#does anyone else feel like their characters are just constantly hooking up on the couch??

[neonovember]

dating carmen

a carmen berzatto headcanon for all of us feening for season 2

i must admit I was bored at the start of bear and than the next few minutes I was immediately hooked! carmen is such a unique character with so many layers I’d love to uncover as the seasons progress, but for now these are all coming from the depths of my mind :)

I’ve consumed about all the bear content tumblr has to offer so it’s only right I add to the shallow pool, even though this was pure self indulgence

carmy x reader inserts below!

we all know that Carmen has little to no experience with relationship, so the beginning of yours does not come without challenges. It’s hard for him, he barely registers his own emotions much anyone else’s, but in a way he has this subconscious itch in his mind to constantly know if your okay, to ask about your day, it becomes second nature with you.

Carmen refuses to call you by your actual name, often replacing it with honey, baby girl, sweetheart and with the way that accent glides over those words like honey you can’t bring yourself to protest

Carmen has never really thought of having kids, building a family or being tied to someone forever but sometimes, when he sees you fluttering around the apartment you both share, or giggling with richie's daughter he can’t help but imagine building something like that with you, some time. he doesn't doubt that if he did every have children, you would be the mother of his kids. he has visions of it, dreams where you have a gorgeous girl he would hold close or a mini mickey running around, he has to forget it though, he’s just not ready.

Carmen barely ever eats, despite being a chef, most of the things he consumes is easily accessible and in turn flavourless and unsatisfying. but after you come into his life, you practically force him to eat every time you see him, until carmen begins to eat whenever you're near. You can’t lie, it heals something in you

let’s also talk about the totally canon time where you were up late writing one night and carmen had just come back from the beef, tiptoeing through the corridor to not wake you up until he sees you sprawled out on the couch. there’s this tension that leaves his soldiers and he wastes no time taking his shoes off and sliding under the blankets, burying his tired body into yours, grease stained shirt and all but you don’t mind. you’d scratch and brush back his hair and he’d groan in bliss, closing his eyes before you would ask him that fateful question. carmen feels guilty every time he replies with the same 2 letter word, but every time you tell him that it’s part of being his. he couldn’t lie when he felt his jeans tighten at that sentence.

continuing onto that vision, despite your amateur cooking skills, you whip up something quick for Carmen that is actual sustenance and Carmen has to force his eyes open to watch you as you cook, completely and forever enraptured by you. and this man is crazy with his eye contact so imagine it with someone he loves. it’s inSANE

feeding carmen when he’s back from the beef and is too tired to lift a hand. he’s just murmuring ‘I love yous’ repeatedly between bites and you can’t help but giggle. he’s so delirious from lack of sleep all he can form are words that have been written into his tongue like muscle memory

as we see carmen, dealing with his anxiety and unresolved trauma is often terrorised by night terror and ptsd, and that kind of causes him to have this fear of you finding out somehow, whether that be by staying over or him falling asleep next to you, it all comes to a head one night when exactly that happens, and when carmen realise you haven’t stared at him in judgement or left with the door wide open it’s like everything changes. he’s finally found someone that accepts him fully, with all his jagged ends and sharp corners and he is gone at that moment. he is totally and completely head over heels in love with you.

after that revelation you are spending most nights over at his apartment, and whilst the nightmares are still there, as they might always be, there is a relief when he wakes up and feels the beat of your body rubbing circles gently across his back

the progression of your relationship with carmen happens a bit like falling asleep, slow at first and then all at once. it doesn’t take long for Carmen to confess his love to you, in that awkward yet charming way of his, and it takes even shorter after that for you to move in with him

speaking of, carmen probably fell in love with you the second he saw you, that glow that shone in a place that wasn’t the beefs kitchen, he just couldn’t quite actualise or express his feelings

he’s probably hear Tina or Ebra teasing you about a guy they had seen you with, which was no one but your cousin, and carmen would feel this burn across his chest that sinks his stomach, and then we would just know. you would be noticing the change in his demeanour at the mention of a guy connected to you, he’ll the whole kitchen did, especially when Tina would give you a look when he chastised everyone to ‘get back to work because this place isn’t gonna run itself’

I heard someone post about washing carmen’s hair and just- yes. he’s too exhausted to even eat so washing carmen’s hair would be a frequent thing. you’d always have to do it at night though because carmen would sneak a hand around your waist and hoist you up and then proceed to fuck you against the tile walls. You couldn’t be late, he couldn’t be late. For the 100th time.

carmen is touch starved, and that makes him so incredibly needy, you don’t mind however, because you're as touch starved as him. there are times where he comes home and just reaches for you, mumbling incoherent words before just grabbing your hips and making you straddle him on the living room coach. he’s so sensitive and blissed out then, even the slightest thrust of your closed core against his tight jeans leaves him whimpering

oh yeah carmen whimpers, I mean are you kidding? Look at that man

carmen, despite not having many relationships under his belt, is ridiculously, I mean concerningly good at eating your pussy. this man will spend hours, edging you, nibbling on your inner thighs, licking and sucking before thirsting a finger and tongue into you with no warning. he knows every single inch of your body, he’s got it memorised, he dreams about it in the office, on his smoke breaks, in the kitchen, hell especially in the kitchen. getting hard all over again when he remembers the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and how you fell apart with his name on yours.

you think carmen is needy during sex? he’s a whole other thing after, this man will keep his cock buried in you long after your highs, until it gets soft and uncomfortable, and even then he needs you close to him, holding you tight against his chest or having you rest your cheek on his collarbone

bear hugs. lots and lots of bear guys. there's something about carmen’s arms that just make you feel so soft and warm wrapped up in them

carmen really likes how you smell, its almost primal (ehm anthtony bridgerton) he loves washing his body with you scented body wash, even if cousin would tease the fuck out of him for smelling like strawberries, carmen just shakes his head and smiles at the reminder that he is completely and utterly yours.

carmen isn't that rambunctious with his displays of affection, it's subtle, like making you coffee before he leaves or getting down to tie your shoes for you, but it's genuine. it's unique to him, it’s carmen. he'd probably design a dish based on you without realising how goddamn romantic that is. i imagine him calling you to the kitchen and getting you to try something, little scribbled notes written on paper and a little notebook with written and rewritten recipes and you'd ask what it is and he'd reply with "you" and then idk he’d maybe ask you to marry him

carmy would be an absolutely emotional mess on your wedding day, it's partly because he didn't think he'd have a life that included one, and partly because couldn't wrap his head around you actually saying yes. He’s crying when you both wake up on that morning, hes crying when you both sneak away to see each other before the altar, he's crying when he sees you walking down, you've got a box of tissues attached to your dress for him

carmen is a perfectionist, he has this insatiable need to make things beyond perfect, his work is his passion and that need seeps into most of life. however, a lot of the times things in your relationship don’t go right, and it’s mostly why he has never really given his all to one, he’s scared he’ll fuck it up and once that happens you cant start again, you can’t redo the recipe with a new batch. But carmen, slowly, very slowly, learns that things don't have to be perfect, they just have to be real.

You're carmen's unofficial official taste tester. One snowed in night, you and carm just stayed up all night, designing and tweaking recipes and new dishes for the bear, with carm mostly doing the designing and you being his very scrutinising critic

carmy loved whatever you called him, i think he kind of froze the first time you called his name, but he especially loves it when you call him by his full name. everyone else kinda has the same nickname for him but he loves that you call him by something only you do, because he will always call for you

And oh my god if you call him ‘husband’ after you get married? It does something unholy to him

carmen is constantly searching for you, he gets anxious when you aren't around or when your late, you are his best friend beyond his lover and the only person he can truly feel at ease with, the crew are his family as they are yours but there is so much that he bottles that he can only express to you during those nights under light of the moon and sweat covered sheets.

you take everything carmen gives, and there is so much that he does, but it was not always that easy, loving carmen was hard, it was frustrating and overwhelming and carmen is forever trying to give you the love he could not those first few months where he closed himself off to you

sometimes, your heart aches so much with the love you have for carmen, and carmen sometimes feels like he's wading through a current when he thinks of you, he just wants to give into the rush of love and adoration that overwhelms him. its personified in every vessel of his life, he's got polaroids of you stuck to his car mirror, in his wallet, he's got your necklace around his neck and drinks from your mug, you ruined him for anyone else, and he can't imagine his life without you, your scent, your hair products and bring pink toothbrush all over it.

[queenmylovely]

Okay okay okay i have a blurb request - reader and rog are chilling out and shes like playing with his hair and discovers *dun dun dun* a grey hair and has to talk roger down from a midlife crisis or whatever lmao

I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to turn this into smut other than the usual “I’ll show you I'm not old” railing (which I love) but never fear, cause I’m actually very happy with where this ended up. Thank you babe for a great prompt and for being my smut muse as always 

warnings are smut (18+), cussing, and it’s 1.9k 

☆☆☆

As much as Roger thought he could always go go go, there were days that he preferred to hang out at your place the whole day. These days were usually after a big concert, several long days in the studio, or a big party. This time it was a party. To be more specific, Freddie had thrown a Hanukkah party. Even though he wasn’t Jewish and to your knowledge knew almost nothing about the holiday, he argued that it was only fair to throw a Hanukkah party if he was going to throw a Christmas one.

His decorations were blue and white with giant menorahs and dreidels. As well as the usual food, there was latkes, his chef’s interpretation of sufganiyot doughnuts, and gelt everywhere. Freddie had also made sure that all the food was kosher compliant, which you thought was good of him.

Somehow, this Hanukkah party had ended up even wilder than his typical ones, and Roger had paid the price. Normally, he would’ve made it over to yours around 1:00pm the day after a party, but this time he didn’t even come until a day later, though at 9:00am.

He brought with him coffee and muffins so you let him in with a smile instead of grumbling about how he woke you up. Then the day passed pretty much doing nothing. You lounged in your bed sharing breakfast until you were ready to get ready for the day, had a precarious and giggly romp with each other in the shower, made sandwiches and cut up fruit together in the kitchen for lunch, and finally sat on the couch half-watching Christmas movies as they came on the tv.

While you had both started sitting up, Roger had slowly leaned over onto you until eventually his head was resting in your lap. Because you knew it was what he wanted and because it gave your hands something to do, you started playing with his hair. At first, you did it mindlessly, just feeling your fingers comb through his soft hair. But when the movie switched to one that you had seen a million times before, you paid more attention.

Roger’s hair was shorter than it had been in years past, and while you liked how it looked now, you were a little sad that gone were the days of long, wavy, pretty hair. Still, it was long enough for you to braid little tiny braids into it, especially in the back and on top. That’s what you were doing now, giggling as his head became covered in one inch long braids. Roger didn’t seem to mind, but that was probably because it felt good and he was more than half asleep anyway.

You finally made it to the hair just above his temples, sectioning out the hair that was long enough to braid. That’s when you saw it, a single grey hair among all the bleached and natural blonde.

Before you could help it, you gasped and Roger immediately jerked awake.

“What? What’s wrong?” Roger asked quickly, though his voice was still filled with sleep.

“Oh nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you claimed hurriedly.

“Then why did you gasp like that?”

“It was just the tv, very exciting part.”

He looked at the tv, “One, you’ve seen this thousands of times. Two, this is not an exciting part, nor has there been an exciting part for the last five minutes. So what is it?”

“Well, it’s just that-- I just,” you tried to stall but Roger gave you a look. “... I found a grey hair on your head.”

Roger shot up, both hands going to his head, “What the fuck, no you didn’t!”

“I did,” you grimaced. Then touched his arm, “But it’s okay, it was just the one.”

“No, if there’s one, there’s got to be more!” Roger said, trying to run his fingers through his hair but having trouble. “What the fuck did you do to my hair?”

You had to cover your mouth to keep yourself from bursting out laughing, but when he still looked at you for an answer, you had to reply through laughs, “They’re just little braids.”

“Arghh! Help me!” Roger demanded because as dexterous as his hands usually were, they apparently weren’t very good at undoing braids.

“Here, here, let me,” you said, batting his hands away with a few final giggles. You moved so you were kneeling beside him on the couch so you could reach his hair. It only took a couple minutes to do, during which you could see Roger frowning deeply. You thought about telling him he shouldn’t so he didn’t get frown lines but decided that probably wouldn’t help in the current situation.

“There you go,” you said, sitting back on your heels, smoothing his hair away from his face a final time.

He was still pouting so you thought for a second before speaking again.

“You know, Rog, 31 seems like a very reasonable age to start getting grey hairs. Some people get them in their twenties.”

Roger just looked at his hands.

So you tried a different approach, “And you know, I think you’d look pretty hot with grey hair.”

As you spoke, you placed your hand on Roger’s wrist and he looked up at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’d look sophisticated and confident,” you took a slow breath in. “Like you’re totally in control.”

Roger watched you closely, feeling how the energy in the room was shifting. Then he grabbed the hand that was on his wrist, pulling you closer until you got the idea and slung a leg over so you were straddling him.

“In control of what?” he asked, lowering his gaze ever so slightly towards you and lifting a finger to brush along your jawline.

“Whatever you want,” you almost whispered, waiting until he tilted your chin up before you moved closer and kissed him.

He kissed you back, but kept it slow and controlled. Keeping one hand right on your jaw, Roger moved the other to your waist to pull your body close to his. He pulled his thumb on your chin, parting your mouth enough for his tongue to run along the inside of your lower lip. You breathed in sharply and parted your mouth further, just hoping that he would deepen the kiss. To your great relief, he did and you sighed further into the kiss.

The hand that was on your waist started roaming, and whether it was to brush his thumb against your nipple, to splay his fingers across your ass and squeeze before landing a sharp spank, or to reach up and pull on your hair, every move caused a moan to be pulled from you.

You had fully lost yourself in the kiss when Roger’s hand crept in between the two of you, so his thumb pressing along your slit until it reached your clit made you gasp and pull away from the kiss for a second. His thumb rubbed you through your sweatpants and your brow furrowed as you focused on the feeling.

“Does that feel good?” Roger murmured, and when you looked at him there was a confident glint in his eyes that made you swallow thickly.

You nodded and Roger waited expectantly so you continued, “Yes, so good.”

“Good ‘cause that's what I wanted. To control your pleasure by giving you all of it,” his words and the way he was touching you made you shiver.

Suddenly, he pushed you to stand but he started pushing down your pants and underwear and you hurried to help. You tried to do the same with his, but he shook his head and stood up.

Roger motioned to the arm of the couch, “Lay back there.”

You did as he said, putting down a throw pillow first to cushion your back. You leaned back, legs in front of you and bent at the knee, your feet resting on the couch cushions. Roger laid down on the couch in front of you on his stomach. To fit he had to bend his knees too and so he crossed his ankles in the air. You thought it was cute but before you could say anything or laugh Roger licked right up your slit from your entrance to your clit.

There were no light kisses and licks to work you up to more; instead, he just latched his lips onto your clit and started sucking, your hips jumping up underneath him. So Roger used his left hand to press down on your hips and keep you from moving too much. His lips felt so good that you couldn’t resist tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

After a minute, Roger lifted his head a little, but it was just to let some of his spit drip onto your pussy. It was kind of a strange feeling since there was so little pressure, but then his right hand came up between your thighs and as he got his first two fingers wet, you understood what it was for.

Roger pushed his fingers in together, going slow enough so you could adjust, but the stretch still made you groan quietly and open your legs wider. He thrusted them in and out of you two more times and the slight pain was gone, letting you appreciate the feeling of fullness his fingers gave you.

His tongue found its way back to your clit, circling it before pressing down on it with broad licks. Roger was searching for your g spot with his fingers and once he did, he started sucking your clit at the same time.

The feeling turned your moan into a cry of pleasure, “Ah, Roger!”

His only response was to hum against you, and the buzz of the vibrations made a bolt of pleasure run throughout your entire body. Roger kept up this routine, making you moan and whine and whimper and then rewarding you with a hum every time you did. It all became overwhelming when he added another finger, stretching you further and increasing the pressure and pleasure on your g spot.

“I’m-- fuck--”

“You’re close?” Roger asked to confirm.

“Yes, yeah, ohhhh--”

“Come,” he told you, returning his lips to your clit, fingering you deftly, and humming against you, stronger this time.

You had told him he was in control, and it was true because as soon as he did that, you were coming, your legs involuntarily wrapping around his head as the pleasure ran through you, leaving you moaning and breathless.

Roger kept going until you let your legs down, placing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before smiling up at you. You reached for him and he acquiesced, finding your lips and kissing you deeply as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Breaking away from the kiss, you looked between you to his boner that was still present in his sweatpants, “Do you want me to suck you off?”

“That’d be nice,” Roger said nonchalantly, and you hit his shoulder lightly.

He got up, pushing down his sweatpants and briefs, kicking them to the side. You sat on the edge of the couch, figuring it’d be easiest to do with him standing and you sitting.

Placing your hands on the sides of his thighs, you looked up at him with only slight hesitation,“Do you-- can you control this too?”

Roger grinned.

★★★

[the-slasher-files]

OC: ANDREI KULOKOVA - NSFW ALPHABET

18 + ahead. Andrei is a freak and I cannot stop thinking about him so he needed this post badly.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Usually Andrei is very attentive after sex, especially after a particularly rough session. He will clean you of any blood, kiss your bruises and cuts, stroke your hair and call you his perfect little mouse.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His own favorite body part would have to be his hands and his teeth. Andrei’s hands are very skillful, and he likes to work with them any chance he gets either for murder or for love. The man has extremely sharp canine teeth that he loves to bite, plus Andrei knows it makes him sexier and more animalistic.

Andrei loves his partners neck and back. He goes wild if you have short hair or have your hair up, he will just sit there watching your back and neck as you make him dinner, loving how the muscles move and flex, adoring every bone in your back rise and fall, they’re just so breakable. It feeds his feral side if he sees you faulting the mark he has given you.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This boy likes it messy, big time messy. It is almost like an animalistic desire to see you covered in him and even yourself, if you mix a little blood in there too, oh boy, you’ve unlocked feral Andrei. He does also have a huge breeding kink and he will fill you up one thousand times over, finger you watching it ooze and drip, then rubbing it all over you and him. Andrei is nasty. He might even eat you out while your dripping his cum out of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly wants to be a sub but it will take a long, long time for him to get there and be comfortable being a switch. Andrei loves his partners to ride him and that is his submissive side wanting to be released, but he will always act as if he is in control. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Andrei is defiantly experienced in sex, but in a relationship, that’s a bit different. He is very good at sex and he knows it, but he tends to be a little selfish and loose himself, just jackhammering into you. Often Andrei has “fun” with his prey and has paid more than he would like to admit for a good time.   

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, doggy or having his partner ride him. Missionary is by far his favorite, Andrei wants, needs, to feel you writhe under him, he wants you to look him in the eyes as you cum, and feeling your pulse under his fingers.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Andrei is a very serious man in every way, and sex is often very intense, there is no room or enough air to laugh, but after a long time of being together he has a strange silly side to him. Especially if you catch him off guard with a joke he doesn't quite understand, "You are interesting little mouse" or Andrei's sadistic humor comes out when you jump a little too much at the flick of his knife.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Andrei is not a hairy man by any means, so he is very fortunate enough to let his hair go and it is still only a medium amount of hair. Not overly long, curly light brown, but he likes to keep it under control for the most part. Andrei also has a little treasure trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Now Andrei has no clue how to be romantic, it is never something anyone had ever shown him, so keeping you alive, living together and sex is his romance. Andrei is very intense in the bedroom and will kiss and love you there but outside of the bedroom, you might have to help him. Intimacy can be hard because he is very touched starved, the small touches and gentle kisses is something that is hard for him, so don’t be mad if you go hold Andrei’s hand and he pulls away. You need to teach him a lot in this department. His favorite thing is holding you though, either sweeping you off your feet or holding you on his lap, man loves it. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Andrei is a horny man who is gone a lot from home so of course he jacks off. Sometimes even if you’re at home he will call you into the bedroom and will just be fisting his cock smirking at you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This guy has so so many but his top favorites are blood, breath play, knives, predator/prey, breeding, daddy, fear play and bondage. He is a creative man with a lot of time on his hands.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Andrei will literally take you anywhere he damn pleases, from the field to the abandoned buildings to any surface in the house. He lives in the middle of nowhere so why bother trying to hide.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This guy is horny 89% of the time, so just always watch your back for the wolf lurking in the house. Your new pair of jeans that hug your ass just right? careful. Batting your lashes when looking up at him? watch out. If you really want him to get going, get yourself something sliky and lacy that puts your body on display, straddle his lap with one of his knives in hand, holy shit Andrei will lose it. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Andrei honestly doesn't have many no's and he will try it at least once before saying no. Absolutely no mommy kinks, given his past. Humiliation is a big no, he will never do it to you and you should never do it to him. Overly dominating him in his life, if you are worthy enough to see his sub side only use that in the bedroom, if you take that into every day life by ordering him around or asking for certain tasks done he is going to be very annoyed and pissed off. With you Andrei only wants a few simple things like cleaning his house, making him dinner and cuddling on the couch, other than that you are a free person, he won't try to really control you much. Just don't be stupid by leaving or putting yourself in danger or else his control and overbearingness comes out.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Now Andrei loves to see his s/o writhe, whimper and beg for him. It's an animalistic need. And he is stupidly perfect with his tongue and his hands are extremely skillful. You will have a great time with him going down on you, just watch his teeth if he gets too carried away and he loves to tease and edge so he might be down there a while. However Andrei doesn't go down on you too often because he knows he just that good, and he's an ass. But if you thought just because he doesn't go down on you often means you are off the hook?? Nope. He has a huge thing for getting his dick sucked and he's going to make you do it constantly.. sorry.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Andrei is a delicious, addicting mix of both in a way. He might edge and tease with foreplay for hours but the wolf is going to intensely and roughly ruin you, but if he is switches positions with you he likes to take it slow for a minute just watching you, praising and stroking your hair, probably wiping a tear or blood away, then back to impaling you. It's a true battle between the wolf and Andrei all they time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is a big fan, mainly just because he is horny a lot and has a lot of work to do. It's and instant anger/stress relief for him. But at the end of the day if you can quiet his mind enough Andrei enjoys watching you to crumble slowly under his hands and go for a long, long session.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is an ex soldier and mercenary, of course he's a risk taker. Andrei, like I said before, likes to try stuff at least once before saying no. Also being with him everyday is a risk in general, with all his knives and blood obsession.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This guy has stamina for days. You would think with all the cigarettes he smokes he would be dead in 10 minutes, but boy were you wrong. His hunts can go on for 10 hours or more sometimes, so you are at least in for 3-5 rounds at a time. If Andrei has been gone on a mission for a month or so and comes home you are not leaving the bedroom (or where ever he wants to fuck you) for at least 2 days.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't necessarily like toys to make you or himself cum but for teasing he will totally be down for it. Andrei rather just use his mouth or hands. Skin on skin is what he likes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Andrei adores teasing so much, he wants to break you down, bulid you back up then pick you apart again and again. He will put a plug in you all day just making sure you're ready for whenever he chooses to come home. Edging you is his favorite past time, he will do it until you cry and he will wipe the tears away and say "you're so beautiful myshka"

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not very talkative in his everyday life but man is a huge dirty talker when getting into it. He also produces wolf like growls deep within his throat creating the most sinful and sexual noise you had ever heard

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Silly drunk Andrei is my personal favorite, and it doesn't happen often at all so take it and run with it. He will start Russian dancing and almost failing over telling you watch him and learn, its very serious to him that you watch. He will also start singing old Russian songs from his childhood, loudly and wildly. Love and cherish this Andrei.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Man is a big boy all the way through, even below the belt. A good 7 inches and thicker than average. Circumcised with a beautiful rosey head, and 2 large veins running the length.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Man wants to go literally all the time. He has an inhuman sex drive. If you just tell him you want him Andrei drops everything and bends you over the nearest surface.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Andrei has a hard time sleeping and winding down. His active mind just will not stop, so he really enjoys just watching you sleep on his chest, being gentle with his hands along your body and in your hair. If you don't fall asleep very fast either now is the perfect time to talk with him, get stories of his missions, Russian folk tales, funny stories about his brothers in the military and brutal childhood. He just wants someone to share his pain and his love with at the end of the night. Run your hands along his scars and in his hair while you're at it and you will have tamed a wolf.

[sandsofoneiros]

The Senator

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the canon characters. However, those OCs belong to me. Will fight for them. This is the first part of the series and I know this isn't a lot but it'll grow as I write the other parts.

Warning: Sort of angsty. There's mentions of a panic/anxiety attack. Sensory overload.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC. (established friendship. they also hooked up before.)

Word count: 1780

I didn't tag anyone because I wasn't sure if anyone would want to be since this isn't a long part. So, let me know if you want to be tagged. This does follow after the Insomnia series that isn't really complete but you don't have to read it to read this. I also was lazy and linked the dress she was wearing. So, don't judge me.

Fingers trailed over the dress that was hung up. It was magnificent. She expected nothing less from her mother and aunt. If only her mom were here to see the gown that she had started all those years ago. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes continued to follow the patterns of her dress. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It wasn’t long ago that she had fought on Exegol alongside the other members of the Resistance. Her soul ached at the memory. They had lost that day. She recognizes the fear that she felt, and it had lessened none since she came back to Naboo. Her place was here now, she would fight from here now. Leaving the Resistance hadn’t been easy and was met with many protests from a few parties. However, they came around when she asserted her concerns about her home planet and the rest of the galaxy.

“A soldier turned senator. Never dreamed I would see the day.” The familiar voice of Kaydel caused Ro to spin around. She couldn’t believe that the other woman was here, given with how busy the Resistance was. It had been hard to keep in contact with them, and she feared it would become harder. It was rumored that Kylo and the Final Order had set their sights on Naboo.

“Kaydel! You made it!” The tears openly fell, and she rushed to embrace her best friend. It had been months since they had seen each other. She sniffled slightly as she held onto the other. Kaydel was one of her connections to the Resistance. The other one hadn’t spoken to her since she had left. That one had hurt the most.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world! You look well.”

Kaydel had pulled back from their hug and looked Ro over. Ro had to praise the ladies that had taken all morning preparing her hair and makeup. It wasn’t a lot, but it masked the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Coming home was wonderful, but sleep still eluded her. She hadn’t had a restful sleep in quite some time. She had avoided falling asleep. Too much took place in her dreams. They reiterated too many memories. Night after night of waking up from the horrors, she had relied on caf instead of sleep. It had grown into a routine. It was easier than facing the root of the problem.

“Thank you. It took the entire staff to make me this beautiful.”

Ro giggled before fiddling with the sash of her robe. The pit of tummy was stirring with excitement now that her best friend was here. The ceremony didn’t seem to be too bad now. She wouldn’t be alone. However, there was a question that rested at the back of her mind, but she did her best to ignore it.

“Go ahead. I know you want to ask about him.”

Ro bit her cheek. Nothing ever went past Kaydel Connix. She had been under General Organa and picked up all that she could. She even styled her hair like the former General, but all of them had. It was a way to honor Leia. It still hurt that they had lost her, and especially during this time. They needed her now more than ever, but she was gone. She had given them all the tools that they needed, but they all worried if they could do it. Sighing, she glanced back to her dress. Did she truly need to ask about General Dameron? Did she even have that right anymore? Things had changed now, and she wasn’t part of the Resistance anymore. Their time was over, or that’s what she told herself each night. Still, those nights and stolen hours were close to her heart.

“Has he jumped in an x-wing and blown anything up lately?”

This caused both the women to giggle as they made their way back towards the fore room. She wanted to spend some free time catching up with Kaydel. The ceremony was a few hours away, and she needed to settle her nerves. Sitting on the sectional couch, Ro waited to hear what her friend had to say.

“Well, we tried putting him at a desk, but you know Poe. He’s more of a man of action. He can’t remain still. He’s been flying to all the bases and checking in with them. Doing his finest to vex the Final Order. He’s tired. . . .”

That sounded like Poe. He was constantly moving. The pilot never knew when to stop, notably with saving the galaxy. He was constantly the one for the job. No one else could do it. Those moments where she roamed the base waiting on him to return from whatever mission he had gone on, the nightmares after being captured by the First Order, and the headaches that he neglected. It constantly drove his mind and body past the point of exhaustion. A never-ending cycle.

“Sounds like him.”

What more was there to say? Poe wouldn’t be here tonight, and she realized that. He was somewhere else, fighting. He was fighting for the galaxy and he didn’t have the time for some celebration, even if it was for her. They had merely been a fling. A means of releasing tension and stress during such a troublesome time. Although Ro couldn’t help that she had fallen for him. It had happened before she could even stop herself. It was difficult to identify when she had fallen for the pilot but one thing remained; she wasn’t over those feelings. She thought of him each day and night. Aurora would stare at the stars and wonder if he was flying up there. It was a dream that he might even be here tonight. Yet, there was nothing wrong with wishing.

“How are you and Thalia doing? I know the long distance has made her miss you more.”

Ro smirked as she teased her about the relationship she had with her little sister. She never witnessed a more loving pair. They supported one another. Thalia had remained in the Resistance to support Kaydel. Upon learning that Ro would be a Senator of Naboo, Thalia had come back to support her sister. She had even applied to be Ro’s assistant. Kaydel had supported the decision, but was adjusting to the distance. Thalia had picked up the position with no trouble and had Ro on the right track. Never overwhelming her with meetings and making sure she actually had breaks. She had been the one in charge of sending the message about her ceremony.

“Well, she made sure that I didn’t leave the room this morning until she said.”

A small piece of Ro envied that. Ro listened as Kaydel filled her in on all the details about Resistance projects. Projects that she would try to help with funding. She informed her that Finn and Rose would arrive later. Rey was training for when she had to face Kylo again. But Ro had little faith in the Jedi anymore. She had insisted there was good in that man, Ro had never heard such bantha shit in her life but held her tongue. That was Leia and Han’s son, but there was no light. Nothing could persuade Ro otherwise.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

“Stop messing with your hair, Senator.” The youthful queen, Seraphina, teased as she slid her arm through Ro’s. The queen had just turned fifteen, and Ro couldn’t imagine how she was handling all this. Her hands kept fumbling with the curls that they had styled her burgundy waves into. This night was for her and she had done her best to speak to everyone that Thalia told her would be important. However, the queen had swept her around the room and introduced her to virtually everyone. Ro thought Seraphina thought of her as an older sister. She had plenty of practice with Thalia.

“Forgive me, m’lady. Nerves.” Ro spoke before peering around the room. Hoping to catch the sight of dark curls or see a dazzling smile. Instead, she watched people dancing and chatting amongst each other. Even in this crowded room with some of her friends, she felt more lonely than usual.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. One of the other senators has shown interest. His name is Ignis. I think you might be close in age. I wouldn’t get too comfortable with him. He’s sly.” Seraphina spoke as she gave a nod to the man that Ro assumed was Ignis. He was tall and lean with golden blond hair that was long and braided over his shoulder. She had recalled meeting him when she had first met with the Queen. He and the others had interviewed her for what seemed like hours.

Ro let out an unsteady breath as she thought of being in that room and having to answer so many questions. Her chest felt stiff, and the music was only getting louder. Everything was growing louder. Her breathing was becoming strained, and she barely could excuse herself from Seraphina. Her vision was blurring. Everything was moving in slow motion and she felt sick to her stomach. She needed to leave this ball room! Tears were building up as she pressed past everyone, but it only brought her to another sea of bodies. She just needed out!

Bursting through a set of doors, she made her way to the balcony and felt her skin prickle at the coolness of the air. The noise from the party was dull now, and she thought she could breathe again. A curse slipped from her lips as she collected herself.

“Five things you can see, Ro. One, the moon, Two, the garden below the balcony. Three, the waterfalls. Four, the lights of the city.” Before she could speak the last number, someone cut her off.

“Five, Poe Dameron.”

The voice made her spin around and emerging from the shadows was in fact General Poe Dameron. His arms spread wide, and it took her no time before she was rushing into his arms. The collision caused him to take a step back before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. His hand cradling the back of her head as he held her tight to him, scared if he let go she would run away.

“You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, babe.”

[crimeronan]

ik youre not a therapist and i dont want like therapy or anything but im 17 and ive known i was bipolar for 3 years now and i dont know how im supposed to live the rest of my life like this. im so fucking tired. how do you stay alive

you sent this a couple days ago & i’m posting at a weird time so i’m not sure if you’ll see it but.  

i’ve been looking at this message trying to decide how to respond

because i don’t know your situation, your symptoms, how you’re feeling, whether you’ve had positive or negative experiences with medication, psychiatrists, therapists, hospitals, all that related shit

the bipolar life advice i give to people is vastly different depending on the individual. it’s not a one size fits all thing.  and there’s never even a guarantee that my advice will be the right choice

so since i don’t know about your situation or experiences or what you want, i’m not gonna tell you what to do.  i’m gonna focus on the “how do you stay alive” question and try to pen down some personal feelings. and if they help then great, and if they don’t then... this is the most honest i can be

(you can always ask another question to get a better answer. my inbox is a coin slot and i am a vending machine of varied-degrees-of-helpfulness replies offered at varied-inconvenient-too-long-intervals)

-

how do i stay alive

it’s a 2-parter, actually.  i pondered how to condense my thoughts/feelings, and it came down to these two things

1. love 2. spite

-

1. love

the spite is easier to write about than the love.  love is hard to reach when i feel like shit.

spite is where i go when i want to die.  love is where i go when i want to want to live.

maybe i don’t want to be alive.  but maybe i wish i did.  spite doesn’t help me much there.  spite keeps me afloat, but it doesn’t make the floating pleasurable.  there’s more to life than outlasting everything that ever hurt me.  i need a reason to continue when there’s no enemy to fight

so. love

i almost wrote about the spite alone because that’s rawer, realer, more visceral.  that’s the shit that CONNECTS when everything feels hopeless.  but it would be a lie of omission.  spite is only one of the major food groups, you’ll waste away from malnutrition if you eat it for every meal. or at least, i will.

“so you’ve got a bunch of people you love,” you say, “and you stick around for them.  cry on them.  support each other.  like each other.  fine.”  you’ve heard this story before

nah.

i mean - yes.  i have people i love.  i live with two partners, i’ve got a third girlfriend, i’ve got a long-distance platonic life partner.  i have a support net, i have a family i’ve forged, i have confidence that i’m not alone.  i have, in a bare-bones checklist sort of way, fulfilled my physiological human need for connection

but i could live without every single one of them.  i’m not dependent upon any of them for my survival.  i’m not dependent upon them for love, given or received.  (this isn’t a callous cruelty, it won’t hurt them if/when they read this.  i’ve told them all this, they know.  they’re glad of it.)

so.  what the fuck does “love” mean, then?

the short explanation is that it’s my love of life, of things in the world.  it’s all the little connections i’ve made.  every time i love something, a hook tethers to the universe.  hook enough tethers, and i no longer feel the need to float away.  no dissolution of self today, sir

the rest of this section is some of the things i love. partially it’s to show how i connect to little things and ascribe magic to the mundane.  partially it’s because i like thinking about things i love, i like typing them out, and i like that i could keep going for thousands and thousands of words.

i am laying in bed at 7:30 AM with the lights off and the shades drawn.  blue  light comes through the slats because it’s the better time of year, the one where i finally get vitamin D, the one where the birds chirp at 4AM, the one where the sky isn’t impenetrably black til 10PM.

there’s a weighted blanket tucked around my legs.  my partner rafi bought it for us to share because it’s soothing and heavy and comforting and helps with my physical pain.  right now it’s soft on my skin and if i get too emotional as i write, i can pull it over me like a cloak until i’m settled.

the apartment’s walls are blank because we’ve spent eight months intending to put art up and keep forgetting.  but there’s a newly-unearthed dining area in the kitchen because i finally shifted around the unpacked boxes that were dominating the space.  it’s new and it surprises me every time i walk out there.  it’s open and inviting and bright and it’s a sign that we’re making this place home.

we’ll put a cheap IKEA table by the window and we’ll probably never eat family dinners there - why would we sit in hard chairs and make stiff conversation when we could all cuddle on the couch - but my partner dev will create a place to do their art and the surface will be constantly littered with drying watercolor experiments.

we’ll hang our art one of these days, too, when our collective adhd offers a miraculous combo of remembering + having time + having motivation + having inspiration.  rafi has the most art because they’ve been collecting it for years.  i have to start smaller.  i’m not used to keeping physical objects.  dev has a few pieces thrifted or bought at local artist events or painted themselves

so we’ll put art up in the living room, my single “you are magic” flower print alongside a naked monster lady that dev fell in love with when we browsed art at a yuletide event months ago, alongside rafi’s monster girls and comic characters and book characters and literature art and quotes and abstract pieces and whatever else they have hiding in boxes.

my head protests that naked monster ladies do not belong in the living room, although the picture isn’t overtly sexual.  but then i remember that they do, actually, because it’s our space and we can do whatever we want with it as long as the lease isn’t broken.  there isn’t anyone in the local social circles who’d be perturbed by the decor, as far as i know.  i don’t have to hide anything from my parents because i live 3600 miles from them, and even though i miss my mom, the distance is good for me

there are two exquisite chairs on the porch.  they fold and recline from thrones to nearly-horizontal beds.  there are pillows and cupholders and trays and specific spaces for both a book and a phone.  i can sit there while the morning sun rises and read or play word games or browse tumblr, cup of coffee beside me, trees shielding my eyes from stabby sunbeams

there are remnants of the last tenant’s garden in one corner of the yard.  we’ve done fuckall for yardwork but plants struggle through anyway.  some seem to have sprouted by accident.  mushroom clusters populate the edges of the fence.  the apartment squirrel (there are probably several, but i like to think it’s a single energetic creature) runs back and forth along the fence & i always lose my train of thought & then laugh my ASS off at the “SQUIRREL! XD” adhd moment.  birds kick up leaf litter and play on the ground looking for insects to eat, they wiggle their tail feathers and flap their wings and sometimes they disappear and then return with friends

a little more than eleven months ago, i packed all of dev’s and my shit into a uhaul and drove and drove and drove to get to this city i’d never been in before to live with a partner i’d never cohabitated with.  we were homeless for more than a month, we weathered some financial disasters, we met some great people and some shitty ones

on the drive i fell in love with the sky.  i didn’t know how big it can get - actually, that’s a lie.  i’d FORGOTTEN how big it can get.  i’ve loved the sky thirty miles out to sea, no land in sight in any direction, just blue water and blue space above.  i’ve loved the vastness and the yawning beneath me and the knowledge that everything is BIGGER than i can fathom.  the depth of the sea doesn’t frighten me, it’s home. i don’t want to die, but if i had to, the ocean makes a soothing grave

in north dakota i discovered that i’ve been partially blind my whole life, which is a different tale that showed me i’ll never stop learning myself.  in montana we struggled up thousands of feet of mountains with the car huffing and puffing at the trailer’s weight, and when we finally coasted downward, it felt like sudden freefall.  we ended up in the pitch darkness of night on sheer winding interstates with midnight construction projects forcing detours.  the mountains felt hungry, they had teeth.  mountain cliffs are much scarier to me than the ocean depths

i bought a red bull and poured a little out the driver’s side door as an offering to hermes, because i’m not particularly religious but i’ll take help where i can get it.  slammed that back in a few gulps and shook to bright-eyed alertness and ended up behind a slow-driving red pickup truck that guided us over about a hundred miles of mountain terrain

i thought, that’s just some construction worker driving between sites.  the roads are empty at this time of night, but it’s an interstate.  of course we’d end up behind someone.  this isn’t divine intervention.  this isn’t the benevolence of a god

i thought, but it can be a little magic.  if i want it to be.  

and it was.  it stays with me.

god help me but i’ve been writing this stream of consciousness for more than 30 minutes and i’ve said nothing.  i haven’t talked about the city, the parks, the people, the conversations, the books, the tv shows, the movies, the communities, the library, the animals, writing, reading, singing, acting, swimming, analyzing, creating, supporting, building.  and i can keep going.  i can come up with hundreds and hundreds of things i love and i can write paragraphs about all of them

so i’ll stop here.  you get the picture.  love is the life i’ve made for myself, the surroundings i’ve built, the quiet moments i can capture, the inspiration i pin, the magic i commit to memory.

i had to work so damn hard for every single bit of this.

i’ll be fucking damned if i let it go because my brain tried to trick me into thinking death is better.

-

2. spite

there are people who want me to die.

i don’t mean that i have a giant entourage of personalized enemies who curse my name and plan my individual demise.  although there have been plenty of people who have not liked me much.  probably some of them would enjoy my death.  i don’t give a shit about that

there are people who want me dead because i am a dot on a grid they dislike.  a faceless anonymous enemy who meets too many bad criteria with numbers and percentages and shrinking majorities and shifting public opinion

because i’m gay.  because i’m bipolar.  because i’m autistic.  because i’m a dropout.  because i grew up poor.  because my spine curves and my shoulders ache.  because i squandered my potential, because i didn’t have enough potential, because i didn’t love god enough, because i love the wrong gods, because i don’t worship, because i worship wrong, because i didn’t seek a husband, because i never wanted one, because i talk too much, because i can’t be controlled, because i chose to leave the fold when i realized it was suffocating me, because i’m ugly, because i’m gorgeous, because my body belongs to me

pick your poison.

this bothered me growing up, a lot. i knew i did not deserve to die. but if enough people tell you that you should, a little part of you will wonder if they’re right.  that little part might become bigger the closer they get and the louder they shout and the longer they wear you down

we know the rough shape of this story, i don’t need to tell it.  mine was messy and not triumphant and i survived more by chance than premeditation.

i’m older now.  by and large i’m still young as shit - i’m 24 - but GOD i am LEAGUES away from 15, 16, 17. i know who i am. i know what i want. i know how to get it. and when i don’t know that, i find out. i tell the truth.  i ask for what i want.  i use my time how i want.  i do what i want.

there are days that i can’t access the “love” side of the equation.  no finding poetry in birdsong or sugared coffee for me, thank you, i feel like shit and the world is awful and everything is too big and fast and cruel and everything wants me to die and it wants everything i love to die, too.  everyone i love.  it’s all garbage. the good doesn’t touch me

trauma is difficult to describe.  the difficulty is compounded by the fact that my trauma is influenced by my various neurodivergences, bipolar included.  i never know if i’m feeling what other people do.  i don’t know if i’m voicing unpalatable feelings others are afraid to express - or if i’m just othering myself, admitting i’m not as human as everyone else.

there is something malevolent and monstrous inside me.  i don’t touch it all the time.  but i don’t pretend it isn’t there.  it sits in my chest and molders or radiates or oozes.  it presses at my throat.  it curdles in my stomach.  it hurts what it touches, whether that’s me or someone i love or someone i hate.  it sets things aflame with no regard for the precious or the fragile.  it tears down walls and razes shelters and begs for apocalyptic rain.

i can give this thing names, clinical descriptors.  i know what it is on a diagnostic chart, in a ponderous article, in an academic debate, in a fiction novel, in a war movie, in a memoir.  there are a thousand ways to describe this thing.  the descriptors aren’t important.  what is important is this - i have learned that most people do not walk side-by-side with a tornado-hurricane-hellfire-weaponized-open-nuclear-reactor.  this is not a “normal” expression of human emotion, this is not me trying to ascribe power to “bad bipolar feelings.”  this thing lives in me and i know why it’s there and it is not designed to be held/silenced/muzzled/controlled by my body.

it does not help to pretend this thing does not exist.  it does not help to try to reason it away or ignore it or tell it to stop.  it wants what it wants, it does what it does.  possibly if i was better at therapy or stubbornness then i wouldn’t resign myself to that

but it is fucking EXHAUSTING to try to fight something that’s part of me.  to try to reshape it, rename it, pare it down, make it consumable for the masses.  it’s a war i have never won and it’s a war that i will lose if i keep fighting it.  i cannot fight with myself.  i cannot beat my monster into submission.  if we’re gonna battle like that, head to head, me trying to cut it down, me trying to be the hero, it rearing back like a fire-breathing dragon,

then it’s stronger.  it’s always stronger.

so i surrender.

but that’s not where i stop.

can’t fight it.  can’t kill it.  can’t muzzle it.  can’t reshape it, can’t disarm it, can’t contain it.  

alright.  

so what now.

if the surrender was a full giving-up, this is where i’d passively accept that i’m doomed to hurt and destroy everything precious to me.  can’t fix it.  will lose everything, will never experience or deserve happiness, will make the world worse simply by existing.

that sure does sound like impending-doom rhetoric.  hop skip and a jump from some dire-ass conclusions.  

so fuck that, i say. 

here’s a better question.

if it has to get out, then what happens if i control where it goes?

here’s the thing.

the monster doesn’t care what it kills or destroys or hurts.  

“have a conscience, care about things, remember love, stop yourself, don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this.” 

 losing battle.  lost war.

 it’s not the monster’s fault.  the monster doesn’t have complex motivations or hates or fears.  it exists to protect me through scorched earth.  a remnant of a chemical imbalance, maladaptive coping mechanism, bipolar crazy, traumatized injury.  it doesn’t know that its job is obsolete.

i can’t change the monster.

but my mind is a separate thing.  my mind knows what matters, what my priorities are, what i find precious, what i want to protect.  my mind remembers all the things the monster doesn’t.  

my mind has learned things the monster can’t.

when i fight it head-on, the malevolence is stronger than me.  but as i am, walking with it, sitting in my bed writing this while examining the void and the consciousness, describing it, quantifying it,

that’s when i’m stronger.

and with my mind as the stronger force, i can decide where the monster goes.  what it touches.  what it destroys.  what it burns.  where the ashes land.

i do not want to be a destructive person.  i want to be someone who builds, repairs, changes.  i want to make the world better for kids like me.  i want to stop pouring more gasoline onto a fire that’s been burning since long before i was born.  i want to believe - i do believe - that positive change is better than negative.  i do my best to plant good things and enact that positive change instead of becoming a beacon of wrath.

but there are a lot of kids surrounded by people who want them to die, and not all of them have a protective monster.

so it’s good.

when i’m depressed, my mind loses its battles.  my cognizance slips.  i forget why i care.  i forget what i want.  i forget how happiness feels, how to find pleasure in quiet moments.  

i don’t get depressed as often as i used to since my meds are adjusted correctly now.  but it still happens.  it will keep happening for the rest of my life.

my mind weakens and curls up and stops fighting, and the monster is always there.

it’s a very powerful thing when it wants to be.

it wants to survive.

the thing is, it knows there are people that want me/us/whatever dead.  it’s been fighting them forever.  die like they want?  my mind says, sure, what does it matter.

the monster says, nah.  our work isn’t done.  and fuck them, anyway.

so we get up.

-

so that’s how i stay alive.

i typed this for 90 minutes and after editing i’d spent two hours on this post.  i don’t know if anyone will read it all.  i don’t know if it’ll mean anything.  i don’t know if these thoughts even make sense, much less if i’ve conveyed the feelings i have.

i love being alive.  and when i don’t, i love being a monster.  it’s good.  all of it is good.  i’ve reconciled my uglier pieces.  it’s not one or the other, love or spite.  it’s symbiosis.  i need both, i love both.

no guarantees that this is helpful, but based purely on my own life experience, these are my tips for survival:

you’ll have to find your own roots.  i can’t give them to you.  

but it’s possible to dig them in and spread them far enough that one uprooted peg doesn’t shift your whole equilibrium.  

and when you’re tired, rest, and let yourself be tired, and find the reason why you’re staying in the world. 

 i’m positive there’s at least one.

figure out why you’re losing your battles and then change the game.

if you can’t win one setup, don’t try to beat the system.  adjust your strategy.

you’ll be surprised by what you can love when you stop fighting the disparate pieces of you, and instead figure out how to use them.

[evil-ice-princess]

Breathe Me In

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Main Character (unnamed) 

♡ Description: You attend a party in Beverly Hills where you reunite with your enemy, Jungkook. 

♡ Genre: Romance 

♡ Warning: Descriptions of hella making out (lol), implied sex, underage drinking, cursing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯   

♡ Word count: 5419 

You were the good girl. Friday nights consisted of doing AP homework instead of getting drunk with your friends. Your grades were stellar. You held numerous leadership positions, and you were on the varsity tennis team. Any of the Ivies would drop on their knees to accept you. Of course, you weren’t thinking about school all the time. God, it would be social suicide to be a nerd. Those kids…were weird. You lived in Beverly Hills after all. Shopping at Louis Vuitton with your girlfriends. Eating at Nobu and Katsuya every other week. It was the norm. You had even had your fair share of hooking up with a few boys, but most of them sucked. You would think the boys at Harvard Westlake would be pretty decent, but your experiences proved otherwise. They would kiss you, and the next second wanted you to be their girlfriend. You just wanted the pleasure, you didn’t need all the boyfriend shit. And honestly their kissing wasn’t stellar either. But, all that changed on the first night of summer.

♡~♡~♡

“You coming to Jungkook’s party tonight?” Adrianna asks me as she begins to reapply her vibrant red lipstick. I look up from my AP U.S. History textbook, bewildered.

“You know my parents would kill me,” I reply. “And Jungkook Jeon? What an ass.”

“It’s the first day of summer! What the hell do you even have to study tonight?!” Naomi exclaims, continuing to text her boyfriend, Ethan, on her phone.  “And Jungkook? Damn, if I didn’t have Ethan, I would sooo hook up with him.” She looks up from her phone glancing at her girl friends. “You so did not hear me say that,” she quickly says and then looks back down at her phone. Everyone laughs, including me.

“I don’t know…I mean I would go, but my parents…” I trail off. “I’ll ask I guess,” I mumble. The girls cheer, and I smile. I mean…it’s the first day of summer. Would my parents really make me stay in? 

♡~♡~♡

“Absolutely not!” my father exclaims, incredulously. 

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s Jungkook’s party. You like him, don’t you?” I reply. His parents are super close friends with my parents, but whenever Jungkook would come over I would just lock myself in my room saying I had way too much homework to do. 

“Yes, but --”

“Soooo, you can trust me not to do anything bad. Jungkook’s sooo nice, too. Please, it’s the first day of summer,” I beg.

“No. You have to start writing college admissions essays, don’t you?” “I have five months, Dad! Please!”

“If your father says no, then the answer is no,” my mother replies. I bite my lip from uttering something that I would regret. God, they sicken me. I do every damn thing they want, yet they won’t let me do one little thing. “Fine. Can I at least go to the library to write the essays? Mom, you can even drop me off,” I ask, a plan forming in my head. 

She looks at my dad, but he just scowls and walks away. Typical. “Fine, but I’ll pick you up at 11:30 PM.” 

“Thank you,” I reply. I walk to my room and immediately enter my walk-in closet. What to wear, what to wear? I pull open a drawer and look through the vast collection of lingerie I had secretly bought with my friends. I decide to wear a beautiful strapless black lace bra with matching underwear. Why not? I think. It’s not every damn day I dress up. I throw on a navy blue crewneck I had bought during a college campus visit at Columbia and put some leggings on. I then go through all my dresses and pick a strappy lace-y black romper. Searching through my shoes I finally find my dazzling black Gucci heels adorned with diamonds and grab a silver necklace with a single pearl. It was a gift Jungkook’s parents had actually given me for my sixteenth birthday, and it happened to be my favorite necklace. I hook the necklace around my neck and hide it beneath my sweater. I put the romper and heels at the bottom of my backpack and fill a small makeup bag with the essentials I need. I am going to that damn party. 

I text Adrianna quickly: Ade, pick me up from the library at 6 please? 

Adrianna: sure whatever ly ❤

I smirk to myself as I walk out of my room. I look plain. No makeup on my face. Hair in a messy bun. Leggings and a crewneck sweatshirt. No one would suspect I was planning to go to the hottest party of the summer. It is 4:30. I had a lot of time to kill at the library. “Mother! I’m ready!” I call, annoyed. 

Moments later, I am in my mother’s Porsche, and she silently drives me to the Beverly Hills Public Library. It was a fifteen minute drive, and I wave goodbye to her as soon as she pulls up in front of the library. At that moment, I feel the slightest bit of guilt. I tried to not break the rules too often, but this party…it was calling me. AP Exams were done. I know I got all 5s. All my SATs and Subject Tests were done. 1500+ of course. All my finals went well. I deserve this party. “Hey mom? I love you,” I say, and that makes me feel a little bit better for my lying. She gives a soft smile. I turn away walking towards the library before it becomes a sappy moment. 

I open my laptop and go to Netflix to turn on my favorite TV show at the moment, Beverly Hills, 90210. I immerse myself within the characters’ drama, and as I watch Kelly kiss another boy, I somehow wish my life is as interesting as theirs. Naomi has her boyfriend, Ethan. Adrianna, a growing actress, gets to be practically anyone else she wanted with all the roles she is receiving. Silver is constantly making films and blogging. Even Annie’s, the principal’s daughter, life seems more interesting than mine. I sit there sulking at this fact while watching the show for a while when a text pops up. 

Jimin: u comin to the party 2nite

I sit up suddenly interested. Jimin has no reason to text me…unless maybe he wanted to…do some things. I quickly type back a yes. 

Jimin: cant wait ;)

I ponder over his texts. He is the typical fuckboy material. Hooking up with girls and leaving them when they least expect it. Do I want that? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. But I think back to the time we had made out at his beach house a few summers ago…he wasn’t as bad as the rest of the boys either when it came to all that. Maybe he could be the perfect summer fling, and when school started we could break it off. Being alone is good enough for me. Adrianna finally arrives at the library at 6:13 PM, and I jump into the passenger seat as she begins to drive home. 

“Damn, that outfit is definitely going to impress the boys,” she says, looking at my lazy outfit. 

“Yep, this bitch is definitely getting it tonight.” I point at myself making a weird face. We laugh, and it feels good. Good to be away from my parents. From school. 

Soon we are in her house, and within fifteen minutes our friends are all here. Annie and Silver lie on Adrianna’s bed gossipping while Naomi applies makeup. Adrianna straightens her hair, and I strip myself of my boring clothes. She glances at me and a devilish smile appears on her face. “Now that’s going to impress some boys,” she says, admiring my lingerie set. 

“Thanks,” I say while putting on the romper. It hugs me in all the right places. Just the right amount of cleavage and legs. I turn around in the mirror, realizing people would be able to see my bra. Dammit, I forgot this was a backless romper. 

“Oh, honey, you should definitely take the bra off.” Naomi says. I expertly unclasp the bra and throw it at her. “Hey!” she squeals. What seems like just seconds is a couple of hours. By the time we are all done gossipping, giggling, and getting ready it is 10 PM. I walk out of the bathroom and twirl around for the girls. 

“What do you think?” I ask, winking. 

“Hot, hot, hot,” Silver exclaims. Along with the low-cut black romper I paired it with the sparkling Gucci heels and pearl necklace. I kept my makeup to a minimal. A bit of foundation. A little blush. Some mascara and eyeliner. My lips painted with a glittery gloss. My perfectly curled hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and overall, I portray the typical rich Beverly Hills girl. 

Because Jungkook’s house is just a few houses down from Adrianna’s, we walk to the big mansion. My eyes widen as I absorb the beauty of his house. God, he really has it all. He has it all except for a nice personality. 

We enter the home, and everyone separates to different aspects of the party. Naomi to Ethan. Silver and Annie towards the food. And Adrianna towards the party games. So that leaves me. Alone. At a party. A waiter passes by, holding a few different cocktails, and I take a pink-colored one. I want to explore every inch of this grand palace. Jungkook is lucky. He is lucky as hell. Something told me I would be coming back to his house, so I know I will have a lot of other opportunities to see his mansion. I decide to go out to the backyard. This was not a typical backyard though with some uneven grass and a little pool. This is Beverly Hills after all. An infinity pool is placed on the edge, looking out towards the sparkling lights of Los Angeles. Downtown is clearly in view. People are swimming in the pool and seem content. There are a few outdoor couches spread out, and a little mini bar station serving a plethora of alcoholic drinks and sophisticated appetizers. 

I spot Jimin with Jungkook, who happen to be best friends, and his eye catches mine. His lips begin to smile, and I can see his eyes rake over my body. I remember how he did that last time; my cheeks grow warm, and I head back inside. Jungkook does not turn around to see what his friend is staring so intently at.

Practically every room is filled with people. In such a big home, I expected there would be an empty room, but no. After ten minutes of searching, I am finally able to find an isolated living room. A half empty bottle of champagne sits on the glass table, and I pour myself the remnants into my glass. Maybe I was bored, or maybe I unconsciously wanted to get drunk, either way, I just could not stop drinking. I fish my iPhone out of my pocket and see a few text messages from my parents asking how my essays are coming along. Fuck them. A bunch of snapchat notifications are on my phone, and I see Jimin had sent me one. Seven minutes ago. It is a blurry selfie of himself, and he had captioned it “where r u”. I don’t reply. 

Suddenly, a voice says, “So, she finally decided to show up,” My head whips around, and I see Jungkook standing there looking down at me, an empty champagne glass in his right hand, and another bottle in the other. He sports a classic dark suit, and he has a single black stud in his ear. Typical bad boy look. “What are you doing all alone?” he teases, as he takes a seat right next to me on the plush couch. I don’t say anything. The side of his body presses against mine, and I tense up. “I was looking for you.” he says, and I look at him, a mixture of disgust and curiosity on my face. 

“Go away, Jungkook,” I say, turning away from him. I did not want to see his face. I hate him.

“C’mon. You don’t talk to me anymore, and I don’t even know why.”

“You know exactly why,” I snap, and I turn to look at him. I am unable to read his expression. 

“I don’t know,” he protests, and he pours a glass of champagne for himself. He tips the bottle towards me, and I hold out my glass to have him fill it up. 

“Why does it matter anyway?” I ask. 

“Because every time I go to your house you shut me out. I’m stuck sitting with your and my parents listening to them talk about whatever shit they always talk about. You just did it for no reason, and all I want to know is why.”

“Dammit, Jungkook. You slept with one of my best friends after telling me you loved me. Gee, I definitely don’t have ANY reason to be mad at you right?” 

He looks hurt, but he knows it is true. “You didn’t say anything to me! You just looked at me and left! I…I didn’t know what to do. Did you think I would just wait for you forever?”

“I liked you, and you couldn’t even wait. I had to think things through!” My words are faltering. Why did I reject him? I was probably scared. Scared to get into a relationship. Scared of the emotional attachment that comes with dating. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Clearly, we have different people in our lives anyway.” I justify, thinking about how Jimin had smiled at me earlier. And I know Jungkook probably has someone else too. I shift my body towards him, and his gaze makes me want him. I want him even though I despise him. The tension between us heightens as we both look at each other. I avert my eyes away from him and quickly change the topic. “So. What’s the point of throwing these big parties anyway?” I ask, taking a sip of the champagne. 

“To let go. To feel less alone,” he curtly replies, downing his glass of champagne and pouring another. How many glasses had he already drank? He pushes his hair back and exhales. “What about you?” 

“Same reason, I guess.”

“How are your parents doing…?” he asks tentatively. 

“They’re pretending as if nothing is wrong. He fucking cheated on her, and she doesn’t do anything.” I don’t know why I’m telling him about my personal problems, but it’s not like any of my friends would listen. We had to portray ourselves as perfect girls who did not have any worries. We were supposed to be who everyone looked up to. It feels invigorating telling him my problems. 

He sighs. “I’m sorry,” I can tell he means it. Maybe he is different from every other rich Californian boy here. So maybe he screwed up once…but he still seemed like the sweet boy I knew. “Obviously, you can tell from all this that my parents still don’t give a shit about what the hell I do,” he mutters taking another swig of the champagne. 

“Can’t be that bad to have parents who don’t care, can it?”

“Well, think about it this way. If my parents actually cared, do you think I would throw these parties? Would I be hooking up with girls in hopes to have them stop me? God, you would think me having done drugs a few times would have made them notice.”

I sit up, having never thought about it that way. 

“Is it some sort of requirement for the rich kids to have shitty parents?” 

He scoffs. “Guess so.”

We sit in silence for a heartbeat, leaning into each other both of us afraid to do or say anything.

“I miss you.” he says suddenly. I know he is thinking about the times we had laughed in the basement of his beach house while watching movies. The times he would help me with my math homework. They were good memories, but that didn’t change anything now. I shift away.

“Jungkook, just stop. Nothing changes between us just because we both have shitty parents. It can’t take away what you did to me.”

“What was I supposed to do? I waited for you, and you made it pretty clear you didn’t feel the same way.”

“You didn’t give me enough time -– you know what, we’re not talking about this again. I’m done.” I stand up to leave. “I thought you were different, but you’re just as bad as every other boy here.”

“I thought you were different too, but you’re here drinking champagne on my couch, so obviously you aren’t who I thought you were either.” He pauses, taking another sip of his champagne. He smirks up at me. “You’re exactly like me.”

My jaw drops. “Fuck you, Jungkook. I’m nothing like you.” 

As I walk away, I hear him faintly say, “Wait…” I ignore him and storm away. Hoping to find my friends, I climb up the flight of stairs angrily, when I bump into none other than Jimin. The perfect distraction. “Hey,” I coolly initiate. 

He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Soo…where were you heading?” I ask. A couple scooches past us to go down the stairs. 

“Oh, y’know. I was going to see where Jungkook was, but, I suppose that could wait.” 

I smile feeling satisfaction. He is exactly what I need. A distraction. 

We climb up the rest of the stairs together, and when we reach the main floor I spot a pool table. Adrianna and Carter, an attractive brown-haired boy, are playing, and I lead Jimin over. “Wanna play in teams?” I ask, and they agree. Adrianna eyes Jimin and mouths ‘nice.’ I mouth back ‘same to you.’ We all play for awhile, and I completely forget about the argument I had with Jungkook. Jimin’s hand is on my waist as he guides me on how to properly hit the ball. 

Soon, more people arrive at the table, and Jimin whispers in my ear, “Let’s get out of here.” I oblige, and he leads me to a gorgeous room. The walls are painted a beautiful black and the ceiling a light grey color. From the ceiling hangs a small black chandelier. A plush black carpet is placed on top of the dark wooden floor. The bed is pushed up against the wall, a white silk bedspread on top of it along with a few burgundy and black throw pillows. It is absolutely insane how beautiful the bedroom is. I take a guess that this must be Jungkook’s parents’ bedroom. And I do not give a shit that we were about to ruin it. Jimin pulls me onto the bed, and his lips brush against mine. We both sit there for a while, kissing slowly. 

As his kissing gets more intense, Jimin slowly begins to push me into a lying position on the bed, when suddenly the door bursts open. Thinking it is one of my friends or some drunk guy, I continue to kiss Jimin hoping the person will realize the room is clearly occupied and will leave. 

“What the actual fucking hell,” a voice hisses. Jimin pulls away, and we both sit up. Jungkook’s eyes are fixed on me. Jimin looks like he couldn’t give less of a shit. 

Jimin stands up, clearing his throat. “Sorry bro. I thought you wouldn’t mind me using your room. Clearly not,” he remarks. His voice indicates no empathy. No shame. I realize I should have known this was Jungkook’s room. Who else would want a completely black room? I bite my lip from laughing at Jimin’s comment. Jungkook deserves to be hurt. Without any more words being said, Jungkook forces a smile, indicating Jimin should leave. He figures and begins walking out the door when he questioningly looks back at me still sitting on the bed.

“I’ll be out in a few…” I say. He nods.

I wanted to oh-so-badly make a few witty remarks. Make him hurt more than he already is. The second Jimin leaves the room, Jungkook closes the door quietly and locks it. 

“Are you fucking serious? Jimin Park?” Jungkook exclaims.

“Just call it getting even,” I retort. His eyes are set ablaze by anger. His hand clenching into a fist. Although I don’t want to admit it, it’s hot. Hot as hell to see him getting angry. Getting jealous. 

“With Jimin? That’s some serious class you got there,” he replies. I stop smiling.

“Are you saying you have class? Because damn, that’s clearly shown when you fucked my best friend.” I stand up from his bed, and heels clicking on the wooden floor, I brush past him, but he grabs my wrist, holding it tightly. 

He steps closer until his body is right behind mine. “I am not like every other boy here,” he breathes into my ear, and I close my eyes, my mind begging to taste his lips. Leave him. Go find Jimin. Now. Leave him, leave him, leave him. Why am I not leaving?

“Jungkook…you’re drunk,” I whisper. We’re both drunk. Drunk on the idea of a possible romance. A possible rekindling of the fire we had almost once had. 

“Are you telling me you don’t like this?” His hand glazes up the side of my body. His finger playing with the black strap of my romper. He pulls away all contact, and I am left wanting more. I want to turn around and kiss him. But I am too prideful to give in. 

I don’t answer him. I hate him. God, he is the epitome of high confidence. Goddamn, why did he have to be so fucking attractive? I hate him so so so much. He is just like every other rich Californian boy. Just wanting to hook up and nothing more. Right? Right? Right?! Maybe it was because I drank too much champagne or the fact I just wanted to let go, but I shake my head no. No, I don’t like this. I love this. He is ruining me, and he loves it. And I love it too. It is the first night of summer. I want to be someone else. Not the person who is expected to study all the time. God, I need him. 

I turn to face him, and he has a smirk on his face. “You think you can break me, but you can’t.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he whispers lowly, looking down at my lips.  “Well, you can’t break me either.” Why do we both have to be so proud? Goddammit, I want him, but I won’t give in. I won’t give in. Maybe if I keep telling that to myself I wouldn’t give into his temptations. My heels click away from him, and I open the door. 

“Bye, Jungkook,” I wink at him. He looks pissed. Pissed as fuck. 

By this point I do not know where Jimin had gone off to. He probably had gone off with some other girl after witnessing the rising tension between Jungkook and I. It doesn’t matter though because Jungkook and I were the sealed fate for tonight. Whether he knew it or not, one of us would eventually give in. And that would be him. I check what time it is on my phone, and it is 12:17 AM. Some people are leaving, but c’mon, the party had only started 2 hours ago. 

Adrianna, Annie, and Naomi are lying back on a couch outside, their long, slender legs placed on top of the glass table. They look like they are the queens of the party. Annie and Naomi shift over to give me room in the middle. 

“Heard you hooked up with Jimin,” Naomi comments. 

“We just made out. Jungkook kind of interrupted us before anything could really happen.” I reply. Should I tell them about what happened after Jimin left? 

“And?” Naomi presses.

“I don’t know. Jimin left, so…yeah.” My mind wanders back to thinking about Jungkook’s touch. His cold fingers grazing up my arm. His breathing next to my ear driving me insane. Stop thinking about it. Annie studies me carefully. She understands me better than Naomi and Adrianna. She rarely spread rumors nor liked being in the center of attention.

“Let’s go get some drinks,” she finally says. “We’ll be back in a few,” she says to the girls. We stand up, heading inside. The air is cold inside making me shiver. 

“Please spill.”

I give her the general details, nothing…too graphic. 

“Ohmygod. Why are you not with him right now?!”

“Because…we’re in a competition,” I mumble sheepishly, realizing how stupid it is. We are seventeen year olds playing little kid games. 

“What��?” 

“We’retryingtoseehowlongwecanstayawayfromeachother,” I say really fast, embarrassed. 

“I swear to God. You are this close to getting with the hottest guy in the grade, and you’re…avoiding him? For a little competition? You’re literally crazy!” she exclaims incredulously. 

“Annnnnnnie, you don’t get it,” I insist. 

“All I’m hearing is that both of you are too damn proud to be the first one to admit you like each other.”

“I don’t like him.” But I do.

“You keep telling yourself that, but c’moooon. It is so obvious. Seriously, I’m telling you. Just go to him now, tell him you love him, and there’s your happily ever after.” 

“Fine, fine. I’ll text him.” 

“You better tell me everything tomorrow!” she squeals, and she walks back to Naomi and Adrianna.

I shake my head, smiling. I know exactly how to do it. A waiter passes by, and I quickly grab a cocktail. I take it to Jungkook’s room, and I down the sweet alcoholic drink within mere seconds. I would need it. Unlocking my phone, I text Jungkook: your room. 15 minutes. My fingers shake as I type each letter out. My heartbeat quickening. What if you’re too late just like last time? What if he’s with another girl already? What if you’re not good enough for him? What if, what if, what if? These questions run through my mind, and I become a growing time bomb. I stand up to dim the lights in his room to a point where he would be able to see me, but not super clearly. You should just leave. He doesn’t love you, I lie down on the silky bedspread, the cool fabric touching my almost bare back. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute feels like an hour. Why did it even matter to me if he comes or not? I could have any boy I want, right? I unlock my phone again to find he had still not read the text. It had been thirteen minutes. Two minutes pass, and he’s still not here. It doesn’t matter. I stand up beginning to leave, completely done with him. I’m done with him. That is the moment he finally walks in, closing the door behind him. He glides toward me until my body is pressed against the black wall, having no place to go, “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” I mutter, tilting my head down. His fingers tips my chin up. He is looking me directly in the eyes. 

“Clearly, you were wrong,” 

My breath stops for just a second. His lips inch towards mine and connect. They taste of mint and move against mine slowly. He seems…unsure. His hands grip my waist gently, and my hand cups his cheek. I want more. I pull away, and he looks surprised. “Kiss me like you fucking mean it. God, I thought you were good at this. Hmm, maybe I should go back to Jimin.” I egg him on, knowing he will get pissed. And he does. 

“Don’t say his name,” he mutters, and his lips reconnect with mine with more need. More hunger. This time I could feel the confidence. The cockiness. It is way different than Jimin’s kisses. Jimin was absolutely emotionless, but Jungkook…He has everything. Anger. Jealousy. Love. Lust. All of it is there. I am so lost in him. He slides his jacket off, and he roughly bites my lip, needing more. He does not care how rough he is. He needs me, and I need him. I notice the hints of alcohol as our tongues fight for dominance. Putting his hand on my ponytail, Jungkook takes the hairtie out. My hair cascades down, and he runs his fingers through my hair. I eventually win control. I push him away from the wall and lead our bodies towards the bed. Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away this time. He grabs me by the waist and pushes me onto the bed so I fall into a lying position. I let out a small yell, and he smiles devilishly. All the control I thought I had is gone. He pushes up against me, his clothed hips rolling down on mine. His face buries into my neck, and I let out a small moan. 

“I win,” he mumbles into my neck. I can feel him growing restless as he leaves soft kisses everywhere. His teeth work at gently tugging on the sensitive skin. I don’t care that I would go home with so many damn love bites on my neck. Jungkook is mine, and that is all that matters right now. He continues to leave bites everywhere, and no amount of makeup would be able to cover them. Moans continuously leave my lips, and God, I can feel him smiling. 

“I fucking hate you, Jungkook,” 

“I’m sure you do,” he breathes against my now sensitive skin. I let out a sigh of pleasure. He finally sits up to look down at me. He appears smug seeing all the bites he has left. Pure art. 

I sit up and climb onto his lap, my arms hooking around his neck. “Time for payback,” I press my lips against his softly. As our lips move together, I work to throw his tie off and unbutton his shirt. My hands roam down his chest to his abs to his thigh. I grip his clothed thigh knowing it would drive him absolutely crazy. He groans lowly. 

“Fuck,”

I scatter bites across his neck. The upper part of his chest. He is a mess. An absolute fucking mess. I can not believe I completely have him under my spell. He throws his head back moaning. 

It is as if there is no party going on outside the almost dark bedroom. It is just me and Jungkook. In that moment, we do not give a shit about what problems we have in our lives. We just need each other. 

♡~♡~♡

“I…I should go. My parents…” I groan against him. He plays with the strap of my romper. 

“Just a little bit longer?” he asks. With all the will I have remaining, I remove myself from him. I shake my head no, and he looks disappointed. I glance at his clock. 1:57 AM. How had more than an hour passed of us just making out? 

“So, when’s round two gonna be?” I whisper. I sit on the edge of his bed leaning over to put my heels back on. I would probably get someone who is still at the party to drive me home or something. 

“How about now?” he asks, putting his chin on my shoulder. I glance at him. He looks like an innocent puppy. I do not understand how he could change his personality so fast. 

“Jungkook…” I trail off. 

He begins to kiss my neck again. Fuck. 

“C’mon. You can deal with your parents later…” he whispers. I think about it as he continues to kiss over the hickies he had left earlier. Either way, leaving now or in the morning, my parents would kill me. I kick off my shoes as quickly as I had put them back on. 

He pushes me back down, and he smirks. “And just so you know…I won. I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he remarks, his lips so close to mine. 

He gives that irresistible smile and without me realizing it, he begins to slowly push the straps of my romper down. But I won’t say anything more. Because what happened in Beverly Hills stayed in Beverly Hills.

[thatishogwash]

Bad Days Made Better

Summary: Sawamura is having a bad day until his boyfriends cheer him up.

AO3

Warnings: None.

Sawamura was having a Bad Day.  The kind that starts off by waking up in terror because he accidentally set his alarm to PM instead of AM and missed one of his morning lectures and ends up with him getting yelled at by a customer for five minutes and then having to sit through a demeaning conversation with his manager.  Actually no, if the day had ended like that Sawamura would have been happy because he could have just gone back to his dorm, curled up in bed promised himself that tomorrow would be better.

Except for the fact that it was Halloween Weekend and his entire dorm floor was having a massive party.  There was no peace to be had and Sawamura, knowing his roommates the way he did, knew his dorm would not be a safe place to stay.

Sawamura had walked thirty minutes because of course, of course he forgot his bus pass in his room and he had already walked ten minutes to the bus before realizing it and had to endure the disappointed and disgusted looks of the bus driver and passengers when he had to slouch his way back off the bus.  Sawamura continued on foot, in the rain because did he mention it was downpouring?  It was only naturally storming when he had a twenty minute walk away from campus.

Sometimes Sawamura regretted moving to Tokyo.  The city was constantly noisy and crowded, the heat and humidity seemed to stick to him and keep him down for days on end and the winters weren’t any better.  He was hours away from his family, who he loved and always knew how to make his days better, and most of his friends had to school elsewhere.  He had to get a job in a fastfood restaurant where he was continually degraded on a daily basis and he had to nearly quit the volleyball team because his school work was suffering.

University was not all it was cracked up to be.  He, along with most of the student body, were on near-constant breakdowns from too much coursework and not nearly enough sleep.  Or food.  Sawamura had not managed to eat anything all day and his body was suffering for it.

It seemed like Tokyo was rejecting him and Sawamura, the guy who never gave up, was ready to call it quits.

Which led Sawamura to a dingy looking apartment thirty minutes away from his own dorm, staring at a door with no numbers.  There was a little hook where the numbers had been but they were long gone.  Stolen or broken.

Sawamura was dripping on the tiled floor of the hallway as he stared at the unmarked door, thinking about turning around and maybe camping out at the library.  He had done it before, more times than he was willing to admit to, and he really didn’t feel like pushing his bad mood onto anyone else.  Especially not the two people that seemed like Tokyo’s only saving grace at that moment.

The door was pulled open before Sawamura could make the decision to walk away or stay and a body came into view.  Bokuto looked surprised to see Sawamura, but that surprise quickly gave way to elation as he grinned widely at him.

“Daichi!”  Bokuto hopped happily over to him before hugging him with no care to the fact he was getting wet.  “I thought you were pizza, but you’re much better than pizza.”  Sawamura was dragged inside the apartment.

“Was it pizza?”  Kuroo called out from the living room.

“No it’s Daichi!”  Bokuto shouted back.

“Oh, I couldn’t tell with you hollering out in the hall.”  Kuroo snickered, something sounded like it was dying on the tv.

“You cheat, I paused the game!”  Bokuto pulled Sawamura towards the living room.

“Bo, I’m going to get the floor wet.”  Sawamura complained though he didn’t try to pull back.

“That’s fine, he can clean up the water when he goes to clean up the soda he dripped all over the floor and still hasn’t cleaned up.”  Kuroo said without glancing up as he killed a video game character on the screen.  By Bokuto’s anguished yell Sawamura could guess it was Bokuto’s character.

“Why are you walking out in the rain?”  Bokuto asked, getting over his character's death quickly.

“Obviously he’s come to make a dramatic love confession to us, does he have a boombox or flowers?”  Kuroo asked, turning around and looking over Sawamura before tossing the controller onto the old couch and getting up.  He disappeared down the hall before anyone could answer him as Bokuto helped, or more like manhandled, Sawamura out of his backpack and coat.

Kuroo walked back out to the living room with a smile.

“Towel and clothes are in the bathroom, you can even use all our hot water to take a shower if you want.”  Kuroo offered.  Considering their ancient pipes only gave about five minutes of hot water that offer was equal parts generous and not.  Sawamura nodded and made his way to the bathroom silently.

Sawamura told himself he would tell them they didn’t have to stay with him.  They were clearly heading out, considering they were both dressed in costume.  Well, as much as a costume broke college students could afford.  They were wearing teenage mutant ninja turtle shell shirts with matching masks over their eyes, Bokuto’s in orange while Kuroo’s was purple.  It was Halloween weekend, there was a party every five steps.

The sweatpants were Bokuto’s, a little baggy with a tear in the knee and a permanent reddish brown stain on the thigh but soft and comfortable.  The shirt was one of Kuroo’s from work.  He worked at a store that made customizable tshirts, it was mostly for tourists but it was also run by a bunch of college kids so they continually making their own, usually with dirty English sayings on them.

Sawamura hung his wet clothes over the shower door before walking out, he could hear Bokuto and Kuroo arguing about what the proper use of a cheater was.

“Hey hey hey Daichi!  The pizza just arrived.”  Bokuto said with excitement and they both looked like they were waiting for Sawamura to appear before eating.  Sawamura sat down in between the two.  “We saved a creamsicle flavor just for you.”  Bokuto presented the neon orange soda to Sawamura with flair, he couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

“Thank you,” Sawamura said, which seemed to be the cue for them all to start digging into the pizza boxes.  “You two don’t have to stay in for me, I think I’m going to head to bed right after I eat.”

“What made you think we’re going out?”  Kuroo asked as Bokuto piled two slices of pizza on top of each other before taking a large bite out of both.

“You’re in costume?”  Sawamura glanced at both of them.  Kuroo and Bokuto shared a look before Kuroo grinned.

“We always dress up for each other.”  Kuroo said as Bokuto nodded.

“We like to look good.”  Sawamura gave them a confused look.  “It’s date night!  We can go out any other night but all three of us haven’t been able to get together in a while.”  Bokuto complained, dropping his head on Sawamura’s shoulder.

“We missed you.”  Kuroo shrugged like he wasn’t blushing at the admission.  He turned towards the tv, using the controller to push play on a movie they had queued up on netflix.  Sawamura noted that it was one of the movies he had expressed interest in before.

Sawamura swallowed the sudden lump in his throat down as he slowly started to eat, letting himself relax into his boyfriends.  Ever-restless Bokuto continually bumped his leg against Sawamura’s as he quickly devoured an entire pizza by himself.  Sawamura pressed his leg against Bokuto’s, watched as the other man almost immediately calmed down.

Sawamura had been surprised at how easy a relationship was between the three of them.  He had come to Tokyo with an aching heart.  Yui and him hadn’t broken up on bad terms but they both knew their lives were heading in different directions and it would only be difficult for both of them separated by so many miles.  It had been an easy friendship, the one he shared with Bokuto and Kuroo.  Surprisingly easy considering how Sawamura once thought the only thing they all shared in common was volleyball.  It was a strong enough connection to get them through the first few stages of friendship until Sawamura found himself at Kuroo and Bokuto’s shared apartment more often than his own dorm.

Once they were all done eating Kuroo stood up and walked down the short hall to a bedroom before coming back with his arms full of blankets.  Bokuto had laid down, his head propped up on Sawamura’s thigh and his long legs hitched over the arm of the couch.  Kuroo spread a blanket over Bokuto before making him lift his head so he could put a second one over Sawamura.  Kuroo then curled up under the blanket with Sawamura, leaching warmth from Sawamura who pressed a lingering kiss to his temple in thanks.

Sawamura carefully ran his fingers through Bokuto’s hair.  Between classes, volleyball, and a part time job Bokuto hardly ever had time to see to his hair.  He had long since deviated from the spiked horns and for special occasions, or what Bokuto considered special occasions, he did it in a sort of messy pompadour style.  Kuroo’s own hair had grown longer throughout the years.  It was long enough now to put in a small ponytail at the nap of his neck, though after months of dealing with it falling in his face constantly Kuroo would go have it all cut off.

They had all grown in their own ways over the years.  Sawamura and Kuroo wore glasses more often, the latter often times “losing” them after all nighters only to discover they were on top of his head.  Bokuto had actually grown taller and they all had bulked out more as they went from growing awkward teenage bodies into adulthood.

“Feeling better?”  Kuroo asked as they went onto their third movie of the night.  He was absentmindedly tracing the muscles and veins in Sawamura’s hand, carefully running the pads of his fingers over the swollen knuckles on Sawamura’s middle and ring finger.

Sawamura nuzzled Kuroo’s hair in answer, complete contentment making him feel more relaxed than he had in days, perhaps weeks.  He knew his previous doubts mostly came from sleep deprivation and hunger.  They all had bad days but Sawamura had gotten so used to trudging through his own bad days that he forgot that he had two very willing boyfriends who were more than happy to spend a night in with him.  To order pizza from his favorite place even though it’s more expensive and to save him the last orange drink and watch period movies where the subtitles sometimes don’t even make sense.  They were willing to do that the same way Sawamura was willing to put off papers to let Bokuto curl up against him in bed, with the blinds closed tight and soft rock music playing from his phone just because Bokuto had a bad day and all he really needs after one is some physical contact.  The same way Sawamura ignores Kuroo’s biting remarks when he’s on his third all nighter trying to finish a project that four people were suppose to work on but they all left everything for Kuroo to do.  Sawamura would carefully extract Kuroo from his open laptop and multiple books and notes to push him gently towards the bathroom before saving his work.  Kuroo would come out almost forty minutes later, looking ashamed and like a wet kitten before Sawamura would help him dry his hair, letting him know silently that it was alright.

Everyone had their bad days.

Sawamura sighed in contentment, letting his heavy eyelids close and thinking about how it wasn’t that bad of a day after all.

[xjmparrish]

31 Day Character Development Writing Challenge

(days 11- 31)

DAY 11: When does your celebrity feel their best? Are they the type that does best with time off, hanging out at home with the family or the dog on the couch, or do they find themselves feeling the most at ease while working?

She feels her best when enjoying some time off to work on herself. This is typically during hiatus for her, where she can start off her day feeling like a badass post workout, hang at the beach with her girls, then be lazy for the rest of the day on the couch with Kleo and a bag of chips. Everybody needs time to just chill out, and it’s a time for her to be her best self that doesn’t involve waking up at 5am for hair and makeup as most other times in her life. 

DAY 12: Why did your celebrity choose the house that they’re currently living in? Was there something that drew them to the space, or a price point that it fell under, or some special reason that they decided to take the plunge?

Janel loves any excuse to be near the water, so settling over in the Retreats was a natural choice especially in comparison to the home she was just moving out of blocks from the beach. She’s used to a smaller, simpler living. It was a perfect compromise considering other options she’d seen in town. 

DAY 13: Describe the contents of your celebrity’s night stand. Is it full of naughty secrets? Do they keep precious family mementos? What about the surface, do they have things thrown about, is it organized?

Her night stand is fairly organized, though she does tend to collect things like water bottles on top. Inside of the drawer is mostly miscellaneous things like packs of tissues and a handy bottle of painkillers. Books occasionally make their way on and off of the table, as now most reading she does isn’t from from a physical book. Always found are always pens, pencils, and highlighters as well as she tends to read her scripts while in bed. Anything else, might need to be cleaned out but it isn’t messy by any means. 

DAY 14: Winter can be a bit dark and bleak, and sometimes that leads to down days. How does your celebrity handle those? Is there someone they talk to, something they do to feel better, or do they end up keeping it to themselves and dwelling?

Janel talks to her mom and sister every day, even if for just a few minutes. If she needs to talk to anyone, they are her go-to. However, as someone who is prone to feeling everything hard, if she can’t talk things out with family she immediately turns to locking herself in her music room to write. Writing and the occasional composition is her personal form of therapy. If she didn’t write, she’d end up keeping it in until she blew up, so in order to avoid that music and wine is her go-to to feeling better. Maybe even a good cry. 

DAY 15: What kind of lover is your celebrity? Are they the sweet, giving kind or more in it for themselves; openly affectionate in public or more reserved?

Janel falls fast and loves hard. She’s always one to sacrifice for love, or what she thinks is love, even work. Her priority is typically her man, though at the end of the day even without her realizing it, her relationships often suffer because she has difficulty waiting to jump into the next. Affectionate does not begin to describe her. She wants everyone to know who her boo is, constantly posting pictures, without any ability to keep her hands.. or mouth to herself. She is always one to start throwing around “I love you” quicker than most would think appropriate but at the end of the day, she can’t help it when she feels she’s in love. 

DAY 16: The world stops on a certain day of the year, and stays that way forever – what day would your celebrity choose to stop the clocks on? (Month and day.)

Any of the last few times she’d been reunited with her entire family, particularly her grandparents. Since her grandfather’s alzheimers diagnosis, it’s been tough on the family not being able to get together often to see him. So, maybe her sister’s wedding being the last time everyone was together. 

DAY 17: How does your celebrity handle being sick or hurt? Are they the type of person to obey the doctor’s orders and stay in bed? Or are they the kind that’s up and doing things far before they should?

Being sick and being injured are two completely different stories for Janel. If she is sick, she will refuse to see a doctor and revert back to being a needy child. Sick days require home remedies, soup, and cuddling with either another human or Kleo or her stuffed bear. Maybe even all three. Being injured however, she’ll keep quiet for as long as possible. With a pretty high pain tolerence, it takes quite a lot of pain for her to cry. If she’s in enough pain to shed tears, she knows it’s serious enough to get professionally checked out. And although she does her best to follow doctors orders, she may decide to ignore them if they interfere with work. 

DAY 18: Pick three things that your celebrity owns or possesses that are important to them, and explain why they care about them so much. Please exclude animals or people!

Her final wrap gifts from Liars, the ring and jacket, in remembrance of a chapter as a family for the group who survived seven years together creating something they’re truly proud of. She also has priceless jewelry given to her by her grandmother back home which is important for that very reason. 

DAY 19: Does your celebrity have a lot of friends, or do they tend to rely on a smaller group of friends?

Janel truthfully has a small circle that are her true friends, but often times calls acquaintances her friends, and her friends her best friends. She has a specific handful who have stuck with her through thick and thin who were truly her best friends and those she has made more recently who are on their way to join that position in her life.  

DAY 20: What’s your celebrity’s relationship history like? A lot of hook-ups, many long-term relationships? Have they ever gotten very serious with someone before?

Back to back long term relationships over the past decade, with the occasional fling in between. She is a serial monogamist who does not know how to be single for very long. Most of these men are people she has worked with, at one time or another. However, her two most publicly speculated relationships are both unconfirmed flings that she refuses to speak on as they occurred back to back and interfered with her job. Of all of these relationships, only one has ended close to marriage. 

DAY 21: Travel time! Where in the world would your celebrity like to go if they were given the opportunity to take an all-expenses paid trip to anywhere in the entire world? The catch is… it’s a solo trip that they’re taking alone.

Anywhere where she can drink from sun up to sun down while lying out on the beach. It might be nice to visit Turks and Caicos again, as last time she took her sister she had purely jumped at the opportunity as a means to get the hell out of LA and away from the drama overwhelming her life at the time. So, it would be nice to return to what was one of her favorite vacation spots, without having to feel doomed about returning home. 

DAY 22: Whether they’re into acting, music, a sport… what has been the project that your celebrity is the most proud of?

Her two biggest projects thus far. Liars established her career as a real actress and taught her about the business. It’s given her career the opportunity to expand in ways she never even considered, all stemming from the show. Luckily, the spin off gives her a chance to continue that journey and testing her limits in acting. Of everything else she’s done over the years, Dancing had the most impact on her personally. The journey challenged her not only physically but emotionally and mentally to a degree she never expected, and it was all worth it for the experience in the end. She grew up a lot in the aftermath as well. Both shows shaped an extensive part of her life from which she grew up, and looking back, is the proudest accomplishments of her career. 

DAY 23: And on the opposite side of the spectrum, is there a project that your celebrity has worked on that they absolutely regret, for one reason or another?

She doesn’t regret any projects because they have all taught her about life and led her to where she is now. But let’s be real, Bratz is a little embarrassing to watch back. It was her first major film, and it bombed, and watching back is cringe-worthy. However, it gave her her best friends to this day and taught her lessons she needed before reaching the level she would a few short years later. 

DAY 24: How does your celebrity handle the holiday season? Are they the kind that’s very excited and upbeat? Do they tend to get somber around the holidays? Are they religious at all, or more in it for the traditions they create on their own?

Christmas is her favorite time of year. Christmas music makes her happy to the point she’ll be told to shut up several times throughout the month. The holidays always come up far to quick, in her opinion, and leave even quicker. She didn’t grow up particularly religious but her family does celebrate Christmas with early morning presents and brunch. Typically, because her extended family is so far away, it’s a quiet and comfortable day spent relaxing and enjoying family time. 

DAY 25: What is your celebrity’s Christmas (or other/no holiday, if they don’t celebrate) routine like? Do they travel out of town, have family over? Wake up early, or take advantage of the holiday and sleep in? What do they do with the day? How has it changed since they were younger and at home?

Most years, her sister flies in and they both spend it with their parents and dogs. By that point, Janel has typically moved back in with her parents for a few days already, staying with them upwards of a week beforehand and a few days after. Christmas day is typically an early morning, breakfast mimosas and presents type of deal. A games of Chinese checkers while laying on the living room floor leads to Janel’s solo tradition of watching RENT or the Sound of Music or any other musical she’s deemed Christmas appropriate while her folks rest. The day is just to relax and enjoy family time, typically ending with some wine and a book in hand to end the night. Back in Hawai'i, it would be a day spent at grandmas with the whole family and Janel was the one singing for the family after presents. Since moving to LA, it’s been her and her parents and sister. That list now includes her brother in law and the family dogs.   

DAY 26: When the holidays end, is your celebrity the type that wants to undecorate and move on immediately to get back to normal, or do they keep things up and keep the spirit going longer?

Janel is lazy and will keep things up until her mom comes over to help take everything down. She loves Christmas and wishes it lasted longer, so as long as the decor is socially acceptable is good with her. New Years is often time the cut off for her to bring everything down.  

DAY 27: Is your celebrity more of a city-dweller, or a farm person? Do you think that where they grew up had a big impact on that? And how do they do when they’re living in the opposite situation?

She refuses to live downtown, the suburbs are more her scene. Growing up in Honolulu, she enjoyed her time when the family lived a ways away toward the mountains and spent her days on the beach. The house she owns in LA is a relatively small home in quiet neighborhood in North Hollywood. She was previously living in Long Beach, blocks away from a small beach. Now she’s out by the water yet again in town. If she were to go back to living in a place like DTLA she would probably rip her hair out, it’s too much. Living out far in farm country also may not work, she relies too much on food delivery.

DAY 28: Growing up, was there one person that your celebrity looked up to more than any other, whether it be family, friend, or just someone else in their life? How do they feel about that person today?

Her mom, older sister, actresses like Lucy Liu and Ming Na Wen or Lea Salonga, and as she got older her cousin actress Kelly Hu when she began making it big. Each woman had a big impact on her life in different ways, mostly teaching her to believe in herself and that she was capable of anything no matter who she was, where she came from, or how she looked.

DAY 29: Imagine if your celebrity had never come to Bayview… where would they be right this moment? Who would they be with, and what would they be doing?

She would still be in Toronto working, but in her previous relationship heading for the alter. Without Bayview, she’d be caught up in work to distract from everything else happening in life, and balancing that with wedding planning instead and in need of some time off. However, work prospects would still be the same, as she signed on for them over a year ago. 

DAY 30: It’s the year 2022, and your celebrity is still living in Bayview. Describe what you think their life is going to be like in five years; are they still in the same house, doing the same work? With the same person and social circle? Or has their life changed astronomically? Do you think the reality of where they are is where they would have wanted to be back in 2017?

Probably in a bigger place in the suburbs, married, maybe have a kid but she’s still got plenty of time. All her time is spent between town and on location filming, her music career has also taken off. The same consistent people around her keeping her grounded. It’s a good life. Life has started to fall together, so the next five years are expected to continue the trend. 

DAY 31: If there was one wish that your celebrity could have come true for the upcoming year, what would it be and why?

To finally settle down and be happy, while work continues to be steady. So in other words, to be living comfortably. Other years have not been so nice. It would also be nice to get a little more credit and recognition for her work, which oftentimes goes unnoticed. 

[mredlich21]

Another Salman classic!  Baaghi, a movie he wrote himself.  And featuring another really really good performance from him.

I was watching this thing thinking “okay, saw that in Sadak, saw that, saw that.”  And then I looked up the years, and Baaghi was first!  Sadak gets the mentions as this really cool deep love story, but it’s just doing what Baaghi did already.  Okay, so Sadak is doing it better (because Mahesh Bhatt > Deepak Shivdasani), but still, Baaghi did it first!

A while ago, I was talking about how Demi Moore’s “Indian” movie was supposed to be a big deal because it dealt with human trafficking, but that is obviously silly because there are so many other Indian films that deal with human trafficking.  But they deal with it as it is experienced by the victims and their loved ones, not through the lens of some kind of social crusader.

(Do you remember the set up for this?  Ranbir is helping a bunch of earnest documentarians, and none of the sex workers want to talk to them, but then Ranbir starts flirting and joking and treating them as people, and everyone loosens up)

Which is what Baaghi does!  It looks at sex slavery through the lens of an innocent girl who got sucked into it, and the boy who falls in love with her.  No one involved is completely “pure” and no one involved is completely “corrupted.”  Well, that’s not quite right, our heroine is pure, and our villain is corrupt, but everyone else exists on a continuum.  Even our hero is mostly good, but he did originally meet our heroine when visiting a brothel, so he’s not 100% blameless.

This is a much better message, to me, than the crusading rescuer kind of films.  No one is going to identify themselves as the villain in those films, and be inspired to reform.  And no one is going to think they can live up to the example set by the hero and try to save anyone.

But Baaghi is saying that anyone can be a hero, just be open to seeing someone as a human person and caring for them.  And that anyone can reform, the madam and the pimp are part of a larger system and it isn’t just black and white.  Well, except for Shakti Kapoor.  He’s just eeeeeeeeeeevil and he always is! (except in Hum Saath Saath Hain.  I kept waiting for him to reveal his dark side in that, and no!  He’s truly just a good guy!)

(So odd seeing him being a happy wedding guest, instead of the evil uncle forcing the marriage to happen against the bride’s will!)

Baaghi is also just a really nice movie.  It’s from back when Salman was a little baby superstar, and he had this amazing rawness and sincerity onscreen.  I mean, he still does sometimes today, but it’s not as brilliant and sort of uncontrolled as it was back in the day.  It makes his young romances especially powerful, because you really feel the passionate highs and lows, and instant connection, that teenage romances can have.

That’s the big, I don’t want to say “hook” exactly, but catalyst maybe, for this film.  Because Salman is so young, too young to really think about anything or be able to stop his emotions from running forward, he falls in love with a very inappropriate person.  And because she is so young, she isn’t able to resist him, or even think that she should.  And the fact is, in their careless thoughtless youth, they are actually seeing the world more clearly than the more mature people around them, who have been blinded by accepting “how things are.”

Normally when a romantic young couple says “You just don’t understand!!!”, I kind of roll my eyes, because either the couple is being ridiculously dramatic, or the parents (or whoever else it is that is forbidding their union) are being ridiculously evil.  But Baaghi managed to come up with a situation in which I can kind of see both sides.

On the one hand, your son rescuing a girl from a brothel and bringing her home, announcing this is his to-be-wife, is really something that you need a few minutes to process.  And Salman doesn’t exactly give them a long time to get used to the idea before storming out.

But on the other hand, it’s also wrong to throw a girl away and mark her as damaged goods because she was kidnapped and forced into sex slavery.  And in the clear-eyed youthful side of things, that fact should be so obvious, that there is no need to slow down and think about society or anything else before charging forward to what is so obviously the correct solution.

That’s what I like about the message of this film, it’s not people sitting down and arguing out the facts of the case and the right and wrong of the morals, it’s saying that the right thing is also the natural thing, the thing that you instinctively want to do.  And the “bad” people have to constantly kill their natural urges in order to keep doing their villainy.  Humanity doesn’t tend towards evil, it tends towards good.  Again, excepting Shakti Kapoor (by the way, it is super strange watching this thinking about his real life casting couch scandal).

I mentioned that I still prefer Sadak by a narrow margin, I think that is because Sadak went a little further in looking at how these natural instincts can break through, even past a bad beginning.  In Baaghi, they are ultimately good, the heroine was tricked into prostitution, our hero is a young college boy with a bright future who only drives a taxi at night to raise money.  But in Sadak, her uncle knowingly sold her into prostitution, and our hero really is a taxi driver.  They are more flowers growing among weeds, then flowers momentarily plucked and placed among the weeds before returning to their own kind.  Also, as I said, better director.  I mean, this film is fine, workmanlike, acceptable.  But Sadak has flashes of real brilliance in it.

(Plus, while Sadak has the same virgin prostitute heroine and innocent hero, the second hero and heroine are a prostitute and her former client, no prevarications)

Mostly though, I like this film for how straightforward the last half of it is, especially the ending sequence.  Which means I have to get into SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER

Right, Salman is a young college boy, son of an army officer.  He is growing increasingly estranged from his father, as he doesn’t want to join the army after graduation, but he also hasn’t quite built up the courage to tell him.  This is a seemingly pointless backstory, but it helps establish the baseline that Salman is looking for a purpose in life, he knows what he doesn’t want, but not yet what he does want.

As he travels to join his family and start college, he glimpses a girl sitting in the window of a bus.  They look at each other and have a moment of instant connection.  It’s a very nice visual metaphor for the rest of the film, two young people on two very different tracks who meet randomly in the middle.

Salman joins the college and has the usual college hijinks (including being forced to run around in a bikini, images that I am shocked don’t pop up on the internet more often!).  But the college hijinks are important, for showing that Salman is slowly fighting towards finding his own place and his own community outside of being his father’s son.  And as part of this, his friends encourage him to come with them on an adventure into the red light district.

Going to the red light district is not treated as a huge sin they are doing, or something dramatically rebellious.  But it’s also not an everyday event.  They are a little nervous and a little excited, and it is clear (at least, to me) that they aren’t actually planning to pay for services at a brothel, they are just excited about the idea of visiting one and seeing what it is like.  The film could have chosen to go another way, to make Salman be tricked or drugged or come up with some other elaborate blameless way for him to get there.  But I like it better this way, acknowledging that red light districts are a fact of life, and college boys are curious about them, and that’s all it can take for this “good boy” to suddenly end up somewhere he shouldn’t be.

And all it takes for him to fall hopelessly in love with Nagma is to see her, tearstained and bruised on the floor of a room, and bring her a glass of water.  He doesn’t need a big explanation that of course she is an innocent victim who didn’t choose sex work, or to see her as a vision of beauty, he just needs to be a young man seeing a young girl, and liking her.  And vice versa as well, she just needs to see a young man who is kind to her, and that’s all.

In Pakeezah, there is this HUGE deal over Meena Kumari giving up her heritage of prostitution and allowing herself to feel something and etc. etc.  And similarly, this HUGE deal of a young man from a good family being so noble he can look past her family.  It’s a classic brilliant movie of course.  And it’s talking about a different time and a different place.  But it’s also another story of a prostitute (even if she hasn’t yet “sold her virginity”) and a young man of good family falling in love.  And it’s told with all of this agonizing back and forth over if she feels good enough for him, and if he can ever see her that way, and so on and so on.

(See how she runs at the end, when the train whistle reminds her of her true love?)

But in Baaghi, they are just young human people who fall in love and never even realize there are consequences, let alone think about them.  They both leap in feet first right away, despite her being a prisoner in a brothel and him being a college student with no plans or prospects.  And rather than the world teaching them to be more serious, they teach the world to be more hopeful.

(Look at them, just having a sweet first date, not caring that he had to raise the money to pay the Madam to be allowed to take her out)

One of my favorite characters is the brothel madam, Asha Sachdev.  She starts out seeming like any other Madam, lounging around and trying to talk sense into her girls.  But slowly, you see her tenderness, her real concern over Nagma’s broken heart and her wish that the young people could be happy.  She’s just as trapped as Nagma, and just trying to do what little good she can in the position she has.  And in the end, when she decides to “rebel” just as much as the young people, she dies for her kindness.

Oh right, that’s the title “Baaghi: A Rebel for Love”.  It’s kind of a boring title if you think of it as applying to Salman.  Or even Salman and Nagma.  Because isn’t every other Indian romance about the hero and heroine rebelling because they fall in love?  But it’s a really interesting title if you think of it as applying to everyone else.

There’s Asha Sachdev, who eventually rebels against Shakti Kapoor’s dictates because she grows to care for Nagma, and believe in her love story with Salman.  There’s the Pimp (who I can’t find the name of the actor) who starts out completely evil, ready to “break in” Nagma to the life of a prostitute.  But then we learn he was raised by Shakti Kapoor and has no one else, and more importantly is only doing these things to help take care of his sister.  And when she is raped and kills herself, the Pimp turns into a rebel too, for the love of his sister.  And finally even Salman’s very proper father Kiran Kumar turns into a rebel, for the love of his son, when he learns that Salman and Nagma are fighting it out against Shakti in the red light district.

Happy Salman Day! Baaghi, a Salman Classic Written By Salman Another Salman classic!  Baaghi, a movie he wrote himself.  And featuring another really really good performance from him.