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hellfire-state-of-mind · 10 months ago

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Clandestine

pairing: Mr. Ben x fem! reader

rating: Mature (things get a lil heated 👀)

word count: 4.5k

summary: Mr. Ben is daddy, Ms. Jenny is mommy and they’re all a happy family at St. Lawrence High School, no crumbs left. But what happens when the cool aunt moves to town?

warnings: i did my best to leave out specific descriptions of reader except that she does have breasts and wear feminine clothing, infidelity, swearing, alcohol consumption, some heavy making out and implied smut, Ben has a daddy kink (as always, please message me if i missed anything)

a/n: my second submission for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift writing challenge! this one is based on "illicit affairs" from her album, folklore. being one of my top 3 albums of hers, i was excited for this prompt but i laughed so hard when Kel paired it with Mr. Ben 🤣 i had a ton of fun sprinkling in references (as well as a few extra swiftie ones too, if you look closely). this is also probably the longest fic i've ever written since i started writing years ago but this story really just took on a life of its own. i hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing and PS happy birthday, Pedro 😊

Teaching European History to a bunch of 10th graders is definitely not for the faint of heart, but the aftermath of the pandemic on the public education system only made the calling harder for you to ignore.

That’s why it meant so much to you when you discovered your students making fancams and claiming you as the “cool aunt.” You knew it was just their way of connecting with you and if it helped them pay attention in class and actually enjoy learning, what’s the harm? Some of the other teachers didn’t share your sentiment, but you were never one to much care about others’ opinions.

Until you met him.

Mr. Ben.

He and Ms. Jenny were the students’ absolute favorite teachers at the school, earning them the coveted titles of Mommy and Daddy. Their classrooms were both on the other side of the school in the math hall, so you never really saw them except at the monthly after-school faculty meetings. But one morning a piece of mail intended for Mr. Ben had been left in your mailbox in the front office by mistake, so you made the journey into uncharted territory.

Reading the plaques on each door, you almost thought you were in the wrong hallway when his name finally appeared on the last one at the end. It was slightly cracked so you could hear the scratching of chalk as he wrote on the board. Knocking lightly to announce your presence, you waited to hear him acknowledge you before walking in. His classroom was decorated to feel bright and cozy and welcoming, soft music emanating from the area near his desk. And the man standing in front of the chalkboard certainly fit the vibe. Soft but sturdy, carefully styled curls threatening to break free. You immediately understood why he was your students’ beloved and had them in a chokehold. You felt your cheeks heat for a moment when he cleared his throat to catch your attention, having been staring in silence for a bit too long.

“Can I help you with something?” Even his voice was so father.

“Um, yes. Sorry. I think some of your mail ended up in my box on accident.” You approached him, holding out the thin envelope. “It’s right underneath yours so it’s an easy mistake to make if you’re not careful.”

His thick fingers brushed yours as he took it from you, and you tried to steady your breath as you felt their brief warmth radiate up your arm. “Oh, good catch. Thank you.” He turned to place them on his desk and you were prepared for that to be the end of it, but he focused his attention back on you. “You’re new this year, right? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ben.” Extending his hand back out to you, you swallowed hard before taking it and replying with your own name. He repeated it back to you in understanding and you nearly melted at the way it effortlessly rolled off his tongue. The bell indicating the beginning of first period interrupted you before the conversation could continue any further. Bidding him a rushed farewell, you hurried back to the sanctuary of your own classroom across campus.

That was months ago. By the end of the year, the passing gestures became more frequent so that you were thankful for summer break to give yourself some time away from the man who had no idea his foot was always on your neck. Finally, you could breathe.

The weeks passed quickly and now you’re hauling boxes of school supplies across the parking lot. It’s the week before classes start anew and all of the teachers are trickling back in to ready their classrooms. You’ve just deposited the cardboard box on your desk when your phone chimes with a reminder about the faculty meeting in 5 minutes. You grab your lanyard, weighed down with your ID and keys, and head for the library.

When you arrive, everyone has already taken their seats so the only one available is next to him. Mr. Ben. Steeling yourself, you try to appear casual as you take your place. Feeling your movement, Ben looks over at you and flashes a captivating smile that you return without a second thought.

“Welcome back, kid. Have a good summer?” He launches into the usual teacher small talk but it’s not at all uncomfortable.

“I did. And yours?”

“Not bad. Nothing special, really.”

You hum in acknowledgement before Principal Owens steps up to the front, signaling the start of the meeting. In that moment, you come to a realization that you can’t shake. Nudging Ben’s elbow with yours, you lean closer and keep your voice low.

“I haven’t seen Jenny around, is she feeling okay?”

He chuckles before picking up on your sincerity. “Oh, you didn’t hear? She transferred over to St. Augustine.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really? Can’t wait to break that to the students.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” He chuckles a little harder, earning a couple of sideways glances from others around you. You shrink into your seat a little as Ben attempts to cover with a cough.

You try to ignore the flutter in your heart, but you just have to know. “So are the two of you still…?” you trail off, hoping he picks up on your meaning so you don’t have to say it out loud.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re still together. One less heartbreak for the kids,” he jokes.

“Oh, good. That’s good.”

And you mean it. If he’s happy, you’re happy. But a pit has formed in your stomach and you lose yourself in thought until Principal Owens makes his final announcement.

“There has been yet another surge of fancams created over the summer so as part of the first-day assembly, we will be including a segment on responsible technology usage. Ben, since you ate up the last one, would you mind handling it? After all, it was nom nom delish and had them gagged.” A burst of laughter ripples through the room as Ben runs a hand through his hair, amused.

“Yeah, sure. What could possibly go wrong this time?”

“Thank you. And if it’s not too trouble, I’d like to pair you with our newest target,” Owens gestures to you, conveniently sitting in the same vicinity, “so dubbed the ‘cool aunt.’”

You feel the heat begin to creep up your neck as you realize the implications of the proposal. You look over to see Ben nod and shrug as if to say “why not.” Looking back to the front of the room, you smile and nod in acceptance of the project. Inside, you’re trying not to scream. You don’t notice Ben holding his gaze on your profile for the rest of the meeting.

You retreat to your classroom after you’re all dismissed, willingly losing yourself in paperwork and organizing when there’s an all-too-familiar knock on your door. You look up just as Ben steps over the threshold. And closes the door. And crosses to perch on the edge of your desk, giving you an optimal view of the way his jeans stretch over his sculpted thigh and ass.

“So, how are you feeling about this assembly next week?” He leans forward, propping himself up on one arm. You force yourself to not look at the veins winding and disappearing under his shirt sleeve and maintain eye contact, which isn’t much easier.

“Good. I mean, is it supposed to be scary? What happened last time?” You remember the way everyone reacted when Ben received the assignment.

He smiles and huffs a laugh at the memory. “Let’s just say I was in your shoes now. I was just so confused about the whole concept. But it gave Jenny and I the opportunity to officially come out as a couple, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

The pit in your stomach widened at the mention of Jenny again. “Well, I’m glad I’m working with someone so experienced then.” You mentally kick yourself at your choice of words. What the hell is that supposed to mean? You try to recover. “Honestly, I’m a little flattered. It means the kids are engaged.”

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, it is kinda nice that they look up to us like that. Even if it is a little…”

“Unorthodox?”

“Right. It took me forever to figure out what it meant to have rizz and be a skinny legend.” He almost can’t get through his sentence as he’s interrupted by his own wheezing laugh. He fights it off long enough to finish his thought. “But it looks like you’re in your assembly era now, so what do you say we meet up here tomorrow and put this presentation together?”

You quickly agree, both in excitement and eagerness to get him out so you can get ahold of yourself. Satisfied, he rises but stops before he fully walks away. “By the way, I really like that perfume you’re wearing. Vanilla?”

“A-and cherry,” you manage to choke out.

“My favorite.” He smirks before raising his hand in goodbye and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

The next week is a blur. You meet the next day to organize the presentation, as promised, but one conversation topic leads to another and before you realize what’s happening, Ben is putting his number into your phone. Then you’re giving him yours.

You keep telling yourself you’re just friends, like a mantra, but you can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the way he thinks you don’t notice how he inhales a little deeper when you lean into his personal space, taking in your scent. His favorite.

Even the assembly goes off without a hitch. Naturally, the students are disgruntled yet again at being reminded that fancams of their biases are banned, no matter how much they munch on it. But they seem to pick up on the friendship between their daddy and cool aunt and that’s enough to appease the juvenile masses.

You’re both dreading and looking forward to your free period. When comparing schedules, you and Ben discovered you had the same block open, so you agreed to make that a regular coffee break together. He’s already there when you walk in, bursting into his signature smile as you approach.

He stands and pulls your chair out to sit at the small table. “So, how’s the first day been?”

Accepting the gesture and trying not to read too much into it, you breathe out, “Pretty good. I can already tell that covering the Bubonic Plague is going to be interesting, but we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Once more, the two of you fall into an easy conversation when an ill-timed joke has you spilling your coffee. All over Ben’s tie. You immediately jump up, dashing to wet some paper towels. Ben rises to stop you, laughing at your mortification.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Hey,” he grasps your wrists, forcing you to turn and face him.

“I-I think I have a Tide pen in my room, I can go run and get it.”

“No need. I started keeping a spare in my desk years ago. You wouldn’t believe how often I spill coffee on myself.”

With that, you follow him back to his classroom. He closes the door behind you, crossing to his desk to rifle through the drawers, but you hang back. It’s only when he finally pulls out the replacement tie that you allow yourself to breathe and walk over.

Ben holds it up in jest. “See? Problem solved.” You hope he doesn’t hear the way you swallow hard as you watch him skillfully unwind his soiled tie from around his neck with one hand.

However, he struggles to knot the new tie and you speak up, “Need a hand with that?” You don’t know where the confidence came from.

He looks up at you, eyes a couple shades darker. “Would you?”

You round the desk and try to stop your hands from shaking as you reach up towards his chest. Your knuckles brush his soft button-up but before you can grip the decorative length of fabric, you feel Ben’s hands cradling your elbows. You slowly lock eyes with him, and the rest happens too fast for your brain to process.

Ben swiftly maneuvers you against the edge of his desk and leans in close, his nose to your temple, breathing you in. “You wear this just for me?”

You can’t lie to him. “Yes.”

He travels down to your pulse point where the perfume is applied, ghosting over the delicate skin there. “Good.”

He darts the tip of his tongue over the spot before moving to look you in the eyes once more, his hands journeying experimentally down to your waist. You’re fully trapped now. But you don’t want to escape.

He rests his forehead on yours as your eyes flit down to his mouth and back up. “Ben?”

“That’s not my name.”

You’re taken aback by his response for a moment before he leans in the tiniest bit more so you can feel the tickle of his mustache as he whispers, “What’s my name, baby?”

“Daddy,” you breathe out.

His lips twitch into a smirk before crashing against yours, sealing you to him.

Your escapades go on that way for months, innocently meeting in the teachers’ lounge to make your coffees and carrying them back to his classroom where they’re quickly abandoned. You easily get lost in each other, you perched on his desk as he stands between your thighs. You’ve discovered he likes it when you tangle your fingers in his curls, but you have to be careful not to muss them too much lest anyone catch onto your illicit activities.

You know it’s wrong. He and Jenny are still together, despite the different schools. Your mind is a constant whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. What if she finds out? Does she already know about you? Where do you stand?

But Ben is quick to make you forget your inner turmoil. You’re in your usual seat upon your throne of his desk, your blouse unbuttoned halfway to grant him access to your chest. His lips are latched to your collarbone, one hand cupping a breast and the other holding the knee you draped over his hip. You feel his hardness against your clothed core, knowing it must be painful for him. But you can’t cross that line. Not here.

As if rehearsed, Ben slows his movements to a halt, trailing his tongue back up your neck and jaw before reaching his final destination and molding your lips together. Wordlessly, you peel apart and put yourselves back together. You dare to break the silence.

“Ben?”

He looks back at you with those adorable baby browns that everyone at the school loves. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing, exactly. I just-” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “At the risk of sounding like a cliché, what about us?”

“I don’t understand,” he says with a furrowed brow.

“I mean. We’ve been doing…this for a while now. And I can’t deny that I’ve grown to love the thrill of sneaking around with you.” You slide off his desk to plant yourself firmly in front of him. “But…you and Jenny...I guess what I’m trying to figure out is-”

“What do we do?”

“Yeah.”

Ben lets out a sigh and adjusts his watch. Noticing the time, he reaches for your arm and the two of you walk to the door. But he puts his hand on the handle before you have the chance to turn it.

“I promise we’ll talk about this. Tonight? I’ll call you?”

You press your lips into a tight smile. “Yeah. Tonight.”

Ben removes his hand and you exit the room. As if on cue, the bell rings to signal the change of classes and you pick up your pace to make it through the sea of students back to your room in time for your next lesson.

He does call. And you do talk. But ultimately you agree not to change anything for now. He needs time to figure out where he and Jenny stand but neither of you can bear to let the other go in the meantime. You try to hide your growing disillusionment at your arrangement, but you can’t tell if you’re truly that good at pretending or if Ben actively ignores it.

It all comes to a head the morning you sleep through your alarm, recovering from your hushed over-the-phone activities the night before, and you forget to wear your perfume. His perfume.

You’ve assumed your position when Ben suddenly recoils.

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” You wrack your brain trying to interpret the question.

He slowly leans back in, inhaling deeply to make sure he didn’t just miss it. “Vanilla and cherry.”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh, B- Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

He nearly whines in disappointment. “Where is it?”

“I slept through my alarm. I must have been moving so fast this morning that I forgot it.” You twirl your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. “I’ll wear it tomorrow, I promise.” Ben still doesn’t look at you. You tug a little harder, forcing his attention. “Hey. It was an honest mistake, I-”

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question jars you even more than the first. You want to reassure him but you can’t form the words and your hesitation speaks volumes.

“Baby, why didn’t you say something?” Ben pulls away completely now, leaning up against the chalkboard.

“What could I say, Ben?” You’re emboldened now, matching his stance. “That I’m tired of sneaking around? That I hate being the other woman but I feel this crushing guilt about coming between the two of you?” You pause to think carefully about your next words before just throwing caution to the wind. “That I love you and I want people to know it. Don’t you?”

You can see the hurt bloom in Ben’s eyes. “Kid, I…I don’t know what I want.”

But that hurts worse. “Really?” You reach to fix the few buttons he had managed to undo and walk towards the door but he steps in front of you.

“Hey, hey, don’t- baby, just- just hear me out kid, please, let’s talk-”

“Don’t call me that.” Your voice is tinged with cold.

“Call…call you what?”

“Don’t call me ‘kid.’ Don’t call me ‘baby.’ In fact, don’t call me anything until you figure out what it is you do want.” You swerve past him and yank the door open. “Maybe I’ll still be waiting for you.”

It takes everything in you not to slam the door out of respect for the ongoing classes around you.

You’ve mastered the separation of your personal and professional lives so no one can see through your façade for the rest of the day. But the last bell couldn’t ring soon enough. You pack your bag and leave just as quickly as any of your students and book it out to your car. You know you’re going to get stuck in the after-school traffic but it’s better than waiting it out in your classroom where he could find you. You’ve just unlocked your door when you hear your name. You don’t recognize the voice over the din of cars and school buses, so you search for the owner and immediately regret it.

Ben raises his hand at a car that stopped to let him pass and jogs across the pavement. You want nothing more than to scream at him but for the sake of keeping up appearances, you smile and let him approach. Your voice betrays your true feelings.

“I told you, Ben, I’m-”

“I know you’re pissed and you have every right to be. But I have something I need to say and I really don’t want you to misunderstand me, so could I please just get through to the end and then you can say your piece?” He sounds out of breath. “Please?”

You simply nod and lean back against your car, waving at passing students.

“Okay. I’ve thought about what you said. And truth be told, I have not been fully honest with you. But I want to change that. I want to talk about this. About us.” He takes a long pause, collecting himself, and you almost think he’s finished before he launches into it again. “Can I come see you tonight? At your place? Or mine, whichever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll cook and we can really talk. Face to face.”

“What about Jenny? She’s not going to wonder where you are?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m taking care of it.”

You take in his words. It’s not exactly what you hoped when he said he had something to say but you’re also standing in the middle of the high school parking lot. It’s neither the time nor the place to hash out your relationship problems.

“Fine. My place. 7:00. But you’re not staying too late, it’s a school night.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ben lets himself smirk for a moment before switching back into teacher mode and bids you good afternoon, taking off back towards the school.

It’s 6:57 and you’re starting to curse yourself for agreeing to let Ben come over. But in a way, this is like a first date. Your first meeting outside of campus. And you can’t lie that the prospect of what could come after intrigues you.

7:00 on the dot and your doorbell rings, so you steel your nerves and open the door. Ben looks almost relieved that you actually answered and you step aside to let him in. In one hand, he holds an insulated bag of what you can only assume is ingredients for the dinner he promised to cook and in the other, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. You accept those with a small smile and lead him into the kitchen. He begins unpacking the bag to start cooking while you dig through drawers to find a pair of scissors.

“Do you want some wine? You didn’t say what you were planning to cook so I pulled out a red and I also have a white already in the fridge,” you offer as you cut the flower stems at an angle and untie the bundle to arrange them in the vase on the coffee table.

“White sounds perfect, thank you,” Ben accepts as he rolls up his sleeves. You pull out the bottle and pour a little into two glasses, handing him one. You go to take a sip before he holds his out to you. “Cheers.” You clink and then drink, resisting the urge to down half the glass in one go.

You stand off to the side most of the time while Ben takes over your kitchen, falling back into your easy conversations without even realizing it. You have to admit you love watching him, the way his hands grip the knife and the vegetables he’s cutting, the sweat glistening on his forehead and the back of his neck from the hot stove.

The rest of the night feels…natural. Effortless. You almost forget why he came over in the first place.

You’re lounging on the couch with him, dishes washed and kitchen cleaned, wine glasses in hand when you finally cut to the chase.

“So what did you want to say to me?”

Ben’s eyes widen slightly and he leans over to rest his glass on the coffee table. “Say what?”

You need him to get to the point before you lose your nerve again. “In the parking lot, you said you wanted to talk. About us. So let’s talk.”

He lets out a nervous sigh and turns to better face you. “Right.”

You hold eye contact, expecting him to say more, but nothing comes. You sit up, putting your glass down next to his, losing your patience. “Ben, if you’re not going to-”

“I love you, too.”

The four words you’ve been waiting for him to say since the first time you kissed. But followed by more silence.

“That’s it?”

Ben opens and closes his mouth, searching for the words, but you cut him off.

“That’s not enough, Ben. The sneaking around, the stolen stares across the room, it was fun but it’s not enough anymore. You’ve made a fool out of me, but more than that you’ve…I’ve ruined myself for you.”

“You…what do you mean?” He leans in, careful not to intrude too far into your personal space.

“What we have is- is different. I’ve never had something like this and I don’t think I ever will again. You’ve shown me things, taught me things that I can’t ever share with anyone else. But this isn’t going anywhere and I’m not sure you even want it to.”

“I do!”

“And Jenny? You can’t have us both, Ben.”

“I told her.” The only sounds in the room are your individual heavy breaths. “We talked and apparently, she’d been feeling pretty distant, too. She was trying to work up the courage to talk me into counseling but when I told her about you…she let me go.” He curls his hand into a fist, stopping himself from reaching out and touching you. “I am yours and only yours. And I don’t care who knows it anymore.”

“Then prove it.” You feel as if your heart is going to burst from how fast it’s racing.

“I will.”

Ben practically launches himself across the couch, yanking you into his arms and smashing his lips to yours, as if pulled by an invisible string. You react immediately, curling your limbs around him, desperate to hold him closer. You gasp for breath when he breaks apart just enough to mumble against your lips. “Where?”

“Down the hall, last door on the left.”

In a flash, you find yourself deposited on your bed, dress crumpled on the floor, fingers flying to undo the buttons on Ben’s dress shirt. You shift your focus to his slacks, his rock-hard bulge ever prominent as you unzip. You move to pull them down his thighs along with his briefs, but he stops you. His shirt now gone, he nudges you to fall backwards onto your pillows and he follows.

His weight on top of you is intoxicating, finally able to feel all of him. The broadness of his shoulders, the contracting muscles in his back, the softness of his tummy pressed to yours. His mouth finds its home in your cleavage, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh, the scratch of his patchy beard bordering on overstimulating.

“Ben-”

“That’s not my name.” He looks up at you with a devilish grin and emphasizes his point with a hard grind of his hips into yours. “What’s my name?”

“Daddy!”

His tongue soothes each bite as he finally journeys up your chest to your neck. Taking in a deep breath, he releases it with a sinful groan from deep in his chest.

“You wear this just for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

#the hellfire texts #mr ben snl #mr ben x reader #mr ben fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ppcu #pedrostories

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dangerous-disposition · 2 years ago

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i could be honest, i could be human [Steddie WIP snippet]

THIS FIC IS NOW COMPLETE

Read it on my writing blog @gerrystamour (see pinned post) or on AO3

Here is a snippet of a fic I'm working on that is kind of a "5 times Eddie asks Steve who hurt him + 1 time he actually does something about it" and takes place over the course of the show and into post-S4 territory. When it's done it'll be 6 chapters and will be rated E. Mostly I need eyes that aren't mine to see it.

Steve Harrington did not feel sorry for himself.

Sorry? Absolutely. For himself? No.

He felt sorry for how he treated Nancy, for what he said to Jonathan, how he let Tommy make a mess of the Hawk’s sign. But not for himself, even if he couldn’t blink without wincing and something smarted when he moved his jaw. Even if his knuckles ached and a molar was wiggling a bit too much for his comfort. The way Steve figured it, all together that was roughly only half of what he deserved.

Getting the shit beat out of him for being an idiot wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to him, though the low-grade agony in his face was.

With a heavy sigh, Steve dipped the rag into the bucket of pink, soapy water and returned to scrubbing the red spray paint off the Hawk’s sign. It was slow-going, and the sun was setting, but he had just a bit of the last letter to clean, and then he would be done. He would be free to go home and figure out his next move.

He didn’t have any more friends, what with his fight with Tommy and Carol, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore. Not after his stunning display of class and conflict resolution.

“Well, well, well,” came a sarcastic, yet excited voice from below. “If it isn’t the King of Hawkins High himself, Steve Harrington.”

Steve groaned, the title bringing a sour taste to his mouth. Some king he supposedly was. He didn’t even recognize the voice, but that didn’t say much; Steve probably wouldn’t recognize the voices of most of the kids he went to school with because he was exactly that sort of asshole.

“Didn’t know you could actually do honest work,” the person continued, and the comment stung a bit, even if it was a fair assumption. “Though is it honest work if you made the mess in the first place?”

“Look man, I get it—” Steve started as he looked down, deliberately angling his face to hide the bruising, and abruptly froze.

Beaming gleefully up at Steve was the Freak. Something-Munson. His first name was escaping Steve, and not for any reason that was good or defensible.

Steve knew him by appearance and reputation alone, and he was pretty sure he could count the facts he knew about him on one hand. He dressed weird, had long hair, listened to shitty music, had an even shittier van, and dealt drugs. He had seen Tommy meet with him before they went to parties enough times to know at least that much. In the end, Steve had almost exclusively only heard him referred to as either the Freak or simply Munson.

“You were saying, Harrington?” Munson urged; his grin was broad but mean.

“What do you want, Munson?” Steve asked instead, returning to his chore.

“Heard from a little birdy that you were reduced to janitorial work. Obviously, I had to see that for myself before I would believe it,” he replied easily, and Steve scoffed.

“You came all the way out here just to watch me clean a sign? I’m honoured,” Steve muttered darkly.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was already in the neighbourhood,” Munson said, and Steve heard the unmistakable sound of a lighter being flicked. When Steve glanced back down, Munson was leaning against the light post and taking a long drag from a cigarette.

“C’mon, man,” Steve practically whined as he scrubbed the last of the graffiti off the sign. He was done his chore and he really didn’t want to deal with Munson’s smug face when he climbed down and revealed his bruised face. “I know I’ve been a douchebag—”

“Been? You’ve been a douchebag? As in past-tense?” Munson asked with a loud, bitter laugh. Steve could hear the eyeroll in Munson’s voice when he added, “I don’t think you get to decide when you aren’t a douchebag anymore, Harrington.”

Steve was at a loss with that, wracking his brain for a single time he was ever rude or mean to Munson. The thing was, Steve was never deliberately mean to people, his fight earlier with Jonathan notwithstanding; he just didn’t care, or tried to seem like he didn’t, as if he was above caring. For fuck’s sake, Steve couldn’t even remember Munson’s first name.

Tommy and Carol were the mean ones, and he did nothing try to stop them. How many times, unbeknown to Steve, had Tommy harassed Munson and his friends? Or how many times had Steve just tuned it out?

“Fine! I know I am a douchebag, but don’t you think this is kinda childish?” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over the top of the ladder and dropping his forehead onto them.

“Oh, it definitely is,” Munson agreed happily, and Steve shouted when the whole ladder shook. Munson had kicked it lightly, just enough to rock it but not so much that it actually fell over. “Gonna stay up there forever, Harrington?”

“Not forever,” Steve replied, shrugging. “Just until you get bored and leave.”

“Then you’ll be up there forever,” Munson sing-songed. “C’mon, Harrington. I don’t bite, promise.”

Steve felt his face heat, his chest and stomach fluttering with an emotion he couldn’t place immediately. Shame? Humiliation? He stopped inspecting those thoughts too closely and climbed down.

When Steve was back on solid ground, he turned to face Munson and stood up straight. He was taller than Steve by just a bit, but it was enough that he had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Oh, Harrington,” Munson laughed—no, practically crooned, his eyes wide and bright as he reached up to touch the bruising. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone downright giddy.

READ THE COMPLETED FIC ON AO3

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic

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bad-surprise · 1 year ago

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⭐️directors commentary of your choice please?

i held onto this for a minute because i knew i wanted to wait until the fic was complete (same for museum, that’s sitting in my inbox for now)

apologies in advance, this is a long one.

but i thought you might

haladriel modern au | E | 135.4k | 26/26

but i thought you might (bitym) began as a promptfill i posted on december 9th, 2022— the day i created my fandom twitter account.

at very basic level, bitym is a story about purity culture and the impact it has on those who grow up within it, even if they believe they never bought into the conditioning. it taught me that i love writing about sex— particularly deeply psychological sex scenes that reveal new info about the characters and their relationship, motivations, and overall dynamic.

it really only exists because my husband had covid that week, and because i was exposed but tested negative we were isolating separately. i had a lot of time to fill and spent a lot of it daydreaming, listening to music, and writing little bits of a story in my notes app. there was a very clear moment where hal’s voice just clicked for me and the first chapter came together from there. chapters 1, 2, the last half of 4, and 5 were all written first, back when i thought it would be an 8k one shot. i still have the draft of this, along with another one shot version of it.

it was inspired by memories of high school, particularly one off-campus lunch senior year where a friend confessed that she and her boyfriend had sex and she enjoyed it and didn’t know what to do with that. i believe my response was “i’m pretty sure you’re supposed to like it,” but she started crying. hal and gal’s high school is largely based on the private religious school i attended, and when i imagine their campus, that’s the image in my mind.

i really struggled to find a title, and sort of impulsively chose a line from home by daughter because i thought that song captured the right vibe.

personally, the story only becomes something i’m not embarrassed by around chapter 6. i knew what i was writing towards at that point but only in vague terms. going back into hal’s pov there for the first time since chapter 2 really clarified things for me. i’m not proud of it until chapter 10.

note: spoilers for the entirety of but i thought you might below.

many of my favorite elements were happy accidents, including the introduction of luthien, the two year time jump in chapter 11, the entire diner scene, and hal going to therapy. in conversations with my husband, i was adamant for so long that bitym!hal would never go to therapy. i underestimated what he would be willing to do for gal.

i didn’t really know the ending until around march, and a key aspect of it changed while drafting the penultimate chapter. the original ending i had in mind was incredibly dark, much closer to the shark in your water. it was initially going to be a story about hal thinking he was free from the religious conditioning but turning out to be just as toxic as fin, and galadriel coming to terms with being trapped. i was terrified when this changed and so so scared that hal would lose empathy from readers because of what he did, but ultimately that doesn’t seem to have happened.

the process of writing felt like constant excavation. i felt my way through the story intuitively, with a very flexible list of some plot points in my mind, but i was pretty much flying blind here. i’m so glad it worked out alright in the end.

easter eggs/random bits of info

references

“but they say you have the voice of an angel” is a reference to the music of the ainur

many celebrian moments were inspired by tiktoks and reddit posts.

“the last person i dated was awful” from chapter 17 (i think?) is the only morgoth reference in the whole fic. i debated including him but it ultimately felt like too much work to add it in and i don’t think the story needed it.

when hal’s telling galadriel how he lost his virginity, he says “she had a boyfriend anyway”. this is a reference to the song sex by the 1975.

in chapter 18, the event the girls go to is a reference to revolve tour (the girls who get it, get it)

the conversation hal and gal have about the differences in sex ed for girls and guys at their school is intended to slightly reference “then why is it not gone from here?” in the show, which is largely how it felt for me to leave evangelicalism before recovering from a lot of the related trauma. i didn’t believe it anymore, so why was it still strangling me all the fucking time?

depression as anger turned inward comes from my therapist, who knows i used it in this fic.

takes 20 attempts for halbrand to get the ring right because 3 rings for the eleven kings + 7 for the dwarf lords + 9 for mortal men = 19 before he forges the one.

hal is an aeronautical engineer working in the defense sector. this is a reference to some legendarium stuff around sauron in numenor.

writing process + personal shit:

in the first draft, hal was morgoth’s son and there was a plot point involving the theft of the silmarils.

the nursing student line in chapter 1 is based on some people i knew at university.

i am too embarrassed to read chapters 2 and 3. like i just want to curl up and hide whenever i think about either of those chapters, i think they’re terrible.

there are many “deleted scenes” from bitym that just didn’t fit into the narrative in the end, so they live in the unused scenes folder in my scrivener project. one of these scenes— a description of hal’s apartment— actually ended up being used for museum, and another scene i deleted was reworked for chapter 7 of shark.

i wrote the infamous chapter 5 car scene in the middle of the night, during what felt like a dissociative state, because i knew if i wasn’t exhausted my inner critic would start shame spiraling due to my own religious upbringing.

every single purity culture experience in the text, with the exception of chastity club and the purity pledge, is something that actually happened in my life. the only reason i didn’t do a purity pledge is because i missed youth group that week.

“they cannot convince her she’s sinned” is 100% from my own experience of being surprised by my complete lack of guilt lol.

i really want to have a longer convo about the consent stuff in it because i’m fascinated by some of the responses i got to the chapter 5 car scene. some people were really angry with me for it, which was interesting bc i really had the archive warning on there because of the birth control tampering.

i fucked up the time skip in chapter 11 and added an extra year. this changed the story dramatically (and is why the ending ultimately changed) but i prefer the way it turned out. i also fucked up the age gap between fin and gal, and don’t ask me what grade celebrian is in bc basically i cannot do math to save my life.

i find it really interesting how many readers seem to think galadriel’s POV chapters are more reliable than hal’s, because i definitely see it the opposite way.

i get super nervous about the references to their jobs because i’m terrified of getting something wrong but definitely don’t know the ins and outs. i do research, but i still feel super inadequate there, which is why you never see her at work and only see him at work twice.

chapter 13 (diner scene) was so difficult to plan, but once i decided to use those two songs, it became fairly straightforward. it’s one of my favorite chapters in the entire story.

you probably know this by now if you’ve read chapter 25, but their first kiss being in a closet was 100% deliberate.

i’m so so proud of the sequence with the pregnancy tests in chapter 15.

i decided celebrian would be in this while writing chapter 6.

the drive home from the bachelorette party was written about five days after i started working on bitym.

i knew as soon as chapter 6 that hal would wait until celebrian was born to tell galadriel that he loved her, but holy shit it was so difficult to wait that long.

the scene I’m most proud of is the opening to chapter 23.

misc. in universe info:

the night out with elrond and miriel in chapter 22 stresses me out so much bc gal doesn’t understand what she’s doing and it’s such a horrible position for hal to be in, seeing how she’s basically asking him to come out to her before he’s ready. this all happens only a few days before galadriel leaves for the first time.

hal doesn’t know that galadriel doesn’t think they’re a couple until B+L’s wedding. his response when she tries to bring it up earlier is because he’s worried officially defining it its going to either set him up for failure, or scare her off completely, but in his mind, they were basically together together as soon as he said “yeah, i think i’ll keep you” in chapter 5.

there are subtextual references to substance use issues in hal’s family. this is why he doesn’t drink much or do drugs— though by his 32nd birthday his attitude is a bit more relaxed, considering that their second child is conceived while both of them are drunk lol

in chapter 12, galadriel left her car in accessory for too long and the battery died. hal is fully aware of this and totally could’ve just jumped her battery but he missed her and wanted an excuse to spend time with her.

galadriel’s apprehension about motherhood doesn’t come from a lack of interest altogether, but because the only model she’s really had is one of 100% loss of identity, which is something she’s not willing to do. initially, i planned on this being her ultimate fate and good lord i’m so happy i didn’t go there.

i’m very careful in hal’s therapy sessions to have him refer to “people” he’s dated/slept with, rather than “women.”

galadriel’s friends 100% thought she was sleeping with hal AND celeborn in high school, hence their confusion at her response to finding out they were sexually active then.

hal’s parents aren’t actually homophobic or biphobic, they just didn’t know how to handle that situation and so they sort of pretended it didn’t happen. and if you want to know what happened, it’s just your usual homophobic bullying— the boy he liked turned on him to avoid being a target himself.

hal has had panic attacks his entire life but wasn’t diagnosed with panic disorder until shortly before galadriel moved out for real. he’s very resistant to using rescue meds and thinks he should just be able to tough it out.

they split bills proportionally based on income, with hal contributing 66% and gal 34% around the time of celebrian’s birth. galadriel doesn’t know much about hal’s finances until they buy the house.

i loved seeing how responses to amarie changed as she challenged expectations in the later timeline. i feel really bad for her— it’s implied in the final chapter that she married fin when she was 20 and he was 24, and she dropped out of college as a result. what they’re struggling with by the end is the fact that she wants to finish her degree and has made peace with the fact that they don’t have kids— more of that will be in peppermint for sure.

another aspect in the background that i knew about but decided against mentioning is that celebrian was born just before covid, which is a huge part of why they fell out with galadriel’s family. hal’s health anxiety meant nobody was getting anywhere near his baby and they were not feeling that at all. this might come up a little in peppermint, we’ll see. i doubt i would directly mention covid, just the fact that both of them were working from home for a large part of celebrian’s first few months.

celebrian’s first word was fuck. hal insists it doesn’t count. gal disagrees.

both hal and gal can be read as neurodivergent. it’s revealed in peppermint that celebrian does have adhd. hal also can be read as meeting the diagnostic criteria for borderline personality disorder— that was unintentional but i think it makes a lot of sense.

significant influences on bitym

films/tv

like crazy

normal people

about time

saved

couples therapy

the worst person in the world

before midnight

lady bird

500 days of summer

non-fiction

leaving the fold: a guide for former fundamentalists and others leaving their religion by marlene winell

complex ptsd: from surviving to thriving by pete walker

hold me tight by sue johnson

adult children of emotionally immature parents by lindsay c. gibson

three women by lisa taddeo

fiction

normal people by sally rooney

beautiful world where are you? by sally rooney

little rabbit by alyssa songsiridej

the unbearable lightness of being by milan kundera

atonement by ian mcewan

musical theater

the last five years

spring awakening

once

my favorite lines

Fighting is foreplay, so they never fight fair. Grievances are grenades, painstakingly primed for maximum impact. If the situation escalates to all-out warfare, consequences take a brutal turn. All hope of a ceasefire hangs on her eventual surrender to submission. — chapter 8

“Stop fucking running from what you want,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand beneath her shoulders, golden hair tangled around his wrist and laced between his fingers as they sink into her skin. “You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of yourself.” The words sear into her with the precision of a cautery pen, burning through any vestiges of self-denial still humming in her mind, loosening each thought at the root. — chapter 10

Galadriel murmured the words over and over again, whispering them against his lips, pressing them into his mouth, until the taste of each syllable was as familiar to him as the salt of her tears. — chapter 11

“Deciding to leave is very different from deciding to not love you anymore.” — chapter 13

If Galadriel is sunlight, Celebrian is made from the stars. — chapter 21

“I’d be first in line at the gates of hell,” Hal says slowly, with all the steadfast solemnity of a vow or a prayer, “if it meant I could keep this beautiful fucking life of ours for just a little longer.” — chapter 25

“You can stop beating yourself up for this shit, honey.” Hal’s thumb brushes her temple. “It’s not on you to fix something you didn’t fucking break.” — chapter 26

Maybe Hal was right. Maybe these moments only matter because of their fleeting, ephemeral nature. Maybe that overwhelming ache she once believed would shatter her served as a method to hollow out space for feeling to inhabit— this precious alloy of quiet contentment and contagious joy, irresistible wonder and the recalcitrance of love, all bound together by a strand of defiant hope. — chapter 26

“I might never be able to heal the parts of you— of us, of our family, our life— that I’ve broken. But you have my word, Galadriel,” his voice drops, each syllable low and firm, carrying the weight of an oath, “I will keep trying— until my last fucking breath, until the end of the goddamn world.” — chapter 26

that was probably a lot more than anyone wanted to know haha, so i’ll stop myself there. this fic means so fucking much to me and i’m so so proud of it. i never thought i’d be capable of writing anything like it and it’s so overwhelming in the best way to know that it means a lot to other people too.

hopefully this answered a lot of questions, but my ask box is open for anything at all— i could talk about concepts in and the process of writing bitym for days (i’m usually holding back bc i don’t want to be annoying) so please feel free to reach out with whatever.

and again, thank you all for everything. you’re amazing.

#answered #my fics: bitym #my fics: but i thought you might #fanfic directors commentary #poeticmemory

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terrainofheartfelt · 2 years ago

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Gossip Girl Appreciation Week | Day 6: AU

The Grossly Indulgent Pop Music AU I will never write:

Inspired by one of the only Jonerys fics I like.

Not quite a fic, but not not a fic, here’s an unhinged idea that grabbed hold and wouldn’t let me go. The music is a loose jumping off point of inspiration, in that all the characters have one or two artist equivalents. I use their music as the characters’ work in this universe. So it’s like an AU of pop musicians’ lives, but not really, since I don’t know their biographies, just their music. It’s fanfic, you know how it is.

Enclosed beneath the cut you shall find: dairfair, negatively painted jenny/damien & chair, some positive jenate, and a inkling at my newest ot3 vanessa/aaron/serena. And lots of opaque music references.

image sources: (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Blair and Serena come up in a lab-grown pop girl group in their teens (sample track here), but break off for their own solo acts after a few years. They have a friend breakup after that. Diss tracks are written. (Inspo: Honey & Bad Blood) the final (supposedly) proverbial nail in the coffin of their friendship is when Blair marries record label exec Chuck Bass.

(Needless to say, Chuck is a piece of shit. Living off family money and power, using his title to back young women artists into a corner. Blair thinks she conquered the beast by putting a ring on it but, well, you know.) (While Jenny Humphrey is coming up she’s one of the artists Chuck harasses. She refuses to sign with his label and tells him to fuck off.)

The rumors as to why their girl group break up run wild, and they mutate with each tabloid run, growing more and more ridiculous, but, like many rumors, they did spring from a small seed of truth.

Blair was ambitious, and always used the act as an opportunity to set herself up for a solo career. Serena was her best friend, but whereas Blair had to work hard at everything that came with this job, it was like Serena didn’t have to try at all. She was the darling of the interviews, of the fans. The favorite on the covers of magazines and music videos. Serena was getting solo offers since their debut, but turned them down, until she didn’t.

Their group toured with a team of dancers, also all carefully selected by the label. Nate Archibald was one of the fan favorites, and the label quickly paired him and Blair together for publicity. Blair was always just a little more invested than Nate was. He wasn’t even sure if this career, this lifestyle was what he wanted, but Blair was more than sure, was constantly working to get ahead. But the label kept them together, until they figured they could pair Nate with Serena instead. (And Nate didn’t fight it, because he’d always carried a torch for Serena anyway).

It wasn’t the first fight between the friends, nor the last, but it was the big frisson that they couldn’t come back from. The group held on for another album, but it was clear that they couldn’t go on. Blair and Serena signed solo contracts, and Blair got close with Chuck Bass, and that was the final straw for Serena.

Nate tried to stay friends with both of them through it, but he was also coming to the conclusion that he didn’t want to keep up this lifestyle. He quit performing to go to school, and he found his niche teaching dance to kids—not at a university level, not with the intention to make future professionals, but just to young people looking for something to love. It suits him, and he becomes a reality check for his two high profile best friends. Or he tries to be, but their lives keep pulling them away from New York, so he sees them less and less.

(The other two members of the group move on to other adjacent things. Kati founds her own fashion label—available in Targets everywhere!—and Iz becomes a judge on one of those America’s Got It Factor Talent Shows).

Post girlgroup, Serena runs a Kesha-like life, pop hits made for club dancing. Her character is much more glittering and reckless than Serena might prefer to be, but she’s in the game so long that it sort of – becomes her from time to time.

Serena works tirelessly, keeps trying to break out of her brand of the out of control party girl, but her label, the one she was brought up on, founded by her maternal grandfather, wants her to keep making what sells. Her brother Eric tries to fight her corner, but he’s only a junior employee. After a handful of solo albums and years of endless touring, she burns out. Eric gives her a place to be and rest, and she tries to figure out what the hell she’s going to do. She wants to make more music, but of what?

Blair is taylor-esque, clinging to her brand of The Good Girl from her teen career into adulthood. The reputation and her general effervescence add sparkle to the Bass brand, clean it up a little. It’s a symbiotic business relationship, until it isn’t.

Chuck progressively tries to exercise more control over the music she puts out, to the point that Blair just…doesn’t. Her last album under the Bass label is the one she released with tracks that allude to their relationship, her victory lap for landing the billionaire bachelor whale, as it were (Style, Wildest Dreams, Wonderland, I Know Places). She’s more clever than some give her credit. For example, the tongue-in-cheek “Blank Space” belies an artistic self-awareness. Which is why, even though they aren’t in the same genres, Jenny Humphrey respects her.

Speaking of Jenny: the Humphreys!

Rufus Humphrey, frontrunner of the early 90s outfit Lincoln Hawk, enjoyed a good run when his kids were little, then a less lucrative run as a solo artist, before he finally settled into producing. He runs a small, proud independent label with his old bandmate, and they pride themselves on supporting talent that the bigger corporate labels pass over. Both his kids, Dan and Jenny, make music with him.

They grew up playing piano, then graduated to guitar, then spiraled on from there. Dan joins his first band when he’s sixteen, playing keys for his best friend’s big sister’s band. Ruby Abrams and her bandmates affectionately call him an honorary lesbian, and after gigging with them for about a year, Dan comes out as bi. (his three sisters: Jenny, Vanessa, and Ruby, are already out)

His best friend Vanessa is also a musician. She tries to go the classical route, wanting to usurp her parents’ and her sister’s expectations, but ultimately finds her happy in the indie folk niche that Rufus curates. (Think Lucy Daucus & Maya Hawke) Vanessa’s favorite instrument is bass, but she can find her way around a keyboard or guitar.

Jenny is the real prodigy, though. She has her guitars and piano and even a mandolin, but she’s restless at sticking to just one sound, so she experiments with them all. Fulfilling, absolutely, but it’s a long time before she puts out a full length record.

Dan and Jenny’s parents break up while the kids are in college. With Rufus touring as much as he was when they were young, Alison did the heavy lifting raising them, and now that they’re grown she kind of – has a Mom Drop. She moves back home to the Bay Area, and Dan ends up following her to California, needing to get out of New York and get some distance from his dad.

Jenny stays in New York, taking classes, making music. She starts dating a much older artist—he’s not on her dad’s label (which is part of the appeal) —but he has a complimentary sound. After the mess that was her model gf Agnes, Jenny is hoping for something steadier, but that’s not what it becomes. Being with Damien Dalgaard, darling of the Guy with Guitar genre, ends up being more of a mindfuck. (John Mayer. Damien’s basically John Mayer.)

Rufus tries to put his foot down (even though Jenny’s an adult) and Vanessa tries to help, but it’s one of those things where the toxic relationship just has to run its course, even if it puts Jenny into major spotlight for the first time. It’s rough on her, but she makes it through and out of the relationship. And, at least she comes out of it with enough material to graduate from EPs and make for her first full length album: Badlands.

Jenny starts out this au Halsey-like, but evolves her sound back to her rock folk indie origins, a sound like Julien Baker.

Meanwhile, Dan tries his luck as a musician on the West Coast, immersing himself in the scene there. He joins the roster of another band, and has enough skill to make income as a session musician to cover the difference, which leads him to another band. He still tries writing, but he’s so busy making other people’s music come alive that he doesn’t get far.

At one concert or another he bumps into Serena van der Woodsen. She’s fun, and smart, and stupid hot, and more miraculously, she is into him. They date for a while, but her life in the spotlight as a partying popstar gets more and more chaotic, and Dan can’t keep up, and he’s not really sure he wants to. The break up amicably, but it still stings enough to generate some songs, ones he doesn’t have time to record.

He keeps dating around. Serena sets him up with one of her friends, an actor, Carter Baizen, but he works so much too that it doesn’t go anywhere at the time. And then, there’s Georgina,

At the beginning, Georgina the heiress from Bel-Air just seems like another in a line of innocuous bad decisions Dan’s made since moving to LA. She’s crazy, but she’s hot, and fun, and it’s a good time until it fizzles out.

Then, months later, when Dan’s offered a spot in a backup band for someone, Georgina shows up at his door, pregnant.

The Milo plot unfolds, Dan steps away from his music, works only on what will pay bills and keep life stable for the baby. Georgina flakes, and flakes, until she doesn’t, until she decides to tell Dan the truth about Milo’s paternity and take him with her, all the way back to her parent’s mansion in Connecticut.

After everything, his parents, Serena, Georgina, everything going on with Jenny, Dan just kind of…breaks. He deflates, struggles, holes up in his crummy apartment on the eastside of Los Angeles until Vanessa bullies him into coming back to New York.

Being around each other again helps the Humphrey siblings reset. Jenny is already promoting Badlands, and Dan becomes her roadie, proudly cheering her on from the sidelines, even while the contents of her lyrics are absolutely gutting.

He keeps trying and failing to write, until both V and Jen tell him that he’s trying too hard to “make it into something.” Jenny just tells him to write and see what comes out, and however it sounds, it sounds.

So he does. It’s not quite the folk his mother raised them on, or the 90s rock of their dad, or the punk that Dan’s been a support player in all these years. It’s softer than that, but more jagged too. But he plays a demo for Jenny and Vanessa and keeps on going.

Jenny is a big believer in using songwriting as some sort of “exorcist.” Spit out all the bad shit, pour it into a song, put it into a vessel that doesn’t hurt you anymore. Dan’s style is a little bit different from his sister’s. She’s braver than he is – is okay to take her emotion and throw it out into her singing, but Dan thinks he might not be that tough.

For example, the stuff about Milo, Dan can’t even say it directly. He writes about it sure, but it comes out a mess, until he’s not sure if he’s talking about himself, or Milo, or even Georgina. He can’t even bring himself to mention either of them by name, just names a song after an approximation. Georgia. He also writes his first of many storytelling songs: You Missed My Heart.

He gets enough positivity from the demo for a record deal, and the leading single, Motion Sickness, does better than Dan thought it would. He says it has to be because there’s more residual interest in one of Serena van der Woodsen’s exes than he thought. Jenny and Vanessa share a look, because he really is that good though.

And after years of work behind the curtain, Dan Humphrey is getting vested interest in his own songs, and what’s more, he’s written something worth singing. Stranger in the Alps launches an entirely new phase of his career, and, as it turns out, his personal life.

Blair doesn’t travel in the circles of the mid-level artist, but at a festival, purely by chance, she ends up in Dan Humphrey’s car.

It’s not Dan’s first festival gig, but this is definitely the biggest, and the best spot he’s ever gotten in a lineup. The true sign that he’s on the up and up, though, is that he’s provided transportation.

After sound check before his gig, he’s herded back to his car, to go back to his hotel before he goes on later tonight.

But then this girl gets in with him.

Blair had had it with her handler (her husband’s goon), and paparazzi were starting to catch the scent—as far as the public knew, she still had the perfect fairytale dream marriage—so she co-opted this nobody indie guy’s ride as her getaway car.

Dan’s bewildered, and irritated, but also kind of charmed. It’s a nice break in the routine, accidentally kidnapping a princess of pop.

He invites her to see his set, which she scoffs at, but she googles him as soon as she’s back in her hotel room. And then, she pulls strings so she can watch his set from backstage. (He covers “I’m on Fire,” and she absolutely does not think that it’s hot).

They have a drink in the green room after, and don’t stop talking until a festival staff person kicks them out because the venue’s shutting down for the night.

AND SO IT BEGINS.

She arranges for him to see her headlining set, and then after, she asks him what he thought, and he tells her. Like, actually tells her. She’s a good artist, with talent, but she keeps dumbing it down, and why?

He essentially says she’s better than this, and she tells him to fuck off, and tells him that just because not every single one of my songs is about angsting alone on the bedroom floor doesn’t make me shallow, Humphrey. (and that’s his Moment.)

She’d been after compliments, some vague idea that he’d be blown away by how good she is, and she’d get a positive review for once. Which is so stupid, why should she even care what a nobody like Dan Humphrey thinks?

But he is not a nobody, not anymore.

She looks him up after the festival. His star is definitely rising. A child of nepotism, his father was in a popular band in the late 80s and early 90s, and so Dan and his little sister grew up close to the business. Humphrey’s been in a couple bands since he was sixteen (started young like her), but after those broke up, and a couple lost years that google can’t account for, he released a solo album and just like that, people are paying attention, beyond just the indie bubble.

Blair recognizes his sister, Jenny Humphrey, and even has one of her albums saved in her library. Not something Blair would make, but it’s decent.

She digs a little more, trying to figure out those lost years, but comes up empty. She does find, however, that Humphrey famously dated Serena a few years back, Google is rife with paparazzi photos of them in LA. And he accused her of making shallow music? Serena’s solo work is nothing but her belting about parties and drugs and sex to heavy beats. Club music. Music to have parties, drugs, and sex, too.

Finding out his history with Serena is enough for Blair to write off Dan Humphrey as a hack, an aberration. A way to pass the time at a festival gig and distract herself from her own life.

But, Blair finds Dan Humphrey is becoming increasingly unavoidable. He’s doing one talk show appearance while she’s at another studio a few floors up. He’s moved back to New York, he tells her, just until he goes on tour again. He invites her to a show, at some dive in Brooklyn she’s never heard of. For that, she nearly doesn’t even go.

But then, she does.

For security reasons, she sneaks in the back, aided by her assistant Epperly, and watches from the closet that counts as a backstage. It’s an acoustic set, and Dan plays arrangements of his solo album (that she absolutely did NOT listen to), plus some covers. In fact, he covers one of her songs. “Blank Space,” mashed up with “Stand by Me.” He introduces it by saying, “I really love the melodies in this song, I think it’s just really good melody writing.” And it feels like…an apology.

They keep meeting up, but now, it’s on purpose, not accidental. They’re both in New York for the time being anyways, Dan is getting some rest before the European leg of his album tour, and Blair is supposed to be working on a new album before her own, but she’s got…nothing. Less than nothing. And Chuck knows that, which means it’s harder and harder to have him around.

Besides, there’s no rule that she can’t have friends. Honestly, with how her career is, she doesn’t really have any. There’s Epperly, and Dorota, maybe Nate. She’s married, but she’s not sure she would call Chuck her friend.

She and Dan though, they have a real connection. And they can be just friends.

Since she has absolutely no new songs to record, she leaves for Europe a couple weeks early, she tells Chuck it’s to visit her parents in Paris and get inspired, but then, at the last minute, she changes her itinerary, and goes to Dublin instead, where Dan’s first gig is.

Blair’s been letting herself and this friendship live in plausible deniability, but as she’s learned more about Dan, about the kind of person and artist that he is, she knows that isn’t really his thing, and when she appears at his show in Dublin, he refuses to let it go, and Blair, worn thin by…literally everything else, can’t keep up the denial anymore, and tells him to bring her back to his hotel.

It’s a mistake, it’s such a mistake. Blair’s life is already precarious enough as it is. Chuck’s label owns her contracts, her catalog, and basically her. She’s been over and over it, and can’t see a way out. She wanted to be on top, and that was the price.

But, Dan.

Being with him feels like waking up after spending her entire adult life asleep. She’s excited about music again, about making something. She writes, then hides it all away, because she can’t record songs about being in love with someone else on her husband’s dime.

She has her tour, and Dan has his, but they meet on every overlapping date. Sometimes she’s so tired after a concert all she has energy to do is sleep in his arms, but even that stolen time feels sacred.

When their tour legs end, Dan tentatively asks if it’s the end, but she really doesn’t want it to be.

He’s back in New York City at first, so that’s easier, and harder, because Chuck is there too. Thankfully, Blair’s sales were high enough that she’s in his good graces, and when she slips away it’s easy enough to say she’s working on something new. She practically sees cartoon dollar signs flash in Chuck’s eyes when she does. How she ever thought that this could be her happily ever after, she’ll never know.

She and Dan talk about that, about living in stories and wanting fairytales but being smacked down by real life. She tells him that she doesn’t feel like she belongs to herself anymore, how she doesn’t want to write anymore if it means that Chuck will profit off it, but if she walks away, all those things she believed, promised, sung, was all of it for nothing?

She wrote love songs about Chuck, for Chuck. Her life’s work is tangled up in him, and she’s not sure she wants to pull away from all of that, much less if she even could.

Dan tells her about Milo, about loss, about the shadow his father cast and how hiding in it was safe so he didn’t try to break out of it, but now he’s out. He talks about loving his parents but resenting them for not staying in love, and resents himself for falling out of love in the past.

“What did you do about it?” she asks him.

He waggles his eyebrows at her, and reaches behind him to grab his guitar.

It’s unfair, she knows it’s unfair. Blair comes to rely on Dan too much, to center her, to hold her, to love her even when it’s not his place. But she keeps going to him, and he’s always there, arms open.

He’s writing about her. She knows before he even tells her. She can sense it sometimes, when he’s looking at her, and she just knows he has lyrics running in his head.

But it’s unfair. He’s bicoastal, going to and from LA for gigs and appearances. When he’s gone, Blair does her own, always beginning and ending with paparazzi shots of her on Chuck’s arm, smiling like she’s still in love with him. Her heart belongs to someone else now, but she’s afraid she’s in too deep to break away.

In the meantime, Dan, Jenny, and Vanessa come back to their roots: each other, and decide to do a project together, write an EP (boygenius. It’s boygenius). They have a fair mix of songs, and all of Dan’s lyrics are fed by his relationship to BLair, that he’s told no one about, but it bleeds out of everything he writes. They’re approaching an impasse, he can feel it, but selfishly, he wants to avoid it as long as possible, to keep her as long as possible.

In addition to his EP with Jenny and Vanessa, Dan has a deal for a next record, and a handful of songs to put on it already. When he’s in LA, he’s working on his own music, and when he’s in New York, he’s either working with Jen and Vanessa, or he’s with Blair.

But it can’t last. Blair is feeling the pressure from Bass Records, and if she were to get caught in an affair, or separate from Chuck, Chuck would hold her catalog hostage. Her entire life’s work wouldn’t be hers anymore. And maybe Dan’s right when he says that she can’t stay with her husband, but she’s right when she says she can’t leave him either.

She can’t even record new music for the label either, because everything new she’s written is covered in Dan. She even wrote a song about that. She is covered in him.

But Dan has his own wounds, and they make him push, and push, and self sabotage, and after one gruesome, draining fight, Blair calls it off.

In the meantime, Jenny and Vanessa are doing work of their own, on their music and on themselves.

Vanessa plays her solos up and down the east coast, through the Midwest, and back in New York. Through Rufus, she meets Aaron Rose, a jack-of-all-trades of sorts. Like Rufus, he was a musician first, but mostly works now as a producer. They hit it off, and after working on a thing or two, they start dating, but only casually. After several years and multiple musical acts, Aaron’s star as a producer is rising, and he’s working with bigger and bigger names.

Jenny is still healing from all her garbage (Agnes, Damien, etc.), and the music helps, and the project with Dan and Vanessa does too—it’s an excuse to reconnect with each other, and she becomes close to two of her favorite people again. It helps. As does the therapy, and all the other things she does.

One such thing, recommended by her therapist and her parents, is to do creative things that are outside of her purview as a musician. She’s always sort of been into fashion, so she gets into sewing, into designing her own looks. And when that’s not active enough, she puts in time at the dance studio in Brooklyn where her mom used to teach, where she took classes once upon a time.

She isn’t interested in lessons, or classes with other people, but the owners still know her, and love Alison, so they’ll give her solo studio time when she asks for it, and one afternoon, one of their new staff walks into the wrong studio.

Jenny kind of bites his head off, but he kind of likes that. He says his name is Nate, he’s the new hire to take over the beginner classes. And — he’s hot, obviously, but Jenny is on permanent hiatus in that department. Not that that stops her from looking.

But after that first meeting, Nate is just always around, and Jenny doesn’t really want to deal with all the shit that having him around kicks up within her, but she likes hanging out with him, so she tells him – firmly – that she only wants to be friends, and he respects that. What a thing, to have a guy respect her boundaries.

She keeps putting it all in her music, Turn Out the Lights doesn’t make the same splash as Badlands, apparently people care less the more distance she puts between herself and Damien, but Jen decides she’s okay with that.

Reeling from another heartbreak that Dan can’t really talk about, he puts it into his music, in the EP with Jen and V and in his new album. His sophomore solo album, Punisher, comes out to a great reception. Well, great within the small circle of people who actually know who he is.

The gigs that began with his debut keep rolling in, late night shows, radio appearances, festivals, and now mixed in with those are engagements for his act with Jen and Vanessa. To his surprise, people are interested in that music because of him. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. If you ask him, Jenny and Vanessa are way better at what they do than he is.

Dan’s public profile grows bigger and bigger, but Blair can’t be happy for him, because it makes him increasingly unavoidable. She refuses to listen to the new music he releases, she’s afraid it’s too cruel towards her, or worse, it’s too kind.

But, just like their accidental first meeting, she stumbles across a single he put out after the new album. Typical Humphrey. A goddamn overachiever, kept on writing even after the album was done. She didn’t mean to see it, but she was scrolling through All Songs Considered, and there he was, talking about Audrey Hepburn, of all things.

There’s this line in the movie Sabrina, where she says “I have learned to be in the world and of the world, and not just stand aside and watch.” And that’s really what this song’s about, about falling in love with a person because they’ve taught you how to live, how to appreciate everything the world has to offer. And there’s – there’s a tremendous amount of joy in that, but there’s also fear, because gaining that now means that it’s possible to lose it too. So – I guess this is sort of trying to reconcile those ideas within a song.

Blair listens to “Sidelines,” and it makes her so angry that she scribbles off a song idea of her own, because he still doesn’t get it. He meant her while she was in the middle of running away, so why won’t he just let her run?

She worries fleetingly about getting caught, because Audrey is her thing, and Dan knows that, but Audrey is a ubiquitous enough icon that no one but she would ever make the connection. He’s good at that, Dan is, of coding a message to her that only she could understand. It’s the same skill that makes him such a good writer.

Blair writes songs because she can’t help it, but she won’t record them. A new album would mean adding to Chuck’s empire, and the thought of Chuck owning these songs too, the only things of Dan she’s allowed herself to keep…she can’t stomach the thought of it.

She’s stayed with him to protect her work, but now her work is dead on arrival because of him, and that’s really what drives her decision to divorce Chuck.

She has to do it carefully, of course. She sets up a place of her own to go to in New York, moves in all the things that mean the most to her. Puts her notebooks in a safety deposit box—just to be sure. And, finally, she reaches out to her mother, to get a recommendation for a divorce attorney familiar with entertainment law.

On a first impression, Cyrus Rose doesn’t look like much beyond a short, ebullient, overly cheery middle-aged man, but Blair quickly learns that when he’s practicing law, he turns into a bulldog. He fights for her and for her work so fiercely that for a little while, Blair lets herself believe that it will all come out her way.

But there’s all the media coverage, and it paints her out as a bitter, gold-digging, ungrateful woman, villainizing a man who doesn’t deserve it. It pisses her off to no end, but Cyrus tells her to hold her silence, and she trusts him, so she does.

In the end, Cyrus is able to get her out of her marriage and most of her contract with Bass Records. She’s not destitute, she still has her family money, and a comfortable settlement, but Cyrus is ultimately unable to save her music. Bass will still own her masters, and the residuals from those masters. It’s that that breaks her heart the most—more than how quickly Chuck turned the media cycle against her, more than how many people followed his lead, more than the evidence Cyrus discovered of his multiple affairs, of his mismanagement of the company—but that her work cannot belong to her, that hurts the most.

But, bulldog that he is, Cyrus digs out a loophole. Since going solo, Blair has been the prime writer of all her songs, which gives her the legal right to rerecord her masters. So while she can’t stop Chuck from doing whatever he wants with her old work, anything she makes now can be entirely within her control.

She just has to find someone willing to work with her. And who she trusts enough to work with.

Worn out, Blair retreats from the public eye, it’s lonely, but thankfully, not too lonely.

The divorce process set Blair to looking back at lots of her life, at things and people she wishes she had handled differently. After she privately filed her petition, she reached out to Serena, and, miraculously, Serena answered.

Before anything else is fixed, Blair and Serena’s friendship is fixed. They reconnect, because everything they’ve been through, together and apart, has made them want to focus on what matters, and what matters is each other.

They talk all the shit through, Blair’s marriage, Serena’s struggles, their respective creative blocks. They start appearing in public together, and the tabloids gobble that shit UP.

Serena is working on a comeback record of her own, her first since burning out with her grandfather’s label. It’s zany, and bright, but doesn’t shy away from the heartache she’s been through. It’s so incredibly her, that Blair can’t help but love it. She loves it, no matter that the liner notes give credit to a Dan Humphrey on a few tracks

Free from Bass Records, Blair wants to work on a new album, but she’s unsure of where to begin. Serena offers to introduce her to this producer she’s been dating (out of the public eye for a change), Aaron Rose.

Blair doesn’t quite know what to make of Aaron, of his music, of his open relationship with her newly restored best friend, but she looks up his previous acts and thinks…maybe working with him could be the change her sound needs.

Dan is moving in—if not the same—adjacent circles to her. Enough so that she can’t get him out of her head, can’t get over wanting him. She spills the whole thing to Serena, who she knew was also Dan’s ex, but didn’t know that they were still friends. Serena tells her to stay optimistic, Blair says Serena just thinks that because she’s okay sharing a boyfriend.

Her engagements have been sparse, she’s not wanted many, and not many have wanted her, but Austin City Limits is still on her calendar. In the promotional materials, they highlight her on one stage, and Dan’s band with Jenny and Vanessa on another.

She doesn’t intend to seek him out, but fate conspires against her, and they end up thrown into the same green room. Again.

Dan doesn’t want to want her anymore. His career has forward movement and even if the music he makes is about her, the people who like it don’t know that, nor do they care. They care that it’s good. His career is good, he’s been dating Netflix Original darling Carter Baizen for months now, happily and uncomplicatedly. (Serena put them in touch, then one dm led to another, and it’s nice). Not that Carter doesn’t have his own damage—no one in LA is without damage, but they can forget about their damage with each other. It’s not love, but it’s not not love.

Dan doesn’t want to want her anymore, But, oh, he does.

They nearly miss their calls—his set, her soundcheck—while talking (well, talking, fighting, kissing, then talking some more). But they fulfill their contracts, and just like it started three years ago, they end up backstage after their shows, drinking, and talking, and talking until a harrowed stage manager is begging them to leave.

Dan sets a limit, makes himself go back to Jen and Vanessa, instead of going home with her, but he says he’s going straight to New York after this, and asks if she’ll be around.

Blair says yes.

After the divorce, Blair sold off the real estate she’d kept from her marriage. It was all too haunted, too high up, too far from reality. While looking for a new place, Epperly showed her a listing for a remodeled carriage house in the West Village; Blair would have bought it sight unseen if anyone but Epperly had been there.

Back in New York, Dan invites her to a secret acoustic show he’s playing near NYU. She goes, of course, and this time, when she asks him to come home with her, he says yes.

It takes time. For them to trust each other, and reconnect. But they do, and Blair feels like her life is finally making sense.

She and Dan take one day, one step at a time, in secret, for both their sakes, and meanwhile, she, Epperly, Cyrus, and Aaron negotiate a new contract with Rose Records.

Her best-friendship, record deal, and love life all fall into place, and then Blair is writing like never before.

Aaron is….unconventional, and doesn’t let her push him around, which she finds infuriating, not for least of which is the direction he wants to take this album. She fights it at first, but if she really does want to make a departure from the pop princess songs she was generating, maybe following down his path is not the worst idea. And if she hates it, then she can just walk.

It’s still pop, but it’s bigger, less bubbly and more….glittering. It’s….darker isn’t exactly the right word, but like she’s not trying to be the Good Girl anymore. It’s just crafting a record that’s hers, one song at a time.

She offers Dan the option to co-write, more than once, but he turns her down. Not because he doesn’t care, but because this is the first time the music she’s making entirely belongs to her, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that.

“Church and state,” he says one late night in her cozy house on Cornelia Street.

“And which one’s this?”

“Church,” he answers immediately before kissing her. “Obviously.”

Speaking of church and state, and despite their expectations, they’re able to keep them out of the public eye. Blair’s friends know, and Dan’s family knows, but no one else does. By some miracle, they keep out of the tabloids. Blair keeps working on her album, Dan keeps working with his sister and best friend. They go out into the world and make music and go home to each other at the end of the night.

Blair and Aaron Rose make a surprisingly good time. They finish the album fast, and nine months after Blair’s divorce from Chuck and Bass Records, reputation drops.

She has a whole slew of promotions to do for the release, but that midnight, she and Dan open a bottle of wine and listen to the whole thing start to finish. (“Church and State, honey, I’ll listen when it’s done,” he’d said). He’s a fan.

She and Aaron were both intent on it not being a “divorce record,” but it is about her, exploring who she is as a person and an artist after her carefully constructed life fell apart, and about the love and truth she found in the wreckage. It's not a divorce record; she never point blank references Chuck, or their marriage, but the argument could be made that there’s a rebuke against him in every track. Even in the love songs she wrote about Dan, her writing of him is an antithesis of who Chuck was as a partner. The most pointed tracks are even able to claim plausible deniability. There are some people on the internet, though, who criticize the single “Look What You Made Me Do,” as a phrase habitually used by abusers, to which Blair says (in private, of course): “Yeah, that was the whole fucking point.”

The album doesn’t out perform her Bass releases immediately, but no one denies that the Queen B is back, she charms on late night shows, radio spots, and a months-long tour kicks off with high sales. There’s another legal fight about her having to pay for the right to perform her own songs on the tour, and as infuriating as that is, Blair is restored at having herself as an artist back.

Of course, to the public, the addressee in many of the songs is a mystery. Who is “Gorgeous” about? Or “Dress”? Or “Call It What You Want”? Many a pop culture think-piece is written on the topic, but no one guesses right. The most popular theory though, since they appear in public so often nowadays, is that Blair is dating Serena. It turns out to be a pretty good cover for keeping their real relationships private, so they play it up.

(sidebar: in the effort to hold of the Divorce Record allegations, Aaron had her tweak the bridge in Gorgeous, the original lines she demo’ed for him were: you make me so happy it turns back to sad / there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have / guess I’ll just stumble on back to my man / unless you want to take me home)

(It’s actually a testament to the loyalty and restraint of the people around them, because Blair and Dan are shit at being subtle while they’re together. )

Speaking of the people around them, it’s a bit hilarious how their lives all intertwine and overlap. There’s Dan’s sister, who’s hated Blair’s ex-husband for years, and who’s now decidedly not dating Blair’s ex-boyfriend. (“Just friends,” she and Nate insist to anyone who even comes close to asking, but Blair thinks they doth protest too much). And there’s Blair's best friend who was her former nemesis and Dan’s ex but is now dating Blair’s colleague and producer. Speaking of her colleague and producer, Aaron—who just so happens to be her lawyer’s son—he’s also in a poly-relationship with Dan’s best friend and bandmate, Vanessa Abrams. Vanessa who, on more than one occasion, Blair has caught giving Serena the eye, and vice versa.

They are all kind of a mess, but Blair finds she loves it that way. Her supposedly pristine life had been fake anyway. She much prefers this.

She and Dan keep their relationship a secret through her stadium tour and into awards season, when they decide to finally come out of the shadows.

“I’ve never really come out before,” Dan jokes, “everybody just already kinda knew.”

They pick the American Music Awards as the event. Blair gives him one last out in the limo ride over, but he doesn’t want to take it. He’s not ignorant of the public attention and pressure she lives with, but he loves her more than he’s afraid of that.

He gets out of the car first on his side, then comes around to open her door and help her out onto the red carpet. She kisses him as soon as she’s on her feet, limo door still open, cameras flashing in front of them.

The internet loses its collective mind. Intrigue suddenly sprouts up around this unassuming sad boi indie artist. Streams of Punisher and Strangers in the Alps hit all time highs. Dan’s been represented by his dad this whole time, but now Rufus jokes, “I think I can’t afford you.”

To ask him if his life has changed is stupid, of course it has, but his focus doesn’t. Dan’s attention is always only on the music. On the music, and on Blair.

Every year, Vanessa orchestrates a benefit show at one of their old favorite clubs in Brooklyn. It’s usually just Vanessa, Jenny, and Dan, but once she’s earned the trust of Dan’s sisters, Blair appears too. People go feral for a bootleg when they hear through the grapevine that she covered “A Case of You,” with Dan on the dulcimer.

For two people who love playing music, and love playing music together, they don’t do it in public very often. It becomes something that they save for just each other, and only occasionally will they perform together in public. Dan plays on Blair’s NPR TIny Desk once, and once for WFUV, they do a cover of “Dust to Dust.” it’s OBSCENE. sex in the studio amirite

The dark corners of the internet (fangirls) start looking a little too closely at their lyrics, and it’s only a matter of time before a fan tweet theorizes that Blair Waldorf had an affair with sad boi indie guy while she was married.

Chuck jumps on the rumor, plays it up in an attempt to smack Blair down after the success of her latest record. He calls her a cheater, a gold-digger, all the accusations he floated during the divorce and more.

In response, Blair releases a single. She wrote it while she and Dan were first together all those years ago, and kept it for her. At the time, she never planned on letting it see the light of day, she wasn’t even sure she would share it with Dan. But where she is now, she feels happy and safe in sharing this piece of her soul.

When she drops “ivy,” it's a confirmation of the rumors, but unapologetic. Comedians applaud her gall on late night shows. She was accused of having an affair, and she said, yeah I fucked him, and I wrote this ballad about it.

It isn’t pristine, or the most graceful thing to admit, but Blair is happy, and she won’t pretend to be sorry for being happy. She releases another album (Loneliest Time), then another (Lover), as does Dan (the more rockabilly Sleepwalkers). And three years after her divorce, they marry in a private ceremony with only their nearest and dearest in attendance. They keep the marriage quiet for six months after the fact. And, in the meantime, Blair sits down with Aaron to strategize re-recording her masters.

She starts with a single from her last record under the Bass umbrella. She’d written “This Love” about her and Chuck’s on-again, off-again relationship before he finally gave in and married her. On touring, she’d grown increasingly tired of it, she’d hated it for a while there. But her life and heart have come full circle, and now she can sing it with a new perspective.

When “This Love (B’s Version)” drops, she posts a set of photos on instagram:

The cover of the new single, which is a close up of her face, eyes closed, lips red, another set of lips kissing her cheek

The original photo used for the cover, zoomed out to see Dan kissing Blair’s cheek.

Another photo of Blair and Dan in their home at the West Village, forehead to forehead, facing each other.

A candid shot of Blair in the studio, wiping her eyes after tearing up while recording vocals.

Another candid of Blair and Aaron hugging once they wrapped.

Blair writes the caption of the post herself, which reads:

It’s funny how the meanings of songs can change as you change. When I first recorded “This Love,” I hadn’t even met the love of my life yet. I thought my big, magical, cyclical love story was done. Then, when I learned it wasn’t that magical at all, I couldn’t bring myself to sing the song anymore, its meaning had become tainted, hurtful. But then, after enough time, and with the right person, something amazing happened. I found a new meaning in it, deeper, happier, and it was like my life had finally caught up to what I had written all those years ago. These hands had to let it go free, but “This Love” has finally come back to me, and now I share it with you. xoxo, B

And CURTAIN

PS: this is how they announce Blair’s pregnancy when it happens

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vinelark · 2 years ago

Note

For the writer's ask meme, 4, 24, and/or 48 for "buy back the secrets"?

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

[Sunday, 10:23pm] Robin did u know some species of carnivorous bats eat mice for dinner https://www.imdb.com/title/tk0494716/ Oracle On it.

me, googling “do bats eat mice”: please please please i desperately want this line to work oh thank god okay cool

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they?

there are!! chapter 3 is freshest in my mind, so those easter eggs off the top of my head:

“Two minutes later Nightwing is reuniting with Agent Blue after a mid-season death scare…” i mentioned this in the notes, but agent blue is a very self-indulgent nod to my friends’ oc bf we cooked up for dick. i love him

“I’m…” Tim glances at Kon. “I’m safe, Steph. I swear. You can tell everyone I’ll be home for dinner.” there wasn’t a super clear way to work this into kon’s pov but in my mind the “i’ll be home for dinner” thing is the bats’ current “i really am safe” code phrase, so this is tim telling steph he’s actually okay and not kidnapped or stuck in a mirror dimension or any other reasonable assumption

and in the final reddit thread:

burnttoast51 · 11 hours ago yea wasn’t the guy from high school musical in it reference to lucas grabeel playing kon in smallville, which i still can’t believe is a thing that happened

dr4per · 13 minutes ago the movie probably sucked anyway. oh well 😌 username is a nod to alvin draper, this is tim being a little shit (i know at least one person caught this/mentioned it in a comment!)

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

it was “been a number and a name” by WynterSky and YES i recommend it! fantastic plotty, action-y timkon fic that is, delightfully, set in the 90s and has an absolutely wonderful early days superboy & robin dynamic, and also leans into the Uh Oh controlling supervillain handler dynamic between lex & kon that’s teased in the reign of the supermen animated movie—kon is acting on lex’s behalf for reasons revealed in the fic, and the reveal is very good and there are many pangs to be had. definitely going to be rereading this one!

fic writer ask meme

#asks #i know in like an hour i'm gonna sit up in bed like 'omg i forgot 10 other easter eggs' but alas #thank you for asking!!!#fic rec #timkon

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zorilleerrant · 5 months ago

Text

Hmm. I'm going to sort mine.

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

title seemingly has nothing to do w/ the content of the story until it gets dropped during a high-tension dramatic scene 70k words in, making you feel like the world meant for you to be born in time to read it

really bad pun

“Song title (and the rest of the song title)”

A singular word that you don’t recognize, then the definition is the summary

Movie reference Non-musical media reference

Clever double-layer meaning

Help I’ve never titled anything in my life I don’t know what this is I just want it to be out of my hands and posted neither you nor I will ever be pleased with this

I currently have 115 fics on Ao3. Using the above criteria, I’ve determined by own naming predilections.

1: Fifteen. Named for what it says on the tin, because I couldn't think of anything else to do with it, or because naming it the obvious thing is just what makes sense.

(The Hogwarts Gender Union; A Cure For Ohan; Pineapple Pizza; Third Sister; Captain Marvel's Day at the Beach; Are You. You Know. Adopted?; 5 times Marcus hated superheroes and 1 time he didn't; A dog might have got blipped! NOT CLICKBAIT; Harry Potter in: The Batfam Goes To Therapy; Another Loki; Truth or Dare; Heir of Slytherin; Seventh Son; The Yule Ball; Conversations Between a Father and Son)

2: Twenty-two. This makes sense because this is what I think of as a 'normal' title and tend to aim for.

(Growth Like A Nurtured Vine; Providing for the Future; In Every Reading Room; Keep The Hearthfires Burning; The Platitude Against The Wall; A Place To Rest Your Head; To Honor A Debt; What We Learn In Chinese School; In The Mythic Tradition; Half Gay/Half Straight; Even A Broken Clock; On Loan from the Wayne Family Collection; This Changes Nothing; Just a Perfectly Normal Rabbit; Five Degrees West; Narcissus at the River's Edge; Educational Overnight; Everybody Makes Mistakes; Forever Home; Small Town Mentality; Best Hadron Collider; Father of the Year)

3: Seven. Way more than I thought, honestly. I use lyrics when I'm struggling to title because it's in the genre tradition.

(but my dreams they aren't as empty; They Call Me Her; I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon; it's a love story baby just say yes; Good Girls Stay Alive; You're gonna go far, kid; Love Will Tear Us Apart)

4: Zero. The longer a title gets the more antsy it makes me, so I tend to avoid long titles.

5: Seventeen. I used to use these a lot to get easy titles, but then I realized I had no idea what fic that was when it got a kudos, so now I only use a single word if it's unique enough that I can remember why I'd name something that.

(Faildeadly; Anabasis; Y-incision; Proprioception; Change!; Anathema; Terrible; Protest; Marathon; Frieda; Worry; Answers; Parabatai; Courage; Besties; Ferret; Babyproofing)

6: Zero. I've only got the one super long fic and it's got the more obvious song naming instead.

7: Ten. Bad puns... or really good puns? Hmm?

(Faire's Fare; Just Monkey Business; When Pigs Fly; Robin's Egg Blue; Ace Shot; The Magic Word; Gift of the Magpie; Attraction; Captain America's Gay Fling; Swearing a Red, White, and Blue Streak)

8: Zero. I just don't like the format.

9: Zero. It always feels condescending to me to assume people don't know a word, so I try not to define them.

10: Twenty-five. Referential titles are an easy go-to for me. I did notice several of them either took a quote directly from canon or used a titling/title card convention from canon, so I wonder if that should be a separate category, or two different ones. I'm also uncertain whether mythology/folklore references should be considered 'media references', or maybe grouped in with titles taken from aphorisms and sayings. Do enough people quote Shakespeare to give him his own category?

(One Face, One Voice, One Habit, and Two Persons; Tendi and T'Lyn at Their Table; Red Bean Buns of Destiny; Does Talia Have A Sister?; Who Gets To Decide Her Own Damn Fate; The Excellent Adventures of Keanu Rhesus; My Concealed Lady; Stabby the SecUnit; Rapidly Expanding Air; The Monkey or The Egg; Words, words, words; And the Mischief of Monkey; In the Museums of the Night; Auntie Yelena Saves Christmas; Dick Grayson, College Student; Meanwhile, At Gotham Grace; Animorty Cricksing: New Pants; Better Together; Don't Call Me Nymphadora; Brightest Witch of Her Age; Just Tonks; Not Always in the Same Way; No Flamz Prepz; A Fish Without A Bicycle; The Boy)

11: Eight. I'll be honest I assumed I'd have more of these because I do love multi-layered meanings. I try hard to achieve them but I'd say they're the most difficult sort of title.

(A Great Deal; Just a Moment of Peace; The Family You Build; Where There's Life There's Hope; Love Like A Sister's; Coffee or Tea?; Brain Freeze; Something that Starts with a P)

12: Eleven. Yeah. Sometimes I struggle with a title for so long I just give up and name it whatever pops into my head....

(Billy Batson in the Wrong Dimension; Incentive Structure; The Burden of the Sword; One Last Kryptonian; An Island Paradise; The Superhero Code; What Makes A Hero; Happy Year of the Tiger; The Smallest Details; Plot Armor; A Better Mousetrap)

types of fic titles

title is a literal description of the story (”5 times x did y”, “first kiss”, etc)

perfect formatting, title is evocative of the story’s main themes

song lyrics

3 feet long all lowercase (overlaps w/ song lyrics)

one word. only one.

#look i said something

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neon-junkie · 3 years ago

Text

Why can’t this be Love? - Chpt.1

Summary: You've never really fit in, despite trying, despite being on the cheerleading team, despite awkwardly socialising with the popular crowd. It's not for you - these people aren't for you. Yet, you don't know how to escape! Do you continue following a dead end? Or finally break away?

The answer is made for you after your 'date,' a boy on the basketball team, bails on you, and uninvites you from some stupid basketball after party. Whatever, that's fine. But what's not fine is the agonisingly long walk home. Oh, in the dark, late at night!

However, your saviour finds you, and not only does he save you from walking home alone, but the conflicting feelings that you've spent the last few years with.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Cheerleader Reader

Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Not much detail is given about her appearance, other than she wears heavy eyeliner, and is clearly an outcast that is trying to fit in.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Awkward flirting, Drinking, Angst, Comfort, Generic High School Bullying, Denial of feelings, Feelings realisation.

[Chapter 2] [Read on AO3]

Notes: oh my gooddddd. EDDIE!!! AHHHHHH!!!! hes so fucking cute!!!!!!!! this man has brought me out of my writers block that i've been suffering with for MONTHS.

I haven't written anything for ST before, so sorry if anything is out of character. I also have no fucking clue how American schools work, so I'm going to avoid mentioning it at all costs. The schooling system in the UK is waaaay different!!

This is set a good couple of months before S4 starts. Fic title is inspired by a Van Halen song hehe.

Anyway, enjoy. This is gonna be a series. IDK how long it'll be, but we'll see where this freak takes us!

Chapter 1 - Curbside Collection

Boys.

Stupid boys.

Stupid boys, or specifically, a singular boy, that has bailed on you after tonight's first-of-the-year basketball game.

Really, what did you expect?

"I want to spend tonight with the guys," your date had said. "You can get a ride home with Misty, right?" he asked, referring to your friend - your friend that hadn't even come to tonight's game, considering she isn't into the sport, let alone in with the 'popular crowd.'

Not that you are, either.

Cheerleading is something that your parents pushed on you, back in Middle school, back when they thought their "darling little girl" was somewhat ordinary. Back when you hadn't discovered rock music, Lord of the Rings, and skinny jeans.

But, oh god, you would never show those things to your parents! To them, you're their perfect high grade daughter, who's excelling in her classes, and attends cheerleading training twice a week.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that you were the 'weirdo' of the bunch, the strange girl that is always shoved into the heaviest point of the cheer pyramid, carrying everyone's weight, whilst those on top get all the praise for their "fantastic tricks!"

Regardless, despite your heavy eyeliner and brooding expression, you somehow managed to catch the attention of a boy on the basketball team. It was probably a dare, which would explain why he's bailing on you now, leaving you to walk a few miles home, alone, in the dark...

Fuck!

After zipping up your jacket, you begin your soon-to-be exhausting walk home - a walk that would have been far quicker in your 'dates' car. At least it's not cold tonight; there's a slight chill to the September air, but you'll soon warm up once you get moving, and maybe when you crack open one of the few ciders in your backpack. The ciders that were meant to be saved for tonight's after party, but it seems you're uninvited...

A bottle of cider is pulled from your backpack, and once the chilled bottle comes to rest in the palm of your hand, you suddenly realise that you don't have anything to open it with. Fuck. Can God give you a break already?!

Your mind trails back to a trick you saw a few months ago, where one of the basketball lads opened a bottle using the side of the curb. You wander another street onwards before deciding to attempt that trick, wanting to be out of view of the school, and your classmates, who thankfully live in the opposite direction to you.

One knee meets the gravelled road as you crouch down, bringing the bottle of cider into position. You let out an uneasy sigh as you remember how that guy did it; he used the heel of his hand to crack the cap against the curb, and after a few attempts, the cap popped right off. Of course, he called it "easy," but after your first few attempts, the cap is definitely not budging, and your hand is slowly starting to throb with every hit.

"For fuck’s sake," you curse as you hit it one more time, desperate for the taste of lukewarm cider, a stranger that'll keep you company on your painful walk home.

One more hit, and you let out a grumble as you give up. Your head rolls back to the sky, and whilst still in cheerleader uniform, you let out a soft, "fuck," cursing God (or whatever is up there) for not letting you have a drink on the walk home.

That's when a chuckle catches your attention, and you lock sights with the last person you'd ever expect to interact with.

"Are you trying to open it? Is that what you're trying to do?" Eddie Munson asks with a cheeky smile on his lips. He's leaning against a lamp post, mere meters away from you. His arms are crossed, with one hand fiddling with the ends of his curly hair, almost as if he's nervous, but covering it up.

Eddie is, from what you've seen, a strange guy. And you don't just mean because he likes rock music, and plays D&D. Oh, no, there's something about this man that isn't quite right. Trauma? Perhaps? Shit, maybe you two have something in common.

You've never interacted, minus a brief interaction a few days ago. Your 'date' had shot him a degrading comment after passing him in the halls, and Eddie had responded with a laugh, and a comment that had you almost in tears.

"Your jeans are always so tight, Munson. No wonder your dick's so small, it must be suffocating in there," your date had sneered. A weak comment, but whatever, you just wanted to get to your next lesson, but someone was eager for a fight. It must have been his hormones acting up, or just boys being boys.

Eddie, despite being on his own, a lone wolf without the company of his misfits, had chuckled as he chalked up his reply. "Oh, he's just fine. He's a little sore right now," Eddie replied.

Your date raised his brow, and Eddie continued his comeback. "I mean, fucking your mom is a tiring chore, but someone has to do it, right? Which is why I'm able to fit in these tight jeans."

You couldn't help but laugh. A 'your mom' joke? Classic.

Your date shot you a disgusted glance, and hey, maybe that's the reason why he ditched you tonight. Maybe it's been sitting on his mind this whole time - his beloved cheerleader had giggled at a joke that the freak Munson has cast. How sensitive!

Coming back to the present, you let out a defeated, "yeah."

Eddie chuckles once more, although you know he's not laughing at you, but rather, with you. "I'm surprised your boyfriend isn't here to thirst your quench," Eddie comments with a shrug.

"Boyfriend," you scoff under your breath. "He's never been my boyfriend, especially not now."

Eddie looks genuinely sympathetic, and bridges the space between you two with a few lanky strides. "I take it you really need that drink then, huh?"

A nod is all you need. No puppy dog eyes, no heart-warming story. Eddie takes the bottle from your grasp, and pops the cap off by using one of his chunky rings, rather than the curb. He smiles as you take a large gulp, instantly feeling a buzz throughout your body, despite it being no more than 4% alcohol.

Placing the bottle down on the curb, you swing your backpack over your shoulder once more, and say, "here," as you pull out another cider, and offer it to Eddie.

"Are you sure?" Eddie questions, only to be taken back as you shove the cider into his hands.

He pops the cap off his own cider, and grins before taking a gulp. "Here," Eddie repeats as he offers you his hand, pulling you up from your awkward gremlin pose, now with an open bottle of cider in your hand. Your backpack is slung over your shoulders, and a small gust of wind follows the movement, dancing along the hemline of your skirt - a minor movement, but you're certain Eddie's eyes trailed down there before meeting yours.

"So..." Eddie groans. "Do I dare ask where your 'not boyfriend' is?"

"Probably at the after party. I dunno," you shrug.

Eddie's thumb reassuringly rubs over the back of your knuckles, and only then do both of you realise that your hand is still in his. You both break away, begrudgingly, but hey, maybe it's for the best? The freak holding hands with the weirdo cheerleader is a rumour that'd spread like hot fire around the school, and you don't fancy dealing with the backlash.

"Woah, hang on," Eddie nervously laughs as he raises his spare hand. "You mean, you've been uninvited to the after party? Or are you refusing to attend?"

"Your first assumption was right," you shrug, and take a swig from your drink. "Well, I think I was?"

Eddie remains quiet, but raises both brows with a gesture that silently reads, 'go on.'

After grumbling, you begin explaining. "I don't know what happened. Tonight was normal, or as normal as it can be. I was cheering, and he was playing basketball, but as soon as the game was over, he approached me, and said that he wanted to spend tonight with his friends..."

Eddie nods softly, listening to you ramble, using him like a therapist, still standing on your lonesome on the side of the road.

"...His friends were in the background, and they were... laughing. I just accepted it and left. When I went to change out of my uniform, the other girls were also laughing, so I didn't bother changing. I just grabbed my bag and left."

Your eyes focus on the floor as you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as disappointment takes over, and there's faint tears brewing in the corner of your eyes. Despite not being able to see Eddie's expression, you can feel sympathy radiating from him, and in a wild daydream, you'd throw yourself into his arms in hopes of finding comfort.

Little do you know, Eddie would happily comfort you.

"So..." Eddie heavily exhales, bringing your attention back to him. "Let me walk you home, then."

Your expression softens, no longer casting an imaginary scowl at your ex-not-boyfriend. Eddie Munson, the freak, has not only helped you open your cider, and listened to your therapy worthy rant, but also wants to walk you home?!

Obviously, you're going to accept his kind gesture. Being a woman has waaaaay too many flaws, and walking home alone is one of the main ones. Having Eddie there almost eliminates that target, even if Eddie is lanky, and only fights using the roll of a dice.

However, what is going to come of this if someone sees you two? A cheerleader and a freak, walking home together, joint ciders in hand. Fuck, both of you are going to get it in the neck, and probably from the same bunch of people. Social circles aren't meant to cross, especially opposite ones, but you've never really fit into the 'popular' squad.

"You're more than welcome to say 'no,'" Eddie sheepishly comments, his eyes trailing from yours to focus on his cider instead.

Shit. You moron! You haven't even responded!

"No. I mean, yes! I'd love for you to walk me home, but do you live this way? I don't want you going out of your way to-"

"-Yeah," Eddie cuts you off. "Sure, I live this way," he shrugs.

Ugh, he's lying!! However, you don't fancy rejecting his offer - not only is it a bonus to walk home with someone, but he's also so... interesting. Entreating. Perhaps even... cute? With that curly, untamed hair, and his lanky frame that reminds you of a baby deer attempting to walk for the first time.

"Come on, Princess," Eddie says with a light laugh as he takes a few strides forwards, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Let's get you home!"

Taglist: @bubblegumcat229, @buckys2thicc

If you would like to join the taglist, then please drop me a message!!

#strangerwriting #stranger things #why cant this be love #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #female reader #f!reader #fem reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things s4

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alphabet-blues · 4 years ago

Photo

Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

#Parkner #Drowning Lessons #Fic #Chapter One #Parkner Euphoria Fic #Graphic Drug Usage #Harley Keener #Peter Parker #Keenker #Parley #Harley/Peter #Harley Keener/Peter Parker

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dirtyoatmeall · 4 years ago

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Bokuto’s Cool Sister (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

A/N: Here is an actual fic! I have a list of shit to write I’m slowly working through, next will either be more head canons or a one shot. I’m re-watching AOT rn to get caught up with the new season so sorry about being absent! Luv u guys a lot

Pairing: Tsukishima x Bokuto sibling reader (No pronouns or gendered language used toward reader, not referred to as sister just used for title purposes), Bokuto x Akaashi, Kenma x Kuroo

Word Count: 2k! (longest ever!)

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (everyone at least 20), mentions of secs

~~~

You groaned as you neared the door to your apartment, seeing that the door was not cracked open a little for you to nudge open like you had asked your brother to do as you pulled into the complex. You remember him vaguely mentioning friends coming over, and you can hear music faintly coming from the apartment, but he always checks his phone, especially when you're coming from the store.

You try to balance the milk on your knee to open the door, and just as you think you have it, the door doesn’t budge. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your brother never locks the doors, why would he now? His car is in the parking lot and you can hear noise inside, so he’s home. Instead of putting groceries on the ground and fishing your keys out of your purse like a normal person, you make the decision to kick the door, not very hard, but hard enough to be heard in the apartment.

“Kou! Why is the door locked? Will you come open it for me, I have groceries!” You can hear your brother tumbling towards the door, apologies flying out of his mouth a mile a minute. The door swings open, revealing your brother, grimace on his face. “Sorry! I totally forgot you were at the store, I think ‘Kaashi might’ve locked it.” You sighed, not being able to stay mad at your brother’s friend.

You walk in, jerking your head in the general direction of the parking lot, “I have some more in my car, can you go grab it?” He nods, grabbing his key ring and jogging out. Both of you had the spare key to each other’s cars, which turned out to be more convenient then you originally thought.

You move toward the kitchen, yelling out a greeting to your brother’s boyfriend. “Akaashi! Next time you come over to fuck my brother let me know before so I can have my keys out, or just leave the door unlocked and go in his room!” You had a joking, yet scolding tone of voice, imagining his flustered state at your words. What you did not expect, was a hyena-like laugh to come from the direction of the living room. You were almost positive your brother said Akaashi was here.

You place the groceries on the counter and make your way to the living room, freezing in the doorway. Akaashi was there, but so were 3 other people. Akaashi was red, shaking his head that was resting in his palms. There was someone playing on a gaming console on the couch who had their legs thrown over the lap of the laughing one, and one on the other couch, tall and blonde, who looked weirdly familiar, who had a faint smirk on their face. You grimace, you didn’t realize your brother had actual friends over, he usually just meant Akaashi or the occasionally Hinata. “Oops sorry ‘Kaashi, didn't know Kou was having other people over.”

He lifted his head, face still slightly flushed and smiled. “It’s fine (Y/N)-san, do you need help with the groceries?” You shook your head, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen, where you could hear your brother rummaging around. “Nah, I made Koutaro get the rest. If you guys are staying for dinner let me know and I’ll make something instead of making him go to the food truck for me. By the way, who are the rest of you? I literally thought Kou was lying about having friends.”

The blonde one snorted, you narrowed your eyes slightly, he looked so familiar, you just couldn’t quite place it. The one playing the console seemed familiar too, you think you might’ve seen him on Twitter. The only one you didn’t recognize was the first to speak. “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro, we all played volleyball together in high school, I’m surprised he hasn’t talked about us before.”

You nod in understanding, “Oh so that’s where. I’m sure he has, I just probably wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. I mean you guys seem kinda familiar, more the other two than you, were you like benched a lot?” The quiet one next to him looks up to see his reaction and snorts at the disbelief on Kuroo’s face. “Yeah, Kuro wasn’t very good.” The half blonde says, giggling softly as Kuroo gasps and yells at him. “Kenma!” He turns to you, “I was the captain and a very good player actually.” You laugh as Kenma behind him makes a face that says ‘That’s what you think.’ Before Kuroo could whine some more, Akaashi speaks.

“Kenma-san is a YouTuber, which is probably where you’ve seen him. He and Kuroo-san played for Nekoma, I’m surprised you didn’t remember them from that, you remembered Lev-san.” Kenma actually laughs at that, and Kuroo is pouting as Akaashi continues, a cheeky smile on his face that told you he purposefully sprinkled that last little tidbit in.

“Tsukishima-san, aren’t you a museum-studies major?” The blonde on the loveseat across from the other three nods, and you snap your fingers, finally realizing where you know him from. “Oh, that makes sense! I think we’ve had a class or two together. I’m an archaeology major.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but before he could speak, your brother finally comes in from the kitchen.

“(Y/NNNNN), I put everything away, we were going to go to Onigiri Miya tonight, wanna come?” You nod and swat at his had when he ruffles your hair before plopping down to his boyfriend. You go to leave your brother and his friends, taking one last glance at Tsukishima, who seemed to have the same idea, he averted his eyes the moment yours met, and you smirked to yourself on the way to the kitchen to re-put away the groceries. You loved your brother, but he definitely did not know where to put things, your thought validified as you pull the eggs from the pantry, switching it with the instant ramen packets in the fridge. Good thing he was a great volleyball player. ` Later that night, you join the boys for dinner at Onigiri Miya. You take two separate cars, you driving your brother and Akaashi and Kuroo driving Kenma and Tsukishima. Kuroo made a joke about racing there, which you took as a personal challenge, much to the dismay of Akaashi. You would’ve won too, but you had to pull over to kick Koutaro in the backseat for playing Nickelback. He buys your food as an apology, and Kuroo’s food because he won (you venomed him later for your share of food, which he promptly venomed back to you with angry faces in the description.). The 6 of you sat in a corner booth, you were sandwiched between Akaashi and Tsukkishima with Kuroo between your brother and Kenma on the other side.

The table was loud with jokes, laughing, and yelling as everyone ate their meals. You snuck drinks of ‘Akaashi’s’ margarita when the waitress wasn’t looking (You were 20 and Akaashi submits to peer pressure from you easily). “(Y/N), are you not 21 yet?” Kuroo asked as he watched you nudge the drink toward Akaashi as the waitress talked to the other table. You turned to Kuroo, cheeks just barely flushed. “Hm? Oh no I’m not, I’m two years younger than you guys, I turn 21 in a few months.”

Kuroo hummed in understanding and got a suspiciously mischievous look on his face. “Oh, you’re the same age as Tsukkishima, and you guys have similar majors, how interesting” Your eyebrows furrow and you snort. “So do over a thousand other people Kuroo, its not a super niche subject.” You turn to Tsukkishima and continue, “Hm I didn’t realize we were in the same year, I thought you were older, must be your grumpy grandpa like disposition.” Akaashi explained what disposition meant to your brother and Kuroo snickered before he was shut down by Kenma, who has been doing an excellent job of roasting Kuroo at every chance he gets. “You laugh like everyone doesn’t call you old man behind your back.”

You laughed for the umpth time that night, Tsukishima watching you, he could really see the sibling resemblance when you laughed. You throw your head back and laugh loudly, from your gut much like your brother. Tsukishima looks away from you, catching Kuroos eye in the process, the blonde rolls his eyes at the smirk on Kuroos face. Out of the 5 of them, he was the only one not in a relationship and Kuroo has been trying to set him up since Bokuto and Akaashi finally got together at Akaashi’s graduation.

Tsukishima looks at you again, watching you take a sip of the margarita, and subsequently watches it almost come out of your nose as you laugh at something Akaashi said to Bokuto, clutching the former's shoulder, hand over your nose. There was no doubt that you were pretty, and you did have similar interests. His thoughts were interrupted by you turning to him, knee-knocking against his thigh. “Have you taken Anth 267?” He nods “I took it last quarter.” He replies and watches you sigh in relief. “Oh thank god, I’m having trouble meeting her insane essay expectations. I usually have ‘Kaashi read through mine but would it be ok if I sent them to you? Or at least bounced topics off you?” When he agrees you smile, unlocking your phone and sliding it towards him, a new contact open. “Oh great, here, why don’t you put your number in?” As he fills it out, his eyes involuntarily flit to the text message appearing at the top of your screen. From: That Sunny Bitch

Ew you think Tsukki’s hot? He’s a good volleyball player but he was a meanie in high school 😝

He held back the urge to smirk. That must be Hinata based on the name. He quickly finished the contact and gave your phone back before giving his to you, and you quickly typed in your contact info, as well as snapping a quick contact photo. It was super close to your face with your tongue out, a good tell of your personality. You give his phone back and the two of you talk more about school and classes before everyone gets ready to leave.

Your brother stands up first, and you take advantage of his large frame and chug the rest of the margarita down, smiling big at Akaashi who chastises you about drinking it so fast. You all wave to Osamu as you leave, and before Tsukishima can get to Kuroo’s car, he turns to the group, smirking. “I've got to run Kenma by our apartment to grab his charger, we’ll meet you guys.” You nod, handing your keys to Akaashi and turn to Tsukishima. “You can sit in the back with me Tsukishima!” Though you might be promoted to passenger if Bokuto makes bad music choices again.” You glare at your brother as you finish the sentence, and he whines about how his taste ‘isn’t that bad!’

The car ride back to your apartment is short, and you spend it chatting with Tsukki, as you’re now allowed to call him, and you spend the rest of the night with the boys, playing games and watching movies until early morning. Kuroo and Kenma leave first, and Kenma made your night when he looked you in the eye and said goodbye. Tsukki left about an hour later, his roommate picked him up. Akaashi ended up staying over, and you were glad your bedroom was on the other side of the apartment from your brother’s. You fell into bed content with the day, happy you were able to meet your brother’s friends.

You awoke mid-day, and you browsed your notifications before dropping your phone on your bed when you read one text message, heat spreading over your cheeks. You definitely do not remember changing his contact name.

From: Hot classmate Tsukki

Hey, how about we go over your essay over some coffee tonight?

#my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x you

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dramaticsnakes · 4 years ago

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It starts with love and it ends with you

Hello! I wrote this for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange! This is my gift for @doing-my-demibest (I can’t @ him properly for some reason but I’ll send it too). You wanted to get some moxiety (any dynamic), a high school au, or a soulmate au. All of which are things I’ve never written before. Thus, I decided to do all of them ajlkfdjslkg. I really hope you’ll enjoy Benji!

Thank you so much to @anxiously-creating @rainbowbutterfrosting and @larrymalecsolangelo for all reading through the fic at different times and help me fix it up! I took the title from Meteor Shower by Cavetown because I honestly wasn’t entirely sure what to call it akfldsklghl.

Pairing: Ambiguous Moxiety (Could be considered queerplatonic)

Word count: 6757

TW: Cursing, and references to feeling unwanted. I think that’s it though. Please tell me if I missed anything.

Summary: Virgil never wanted a soulmate. The concept was frightening to him. That however, did not stop Patton Morales from showing up in his life.

Virgil Capule didn’t like the idea of soulmates.

He had tried to like the idea once. Tried to imagine being with someone who cared for him unconditionally. He tried to imagine someone touching him, a colorful mark appearing on his skin. A mark that proved that this was someone he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. And there was nothing that could be done about it.

Shit, there was nothing he could do about it.

It was a definite factor in Virgil’s life, however, it was a factor that was entirely out of his control. Virgil didn’t like it when things were out of his control. It filled him with a lingering sort of dread, that made his heart beat faster in an unpleasant way.

It was absolutely terrifying to him, that one day, he might encounter someone, who he would essentially be forced to spend the rest of his life with in one way or another. Who’d be forced to spend the rest of their life with him?

Virgil didn’t like being touched anyway. It made him feel uneasy. He wasn’t sure what his excuse was for that anymore. He didn’t really need one, but often he felt as if he did. As if he needed a reason to take a step back whenever someone got a little too close.

The soulmate one was alright for now, and that was probably part of it. There was no reason to touch any stranger he came by, even for a brief moment, because it would change his entire day, his entire life, if a mark appeared.

And Virgil couldn’t imagine a single time in his life, where he’d be mentally prepared for that.

So when he could avoid it, he did so, and when he couldn’t he always inhaled sharply, never quite daring to look down at his hand or any other spot that might’ve grazed someone else's skin on accident. It helped to wear hoodies, he’d learned, which was great, because he never wore anything else anyway.

Virgil lived his life as an irrelevant sophomore, sitting in the corner by himself, because he was never quite sure how to get the hang of talking to anyone. Miraculously, he had managed to befriend two seniors, Janus and Remus, who he hung out with during the lunch breaks. They had essentially ‘adopted’ him one day, and Virgil had initially thought it was a joke or a prank of sorts when they asked if he wanted to eat with them. He’d become more and more doubtful of that over time, however. Both of them were quite unique individuals, and neither of them seemed to have too many friends in their respective classes, but they always had each other. And Virgil too, because they didn’t mind his presence, and Virgil often found that he enjoyed theirs too. The fact that they were seniors however, could of course prove to be a problem later on, because it meant that he would be pretty much friend-less once they left.

But it was okay, he told himself. It was all going to be okay.

Virgil was content with being like that. Well, content was a big word. Virgil never thought he could consider himself content per se. He was always a little on guard. A little too reserved and defensive. But Virgil was okay. Concerned out of his mind of course. Terrified of being alone.

That was of course before Patton Morales came into his life.

Virgil didn’t remember exactly what day of the week it was, because honestly, who kept track of that? And it wasn’t as if it mattered to him at first anyhow.

He’d showed up one day, while Virgil was in his English class, clearly a new student, and Virgil hadn’t thought much of it. He’d been listening to music on his headphones, and was too caught up in the lyrics of a My Chemical Romance song to notice that someone was about to sit down right next to him, for whichever reason.

Virgil had glanced up, and moved a bit to the side to avoid getting in the way. The second Virgil had removed his headphones to get ready for the lesson, Patton had turned to him almost immediately with a big smile on his face. There was some awkwardness visible in it too of course, as most first encounters had. “Hi!” he said.

Already then, Virgil was quite surprised, because he couldn’t quite remember a time where someone had greeted him like that recently. Virgil muttered, “Hi…”

“What’s your name?” Patton asked.

“Virgil.” he replied, “Uh, you?”

“Patton.” he said, and reached out with his hand to greet Virgil. Virgil’s eyes widened, and he tapped the table with his fingers.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” he said, his heart beating as he awaited either a question or a strange resigned expression.

Patton merely made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth, and placed his hand on the table again. He smiled. “Same to you!”

And that was all their encounter really encompassed at first. Class started, and Virgil did his best to pay attention to the teacher. He succeeded more than he did in most classes. He quite liked English class, and he remembered getting quite a few positive comments on his work in it when he was younger. He’d never say too much about that out loud of course. He used to read quite a lot, and he always liked some of the classics, as well as poetry. That was a bit dorky though, and he wasn’t sure if anyone would really care about that. In high school, no one really seemed to receive that many compliments on schoolwork, at least Virgil didn’t. Though he did his best anyway. Something had to keep his grade up after all.

Virgil’s second conversation with Patton had been in that same class the next day. They were all asked to individually analyze a poem, and Patton was tapping his pen against the paper, chewing on his lip.

“Uh, you could comment on the semantics.” Virgil muttered awkwardly, which made Patton turn his head. “There are some words related to storms. It contrasts the ones about light and safety later on.”

“Oh!” Patton said, looking at the poem again, “I see. And lightning sort of uh… Ties the two together?”

“Yeah.” Virgil said with a nod and a hesitant smile. He turned to his own work once again, and Patton started to write.

The lesson continued, and once it was done, Virgil stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “I like your hair!” Patton said and Virgil looked up suddenly. He hadn’t quite expected the comment. “The purple suits you well.”

“Uh, thanks!” Virgil said, giving a friendly nod. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself for a few moments, before he hurried along to get out of the class. He quickly realized that that might’ve appeared rude, but he hadn’t been sure how else to react.

He thought about that quite a lot the time that followed, because Virgil didn’t like messing up. It made him think too much, and it made him groan at himself. He’d messed up his encounter, and now Patton was going to hate him forever.

Of course, Virgil knew that wasn’t objectively true, but his mind was pretty damn convinced and wouldn’t shut up about it at all.

A single class later, Virgil was sitting at his usual lunch table next to a grinning Remus and a Janus who was well into a rant about either society or his philosophy class. Virgil realized he hadn’t quite listened too much at first, his thoughts drifting to all sorts of places.

“And then that bitch had the audacity to suggest that lying was inherently a bad thing! Of course I brought up numerous examples of philosophers who said otherwise, but it turns out that this guy has his own collection of philosophical terms.” Janus spat, “You know, while he has some annoying views, he does seem… Reasonably knowledgeable about it all. Even if he forgot the names of all the philosophers he was talking about.”

“Awh, what’s wrong JanJan? You scared you’re not gonna be the favorite student anymore.” Remus teased.

“I am not the favorite student!” Janus said, “I am the most dreaded student, and excuse me if I’m a little annoyed that this unintimidating ray of sunshine Patton Morales is trying to draw attention away from how much I should be dreaded.” he smirked slightly, “Not that I mind a small challenge for once.”

Virgil looked up suddenly, his mouth gaping slightly. “Did you say Patton Morales?”

Janus laughed in the honey-coated way he sometimes did. “Well look who is awake all of a sudden.” he smiled, “Indeed I did. It’s a new student in my philosophy class.” he leaned forward slightly, “And where do you know him, Stormcloud?”

“We share an english class.” Virgil just said, “He sat next to me the last two times. I don’t know much about him.”

Janus nodded. “I see, I see…” there was a slight sparkling in Janus’ eyes, as if Janus knew something Virgil didn’t. Janus always had a tendency to look like that though, so Virgil didn’t bother questioning it too much. “Has he attempted to strike up a conversation with you?”

“I mean… I mean maybe?” Virgil said.

“Ooh you should start flirting with him, emo! I bet he thinks you’re real hot.” Remus exclaimed.

Virgil rolled his eyes, placing a hand firmly on the table. “Cause flirting with some guy I’ve barely talked to because he may or may not have tried to start a conversation with me to be polite is a great idea.” he said sarcastically, in a way that he was sure Janus gave him a small grin for.

“Well, he seems quite cheerful.” Janus said, licking his bottom lip thoughtfully as he crossed his arms, “He seems like he attempts to get along with most people. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d try his luck with you.”

“Huh.” Virgil said, “He’ll probably give up on that soon enough.”

Patton did, as a matter of fact, not give up.

The next day, Virgil didn’t even have a class with Patton, but somehow he managed to enter his day anyway.

Virgil noticed him down the hall, talking to someone from a different class. One of the theater kids, though Virgil couldn’t quite remember his name. Virgil walked by, looking down as he had grown so used to. Patton turned his head. “Hi Virgil!” he said, with the same sort of joy he had the other day.

There was something interesting about that joy. Something honest and genuine, that Virgil wasn’t used to from obligatory greetings, though maybe he was just reading too much into it.

“Uh, hey Patton.” he said with a quick and awkward salute. He stopped walking though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Was the logical next step to keep walking or to stand still? It was too late now to re-evaluate his choice with any purpose.

“Thanks for the help with English yesterday. It’s not really my strongest subject.” Patton said with a laugh.

Virgil bit lip, mustered a little smile that appeared to come with a little less difficulty than he expected and looked at Patton. “Oh, no or well… I think you were kinda good at it actually.”

“Oh.” Patton said, looking a bit surprised. “Thank you!”

“Uh, yeah you’re… You’re good. Sometimes it's just the wording of the tasks.” he rubbed the side of his neck with his hand.

Patton chuckled, and Virgil realized that he quite liked the sound of that, but he wasn’t sure if that was a weird thought to have. “I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with us?” he prompted. He gestured to the boy next to him. “Roman and I were going to go do that.”

Virgil was very surprised at that request. His first thought was his unspoken agreement to eat lunch with Remus and Janus, but he’d missed that before a few times, if he was working on assignments. “Oh. Sure!” he said.

That was new. People didn’t usually ask him to hang out with them.

“Yay!” Patton said, “Let’s go.”

The other boy, Roman turned to him, and tilted his head curiously to the side. “Hold on a minute… Aren’t you that boy who usually eats lunch with Remus?”

Virgil’s posture became more cautious. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

“Nothing. He’s just my brother is all.” he chuckled, “Has he given you a headache yet?”

“Oh, multiple.” Virgil said, chuckling back, “But in the good sort of way I guess. He’s fun.”

Roman hummed, “He talks about you sometimes.”

The three found a little secluded spot near the library, where they ate lunch and talked. It was strange. Virgil wasn’t used to being around anyone else during the lunch break, but it wasn’t that bad at all. He kept an eye on Patton.

It was that day, Virgil noted that Patton liked puns, and made a lot of them. They were stupid of course, but Virgil liked them. They were terrible and stupid in the funny sort of way.

After lunch, Virgil was added to a group chat with Patton Morales, Roman and someone Virgil hadn’t talked to before, named Logan.

Patton had made friends quickly. After a few days at the school, he’d already made two. Or… Three perhaps? Did Virgil count as a friend? Not yet, probably.

For a moment though, the thought passed through Virgil’s mind, that maybe he kind of wanted to be.

The next day in english class, they were even more familiar with one another. They laughed and talked a bit right before class started, and Virgil didn’t hesitate to help Patton when he once again struggled with his work. Virgil had a hard time withholding a laugh when Patton doodled a little alligator in a vest in the corner of his sheet, and wrote the word in-vest-igator right above it.

Virgil was filled with an instinctual dread when the teacher brought up a group project. Virgil knew how this went. People would turn to one another and make groups, and he would be forced to be in a group with people who didn’t want him there. He wasn’t the type of person who took charge, but maybe he would end up doing all the work anyhow. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. His heart beat faster.

“Wanna work together?” Patton asked gently, turning towards Virgil.

“Huh?” he said, he shook the surprise off him, “Oh yeah, that’d be cool I guess.”

His body became less tense, and Patton smiled at him.

It made sense of course, because Patton was new, so Patton hadn’t had the time to make any friends in the class. Turning to Virgil was the only natural option.

The two of them worked on the project throughout the class, and Patton did his best throughout. It didn’t take that much explaining and reading before Patton understood the concepts they had to analyze in the story they’d received, and it was the first time in a while Virgil felt like the work was evenly distributed. It was the first time in a while Virgil felt like he was wanted and useful at the same time.

They didn’t finish the project in the class, which meant homework, which meant stress, which was unfortunate.

“Do you think it’d be easier to finish if we were together? We could do it after school tomorrow maybe?” Patton asked.

Virgil nodded. “Oh yeah. I can do that!”

Virgil didn’t usually like the idea of staying after school. It was a tiring place to be, and frankly it stressed him out a bit to be there more than absolutely necessary. But he needed to get the group project done, and for some reason it didn’t feel quite as dull if Patton was there.

It was strange how easily they clicked.

Before Virgil knew it they were staying after school to complete the work, and it took them a while to finish it, but not because it was difficult or tiring to do.

In fact, Virgil found that the secluded spot they’d found at the school was quite pleasant. They laughed and talked in between each bit of the assignment. Somehow the assignment turned into them talking about which species of duck would be the better baker, and Virgil felt a nice feeling inside. He was having fun, and so was Patton.

Patton seemed to glow, Virgil noticed. A nice and warm glow, that kept Virgil staring for a little.

Virgil went home later than he was used to that day, but he wasn’t quite as exhausted as he expected to be.

Patton became an increasingly bigger part of Virgil’s life, and Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what he thought of it at first.

Patton was… Nice. It became clear as day even if you only had the chance to spend a short amount of time with him. He always seemed to look out for other’s needs and boundaries, and Virgil really appreciated that. He felt less and less guilty about taking a step back when he needed to, the more time they spent together.

Patton always smiled, and Virgil liked his smiles he decided. Except on some days, when they seemed a little less real. A little less genuine. On those days, Virgil had an urge to ask what was going on, but he never quite had the courage to do so.

Patton was smart too, even if he didn’t always seem to think so himself. He knew a lot about a lot of things, and gave Janus a headache in philosophy class, which was really funny to hear about.

One day, Virgil got a text he hadn’t expected to get at all. It was a simple text. A request that Virgil should possibly have expected.

Do you wanna hang out this weekend? <3 It’s okay if you don’t, no pressure!

Virgil stared at the text for a few moments, all sorts of thoughts darting through his head and tangling themselves up in each other, and Virgil couldn’t quite get a grip on why Patton would ask him that.

Because he wanted to hang out with Virgil, was the logical response of course.

So why did his mind insist on giving him a million other ideas why?

What if Patton wanted to hang out with him out of pity? Because Virgil was all alone.

What if Patton planned on playing a prank on Virgil or something? Because Virgil was a loser and a loner and an easy target.

What if Patton wanted to murder him?

Okay maybe that last one was a bit too aggressive.

Virgil took a deep breath, trying to collect as much logic as his mind allowed him to gather, and replied. He had to delete the final piece of punctuation a couple of times, as he didn’t want it to be interpreted in the wrong way. Not too desperate, but not too bored either.

Sure thing!

And so they did.

Virgil was welcomed into Patton’s home with open arms, Patton’s mums greeting him with kind words and smiles.

Most of the visit was spent in Patton’s room, which was somehow everything Virgil expected it to be, yet not quite.

The room wasn’t too big. The bed took up a fourth of the room. The bed was a nice and calming blue color, which Virgil for some reason already associated with Patton. A nice and peaceful color, that felt welcoming, and the perfect combination of cold and warm.

The walls were plastered with posters and pictures, some looking slightly torn. Most of them depicted cute puppies or other animals that suited Patton quite well. Virgil’s favorite was that of a tapir, that hung in the top right corner. There was something kindhearted about it.

There was some old wallpaper, hanging on the walls. The edges were a bit tainted, and there were a few cat paw prints on it.

“Do you like cats?” Virgil had asked.

“Oh yeah! I love them!” Patton exclaimed excitedly, “I’m allergic though.” he added. Virgil snorted at it.

They sat on Patton’s bed for hours. They started out by watching a movie on the old tv, that Virgil suspected used to be in the living room of the house. They watched a couple of episodes of Avatar the last airbender too, which Patton fortunately had on dvd. Virgil hadn’t watched it before, and Patton, while looking nervous about it at first, thought that was a crime.

Virgil enjoyed sitting next to Patton as they watched, because Patton’s reactions to everything happening were always quite clear and emotional, and Virgil couldn’t help but join in on the vivid expressions at times.

Virgil stayed there until the evening, and their conversation had become more and more serious throughout the night. Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation like that with someone. A genuine one.

“What was your old school like?” Virgil had asked. He wasn’t sure why Patton didn’t attend it anymore, because as far as Virgil knew, he lived a bit closer to that. Virgil didn’t think prying was needed though. Virgil understood keeping things to oneself.

“I wasn’t really… I wasn’t really happy at my old school.” Patton confessed. He didn’t look at Virgil as he spoke, “I felt sort of out of place.”

“How?” Virgil asked, hoping that came out the way he wanted it to.

“People… Didn’t really like me much…” Patton said quietly, “They talked behind people’s backs a lot, and sometimes you overheard what they were saying it wasn’t…” he clenched his fist, looking down, “It wasn’t very nice.”

For the first time in a while, Virgil sort of wanted to reach out for Patton, to place a comforting arm on his shoulder or something like that. Of course, a much more apparent instinct kept him from doing that, keeping his potentially treacherous arms at bay with a million uncomfortable what-ifs. “They were missing out.” was all Virgil said. ‘

Patton smiled a little at that. “Thanks kiddo.”

Despite himself Virgil couldn’t keep a sudden laugh away. “What the hell did you just call me.” he placed his hand in front of his mouth, “Sorry that sounded rude, it wasn’t bad or anything.”

Patton chuckled back. “I don’t know, it seemed fitting I suppose.”

Patton was about to gently punch Virgil, but Virgil instinctively pulled away. Patton looked surprised for about a millisecond before his smile was back to normal again.

“It’s nothing personal.” Virgil said suddenly, “That I don’t like being touched that is.”

“Oh, no I figured.” Patton said, smiling, “There’s nothing wrong with not liking that.”

Virgil’s mouth gaped slightly at those words. Virgil knew that of course, that nothing was wrong with it, but it felt different to hear someone say that. “Thank you.” he said, a little quieter than he would’ve liked to. “Maybe… Maybe I’m just scared of finding a soulmate. Or maybe it’s something else, I don’t know.”

“You don’t need an excuse or anything.” Patton said, tilting his head and giving Virgil a certain caring and attentive look, that only Patton seemed to be able to give. He took a deep breath. “Why are you scared of finding a soulmate?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know.” Virgil said, “I don’t want… I don’t like big changes I guess.”

Patton nodded, “I get that, I think. Not wanting things to change.” he looked distant for a moment, and then he looked into Virgil’s eyes, “But I think if you found a soulmate it would be different. A soulmate would understand you, and if you didn’t want any changes I am sure they’d understand that too.”

Virgil took a deep breath nodding, looking down at the floor for a moment, “I… I just don’t know… I don’t want to want things to change, but what if I do? What if things are never the same again.”

Patton chuckled slightly at that, but it was the sympathetic kind of chuckle, that didn’t make Virgil feel singled out or uncomfortable. “Well darn, I don’t know.” Patton said, “I don’t know that much, but I think a soulmate feels simpler than that. I hope so anyway.”

“Have you found a soulmate?” Virgil hesitantly asked, but he wasn’t sure why.

Patton shook his head. “No.”

“Huh.” Virgil said. he wasn’t sure what he expected, but Patton liked to hug people and give them encouraging little Patton pats, so it seemed sort of strange to Virgil that no mark had appeared. “Guess we’re both free for the time being.”

Patton giggled. “You’re the first one who has ever described me not having a mark yet that way. Usually people just look like they feel bad.”

Virgil exhaled suddenly at that. “Oh fuck, I know that feeling.”

“Language.” Patton said, jokingly.

Virgil rolled his eyes, though the smile didn’t leave his face.

Virgil went home that night feeling… Something. He wasn’t sure what, but it was pleasant. Understood maybe. he felt understood.

Soon, Patton and Virgil were hanging out frequently. It was the first time Virgil had ever allowed this much free time to be taken up by someone else.

“He cares about you.” Janus said one day at lunch. Virgil still hung out with Janus and Remus at lunch every once in a while. His other group didn’t always meet up, and he didn’t wanna lose Janus and Remus, even if they insisted it was alright. “He thinks about you a lot.”

“How do you know that?” Virgil asked confusedly.

“He wouldn’t make this much time for you if he didn’t.” Janus said, calmly. “And he matters to you too, I can tell.” he smirked. “I haven’t seen you this happy before.”

Virgil realized that he was blushing. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with him.” he said, despite himself, “I mean it’s stupid anyway.”

“Is it romantic or platonic I wonder?” Janus said, as if he was talking to himself.

Virgil had asked himself that question many times, and he wasn’t sure what the answer was. Patton was amazing, but Virgil wasn’t sure if it was in the romantic sort of way. “I don’t know.” he said quickly, quietly.

Janus hummed. “Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. Either can be equally meaningful.”

“Yeah…” Virgil said, biting the inside of his cheek, “Yeah I guess you’re right.”

Virgil wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret any of this. Maybe he was desperate for a friend, maybe something else was at play, but regardless he found himself enjoying Patton’s friendship more and more. It made him happy to think about Patton, and whenever Patton messaged him, he couldn’t help but drop everything he was doing to see what Patton was saying to him.

It kept going. The two of them kept talking, kept hanging out on weekends, stayed at school for longer than they needed to, and that was definitely new. Virgil didn’t usually do that. It stayed like that for months, them talking as if nothing else mattered.

One day though, a particular event that Virgil would never forget snuck into their day. The two of them were standing right outside school grounds, and Patton had asked Virgil if he could show him something.

Patton looked at Virgil with a somewhat excited and somewhat nervous expression. “I uhm… I made you something!” he said, his typical bubbly energy shining through.

Virgil felt something inside him twirling. “Really? What is it?”

Patton reached into his schoolbag, taking out something that was wrapped in pastel purple paper. Virgil wasn’t sure what to expect. Patton carefully reached out and let Virgil take the object himself (to make sure there was no unwanted physical contact involved, Virgil noted) and Virgil accepted the object accordingly. He removed the paper carefully, revealing a little bracelet.

The bracelet was obviously homemade with purple and light blue string wrapped around one another as the thread, and a stormcloud bead attached to one side of it, and the rest having various other beads, in different shapes but very similar colors. Virgil turned it around in his hand for a little to get a proper look at it, his mouth gaping as he did so. It looked nice. Personal. “What-”

“It’s a uhm… It’s a friendship bracelet!” Patton said, taking out a similar bracelet from his bag. The thread was the same combination of blue and purple as Virgil’s though the bead was a heart, and the rest of the beads similar shades of light blue. It was quite nice to the touch.

And what the bracelets meant made Virgil feel nice and happy inside in a way he didn’t quite remember feeling before. Except when he was around Patton, he realized. Nice, happy, content, and with Patton being an almost constant thought in his mind.

What did that mean?

“This is so co- I mean I… I like it or… Or whatever. It’s cool.” he tried his best not to sound like a fool as he spoke, but Patton looked incredibly happy even at the hesitantly positive words.

Virgil looked from Patton’s bracelet to his own. It was too small to slip on, so he started fiddling with the clasp. “Uhm…” Shit shit, he was already messing this up.

“Oh! Here let me help.” Patton took a step closer and hesitated before he touched the bracelet. “If you don’t mind of course.”

Virgil inhaled sharply. He shook his head. “No no, no problem.”

Virgil could’ve ended up regretting that decision. Patton took the bracelet, carefully opening it, and almost absentmindedly he was about to gently put it around Virgil’s wrist.

He did it carefully, to avoid touching Virgil, and that was nice and considerate of him, but for a brief moment, Virgil almost wanted Patton to touch him anyway. Patton’s breath felt warm, as he was nice and close, and Virgil felt something fluttering inside him. He stood there for a moment, looking into Patton’s eyes to make sure it was okay.

And then Virgil did something he didn’t remember ever doing on his own accord before.

He pulled Patton into an embrace.

It was quick and sudden, desperate perhaps. Like lightning searching for a place to strike. A comforting and familiar place. His hand grazed the side of Patton’s arm, as he pulled him closer.

Virgil felt warm and safe, but some sort of adrenaline was still pumping through him. He quickly pulled back. “Sorry, I…” he looked at his hands.

And his world was suddenly shattered into a million shiny and colorful pieces.

The part of his hand that had grazed Patton’s arm had become a beautiful and familiar light blue and Virgil froze on the spot.

It didn’t take long for Patton to catch on too. In a millisecond, his expression had turned from unfiltered happiness to something cautious. Shocked. His mouth was gaping.

Virgil started breathing faster, but he wasn’t running, as he expected he would whenever this happened.

Virgil glanced at Patton’s arm, noticing a purple mark, matching Virgil’s own. Virgil studied both the marks carefully, taking in the shape.

Forever.

Virgil’s heart was beating rapidly, and he made eye contact with Patton.

“I…” Patton tried, still looking unsure what to say, “It’s… It’s gonna be okay.”

Virgil’s mind was racing. Going through a million what-if scenarios each second, way too quickly for him to fully experience anything. Scenes were flashing before his eyes. Him and Patton together. Sweet sunshine Patton, asking with an awkward and sad look in his eyes, if Virgil would just leave and never seek out Patton again. Virgil running and never returning on his own accord, leaving Patton alone and sad and confused.

Him and Patton together, holding hands and laughing. Joking around just as they had before.

Virgil’s breathing had become loud and fast, and Patton was standing a bit away, hesitant to step closer, as he always had.

Virgil didn’t know what he wanted.

Virgil never knew anything.

“V-Virgil I…” Patton tried, swallowing something, “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t wanna. Things don’t have to change if you don’t want them to.”

What did Patton even think of this? Why was Patton’s first instinct always to calm Virgil down? Why couldn’t Patton just express a desire, so that Virgil could react to that? Virgil didn’t wanna decide anything. Didn’t wanna say anything. Didn’t wanna do anything. He was frozen in place. Half of him was seeking out the warmth of the hug he’d initiated just a minute prior, longing to get close once again and hugging Patton tighter than ever before.

The other half wanted to run. Run away as fast as possible and avoid facing the inevitable.

Inevitable was such a dreadful word.

Virgil looked at Patton, who had such sympathetic and beautiful brown eyes. Virgil felt something fluttering inside him.

He didn’t want to lose Patton.

And maybe it was a good sign, that something inevitable was something Virgil didn’t want to lose.

Virgil didn’t like fate. He never did. He hated that something was beyond his control.

Yet, Virgil’s relationship with Patton hadn’t been entirely out of his control, had it?

Virgil kept staring at Patton, because he couldn’t get his body to do anything else.

“You’re my soulmate.” Virgil suddenly said, his voice quiet and somewhat choked, as if the words that came out were forced and not quite his own, “We’re soulmates.”

Patton looked a little relieved to hear Virgil saying something, though the clear concern on his face didn’t disappear. “We are,” he said, shakily. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Virgil exhaled, in something that resembled a chuckle or a sob. “Why the fuck are you sorry?”

Patton looked a little caught off guard. “I… I don’t know.”

Virgil’s heart was still beating at a rapid pace, and he couldn’t quite place why.

Run. Run. Patton. Patton. Run. Patton.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm his breathing, but he couldn’t quite get a grip on it. He shook his head, and jumped forward.

He wrapped his arms around Patton, because Patton felt like the only link between Virgil and breathing in a stable way. Patton felt familiar. Patton felt like home. Like love. It was comforting, when Virgil was in an embrace like that, and it only took a few moments of shock before Patton reciprocated.

They didn’t say anything for a while, simply holding each other tightly, as if it was the only way to keep the world at bay. The only way to keep the terrifying what-if scenarios and the fears Virgil had spent his entire life building up, at bay.

Patton rubbed circles on Virgil’s back, and Virgil allowed himself to melt into the embrace. Virgil’s heart didn’t quite calm down, but his breathing did.

Virgil was the one who ended the embrace once again, pulling back to look at Patton’s face. Reality settling in. Patton was looking at him, his cheeks having gained a warmer glow. “Are you… Are you okay?”

Virgil’s breath was shaky. “I don’t… I don’t know.” he said, “I’m fucking terrified.”

“It’s… It’s some news for sure, huh.” Patton said, “We’re… We’re soulmates!”

“We are.” Virgil said quietly, “That’s… That’s new.”

“Things don’t… Things don’t have to change, you know.” Patton said, “We’re soulmates, but we’re around each other anyway.”

Virgil chuckled dryly. “I don’t know what I want.” he said.

“That’s okay!” Patton said, looking at the top of Virgil’s head, “We can figure it out. It’s gonna be okay. Can I… May I touch your hair.”

Virgil burst out laughing. “What?”

Patton blushed. “I’m sorry, that came out weird, it's just… It looks really nice and I always wanted to know what it felt like, and…”

Virgil couldn’t stop the smile creeping up on him. “Sure.” he said.

Patton gave a relieved sigh, and reached out to ruffle Virgil’s hair. His eyes lit up. “It’s so soft!” he said, “It’s even nicer than I expected.”

Virgil snorted, feeling something resembling a blush on his face, which was strange and out of character of him, in his opinion. “Thanks.” he mumbled quickly.

“I’m… I’m surprised, but also not surprised? That you’re my soulmate.” Patton said quietly, as if he was talking to himself.

Virgil breathed, “What… What do you mean?”

Patton giggled breathlessly. Awkwardly. “It’s… I don’t know. I just, really love spending time with you. You make everything feel so much more vivid and interesting. I love your little jokes and your smile… I don’t know how to explain it. It just… It feels like there’s a connection.”

Virgil didn’t really know what to say to that.

Because Patton enjoyed spending time with him and that seemed so strange and far-fetched that he always had to reevaluate the thought in his head a hundred times over and over, whenever it dared to sneak by. It filled Virgil with a bunch of strange and happy feelings, and he wasn’t sure what to do with any of them. Virgil liked Patton. Virgil cared about Patton. Virgil wouldn’t mind spending every single day with Patton, and that thought terrified him, because that was dangerously close to having a meaningful connection.

And they were soulmates, so maybe there was no backing out of the emotional vulnerability, Virgil had somehow digged himself into.

“I like you too, Pat…” Virgil said, his voice sounding slightly choked and strange, because all the words seemed to hesitate to come out. “You… You suck way less than most people.”

Patton smiled and laughed. That nice laugh he had, that made Virgil feel at home, because Virgil had gotten attached. “Don’t be so harsh on people, Virge. They surprise you sometimes. You can’t say they’re inherently bad.”

Virgil huffed, and smiled back hesitantly. “Don’t get all philosophical on me Pat.”

Patton looked at his arm once again, at the little mark Virgil had left, because they were soulmates. And Patton smiled. “I’m happy it was you.” he said somewhat quietly, as if he was afraid the words would be counterproductive.

Virgil glanced at the palm of his hand. It was surreal to look at the blue color on there, because it was so small, but it meant so much. It was supposed to mean so much.

And Virgil didn’t know what he wanted it to mean.

Patton knew that. Patton understood that. That was more than Virgil ever thought he’d get, and it made him feel… Content.

Well, content was a strong word, but he almost felt as if it applied. At least for a few fleeting moments, and perhaps it would for many more.

“I’m… I’m glad it was you too.” he whispered, a little surprised at his own words.

Patton looked Virgil in the eyes, looking for a sign of something perhaps. A way to interpret Virgil’s words.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Do you want anything to change?” he asked, “It’s alright if you do. I wanna know what you want.” he closed his eyes and swallowed, “Please.”

Patton hesitated. He bit his lip. “I… I’m not sure if I know either, honestly.” he said, crossing his arms slightly, rubbing the side of one with his other, “I just wanna be with you I guess. Somehow. I don’t think I need anything sudden, I just wanna be around you. See how it goes, and let things change if they do.”

Virgil exhaled, something that resembled relief. “Yeah.” he said, letting an awkward smile appear on his face, “Yeah that sounds nice.”

Virgil didn’t like change. He hated when things were inevitable, and he couldn’t stand things being out of his control.

But he liked Patton. He loved when Patton smiled and laughed, and he enjoyed how Patton listened and respected Virgil’s thoughts and boundaries. He loved being there for Patton when he needed it, and he loved how it never felt like an exchange, but rather just giving. Both of them giving, because they wanted to give.

And Virgil was still scared. Terrified. But he found that maybe he could take it, as long as Patton stayed by his side.

No, Virgil didn’t like the idea of soulmates.

But Virgil wanted Patton. He wanted Patton to be a part of his life, and maybe, it seemed, Patton wanted to be a part of his too.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #moxiety #qpr moxiety #platonic moxiety #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #dramaticwriting

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havertzgalaxy · 4 years ago

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Deep Orange - Kai Havertz fanfiction (Chapter One)

A/N: First part of a series I hope to continue. Title is still uncertain for me so this is kind of a place holder. This is a little bit of a dark tale, but I love the idea of Kai in a darker role. If you enjoyed it please give it a like or anything so I know to keep writing! I have a lot more to say about this story :)

Warnings: Alcohol, drug use, swearing, sexual references

Summary: Kai Havertz, a rising star in the football world, has just moved to London and he's off to a rocky start. After agreeing to go to a party with one of his old friends from high school, he meets Katrin Hummels, a mysterious, German musician who has lived in the UK for over a decade. Katrin flirts with Kai at this party, and he reveals that he is in a committed relationship. Nevertheless, Kai is heavily intrigued by her and the two quickly become friends. As Kai balances his career and his relationship, Katrin invites him out constantly to parties and clubs, which distract him from his important life goals. Soon, Kai finds himself on a downwards, drunken spiral of addiction and on a collision course with Katrin.

Available here on Tumblr, but here is the link for the fic on wattpad incase anyone prefers to read stories there: https://www.wattpad.com/1094322435-deep-orange-chapter-one

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Chapter 1

Let me start with the night I first met Katrin. Now, it seems odd to even think about a time before Katrin had a poisonous grip on my life, and there really isn’t anything in my life worth reciting before her. It was a quiet week in between matches in the Premier League and I had off for seven days, which was rare. I was invited to an evening out with a friend from high school who was studying in London at the time. Hesitantly, I accepted, but made it clear to myself that this was not a friend I would like to hang out with regularly. I mostly accepted to please my mother who had been pressing me to find friends from my previous life so I would eventually return home. So I called up my mother and told her I was finally meeting Leo Sauer. The most German German I had ever known moved to London. And I was meeting with him.

I had never thought of Leo as a wild card. He pretty much stuck to the rules. A good German boy got good grades and excelled in athletics, but this German boy had blossomed out of the rulebook. Suddenly Leo was a stoner philosophy student with connections to an underground intelligentsia-creative scene, a world woefully unfamiliar to myself. I have had so few nights out in my life, due to the demands of my rigorous football schedule, but I always accepted that absence in my life as a necessary sacrifice. It was not something I ever thought I would miss as I aged, especially if I had a World Cup in my hands. But my first memories of regret started as I took a cab out to the party. I noticed the way the signs on the businesses had a fading and mesmerizing glow, like there was a specific quality of the night that was turning everything neon forever. The air was orange, then it turned red. I thought to myself how odd it felt to go out to a place where I was specifically going to socialize.

And these feelings worsened when I arrived at the party. I was way out of my element. I began contemplating my own death as I walked through the doorway at a frustratingly overpriced two story flat in South London. I wondered what such an eccentric party was doing in a rather lame neighborhood, and why it was heavily decorated with memorabilia from India. As I turned each corner I passed another Ganesh, another Vishnu, Brama, until I was greeted with an overwhelming scent of incense and marijuana. The house was very dimly lit and seemed to be decorated in a frantic rush for a party, with multicolored christmas lights sufficing as lighting in long and dark stretches of the house. In one corner there was a red lamp without a lamp shade that provided an intense source of light that you couldn’t look at for two long. The entire house was pulsating to a dull bass line that rather confused me and as I breathed in the display of punk, artistic, and heavily braided London set, I quickly scanned the room for Leo and immediately joined forces with him, promising to myself that I would not to leave his side for the rest of the night.

“King Kai!” Leo gasped. He reached out his hand and pulled me in for a hug. “I didn’t think you’d make it, man!”

I switched to German, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable for the moment in English. “Leo, bro, you look great.” I shuddered at my own words, did I usually sound this stupid? I never have this lack of confidence, what was going on with me?

“Jasmine, this is my friend Kai.” Leo turned to a beautiful girl sitting beside him. She had her hair fixed behind a vintage bandana and wore large and thick gold hoop earrings. “Kai, this is Jasmine. Her parents usually live with her, but she’s had a free house since last Tuesday. She studies philosophy as well with me at UCL.”

“Nice one! I’m Kai,” I extended my hand to her, suddenly overly aware of my accent.

“So great to meet you, Kai. Leo’s been mentioning how he has another friend in London. What are you doing here?” Jasmine revealed a thick London accent, or what I presumed to be one.

I was puzzled as to why she did not know what I was doing in London, but I responded quickly, “I play with Chelsea Football Club. Sort of recently moved to London, it’s been about three weeks so far.”

“You’re fucking with me!” Jasmine threw her head back in laughter.

“No, no. He’s actually totally serious.” Leo replied coldly.

“Oh no way! That’s wicked, man. I don’t think I ever met anyone on my sixth form’s football team, let alone Chelsea. I don’t give a fuck about football, but I hope your team does well now.” Jasmine cackled some more and Leo cracked open a beer quietly. “I actually don’t think you’re gonna meet anyone at this party who cares about football.”

Leo looked around and tensed his face awkwardly.

I smiled and retorted, “I think that’s a good thing!”

Jasmine darted up from her seat to reconnect with a girl who had arrived apparently called “Therese.” And suddenly Leo and I were momentarily alone. After an awkward silence between us Leo pressed me about my life. I asked him about his, and we spoke on and off about our past life back in Germany.

For the next thirty minutes, Leo continued to introduce me to a staggering amount of substance-abusing artists, unemployed twenty-two year olds, or trust-funded humanities students. Thinking quickly, I introduced myself as another philosophy student from Germany. I didn’t want to repeat the same conversation I had with Jasmine again. Although they questioned why I couldn’t have a bump of ket or a hit off a joint. After pretending to be someone I was not, I felt nervous. My palms were sweaty and my shirt felt tight. I wondered whether I actually passed off as someone from this corner of society, or if I looked like an outsider.

“Leo,” I turned to my only friend at this party. “I think I should go before someone takes a picture of this and sends this to my manager. I shouldn’t be at a party with anything illegal.”

“Kai, if someone takes a picture of you at this party and does something like that they’d never be invited to anything ever again.” Leo explained, “This is a very moral group of people. They’ve certainly had more than enough time to think about their values.” Leo responded with a quick joke. “Just let loose. Tonight might be your last night of this kind of freedom.”

So I ran across the street with a mask on in an anonymous pursuit of a Best-One and bought as many beers as I possibly could, deciding to get rip-roaring drunk. Something I had not really experienced properly in my life before that night. I returned to hide my beers in a bookshelf upstairs, downed three beers in a row with Leo, and talked to as many people as possible claiming I was this philosophy student of German philosophers. When they tried to talk to me about philosophy I just bullshitted my way through the conversation and we all laughed together. They were too high, I was too drunk. Nothing mattered. None of us were on the same page anyway. The alcohol hit me like a bullet train and I laughed and laughed at the fact that I was finally wasted. Everything felt like a dream.

In my drunken stupor I could hardly recognize the couch from the floor, although I delicately found the last available place on a couch in the upstairs hallway of the flat. I don’t remember properly reflecting on why there was a couch in a hallway, there just was and I accepted that. Upstairs, the music was slightly softer, and it sounded like it was made years ago and was playing out of an old stereo. Although the upstairs music was struggling to make itself heard over the louder computer-made music coming from downstairs. Deep in my philosophical contemplation over the music, I forgot how my legs and depth perception worked, and I stumbled onto the couch, nearly spilling over my beer onto a girl on my way down.

“Entschuldig-” I began in German, quickly correcting myself and forgetting how to speak English under the influence, “ah, fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Short dark brown hair, a fading tan, big brown eyes with heavy eye makeup, and slightly crooked teeth turned to me at once declaring back in German, “You’re very drunk.” She locked eyes with me deeply. She was direct. Holy shit. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Wow, you speak German as well?” I held her gaze for moments more before feeling something too intense. “I mean,” I stuttered, “I’m Kai. I just moved here a few weeks back.”

“I’m Katrin.” She smiled wide and took a long sip of her drink. “Of course I speak German.”

“Of course you speak German? Not every random stranger speaks German.” I teased, leaning my head back against the wall to stop the room from spinning out of control.

“I’m not every random stranger.” She smacked her lips and leaned back. She had a low, husky voice. A voice that had clearly been weathered by smoking and yelling. Even if her lifestyle choices were made apparent through her voice there was something about this woman that was puzzling me in a wonderful way. She had long intense stares and big brown eyes that powered them. She spoke sharply and lit a joint. I drunkenly inhaled her smoke. “I think I recognize your face. I think you play for Chelsea.”

Something inside me broke. I freaked out that she had some kind of power over me, as if she was threatening to blow my cover. She stared deeply at me as my lips fumbled to create a response. I raised my eyebrows in shock. Slowly I slurred a response. “Do you watch football?”

“Not if I don’t have to.” Katrin laughed, she quickly changed expression and replied. “Sorry, I don’t mean to insult.”

“Nah, I’m not insulted. I think the majority of the world would agree with me that it’s a sport worth watching.” I retorted fast, feeling my breath hot in my throat suddenly. In the other room I could hear some large bouts of laughter and the music changing at irregular intervals. Someone must have been skipping through songs.

“Let’s just say you win that argument then.” She cooed. “But I must tell you...I’m only lying.” She giggled, “I didn’t even know what Chelsea was until my friend, Jasmine, told me about an hour ago that another German was here. She told me that you play football here or something. And then she was like, ‘no one's gonna recognize him here’ and I was like, ‘as I German maybe I will, is he famous?’ So we googled you and we were like what the fuck. This dude is famous as shit.”

“Clearly not that famous.” I gestured around the room to the slew of preoccupied people, but quickly returned my gaze back to Katrin. I was utterly transfixed. Each word out of her mouth weighed heavy on my mind. Was she telling the truth? What was her story? She was a challenging conversation, making me nervous for no reason, “We don’t have to talk about that football shit. We don’t even have to talk in German.” I paused and burped. The room was spinning. I felt myself losing control of my reserve. “Sorry I’m quite drunk.”

“You’re not the only one.” She smiled and lifted up her small bottle of cheap vodka.

“I...I don’t usually drink. I’m not really allowed.”

“Not allowed?” Katrin raised her eyebrows. “Says who?”

“It’s part of my job. I’m not supposed to be rebellious, I’m supposed to be a role model.” I added nervously.

“You’d be a much better role model if you broke some rules.” She poured a large amount of vodka into her cup before mixing it with a little bit of soda. “Fuck, you’d be my role model.”

“You’re a rule breaker? That’s not very German of you.” I took a long swig of my beer after I spoke. She stayed silent so I spoke quickly, “Why are you in London anyway?”

She put her hands in between her face and wiped her hair back, composing herself. “I was forced to move here from Bavaria when I was twelve. My dad got a job in London and the whole family moved except my older brother who seems to get out of everything. Forced to learn English when I was thirteen, forced to go to university, make my parents proud. Then I dropped out. It wasn’t for me. Now I’m what you call a ‘soundcloud musician.’” She explained, “And I’m also what you’d call a lifeguard for a leisure centre near me.”

“That’s a lot to unpack.” I let out a loud laugh.

Katrin did not respond right away to me and this freaked me out. I wondered if I said the wrong thing, maybe I should have responded with some compassion and sympathy. Surely she was looking for a more in depth conversation, something which she might find with the intellectual class around us, I was just merely a guy she struck up conversation with because he almost spilled cold beer all over her. Where did I put the rest of my beers, anyway?

Before my thoughts spiralled off any further, she spoke again. “You have the most unusual face I’ve ever seen.” She touched my cheek with the tips of her fingers and my skin burned. As she moved her fingers across my face, her eyes flared and her pupils dilated. “Like you weren’t born on this planet.”

Her words sent shivers down my whole body and penetrated deep into my soul. Why was she touching me? What did she mean by any of this? Do I look ugly to her? I felt awkward by her comments, so I laughed nervously and asked suddenly, “What kind of music do you make?”

Before she could reply, the song had changed to something I couldn’t quite hear and she shouted out, “You fuckers! Turn this shit off!” She turned to me, grabbed two beer cans in her hands, dangling the joint in between her fingers, and did a dance, “I’m sorry, Kai, I’ve got to go make these idiots turn off my music before everyone with a brain leaves this party... But come to my show on Friday and you can see what kinda music I make.”

“Where is it?”

“Islington Assembly Hall. 7pm.” She leaned over, and I watched her lips grow closer to mine before she stopped, and whispered, “I wish I could stay longer and talk. I haven’t met anyone this captivating to me in a while… You’re a troubled soul and I can sense that. And God do I wanna fuck you.”

Her words had floored me so much I could hardly reply, but I mustered, “Unfortunately I am already spoken for.”

“That’s a shame. I think we were in love in a past life.” She winked, pulled back her intoxicating scent, walked off with a spring in her step before shouting back, “See you Friday!”

As she left I felt time moving more slowly for the first time in my life. I felt a sense of impending doom, while simultaneously feeling an inexplicably intense ecstasy. I knew from the moment I met her, Katrin was a ticking time bomb. For the rest of the night I stayed on the couch in the upstairs hallway at a party in a forgotten corner of London, completely transfixed.

#kai havertz #kai havertz fanfiction #german nt #euro 2020 #euros #chelsea #chelsea fanfiction #fanfiction

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

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364 Days To Go - Director Keller x Reader (Captain Marvel)

Holiday Fic 4! 🎄🎄

GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: This Holiday season belongs to the less popular boys and honestly I’m all here for it! Keller was the last one I came up with and it was just because I put all my Christmas music on shuffle and I was like “whoooo... could I use this for?” And then thought hard on it and came up with a kinda cute Keller scenario. Also he deserves more love!!

Really, by the title alone, this should be the post Christmas fic, but, oh well!

Disclaimer: Captain Marvel Characters Not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / usual stuff, different fic!

Premise: December 25th may almost be over, but you can both still have a little fun...

Words: 1431

Warnings: The setting is Christmas day, although Christmas is not mentioned by name / drinking / if you squint there is the tiniest of sexual references

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Wrapping paper everywhere Stacked up dishes, but who cares They can wait until tomorrow now It's you and me, and this old couch

The Christmas tree in our living room Fills the room with pine perfume And colored lights dancing on the walls While Nat King Cole sings "Deck The Halls"

Thanks for my robe, no that's ok It looks better on you anyway What is it about this time of year That makes our troubles disappear 'Cause don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go

We can't avoid it No way around it Before too long we'll be Either back to work back to school Or just back to reality

Don't you get the sense tonight That for now the world is right And as another Christmas ends My mind drifts and once again I'm thinking like a six year old Only 364 days to go Be here before you know it

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The house was filled with the sound of holiday music. Although, without putting a damper on things, the holiday was almost over. Well, the main part of it anyway. But neither of you were thinking about that. In fact the music was the only sound, as currently you were both nestled on the couch together, your head on Keller’s chest. There was plenty of reason to move, you supposed. Remnants of brightly coloured paper still littered the floor, a stack of dishes by the sink that - if you were really cognizant - you should probably get started on. But, there was always tomorrow… This was the very last day of the year you would ever have had your partner working on. Even if it wasn’t work work.

Besides, you were both currently stuck in a food coma, and snuggled on the couch was the only place to be; drifting in and out of sleep with the heat on high and his arms around you. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken one glance at his pager today. You would understand for any other Agent (heck, you’d hurled yours across the room the second you’d got in last night, where it’d clattered against the wall. And even upon Keller’s insistence, you hadn’t gone to retrieve it yet - and, didn’t see him doing it for you), but not the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D… Keller constantly told you that, for him, there was always something going on. Which meant today should be no exception. He was doing this for you, you knew. But you were glad he was taking respite for once; he deserved it. You knew how important his position was, but Keller always worked so damn hard. You thought it was about time he got some recognition for that - even if it was in the form of a quiet moment on the couch with you. Running your fingers gently through his steel grey hair, Keller didn’t really stir; his grip on you loosened slightly, and that sleepy content hum made you do nothing but smile. You pressed a kiss gently to his forehead and cheek before you stole away from his arms. It was about time to get yourself back in your pyjamas you thought! Hurrying quietly from the room, you halted and turned back to his gifts. A little smirk formed on your face; on second thought… *** By the time you returned to him Keller was awake but still looked a little drowsy; head in his hand, propped up by his elbow on his knee, as he held open a book with his other hand. As you shuffled into the room he looked up and then immediately laughed. “Oh, I see you’re wasting no time stealing my clothes, huh?” To be honest the robe was almost a joke gift, you’d had it embroidered with ‘Director J. R. Keller’ across the left breast and then kidded with him that no one was going to be able to take the J off this. You brought your shoulders up as high as they could go and tucked yourself into it, “It’s very comfy, I gotta say.” Then made a motion to take it off, “Would you like it back?” “No… No…” He waved his free hand, “It looks good on you…” Keller continued to stare at you for a moment before smiling, “Go on, give us a twirl.” “Ah!” You gave him your very best and then posed, “What do you think?” “Yeah.” He almost said it flatly, “Gonna look so much better on you.” Before he placed the book down and opened his arms, “C’mon…”

You eagerly crossed the room, and back into Keller’s welcoming embrace. “I love you so much.” “I got the idea… yeah!” That only made you giggle again as he captured your lips with his own, rubbing his hands over your arms as if to warm you up. “PJs too? Man, I missed the memo…” Keller was still in a nice shirt and pants. A little more relaxed than his usual suit (and sleeves rolled up, as you would have requested; his forearms were something to behold), but no less easy on the eye. “Time to get comfortable.” “Just seems like a typical non-work day for you, then.” You gasped, pretending to get offended and smacked his arm, “Don’t say the ‘W’ word!” “Oh, geez, I should have guessed that was banned too.” “Are you trying to be humorous?” He quirked an eyebrow, amused, and you tried to hold your serious face for all of 3 seconds before you snorted, “Okay. You win this round, Mr. Keller!” He allowed you to steal a series of short kisses, before he settled you back on the couch alone; turning the music up a little, he poured you both a glass of mulled wine. Handing your glass over to you, Keller didn’t sit back down. You wondered if he was attempting to stretch his body out after the confines of the couch. “Hey, don’t get any of this over my robe now.” “Oh my god…” You shook your head at him, “Just tell me if you want me to take it off-!” He smirked through his sip, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You rolled your eyes, and for a minute it went quiet before you studied him a little closer. He wasn’t even really looking at you, more surveying the decor of the house and paying attention to the songs, but Keller still knew what you were doing; “What?” “Just making sure that pager of yours isn’t on you!” He scoffed, “So you can yell at me today of all days of the year?” He took another sip before he placed his glass down and held his hand out for you. You took a bigger gulp of wine than you thought was necessarily, and you watched his face try to remain stoic and not even a little disappointed in you for doing so, before you took the hand he offered and let him pull you off the couch. Keller spun you into his arms and held you close, letting you lay your hand flat against his before you laced your fingers together, and he swayed you gently to the music. “Oh? You want to dance with me when I’m not even dressed appropriately?” “I’ll forgive it.” He chuckled, but then took a more serious breath, “You know that I don’t care, right?” “I’m just teasing you-!” Although you couldn’t help but blush gently; you knew he would take you any way you wished to present to him. That was just the kind of man that he was. You weren’t sure that anyone in the world deserved him really, but you weren’t about to argue with the look of love on his face today. Instead you’d simply bask in it, honoured that Keller chose to give it to you. You continued to sway slowly to the music as song changed into song, changed into song… and both of you once again surveyed the room, and tried not to think of everything you’d have to do tomorrow. The darkness had drawn in, but there was still something magical about it today, instead of gloomy and depressing. You couldn’t help but grin as you looked back into his soft blue eyes, it might have almost been over, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still have childish excitement about next year. “Only 364 days to go!” Keller gave an encouraged nod of agreement, “And imagine what can happen in that time-!” Only he added a mysterious little wink, causing you to narrow your eyes; “OKAY what is going on at work!?” His look was of pure innocence, “Nothing! Well- No, maybe something, but I can promise I don’t know!” You tilted your head, “To be honest, I’m surprised. Your fingers must be itching to click that little button.” Keller shrugged, “100% honesty? I haven’t really thought about it.” And he really did mean it, although he laughed, “But I’m sure I’ll wake to a million messages tomorrow-!” “Any way I could persuade you to collect another million more?” “Not check tomorrow?” Keller paused your swaying for a second, sucking his breath in between his teeth and pretending to think hard on it, “Just try it…” “Mmm. Think I will.” You winked, before removing your hands from his and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull Keller into a deep kiss.

364 days to go, maybe… But if it was 364 days filled with kisses like this, you wouldn’t mind waiting one bit.

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Thank you for reading! And as my last fic before Christmas, Happy Holidays!!! 🎁🎅🎄

#Director Keller #Keller #Director Keller x Reader #Keller x Reader #Agent!Reader #Agent!Reader series #Captain Marvel #Ben Mendelsohn #204 #Holiday Fic #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Every time I write for Keller and listen to his playlist I JUST wanna write for my space girl!#But can't do it! Just can't do it-!#In the words of Payne /I've tried... I have tried!/#If I could draw #that would be helpful because I'd love to /DRAW/ them together.#Anyways...#Look /the last of the real ones/ by Fall Out Boy for Keller/Maliyah though. HOLY. SHIT.

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wickedobsessed101 · 4 years ago

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Fanfic Writer Asks

[SOURCE: criminal-minds-fanfiction: Most of the writer ask posts I come across are only like ten or so questions long so I thought I’d try to make a longer one because we like talking about our writing! Feel free to reblog!]

I’m answering all of these b/c I love Q & A’s about my writing, both for my fics and other things.

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction? It was 2013, so I was 14 years old. I’m now almost 23.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one? I’m mostly in the Wicked Musical fandom, but I like to read for other fandoms, like Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Chronicles of Narnia, ect.

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer. OCs, but I’m more than willing to create an OC for someone based on characteristics they give me.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for? I love me some fluffy romance and hurt/comfort, but I also love some angsty drama.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi-chaptered stories, which would it be and why? OMG, don’t make me choose! They’re all my babies! I love all my children equally! They all hold special places in my heart.

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why? Goodness, most of my stories prior to 2017, because I was in high school and had no idea what I was doing because I was just getting my feet wet with writing.

7) When is your preferred time to write? Anytime really. The latest I’ve stayed up writing a fic was 4AM. *Glares at ‘Threads of Truth’*

8) Where do you take your inspiration from? Where ever it happens to come up. I’m not picky. Movies, music, people I’ve seen on the street, random thoughts that enter my head, anything.

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote? In ‘Threads of Truth’, it’s a tie between Villy’s first date, and an argument that happens in an upcoming chapter. And that’s all I’m saying about that.

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind? In ‘Play The Game’, I liked the epilogue ending that I gave Elphaba with her family, even without Fiyero. I like writing her with kids. Another ending would be with the Fiyeraba still together, but I’m satisfied with the ending it has.

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it? I’ll go back and fix typos that are pointed out, but I don’t change plot stuff. Like, I wrote what I wrote and I will amend my technique in future stories.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why? Other than my OCs, because I get to fully create them and my lowkey babies, I’d have to say G(a)linda. She has so much potential and she’s so much fun.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why? Boq. Not because I hate him (I don’t!), but because I don’t normally know what to do with him. If he’s not with Nessa, he’s literally just standing there like a brick wall. No offence, Boq!

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories. [Ask me about a specific story(ies)]

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names? I usually change consonants and vowels to already existing names, or add unnecessary letters because... reasons.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx? [Ask me about a specific story]

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on. “Hopefully, this will soak up any more leaks.” (Upcoming Wicked fanfic)

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them? Yes, 2. Both of them are a few years old and I’ve grown as a writer since then. Maybe one day, I’ll edit them and repost, but not anytime soon.

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to? Not everything can have a sequel, y’all! XD

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently? Yes! Around 60% of them.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire? @vinkunwildflowerqueen @raven-curls @mylittleelphie @weaselspeedfanfic Ultimate Queen of Cliffies

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it? This goes back to Question #6; most of what I posted prior to 2017.

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence? Silence. I need to focus.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes? I can’t write it. They’ll make out, and then be pregnant in the next chapter. Y’all can do the math for yourselves.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story? YES! Yes, I have! Both sad tears and tears of joy. I’ve also cringed from second-hand embarrassment at the things the characters do and say. I’m not in control of their actions all the time. Sometimes they tell me what they’re gonna do, and I’m like, “Well, alright, then.”

26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write? [Ask me about a specific story]

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow? I write bullet points of things I want to happen in a chapter on the Word Doc, or in the story as a whole, and I try to keep those bullet points in order. And the Notes App on my phone holds a lot of my ideas, and sometimes full scenes.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction? That I’d become obsessed with writing and continue doing it for almost ten years, as well as expanding to writing plays and musicals.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like? Yeah. I’m not gonna say which one, but just know there’s one... or a few.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at? Yes, and I’m still not gonna say which one(s). I want all the love!

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec, not the answerer) Yeah, sure!

32) Are any of your characters based on real people? Yes. Villy Doiir from ‘Threads of Truth’ is based on 4 people I know in real life, all mixed together into one wholesome, mother figure/ mentor. Perhaps that’s why I like writing her so much.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten? All reviews keep me going, no matter the length. But I love it when people review saying that they picked up on little references that were really just for me. It makes me feel like we’ve shared a moment.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten? A guest reviewer once said, “You tend to write Fiyero as an abusive person”. It wasn’t harsh, just... NOT TRUE. Especially for the story they were reviewing.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest? Close to my chest. I’ll share it with the world when I’m ready.

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s? NOPE! You’ll just have to wait and see! LOL!

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written? I... really don’t know. My stories all have their funny moments.

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it. I’m very busy, and collabs aren’t really my thing, but I’m always willing to lend an extra pair of eyes pre-posting.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person? I’ve written one story in the first person and it was fun to get into the character’s head, but I love third person, cause I like knowing what everyone is thinking. Second person makes me feel a certain way and that don’t really like.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction? IRL, no. It’s not something I bring up over dinner. I’ll talk about my plays and musicals, but not fanfiction. I like keeping my fics for the online peeps and my more personal writings for the RL peeps.

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written? My OC, Princess Hannalyn, from ‘A Royal Romance’. She was so much fun!

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx. I haven’t done a song fic.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it? Not fully, but they’ve had little inklings, but certain details were still a surprise. And I’m not mad about it.

44) What is the last line you wrote? “I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other.”

45) What spurs you on during the writing process? When I’ll have one idea, and it spirals into many others, and when the characters write themselves. It makes it so much easier for me. Sometimes they tell me that they’re about to make a bad decision, and I just go along with it. They need to learn and grow somehow.

46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it? [Ask me for a specific story]

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about? [Ask me]

48) What’s your favourite trope to write? I love a good Royalty AU (not fully AU ‘cause of our princey-prince, but still) and Holiday AUs. And I’ve never written a Coffeeshop AU, but I LOVE reading them. I’ll read anything. I’m not picky, and I love to see what ideas others have.

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about? Yes, and both of them were Gelphies: 1 - “Easier Said Than Done” by mecelphie - It’s part of a long, wonderful series of Elphaba and Glinda together at Shiz and how their lives evolve together and has many lovable OCs. 2 - “The Thropp Diaries” by denpa wave chick saki - It’s first-person Elphaba POV of the book. It expands on lots of mentioned moments and we get to journey through Elphaba’s thoughts.

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? I’d have to say fluff, so I can get my escape from reality. But it’s hard to write pure fluff without a little bit of conflict.

If you wanna read my stories, they’re all right here: Fae’sFlower

#wicked the musical #wicked #wicked fanfiction #fiyeraba fanfic #faesflower #Q & A #Fiyeraba #gelphie #Elphaba #Fiyero #Glinda #Galinda #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction.net #let me tell you about my writing and my stories #writer #Q & A with Nia

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charmedseoull · 4 years ago

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Interview with sugamins about her work House of Cards (Ao3′s second most hit English work and most hit BTS work)

Before You Read the Interview

Archive of Our Own Transcript

Reddit Transcript Part 1 / Part 2

House of Cards is documented within the Top 50 Most Hit BTS Works on Archive of Our Own Project, otherwise known as T50BTS, by Charmedseoul. It is the second most hit English work on the Archive of Our Own platform, most hit BTS work, and 16th most hit work overall. It centers around the internationally popular K-Pop idol group BTS (Bangtan Sonyeondan) with the main characters being Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook. This work is being documented for historical purposes for the Fanlore website with its own page. Charmedseoul is a BTS-focused anonymous historian who plans to eventually document each of the top 50 most hit BTS work on Ao3 as in depth as this one. If you are in contact with any of the authors of these works, please contact her on Twitter @charmedseoul or on Tumblr @charmedseoull.

Parts of this interview have been edited with links to Fanlore and Wikipedia pages for understanding. Any information in [brackets] serves for further clarity for readers and elaboration of information.

Disclaimers: This interview contains spoilers for the BTS Archive of Our Own work House of Cards. The story’s Archive of Our Own tags contain violence and gangster activity, along with discussion of prostitution and drug use. The full tag list is:

Alternate Universe - Gangsters

Gang Violence

Violence

Drugs

Drug Use

Explicit Sexual Content

Explicit Language

Blood and Gore

Blood and Torture

Gambling

Gunplay

Undercover

Disturbing Themes

Homophobic Language

Attempted Rape/Non-Con

Xenophobia

Dom/sub

Threesome - M/M/M

Drug Addiction

Dubious Consent

This interview discusses an 18+ mature work and Not Safe for Work topics. Please read this interview at your own discretion. You are responsible for the content you consume.

House of Cards by sugamins is a multi-chapter Archive of Our Own fanfiction that follows police officer Kim Taehyung’s undercover operation into the gangster world of Haedogje Pa. Jeon Jungkook, shrouded in an air of mystery and dubbed “The Boy,” is the heir to this crime empire. Park Jimin lives with him, acting as a lover of sorts in a high, pristine penthouse apartment. The story follows the three and their complicated relationship where sex, violence, and drugs surround them. Kim Taehyung tries to take down the empire as his moral lines of black and white begin blurring into gray. In this crime-ridden alternate reality to Seoul, everything from the structure of the gangster world to the trust between three lovers is as fragile as a house of cards.

Now presenting the interview with sugamins, author of Archive of Our Own’s second most hit English work and most hit BTS work, House of Cards:

How did you start writing?

How did you get into fanfiction?

How much writing experience did you have prior to House of Cards?

Do you have any literary or artistic inspirations? Any other authors or works that have inspired you to create anytime before or after House of Cards?

How did you become an ARMY [ARMY stands for Adorable Representative MC for the Youth. It is the fandom name for fans of BTS, otherwise known as Bangtan Sonyeondan]?

I started writing fanfiction in 2012. But before then, I used to enjoy writing stories as a child and young teenager. I used to write and illustrate my own stories. I even had a sketchbook filled with my own comic book, which was terrible! But I've always been creative. It started with art and then I moved onto writing when I discovered I was able to be much more creative with my words rather than my pencil.

I first got into fanfiction through my years spent on Tumblr. I had always known that it had existed, but I had never really gone looking for it because I hadn't belonged to a fandom at that point in my life. It was back in 2012 when I stumbled upon an EXO fanfic that a lot of people were talking about (Arbitrage, you can find it on Livejournal.) I read it and then thought...wow, so this is fanfiction! From that point, I started reading more and more, mostly Infinite fanfiction. And then I decided to start writing with the encouragement of an old online friend, and here I am!

In terms of writing experience, I have never formally received education. I stopped studying English Language and Literature when I was 16, instead focusing on Art, History, and Religious Education (purely because I wanted to learn about philosophy and quantum mechanics) for my final two years at high-school. The only experience I have is through writing fanfiction. I started back in 2012, and I've developed a lot since then. I started off small, writing horror short stories and little collections. Brotherhood was the first 'long fic' I created. I was shocked that it managed to get so big because I had never created a story of that size before. Writing helped me gain experience and figure out what worked and what didn't work, what I was good at writing, and where I was lacking and needed to learn. I don't think you can really experience an art form until you start doing it. You can learn all about the techniques and the conventions, but until you pick up a pen and start writing or drawing, you won't ever know what it means to create.

My literary inspiration has always been Stephen King. Which is funny, as he has described himself as 'having diarrhea of the typewriter.' I think that applies to me sometimes. I am a bit of a wordy writer, though I've started honing it down for certain stories. Sometimes, a story needs to be floral and descriptive, sometimes, it needs to be punchy and direct. So, King was my major inspiration, especially with horror. I also enjoy the works of Poe and Lovecraft (I acknowledge the problematic themes in the work of Lovercraft and seek not to praise him as a person. He was a terrible person for sure, but sadly, he had a way with cosmic horror that is hard to find.) I also enjoy Chuck Palahniuk and the dark, seedy and overall zany stories that he has created. I like his style a lot!

In terms of inspirations for House of Cards, I was obviously inspired by the films Infernal Affairs/The Departed. American Gangster and Training Day were also major inspirations (and also because I love Denzel Washington's performances in both films. I mean, who doesn't love him?) But I also drew inspiration from other sources that were less focused on gangs, more focused on the dark, nihilistic state of the world around us. I couldn't recommend the TV series True Detective hard enough. It is one of the best series I have ever watched. It handles dark and disturbing content so well, and its fractured, unreliable story-telling and philosophical musing is some of the best I've ever seen on screen. I highly recommend checking it out, but be sure to check the content warning and triggers because it certainly isn't suitable for younger audiences and those with triggers. In terms of real-life content, I think Ross Kemps' docu-series are very good. Particularly Extreme World and On Gangs. His docu-series show the dark and disturbing side of criminal activity, the drug trade and more.

I became a fan of BTS [Bangtan Sonyeondan] back in 2013. I had already been a fan of K-Pop for some time by then, as I had started listening to various K-Pop and K-Rock artists back in 2009. I knew of their debut, but I had seen hundreds of new acts debut by the time that they broke into the scene, and so I didn't pay much heed. Someone I followed on Tumblr at the time kept posting about how much she loved them, especially Taehyung [BTS V/Kim Taehyung]. One day, I stumbled upon a gifset of Yoongi [BTS Suga/Min Yoongi] being sarcastic in one of their first interviews. I thought he was funny, so I decided to check them out. At the time, they had recently released We Are Bulletproof Pt. 2 [BTS’s second music video release with their debut album 2 Kool 4 Skool]. I followed them from that point, and their first comeback [A “comeback” refers to when a K-Pop idol group releases new music, usually done twice a year.] was also my first comeback. I liked their music [BTS released Boy In Luv and Just One Day in 2014, both music videos of songs from their Skool Luv Affair EP.], but I liked them even more as individuals. I loved watching their shows [Here is a link to BTS’s schedule during 2014 when they had their first comeback. You can find the shows and interviews they were on there.], even though they are incredibly embarrassing to look back on now. They just had so much energy and looked to be having so much fun that I was having fun just watching them. I was a fan, I liked a lot of their songs and followed their activities. But it wasn't until they released HYYH Part One [Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa Part 1 (Korean) = The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1 (This is the title in English), released with the I Need U and Dope music videos.] that I really became a fan of their music. I had already created a couple of small horror stories for the fandom at that point. HYYH Part One [The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1] inspired me so much that I created Brotherhood, my first 'long fic.' I joined AO3 [Archive of Our Own] and started posting there. I received so much support from fellow fans that I carried on writing, and the rest is history!

How has your experience being an ARMY [Adorable Representative MCs of the Youth, BTS’s global fan base name.] been? Did you ever leave the fandom then come back? How did you interact with others when you first got into the fandom and as you grew up?

How have you been since you wrote House of Cards? What have you been working on?

Are you okay with talking about how old you are now and how old you were when you wrote House of Cards?

Before you even wrote House of Cards, what inspired it? Any TV shows? Music? Movies? Books? Ideas? It could be anything.

How did you start writing House of Cards? Did you finish the entire story then publish it or did you write it as you went? What was the writing process like?

Did you have any beta readers or editors? If you did, are you still in contact with them now? How did they feel about your work?

My experience being a fan has mostly been positive over the years. In the earlier days, back around when I first started writing for the fandom, it was certainly much more positive. I've received so much support over the years, not only in my writing but in my personal life from readers and fellow fans that being a fan of the boys [The members of BTS] really has changed my life. That's not an exaggeration. I doubt I would even be here now without those years having such a positive effect on my mental health. I've never really been the kind to interact with others and form cliques within the fandom, I just like being in my own space and interacting with everyone that comes my way, I guess?

These days, I'm not as active as a writer or in fandom spaces however. I feel like my time in the fandom has started to come up and I don't know how I feel about it just yet. I feel nostalgic for the time when I was first starting out in the fandom and I didn't really know much, but everything was fun. It doesn't feel so fun now, but I mostly contribute that to the effect that Twitter has had on shaping the fandom's growth. Twitter has never been a good place for creatives within fandoms because of issues with algorithms and such. Tumblr was always the better website for hosting artistic content for a variety of reasons. So, I think the fact that everything is on Twitter now has been partly responsible for my decline in engagement and overall enjoyment. I'm currently taking a break from Twitter. The next couple of months will be what makes me either stay or leave the fandom.

Since writing House of Cards, I've been an active writer in the fandom. Over the years, I've added quite a lot of stories to my AO3 accounts and various pseuds. My largest ongoing story is another gang story, set in the 1980s, called Valentino Summers. I actually started writing and publishing it on Ao3 just four or so months after I finished House of Cards—which is wild to think about. Finally finishing House of Cards seems like such a long time ago in my mind, and yet I'm still working on a story I created that same year! I like contributing horror stories to the fandom, especially in the Halloween period. I like publishing series in the month/upcoming weeks before Halloween—though I won't be doing so this year [2020].

When I started writing House of Cards, I would have just turned 22. It was inspired by the song 'Wires' by The Neighbourhood. I might be mistaken, but I believe that Jungkook [BTS Jungkook/Jeon Jungkook] posted a tweet with the song in it. [Jungkook did tweet about this song. Here is the English translation.] I had never heard of the band before, but my partner was a fan of their music. She sent the song to me and I was very interested in the lyrics, so I started discussing them with her. One thing led to the next, and then we had basically come up with the entire plot of the story. We just needed to create the characters. We spent a little while doing so, and then I started doing some research and started writing the story. There really isn't a grand backstory to House of Cards, it just happened so fast. We often come up with story ideas like that, and my partner is responsible for a huge amount of my stories. She has the creative visions, which I then turn into words. We make quite the team, haha~ The inspirations, I mentioned those in my previous answer regarding films and TV shows.

I published the story as I went, though I staggered the updates because I didn't want to post too frequently. I had the entire story planned out from the start——I didn't change a single aspect of the story no matter what I received in terms of feedback. I think a lot of readers assume that writers might tweak things if they sense the audience wants something to happen in terms of plot or relationships. Personally, I don't like doing that. I like sticking to my plans even if I know my vision might not be what the readers want. I think it's important for the story to be created the way I see it because my vision is what made me create it, if that makes sense.

The writing process was surprisingly smooth! You might not think it because the story is big and there are a lot of characters and plot threads to keep on top of, but it went smoothly for me. It flowed just as smoothly from start to finish as Brotherhood did. I never struggled once with writing the chapters, nor did I ever get stuck and wonder if I should change the content in order to make it easier to write. I'm surprised that I managed to complete it so easily because that's not the case with writing now! I tend to be a lot slower now, more deliberate and more open to changes in order to ease the process and the overall flow of the story. In a way, this change has been for the best. I do wonder what House of Cards would be like if I were to write it now, with my different approach to planning and writing. It would probably have a quicker flow, and the word count would either go down as a result of cuts, or go up because of additional scenes I would have likely included.

I didn't have any betas, which you can probably tell from the work. My stories are so big that I never wanted to put the burden of fixing them onto someone else. I know they are imperfect, oftentimes bloated things, but that's just what they are. I did try creating a story with another writer in the past, but it didn't go very well. She would often have conflicting opinions on things and would not have any leeway for anything I suggested, whereas I always had leeway to allow her to change things. Even to the point of completely changing the plot of the story that I had already started writing, and then allowing her to add graphic sexual content she didn't even want to be in the story. She actually stopped writing fanfiction randomly in the middle of us creating the story! She made a post about it being disgusting and nasty and then bowed out. I have no clue if she ever came back! So, my negative experience with attempting to work with someone else when creating a story kind of made me not want to have a beta. It's a wild story, I know!

House of Cards is praised for its realism and accuracy with weaponry, torture, sex, and violence. How did you research these things?

How did you come up with the gangster universe in House of Cards? How did you develop Haedogje Pa?

How did you name the original characters in House of Cards? Did any characters in particular take inspiration from existing characters in TV shows, anime, books, any type of media?

How did you decide on Vminkook as your main characters for the story? What do you see in their dynamic and them as characters?

Jimin is claimed to be one of the best written characters in the entire story. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

Taehyung is an especially dynamic character whose morals get tested time and time again in House of Cards. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

Jungkook is one of the characters that the readers spend the least amount of time getting a perspective from, but is incredibly well written in his character progression. What was your thought process when characterizing him and developing him?

When it came to various aspects in the story, I did do research. Most of it never really had an impact on the story itself. For example, I would be looking up gun models that are used by law enforcement agencies around the world and trying to find specs of them so I could learn how many bullets each gun held, or how much a magazine could hold. In action scenes, I didn't want my characters firing off 20+ bullets for a gun that—in reality—holds far less. That's a fact that doesn't really mean much to the average reader, but it meant something to me! I've always hated how many bullets fly through the air in action scenes in films and TV shows because I'm always wondering if it's possible with the firearms featured in the scene haha~ In terms of torture, I've come across the subject through various documentaries and TV shows about gangs, crime and serial killers. I didn't really do much additional research into the topic, beyond reading up on what I had come across to make sure it wasn't fictionalised for drama purposes. Obviously, there will be some lack of realism in my story because I couldn't possibly write a realistic portrayal of gang violence and torture when I have zero personal experience with it. My aim wasn't to give the story 'full' realism (I'll explain more about that in the next question) but to simply create a world that felt real, even if there were little aspects that had to be exaggerated for the sake of the story. Taehyung's behaviour when undercover certainly broke many procedures. The only thing working in his favour that allowed him to get away with it is that the crimes he committed couldn't be directly traced to him. But a real undercover agent would never do the things that he did on behalf of the gang. Basically, this means that the entire story is unrealistic! But of course, it wouldn't be very entertaining if Taehyung simply observed from the background and didn't dirty his hands. So, I had to bend and break the rules a little!

For the universe, I knew that I couldn't base it too much in reality. Because of basic Korean law, it would have been impossible for me to write the gang operating in the way they did in the story—especially with guns. Most Korean gangs tend to use other forms of violence and weapons in order to control their respective areas, rather than guns. My other story, Taste of Ink, has what I would consider a more realistic approach to gang activity—with the main weapons being knives, baseball bats, etc. and the main forms of violence being assault instead of flat-out murder. So, for the sake of allowing guns to appear in the story, I had to create a Neo-Seoul, so to speak. I took inspiration from Korean gangs, and mixed it with influences from other gang cultures in order to create 'Haedogje Pa.'

When it comes to naming original characters, I honestly don't put much thought into it. I like to use real names for inspiration. I often Google various Korean films I've watched and read the cast list in order to find interesting character and actor names. This is because I have a habit of reusing names sometimes. For example, readers of my stories might have come across a couple of Daesu and Goohee characters. Do you know where I got these names from? I picked Daesu from Oh Daesu - Choi Minsik's character in Oldboy. Goohee comes from the manhwa 'Let Dai' - he is the stubborn gang leader that actually has a good heart beneath his rough exterior. I ended up liking him the most by the end of the story, so his name is one that often comes to mind when I need to pick an original character name.

I never really consider real life dynamics when I'm writing because my stories are so detached from reality that it seems pointless including any inspiration from reality. I chose the three main characters simply because, at the time, they seemed to fit the character moulds the best. The other characters fit their respective characters so well (especially Namjoon [BTS RM/Kim Namjoon] and Yoongi) that I simply thought it was best to have Taehyung, Jimin [BTS Jimin/Park Jimin] and Jungkook as the three lead roles. I chose them more based on how I thought they could personally fit the characters, rather than focus on the dynamic. To use Taehyung as an example, I thought that he would fit the character of the informant in my story because in reality, he is intelligent and seemed like he would suit the role. For Jimin, I thought he would be a good choice for a character that some might think is vulnerable or even weak. He is actually very strong and the most important character for the plot progression. For Jungkook, I liked the thought of someone with such an innocent outer appearance hiding a dark secret.

I'm so glad that readers took to Jimin so positively on a whole. I know there are some that hated him, or that hated the fact I chose him for such a role (a 'negative' sex worker role). But Jimin is the most important character for the plot progression. It is through him that the entire plan finally culminates in the explosive finish. I wanted to treat him with care because I understood that his character could go very wrong if not handled correctly. It would have been easy for him to simply become nothing more than a sexual prop, should the story have focused too much on Taehyung and Jungkook as the key players. So, I decided to subvert it by giving Jimin the ultimate hand in the story and allowing him to have more control than Jungkook in the end. If Jimin had not decided to follow through with the plan, if he had decided to snitch or had simply refused to do his part in exposing the gang, the story would've ended drastically differently. But I also didn't want to write Jimin taking control of the entire situation at the end because it would've felt ingenuine. He is a character that has been deeply affected by a lifetime of trauma. I was worried that some might take my portrayal of his trauma the wrong way, and see him not as a character that has suffered immense mental damage but rather as an annoying, weak character that gets in the way of more 'interesting' dynamics. I'm sure there will be readers that think that. Mentally traumatized individuals are often seen in such negative light, be they fictional characters or real people. When writing his character, especially in the later scenes, I wanted to make sure the trauma he experienced would shape his behaviour. Writing the scene of him getting ready to leave, when he is taking his pills and he doesn't think he can do it, it was hard. It was hard getting into that headspace of feeling so powerless in the moment and knowing that freedom is in reach, but not knowing how to achieve it. He was a difficult character to write, but I think he turned out just right in the end.

Taehyung was probably the best character to write. I love characters that start off so morally upright and pristine, and by the end of the story, their backs are bending and close to breaking from the weight of their conscience and misdeeds. His character has many facets to him that made his perspectives so interesting to tackle. From his green days in the gang, where he is horrified by the violence he sees, to the changes in his psyche as he starts to become desensitized to it all. Fundamentally, Taehyung begins the story as a good man, a hero, but by the end, there is no black and white thinking. He has become grey, muddied from his time spent in the gang. Is he a hero for bringing them down? Would a hero do the things that he did in order to bring down the gang? He killed people. He tortured people. He threatened a man with a gun, a man he knew had a deepset fear of guns that would severely trigger him. I think it all depends on how the reader sees it. The hardest thing to write for his character was his troubled descent into the relationship between him, Jungkook and Jimin, and how it affects his thought processes and emotions. I didn't want House of Cards to be seen as a romantic story when I created it. If readers see it that way, they are more than entitled to their own interpretations. I cannot tell them how they can interpret my art, that is not my role as the creator. I don't know if I effectively portrayed the co-dependency between the three main characters as well as I would've liked. But I had never tackled such a story and themes before, and so it was all new to me.

I didn't know that Jungkook had the least perspective from the three main characters. Similarly, I never really put that much effort into creating and developing his character! Jungkook simply 'happened' in the moment. He would appear in the chapter, and then his character would basically take control of the scene. I never really knew what he was going to say or do beyond my rough plans for each scene. I just waited until he appeared and let the creative spirit flow through me. That's how he came to be! I've had that happen many times in the past with characters—they have a life of their own and I've no control over them. In my story, Brotherhood, Taehyung happened the same way. It was impossible to write his character in that story because he was so wild and free-spirited that it didn't feel right unless his behaviour was a total spur-of-the-moment reaction to the other characters and new plot points. But with Jungkook in House of Cards, I don't know why I didn't have him planned out like the others. It's interesting to think that he might've had a good progression when I never planned any of it in detail!

Were there any original characters you particularly liked writing or enjoyed?

When you wrote for the BTS hyung line, how did you determine their roles in the story and characterize each of them?

Is there a reason behind Namjoon saying “brother” or was it a consciously written character quirk?

When you handled more serious subject matter in House of Cards, how did you feel when writing it? Were you ever startled by your own work?

Was there any type of purposeful titling for the fanfiction chapters?

What was your reason for House of Cards’ open ending?

I liked writing Lim, the original informant that helped Taehyung join the gang. I like writing characters that come across as sleazy. In his case, the sleaze was all an act and wasn't true to his character; he was affecting it for the sake of creating a persona. But I enjoy writing absolute sleaze balls too—the kind of guys that have chest hair and wear gold chains and thick watches, who practically ooze oil. I just find them fun! Lim was a good teacher, even when he was rough around the edges. It was sad doing what I had to do to him for the sake of the plot. But I feel like Lim understood the game as well as everyone else, and so he knew he was running on borrowed time.

Of course, I loved writing Bae Goohee too! He was an absolute bastard! I loved writing this figure that is spoken about throughout the story as a frightening man, one so brutal that the readers are already wary of him before he even appears in the story. I believe that Taehyung refers to him as a 'guard dog' at some point. I think Bae is the scariest character in the story for me because he is so ruthless and willing to do any order that the Jeon clan give to him. That kind of blind and unwavering devotion is frightening!

I also enjoyed writing Sungah and Jangmi. I think they're the only female characters in the story that have dialogue? Sungah has a great backstory that I unfortunately couldn't go into too much in the story, but it shaped her character a lot. I like how frank and intelligent she is—she holds her own even in a department filled with men that receive far more praise than she does simply because she is a woman. She also allowed me to add an angle about the unfair treatment of women in jobs that have power, drawing parallels with how Taehyung faces discrimination from his fellow officers when his sexuality is abruptly revealed during the investigation. As for Jangmi, I just liked writing about the wife of a mob boss! And not one that is simply a trophy wife, but actually has a lot of power and influence across the city. I wish I had been able to feature her more, alongside her husband, Jeon himself. But I like the scenes they appear in and I enjoyed writing them.

For the rest of the members, I had Namjoon and Hoseok [BTS J-Hope/Jung Hoseok]'s characters planned right from the start. I had also created plans for Yoongi and Seokjin [BTS Jin/Kim Seokjin], but I wasn't sure how much of a role they would play in the overall story. As I started writing them, I realised that Yoongi would play an important role in both Taehyung and Jimin's character development, and so he ended up featuring a lot more than I had expected. I planned their jobs and then let them influence how I would write them. Namjoon and Hoseok's characters came naturally. Yoongi's character completely took over his job role and basic description and became a really strong character that I'm proud of. Seokjin was a little trickier because he doesn't appear in too many scenes—but the scenes he does are integral to the plot. I needed to make sure that his character said everything he needed to in his limited scenes. He has quite the bombshell to drop after all! Seokjin was also tricky because I wanted him to have an air of mystery around him. I wanted him to be the kind of guy that not even Taehyung and his police connections would be able to unearth much about; a ghost in the system. I would've also liked for him to feature more in the story, but I feel like his character appeared in the essential scenes that the story needed. He was going to feature more in the planned sequel, being one of the first characters to appear alongside Yoongi. He was going to serve an important role, so I'm disappointed that I didn't get to show those scenes to readers.

With Namjoon, I wanted to portray him as a mature character, but not one that was conservative and stiff. I thought about having him say things like 'man' but that seemed too casual and didn't suit his character. 'Man' made him seem more like a surfer than a police officer. But when he said 'brother' in one of the scenes, I realised the word suited him better. It was fraternal, and it allowed him to show some affection towards the other characters without having to have physical contact with them. It's not the only Namjoon I've written that says 'brother' a lot. In Valentino Summers, Namjoon has experience with hippies in the neighbourhood that he lives in, so he also refers to other characters like Jimin as 'brother.' It just seems to suit him! I guess it's because I like creating Namjoon characters that are intelligent and mature, but still have a gentle and warm presence. I could picture him saying it in real life (I'm certain he already has!)

When writing serious subject matter, I'm surprised to admit that I was never shocked by what I was writing! I guess it's because I already knew that I was going to be handling dark themes. I wouldn't have tackled such subjects had I not felt comfortable doing so. Dark content isn't for everyone, and by that I don't simply mean consuming it. Creating it can be very difficult for some writers, and can even cause distress. It's not easy diving into a world that is filled with crime, pain and fear. It's even harder putting yourself into the shoes of a character that is suffering/has suffered. I was never writing in a desensitised state though. Far from it. I'm actually very sensitive to violence in reality. In fiction, it depends on the violence—but I'm usually not too affected by it. I've been a fan of horror since I was a child, and so I've seen a lot of nasty films filled with gore and 'shocking' deaths that never really had much of an effect on me. Unrealistic violence doesn't scare me. But when it comes to personal violence, that is always frightening to me. It's far scarier writing a scene where a character feels threatened by another character and doesn't know what is going to happen to them then, say, writing a scene of a character dying a bloody, ridiculous death in a horror story. Personal violence is much more realistic, therefore it is more unsettling to write. In House of Cards, the violence is very personal. It's in your face, it's inescapable for the characters that are involved in it. But at no point did I ever feel like I needed to stop writing because I was uncomfortable or scared by the content. If I had been uncomfortable, it would have been very reckless of me to continue writing the story.

My word of advice to fellow dark content writers: it's always important to recognise your own boundaries. There's nothing wrong with removing dark content from a story if you get a bad vibe or feel strange when writing/reviewing it. Always follow your gut instincts and never put out work that you don't like.

When writing stories, I vary between titling the chapters and leaving them blank. For House of Cards, I cannot remember the exact method for naming the chapters. Sometimes, the title comes to me when I am writing the plans and I have an idea that just suits the mood of the chapter. Other times, I have finished the entire chapter and I have to spend some time reviewing the content to decide that the title will be. In some cases, I have finished most of a whole story and I'm still not certain what to title it! I feel like with House of Cards, the titles came after the chapters were finished, or at least when they were works-in-progress.

There are some titles that really stand out to me. 'Nice Teeth' for example, is a really ridiculous title. Going into the chapter, I don't think many readers would've imagined what it could mean. 'Submachine Sodomy' is even funnier. I really can't believe I chose that as a title! I'll bet a lot of readers saw it and thought, "Oh no! Not another gunplay scene!" Luckily for them, it wasn't a reference to Jungkook's predilection for firearms in bed.

In terms of chapter titles that I really like: 'Delusions of Grandeur,' 'I Own This Fucking City,' 'Sleeping Dogs Bite' and 'Carpe-fucking-Diem.' I just feel like these titles are very well suited to the contents of the chapters. They are the kind of titles that have bite to them, that hint at action or an important plot point.

As for the open ending, there are a couple of reasons. First of all, I had planned to continue the story in a sequel that would pick up after the events of House of Cards, roughly a year on after the investigation. However, I did not pursue this sequel. I wanted House of Cards to end on an open note for the sequel to continue the story. When it comes to certain stories, I just feel that closed endings aren't always necessary. I often enjoy stories with open endings. With House of Cards, it didn't seem right just closing the book and saying it was over. There was still so much that needed to be explored. Unfortunately, I decided to not continue it. But I still think that House of Cards' ending fits the story.

Were there any scenes or moments or lines in House of Cards that you were particularly proud of or want to highlight?

If you were to write the Yoomin sequel to House of Cards, how would’ve that looked like?

How were readers’ reactions to your work in the beginning?

Did any reader comments stick with you in particular?

How did you take the criticisms and hatred towards House of Cards for its serious subject matter? When did those types of comments start appearing? Also, where did the hatred come from? Twitter? Tumblr? Ao3 comments? Did people harass you at all or hurt you? How did you heal from that?

House of Cards has a lot of scenes. I'm proud of most of them and I think I did the best I could when writing them. I do not really like the sex scenes, but that is because I wanted to write them in a dirty, sleazy way. If I could, I would change them. I like the action scenes, especially the Gold Monkey Casino and police raid scenes. Action scenes are hard to write! Fight scenes in particular are so tricky. I often sit there, choreographing the fights so I can describe them! I loved writing Yoongi's introduction to the story, when he walks into the scene wearing nothing but his underpants.

One scene that I really liked writing is the scene where Namjoon and Hoseok investigate the USB stick that Taehyung sends to them. I personally love Namjoon and Hoseok's characters. I always enjoyed writing them. In this scene, I liked getting to write them in a setting that was not the police department office. A scene where they got to relax and banter with each other, even though they were still working. They discover a horrifying crime ring in the city, but they are left with no choice but to keep it secret because they do not want to risk blowing Taehyung's cover. I do not know why I really like this scene, I just do.

In the sequel, which focused primarily on Jimin and Yoongi, the plans were to have them reunite through Seokjin—who has avoided jail time through a plea deal with the SMPA. They undergo a healing process together as they try to come to terms with what happened to them. Yoongi has a lot of unhealed trauma from his childhood, much like Jimin, which I only got to briefly touch upon in House of Cards. They grow closer from bonding over their traumatic experiences, and they become happier and healthier as a result. Taehyung and Seokjin were also going to be main characters, with Jungkook, Namjoon and Hoseok making supporting appearances over the duration of the story. It was going to be drastically different from House of Cards because it would be lacking in action and violence. It would have been much more intimate, with much more scenes of characters talking and discovering things about one another.

I cannot remember early reactions to the story, I just know they were positive. There was a lot of positive support from the start. As I updated and started to get more and more into the story, I received a lot of support on tumblr too. I started posting chapter previews there, as I used to get asks [On Tumblr, users are able to ask bloggers questions through an “Ask” function. This can be done anonymously or with their own blog username associated with the question.] requesting them. I got A LOT of asks on my original Tumblr from readers that wanted to discuss the characters and certain scenes. It was really interesting seeing just how much the readers were interested in the story, so much so that they wanted to learn even more about the characters and the universe I had created.

Through House of Cards, I have received comments and messages from readers that had addictions. They told me about how they recognised their own behaviors through Taehyung, and this helped them realise what was happening to them. Those comments stuck with me for obvious reasons. I have family members with addiction issues, and knowing that I could help some stranger I have never met before come to terms with their own addictive behaviours had a massive impact on me. Funnily enough, a negative comment stuck with me. It was not a bad comment, by no means meant to cause offence. It was a comment that was left on the story when I was posting the early chapters. I recall the reader asking when the story was going to pick up the pace because it was too slow. It stuck with me because, at this point in the story, Taehyung had already trained to become an undercover agent, had enrolled in the gang, had met and interacted with Jungkook, and had murdered a man. I was surprised that this amount of development had been seen as 'slow' by a reader, as I had thought the plot had been moving very fast.

I never really had any hate posted on the story when I was updating it. I got angry reactions when I had finished it. Because the story had not ended the way some readers had wanted, I think that was what caused the negative reactions. On my original Tumblr, I even got an ask about how an anon reader was going to write their own ending because my one was bad. I told them that I did not want them to take my story and change it like that. I have no idea if they ever posted the ending anywhere. The angry reactions were mostly from shippers, who were upset with the story not ending the way they had wanted. To them, I ask: what were you expecting from the story? I thought it was always obvious that Taehyung was going to do what he had set out to do from the start, so I do not think I misled readers at all. It was a story about an undercover agent taking down a gang—and that is what I wrote.

I know there was some animosity towards me on Twitter too. Twitter is a whirlpool of negativity, I am not surprised. Writing House of Cards made me appear problematic. My partner used to follow an author a long time back, who tweeted about me being problematic—despite having never interacted with me or admittedly read my stories. It was shocking to me that people were making assumptions of who I was as a person based on a story I created. I have never created stories with the aims of hurting or upsetting others. I am a very quiet and private person, and I hate the idea of hurting others. It was strange to me that people could assume me to be this cruel or even dangerous individual, intent on hurting others, because I created a fictional story. Do they think the same of script writers for television shows? Or film directors, who create films with dark subject matter? Do they think published authors are problematic people for writing dark and disturbing content? Do they think certain genres should not exist because they do not personally like them?

I do think it is strange that fan fiction writers are placed on these ridiculously high pedestals of moral absolutism. Fan fiction was created to be a space for creative outlet for marginalised individuals, particularly queer individuals. The heavy censorship of dark and unusual content is putting this entire ethos at danger. I understand not wanting to have certain topics included in stories because there is a risk that the content can be used for grooming or can be presented in a way that can negatively affect young consumers' perceptions (like pedophilia for example.) I certainly agree that there needs to be boundaries in place to stop the community from being flooded with such illegal content. But I think there is a difference between wanting to remove dangerous content, and wanting to get rid of content you do not like. Content can be problematic to you, but that does not make it dangerous, illegal, or bad. For some readers, the content they create is their way of dealing with trauma. Maybe this is not healthy for them. But that is their decision to make, not yours.

I orphaned the story because I did not want to handle the potential backlash. To put it simply, I do not handle negative criticism well. Not because I am stuck-up and think I am perfect, but because I am a very anxious person. Just reading angry comments makes me feel very uncomfortable, often nauseous. I know that House of Cards has received overwhelmingly positive feedback from readers, and for that I am thankful. But I had to distance myself for the sake of my own mental health. Since orphaning it, it exploded in popularity. I am thankful that I orphaned it because that amount of attention would frighten me a lot, haha~

What was your reaction to the fanfiction trailer by Sappiamur?

How did you come to the decision to reveal your real name in the end note of House of Cards?

How did you feel when you finished House of Cards?

How did you come to the decision to orphan House of Cards?

Did you ever anticipate the overwhelming fan reaction to House of Cards?

How do you feel knowing that House of Cards is one of the most read fanfictions on Ao3?

What do you want House of Cards to be remembered for?

What do you hope people take away from House of Cards?

Why do you think House of Cards became so popular?

I had to go back and watch it. It's been some time since I last have, and I'm still as amazed by it now as I was back then. The trailer is insane. I cannot imagine how much work went into making it. It's so good and it fits the vibes of the story to perfection. I think the first time I watched it, I was in shock. I must have repeated it at least 10 times in a row, just to make sure it was real and I wasn't imagining it. Then I think I screamed about it on my social media accounts, haha~ If you reading this have not watched the trailer, consider doing so. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Back when I first started posting fanfics, I used to get a lot of asks wanting to know my name, my pronouns, stuff like that. I thought by adding my name at the end of the stories, it would help cut down on these requests. But I also did so because I used to get a lot of asks referring to me as 'author-nim' and I didn't like being addressed by this honorific. I'm not Korean so I have no right to receive that honorific. So, I included my real name so readers could address me with it when sending me asks and interacting with me. I don't add my name at the end of my stories now, but my name is in my Twitter bio for those that want to know.

When I finished it, I felt relieved! I was so calm in the moment! Looking back on it, I can't remember much. But I do remember finishing House of Cards without any issues. The final chapters flowed smoothly, it all clicked into place, and I had a great time writing them.

I came to the decision to orphan the story after several nights of contemplation. I was considering deleting the story, along with a few others, but my partner and some friends told me I shouldn't do so. They suggested orphaning it instead. So, I did so. I didn't want to delete it in case readers that had started it had not gotten to finish it yet. I would've felt very mean robbing them of the opportunity to finish the story like that. I don't regret orphaning it instead of deleting it. I didn't want to destroy the story, I just needed some distance between me and the story.

I didn't anticipate it, and I still don't understand it! I'm shocked that House of Cards got the reaction that it received. Do I think it's a good story? Yes, I think that I worked hard to create a story that is enjoyable to read. But did I ever think it would get the reaction it did? Not in a million years! I thought that it would be one of my more popular stories because a) the pairings and b) the content. Gang stories usually tend to get a lot of attention because it's a popular genre in fanfiction. I just didn't expect it to reach such a vast amount of hits, kudos and comments.

I'm in shock that it is one of the most read stories on AO3. I don't think I will ever be able to create another story that will garner that kind of attention and feedback. It's a once in a lifetime thing, so I'm immensely proud of myself for achieving such a feat. But really, it's all because of the readers that it achieved such a goal. I'm so thankful for every single one of them.

I just want it to be remembered for being enjoyable, I think. I don't have any grand and lofty ambitions for the story. I think so long as the readers enjoyed it, that is all that matters.

I'm not sure what I would like readers to take away from House of Cards. I guess I want them to reflect on the idea of morality and that not everything is black-and-white. Good people can do bad things, and bad things can happen to good people. It's hard to answer this question because House of Cards isn't a story that I consider to have deep messages in it? There are no messages about acceptance and love and healthy relationships and such, like some of my other stories.

Honestly? I don't know what made it get so popular. I assume it's because of the pairings or the setting of the story. I know that a lot of readers say they love the story because of how well it's written, but I can't comment on that as the creator, haha~ I can't say my story is well-written as I'm not consuming it from an outside perspective. What I can say is that I do think I created a story that has a lot of twists and turns and betrayals, which I think adds to the enjoyment factor.

How are you now in 2020? Are you writing professionally in real life at all?

How do you feel BTS fanfiction has changed over time? Since you’ve been writing for it for so long.

Do you have any messages for people who may read this interview in the future?

I'm not writing professionally. I have self-published two books via Amazon and Lulu. One was a basic re-branding of my story babes in the woods. The other was a total rewrite of Brotherhood, which I called 'Brothers,' featuring a whole new setting and roster of characters. I published them as readers showed an interest in reading original stories. I have been considering rewriting House of Cards as an original work in the future, but I can't say for certain that I will do so.

Since I started writing, I think there's been a lot of changes in the fandom—not only in fanfiction but in general. There's been popular trends that have come and gone (I was around for the explosion of social media and text-based AUs, which I personally am not a fan of) but there's also been a lot of push for more inclusive content. I'm really happy by the amount of inclusive content that I see these days. Despite some pushback from non-queer fans that sometimes have an issue with queer subject matter (for example, trans characters) I think it's wonderful that artists of all colours, genders and sexualities are now proudly creating content they want to see, and not simply just what is 'in demand' from the fandom.

The message that I would like to share with readers of this interview is: stay healthy, stay happy, and most importantly, stay you. I also want to take this moment to tell them this - if you are considering becoming a creator, but you are worried about reception to your work, or that it might not be good enough, stop right now! Stop doubting yourself and just give it a shot! I was once like you, scared that my weird and niche interests and writing would be ignored or even mocked by the fandom because no one would like it. Had I not decided to take the plunge, my life would be so drastically different. I've made so many friends, fallen in love, and completely changed my life by creating fan content. It can be scary, but once you take the leap, you will find your feet coming down on solid earth without any danger.

Thank you for reading this interview. Further below are reminders and information about this interview and Charmseoul’s Fanlore project.

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