh and probably more but you get the point

things i absolutely adore: people becoming so excited when they talk about their favorite things, loving the absolute shit outta my friends, cooking anything and everything for those i love, listening to our shared playlist and explaining in great detail which part of the song is your favorite things i absolutely hate: anyone's opinions that disrespect someone's existence, identity, or interests, people forcing their beliefs and ideals over me, sexist and homophobic jokes in the name of "dark humor", people shitting on my fav book series after they dropped them halfway through, people who listen to jojo siwa

this is a blog for the legendborn cycle, i hope you enjoy your stay here!! i usually post theories or headcanons about the characters, and a few case studies too, all in all you will find a lot of posts about legendborn so here's a masterlist more for my preference than anyone else which i will keep updating time to time;

fanarts and fanfics by me; -a small fanart for our king; {fanart of briana matthews} -“But when your entire world is shattering, a little bit of magic is . . . nothing.” {fanart of briana matthews} -"Show me what you got, mystery girl" {fanfic of brelwyn}

masterlist; -how do the legendborn highschoolers look like while studying -theory/analysis of bree's powers and emotional connection -found family in bloodmarked -my theory to why merlin's succumb to their blood -why do i think bree did not cheat on nick -me crying over faye's speech for bree -my expectations for oathbound -my love for sarah griffiths -questions about silver wall because why not -cestra vs tor analysis because i hate them both -how i imagine they all sound like -bloodmarked hot take -bloodmarked hotter take -shipwars in fandom when there are like 10 of us -my breesel specific playlist -an unnecessarily funny selwyn appreciation post chain -theories about ava and bree -my best friend that i added into our cult fandom -my addition to the theory of consent and root transfer -can merlins build objects other than weapons, like planes?? -theories about rootcraft in oathbound -is sel jealous of valec?? spoiler: he is fumingly jealous -an angry rant about the real motives for spell of eternity -some theories about selwyn and merlins in oathbound -what drinks do the legendborn drink: headcanons -what am i looking forward to in oathbound -detailed blog discussion "is selbree endgame?? with proofs" -sel vs. lark: who would win?? -a rootcrafter merlin?? what could this mean -theory discussion of kingsmage's oath prying your third eye open with a crowbar -what each briana x selwyn shipname makes me feel like -morgaine and a rootcrafter having a child?? not entirely impossible -my fav animal is when: legendborn edition -thoughts and opinions on bree's birthday gifts!!!! -the ultimate brelwyn post for anyone who is confused on what they are -my oathbound dream + my subconscious brain's predictions -my speculations on how bree's purple power would be -where is bree in the oathbound excerpt: a half discussion no concrete conclusion

-everybody theorising and coping with how would the legendborn cycle end -cute/random legendborn headcanons because we need some coping -holy grail and it's possible appearance in the legendborn lore -my favorite scene/sequence of brelwyn from both the books

feel free to send me asks about anything legendborn-related, and if you just wanna talk we can talk on my sideblog @squirrel-in-the-woods ‹𝟹

random facts about myself because this is my blog anyways: ♡ when i was 8 my pinky finger was unfortunately cut a third, like the tip of it yk, by a door that slammed really fast because of a storm at that time, and my cut off finger was joined by inserting a rod in it. the rod is taken out but now i have a funny pinky finger that does not bend. ♡ i am multilingual, aka i can speak marathi, hindi, english, spanish (i cant get the accent right but rest is okay) and korean (beginner level, just enough that i can understand kdramas mostly without subtitles). ♡ i have a fear of heights despite that i am unusually interested in roller coasters and bungee jumping, however my parents refuse to take me to any of these because i will "fall". ♡ my mother is scared shitless of water, so i once made a joke of how i would love to drown in the ocean and was immediately enrolled in a swimming class and that is how my dreams of dying among the phytoplankton and starfishes were destroyed. ♡ i love all types of fruits but banana tastes boring to me now and i also do not like watermelon for some reason. mango, kiwis, muskmelon, apples, oranges, and pineapple are my absolute fav. ♡ i used to have waist-length hair, very wavy and very thick, it was gorgeous but i hated having to maintain that so i cut it off and got a boycut. after that it has grown to a small dora the explorer length hair and it makes me look really innocent so i like this look.

and ofc you cant forget the lovely moots: @napoftustar @thejudeduarte @you-are-my-king-now-cariad @isthataraccoon @technicallyeldritch @ackerbabezzz @batzswrld @archerons-elain @ficnoire2 @sweetestblacktea @bloodmaarked @okeyisenough @thevoidhasarrived @goosemeggs @gewoonaardig2 @massiveladycat @infamouslyclumsy @literally-mariah @simzmil @tum-naam-sochlo-merese-ni-hora @refreshinglyemodemons @sweetdeerart

༊*·˚hope your day is as pretty as your smile ;)

#this looked better in light mode on pc ngl #intro post #blog intro #introduction #pinned intro #booklr #moots

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chocochipjewel · 9 months ago

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Belos artdump!

I couldn't draw anything new for the WaD anniversary like I'd initially hoped so I figured I might as well just post some of my old art

My Belos analysis

This one's just a sketch attempting to mimic the show's art style, done a few days after the finale initially aired.

This one was done for Thanks to Them's anniversary last year. Always wanted to get this posted eventually haha

And this one's my best work. I did this... 10 months ago? I haven't drawn ToH in a really long time lol.

This was inspired off his various faces that all come together to make the full character in the show, complete with colourcoding. Purple for the 'innocent' child, blue for the serene masked emperor, red for the unmasked monster inside, and green for the human he once used to be.

One last thing - I made a super cringe playlist of songs that remind me of the Wittebanes and I'm really nervous about sharing it but if anyone would be interested, I'd be willing to drop the link in the comments (and I mean it when I say cringe.)

Anyways I've already talked about him more than enough today, so hope anyone who sees this enjoys the art!

#toh #the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #belosfanstakeover #my art #jewel makes art

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starkfridays · 5 months ago

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people I’d like to get to know better

Tagged by the talented @pinkamour1588 ☺️ - I enjoyed reading yours!

Currently watching:

youtube

This is such a boss edit. I’ve been watching lots of TZP interviews and FirstPrince edits on YT. I have RWRB on repeat.

My bestie got me on a rewatch of Legally Blonde and the new Mean Girls recently. And then there’s American Fiction (TZP’s got taste in film recs!). I want to watch Sing Sing.

Spicy/sweet/savoury: Predominantly sweet, but been getting into those spicy-savoury Mexican flavours since RWRB (can you tell it’s influenced my life and expanded my palate? 😝)

Current obsession: ACD/TZP and RWRB. 😌 Also strength training and getting back into sports (just did another post about it). I have the US and UK versions of the collector’s edition of RWRB, and the Spanish and German ebook version too. Along with the standard version. Partly to practice languages, but mostly because I love the book to bits.

Relationship status: Single - had some not so great experiences (read: been cheated on) that helped shape what I’d like out of relationship, so I guess it’s a work in progress. Blessed with wonderful friends who have supported me and reminded me of my worth though, and that’s what’s up!

Last song I listened to: “Contigo” by Karol G & Tiësto. It’s incredibly ACD-coded. I heard it played at the gym I go and I was like whoa, immediate add to my ACD playlist (which I’m listening to right now).

It just transitioned to “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis. I contain multitudes. HAHAHAHAHA

I’d love to hear from: @mylucayathoughts @almightaylor @myteavsricochet @slutzp @handotcom @violeblanche @sugarycloud1 @papiercranes @elliss-stuff and anyone who’s game!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #tag games #Youtube

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thighzp · 10 months ago

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For those who prefer to read on tumblr over AO3, here is the newest chapter I posted today! I'll be posting in both places to get maximum eyes on the work. Now do enjoy, because I made myself horny on the LORD'S DAY to write this, as Skippy would have wanted!

(tagging those who showed love on the original post! @itsalinh, @fanfic-keeps-me-sane, @alexgraphyy, @arrpegio, @hawklovesskippy)

Here are some important visuals for you lovely readers: Picture 1950s Hawk and Tim for the 2012 flashbacks, okay? That innocent little dorky Skippy smile melts my fucking heart. And I personally find Hawk to be very daddy in the 50s (before he was actually even a daddy). I'm thinking up titles, and I have a playlist of songs going that will inspire certain chapters of the book, so chapter titles will be coming soon as well with lyrics of songs that inspired each installment. Gird your loins, we're jumping right into some light to medium smut. ***

The loud music thumped in Tim’s ears as he pushed through the crowded bar. It was the first weekend of his graduate program at Georgetown and he, against his better judgment, agreed to meet up with some classmates he met at orientation. He never went out much in undergrad, mostly opting to stay in his dorm room and study or catch up on his shows while his other peers stumbled through the streets of the small college town.

Now that he had one degree under his belt, he felt like it was time to be a damn adult and see what the bar scene was like in his new city. Besides, at least he was now 21 and didn’t get that pins-and-needles feeling across his skin when he handed a bouncer his ID. Even if his fake that he’d acquired through his freshman roommate did look enough like him and he had memorized the address and date of birth of the man on the card, it still made him extremely squirrely and anxious and usually resulted in ducking out of the line and telling his friends he forgot he had work he needed to catch up on.

The bar was dark and filled with bodies, Tim’s brow already beginning to sweat as the music pulsated with his heartbeat. He finally shoved his way up to the bar and shouted for the bartender to bring him the same beer the guy before him had just ordered. He set down enough cash to cover the single beer as well as a tip, and turned his back toward the bar.

Tim leaned back against the counter, elbows propped up behind him on either side. He perused the crowd for anyone he recognized from orientation this past week. His gaze failed to fall upon any familiar faces, but he did catch the eye of another man across the bar. His heart leapt into his throat and he took a sip of the amber colored ale to try to push it down.

The man was older than him by at least ten years. This was not a concern for Tim, as most of his past lovers were well above his own demographic. The man was sipping his cocktail through the skinny black straw bobbing over the top of the drink. His blue eyes were locked on Tim, and Tim could feel his cheeks getting hot.

He subtly tried to look to his right and left to make sure that the man’s eyes were, in fact, trained on him. The man removed his lips from his drink and one corner of his mouth drew upward, indicating that Tim’s attempt at being covert had definitely failed. Tim let out a breathy chuckle to himself and threw the man a wink. Taking this as an invitation, the man began to walk towards him.

Tim pushed his back off the bar and began walking to meet the man on the dance floor. Though he did not go out much to the college bars with his friends over the past four years, he had plenty of experience meeting men in bars around his hometown. He knew the game and he had to admit, he played it well.

The man’s eyes never broke contact as they squeezed through a sea of bodies to get to one another. Once they reached each other in the mass of drunken college students, the man leaned down into Tim's ear, and just loudly enough over the music, said, “Your lips look so pretty wrapped around that beer bottle.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat at the man’s forwardness. He’d encountered many a pickup line, but none that sent the blood rushing from his head and into his pants quite like that one. The man towered over him by at least 5 inches, to where Tim had to crane his neck up to meet the man’s gaze. Using his thumb and forefinger, Tim adjusted his thick framed glasses and on tiptoe, he placed his mouth right next to the man’s ear. His voice came out deeper than he expected, and thank God, because inside he felt his heart squealing like a little girl.

“So you think I’m pretty?”

With his one free hand, the man grabbed Tim’s waist and pulled him close. Tim was pleased with his choice of words, as he could now feel the man’s hard-on pressed against his leg. It took every ounce of self control Tim had not to rip this man’s clothes off in front of all these people. The man read Tim’s mind, or perhaps recognized the animalistic look in Tim’s eyes, as he grabbed Tim’s hand and began leading him off of the dance floor.

Once they reached the edge of the crowd, the man wasted no time before setting both of their drinks down on an empty table and pushing Tim against the nearest surface, which was the wall next to the men’s bathroom. Tim’s back was against the wall with the man’s massive hand cradling the back of his neck. The man used his other hand to place it under Tim’s stubble and tilt his chin up until their lips were millimeters apart, both men breathing heavily.

“Do you do this often?” Tim asked breathily. “Cruise for younger men at the college bars?”

“Ouch,” the man had a pained expression, though the sultry smirk never left his lips. “How old do you think I am?”

Tim gently nipped at the man’s neck, trailing light kisses upward until he reached the man’s ear. “Old enough to know better than to start something unless you want to finish it.”

The man pressed his hips against Tim’s, closing the space between the two of them and kissing Tim so deeply that he nearly choked on his breath. “How about this,” the man said as he pulled away from Tim’s desperate lips. “I’m gonna go close my tab, and when I get back here, if you’re still here, I’d like for you to come home with me.”

Tim rocked his hips against the man one more time before pulling away, “I’ll go get us a cab.” The man practically growled in Tim’s ear, placed a sloppy kiss just below Tim’s earlobe, and turned his attention back toward the crowded room. Tim watched as the man’s broad, muscular shoulders and back towered over the tiny women he had to push through to get back to the bar. He felt a surge of pride as he watched these college girls ogle at the man he was about to go home with. If only they knew, he thought, that the man’s stature clearly translated to other things of impressive size, if the feeling against Tim’s thigh had been any indication.

Tim finally tore his gaze from the man as he turned and exited the back door of the bar. As he stepped out into the hot August night, his ears still ringing from the loud music, he looked down the street and held up a hand to hail a taxi. A handful of other people were on the curb trying to do the same, a group of raucous frat boys jumping in the first cab that pulled up. Just as well, Tim thought. His suitor had not met him out back yet anyway.

Just then, the back door of the bar opened and his conquest emerged into the dark night. It did not require many strides of his long legs before he was back in front of Tim, grabbing his face and driving their lips together. The man’s lips were hot on Tim’s as he closed the space between their bodies once again. Tim felt something twitch in his pants at the thought of onlookers in this dark alley behind the bar, watching the two men, all hands and lips and teeth.

The man leaned down to kiss and bite at Tim’s neck, just above the collar of his shirt. While the man was sucking and licking at a spot of his skin, Tim took in the surroundings. He was sure the man was going to leave a mark, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying a bit of voyeurism. Groups of girls whispering as they passed the men, missing available taxis that passed by because they were too busy in their moment of passion.

Then, Tim saw a man leaning up against the back door of the bar, having a smoke just under the bright security light that lit up the back alley. With two fingers, the stranger removed the cigarette from between his lips as he kept his eyes locked on Tim, his expression unreadable. Tim threw his head back as his own stranger placed his hand on his ass, clawing desperately at the smaller man. The man with the cigarette ashed it on the brick wall of the bar, ran a hand through his hair, and folded his arms. He wasn’t even pretending not to watch. He was enjoying the show that Tim was putting on for him.

Tim created a fantasy in his head of the stranger joining himself and his suitor in the back of the cab, the three of them fervently swapping sloppy kisses on the way to the original man’s home. Though he already had one man locked in for the night, the man who was whispering absolute filth in Tim’s ear about all the things he wanted to do to him, Tim couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have the two men worshiping his body at once. The dimly lit stranger shifted on his feet, appearing to become uncomfortable at the tightness in his own pants.

The fantasy world Tim had created was fractured when his suitor pulled away and finally flagged down a taxi. He opened the car door for Tim like a gentleman and slapped Tim’s ass as he climbed into the back seat. The man told the driver the address of their final location for the night. As the cab began pulling away from the bar, Tim watched as the stranger stomped out his cigarette, turned on his heels, and disappeared into the dark of the night.

#professor hawk #hawk x skippy #hawk and skippy #hawk and tim #hawkins fuller #tim laughlin #tim x hawk #hawk x tim #fellow travelers

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liketwoswansinbalance · 1 year ago

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Man's Fallibility & Immortality

I found a practically perfect song, by my interpretation, to add to my Rise to Fall playlist. (I haven't cleaned up/updated the playlist fully, so I'm not posting the whole thing yet, but I think this particular song warrants its own post.)

First, listen to the song: Nothing's New - Rio Romeo

Then, what follows below is something of a tragedy-analysis, abstract, meta-thing/omniscient prose narration experiment. I don't know what it is—an outpouring of thoughts. It may strike a similar chord as my narration at the end of Simony and its epilogue.

(Simony was a prediction fic I wrote before the publication of Fall. An extremely erroneous one though. I still think it could work, but oh, how wrong I was.

The direction Soman took the plot in, just, it was unpredictable, even if I did enjoy the book. I still like Rise better than Fall though, of the duology. If Rise had just ended at the point of: Vulcan is dead, Rafal tortures his students, and the brothers gradually learn to trust each other again, that would've been nice and comforting, honestly. But no, substitutes, substitutes, substitutes! On both sides. Drives me insane. Ack! But, I have four, short fics planned that have alternate endings to Rise and to Fall, to make up for it. Well, one of them is so far a little longer, three chapters long.)

If anyone wants me to analyze the actual lyrics more closely, I'm willing to do that too!

⸻

The tales.

They are all the same.

Good winning, Evil winning.

What difference does it make after centuries, really?

Everything probably feels numb and empty after a certain point.

Like nothing matters anymore.

Undiluted apathy after that certain point.

When? I've lost track.

When losses and victories all ring hollow, and all sound the same.

The End.

That's all It wrote.

The sum of lives distilled down to ink and illustrations.

Nothing beyond that. No life, no spark.

What more is there? When nothing will ever satisfy the restless souls, not even an Ending all to themselves.

Just pages that will yellow with time even if the stories themselves are timeless because nothing changes.

Nothing ever changes.

There's no evolution.

Every tale is the same.

It becomes nothing after nothing, not victory after victory, when you're ageless like we are.

And how, if that's how it is?

Why bother?

Why bother at all?

It's a cycle that continues, with or without the brothers.

Ceaseless.

So, why should it matter?

It's the same with or without them.

Their position was always ceremonial.

After a while, anyone becomes tiring. Anyone.

And one person just isn't enough, when you have no one else.

No one else to shield you.

It gets old. The love just... fades, and wears out.

Perhaps, human love can only span for so long, and that's why humans are mortal.

Made mortal, and no one should traverse beyond that.

It always leads to hubris, and then, a fall.

An unnatural fear of death trained into them, when limits were never set, when power was never checked, when they expected to have all the time in the world.

Nothing is built to last. At least, not by the Storian.

It does whatever it pleases.

You can't extend a life past its time.

It will always end in ruin. Isn't that the lesson the storybooks teach?

A cautionary tale.

Again and again, the cycle continues.

Every failed holy-grail of immortality, every spilled cup drawn from the fountain of youth, every cursed head of lettuce, every white snake, every chalice of sleeping draught that led to execution after execution, every baptism that succumbed to primordial wickedness, every impoverished fisherman's hovel?

Why not a tale about two brothers?

One where two are felled.

To caution against mortal greed that even immortality can't peel away.

To caution against always wanting more until you're left with nothing.

Nothing at all.

Just like how you can't truly resurrect anyone as who they once were, you can't revive the soul that a person once was.

And you can't play at being God because it defies the rules of nature.

And all that we know about transience and permanence and how ephemeral everything else is.

Everything but Man, who vies to leave a legacy wherever he goes, at any price, even at the cost of his soul, not life.

⸻

Now, I do wonder if I made anyone emotional? I certainly tried this time around, to be a provocateur like Soman is. Tell me what you think, if you want.

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soop-musical-fool · 2 years ago

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Ok I said I would make a pin full of music so here it is

First off, I mentioned KNOWER. It's a long project that started a really long time ago, but their best stuff is probably coming out like right now. As in, they are just about to release a new album, KNOWER FOREVER. The singles on it are incredible, like I'm The President just comes right out the gate with the fattest walkdown I've ever heard from a horn section. The B section makes it feel like I'm enjoying a song like I would a multiple-course meal. Then Crash The Car just transfixes you. Yes, yes, you should listen to those, but don't neglect the fire they put out in 2017 because you owe it to yourself to watch the live sesh of Overtime:

youtube

Oh god this post is gonna make viewing my blog super annoying isn't it

Anyway the next thing I gotta mention is Vulfpeck. These guys are famous for scamming Spotify, basically. They released an album full of 30-second tracks of pure silence, just absolutely nothing, titled Sleepify. They got online and said "Yo guys, help us raise money for a free concert by listening to this on loop while you sleep." What they were actually doing was exposing a loophole in the way Spotify calculated royalties, and before they could pull the album (citing "content policy violations," of course), Vulfpeck had already bagged around $20,000, so they put on the completely admission-free Sleepify Tour, which was incredibly fucking based of them.

Vulf went on to become several spin-off projects, all entirely independently released and full of some of the stankiest funk fusion that I cannot stop listening to.

My favorite of these projects, The Fearless Flyers, is headed by Cory Wong, with a guitar idol of mine for 5+ years Mark Lettieri and of course the government subsidized active bass of Joe Dart, but the keystone of the group is no doubt Nate Smith on drums. Dude makes a three-piece set onstage sound like a full kit.

Like just look at what they can do with the added power of sax:

youtube

And yeah, I could just talk about those guys, but let's get weirder.

I'm talking modal. The kind of stuff that makes my choir-trained mother cringe inward at the dissonance. Let's talk about the crunchiest, most feral fucking harmonies and keyboard solos that make you question what you thought you knew about chord progressions and key centers.

Obviously anyone super into this stuff will have already heard of Jacob Collier, so I won't show him. But THIS:

I listened to this the first time and it was just.. too much. I put it in its own specific playlist titled "very complex shit" immediately. When I went back to it, enough time had passed and I had learned enough that after way too many listens I can actually follow along with this insanity. This track blew my fucking mind, dude. I have never heard a chorus use so many of the 12 chromatic notes and still sound heavenly. The groove changes add so much texture. The flute solo goes off way too hard. The slower final section is just disgusting syncopation when the drums come back in. Everything about it is incredible, and this album came out in 2007. I am staring back at years of my life I spent not listening to this and ruminating my lack of music theory knowledge. And when I wanted to see if some kind transcribing jazz grad student like June Lee had uploaded anything of System, I found a 2020 reboot with 24 musicians playing System for over twice its original runtime, and guess who did the showstopping final solo??

JACOB FUCKING COLLIER.

Look him up if you don't know. The other musicians I obsess over inspire me. This guy makes me want to quit.

#196 #r196 #rule #music #jazz funk #modal jazz #free jazz #jacob collier #music nerd #infodump #like massive autistic infodump #sorry again for this #oh btw #did you notice the four grammys behind him?#yeah

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theoriginalnikegirl · 11 months ago

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I'm finally to a point where im happy with ALL of my animorphs playlists so im making a new pinned post with all of them:

They are all (except one) in the vicinity of an hours length bc i made these to share and i feel like you should be able to listen to any of these in a single sitting, two tops. I feel like you'll be able to tell who's who but I'll provide brief (ish) explanations under the cut just in case you care

While there are six playlists above there is not one for Ax. This is because while Ax appreciates many things about human culture he canonically dislikes music and also I can't even begin to fathom what he would listen to if he did

Meanwhile, Rachel has two playlists. This is because she is my favorite character and I think about her most often. One of her playlists "the original nike girl" breaks my "in the vicinity of an hour" promise but it's also more vibes based than any of the other playlists and the only one that's meant to be listened to on shuffle.

Her other playlist "Dirty Work" is based around my understanding of Rachel's character arc: her death was pointed to in the opening pages of the series and the entire length of the series was an exercise in a whole hecking lot of people (crayak/Drode, Jake, David, Cassie & Marco to an extent, etc) gaslighting her about what kind of person she was so that we could all sit here and say "Oh bUt shE wOUldN't bE aBLe To fUNcTioN WitHOuT tHe wAr" which to be clear is *not more true of her than any of the rest of them*. Yes I will die mad about this.

In Marco's playlist "RUTHLESS" my idea was really to challenge the idea that he coped with the end of the war better than the rest of them. Like, just because his coping mechanisms are higher-functioning than Jake's or Tobias' does not mean he's doing well. The entire series Marco acts like he's fine with the stress of the war and the *whole thing* with his mom but he is pretty clearly never for a single second fine, and personally I don't think that would be any different after the war. And I think I really managed to convey that with the frenetic tempo of this playlist so im really stinking proud of it

Cassie's playlist "to save some lives" has Americana/bluegrass/gospel/folksy vibes and I managed to incorporate a lyrical motif across several songs of going to a body of water and drawing from it until it was dry which convinced me of an interpretation of Cassie's character and role on the team being (what the other animorphs see as) a bottomless resource of justification for their actions which we see when Jake demands she justify creating the auxiliarymorphs in 50 and she finally has to say "okay. Then it's wrong. But we're going to do it anyway" and how that energy might carry her as the only survivor of the war

Jake's playlist "Brother Against Brother" is part of my ongoing campaign to rewrite the beaver book bc CIVIL WAR IMAGERY IS PARTICULARLY SALIENT TO JAKE FOR A FREAKING REASON. Ahem. But I am fixated on how personal and immediate the stakes of the war are for Jake specifically because he literally shares a roof with the enemy.

And finally we come to Tobias' playlist "A Kind of Freedom" which gestures at my understanding of Tobias as someone who wants to be happy at the same time he as he wants to wallow. he wants to sit in his sadness. and he does. And I am not judging him here because I was the exact same way when I was his age (which makes his books very hard to reread now) because he, unlike me, was not afforded the chance to grow up and learn what it felt like not sit in his sadness. Anyways yada yada yada there's a reason he didn't answer when the Ellimist asked him if he was happy.

Anyway, if anyone's read all this, I hope you enjoy these playlists as well!

#Spotify #playlists #animorphs playlists #animorphs #animorphs spoilers #jake animorphs #jake berenson #rachel animorphs #rachel berenson #tobias animorphs #I WILL NOT call him tobias fangor but i will tag it #tobias fangor #marco animorphs #cassie animorphs #my post

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firefly--bright · 2 years ago

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laal ishq.

[English - red love. ]

a blooming hearts extra!

jean kirstein x gender neutral!reader

inspired by this song and the new episode. scroll to the end for the symbolisms ;)

warnings : heavy angst, grief, violence and gunshots/wounds. (should be expected at this point) new episode/manga spoilers!!!! i haven't watched the new ep yet (I'm not ready) so it's more based on the manga chapter 132 so read at your own risk!

a/n: i love this song so much it's a Hindi/Bollywood song (back when Bollywood made actually good songs) and i listened to this so much and there's so much symbolism in it that i had to write something angsty :) anyway! i also have exams coming up in like a week so this might be the last fic i post for a while. enjoy!

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody , @a10vely-yutazen .

✿ main masterlist is in pinned navigation! ✿ enter my taglist ✿ fic playlist ✿ fic pinterest board ✿ comments/reblogs/likes are deeply appreciated!! ✿

you heard the gunshot far before you felt it; the final bell. you wondered if all the authors of the books you'd read as a cadet - the ones where the main character gets tragically shot or stabbed only to be healed again inexplicably - had ever been here before. had ever felt death like this, face to face.

death, shockingly, didn't grin menacingly at you like you thought it would. it didn't look over you (not any less than it already had been since the moment you'd joined the scouts), making you feel small and guilty and regretful.

this death; the one you faced with your eyes blown wide and a diminishing heartbeat, felt more like an embrace. in a flash, you caught dark brown eyes and a freckled face looking at you with the same look you've seen a hundred times before. in a flash, a picture of a brown haired girl with her mouth opened wide as if she were about to say something came before you.

it went away before you could grasp it.

but the pain, the blinding hot sensation aimed right at your heart, felt like it would last for eternity. the shape the bullet had cut out might have been a small fracture but it felt like the widest puncture, straight through the organs you had memorized the names of during your cadet days. the inside of your body lined itself up with flames even if you weren't on fire.

is this how sasha felt? her forever smiling face and warm touches did not deserve this pain, you thought. then again, none of your friends did.

in a foolish way, you were glad it was you and none of the others that were left. they were far too important for that. they would have much more of an impact than you would.

the blood dyed your shirt and in a moment of desperation, your hands clambered up to your chest to stop the wound from bleeding out. it was stupid to think that your feeble hands could help this, but you had to try.

(for him.)

you shuddered out a breath, your vision was getting cloudy. you didn't know how you were still standing up-right. you couldn't feel your legs or the way your knees stumbled or the way your hands shook fervently. spots appeared in the corner of your eyes as you looked around, trying to say something.

what would you say? what could you say?

when you've been running away from death for so long, who were you to stop fate with simple words or even desperate pleadings?

your ears were ringing but you could still hear the shouts; your friends scattered across the port as the workers busied themselves trying to weld the fuel tank shut. floch was in a worse condition than you and you wondered if he was still speaking, even after all of this. you wondered if anyone was looking, if anyone noticed your state. even if they did, the sounds of the terrifying footsteps and the tremble of the ground kept them busy.

you whispered out "jean" the best you could without your soul giving out completely, your staggering voice getting lost with the shaking of the earth. barely feeling your knees buckle, you decided this was it.

you would give victory to the death that had chased you for a long time. the death that you pushed aside that day the walls fell, the death that you swung past the day you saved jean and armin from their own fate. countless times, you had fought the cold touch without even realising it's icy breath.

maybe the worst part was that you were still hoping. you had already strapped in your ODM gear like you had done so many times before, hoping this one would be the last time you'd have to resort to violence. you could almost laugh at that thought if it hadn't hurt so much to breathe. you were so fully prepared to fight, to resolve, to hope for better days ahead after all of this. maybe that was your flaw - no matter how much jean convinced you otherwise. it always had been, your head had always been elsewhere, dreaming of a better place while your body carried out its own fight.

you let out a sigh. there was no light that sasha told you about - one of the many tales her grandmother had narrated to her. there was nothing to follow, nowhere to go. you eyes fluttered shut when even the dimness became to bright for you to handle.

flochs incoherent babbling was almost inaudible and jean had to resort to reading his lips rather than try to hear anything. he felt like he was running out of time. hange said something about not being able to give up, and in all honesty, jean wanted to clog up his ears again and close his eyes to hope the same way you did. hope that eren would atleast listen and stop this, hope that after this you'd spend your days together, hope that one day, his friends would share a meal without thinking about war.

his hand wandered to it's left without even thinking, hoping to find yours to link itself with.

jeans brows furrowed when he felt nothing but cold air greet him.

you were right there, weren't you? on his left like you always had been?

he knew you couldn't be lost. you'd be too adamant to help out all the workers instead of view the rumbling from afar, away from all the shouting. you were never one for being lost in violent thoughts, always pushing yourself headfirst with any and all work you could get your hands on as a way of distracting yourself.

jean looked around infront of him, scanning the place. hange followed his confusion.

"where's poppy?" he asked, only to be met with a half-hearted shrugged from the leader.

"sir!" he heard someone shout, a terrified shriek following the sound.

jean stood before he could even think, head whipping around to find the sight.

a pool of blood surrounding a previously white shirt, and gear that could only belong to one of the nine wearing them. the hand his fingers were desperately searching for was now drenched in red.

jeans head whirred with questions. his heart felt like it was burning, a sensation that was new to him. his leg moved him before he could make sense of anything happening.

your struggled breaths met his ears with an ache, and something in his chest shook with so much force, he felt like he would collapse if it weren't for the heavy machinery clinging to his body.

it was only when the soles of his feet touched the blood that jean felt like he couldn't breathe.

a string of curses left his mouth before he could even stop it, and the years spent trying to be a good leader went into the drain as the strong, honest and passionate section commander collapsed next to his lover's body with a clambering breath and shaking hands.

he felt his knees as they hit the ground, the blood - your blood - staining through his pants.

he didn't care about the stains or the status or the stares of everyone around him. you were on the ground in the way that he only had nightmares about; nightmares that you woke him up from, comforting him until his fear subsided.

your eyes are almost closed, he notes, and he wants to slap himself when his brain thinks of how long you laid like this waiting for him.

he didn't waste another second scooping you gently into his arms. you groan weakly as his forearms flex, and he tried not to let the string of curses fall from his mouth. he was pretty sure he was uttering them anyway. he had a bad habit of cursing, a habit you laughed at whenever he did. he cursed incoherently after you first kissed him. he'd remember that laugh forever.

your head nestles in the crook of his arm as he holds on to you and the bitter hope he refuses to let go of. your eyelashes flutter, and he brings his hand up to your wound, cursing his palms as they shake with force.

"no, no, no, no, no, no. please. please." are all the words that can come out of his mouth as he touches his warm forehead against your cooling one.

"it's okay." they croaked out. "we'll meet again."

jean could hear their hope. their usual honeyed tones had lost their light but they still held on to that one last string of bright dreams.

and despite himself, jean smiles. he breathes out shakily onto their paling skin.

jean didn't know if their friends knew about this. jean didn't know if hange was alright, if their promise of protecting them was fulfilled till their last breath. all the loss that occurred in the matter of seconds made jean feel trapped inside a small box, one that only you could pull him out of.

your noses were touching. jean left a kiss to your mouth, fleeting but with all the love he had stored through the years. he adjusted your head so your lips could graze his chest one last time.

a promise, he hoped. his heart would find yours again and love it just the same if not more.

the last time he saw your face was one he refused to remember. he refused to remember your closed eyes and shuddered final breath and pale skin. your body was left on the ground with no real grave to mark it, no-one to remember your body except the years he spent memorizing it.

he was aware of Connie's crumbling presence as both of them boarded the flying boat. the actions jean made in order to get that machine flying were only half registered by his brain. the boat rattled as they sat in silence.

"where... where's (y/n)?" Armin asked. jean flinched for the first time in years.

his face was not tear stricken yet. as much as he wanted to, he could not collapse. no matter how hard his bones begged him to rest, his mind ran rampant and his heart refused to slow down.

the question, however, finally broke him.

his vision blurred as silent tears flowed down his cheeks. his chest felt like it was giving up, collapsing onto itself, and the rattling of the flying boat felt like mere background noise when he clamped his ears with his palms. the underside of his nails was caked in your blood and the thought itself make him shut his eyes tighter than before.

if his friends spoke, he didn't hear it. Mikasa and Connie's presence next to him felt overshadowed by his all consuming guilt.

he wasn't there. he didn't notice your fall before you touched the ground, hell, he wasn't even looking at you when floch shot everything in his blurring vision. jean should've been there, in your place. jean should have been there to spend atleast a few more moments with you.

were you with them now? marco, sasha, and all the other cadets you had befriended while jean stayed stuck in his ways as a teenager? did marco greet you with open arms and sasha greet you with a kiss on the cheek?

he tried to convince himself you were resting now, finally. he tried to tell himself that you were fine, that your friends and fallen comrades would embrace you into the afterlife. but he couldn't.

you were happiest with him, and selfishly, he wanted you here.

that's how it was supposed to be. you promised a large house uphill with two cats and your warm laughter, while he would read the sunday paper and drink his cooled down tea and eat his sugared toast. his mother would visit you on the longer weekends and you promised you'd learn all his favourite dishes - ones he knew you'd like too.

he had a plan. his future was built around you and for you.

what was he supposed to build his future around now? an empty apartment with the lack of a floral perfume in the air with no decor whatsoever? with no-one to make it a home?

Connie's hand rested on his back as jean clutched his head, resting his elbows on his knees.

he knew this was far from over but he craved so badly for it to be done with.

he heard something being spoken to him. Mikasas voice wavered when she spoke, something she had never done before. Armin lost hope before even knowing the answer to his previous question, and Connie's hand had never felt so distant. jean's own guilt outweighed even reiners, and Levi sat in his own silence as he witnessed the fall of two of the people that meant the most to him.

jean felt everything slip away from his grasp. he wished his mother had prepared him for this, but he knew all the training and learning in the world wouldn't stop him from feeling the way he was right now. he knew that even if he did know the outcome of your life, the way it ended right before his eyes, he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

he'd love you with all his unshakable might as he's loved you once before and maybe even lifetimes before this. maybe even universes beyond this cruel one.

his eyes opened with a start. his nightmares had been few and far in between, a rare occurence that his body no longer knew how to deal with.

his heart hammered in his chest as he clasped a hand over it, no longer bloodied, no longer as calloused or scarred. the soft weight on his shoulder made him look down in the dim of the night lamp in your shared room.

you laid there, eyes closed prettily, a little drool slipping past your lips. his breathing was still erratic, but you didn't seem to mind it much as you cuddled up to him. your arms wound around his chest, determined to engulf his frame with futile and sleepy efforts.

and despite himself, jean smiled.

you were alive. breathing and warm and clad in his shirt, alive. you didn't need to know about his nightmare, not until a couple days atleast, when it would slip out in conversation. you'd grow incredibly concerned, asking him to wake you up if it ever happened again so you could help him through it. he would shake his head, rolling his eyes and tell you not to baby him to which you'd respond with a slap to his arm.

for now, though, he pushed the thought of his nightmare aside. pressing a kiss to your forehead, he ducked down to kiss the tip of your nose as well.

your lips twitched in your sleep and jean smiled wider.

he finally gave in to the rest his bones so dearly craved.

he woke up the next day fully awake, to the scent of warm tea and sweet toast.

extra a/n! : okay so this song literally translates to what hues love is. it calls love anguished and flawed and i thought it would be very fitting for jean and poppy because after poppy's death, that's how jean felt about love. he thought it was futile, that even after all his efforts in the next life, it would result to the same outcome. the colour of love (laal - red) to me meant the colour of poppies and the blood staining them, and also the love that takes place in Jean's heart in the next universe - the one that he has stored only for you. there's a verse in the song where it basically states that the singer is contemplating whether to grab the moon and change the darkness of the night to the brightness of the day and he made his lover his enemy because he couldn't handle the love that he felt for them. (i haven't seen the movie from which the song is from but this is solely my interpretation) so i wanted to end it with a nightmare-ish sequence where jean wakes up and even if he used to hate nights after poppy died because the bed would be too empty, he loved the nights he spends with you now. the love runs too deep for him to ignore and be your enemy instead, so he (unlike the song) chooses to embrace it with you.

and then there's also a repetition where the singer just says "my name is love, your name is love" over and over again and i just think its what jean feels about you that you are love itself etc etc :)

hope you guys enjoyed this!!!!

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x you #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

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