#it sounds a little pretentious writing it out but like. i waited on forever but forever never came just a latent sense of loyalty to the thi

[doctorbeans]

so like. y’know, theres an omen now of frailty hanging heavy from my face a kind of existential loneliness that struts and fruts the stage and disappears unsatiated by the rhythms of the day still illuminating nothing but the love i turn away and i still care about the present and the weight of circumstance to the muckraking of cowards and a symphony of sad but i ha

[mackenzielovee]

heyy! can you do an angsty one where rafe and the reader are “friends,” for a long time, they’ve been in the same friend group and she’s been with love with him for a while now, and he knows and uses that for his advantage. she always does stuff for him, help him whenever he needed and more, and he treats her pretty badly/rudely in return. their friends (top n kelce,) always try to tell him to stop and more and finally she’s had enough she confronts him and show how much he was actually draining her, and he acts like he doesn’t care but he does realize what he was doing, but meanwhile he’s reflecting on his actions, y/n is getting closer to jj? thanks lol the end is up to you. love u and ur fics <3

a/n: hi love! im so sorry it took me so long to write this. I hope you love it!! it took me forever to finish hahaha but i loved writing it!

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking

my writing

pretty damn lucky - rafe cameron

You sigh as you pull Rafe's fresh sheets from the dryer, breathing in the scent of the detergent mixed with the scent of him. He and the boys had way too much to drink last night, which resulted in Rafe getting sick all over his bed when they got home. You had stripped his sheets immediately and put them in the wash, then made a makeshift bed for Rafe on the floor with all of his blankets.

He had grunted at you in return for all your work, collapsing down on the floor and passing out before you could even say goodnight to him.

You had washed the sheets once again this morning when you woke up, then stuck them in the dryer and waited on them.

Topper groans on the couch as you pass him on your way to Rafe's room. You stop and chuckle, watching as he hesitantly opens his eyes.

"Oh, fuck," Topper grumbles as he sits up, clutching his head.

"I think you guys brought the bar home with you."

He glances up, eyes meeting yours, and groans. You laugh and step over to him, taking a seat on the couch beside him.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him.

"Yeah, a time machine. Don't let me drink so much," he whines, collapsing back down on the couch. You stand, letting out a laugh.

"Water and aspirin. Got it."

You walk up the stairs and stop in front of Rafe's bedroom door, knocking on it lightly before you peak your head in. He's still laying on the floor, but you can't tell if he's awake or not. You stop inside, warm sheets in hand, and close the door behind you. He grunts at the noise, but it's not enough to make him open his eyes.

"Hey," you say to him, "I washed your sheets. How are you feeling?"

Rafe moves on the floor, opening his eyes only enough to see you, then rolls back to his initial spot and closes his eyes again.

"Just put the sheets back on, I want my bed."

You sigh and nod your head, stepping over to his bed to start making it. You watch him as you work, laying on the floor, mouth parted slightly and eyebrows furrowed as he tries to focus on not throwing up again.

"Okay," you whisper once his bed is made, "Come on. I'll help you."

Rafe allows you to wrap your arms around his torso, helping him stand from off the floor. He leans all his weight on you as you two stumble over to his bed, then he collapses onto it. You cover him with his comforter and then fix his hair so it's not sitting in his eyes anymore. He doesn't say anything at your movements.

"I'll get you some water and some medicine. Be back in a minute," you whisper to him. He just nods as best he can.

You hurry back down the stairs, rushing past Topper and into the kitchen. You grab two water bottles out of the fridge and then rifle through the cabinets until you find a bottle of aspirin. As you walk from the kitchen to Topper on the couch, you stop in your tracks.

"Topper," you say, your voice authoritative, "Where is Kelce?"

Topper laughs, which is how you know it's bad. You hadn't noticed that they were one friend light when they stumbled in last night, mostly because you had been too worried about Rafe to be concerned with where Topper and Kelce crashed.

"He fell down outside last night. I'm pretty sure we just left him there."

You sigh loudly, handing him a bottle of water and aspirin as you swear and rush to the front door. As you approach, you can already see him, face up in the Cameron's new flower bed that Rose had worked so hard to make perfect. You open the door and rush to Kelce, annoyed with the boys for not even telling you he was out here.

"Kelce?" you question, stirring him awake, "You alive in there?"

Kelce sits up, as if you'd awakened him from a dream, and glances around. He looks at you and then down to the clothes he's in, and you watch as his eyes widen.

"Those motherfuckers did not leave me out here," he gasps.

"Kelce, I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were out here-"

"I'm going to kill them - ow."

He tries to stand up, but the throbbing of his head makes him fall back down into the dirt again. You grab onto his arm and try to help him up, noting how you do most of the work. When he's finally upright, you brush off the dirt from his back and then lead him inside.

"Shit," he mutters, "My stomach. I'm gonna need to eat."

"I'm on it," you tell him, leading him into the living room and placing him on the couch next to Topper.

"Hey, man," Topper greets, "Rose sure will be happy you observed the flowers so...closely."

"Shut the fuck up, Top," Kelce snaps, reaching over and punching Topper in the chest. He groans at his head and sits back again, making you laugh.

"All right," you declare, picking up the aspirin and water bottle for Rafe, "Eggs? Toast? Bacon? Sound good?"

Kelce nods his head and Topper looks at you, already looking better with the water and medicine in his system.

"Hey, thank you, Y/N. For always taking care of us," Topper smiles at you.

"Yeah," Kelce agrees, "I'd still be lying in a bush outside if it weren't for you. Thank you."

You smile at them and shake your head, "Of course, boys. Back in a minute. Kelce, don't kill Top. Please."

Kelce grunts, telling you he's still debating if he will or not. You laugh and then rush back up the stairs, hoping Rafe is still alive up there. You knock softly on his door when you reach it, not wanting to just bust in on him.

"Rafe?" you say when you walk in, seeing him laying in the exact same position he had been when you left him.

"What took you so long?" he grumbles.

"I'm sorry," you say, sitting down beside him on his bed, "You guys left Kelce outside and-"

"Do you have the aspirin or what?"

You sigh and nod, handing him the pill bottle and a bottle of water. He sits up, hair messy and eyes only half open, and pours three pills into his hand. You stare at him, observing his sharp jaw line and his soft skin, and you can't help but wonder what it would be like to be able to feel him. Touch him. Love on him the way you've been dreaming about since the day you met him.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Rafe swallows the pills, then brings his eyes up to meet yours, "That breakfast place I love. Why don't you go pick us all up something? Card's in my wallet."

He lays back down, which is his way of excusing you from the room. You just nod your head and grab his card out of his wallet.

"And move the seat back in my truck when you get back. I always hit my head when I get in after you."

"All right," you say quietly, wishing he'd at least say a 'please' or 'thank you'.

You take orders from Topper and Kelce, then hurry out to Rafe's truck. You have to move the seat way up in order to drive the truck, and you make a mental note to move it back when you get back to the house.

You pull up to the restaurant and climb out of the truck, fumbling with the keys and your purse and Rafe's card, too wrapped up in yourself to notice the blonde boy standing about five feet from you.

"Damn, I didn't expect someone as pretty as you to hop out of that truck," JJ smirks at you, watching your eyes shoot up to him.

You smile, "Hi, JJ."

"How are you?" he asks, cheeky look on his face.

You set your hands on your hips, keys and card tucked between your fingers, as you observe what you're wearing for the first time. You'd snuck one of Rafe's Kildare Island shirts from his dresser last night and had on jean shorts underneath.

"Y'know," you shrug, "You like this place, too?"

"Ah, little pretentious, but the food's acceptable," he teases, "You eating alone?"

"No. Just picking up food for Rafe and his friends."

"What, are you his assistant or something? Tell Cameron to pick up his own food," JJ huffs.

He'd never tell you, not wanting to upset you, but he's hated watching you run around the island as Rafe's bitch since you met him. JJ's been dying to hang out with you, even asked you a few times, but you always say no because you're on some sort of mission for Rafe.

"It's just a breakfast order," you reply, starting to inch toward the restaurant.

"Just a breakfast order," he shrugs, "Just getting him a beer every time he asks, just following him around like a lost puppy, just-"

"Okay," you stop him, "I'm a big girl, JJ. I can take care of myself."

You turn and start to walk away from him, trying to brush off his 'lost puppy' remark. He groans loudly, which is enough to earn your attention back.

"Prove it," he yells out, making you turn, "Tonight. There's a thing down at the beach. Meet me."

You start to shake your head, but he steps toward you and stops you. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up even more than it already is.

"JJ-"

"Come on, Y/N. Take the Kook chains off for one night. Please. Rafe can do his own dishes and get his own drinks."

You sigh, glancing down at your feet before back up to him, "Maybe."

"Ah- you know what? That's better than a no. I'll take it."

You nod at him, trying your best not to smile too wide, then point to the building. You start to back off, but you keep your eyes fixed on the blonde boy.

"What time? You know, if I decide to come."

JJ smiles wider than he had the entire conversation, "Seven."

You smile back at him, then turn and walk away before you can get even more wrapped up in this boy.

"What the hell took you so long?" Rafe questions as you walk through the door with several bags filled with food.

"Sorry," you sigh at him, "Got caught up."

Kelce and Topper stand up and step to you, taking the bags from you. You thank them quietly, watching as Rafe rolls his eyes and stands from his place on the couch.

"Yeah, never mind the fact that I'm starving to death," he mutters.

"Rafe, come on, man," Topper smacks Rafe on the chest, trying to get him to chill out.

"Yeah, quit being a dick," Kelce tells him.

Topper starts to unload the food from the bags while Kelce leans down and gives you a friendly kiss on the cheek. You smile gently, glancing up to see Rafe watching with his jaw clenched. You try to put distance in between you, but Rafe doesn't seem to care about your efforts.

"Thanks for running to get it, Y/N," Topper smiles to you.

"You're welcome."

"Did you put my seat back, at least?" Rafe asks you, swiping his car keys from the counter where you set them.

"Yes, of course," you reply.

"Of course," he mutters, "You never do."

"Rafe," Kelce says authoritatively, holding his hands out to his sides as if to ask what the hell he's doing.

"I'll fix you a plate," you tell Rafe, setting a hand on Kelce's arm as if to thank him.

Rafe exhales loudly, then steps away and back into the living room. Kelce rolls his eyes at Rafe, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You make Rafe a plate, a little bit of everything, then follow Topper into the living room to take it to him.

"Quit being an asshole to her, man," Topper mumbles to Rafe, slapping him on the back of his head.

"Don't fucking hit me," Rafe growls at Topper.

"Here you go," you hand Rafe a plate. He takes it from you without a word or a glance, inspecting the food you've given him.

"Where's your plate, love?" Topper asks you as Kelce sits down beside him, "I'll make you one. Sit down."

"No," you say quickly, earning the attention of all three boys, "I'm not staying. I gotta get home, I kinda have plans later,"

"What plans?" Rafe asks, judgment present in his voice.

The boys watch the look on your face and Topper and Kelce immediately erupt into fits of laughs and hollers.

"Boy plans, huh?" Kelce smiles at you before he shoves bacon into his mouth.

Your face flushes as you stand in front of them, glancing at Rafe to see his reaction. His jaw is clenched tightly and he's stopping eating all together.

"Who's the lucky guy, Y/N?" Topper snickers.

"It's not a big deal, you guys."

"Why am I jealous right now?" Kelce teases you. You look over at him and roll your eyes, hiding your smile from him.

"What plans?" Rafe repeats himself, raising his voice. Your eyes shoot over to him, watching his expression.

"Um, I'm going down to this thing at the beach," you say, looking down at the floor. Rafe sets his plate down on the coffee table in front of him, not wanting his food anymore.

"Are we invited?" Rafe asks, already knowing the answer. He just wants to make you say it.

"I- it's not my thing," you stutter, "I'm just meeting some people."

"Who?" Topper asks through his food.

"Uh, JJ Maybank and his friends-"

Rafe scoffs, interrupting you, "You're ditching us to hang out with Pogues?"

"I'm not ditching you, Rafe," you frown.

"Funny, that's the way it looks."

"It's just a few drinks on the beach, why are you getting so bent out of shape?" you question, watching as Topper and Kelce squirm, growing more uncomfortable.

"Bent out of shape? " he repeats, voice as if he doesn't believe you just said that, "You're the one driving across the island for shitty ass beer-"

"It's not like I was asking your opinion on my plans-"

"No, no, you were just informing us that you have plans to fuck JJ Maybank, understood."

"Rafe-" you start, but stop when Kelce sits up straight in his chair and speaks.

"What the fuck, Rafe?" Kelce stares at his best friend, "Why are you so mean to Y/N all the time? She doesn't have to hang out with us every day, and honestly, I wouldn't if you treated me the way you treat her."

"Oh, fuck off, Kelce, you don't know shit," Rafe waves him off.

Topper glances at you, then over to Rafe and speaks up as well, "He's right, Rafe. You're an asshole to her. And not just today, but a lot lately."

Rafe sits back on the couch and crosses his arms in front of his chest, rolling his eyes.

"You two don't know anything," he huffs, "Y/N and I are fine."

"Actually," you say, earning Rafe's complete attention, "I don't think we are."

He stands up now, stepping over to you and grabbing onto your wrist, "Let's discuss this in private."

You glance at the boys, trying to offer them a silent 'thank you for trying', then allow Rafe to pull you into the guest room down the hall. He slams the door once you two are inside, then runs his hand through his hair before he speaks.

"What the fuck are you doing, embarrassing me in front of the two of them?" he scoffs.

Your mouth falls open at how that is his main concern after you just told him you have doubts that the two of you are okay. Your heart sinks, watching as he paces the room. You watch the way his jaw is clenched and how his eyes are frantic as he tries to figure out how to fix things with the boys.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly.

Rafe seems to not hear you, "Jesus, now the two of them are gonna be up my ass about you for the rest of the day."

"Rafe-"

"And what the hell is up with you partying with JJ Maybank? Do you not realize how that could look, you hanging out with him?"

"Oh, my God!" you yell, not being able to take any more of his bullshit, "I don't give a shit, Rafe! I mean, seriously. I spent my entire night last night and my entire morning taking care of your ass. Because I care about you. And now, I say I want to do something for myself, and you act like I'm being selfish? Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, please," Rafe shakes his head, "You're always taking care of us, don't act like you're all noble."

"I'm not trying to be noble. I'm trying to tell you how I feel-"

"Well, I didn't fucking ask, all right?" he yells.

You frown and step back from him as if his words struck you across the face. He reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying his best to control his frustration.

"Rafe," you choke out, feeling your emotions as they rise up, "I care about you so much. But, I can't keep walking on eggshells around you. I have done everything you've asked me to do, I've been a good friend to you and I-"

"You what?" he growls at you, stepping forward and grabbing your shoulders.

"I love you, you asshole," you whisper, watching the way his eyes soften at your words, "I love you. But I'm drained. I'm exhausted. And I'm sick of being treated like some bitch who just follows you around and hopes you'll throw her a bone."

Rafe stares at you for a moment, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely cannot tell what he's thinking. After a few seconds, he releases your shoulders and lightly shoves you away from him.

"You should leave," he says, staring at the floor.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you gotta get ready for your big date night, right?"

You laugh sarcastically at his comment, feeling stupid to have expected him to say anything different than that. He sets his hands on his hips and sighs, not bothering to look up at you. You lick your lips and take a deep breath, debating whether or not to stay and fight with him. For him.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you say.

His shoulders fall but he doesn't look up, so you turn and walk out of the room. Topper and Kelce are standing right outside the door, shocked when you suddenly emerge. You roll your eyes at them, not surprised they had been listening. They don't bother trying to stop you, because honestly, they'd leave Rafe, too.

You rush out of the house and slam the door behind you. Topper usually drives you home, but you don't bother to go back inside and ask. You can walk, it's not far.

As much as you love Rafe, as much as you'd kill to be with him, you can't condone the way he's been treating you. You know that you deserve better, just as Topper and Kelce have been reminding him. Better is exactly what you plan to have.

The beach isn't terribly busy when you arrive. You know by the time the sun sets completely, it will be packed. You spot JJ's blonde hair towering above almost everyone on the beach, watching as he laughs with his friends and tips a red cup against his lips. You walk over to him before allowing yourself to hesitate and think about leaving again.

Your fight with Rafe had completely drained your energy, and if you didn't feel like getting completely drunk to forget about it, you'd leave. JJ spies you as you approach and grins widely, starting over to you.

"No fucking way," he smiles, "Can't believe you showed, Mrs. Cameron!"

"Ha ha," you grumble, shaking your head and trying to hide a smile.

"How'd you escape from the prison that is Kook land?"

You roll your eyes, reaching up and taking the cup from his hand. You gulp it down before he can even object, and when you look up at him again, he's staring at you with his mouth wide open.

"Okay. Got it. Drinking, no talking," he reaches down and takes your hand, leading you over to the keg.

"Lots of drinking," you mutter, watching as JJ pretends he didn't hear you.

JJ grabs two beers from the guy handing them out and hands one to you, returning his hand to yours. You start to walk back over to JJ's friends, but he pulls on your hand to keep you where he wants you.

"What are you doing? Don't you want to hang out with your friends?" you ask him.

He shakes his head, "No, I'd rather figure out what's going on with you."

You sigh and take another long sip of your beer, avoiding his eyes on purpose. Although you and JJ hadn't hung out a lot, he still seems to be able to tell that you're bothered.

"It's not a big deal," you say.

"If it's bothering you, it is," JJ insists. His eyes are wide as he looks at you, and you can't help but notice how he hasn't taken one sip of his beer.

"JJ-"

"It's Rafe, I can tell. Did he hurt you?"

"No," you furrow your eyebrows, unsure of why he would even ask that. JJ just nods his head, tightening his grip around your hand.

"All right, then what?"

You give him a small smile, grateful that he's pushing so hard to try and figure out what's bothering you. You've never really had anyone do that before.

"We just got into an argument. But, it's fine-"

"Y/N-"

"I came here to have fun with you. Please don't make me spend the whole night talking about Rafe."

His eyes soften as he stares down at you. You watch as he takes a deep breath, then licks his lips and nods his head. You give him a small smile, watching as he shamelessly return it.

"You're right," he speaks after a minute, "Who needs that asshole, anyway?"

You nod, although you're hesitant to talk shit about Rafe like that, even after everything. JJ squeezes your hand once again, then tugs you toward his friends.

"Come on, let's party."

JJ pumps you full of beers, at your request, and laughs every time you attempt to get him to dance with you. His friends all watch as JJ finally gives into you, standing up as you tug on his hand and allowing you to lead him upright.

You can feel the alcohol rushing through your body as JJ spins you around in the sand, laughing at how much you're loving it. His friends cheer the two of you on, and by the time the song ends, you're completely exhausted. You collapse into JJ's chest and he wraps a strong arm around you, holding you up.

"I didn't realize I'd had so much," you tell him, slurring your words a bit against his chest.

"That's all right," he laughs lightly, "I'll take care of you."

JJ leads you back over to the log the two of you had been sitting on and helps you sit down, smiling when you lean your head down on his shoulder.

"You're nice to me," you tell him.

JJ laughs at your drunken state, pressing his cup to his lips once more. Say what you will about JJ Maybank, but never call him a lightweight.

"You deserve to be treated nicely," he fires back.

"You really believe that?" you ask him, not noticing your eyes fluttering closed against him.

"Of course, Y/N," he whispers, moving his face so his lips graze against the top of your head, "You know, there's a lot more out there than just Rafe Cameron."

"You don't know him like I do," you say quietly.

"You're right," he scoffs, "Nobody else would defend him."

"I'm serious, JJ. He's sweet and caring and protective-"

"And rude, and unkind-"

"JJ," you sigh, "I mean it. Underneath all the bullshit, he's a really great guy."

JJ's silent for a second, then you feel his body tense slightly under you. His friends are all in their own little world, to notice, but JJ isn't.

"Well, that really great guy just showed up to the party."

Your eyes shoot open and your head comes off of JJ's chest as you glance around, trying to steady your vision as you look around to see what he's talking about. When your eyes meet Rafe's, he looks upset. He's watching you and JJ like the thought of you two together actually, physically breaks his heart in half.

Topper and Kelce stand behind him, pushing Rafe forward to you. You stand up, with the help of JJ's hand steadying you, which you immediately let go of when you stand up straight. You tears your eyes away from Rafe long enough to glance back at JJ, asking him silently if it's okay if you go to him.

"Go on," he gives you a sad smile, "Tonight was fun. But, you know, I'm not the type of guy to chase after some other guy's girl."

"JJ-"

"Go, Y/N. You love him. I can tell."

You start to object, but close your mouth when you realize you have no defense. He's right, you know he is. You give JJ a little smile, then turn back to Rafe. The asshole, your asshole, who looks ready to put your heart back together again.

He starts to you and you to him, but he covers way more ground than you given that he's stone cold sober. He can tell you're having trouble standing, so he reaches out and offers his arm as soon as he's within range.

"Hey," he says quietly.

You wrap your cold hands around his arm, steadying yourself and absorbing his warmth. You take a deep breath, inhaling his familiar, heart wrenching scent and letting it fill your lungs.

"What are you doing here?" you question him.

"I- uh, I need to talk to you."

"Why? So you can yell at me and then tell me to leave again?" you spit before you can even think about it.

Rafe clenches his jaw and moves his eyes from yours, glancing around the beach as he considers what the best thing to say is in response.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"It's fine," he shakes his head, speaking too fast to actually mean it, "I deserve it. I was an asshole. I came here to apologize."

You nod your head, doing your best to keep your eyes on his and not trailing all down his body. He's wearing the snapback you love on him, and he has on the shirt the two of you bought together at the mall on a trip.

"You may," you tease him, giving him a small smile and hoping to get one in return. You get it, thankfully.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to ever make you feel second rate. You have been so good to me and I know I don't deserve it-"

"It's okay," you stop him, reaching one hand up to stroke his cheek. His skin, his soft skin under yours feels like heaven to touch. You know the alcohol is the only reason you're not putting up a larger fight.

"I wasn't finished," he smiles widely.

"Well, what can I say? I'm a sucker for that hat," you tease.

His grin only widens as he stares down at you, pulling you into a hug before he can even think of it. His arms wrapped tightly around you make your heart rate speed up to a dangerous level.

"You promise we're okay? Maybe we should talk again when you're sobered up-"

"I'm fine," you lie.

Rafe reaches up and cups your face in his hands, staring down at you intently. You stare back, unable to break away from his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Good, because I've got something to tell you."

Rafe watches as your lips part, wanting to question him but unable to find the right words. He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before he continues.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

You blink rapidly at him, trying to figure out if he really just said those words to you. You shake your head and squirm out of his grasp, taking a deep breath as you look at him.

"You mean that?" you ask him.

"Yeah," he nods, swallowing nervously, "It took me half the day to realize it, but the thought of you down here with JJ literally made me want to kill him. And I'm sorry that I haven't realized it sooner. I was just scared of my feelings, I guess, and I just thought if I pushed you away-"

"You don't have to explain," you stop him, "I just can't believe you feel the same way about me."

"Who wouldn't? Topper informed me today that I happen to be the luckiest guy to walk the face of the earth because I'm loved by you. And I guess, I don't know, it made me recognize my feelings."

You smile, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him. He hugs you back without thinking twice, pulling you close and breathing you in. After a second, you pull away, and feel him tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

"I don't know, I'm feeling pretty damn lucky right now," you whisper.

Before either of you know it, he places his lips gently on yours. His hands move themselves to your cheeks once again, pulling you closer to him. You both can hear Topper and Kelce hooting and hollering from yards away, which makes you laugh against Rafe's lips.

"I regret bringing them," he says against your lips, laughing along with you.

"You should," you agree, standing on your tip-toes and kissing him one more time.

"Can I take you home, now? Please?" he asks, voice impatient.

You bite your lip and nod, allowing him to give you one last kiss before he brings a hand down to yours, wrapping his fingers through it. He turns you toward the boys, the oh-so happy boys, and leads you away.

Away from the beer. Away from JJ. Toward your future, together.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fingertips on me

5SOS Calum Hood fan fic

This was mainly inspired by the pretty nail polish Calum was wearing lately, so I ended up writing a random fic about it <3 not much else to say really, enjoy reading!!

Background: painting Cal's nails for him can be fun, but he's always a little impatient

Warnings: mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Y/n?”

Calum’s voice echoed through the apartment, reaching all the way to where you sat on your shared bed, busily typing away on your laptop. You looked up as he came into the room, a box in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Hey, y/n, can you help me out here?”

“Sure, love, what is it?” You shut your laptop and pushed it onto the bed beside you as he came over, fingers dancing through the bottles of nail polish that were neatly arranged in the box.

“I need to pick a colour, and I don’t know what will suit best…” he hummed as he sat beside you, picking out a bottle of bright pink to see the colour, then dropping it back and checking another one.

“You’re painting your nails?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, a shy smile dancing over his face. “Me and the boys wanted to do a photoshoot tomorrow and we all decided that we’d do our nails, and maybe a little makeup or something for it.”

You grinned back at him. “That sounds awesome, Cal.” You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and watching his fingers sort through the bottles, making soft clinking noises with every movement.

“You know I love when your nails are painted,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss onto his arm. He stopped sorting through the bottles for a second, picking up on what you were doing before you had even started.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you, his hand abandoning the polishes in favour of dragging a finger across your jaw, turning your gaze to him. He was sitting so close already, he just had to look down at your lips and you were done. How did he do this so effortlessly? His voice was low as he continued, “Well how about you help me paint them first, then you can look at them all you want.”

“Just look?” you said with a sly grin.

He smirked at that. “We’ll see. But we have to paint ‘em first, okay?” You just sighed as he turned back to the box, lifting out a bright orange one with a frown. “The fuck is this?” He spun the bottle around to read the label. “Sunburst Grapefruit. You couldn’t just call it orange could you? Pretentious bastards.” You chuckled at that, earning a smile from him.

“Do you know what colour you wanted? Did you guys have a theme in mind or something?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Ash said he’d do red, and Luke’s are already silver I think. And Michael wasn’t sure yet but I’m assuming he’d do black or something, you know him.” Calum raised his eyebrow a little as he picked out a dark purple-ish colour, holding it between his thumb and finger like it was an object of disgust.

“I’ve literally never seen you wear half of these colours, y/n, why do we have so many?”

“Well you never know when you might need some-” you checked the label of the one he was holding- “Aubergine Maroon.” You laughed at his evident confusion.

“It doesn’t even look like an aubergine, damn it,” he said as he put the bottle back with a little laugh of disbelief. “These names are so fucked up.”

You just laughed at his mocking. “Ok, ok, give it here. If you’re just going to insult all the ridiculous name choices then we’ll be here forever.” You took the box and placed it in your lap, fingers running through the colours until you found a dark blue one, almost navy coloured, and pulled it out for him to inspect. He put his arm out behind you so he could lean back a little, his other hand reaching across to hold the polish for a second. He shook his head.

“Too dark. They said it would be a low light shoot,” he said.

You nodded and placed the bottle back in its place. “How about this one?” The cornflower yellow was certainly lighter. He screwed up his nose though.

“Maybe the cooler colours would be better,” he leaned forward to watch your fingers dance over the blues and purples, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Not green?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, how about this one?” You pulled out a baby blue colour, a lighter shade of sky blue. He hummed in thought for a second.

“Actually…yeah, that might work.” He reached out his hand to hold it.

“See,” you nodded at the pale bottle in his tanned hand. “It contrasts your skin nicely.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him laugh.

“Ok Miss Sunshine, now you can help me paint them,” he said with a smile as he took the box from your hand and stood. “Cause lord knows I’d fuck it up in two seconds flat if I did it by myself.” He walked out the door without checking to see if you were following.

“Come on, y/n, let’s go.”

---

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“What did you expect, tough guy? Quit whining will you,” you told Calum with a smile as you began painting his nails with the baby blue colour polish. You were sitting at the kitchen table now, his hands spread out in front of you as you applied the polish as neatly as you could, a frown creasing your brow as you concentrated.

“It tickles.”

“Shh.”

A moment of silence passed. A few more nails finished. Then his free hand started tapping on the table a little, the sound of his rings echoing on the wood as he started a beat. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He just smirked.

“Sorry.”

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?”

It was hard to fight off the grin when he was staring at you so sweetly, mock innocence all over his face. “Yes, please.” He wiggled his fingers to bring your attention back to them. You huffed out what might have been a laugh as you went back to painting, quickly finishing off that hand and holding out your hand for the next one. He switched them over, placing the other hand in front of you as he blew on the freshly painted nails.

“You look like such a diva,” you giggled.

“That’s cause I am one.” He grinned, giving you an imaginary hair flick before blowing more on his nails. You laughed at him. What a dork.

You quickly finished up his second hand and screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “There you go, Cal. Now just don’t touch anything for ten minutes and I’ll do the second coat for you then, okay?” You stood from the table, stopping in front of him when you noticed his pout.

You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes, diva?”

“But what am I meant to do for ten minutes?” his whiny voice was saying something completely different to his wide eyes as they watched you lean down in front of him, matching his sitting height.

“I’m sure you can find some way to amuse yourself,” you said quietly, eyes dropping to his lips, then dragging up his face back to meet his dark eyes. “Unless you can’t even do that by yourself.” You reached out and flicked his nose with a cheeky smile, tutting when he went to grab your wrist. “Uh uh, no touching, remember?”

“Not fair,” he mumbled, another pout turning his lips downwards.

“God, you’re pathetic,” you muttered as you straightened up. “Come on then. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

---

You flicked the TV on to play quietly as Calum went and sat on the sofa, careful not to brush the wet nail polish on anything as he went. He sat and looked up at you with a little grin, hands spread out on his thighs so he wouldn't bump them into anything. You just smiled and shook your head at him. He really was like a little kid sometimes.

You sat down next to him, remote in hand, surfing through the channels until you landed on a sports one. You knew he liked watching soccer matches, so you let that play.

Finally quiet and content, Cal just watched you as you tucked up your legs and leant into his side. He carefully lifted his arm and settled his hand on the back of the sofa, leaving room for you to properly snuggle into his chest, which you did. He was deliciously warm and cuddly in his big hoodie.

“You happy now, diva?”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Mm hmm. Be happier if I could touch you though,” he whispered into your hair. You could hear his cheeky smile.

“Well just wait a few minutes,” you checked the clock on the wall, “then you can touch me all you want, princess.”

You casually lay a hand on his thigh as you pretended to watch the TV, slowly picking at the loose threads of his distressed jeans, and smoothing out wrinkles in the denim. Completely unnecessary touches, you both knew that.

“Y/n.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t.”

You smirked as you turned your head and leant back to look at him properly. “Don’t what?” you asked innocently, a hand still resting on his leg.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he almost growled, even as he fought off a little smile. “You could let me kiss you at least.”

“Okay, princess,” you said quietly, a smile quirking up the corner of your mouth.

That was all he needed to hear before he leant towards you, connecting his lips to yours ferociously. You could feel the strain in his arms as he willed himself not to touch you, to only taste with his lips. You indulged him for a long while, letting him bite at your lips and swipe his tongue along yours before you gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

You just looked at the clock, then back into his dark eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. They should be dry now.”

The smirk he gave you was pure evil as his hands were finally free of their invisible restraints, one coming to rest on your jaw and draw you in for another hungry kiss, then both hands slipping down to your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap. You gasped a little in surprise at the sudden movement, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

Your legs straddled him as his wandering hands came to rest on your thighs for a moment, before drifted back to your waist, then up and over your back. He couldn’t stop touching you now as his mouth explored your, drinking you in as much as he could.

You eventually parted for breath, a smile on your red and swollen lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Only ten minutes, and you were that desperate.” You said quietly, making him blush a little through a smile.

“Only for you, princess.”

“Hey, don’t steal my nickname,” you laughed as you swatted at Calum’s chest, before crawling off his lap.

“What, it’s cute,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand, chuckling at your clumsiness.

You just smiled in response as you went and retrieved the bottle of nail polish from the kitchen table. You came back and sat beside him again, holding his hand still against his thigh as you balanced the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, dipping in the brush and spreading the polish over his nails once more, easily falling back into the rhythm.

A moment of silence passed as he watched you, then, “How long will this one take to dry?”

You grinned at him, pure, evil delight on your face.

“Twenty minutes.”

Thanks for reading!! Check out my [masterlist] for more fics <3

(and thanks to @theduckgoesquack for helping me with this one, ily jocelyn 😌)

[sugarylawliet]

AAAA OMG CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE SOME MORE OF TOXIC LIGHT SMUT when i tell you im absolutely in love-

yes!! sorry this took forever omg 

> warnings: smut, jealousy, some degreation 

“I don’t know how I feel about working with a Second Kira. What if it’s a trap?”

You stand arms-crossed in Light’s bedroom, him sitting casually in his rolling chair near his desk, awaiting the arrival of the supposed Second Kira.

“I know what I’m doing. If this was a trap, how would L know about shinigami? Notebooks? Shinigami eyes? Just trust me, I’ve got this all under control.”

You did trust Light, of course. You placed your life in his hands the minute he revealed himself as Kira, and you wouldn’t change that for the world. Yet still, Light may be the brains, but it all felt too convenient. Someone, somehow suddenly has a death note, is a follower of Kira, and so eagerly wants to meet up with him? At no cost, no trick or catch? It just didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know, it feels too easy. I have a bad feeling.”

“I think,” Light stands up from his seated position, slowly walking towards you. “You’re a little jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just worried.”

“Worried?” He traces the curve of your jawline with his index finger, radiating warmth from his calloused yet delicate, almost soft hands, the same ones that murdered thousands with the flick of a pen felt so graceful in the gentle way they caressed your skin, so beautiful in the way they moved methodically, like a choir director stroking music notes. “About me? Y/N, you know me. I’m not stupid enough to fall into a trap.”

“I know, I know, it’s just-”

You’re cut off with the loud ring of the doorbell, the sound pulling the attention of both you and Light as your heads turned towards the closed bedroom door. Silently, the two of you exit his bedroom, walking down the stairs and into the living room to open the front door, revealing a petite blonde girl clad in a black dress, strips of patterned lace decorating her carefully put together outfit. She was gorgeous, yes; pretty and feminine in a way that sank your heart. Was she trying to impress Kira? Or did it just come naturally to her, she was always this done up? You dug your nails into your palms.

“Good morning, my name is Misa Amane,” The girl spoke, “You left your notebook at school, so I brought it...”

Light stepped foreword, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you outside as he shut the door behind you.

“Nice to meet you...I’m Misa Amane. I figured you’d be worried after what was on the TV, and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You clenched your jaw a little tighter. Yes, the Kira broadcast on the TV, the one she made, the one that made Kira look stupid. Was she an idiot?

“This notebook...” She reached out her hands, offering out a small black notebook. Her death note? You glanced at Light, to which he responded with an assuring nod, before placing his two fingers on the death note. You did the same.

Your gaze rose up from the black book and back at Misa; behind the small-framed girl manifested a towering, looming figure, it’s bones a dusty white, spiking at its shoulders like spears. Her shinigami? It looked different than Ryuk.

Light rubbed the bridge of his nose before opening the front door back up, “Come on in.”

“Oh, you’re inviting me up to your room?” She stepped in, “Yay!”

                 ___________________________

“You don’t look to happy Y/N. Was it Misa?”

You roll your eyes at Light’s remark. Of course it was Misa. How could it not be Misa? Light flirted back with her, and he did it on purpose. All just to get a rise out of you- and you hate to admit it was working.

“Aw, are you a little jealous maybe? I think you’re overreacting.” He continued.

“Overreacting? She asked to be your girlfriend. She called you darling. And you were playing into it. I have a right to be upset, it’s not unjustified.”

‘I’m sorry...” Light slowly paces foreword, walking you backwards until your back hits the wall. He places his hands outstretched against the wall on either side of your head, almost trapping you, “Are you talking back to me?” He lowers his head, softy tracing your neck with the tip of his nose, excruciatingly careful not to let his lips touch your skin. 

Nervously, you swallow hard, earning a smirk from the brunette. “N...No, Light. Of course not.”

“No who?” His fingers slowly graze your body, caressing your arms, your stomach, your waist; lower and lower, inching towards the place you wanted them most.

“No, Kira.”

“Good girl.” He remarks, finally dipping his fingers into your underwear. He runs his fingers along your slit teasingly. God, he was so arrogant, so pretentious, but you could never get enough.

“You’re so wet for me already? Loyal little girl.” He lifts his hand slightly so his middle finger rubs your clit in circles. You whimper in pleasure, you needed more.

“Kira, please.”

“Please what? I want you to beg for it.” He presses his finger harder against your clit, causing your knees to buckle slightly beneath you. 

“Please Kira, I need you. Please, just finger me, I need something, just no more teasing.” You managed.

“Well since you asked so nicely~” Light dips two slender fingers inside you, pumping in and out, using his free thumb to circle your clit. He drank in your small moans and whines with a small smirk, picking up the rhythmic pace of his fingers each time your legs trembled, adding a third finger until you were reduced to a moaning mess. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your G-spot.

“Fuck, Kira.” You moaned as you road out your orgasm, your words muffled by the hand that now covered your mouth. Right, his parents were still home.

“K-Kira, please, I need more. Please, fuck me.”

“Oh?” Light pulls his hand from your panties, earning a whimper from you at the loss of heat. “You think you get to make demands like that after you misbehaved all night? After you got jealous of some girl? After you distrusted your god? Nuh-uh, on your knees, now.”

“But-” You attempted to protest before Light roughly shoved you onto the ground by your shoulders, leaving you on your knees in front of him.

“Now Y/N, show me just how much more you love me than Misa.”

------------------------

A/N: alright I wanted to put a disclaimer at the end cuz this one kinda felt... misogynistic?? LMFAO. honestly i hate the trope where there’s a girl friends with a guy and then another girl comes along and she hates her, it just gives a lot of “pick me” girl vibes. buttt i knew i wanted Y/N to be jealous in this one, and who else would she be jealous of than misa? so yeah, disclaimer over lmfao

[llogllady99]

Au revoir

CHARACTERS |  Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.” 

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

-

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels  adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

-

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

-

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

-

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

-

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

-

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

-

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

-

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

[reciprocityfic]

passing afternoons

title: passing afternoons fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march  rating: m summary: “did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

he blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying. after her? there is no after her. there never will be.

then, he stops. thinks. she means...oh. oh.

she means after that time in the garden, in paris. when he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him. left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

oh.

(laurie and amy spend a late summer afternoon talking about the past.)

author’s note: i've literally shipped laurie and amy since like fourth grade. so when i saw little women (2019) and found out it did my bbs justice, i basically cried. i've been meaning to write fic ever since, but alas, here we are almost a year later. i hope you enjoy it anyways.

i have another fic in the works that's longer and definitely more angsty, which i hope to post relatively soon. i also hope to write more fluff (also maybe smut???) for them in the coming months bc GOD i just love imagining these two together. in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed this!

xoxo, rebekah

passing afternoons

They enjoy being lazy after sex.

They’re not always afforded the opportunity, of course.  At night, they tend to fall asleep rather quickly afterwards, exhausted and sated and tangled together.  And the occasional forbidden interlude - when they’re some party or gathering wholly bland or pretentious and the two of them (sometimes tipsy, sometimes bored, always and perpetually desperate for each other) run off to some dark corner or isolated room where he lifts the skirt of her dress and the too-many layers underneath and uses his body to press hers against the wall as he sinks into her from behind and they pray their moans and the sounds of their bodies together won’t be heard - must be short and altogether swift, no time to dwell in the aura of the sensations and feelings between them.

But then, there are days when Grandfather is occupied with the business and the Marches are busy and they dismiss the servants.  It’s just the two of them in their grand house with time that seems to stretch on and on.  Sometimes they’ll make it a game of sorts, shamelessly flirt and tempt each other to see who will break first, but oftentimes they’ll share a look and a smile and then they’re off in a race to their horizontal surface of choice.

Today is one of those days, when they’ve nowhere to be, nothing to do, and are all alone.  It’s an unusually hot day in late September, and when Amy had complained about the warmth, he’d suggested she take her blouse off.  She’d raised an eyebrow and told him to go first, and then one thing led to another and now they’re naked and sore and satisfied, laying on their bed as the early afternoon sun shines in through their open windows.

He lays on top of the sheets on his back, head at the foot of the bed and hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find imaginary patterns in swirling paint.  She lays parallel to him, but leans against the headboard, her long blonde hair falling around her face as she sketches him.  He hadn’t seen her take out the pad and pencil she keeps in the dresser near their bed, but he can hear the sound of graphite moving against paper as she draws.  He grins as he imagines her face, lips pursed and brow furrowed, wide green eyes focused and the movement of her hand knowing nothing but purpose even with the most casual of sketches.

They do not touch and do not talk.  Still, the intimacy of the situation - of being together and completely safe and comfortable with the person you love most in the world - is overwhelming.  Its warmth cocoons him, and he feels his eyes getting heavy as he lies there, a breeze blowing in from the open window and caressing his skin.

“You had your many dalliances after Jo, yes?”

His eyes snap open when he hears her question, his stomach lurching slightly and his mood dampening.

He ran away to Europe and drowned himself in alcohol, drugs, and women after Jo broke his heart, and he admits this.  Amy knows it, too.  And it’s not that he’s ashamed of that period of time, exactly - while he wishes he had, indeed, bore it better, he finds himself sympathetic to the plight of people scorned by love, however misguided that love might be.

He just doesn’t often talk about it.  Doesn’t like to.  In his mind and in his heart, it is only Amy.  Has always been, and always will be.

Amy doesn’t really like to talk about it, either.  He finds her inquiry curious, but answers anyway.

“Yes,” he tells her, although the word comes out sounding more like a question than an answer.

He waits for her to explain her line of thought, but she simply hums to herself.  He stares at the ceiling a moment longer, then leans up, resting his weight on his elbows.

She’s staring down at her drawing, her face just as he pictured it, pencil grasped between her lips as she swipes her thumb against the paper.  He watches as she takes the pencil out of her mouth and starts at it again, and he watches her for nearly a minute before opening his mouth to speak.

She beats him to it, though.

“Did you have any dalliances after me?” she asks.

He blinks hard as his brain reels for a moment, as he struggles to comprehend what she’s saying.  After her?  There is no after her.  There never will be.

Then, he stops.  Thinks.  She means...oh.  Oh.

She means after that time in the garden, in Paris.  When he’d first revealed his feelings for her, and she’d rejected him.  Left him standing there alone and feeling like an utter, hopeless idiot.

Oh.

He shifts on the bed, drops his eyes from her face.  He can feel his skin begin to flush from embarrassment.

They’ve never talked about this before.

Not that there’s much to talk about, he supposes.  He still hesitates to tell her - not because he fears she’ll be angry with him, but because he doesn’t like to talk about it.  If it were up to him, he would erase from his mind the memory of every woman he’d ever been with until only his wife remained.

But she’s asked, and he’ll be honest with her.

“One, I suppose,” he murmurs.

“You suppose?” she questions.  She’s still staring down at her artwork, but her pencil doesn’t move.

“Sort of, yes,” he confirms.

She finally looks at him, her eyebrows pulled together and a frown on her face.

“How do you sort of have a dalliance?”

She looks genuinely confused, and he laughs lightly at the crease between her brows, sits up fully and reaches out to her.  He cups her face and uses his thumb to rub at the wrinkle of skin.

“Shall I explain?” he asks her.

She nods.

“I...tried to be angry after you left.  Just think - to be turned down by not just one, but two March girls!” he gasps playfully, and she snickers, pushing against his shoulder playfully before dropping her hand to run over the sparse hair on his chest.

“But?” she prompts.

"But I couldn’t make myself angry.  Not at you.  But I also knew I couldn’t just stay there in France and watch you and Fred Vaughn…”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“We’re speaking of all your affairs, and you want to tease about Fred?”

“It’s part of my story!” he insists with a wink, and she rolls her eyes again.

“Well, keep telling it.”

He smiles, and continues.

“I couldn’t stay, so I did what you told me to.  I went to London, as you know.  And when I first got there, there was a woman staying at the same hotel as I was.  We got to talking one evening at dinner, and one thing…”

He trails off, feeling himself flush again.

“...led to another,” Amy finishes.  “I understand.  I don’t need the details.”

She’s frowning now, even though her fingers still run over his chest, and he despises it.  He has half a mind to drop the subject, to kiss her lips and make her happy and forget life before, but he can’t.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

“Laurie, I don’t need to hear any more.  You had your dalliance, I’m not upset, and we can stop - “

“I couldn’t do it,” he interrupts.  “It didn’t work.”

She pulls back from him slightly, her eyes wide and curious.  She looks down his body.

“You mean you couldn’t...?”

He follows her gaze, and then snorts.

“Not like that.  It - it didn’t even get to that.  Amy, my dear.”

He lifts her chin, and she gazes at him.  He can tell she’s still confused.

“Every time I closed my eyes,” he explains, “I saw you - the face you made in the garden before you turned away and left.  It broke my heart.  It still breaks my heart.  And when my eyes were open, all I could think about was how her skin wasn’t as soft and her hair wasn’t as fair and her eyes were brown instead of green and she just...wasn’t you.”

“But with Jo...”

“It was different with Jo.  I could make Jo into anyone.  I could always pick out the tiniest thing that reminded me of her, in any woman, and then pretend that woman was her.  I couldn’t...do that with you.  Or maybe I didn’t want to.  In any case, being with that woman didn’t make me forget.  She made me remember all the more.  And I only kissed her for about a minute before I realized it was worthless.”

He stops and grabs one of her hands, brings it to his mouth so he can kiss her fingertips, before holding it over his heart.

“And that’s when I knew that this was different.  You weren’t Jo, and I wasn’t going to be able to just...drink and fuck you away.”

She’d normally gasp and swat him playfully for his use of the coarse word, but now she stays silent and presses her hand more firmly against his chest.

“I was in love with you.  Hopelessly and completely.  And I realized that all I could do was stay in London and toil away and... pray that somehow you would change your mind.”

Then, everything had changed.  Beth died, and then he knew he had to be with her.  It didn’t matter if she despised him, or if Fred was there.  He needed to be with her.  But before that, he had been rather resigned to his fate - to work for his grandfather and forever pine after Amy March.

God had smiled upon him, though.  And now, here he sits with his wife, Amy Laurence.  Married, in love, and happy.

“So does that explain how one can have a single, sort-of dalliance?” he asks her.

But she stares at him, eyes shining, almost with tears.

“You were going to wait your whole life for me?” she whispers.

He smirks slightly, turning away from her and shrugging, somehow embarrassed.  But she grabs his face, turns it back to her, and locks their gazes.

“What else would you have me do, my lady?”

“Oh, my lord,” she breathes, and kisses him deeply, until his toes curl and he can feel himself begin to harden once again.  When she pulls away, they’re both panting.  He wants to grab her, to gather her up in his arms again, but her pad and pencil remains between them.

He motions to the picture.

“Still working on that, Raphaella?”

“Maybe later,” she remarks, taking the paper and all but throwing it on the floor beside the bed.  She pushes him back so he’s laying once again, and climbs on top of him, straddling his waist.  “I have another idea how we can pass time this afternoon.”

She leans down and kisses his smiling mouth.

Yes, God had smiled upon him.  Had given him back his love.  And he’s married, in love, and happy.

Achingly happy.

[ellewritesathing]

You’re My Problem

Summary: What happens when you take unrequited love, throw in some jealousy, and add a dash of impulsivity? You get a recipe for disaster.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: this was requested by @i-write-things-sometimes-x​ a forever ago. thank you for being so patient and i’m so sorry it took so long for me to write this!! 💕

Stiles’ Stilinski was a dumbass. He was impulsive, he was reckless, and he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Lydia Martin for longer than five minutes. But he was also the one who brought you soup when you were sick, the one who remembered your birthday, and the one you’d been in love with since before you could remember. 

He’d been oblivious to all your attempts of getting him to see you as something other than a friend pretty much for as long as you’d known him. Erica thought it was hilarious, and she never let you live down the mouth-to-mouth debacle after he’d almost drowned with the kanima venom. She’d been nicer about it, though, since Lydia and Stiles had their own moment of panic-induced lip-locking. 

But it wasn’t just Erica that changed - everything was different after their kiss. As dramatic as your reaction seemed when you looked back on it, something inside you snapped that day, and all of your pent-up rage from being powerless in a town of supernaturals bubbled to the surface. You convinced Derek to turn you, and things between you, Stiles, and Scott had never been the same. 

“And here I thought you came to lacrosse practice for me.” Isaac set down his gear with a grin and grabbed your water bottle. The light caught on his eyelashes as he drank, painting delicate ribbons down his cheeks as long as his chin was tilted up to the sky.

Erica didn’t care about how pretty Isaac could be, because she didn’t find him nearly as pretty as the lacrosse players packing up on the field. She rolled her eyes and pushed Isaac to the side, not bothering to adjust her strength in the process. “Move over, lover boy. You’re blocking my view.” 

Armed with an evil grin and the knowledge that Erica couldn’t do anything to him in front of all these people, Isaac moved directly in front of her and tilted his head. “Didn’t Derek tell you to be nicer to people?” 

“Derek also told me not to smother you in your sleep, so-” Erica reached forward, hand extended almost as gently as to move one of his curls out of his face, and shoved him to the ground “-you better watch out.” She drummed her fingers on the bleachers with an evil smile of her own before jumping up to follow one of the lacrosse boys off the field. 

Laughing off Erica’s dramatics and shaking your head, you got up and held a hand out to help Isaac to his feet. “Come on.” You waved your fingers when he didn’t reach out. “You stink and the sooner you shower, the sooner I get lunch.” 

“Yeah?” Isaac reached up for your hand and leaned on his other elbow for support. “That kinda sucks for you.” 

It was your own fault for not noticing the glint of mischief in his eye before he wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to the ground next to him. Soon enough, the two of you were rolling around the field (you trying to get up and him ruining every attempt) and laughing just like you always did. Your hands were barely intertwined, but it was still enough to feel his pulse racing. 

“Are you two done? Because Coach is gonna turn on the sprinklers in like five minutes.” 

Your heartbeat shot up at the sound of Stiles’ voice. Clumsily, you untangled yourself from Isaac and sat up. It didn’t matter whether you were human or superhuman, facing a cute boy or the monster of the week, nothing made you more nervous than Stiles Stilinski. “Yeah, we were just- uh, just leaving to grab some lunch. You wanna come with?” 

“Thanks, but I kinda lost my appetite.” Stiles waited an awkward moment and then shrugged, rolled his lacrosse stick over in his hand, and started walking away. The faded number 24 bobbed up and down as he walked away from you, like a boat treading very uncertain waters.

You let out a deep breath and hid your head in your hands. It didn’t matter what you did, conversations with Stiles always ended awkwardly or with one of you leaving. At least this way, you couldn’t see the embarrassing aftermath.

“Oh, come on-” Isaac knocked your knee with his, letting out a laugh. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes before you turned to face him. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

“He hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you.” 

“Ever since I turned, it’s like he can’t even bear to look at me.” 

“And you are so hard to look at,” Isaac said with a grin. He rolled his eyes again and let out a low laugh. If he was going to say anything else about your massively mortifying crush on Stiles Stilinski, he didn’t get the chance. The sprinklers switched on.

---

You were a real pain in the ass. You were annoyingly right about everything, you always had to get your own way, and you could barely focus on anything that wasn’t Isaac Lahey for longer than five minutes. But you were also the one that watched Star Wars with him when he couldn’t sleep, the one that saved him a seat in English, and the one Stiles had been in love with since before he could remember. 

Even after the world went to hell in a handbasket, Stiles thought he might have had a shot with you. All he had to do was find the right time to talk to you - and it seemed like the perfect time after you saved him from drowning - but he waited too long. Somehow something always came around to ruin his perfect moment. Eventually, you turned and traded him in for the one and only Isaac ‘Pretentious Asshole’ Lahey.

In the understatement of the century, Scott said, “Dude, you should just talk to her,” in that aggravatingly optimistic way of his. 

“Yeah? I should just talk to her, and tell her that I love her, and then maybe we’ll just walk off into the sunset like a Julia Roberts movie?” Stiles was robbed of the satisfaction of his snark by Scott’s dumbstruck face. “Oh my god, what is it now? What’s with the face?” 

Scott scrunched up his face and pulled on the straps of his backpack. He rocked on his heels defensively. “I don’t have a face.”

“You totally have a face, okay?” Stiles waved his hand in front of Scott’s face. “This right here is the face you make when it’s tater tot day.”

Scott shrugged and tried to play it cool. “It’s nothing, just-” He took a deep breath, leaned in, and said, “You just said that you love her. That’s all.” With another trademark Scott McCall shrug and smile, he started walking off to make his English class before the second bell.

“Well…” Stiles said to an empty hallway. He let out a heavy sigh and slammed his locker. “Shit.” 

---

You’d spent your entire life pining over Stiles Stilinski. All those years wasted on a guy who didn’t have feelings for you, when there was a perfectly sweet distraction right next to him. Sure, maybe Isaac didn’t know your favorite movie candy and he didn’t always know the right thing to say when you were having a bad day, but he snuck you out of detention and he didn’t make you so tongue-tied that you couldn’t speak in complete sentences. 

Isaac was fun. He made you feel witty. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was fun.

This night was the closest to perfect you’d had in a long time: Lydia’s epic homecoming party. There were copious amounts of alcohol and scarce supervision, you and Isaac were dancing, and the full moon wasn’t for another week. It was as perfect as you were ever going to get … and yet you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Stiles. 

Outright staring at him would have been preferable, but he had been glowering at you ever since Isaac, Erica, and Boyd showed up. If you didn’t want to see the look of annoyance that was almost permanently on his face when it came to you, then stealing glances would have to be enough. 

It was a shame, though, because there was something so magnetic about him tonight. Maybe it was the effortlessness that made him attractive. He was slightly overdue for a haircut, so he was dragging a hand through it every other minute in that nervous way of his. Even though his plaid was one of the too big ones Noah had bought for Christmas a few years ago, his t-shirt was one from the older collection that he was in the process of outgrowing. Disheveled suited him; he was almost perfect. If the annoyed look on his face would disappear, so would the ‘almost.’

Isaac ducked his head down to speak to you over the blare of the music, lip grazing your ear as he spoke. “You’re doing that thing again.” 

“What thing?” you asked, trying to brighten up when you looked up at him. You should have tried harder, but dancing with Isaac and being witty wasn’t a priority when Stiles was so mad at you. 

The corners of Isaac’s mouth curled up and he tilted his head to the side. You knew that Stiles was the thing, even if he didn’t say it while he twirled you out.

Isaac pulled you in slightly too quickly, so you collapsed into him more than anything else. The two of you were still laughing and cracking jokes about super-healing when you caught a glimpse of Stiles angrily swigging what was left of a beer and disappearing into the house. 

For a moment, all the sweaty teens and bright lights faded away. You untangled yourself from Isaac quickly and clumsily before rushing out an “I gotta go” and pushing your way through the crowd. 

It was easier to breathe when you reached the second floor without so many people around. The only problem was that all the air disappeared the moment you were alone with Stiles. It was the first time in months that you’d spent any time alone together, and the fact that he was more than a little tipsy wasn’t making things any easier. 

Still, you followed him into one of the rooms and closed the door. “Hey, Stiles, are you doing okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually, I’m just peachy.” Stiles dropped the necklace he was fiddling with and brushed his nose with his thumb. “Perfect. Nothing to complain about, you know? At least no one’s trying to kill me this week.” 

“Sounds like maybe you should be celebrating,” you said carefully, trying not to spook him as you made your way over. “You know, instead of hanging out up here, going through Lydia’s great aunt’s jewelry.”

Stiles let out a hollow laugh and turned awkwardly to the jewelry box on the dresser. He shrugged and picked up the necklace again. “But it’s so shiny and I’m so awkward,” he whined. 

You took a few steps closer to take the necklace out of his hands before he broke the clasp. “You’re not awkward.” Stiles gave you a sideways look and you laughed. “Okay, maybe you’re a little awkward, but it’s an endearing kind of awkward.” 

Stiles stubbornly refused to give you the necklace without a fight, and the chain was caught in the crossfire. The both of you panicked and scrambled to fix it, but this wasn’t the kind of necklace that two teenagers and a pair of tweezers could fix. 

Stiles gave up struggling over the necklace and let out a heavy sigh, hand curling over one half of the broken chain and the bathroom sink. The necklace had been the only thing keeping the weight of the world off his shoulders - the only thing keeping Stiles tipsy and happy instead of almost drunk and kind of sad. “Just forget it,” he said. His voice was raw. “No amount of trying is gonna fix it.” 

“Don’t say that.” You grabbed Stiles’ half of the chain out of his hand and put it next to the other half on the counter. Willing the chains to fuse back together and decidedly not looking at Stiles, you said, “You can’t just give up like that.” 

“Why not? The necklace is broken and I broke it. I can’t fix it.” 

“You can at least try to fix it.” 

“Maybe it doesn’t wanna be fixed. Maybe it’s happier with the stupid scarf, alright?” 

“Wait, what scarf?” When he didn’t answer, you looked up from the necklace to find him staring guiltily at the floor. “Stiles, please don’t tell me there’s some ruined Hermes scarf up here because Lydia will kill me.” 

Still no answer. 

As gently as you could, you reached out to touch his shoulder. “Stiles-”

“Just forget it!” Stiles snapped, pulling away before you could touch him. He almost crashed into the door in his hurry to get away from you. “Go dance with your scarf, okay? You two deserve one another.” 

Stiles stormed into the bedroom, and you stormed after him. You caught his arm before he even made it halfway across the room. “Okay, man, what the hell is your problem?” 

“My problem?” Stiles echoed. “You wanna know what my problem is?” 

“Yes! You’ve been glaring at me all night, avoiding me for like six months, and- what? Now you’re freaking out over a broken necklace?” You took a step closer to him, pulse racing. “So, what’s your problem?” 

“Okay, you know what? You’re my problem.” Stiles was so close that you didn’t need werewolf superpowers to feel all the emotions coming off him. “We were best friends until you ditched me for Isaac Freaking Lahey, okay? We used to hang out like all the time, and now we barely spend any time together unless someone’s trying to kill us. And you’re impossible to talk to-” 

“I’m impossible to talk to?” you echoed. “Stiles, you cringe every time you see me.” 

“I do not!” he said defensively, scrunching his face slightly. “Okay, maybe I do but that’s because whenever I see you, Isaac’s following you around like a puppy dog.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. The puppy comment was a cheap shot and it wasn’t like Stiles could complain when he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t have feelings for you. “So is your problem actually with me? Because so far all you’ve done is talk about Isaac.” 

“I don’t- it’s both of you, alright?” Stiles let out a shaky breath and looked away. He took a second to run a hand down the side of his face before speaking again. “My problem is that I have feelings for you and you don’t even know I exist anymore.” 

No amount of accelerated werewolf reflexes could have prepared you for that. For a second, you were too surprised to respond. “You … have feelings for me? I thought you were in love with Lydia.” 

Stiles snorted. “Please, she kissed me once and it was terrible for both of us.” He shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to say while you adjusted to the information. “Besides,” he said in a much slower, much quieter voice, “it’s not like she’s you.”

“Isaac hates Star Wars,” you said quietly, staring at the bullseye in the middle of Stiles’ shirt instead of meeting his eyes.

“God, I hate that guy,” Stiles mumbled. He looked around the room awkwardly before landing on the tv in the corner. “You wanna, uh, watch something with me? I really don’t want to go back down there.”

You nodded without giving it any thought, looking up at Stiles and giving him the first real smile you’d had all night. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great!” Stiles gave a short laugh before slowing his breathing and looking at you so seriously that you thought your heart would stop. “Just, uh, one more thing?” he asked, voice quiet and delicate again. You started rambling, but the words fell away as soon as Stiles lifted his hands to either side of your face. The whole world slowed for a moment, coming almost to a complete stand-still when he pressed his lips against yours. “There,” Stiles said softly. “I’ve been thinking about that since freshman year.”

Despite all the anxiety racing through your system, or maybe because of it, you laughed. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening as you reached a hand up to the side of Stiles’ neck. Time slowed again as you leaned up on your toes, kissed him again, and realized that maybe this night was perfect after all. 

[kpop-zone]

A Little Longer pt.3 | Jennie

Warnings: indicated smut, mentioning of blood, a few curse words, alcohol abuse

Wordcount: 4,765

A/N: Sorry guys for the mini hiatus, I just got really caught up writing this and forgot writing anything else. This story is still not finished, but I really wanted to post something, so here’s Part 3 for now. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

Part 1 Part 2

Jennie giggled silently as she stumbled through the hallway to the living room.

“This one looks like a butt.”

She laughed when she looked at one of Jiyong’s paintings. Fascinated, she paused in front of it while taking a few more sips from a bottle that she had stolen from the kitchen. Loud chatter from the living room, however, reminded her again what she was doing here in the first place.

“Oh right, I can’t let the nobs wait.”

Shakily, Jennie continued her way until she reached the entrance of the living room. The guests inside were all engaged in a lively conversation and their happy faces were disgusting her. They were all so pretentious and selfish. After another hefty sip from the bottle, Jennie put it down in the hallway and stumbled into the room. Not everyone noticed her right away but after she accidentally ran into a cabinet in the process of trying to walk straight, all heads turned the same time. Jennie tried her best to play it off, but when she noticed your gaze resting on her, her knees felt even weaker than before. The way to her seat suddenly seemed to be seven miles long; especially because the whole room was spinning. But eventually, she plopped down on her chair, feeling the eyes of the other guests burning holes into her.

“Excuse my interruption, I haven’t eaten anything today and was feeling a little dizzy.”

Jennie uttered tediously, feeling like her tongue was heavy like lead. Sheepishly, she let her gaze wander around the faces in the room. Some were still staring at her skeptically, but soon all of them flashed her a reprieving smile before returning to their conversation.

“Back to what I was saying. I think that actress must be an arrogant diva. Denying a fan an autograph? As if she didn’t owe her whole career to her fans...”

The same man that had made the inappropriate comment about your plus one (Jennie refused to call her your girlfriend) scoffed, and Jennie couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Usually she was already used to dimwitted remarks like that, but the alcohol had unfortunately lowered her level of tolerance.

“Yeah right, because she belongs to the public, doesn’t she?”

Jennie snarled, feeling her bottled-up emotions threatening to burst. The guy looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of him, apparently not being used to someone talking back.

“No, that’s not what I meant. But celebrities hold a certain responsibility that they can’t just discard.”

He responded self-opinionated, causing Jennie to laugh bitterly. She was tired of people making her feel like they were omniscient and had complete power over her.

“Responsibility? Responsibility for what? To make a wimp like you feel powerful?”

After Jennie’s statement the whole room fell quiet. Her words had been harsh, but they were true, so she didn’t even think about apologizing. With a triumphant smirk she looked into the dumbfounded face of the guy, watching how he struggled with his words.

“Jennie, you must be drunk. We don’t know you like that.”

Hyerim, another one of her so called “friends”, broke the silence in order to safe him from further embarrassment.

But Jennie had had enough of this.

Everyone at this table could go to hell as far as she cared. They were stuck in their own little worlds, too occupied with themselves to try to emphasize with someone else. And she couldn’t stand being in such a toxic environment right now. Therefore, Jennie pushed her chair back with force, causing it to loudly fall over before storming out of the room without any further explanation.

“Such an asshole!!”

She yelled in the hallway after slamming the front door shut before weaving to the elevator.

This whole dinner had been a dead loss and Jennie regretted having talked Jiyong into hosting it. Angrily, she kicked against the elevator door because she had to wait way too long to finally be able to leave this godforsaken place. But even after she had left the building, Jennie couldn’t calm down. The alcohol had failed its purpose to make her numb and had stirred up all her emotions instead. It felt like her whole system was overheating. Her brain was working at full capacity, her heart was slamming against her ribcage and all of her senses were desperately trying to fight against the influence of the alcohol.

Therefore, Jennie had to take several breaks on the way to her car as her stomach needed to get rid of the toxic liquid that was clogging her system. With shaking hands, she eventually reached the car and rummaged around in her handbag until she pulled out her car key to unlock her car. It almost slipped out of her hand, but after fidgeting a while, Jennie finally managed to press the right button. Just when she was about to open the door though, she suddenly got yanked around.

“You’re not driving like that.”

Out of nowhere, you were suddenly standing in front of her, your voice being able to freeze the ocean and your face absolutely unreadable.

“Let go off me!”

With a harsh movement, Jennie ripped herself free from your grasp and huffed in annoyance.

“Give me the key.”

You said calmly while holding out your hand, but Jennie wasn’t even thinking about giving it to you.

“No.”

Childishly, she wrapped her fingers even tighter around it and hid it behind her back.

“Could you please stop behaving like a five-year old?”

Your patience seemed to run out and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Could you please stop meddling in things that are none of your business? Just go back to your perfect girlfriend.”

Jennie bickered back, apparently striking a nerve according to the sour expression on your face.

“Leave her out of this.”

You snarled, but Jennie’s torn open wounds and the alcohol in her system prevented her from knowing her limits.

“Why? Is she even too good for me to take her name into my mouth? I mean, I understand. She’s really beautiful and her clothes weren’t cheap either, so she has to be wealthy. Must really be a little Miss Perfect.”

She could see that you were gritting your teeth in anger, but you kept calm.

“Just give me the keys, Jennie...”

You sounded like you were tired of this charade, but Jennie was in full spate and didn’t want to stop now.

“We shouldn’t do this to Miss Perfect. You should go back to her and tell her what an awful person I am. Isn’t this why she is here? So you can spite me? To make me realize what a failure I am and-“

Jennie didn’t get to finish her sentence before you finally snapped and cut her short.

“Oh cut the self-pity! You know why she is here tonight? Because she was there for me and you weren’t!”

You huffed in frustration before turning around and storming off, leaving Jennie alone in front of her car.

Why couldn’t you have said that Subin was there because she was prettier than her? Jennie even would have accepted if you had called her nicer. No words could have hurt her more than the ones that you had used.

She was there for me and you weren’t.

Of course, Jennie hadn’t been there for you. How could she have? She had chosen her career over you after all. The one time, Jennie could have proven her love for you, she failed to. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and a silent sob escaped her lips. She just wanted to go home now and lock herself in her dark bedroom forever.

With her shoulders slouched, Jennie turned around to get into the car, but once more, she was stopped last minute. Someone yanked the keys out of her hand, causing her to look back in shock.

You again.

“Get in the passenger seat.”

You growled and this time your face wasn’t unreadable. Anger was written all over it and even your voice trembled, carrying the power of your emotions. Immediately, Jennie realized her limits and obediently walked around the car to get in the passenger seat. After fastening her seatbelt, she turned her head to look at you insecurely. She had never seen you like this before. Your eyes seemed to be spitting fire and your knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

Maybe this night hadn’t only taken a toll on her.

Faster than usual, you sped through the nearly empty streets of the sleeping city while Jennie didn’t dare to utter a word. There didn’t seem to be anything left of the weak pushover that she had toyed around with during your last encounter. It seemed like it was true what people said. What didn’t kill you, did make you stronger; at least you could be the living proof of that. After all the games that she had played with you, all the wounds that she had caused you, you were finally standing up to her.

It was the perfect wakeup call. What had she been thinking? She had promised Jiyong that she would accept your decision tonight. No matter whether you would decide to give her a chance or not. And Subin was a very clear sign that you were not willing to mend things with her. But instead of keeping her promise, she had made a scene like the selfish monster she was. In shame, Jennie let her head hang and bore this suffocating silence, knowing that she deserved your anger. It seemed like the ride home lasted all night, but after an excruciating long time, the steady noise of the engine finally ceased, and you parked the car in front of her apartment.

There were a thousand things that Jennie wanted to say, but she didn’t have enough courage to do so. She just wanted to stick to her initial plan and hide in her dark bedroom forever. Therefore, Jennie quickly threw open the car door and bolted out of the car. The front door of the building was close, yet so far for someone that had an undefinable cocktail of diverse liquors in their stomach. Jennie’s legs just didn’t work like they were supposed to, and she could only just feel her knees giving in when her face already moved towards the ground in a rapid pace. Before it was about to collide painfully though, something wrapped around Jennie’s waist and stopped her fall. She felt herself getting straightened up again and she turned around in confusion, only to find herself standing face to face with you. You were merely inches in front of her to the extent that your torsos were touching; yet you weren’t moving away. Your feet were firmly planted on the ground and Jennie felt shivers running down her spine due to the proximity. Automatically, her gaze flickered to your lips, feeling an unbearable desire to close the distance. Only the knowledge that you were seeing someone else right now was holding her back. But why weren’t you pushing her away? Could it be that you wanted this too? Jennie’s face moved closer to yours like your lips were magically drawing her in. You still didn’t push her away; it would be so easy to get the taste that she was craving.

No.

Jennie jumped back as if someone had just scared her. You were taken. She wouldn’t seduce you. Jiyong had told her that you were finally happy, and she couldn’t selfishly temper with your happiness. Not again. Regret filled Jennie, thinking back about the breakup and the incident at Jiyong’s vernissage. She had never even apologized to you.

“Y/N, I’m s-“

She choked out but she didn’t get to finish as you pressed your finger on her lips.

“Sh.”

You shushed her, causing her to look at you with wide eyes.

You almost had a smug look on your face, leaving Jennie completely confused. But you didn’t seem to care about an explanation. Instead, you suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the entrance of the building. Perplexed, Jennie let you drag her and stumbled behind you without talking back. Together you stepped into the empty elevator, but Jennie wished that someone would be there with you. The tension was making her heart beat five times faster and she gulped thickly when you suddenly stepped in front of her. Like a tiger on the hunt, you silently crept closer, causing her to walk backwards until she reached the wall.

“Why did you get wasted tonight? Can’t you stand to see another woman touching me?”

You asked with a cocky smile on your lips, catching Jennie off guard. She didn’t know what to answer. You were right, but she didn’t want to admit that. Therefore, she tried to shake her head, but her gesture was barely noticeable.

“Did you miss me?”

At last, you had closed the final distance between the two of you and softly pressed your body against hers, causing Jennie to gasp. She could feel your breath on her face, but you didn’t stop moving closer. Your lips were so close that Jennie could almost taste them. But just when they were about to touch, a ringing sound could be heard, indicating that the elevator had reached the right floor. The door opened and you pushed yourself off her with a smirk. Jennie inhaled shakily to recollect herself, but right in that moment, you grabbed her wrist again to drag her behind you. Apparently, her nightmare disguised as a daydream wasn’t over yet. With big steps you crossed the hallway until you were standing in front of her apartment door.

“Unlock.”

You ordered firmly, causing Jennie to flinch.

Immediately, she started rummaging in her bag to search for the keys, but she was too nervous to steady her hands. You had completely thrown her off balance and all the sensory impressions around her were too much for her to take in. In her mind, she still tried to process the scenario in the elevator just now, causing her to lose focus and making it impossible to find the keys. Eventually, you huffed impatiently and yanked the bag out of her hands to get the keys yourself. You merely needed a second before you had found the desired item and cleared the way into her apartment.

Roughly, you pushed Jennie inside before slamming the door shut and pressing her against it. All she could do was to stare at you with wide eyes as you smirked smugly. Slowly, you lifted your hand and tugged a strand of hair behind her ear before letting your finger graze her jawline. Jennie’s eyelids automatically fluttered close due to the sensation and she felt like she was melting under your touch.

“Perfect.”

You whispered, your mouth being so close next to her ear that shivers ran down Jennie’s spine.

When she opened her eyes again, you were staring at her intently and Jennie immediately got lost in your eyes. How she had missed being so close to you. She didn’t know why anyone would ever think that she had power over you when in reality, it was the exact opposite. One word from you and she was quiet; one touch and her heart jumped out of her chest; one look like the one that you were giving her right now and she could feel heat spreading in her core. She just couldn’t bear this tension anymore. She knew that you were having fun right now while teasing her, but she needed to taste your lips at least. Hastily, she leaned forward to grab your hips in order to pull you in, but she grasped at nothing, almost causing her to fall over. You had suddenly taken a step back, causing Jennie to stare at you in confusion.

“Sucks to be left high and dry, doesn’t it?”

You chuckled with an evil smile playing on your lips and Jennie wondered if she had misheard your statement. With her hands still hovering in the air, she stood frozen in place, unable to say a single word, much to your amusement. An ugly laugh caused your chest to tremble and Jennie flinched in shock.

“Oh you are adorable.”

You sighed, although the mockery was not to miss hearing.

“And so, so dumb...”

Slowly, Jennie realized what was going on, but her heart refused to believe it.

“You think, you’re so good, don’t you? You think that just one look will make me fall for you again, right? But you’re wrong. You can’t satisfy me. You never could.”

There was pure disgust in your voice that caused tears to pool in Jennie’s eyes.

“Did you think our little quickie had been enough to make me forget about everything you’ve done? I have always needed more. I wanted your love, Jennie. But a monster like you can’t give me that. I know that now.”

As you kept talking, Jennie felt herself drifting away mentally. She heard your words, she felt them cutting deep into her heart, into her soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to fight back. She didn’t care about the pain anymore. It was what she deserved after all.

“But Subin can give me what I want. She can give me so much more than you. You are nothing but selfish, pathetic and incapable of love. You’ve proven that over and over again. Did you really think, I would ever come back to you?”

You scoffed sardonically, causing Jennie to feel more mortified than ever before. Yes, once again, she had hoped that she could be good enough for you. And once again, she had proven that she wasn’t.  

Jennie didn’t know how long you kept mocking her. It felt like hours. Every word dug a little deeper into her chest and in the end, a huge hole was ripped into it, causing a torrent of blood to gush out of her heart. She felt like a ghost and apparently that was truly all that was left of her, because you didn’t bother to let her defend herself. Instead, you turned on your heel as soon as you were done talking and left her standing there in her misery.

Jennie wished that you had just talked a little longer. Maybe your words could have made the hole in her chest consume her completely, instead of leaving behind the zombie that she was right now. Half dead, half alive and the only antidote to her slow death had just walked out of her life.

---

As you bolted through the front door of the apartment building, you gasped for air as if you had been holding your breath since setting foot in this place. What had you done? That couldn’t have been you. You weren’t one to play dirty; much less one to take revenge. But after Jennie had stumbled into your arms and you had seen the regret and desire in her eyes, you knew that she would be an easy victim. For once, you had the upper hand. You could give her a taste of her own medicine.

But it seemed like you had given yourself a hefty sip of it too. There was a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, and you didn’t feel as glorious as you thought you would. You felt like throwing up. You tumbled over in the little front yard of the apartment complex, but nothing left your body. Because it wasn’t your stomach that was rebelling against you. It was your bad conscious. You didn’t know how Jennie could have survived her games with you unscathed. The picture of her petite figure standing in front of you hunched in pain was engraved into your brain now. And even worse, it had carved into your heart too, ripping it into two.

“Damn it!!”

You yelled, ramming your fist against the tree next to you, causing the skin around your knuckles to break open. Blood was dripping to the floor, but you couldn’t care less.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You shouldn’t have feelings for Jennie anymore. But why did it hurt so much right now? Why had you almost discarded your plan and kissed her senseless up there? Yes, Jennie had been your drug. But you had been sober for a while now. How long would it take until you finally had her out of your system? Your world shouldn’t revolve around Jennie anymore, it should revolve around...

Subin.

In shock, you ripped your head up, remembering that you had left your girlfriend at a table with a bunch of strangers after giving a highly questionable excuse why you had to chase after Jennie. Subin knew that she was your ex, but you might have left out a few details concerning your relationship. Your girlfriend knew that Jennie had broken your heart, but she didn’t know that it had never mended ever since. And she should never learn. Therefore, you needed to get back to her. Since storming out of Jinyong’s apartment too much time had already passed, and you weren’t sure whether Subin was still waiting for you there. Plus, you didn’t really want to go back again and explain yourself. It would be for the best if you would just go home and simply send Jiyong an apologetic text for being a bad guest. For now, Subin was your priority.

Determined, you walked to the street, only to curse a second later when you realized that you hadn’t come here with your own car. With an annoyed huff, you pulled out your phone to order a car which would cost you precious time that you didn’t have. But there was nothing that you could do. Reluctantly, you waited for the car before ordering the driver to bring you home. Nervously, you sat in the backseat, bouncing your leg and thinking about the consequences of tonight. How would your girlfriend react? You hadn’t only ditched her, you had ditched her for your ex-girlfriend; who you had almost seduced. Frustrated, you grasped your hair. This was a disaster.

“Rough night, hm?”

The driver chuckled from the front seat and you flashed him a tired smile. You weren’t in the mood for jokes right now. You needed an adequate solution. For one, you had to apologize to your girlfriend. A difficult task, but not impossible. For two, you had to get Jennie out of your system. That, on the other hand, was a borderline insane task which needed thorough planning which you weren’t capable of doing tonight. Therefore, you chose to stick to the easier task for now.

You needed to make an overwhelmingly good apology to your girlfriend and you already knew where to begin with that.

“Can we stop by the next convenience store please?”

There was nothing that a sincere apology and some flowers couldn’t fix, so you ordered the driver to make a little stopover. A quick solution which allowed you to find yourself in front of Subin’s apartment 15 minutes later with a bouquet of flowers in your hands and a drafted apology in your head. You looked up at the building from the car, seeing that there was still light in Subin’s windows and you inhaled deeply to calm your nerves.

“You’ve got this buddy!”

The driver gave you an encouraging thumbs up and you thanked him before exiting the car.

Slowly, you walked up to the entry and let yourself in with the key that Subin had given you a while back. For once, you decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator in order to be able to have a little more time to recollect yourself. When you finally reached her apartment door, you felt more or less like you hadn’t made the worst decisions of your life tonight. Your hands had finally stopped trembling and your brain was able to focus on anything else but Jennie again. Therefore, you unlocked the door and silently slipped into the apartment like so many times before.

Inside, everything seemed to be like usual. The TV was running and Subin was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. Only when she turned her head to look at you, you gulped thickly. She didn’t seem to be seething in anger, but her gaze wasn’t friendly either.

“Hey, babe.”

You waved awkwardly, but Subin ignored you coldly to pay attention to the TV again. She was definitely mad...

With slouched shoulders, you walked up to her in order to sit down next to her, like a child preparing to be scolded. Regardless of her ignorance, you cleared your throat and started to apologize.

“I’m really sorry, Subin. I know this evening was nothing like it was supposed to be and I really deeply regret how I handled everything. But I can explain.”

Carefully, you glanced up to see how your girlfriend would react. She rolled her eyes in annoyance but turned off the TV in order to pay attention to you.

“This explanation better be good. You left me alone with complete strangers, Y/N.”

If looks could kill, you would be dead by now. But you didn’t let yourself be discouraged.

“It is! You know about my history with Jennie. The thing is that I left a few things out...”

Your statement seemed to have sparked Subin’s interest and she turned her torso in order to be able to look at you better.

“I know that Jennie always seems to be a cold person on TV, but she isn’t. She struggles a lot with her fame, and she has a lot of issues that not a lot of people are aware of. But I am. And I know that she tends to deal with her issues horribly. So when I saw her earlier, I got really worried. I was afraid that she would do something rash, which turned out to be right. She was completely wasted and wanted to drive home. And I couldn’t allow that. So I brought her home.”

Technically, you weren’t lying; at least that was what you told yourself in order to not let your bad conscious drag you down again. Maybe you weren’t necessarily telling the whole truth, but you meant well. You were trying to spare Subin’s heart. She didn’t deserve to get tangled up in this mess. You loved her and that was all that mattered. The rest had to be fixed by you alone.

“Oh I didn’t know that.”

Subin simply said and you saw that her angry demeanor was starting to crumble.

“Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t have known! And that’s on me. I haven’t told you the whole truth, because I had the feeling that I still had to protect Jennie. But I don’t need to do that. I’m with you and only you. So I need to start behaving accordingly.”

Carefully, you took your girlfriend’s hand, expecting her to pull away, but when she didn’t, you continued.

“I promise that I’ll work on myself in the future. No more erratic decisions and I promise to communicate better. No more secrets.”

You smiled, but you wondered whether Subin was able to see the shadow that laid upon you tonight. You weren’t yourself. You didn’t know who this monster was that looked like you but didn’t act accordingly. But it was shocking to hear those lies rolling off your tongue like they meant nothing. When had you become a perfect liar? You hoped that it wasn’t too late to save yourself though. You just needed a fresh start. You needed to leave everything behind and forget about the past.

Your salvation significantly depended on your girlfriend though, so you looked at her pleadingly.

“Fine, I’ll forgive you. But don’t you dare to ever leave me alone with your weird friends again!”

Subin chuckled and you laughed out loud.

“I promise.”

You whispered as you already closed the distance between the two of you to connect your lips.

Nothing was in the way between you and your fresh start now anymore.

At least that was what you had thought. But like always, it was so much easier to make promises than to keep them. You wanted to be better for Subin; you really did. You were ready to let go of the past, but what you didn’t realize was that it wasn’t ready to let go of you.

And your obliviousness should turn out to be your doom.

[jasperwhitcock]

equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location. 

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice���s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist. 

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––”  Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face. 

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note. 

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself. 

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body. 

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules. 

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

  Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

[bangtanfancamp]

Into the Garden (JJK)

∴ masterlist

∴ series masterlist (part one of 2 )

∴ pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

∴ word count: 5k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, dinner theater au? Lol

∴ warnings: none to speak of, eventual affection? sexual tension? Probable future make out sesh

∴ summary: It’s a Friday night out with your friends— a perfect opportunity to try out that mysterious new restaurant everybody’s talking about. Always game for new things and a good time, even you never expected to stumble upon the smart, incredibly handsome waiter you meet there who knows his flowers. Who knows where the night will take you now?

∴ vibey playlist that kept me company during writing

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“God, this place is gorgeous.” You gasped.

You felt yourself go still once you’d finally managed to push the heavy wooden doors open. Was it unreasonable to wish you lived in a restaurant if it looked like this? Because it was beautiful in here. Every corner was immaculately decorated- rich, emerald velvet in the waiting area, cognac wood floors, industrial light fixtures… each element carefully designed, but aged and warm, like maybe this place had been here forever, and you’d only just noticed it.

And the plants- there were plants everywhere, on every available surface. Shades of green wrapping and weaving around iron railing. Ivy crawling up the side of the exposed brick like nature was trying to take this luxurious place back for itself. You’d never seen anything quite like it.

This place was all anyone could talk about lately, but you’d never seen it first hand until tonight. It had been your coworker’s bright idea to get a bunch of the staff together and blow off some steam here this Friday night. She’d even wiggled her way into getting the company to pay for it by calling it a “team building experience,” a.k.a “let’s all get drunk together and moan about our problems on the boss’s dime.” You’d be skipping the alcohol tonight, but this place was a million years beyond your “guac at chipotle is a treat” personal budget and there was no way you were going to miss out on a free dinner here.

So far, no regrets as you wandered across the hardwood. You hadn’t even eaten any of the food yet, but it was already your new favorite place in the city on decor alone. And on top of that, you had something else to look forward to. Apparently, the hook here — not that it really needed one— was an upscale version of dinner and a mystery. You wondered how that was supposed to fit with this whole industrial utopia theme.

You hadn’t been to a restaurant that did a show with dinner since you saw Cinderella at a children’s dinner theater in eighth grade, but the shabby, primary colored castles of your memory clashed distinctly with the elegance of this place. The gaping imbalance made you chuckle. Sherlock dinner theater and artisanal hand glazed pottery seemed like an odd mix to you, but you were intrigued nonetheless, knowing you’d have fun whether the plot was brilliant or not.

After gawking an appropriate amount of time in the foyer, you realized you should probably check in for your group since you’d arrived first. Gliding through the Garden in search of the hostess booth, you found it hidden away beneath the shade of an almost prehistorically large fiddle leaf fig tree. You smiled up at the gargantuan plant, fingers tracing the edge of a leaf. If the millennial garden of Eden interior of the place hadn’t already been an indication, this alone reinforced what a miracle worker their main gardener must be.

Every fiddle leaf fig you’d ever owned had died many a gruesome death long before it ever even reached two feet, but this one almost brushed the exposed ceiling beams. You wished you could ask whoever was in charge here for some pointers, but they’d probably smell your plant mom failures on you from a mile away and decide not to waste their time. Plants just never seemed to like you back the way you loved them… oh well. That’s what plastic is for, you supposed.

Getting back to the task at hand, you leaned up on your toes to look for assistance, quickly noticing that the station was empty. Maybe they’re busy watering the crops, you chuckled to yourself wondering if this place really was pretentious enough to grow their own inventory-they certainly could- when you were suddenly greeted by the most stunningly handsome boy you’d ever seen.

“Hello, welcome to the Garden.” The living, breathing Adonis statue could speak apparently. You tried not to stare as he smiled back at you politely, his silky curls shagging about his face as he slid behind the hostess booth. Holy crap. Did they grow him in the back too?

He was beautiful- some undiscovered demigod with broad shoulders and a jawline so strong it could cut glass. He lifted his eyebrows pleasantly, waiting to assist. “I apologize for the wait—how may I be of service this evening?”

You couldn’t help the silly grin that spilled across your face when his wide chocolate eyes smiled your way.

“Um, Hi. I need a table for, lets see… 1,2,3,4...10 people I think?” You counted unashamedly on your fingers as the host’s lips quirked into a smile. “Oh! Actually, you know what? What am I doing—do you guys take reservations? My friend Beth might have called about us earlier?”

“Let me see…” The boy’s amused doe eyes drifted over a computer screen. You fiddled with the edges of a particularly plump succulent on the counter as you waited. “Here it is. Beth party of 10. Now usually when we have a group that big, we do offer the option of one of our private rooms. You guys would have your own separate narrative from whatever the main restaurant is doing….Would you be interested in that this evening?”

“Sure! Why not—that sounds amazing!” You answered, a bit too enthusiastically admittedly, but when his face lit up at your bubbliness, you found you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed. Not when a boy who looked like that was looking at you that way, all soft around the edges. Will you be there? you wondered.

“Okay, then you’ll come right this way. Oh! And you’ll need this.” Dipping into a crystal bowl behind the counter, he fished out a crisp white piece of paper and slipped it into your hand, fingers brushing over yours as he did.

Something in your belly reacted sharply to the contact. Apparently, the electric crackle affected him too. His already round eyes widened, a nervous chuckle tumbling from his lips as your cheeks blossomed a warm, soft pink.

Suddenly, a ruckus erupted behind you, crashing into the tranquil silence. You turned over your shoulder to see your friends piling in the tall front door, laughing and smiling widely at you.

Tearing his eyes away from you with a self conscious gulp, the host cleared his throat before leading you all back past fountains, lush greenery and elaborate floral installations into yet another beautiful space. This room was just as intricate as the rest of the restaurant, with its warm terra cotta-colored walls dripping with ivy and orchids, lit with the dappled light of melting pillared candles piled atop the elaborate raw wood table spanning the length of the room.

As everyone happily clamored to find a seat along the banquet table, you noticed your friend, Erik, crashing along its opposite edge. Erik had been a football player in college, some defensive position you didn’t know the title of. He was a mammoth of a man, his blonde Nordic hair making him look like an off brand, out of shapeThor.

He paid little to no attention to where he threw his weight around like a puppy who didn’t yet know his size. So when he dropped himself onto the neatly slatted bench (gosh, every detail here was dripping in aesthetics) and promptly leaned against the wall, crushing the intricate orchid display, you couldn’t help but laugh. You heard the host’s strangled gasp and giggled at the beautiful boy's wide eyes as his horror-stricken face went pale across the room. Before he seemed to realize he was even doing it, his feet began to march across the floor to say something to your friend, until his politeness overtook him and he froze a few feet away. He grumbled to himself as your friend carelessly peeled himself off of the bench, annoyed complaining about something scratchy digging into his back. The host was positively fuming as irritation ticked in his jaw, but His big brown eyes betrayed his disappointment and downright bewilderment as the bedraggled orchids limped back into place.

“No.... They’re ruined. Now what am I supposed to display?”  You heard him attempt to mutter under his breath, but his anger seemed to make his volume louder than intended. He was so flustered—it was oddly...kind of adorable. You couldn’t help but laugh. You knew your friend had meant no harm. He was a sweet guy, but generally oblivious, so things like this seemed to happen a lot. Chuckling under your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the strain in the host’s angular jawline, not to mention how good he looked with his eyebrows furrowed like that. Intense. It made you want to kiss the creases to relax him. Man, this guy was really getting to you...

Maybe it’s time to have some fun, you thought.

Leaning over the edge of the bench, you whispered surreptitiously, “Hey, maybe you should consider wheatgrass instead.” You sent a quick wink in the host’s direction, a thick cloud of giggles falling from your lips. Lashes fluttering , the poor guy seemed startled by your comment. He had been so wrapped up in blinders over his restaurant being ruined that he hadn’t realized anyone had been watching the entire interaction. For a quick second, embarrassment flashed over his features. The sudden chagrin on his face as he nervously ruffled his hair softened him. The Greek god of a man suddenly a soft, flustered boy. He looked so... sweet.

The whole scene gave you the oddest urge to pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he was. But just as fast as it had appeared, the innocence in his wide eyes was gone, his composure swiftly resettling itself as his shoulders rolled down, his posture lifting him back up to full height. His confidence was back, and so was a lopsided smile that you decided you quite liked. “Might not be the worst idea.... certainly less overhead,” he sighed resignedly, hands hanging low on his hips as the tick in his jaw loosened, replaced instead by the beginning of a smirk.

“Much less upkeep. Less horizontal space. Equal level of pretension. I see no downsides,” you shrugged nonchalantly. You felt your own smile bloom wider the longer your gazes stayed fixed on each other. His eyes were dazzling- coffee brown and deep- as they glittered back at you. “I’ll look into it...might be a solid option. Have,” he hesitated. “Have you been here before? I don’t think I’ve seen you... I get the feeling I would have remembered you.” His face was so soft and unguarded, his pretty mouth just a bit too open as he searched his memory for a glimpse of you. You pulled your lip between your teeth as your smile threatened to grow.

“No,” you shook your head, hair bouncing around you. “It’s my first time here. First time for all of us actually. Hence, my friends lack of good graces with your horticultural displays.” you offered an apologetic shrug.

“May my orchids rest in peace,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “Not your fault though. You guys, uh, celebrating something?” He was suddenly too close for a stranger, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Oh, no. We just work in that massive upstart down the block. Kept hearing about the place, and Instagram kept hacking our feeds with ads for it so we finally caved. Figured we’d try it out. ” You waved across the table gesturing to everyone. There were all so deep in their own side conversations that no one seemed to pay any mind to you lingering oddly with the wait staff. “Glad to see the marketing is working out,” he chuckled. “Well...if it’s your first time, then you’ll need a proper guide through the story.” A glint of mischief sparkled deep in his chocolate eyes, and you felt something effervescent glitter up your spine in excitement. “I suppose we will.” With a bow from his hip and a nod, he turned on his heel with no explanation, leaving you to smile down at your menu like an idiot in his absence. Trying to read was pointless honestly. The letters might as well have been in Arabic as they swam across the page- you weren’t processing anything. Far too lost in a dreamy eyed splendor over the boy you’d just met until a bony elbow nudged its way between your ribs. “What was THAT all about?” Eileen’s eyebrows bounced with curiosity. “ I don’t know.” You answered honestly as your head shook. At this point, you were smiling so much your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “But my God, isn’t he CUTE?” You hid behind your hands. “Cute??” Eileen shoved you in the shoulder. “He’s not a corgi, y/n. He’s a grown man.” She bit her lip. “A GORGEOUS, full grown man....did you see him when he walked away? God, what a view.” You pressed your forehead into her shoulder and whimpered, “I knowww. His smile, those thighs, my god...and his butt. Did you see it? It’s better than mine.” You both fell into a fit of giggles.

“All I know is that if you don’t give him your number then he’s definitely getting mine tonight. Or anything else he’d like for that matter.” Your jaw fell open at her brazenness. “Hey! slow your roll. You can’t call dibs before I’ve even gotten his name!” you laughed.

“Then you better work fast, babe. Cuz butts like that don’t stay single for long.”  She tipped her head to the side matter of factly.

“Oh my gosh, shut up! You don’t know when he’ll come back. He might hear you.” You breathed.

“Let him. It’ll make my job easier.” She bit down seductively on her red straw. Swatting at her, you both giggled before back into the table’s office gossip.

Apparently, Elliot had shown up to the office wasted again today- either from getting trashed the night before or from getting sloshed the morning of, no one was quite sure at this point. Either way, everyone was annoyed as hell that he’d never get more than a slap on the wrist for it since his dad managed their branch. Nepotism still alive and well. Clearly.

Popping an entire potsticker in your mouth, your belly ached with laughter as Sean told you all how his assistant had accidentally walked in on two higher ups making out in the supply closet this morning and how traumatized the poor intern had been. He described in detail how the poor slob had still tried to get around them to get the extra printer paper, and what a mess the whole ordeal had been. He owed you a clean fifty bucks now.

With your keen eyes, you’d been the first person to be suspicious of them- you’d called it a solid month ago- and had put your money where your mouth was. You’d started the office pool that they were in fact a secret couple- a bet you’d clearly just won if Sean bleak expression was anything to go by. Lunch on him all week. Potstickers til i burst? Don’t mind if I do.

It had been a great evening, full of unwinding and bonding. So great, that you’d completely forgotten about the mystery element of the dinner. That is, until a crystalline voice spoke above you, snapping you to attention.

“Pardon me, everybody. But it’s time for the mystery of the evening to begin.”

Surprised, your eyes darted up to see the cute guy from earlier. He was standing right behind you. Your pulse spiked as he sent a smirk your way. What were you supposed to do with that? He was so close now that you could hear the fabric of his dress shirt rustle every time he shifted or gestured above you. With every movement, a burst of his scent surrounded you. It was something citrus, something fresh. A dizzy smile tugged at your lips as it enveloped you like a cloud. God, you wanted to bury your nose in it. You were such a sucker for a good smelling boy...

And this one was so in your personal space. Which should have been off putting, honestly. Especially since you’d barely known him for half an evening. It was a bold choice on his part, to get so close to you. It should have been a turn off. Should have. But it wasn’t. Instead, you found yourself almost vibrating with excitement at the proximity of him. Whatever this gravitational pull was around him, you were perfectly content to get pulled straight into it.

If you’d had the nerve to, he truly was close enough that if you tipped your body back just a few degrees you could’ve rested your head against his lean stomach if you’d wanted to… which, of course you did want to do… but you’d only just met him. So instead, you bit down to stifle your smile, eyes flicking over to Eileen who was just as giddy on your behalf.

God he’s so cute, you thought. Wait- is he still talking? Crap-focus, you scolded yourself, tuning back into his monologue.

“As everyone knows, we all have the same five senses. But what happens when we lose one? How does it affect our instincts? Our gut? How does it change the way we listen to each other?” he paced around the edges of the table, hands clasped behind his tailbone. It made his dress shirt bunch deliciously in all the right places, and you bit back a smile. It was getting harder and harder to hide your little infatuation.

“When each of you arrived,” he continued, “you were each given a character and a backstory- No one should know it but you- but only one of you received the card that said killer. Someone at this table has committed a murder, but who? Often, our eyes can deceive us, so as part of tonight’s story, your sight will be taken from you as you try to decipher the truth. Can you rely on your other senses, your hearing, your intuition to solve this case?” A few other waiters approached the table with baskets in hand before the room went dark- completely.

Not the “the lights are off but we can all still see” kind of dark. It was the “it's so black in here that you can feel it” kind of dark. The kind of complete nothingness you never get with the ambient glow of street lights and screens everywhere. It was heavy and consuming, the absoluteness of the suddenly inky black room.

Swirling your own fingers in front of your face, you saw absolutely nothing. Not even the glint of your own jewelry, and something fantastic bubbled up in you. This is going to be so fun. Your heart began to race in anticipation- you didn’t even know what for yet. You felt your knuckles wrap around the bench beneath you, bracing, waiting, holding your breath, wondering when the night would finally be-

Only to have your thoughts stop. Completely.

Each individual one of them halted in their tracks by the sudden contact of warm fingertips against your skin. The gentle press of a large set of hands melted into the tops of your shoulders, thumbs bracing on the back of your neck. It was him again, wasn’t it?

He squeezed once, tense and hesitant despite his obvious strength, like he wasn't sure touching you was the best idea, but he couldn’t back out now that he’d started. The delicacy of it left you buzzing. In the silence, the pads of his fingers sunk deeply into your skin, and your breath caught. You’d never been this grateful for off the shoulder clothing in your life.

“May I?” he asked, tone honeyed and sweet.

You realized he meant the blindfold you’d heard so much about before you came and nodded your head just once, tension sticking in your throat as you tried to swallow it down. It was only then that you realized he probably couldn’t see you in the darkness. You’d have to gather your wits enough to verbally respond. You hoped he wouldn’t catch the way the “yes” that left your lips was embarrassingly breathless.

You heard him hum in response, holding whatever was left of your breath as his fingertips slowly fell from the tops of your shoulders, dragging across the edges your sleeves like he was in no rush to let you go. It was a strange intimacy from a stranger, but to be honest, you didn’t want him to let go either.

Until, quick as a whisper, his warmth was gone, leaving you alone in the dark. The shift so abrupt that part of you wondered if you’d imagined the last thirty seconds. His lingering hands had fallen away so abruptly at the end. Where had he gone?

It all felt like a fever dream you’d cooked up, like your own subconscious was mocking you for wanting him so bad. For a second, you wondered if you should be concerned by how obviously attracted you were to him. Should you be ashamed by how quickly you welcomed his touch? By the way your traitorous body showed no intention of pushing him away? Maybe you should, but he didn’t give you the time to overthink it before he was beside you again.

“Jungkook.” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

“What?” You breathed, face turning toward his sound in the blackness.

“That’s my name. Jungkook.” He repeated, his voice airy and soft. You hadn’t realized how beautiful his voice was until it was the only thing you had to focus on. You could feel that he was bent low, his chest just brushing the tops of your shoulders. You felt dizzy at the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as a cool satin ribbon was draped over your eyes.

“In case you were wondering.” He whispered, pulling the edges of the fabric into a soft bow as he dipped to the other side of your shoulders. “But I’ll also answer to ‘guy with the butt that’s better than yours’ if you prefer.” His breathy laugh filled your ears, and you could practically hear him smiling. “Oh god, you heard that?” the back of your hand smothered your mouth, a smile emerging even as you cringed.

“Oh absolutely. Acoustics are insane in this place. It was kind of nice though... I mean, how often do I get to hear such a pretty girl compliment me ?” You could feel the rush of blood practically crashing into your cheeks. You knew the whole world would see you blushing if the lights were on. “I’m out of witty comments for that one.” “Don’t smile. You’ll mess up the blindfold,” he warned, the endearing softness in his voice undermining his words. “I’ll try. Don’t think I can help it though.” A satisfied hum left Jungkook’s lips as he pulled away and went back to the task at hand.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

And just like that, the mystery began with Jungkook as the narrator and weaver of your tale.

Your group had been given a story set in feudal Japan. Clashing samurai, feuding houses, forbidden love- Your friends all got surprisingly into it, losing their normal voices into the adopted lilts and pitches of their newfound characters.

It really was incredible the nuances you caught when you focused on your hearing. Jin’s voice, for example, was far more nasal than you realized. He had a tendency to react dramatically any time someone pressed him for details- clearly signaling how close they were to the truth the more he tried to hide it. Lina’s expressionless monotone was nearly impossible to read on voice alone, but it made her all the more fun to try to figure out. Despite focusing on the story, you couldn’t help but notice that while Jungkook had the entire table to canvas as he narrated, he still stayed suspiciously close to your side the entire time- like he couldn’t help himself. His fingertips would brush the fabric of your blouse when he’d pass. His taut arms would graze the swing of your ponytail as he walked by. He had no mercy on the fragile hummingbird flitting with wild abandon in your chest at each of his actions. In fact, you could hear the distinct note of something that sounded an awful lot like laughter in his voice anytime he gave instructions to your character specifically. Smug son of a gun. Soon, the story unraveled as it was revealed that Jin had, in fact, been the murderer. He was jealous of Lina’s love for samurai Hoseok and had killed him in a drunken rage but tried to frame Bobby for the dishonorable act.

With the crime solved, the lights were turned back on, a fuzzy halo emerging around the edges of your vision as a staff member came behind each guest to remove their blindfold. You were unsurprised when you were met with a gentle waft of clean citrus as Jungkook appeared once again to help you with yours. The warm pads of his fingers grazed your cheeks when he removed the satin ribbon. It was so quick- it was so hard to tell if it had been on purpose- before his touch was gone again far too quickly for your liking. “I must say, you were particularly clever.” He offered softly as he stood behind you. You dropped your neck back to look up at him, eyes wide. “Anyone paying attention would have known that wasn’t Bobby’s blade work.” “Still, most people don’t catch it on their first time through the story.” He tipped his head matter of factly. “Maybe I just had a good guide,” You winked, tucking your chin back to normal when you saw a faint pink color his cheekbones. He cleared his throat before addressing the table. “You’ll find your individual checks have been placed in front of you, along with a complimentary dessert. Thank you for dining with us this evening. It has been our pleasure.”

He bowed at the waist as he gave his farewell, making his last words spoken dangerously close to your ear. Adrenaline spiked in your veins at his proximity for the thousandth time tonight. As he returned to full height, another man approached the table, this one taller, leaner than jungkook, with a smile so innocent and wide it could have belonged to a child.

“Good evening everyone! How was your experience with us tonight?” His voice. It boomed like a clap of thunder. It was oddly deep for someone who looked so young. Everyone at the table chattered with random superlatives about how amazing the night had been as the man's smile glowed brighter.

“I’m so glad to hear it!! You had a real treat tonight- guided by our finest story teller.” Pride swelling in his eyes, the man clapped an embarrassed Jungkook on the shoulder. “Such a shame it might be the last story he tells here.” The baritone lamented. “What am I supposed to do without my partner?” The man used his other hand to clutch at his chest dramatically, face scrunched in distress, as you felt your heart free fall into your shoes.

Last story? “Calm down, Taehyung. You make it sound like I’m dying.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and swatted at the man. “You might as well be!” Taehyung huffed. “He’s leaving us tomorrow to start his new life! Off galavanting in the mountains somewhere with flowers and goats. Leaving all his old, true friends behind.” He wrapped an arm around jungkook’s shoulder, dragging him against his will into a side hug jungkook vehemently tried to escape. “Quiet down, bro. You’re making a scene.” Jungkook balked, face pale at the unwanted attention.

He’s…. leaving? Your stomach took a swan dive. No. But I just met him. How... where was he going? Your eyes fell back to the table as you steadied yourself.

You’d been so excited about where this all might go. It was hard enough to accept that you’d already gotten this attached to him. Let alone invested enough to be this disappointed…..but, you’d felt something so strong around him. The kind of glittering spark you hadn’t felt with another person in a long time, if ever.

Every time his eyes had lingered on you or his body had brushed against yours, a supernova had ignited in your chest. You’d spent the whole night going mad with the electric possibility of him- just to what? Feel like a fool for being infatuated with a stranger? Look like the naive girl you were, pining over a daydream?

This was ridiculous. You shook your head at yourself. This boy didn’t owe you anything. He was a stranger two hours ago, he’d stay a stranger when you left twenty minutes from now. But no matter how you tried to convince yourself, your poor heart still felt sick about it all. He’d just seemed so— you don’t know, special. So magnetic. And You’d thought he’d felt the same pull bringing him to you too.

Because why else would he have flirted with you half the night? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to lead you on if he knew it was going nowhere. An assumption you realized was a heck of a leap. You didn’t actually know anything about him, but somehow, something about that narrative just didn’t sit right with you. The look he’d had in his eyes each time he smiled at you tonight had seemed too sincere to be a lie. But from the way his loud friend was still talking, he made it sound like Jungkook was moving to the Alps.

So even if his sweet eyes had genuinely meant every smile tonight, was it really all for nothing? You knew the night was ending, and it was a long shot, but you’d really been holding out hope it might go somewhere beyond this. Apparently not. In an instant, he reappeared by your side, having broken free from the grip of his affectionate friend’s grasp. Jungkook dipped beside you once again as you stumbled to rearrange your now troubled features into something resembling disinterest.

“Hey, Sorry about that. But, I um, really do hope you have a great night. So your uh, your check is on the table.” His poise seemed a bit more rattled than before, but you were too glum to give it much notice.

You sent an out of focus glance in the ticket’s direction and nodded. He’d already told everyone that. Most of the table already had their debit cards out for their tickets. You didn’t know why he was bothering to mention it again when all you wanted to know was where he was going and if it was far.

“I um...didn’t get to catch your name earlier,” the smile he offered you was gentle, hopeful, as his wide brown eyes looked down at you. You felt yourself sigh withought meaning to. You’d have found the sheepish look in his eyes hopelessly adorable just a few minutes earlier, but now all it did was make your chest hurt. “Not a detail you need if you’re moving away though right?” You asked, a sadness creeping in your attempted smile. God, you weren’t fooling anyone. This was pathetic. His brows dipped at your response, confused by the shift in your demeanor. “I’m... I mean, i told you mine.” His gentle eyes tried to salvage the situation. The confidence he’d exuded all night was slipping away, a boyish vulnerability taking its place. There was no harm, you supposed. “Fair enough. It’s y/n.”  you conceded. “Y/n.” He repeated, like he was trying to make the shape a new habit for his mouth. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The smile you gave him back was a limp, pitiful thing, but it was the best you could give. Half an hour ago, you definitely didn’t think him calling you pretty would have made you so sad. Compliments didn’t usually send you into a craving for solitude and halo top ice cream, but this one certainly did.

“Well, y/n, I may not be as far away as you think. Have a good night.” And with that he was gone.

Bummed, you looked over your shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Shoot. Well, that was a fast track to nowhere,” you sighed to Eileen, slouching in your seat. “I know. Bummer. Seemed like he liked you too.” Eileen commiserated. “Right? So it wasn’t just me? You could tell too?” “Oh, he was totally obvious about it! He  also gave you more ice cream than me. Shameless. Boy has no subtly.” You chuckled at her accusation, but sure enough, you did in fact have one scoop more ice cream in your jadeite bowl than the rest of your friends. This boy already knew the way to your heart.

“Still. Why act interested if you’re disappearing the next day?” You pouted. “Why show interest when he’s just a server you’ve never met before?” She asked pointedly, eyebrow arched as your eyes fell away. “People react when they feel something- and clearly you two were feeling something the entire night. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second....We don’t get to pick the timing of when we’re attracted to people, y/n. Nobody’s working with that kind of control.” Flopping onto her shoulder, you heaved a heavy sigh. “Again... you’re right. I just, I don’t know. There was just—something about him. He felt... special.” “He looked special in that outfit. Those buttons were crying.” She mockingly bit her lip as you swatted your napkin at her. “Eileen! Unhelpful! I’m aware.... I guess you just don’t always get to know where things could have gone.” You shrugged, wilting into her warmth. “I know, babe. Sorry.” She patted your head comfortingly.  You turned to your ice cream to heal the wound, accepting that beautiful Jungkook would just be a passing meeting and a quick deadend to nowhere. After polishing off your dessert, you pulled out your cash to at least leave him the memory of a good tip when your eyes caught on scribbled handwriting in the top corner of your receipt. Hey, I don’t normally do something like this, but there’s a place around the corner that stays open super late. Meet me for crappy coffee + good conversation at 11? -jungkook xxx-xxx-xxxx You choked on nothing as you processed what was going on.

“Eileen! Eileen!!” You grabbed at her sleeve. “What?? What is it?! Calm down.” She pried your clutching hands off her cropped leather jacket, brushing off any damage you’d done.

“He gave me his number!” You nearly shouted.

“What?” She almost spat out her cocktail.

“He gave me his number!!” You waved the receipt wildly in her face. “He invited me to coffee and gave me his number!!!” You squealed, shrieking at an octave usually reserved for wild piglets. “Shut up! No way!!!” “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” You rambled ecstatically. “But wait!” your face fell,“ we’re supposed to go out for drinks with everybody after.” “And? Is that a joke??? You see us every day! What are you doing talking to me?? Text him! Go meet your man, honey. I’ll cover for you.” She winked as she swung her purse over her shoulder. “Really?? I love you! I owe you!” You yelled as she made her way to the door. “Um, You really don’t, but I’ll never turn down a favor. Let me know how it goes. See you on Monday.” She waved back at you, flipping the platinum ends of her ebony hair over her shoulder. “Hey! Where’s y/n? Isn’t she coming with us,” Jin seemed to be the only one alarmed by your absence. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, dear. I’ll fill you in later.” She grabbed him by his shoulders and nudged him out the door frame. “Ooo, bulking up are we, Kim? Feeling solid these days.”

“Yes actually!” His face glowed. “I have been! But you know, muscle tone is 80% genetics anyway. You cant just make yourself handsome, you know.You have to be born this good looking to start with and work from there.”

She knew there was no quicker, sure fire way to get Jin off topic than to ask him about himself. Once that train had left the station, there was little hope if any of ever turning back.

Eileen really took one for the team there. “Call me” she mouthed back at you as they slipped off into the night. You chuckled to yourself at the scene, finally realizing the turn your own evening was about to take. You plugged his number into your phone and shot him a quick message. [10:35pm] Hey, how did you know I was always down for quality conversation? Moments later, your phone began to buzz. Jungkook [10:36pm] Just went with my gut ;)

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[itshesdimples]

-Hello to anyone reading. This is my first time writing something and putting it out for the world to see. That being said, I would love any constructive criticism you have to give me. Thank you for any support you may give me, I cant thank you enough xoxo ~H - 

I remember the day as if it were yesterday; the day you crossed the unimaginable line. 

I thought we had everything, I thought I was your everything. 

2 MONTHS AGO

"Hey sunshine, just calling to let you know I wont be able to make it home this time. I'm sorry, the label has me doing something that I'm not sure is a good idea but they say it will help me in the long run." He sighs at the end, I imagine him palming his forehead.

"Look, I need you to listen to me when I tell you that you are everything to me, you make me want to become the best version of myself. During the months we have been together I have seen the best and worst side of you and I'm not running, promise. I want you to be mine forever, do you hear me? Just remember that." Harry expelled.

You were a little worried, seeing as you two had been together for a little over nine months and it was extremely rewarding. The time apart has always been different to the other relationships she had been in the past but with Harry it seemed like more than she had ever received from the previous men. 

As a surgical intern you work countless hours and never really get more than a few hours to yourself, so when you met Harry you really never saw it going anywhere. You were just too happy for your own good, openly expressing your life to perfect strangers and expecting them all to be accepting of who you are.

* 9 MONTHS AGO* 

The hospital you worked at allotted 80 hours a work week and as hopeful as you may be feeling, there is a little voice in the back of your head telling you not to go bar hopping. "Just one drink and then water." you emphasize to your good friend Mike, the bartender. 

"Vodka soda coming right up, Dr. Demanding." He chuckles. You turn around in the chair and stare at all the fellow drunks, looking for your intern comrades who should be here by now. 

Although you dont find your friends, you spot a very handsome, familiar face coming toward you. Admiring the face across from you, you decide to take the first step following by the downing of your vodka soda. " You dont seem to be familiar with the very famous bar here in town so you must not be from around here," you tease, holding out your hand to shake. "I'm [Y/N]. Not to sound weird but have we met before?" You get a very bold feeling of deja vu but laugh it off. "I'm sorry, my friends are supposed to be here by now and I'm socially handicapped, sometimes I dont know when to stop talking." Now you're just rambling at the breathtaking man in front of you and feeling red in the cheeks. 

"Its alright love, I sometimes feel socially handicapped around exquisite women such as yourself. Actually, that sounded like you're one of hundreds but I-- what I meant to say was that, you seem a little lonely. Can I buy you a drink?" He rambles, tugging at his jacket. 

"I am only allowed one drink, I know it sounds weird but I'm on a ticking time bomb, you see this?" You pull out your pager, "any moment this thing will go off and I have to skip back to work like a dreamy little school girl but inside I am dying of starvation, need a beer and twenty hours sleep." You just keep spitting up word vomit and your face is permanently pink but you just cant stop because what if it gets quiet? Now that's when it gets awkward.

"I don't think we have ever met because I'd remember you" Harry confirms, looking you up and down your shapely body. "What do you do for a living that has you on such a tight leash?" Taking a sip of his beer, he stands up and walks next to the chair you're sitting in. 

"Surgical intern, Dr. [Y/L/N] at your service, sir." You cant help but crack a little bit of the tension you have building up in your stomach while talking to him but that doesn't stop you from staring him in the eyes and trying your best to flirt. 

The aura around him is too intoxicating, too much to handle without trying to add a little humor in the mix. "I like it when you call me sir, Dr. [Y/L/N] but how long have you been a doctor? I'd love to get to know you before you have to leave me." He articulates, trying to captivate her attention.

"I love my job but it has been a long winded road, it feels like years but I've only been a real doctor for a little over two months. It takes a lot out of me but that is why I'm glad I have two great friends who I can lean on. We keep each other afloat and they're also my roommates. I don't know where I would be without them." All of that poured out of my mouth before I had the chance to cork it but I couldn't help telling him something about myself that was at least surface level.

He just seems like an eerie case of the best illusion I've ever seen. I cant help but shake the feeling that I've known him all my life, like telling him the ins-and-outs of my life wouldn't be detrimental to my health. 

"Now tell me something about yourself. For starters maybe your name? I've never seen you here before and I'm here all the time so I'm pretty good at knowing who is an out of towner, and I don't know how much time I have left." You're trying to get to know him and that is so unlike you. Having had boyfriends in the past, you were never the one asking the questions or wanting to get to know them more than a few dates and drinks. The longest relationship you have ever had was two months and you two went to high school together. 

"Hi I'm Harry, and I don't know how much longer I get to sit next to you so please can I have your number, sunshine? I would love to take you for dinner sometime soon." Harry is going out on a whim asking for your phone number but keeps going, "From what I have gathered you are a very busy woman and I admire that, love it even. I know this sounds crazy but I feel like I know you already and I have never felt that with another person so please give me a chance, I will work around your schedule. I dont care what it--" he is stopped when your pager goes off as an emergent patient being admitted, all hands on deck you assume. 

"Sunshine, huh? I like it." You wink at him and ask Mike for a pen so you can scrawl your number on a napkin and thank Harry for a very pleasant chat. It was good to know that he felt for you, as you did him after just meeting the man, and his nickname for you was adorable. 

For the next two weekends you spent getting to know Harry on a personal note. He told you he loved writing music, performing and was already an amazing talent. Harry showed you his latest music and you wondered how you hadn't connected the dots sooner. You knew he was a very private person, as he told you on your first date. 

(FLASHBACK)

"I'd love to get to know your friends, and see what kind of person you are. I can't wait to know you but I just want you to know that I can't have a lot of people knowing what is going on in my personal life." He sighs, you two sat down at dinner and he couldn't help but spit out what he wanted to tell you when you first met. "I don't want to sound pretentious or come off as someone who cares about his appearance to others but I have to tell you that I make music for a living and have quite the lot of fans. Screaming fans to be exact, " he chortles, asking the waiter for a bottle of wine to start off, "but I can't help but love them all. They made my career but I have to remain a private person. I adore my fans but they are very protective and I don't want our relationship to struggle because of a few of them saying unkind things." He grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes, trying to make you understand the reason for privacy.

"I've never met anyone like you Harry and I meet a lot of people on the regular. You have this way about you that draws me in and I want to get to know you. If that means that I cannot post my gushing about you on social media, so be it. I really like you and would like to know who you are." You declare, hoping he understands that he as a person means more than everyone understanding her lifestyle choices. 

(END OF FLASHBACK) 

Tonight was the night you knew you wanted to understand him on an even more personal level. You knew that the way you felt for him wasn't a normal crush, wasn't even a normal type of love. You knew he had the power to hurt you if he wished to do so but that was so far in the back of your mind. He meant so much to you already that it didn't matter you two were keeping your relationship a secret from most of the world, apart from a select few. It was the best date of them all, Harry cooked you and your best friends dinner so when you got off work, dinner was on the table. He was always so thoughtful of your needs and you thought it was the time to prioritize his.

"Take me to bed Harry." You whimper, "I want you." 

*7 MONTHS LATER* 

Things were hectic in your life but that was the way they always were but now it seemed like days stretched past 24 hours and turned into a marathon sprint that never ended. 

The day Harry unmistakably broke you was the day that sleep had everything on you. Going for days on end was something you were accustomed to but after he cut you deeper than you could ever be, sleep seemed to be your only friend. 

You thought you knew him better than anyone. He was your Harry, your everything, even your person maybe? 

But when his decision to take his career to the next step interfered in your relationship, your life; that was the day to call it quits no matter the devastation. He may have been your soulmate but maybe, just maybe it wasn't right. The timing, the place of it all was just too much. Your life just didn't have room for much else, especially someone who was willing to hurt you unimaginably and not walk away in order to lessen the blow. 

*2 WEEKS BEFORE THE INEVITABLE *

"Hey sunshine, just calling to let you know I wont be able to make it home this time. I'm sorry, the label has me doing something that I'm not sure is a good idea but they say it will help me in the long run." He sighs at the end, I imagine him palming his forehead.

"Look, I need you to listen to me when I tell you that you are everything to me, you make me want to become the best version of myself. During the months we have been together I have seen the best and worst side of you and I'm not running, promise. I want you to be mine forever, do you hear me? Just remember that." Harry expelled.

That was two hours ago and within those two hours you knew it was best to stay off your phone. You keep telling yourself to not look for anything leading you to clues about his voice mail. It wasn't like him to express his feelings over the phone, he was an in person 'declare-my-love-for-you' type of man so when you listened to it you thought it was best to stay off your phone. 

Trailing off to the shower in pursuit of getting to work, you hear your phone's inescapable shrill from your bedroom and decide to opt away from contact to that thing. 

As soon as you leave for work is when your heart stops, skips a few beats and then plummets into your stomach. 

"Harry Styles in a relationship with Camille Rowe? That is the best thing I have heard all week. The star tells us that they met months ago and kept it a secret in order to get to know each other. We cant wait for updates on their relationship. Now on to the juic--" That's all you can hear for the rest of the day, ringing in your mind like it is an announcement on the P.A. at work for all to hear. 

You knew that was the end of everything. Devastation didn't even hit the mark, it was like everything in the world was on fast forward and you were still trying to get through the commercials. Nothing made sense any more, the glass was no longer half full. It was completely drained and then smashed on the ground into a million little pieces. That was how her whole body felt, like it was just shattered on the ground, irreparable. 

The damage was done and there was nothing holding you back from wailing like a siren in front of all of the patients waiting for surgery, but your best friends always had your back. Making sure you eat during lunch and taking you to the bar at the end of your shift so you can drink the bottle dry. 

Just shy of a half hour sitting at the bar was when you were cut-off by Harry running into the bar rambling about how he thought they were spinning the tabloids another way. 

"I thought they were going to report that we just met and were already dating, I would have never let them ruin what we had by saying I knew her while you and I were together. I told them exactly what to say! I don't even know her, we just met." He jumbles his sentences trying to get hold of his clear message. 

You stand up from your seated position and start motioning for him to join you outside. Once out there, you decide what is best moving forward. 

"While we were together?" You scoff, trying to be as civil as can be under your obvious exhaustion, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

"At least you said something truthful in the last two minutes you decided to interrupt my break. Yes, you and I are no longer together. Honestly we should have never started something, our careers couldn't be more opposite and honestly I cannot afford to ruin my career over someone who wants to build his on lies. So thank you for what we had but from now on I would like to move forward, away from you." You keep talking in order to get your point across, hoping that when all is said and done there will be closure on both ends. 

You know that Harry does care for you but in these last twenty four hours you've learned is that maybe you can't have it all. Maybe happily-ever-afters are only for the imagination. 

Maybe life throws things at you so you can overcome them but there are times like these when she wonders what the message is supposed to be? 

Is there a message? 

That you can have one person in your life that should be your forever but just cant fit in there? 

"I know we never said it but I do love you, I think I always will but we can't make it fit. The time we spent together was great and I hope there is a lesson in there somewhere. I can only believe that closure is what we need now." She grabs on to his shoulder and goes in for a hug to end the conversation but he pulls back,"How could you think that we need closure? What we need is each other. I need you, in my life with me forever. You are always going to be the only one for me, I just know it." He grabs on to her and holds for dear life, hoping that he can convey her to stick it out for them both. 

"I know what I'm feeling is selfish because I never want to hurt you but my career is part of my life and I can't run away from who I am but I want you in my life, always. I will never stop loving you." Harry pulls away and looks in her eyes with tears in his," I cannot fathom a life without my sunshine. Maybe the timing is wrong but cant we make it right?" 

[Y/N] pulls away, trying to compose herself and make the most rational decision. She needs to think about her life and what she needs, not anyone else. "Harry Styles, while being with you was the best rollercoaster ride of my life, and if I could stay on forever I would do so; I have to get off. I need to pull away for the sake of my head and heart. Being with you makes me happy but when it interferes with my work, which is saving lives, I have to be on one hundred percent all the time. You have clouded my thoughts and judgement, and while being a star is part of who you are, being a doctor is me so I cannot give up who I am. Sometimes maybe love isn't enough?" By this point you can't hold back the sobs you have held in since you knew the inevitable truth and holding them back would be foolish, so you let them come. 

Harry tries to grab onto you with the little strength he has left from crying and lack of sleep. "I cannot let you get away. You are my everything! I canno--" he tries to catch his breath in between the racks of his heart," please, please do not leave me [Y/N]. We can make this work. I love you and that is enough, it is enough for me. Please." Harry whispers the last part, crouching in front of you and trying to hold you to him. 

"It isn't enough for the both of us Harry, and you know it." You're trying to hold back until you can be alone. All you want is to crawl in bed and become dead to the world because that's how you feel right about now. " I will always love you and maybe one day that love will be enough but right now I just don't see how that is possible Harry. I can't rationalize what is happening in our relationship and tell you that we will make it through it. The best thing to do is cut our ties before we start to resent each other." You take one last breath, looking at your friends inside the bar. You signal to them that you're leaving, and say the one thing that you know will hurt the most. 

"I can't try anymore to be with you so this is my goodbye. I wish you the best Harry, I really do." In the middle of all this you had a death grip on his hands but now is the time to walk away from one of the best things to happen to you. As gut wrenching as it is, the best thing for the both of them was to move on. Worry about the time in their career when it is at the peak so as hurtful as it is, she knows that she is doing what's best. 

You pull away from his grasp, looking down at him kneeling on the ground and kiss his forehead. "I love you." You whisper through tears. 

All you can hear behind you is wails of sirens, drunk people cheering on the football game inside but the one thing that is the loudest is Harry's cries. As soon as you walk away you break down into a blubbering mess. Your friends catch up after you, while looking at the mess you and Harry made behind. You can hear Harry's cries of desperation and the only thing your heart is telling you to do is 'go back, go back to him' but you know it's not logical. 

If it is meant to be you will make it work at a better time. Things will come together and make sense one day but not when her mind is a fuzzy mess. Maybe weeks, months or years later she will understand what it means to have love be enough. It has to mean something right? 

Good byes may hurt but sometimes they are unsurpassable. Sometimes they come barreling into your life totally unexpected and ruin something you thought could be forever. 

[haberdashing]

No Puppet Strings Can Hold Me Down (16/17)

The Magnus Archives fanfic. An AU that diverges from canon between episodes 159 and 160, in which Peter Lukas’ statement that “he got you” takes on a different meaning.

on AO3

Not everything, though, went smoothly after that point, and not just because Jon was still trapped in his own body, unable to act of his own accord. There were incidents that reminded him of the true gravity of the situation, how one wrong move could lead to consequences much graver than his current imprisonment.

The first incident started with Jonah Magnus writing something down, though Jon hadn’t thought much of it at first; he’d peeked at a few words during the writing, as it wasn’t as if he could look away, but upon grasping that it looked to be a missive every bit as pretentious as he would have expected from Jonah, Jon let his mind wander, focused more on how Jonah Magnus’ handwriting both did and did not resemble his own (it was formal-looking handwriting, filled with dramatic loops and whorls, but still slightly different than what he’d seen Elias write before) than the actual contents of what was being written. Whether it was some sort of bragging or a suicide note or somewhere in between, Jon figured that what mattered was the action that accompanied it, not the letter itself.

Jon had barely noticed that said letter was still in his pocket as the day went on, and as his body entered the bathroom, his mind was more preoccupied with Knowing the sort of thing Daisy had used that bathtub to clean up and how inadequate her cleaning efforts really were on a biological level than with how Jonah had preoccupied himself writing something earlier in the day.

Jon only focused again on the scene in front of him when, after locking the door behind them, Jonah took out the letter and thrust it in his face while making no effort to actually attend to business there.

Read this, Jon.

Jon hadn’t planned on doing so any more than he had when the same words had been in front of him before, but his eyes instinctively looked to the top of the page--and, Jon noticed, his field of vision moved with them, his head tilting ever so slightly upwards.

He could move again, then--and yet, though he hadn’t planned to read whatever Jonah had written out loud, his voice rose to do just that, its tone calm and clinical even as Jon’s hands shook.

“Stateme-”

Jon closed his eyes, closed his mouth, gritted his teeth together to stop the words from flowing up, because he recognized the pattern now. He recognized the pattern, but he’d read just enough before to know that what Jonah wanted to share with him wasn’t a statement--not a regular one, at least, not some brief anecdote about the supernatural. It was... bigger than that. It was something more.

It was, at any rate, very much not something Jon wanted to read out loud, especially after being prompted to by his captor.

(The phrase Free will is a funny old thing, isn’t it Jon? floated into Jon’s head, and he felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of it.)

Part of him wanted to read it, though, and not just the part of him that was starting to feel resigned to whatever it was Jonah had planned for his captivity here. Part of him wanted to see what Jonah thought was so important, wanted to learn why he’d requested that Jon read it, wanted to know what this was all about, wanted to Know-

Jon pulled his hands into fists, crinkling the paper in the process.

It wasn’t a statement. That was what mattered here, right? He could feed off statements, but if this wasn’t one--and it didn’t look the part, exactly, scrawled hastily onto paper that wasn’t even official Institute stock--then that didn’t matter. If he could- could justify in his mind it being something else, that would change things, right? Dream logic, and all that?

It wasn’t a statement. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let it be.

Jon hadn’t noticed that he was hyperventilating until his vision began to dim.

Do calm down, Jon. Panicking won’t get you anywhere.

“I’m not going to- to calm down!” Now Jon’s voice shook as much as his hands, but there was a strange sort of comfort to that, to knowing that his voice was his own again, panic and all. “If anything, maybe I’ll just panic louder. Martin’s out there, you know, he’ll-”

He’ll what? Think that I’m throwing a hissy fit and do his best to ignore it? Or did you think he would somehow know better?

“I...” Jon reached for the door, but as he went to unlock it he felt his body freeze up on him again, watched Jonah Magnus back away from the door and into the filthy bathtub--Jon noticed, distantly, that he could tell when his body was his own again because the shaking started up as soon as he regained control.

There was a tape recorder on the bathroom sink now, one that definitely had not been there when Jon entered the room.

Jon’s skin was crawling as he planned his next move.

“I’m not reading this.” Jon tried to sound more sure of that than he felt.

Then we’ll see how long you last in here. There’s plenty of fresh water, so it could be weeks before you succumb to hunger. Do you really think your curiosity can stay sated for that long?

“That’s your master plan? Lock me in a bathroom and hope I get bored before I die?” Jon raised his voice as he spoke, hoping that Martin might be able to overhear, might be able to put together the pieces--the mental image of Martin kicking in the door suddenly popped into Jon’s mind, and he did his best to focus on that.

You might get bored. You will get hungry. One way or another.

Jon let out a long sigh, then ran for the bathroom door, willing to fling himself into it if that was easier than unlocking the damn thing, only to have his body forced back again before he could make contact.

Don’t you want to know what’s in there? It really is fascinating work, if I do say so myself.

Jon did want to know, he did, the yearning for knowledge burned within him-

The toilet seat was up, and that gave Jon an idea.

Slowly, carefully, Jon made his way forward again, directing his gaze between the tape recorder on the sink and his own face in the mirror. (It’d been a while since Jon had gotten a good look at himself. He didn’t look well, and not just because of the scars that dotted his body now.)

“...it was always leading up to this, wasn’t it?”

More than you know.

Jon nodded, trying his best to look resigned, crouching down as he looked over at the papers still clutched in his hand... and shoved them into the water of the toilet bowl.

The paper was already starting to break apart, the ink bleeding from the pages, before Jon flushed them down to the sewers below.

Jon wasn’t surprised to find that his body was taken over again as the papers circled the drain. It didn’t matter, not really. What mattered was that whatever Jonah Magnus had written was gone now, never to return, at least not in that same form.

...this isn’t over, you know.

Jon would have laughed, if he could.

I’m pretty sure it is, actually.

The second incident came a couple days later and started as innocuously as the one before, with Martin making two cups of tea.

(Martin insisted on making meals and snacks and tea for both himself and Jonah in Jon’s body, even after showing that he knew of Jonah’s presence, and Jon did his best to determine why.

Was it simply a matter of utility, of it being almost as easy to make food for two as for one? Was Martin thinking of Jon when he did it, knowing that Jon would taste what Martin prepared for him even if he wasn’t actually the one eating it? Did Martin just not trust Jonah Magnus to fend for himself with such things?

Whatever the true reason, Jon appreciated the gesture all the same, though he was in no position to indicate as much.)

The cups were both steaming hot as Martin brought them to the table that afternoon, and Martin didn’t hesitate to take a sip of his own, but Jon’s just sat there, with Jonah making no move to drink any.

After a minute or two of this, Martin finally looked up and asked, “Aren’t you going to have some tea? I made it fresh for you, you know.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Jonah looked at Martin for a long moment before adding, “Did you know that ingesting methanol can be deadly?”

“What?” Martin’s face, pale and panicked, showed all the confusion that Jon felt but couldn’t express.

“It’s true. Though it looks and smells much like ethanol, ingesting as little as fifteen milliliters of methanol can be fatal.”

“I... wait, are...” Martin was growing paler by the second now. “Are you trying to threaten me?”

Jon’s body shook as Jonah let out a huff of amusement. “Quite the contrary, actually. I just wonder whether you know for certain whether you put more or less than fifteen milliliters of methanol in this cup of tea.”

Martin slouched down a bit in his seat, and as he did, Jon considered the implications of what had been said. Jonah Magnus seemed to be accusing Martin of trying to poison him, potentially fatally, and Martin wasn’t denying the accusation, either... but why?

Jon’s finger circled the brim of the tea cup absentmindedly. “Perhaps you’ve changed your mind about wanting to hurt Jon to get to me. That does make the game more interesting, though I would remind you that while I can find a new body if I need to, whatever you do to Jon would prove a bit more... permanent.”

“No, I- I know how that all works. Making you find a new host isn’t worth the price of losing Jon forever.”

“Well then.” Jon’s finger slid off the top of the tea cup, down its smooth surface and onto the saucer below. “If you aren’t looking to kill Jon, I believe it would be in your best interests to dispose of this cup of tea and prepare another one, one that hasn’t been adulterated in the same way.”

“Right. Of course.”

Martin took Jon’s tea cup and began emptying it out into the sink as Jon’s mind reeled.

To borrow Jonah’s metaphor, what kind of game was Martin playing here? Why would Martin try to- not to kill him, it didn’t sound like, but to poison him to some other effect? Methanol being the poison of choice, apparently, but what was so special about methanol...?

“It’s probably a good idea to use a different cup if you’re going to make a fresh batch.”

“Yes, I got that, thank you, I’m not stupid you know-”

“I am well aware of that much.”

Suddenly the information flowed into Jon’s head, everything he had been wondering and more answered in an instant.

He learned how methanol was called wood alcohol because it was once produced by distilling wood. He learned that it was often used to denature ethanol, but that some would drink the resulting mixture anyway despite its toxic properties, either not understanding the risks or being desperate enough for alcohol that they didn’t care. He learned that drinking contaminated alcohol, through this and other methods, had led to thousands of cases of methanol poisoning over the years, hundreds dying in disgrace and pain, while even the survivors often suffered long-term effects that left their lives in shambles, including-

Oh.

That was it, then, wasn’t it? That was Martin’s plan? For once the Beholding’s bank of infinite knowledge proved actually useful for something...

As Jon put together the pieces, realized why Martin had considered that particular poison to slip into his tea, for the first time in longer than Jon would care to consider, he felt something a little bit like hope.

[lady-griffin]

So, I finally watched the finale of The Good Place.

I didn’t want to watch it, because I didn’t want what has become one of my favorite shows to end – which is very fitting with the subject matter of the last episode.

But my Janet was it satisfying.

I don’t think I have ever been that satisfied or at peace with a show’s ending before, but my goodness did they do it. I have one problem, but really it was just  so wonderful that I hardly call it a problem, just a difference of opinion. 

The Good

Shawn

Shawn’s little evil, but trying to be sincere moment, was just so funny. 

Vicky

Her talking about acting and being so pretentious, she was always such a delight. I hope I’ll see Tiya Sircar in more things, she was fantastic. 

Mindy St. Claire

I just loved how she was grateful that Elenaor cared about her and her afterlife as she didn’t. It was just sweet and of course a bit pervy with those two, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Derek

Hilarious as always.

The Second Gang – Simone, John and Brent

It was nice seeing them again. Just the quickness of it, was good. Simone hanging out with Chidi and Eleanor and people she might not have hang out with before was good.

That last bit of gossip from John.

And Brent still going through the test.

Maybe their moments were too short, but I would rather have a short few seconds with them in the end then cut anything away from the main gang.

The Judge

Now listening to podcasts. Maya Rudolph is always a treasure.

The Doorman.

I love the transition of him basically being alone when we first saw him to being the center point of the afterlife that was very nice. Especially seeing him being surrounded by frogs and being so happy, to being bored and annoyed by all the frogs, to him getting a real frog.

I love Mr. Jumpy Legs

I didn’t know that was something I even wanted, but my gosh was that precious and such a nice microcosm of the overall afterlife affect.

Team Cockroach

Tahani

Tahani and her being with her family was so very touching and her living with her sister (it looked like) and them being sisters and friends to her accomplishing everything on her list and still realizing there’s more for her to do was just so damn wonderful.

I’m really happy with how her story ended, or I guess how we left her. Her not going through the door, but her finding something else to do and finding satisfaction with that was good.

Michael

Michael becoming human. That’s perfect. That’s so nice for him and Ted Dansen’s real-life wife playing his guitar teacher was so sweet and lovely.

Also, Michael trying to go through the door and it not working, was hilarious.

Such a charming former fire squid who deserves only the best.

Also Michael Realman being is actual name on earth, is hilarious and forking fantastic. 

The Bowtie

Michael giving Tahani the first bowtie we ever saw him in. That was super touching. I hope either Jameela or Ted got to keep it or stole it from set.

Janet

I love Janet. I mean Janet being a constant and experiencing all of time at once is just so Janet.

My favorite not a robot and not a girl there ever was. And I am so in love with Manny stealing the necklace and giving it to her. 

Hello and Goodbyes – Janet and Michael

I love how Michael’s and Janet’s first lines were greetings and their last lines were farewells. That’s just very nice and fitting. 

Janet and Michael’s relationship was just the best friendship ever. And Michael making sure Janet knew she could be sad and that she could always talk to him and Janet fretting over Michael in his human form, they are just the best.

Jason

Jason was very sweet. 

Him waiting for Janet to come back and him knowing that all the other Janets he saw weren’t his not-a-girl. That was very touching. And even though Jason was ready to go, him waiting and being at peace with it and just thinking about life and Janet was truly satisfying. He truly became a monk. 

And of course, Jason’s first line being about waiting for Eleanor to him actually waiting several eternities for Janet and telling Chidi to wait up was so nice. 

Chidi & Eleanor

OMG. These two. What can I even say about these two. I love them so much, these two will probably be in my top 10 ships forever.

I legit started to cry when Eleanor was so desperate to keep Chidi and telling him she didn’t want to be alone and she’d been alone her whole life. Then Chidi saying he’ll stay with her, because he loves her and Chidi never wants to make Eleanor sad.

His literal moment of peace happened when Eleanor received maternal affection and love from both his mother and her own.

I mean come on.

But of course, Chidi is ready to and wants to leave. And Eleanor realizing that letting him leave is the best thing for Chidi, no matter how sad it might make her feel, is the right thing to do.

Eleanor has grown so much from the first episode.

I mean, from someone who basically entrapped Chidi to lying for her to letting him go because it’s the best thing for him (a selfless act), she really has grown so much. And Chidi, Chidi being ready to go and being comfortable with the biggest choice of his life without a second of hesitation. My boy has grown.

It’s so forking satisfying.

And when he left her that calendar, it was so funny and sweet and stupid and just wonderful. And oddly is very fitting with this show and how it makes you feel.

The Not So Good

Honestly, nothing was bad in the finale for me. I was truly satisfied by it.

I do wish the last thing in the show, was just Eleanor walking through the door and the sound of waves being the last thing we hear.

To me that would’ve been a bit more fitting and satisfying. 

At least for me.

There’s something about a show that is literally about the afterlife and the final episode being about how we have no idea what is going to happen in the end, is just so excellent to me.

I love that so much. 

There being no definitive answer, is oddly the most satisfying thing this show could’ve done with what happens after you go through the final door.

That being said, I do really like and love the idea that after you choose to leave the afterlife - a bit of you becomes a moment, a little voice to another to do the right thing. 

Fitting with Eleanor’s journey and the whole, what do we owe one another question.

And just the idea that the world is becoming a better place, with the good place residents being allowed to leave and becoming said moments on earth and the bad place residents being allowed to try, try again until they get it right. 

So, I really don’t have a problem with the ending and I do really love it. 

I would’ve just ended it with Eleanor walking through the door and the sound of waves. 

I personally just like the question not being answered in the end. 

But by goodness, did they end this show with perfection. It’s hard to write about my so called problem, because I did love the ending we got, even if I might’ve done it a bit differently. 

What a truly lovely and satisfying show, that has beat my expectations every single time. 

Just a truly well-made, well-acted, wonderful and lovely show with a lovely and wonderfully diverse and talented cast.

I love The Good Place.

And while I hate to see it go, I loved watching it leave.  

[gaknar]

Review: The Claremont Crossovers

Geez, I haven’t written a review for this blog since my Secret Wars review from like 17 years ago. How can that be? Well, I guess I used to work on this blog a lot more often and now I’ve gotten way more into Super Nintendo games and BDSM. Like a lot of people. But now that I finally finished reading Inferno, it is time once again to bookend my experience with an overly wordy wall of text filled with the worst kind of oblivious meninist butt humor jokes and pretentious sounding run-on sentences that are trying to sound smart but are always improperly ended with prepositions of. And lots of ridiculous comic book panels.

These are only the silliest panels from this reading that I could find after looking for about 25 seconds.

Bookeeping. This review covers everything that I have read since X-Factor #1. This includes Uncanny X-Men #204-243, X-Factor #1-39, New Mutants #38-73, along with a smattering of annuals, Daredevil, Power Pack, Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Excalibur, and X-Terminators comics that were all part of the Mutant Massacre, Fall of the Mutants, and Inferno crossovers. There were a lot of developments over the course of the 4 years these comics were published. Jean Grey was resurrected and the original members of the X-Men reformed under the moniker X-Factor.

Mr. Sinister formed his band of evil mutants, the Marauders, who would become the X-Men’s main antagonists, and their most devious act would include committing mutant genocide against the Morlocks in the New York City sewers while dealing critical wounds to main X-Men team members Kitty Pryde, Nightcrawler, and Colossus during the fight.

Later, the X-Men were seemingly killed in a struggle with the mystical being known as the Adversary, but in reality they went into hiding in their new Australian outback base.

Illyana Rasputin lost control of the hell dimension Limbo which led to a demon invasion of Manhattan.

And finally, perhaps most prominently, Cyclops left his wife Madelyne Pryor and their son to get back together with Jean Grey, an act that led Madelyne to become corrupted with Pheoenix Force power and to turn into the Goblin Queen.

This era of X-Men comics contains the first major crossovers between the main X-Men comic book and its spinoffs. These events would become common as Marvel found ways to use its more strongly published works to carry the weaker ones, and the ploy still works apparently since here I am 30 years later reading 500 page omnibus collections just because there are 4 or 5 absolutely killer X-Men comic books in them. I love the X-Men so much that I’m willing to wade through the unending buildup to get the most out of the climaxes.

Seriously this artwork.

However, I find that this style of editing leads to a peculiar trend in pacing that can be tough to recover from in-between the major storylines. As Mutant Massacre leads into Fall of the Mutants, which then leads into Inferno, the characters are faced with consistently increasing stakes. With each passing story line, casualties grow and become more grave, and the consequences are more lasting. Mutant Massacre starts with the genocide of a mutant community, and several main characters are critically wounded as the X-Men face the worst defeat they’ve ever experienced. Then a year later in Fall of the Mutants, just as the team is starting to recover, the entire team of X-Men is killed during their battle against the Adversary. They would immediately be resurrected as a reward for sacrificing themselves to save the world, but it is still a defeat that claims the lives of every member of the team, if only for a moment. By the time we get to Inferno, the world is literally ending. Demons are raining from the sky and regular people are straight up getting slaughtered in the streets and elevators as the X-Men are more or less helpless to stop the destruction.

Inferno is an amazing storyline, if only for all the scenes of inanimate objects coming to life and straight up eviscerating common folk who are just minding their own business. Look at this shit!!! How did the comics code of conduct ever approve this. A mob of people just packed themselves into a demon FOOD PROCESSOR and every inch of them was liquefied except their bones. Chilling. (And let’s just forget about how the writers retconned all this blood orgy stuff in the Inferno Epilogue).

This all works in a capitalistic sense. Constantly raise the stakes and don’t let up for a second because if you do, the reader will take their eyes off the page and you will lose money. But the problem is, you can’t do this forever. And if you try, eventually you are going to write yourself into a corner where you’ve raised the stakes so many times, and you’ve re-manufactured the drama so often, people will stop caring. I call this the Dragon Ball effect.

How many times have these characters become gods at this point? Like three movies ago, the most recent movie was literally called “Battle of Gods.” I’m not even watching Super. Once your characters get so far away from humanistic stories people can relate to, you are no longer creating art. You’re manufacturing sensationalism. And it gets boring. These guys are starting to look like different flavors of freezie pops.

Maybe this is why the X-Men comics that come after this, the comics that make up the last leg of writer Chris Claremont’s 17 year run on the series, become so weird. Because perhaps there was no way to continue to raise the stakes any higher. After this point, we don’t get any more big crossovers until X-Tinction Agenda, but even that story is small and quaint when compared to what is presented here. Wolverine completely disappears from the series, all our other favorite characters disappear into the Seige Perilous to be transformed into completely different versions of themselves, and we get a lot of surreal stories that don’t have any sort of climax in the way that we’ve been conditioned to expect. The series becomes murky and ambiguous, without a solid narrative arc, and I think that’s why people regard the end of Chris Claremont’s writing on the series to be the weakest part of his run.

I can’t wait to read the X-Men comics that are coming up next. Because I didn’t know what in the FUCK was going on in these comics when I was a kid and I’m hoping they make more sense now.

Anyway, I’ll be the judge of all that, once I get there. (I may even indulge in the Infinity Gauntlet omnibus because, you know, there’s a couple X-Men involved in that). But regardless of what comes after this, I think it’s also true that the crossovers presented in this reading are generally regarded with less respect than Chris Claremont’s earlier work on the series, such as the Dark Phoenix Saga and Days of Future Past. This I don’t agree with. While the stories in this reading do range in quality, with Fall of the Mutants definitely being the weakest of the three big crossovers, and even though the Uncanny X-Men portion of Inferno isn’t even the central story of that crossover (the critical story elements take place in the far inferior issues of New Mutants and <ugh> X-Terminators written by Louise Simonson), Claremont’s writing is still much stronger, more layered, and more elegant than anything else that is presented in these collections. These crossovers may not be as timeless or original as the most famous X-Men stories, but the writing here is still really darn good and engaging (at least in Uncanny X-Men), and in my opinion, does not represent a decline in aptitude on the part of the writer. It’s clear that Claremont’s writing has continued to mature and become more nuanced, so much so that when you compare it to the first issues he wrote for the series, it seems like he’s a completely different writer.

KALIDASCOPICALLY. Again, these were just the silliest panels I could find after looking for about 25 seconds.

Personally, I love this period of X-Men comics. Under Claremont’s executive control, no plot thread gets dropped. No minor detail goes disregarded. Characters continue to grow and develop at such a natural pace, sometimes it feels like my own life is developing right alongside theirs. This adds depth to these readings and I can’t describe how it feels to be a part of them, and I think it’s this element that is missing from so many other comic books written by so many other comic book writers, including nearly every X-Men story written after Chris Claremont left the series.

Case in point, there are so many minor recurring characters that appear in these stories, like Franklin Richards. (I seriously tear up every time I see these panels). This little guy bounces around the Power Pack, the X-Men, and the Fantastic Four like a ping pong ball. He’s a key character in the story line where Kitty Pryde finally recovers from the wounds she suffered during Mutant Massacre. And even though Kitty and Franklin have only met each other a few times, those meetings have meaning and they are remembered and called upon in the telling of the current story. All of the efforts made by the writers and editors to keep the narrative linked make these characters seem like real life people with weight and substance, rather than a thin layer of ink on a piece of paper. And it totally works.

Ugh, this review turned into another circle jerk about the writers of these comics, and especially about Chris Claremont. But what can I say. It’s because of the writers that we are here. Love or hate these comics, and I know Claremont’s wordy scripts are not everyone’s cup of tea, but these are the stories that make the X-Men what they are. It’s tough to be aware of these things when you’re in the middle of reading them, but I’m having the absolute best time writing this blog right now, and it is primarily because these are the comics that resonate with me the most. And when I’m finished with Claremont’s material and I’m slogging through some crap written by Chuck Austen, I bet I’m going to look back on these days with envy.

[atiny-orbit1219]

Body Waves

Idol: Wong Yukhei/Lucas from NCT

Prompt: Whenever your mom is too busy with work you’re left taking your little sister to her dance lessons. I’m the midst of being stressed from finals your mom asked you to take your sister to dance. It was safe to say you weren’t happy but you did it anyway. The normal instructor is on leave and taking her place temporarily is her dangerously handsome nephew, Lucas. You find yourself immediately falling for the adorable boy so what are you going to do when he asks if you’d like a private lesson?

Warnings: suggestive?? I don’t know.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You peel the sticky note from the fridge and immediately groan. It was difficult to read your mother’s scratchy writing but you could tell what it said at one glance. “Working late tonight. Take your sister to her dance class please.” You mumble. Normally this wouldn’t be such an issue but finals week is approaching and the time spent watching your little sister twirl around clumsily could be used studying instead. Of course though, you were going to do it. There is no use in arguing with your mother. You’ll just bring your textbooks and do what you can.

After a quick breakfast you were out of the house and off to your college campus to have a day full of iced coffee, tears, and study guides. No one ever told you college was like this, the movies made it seem like two semesters of non stop partying and drinking but so far it's only been non stop crying and stressing. “Hey Y/N! You coming to the library with us? We’re gonna go over the study guide together.” you let out a soft sigh and shake your head. “Can’t… I’d love to but I have to take my littler sister to her dance lesson right after class.” You whine, pulling your bag over your shoulder as your friends give you looks of sympathy.

You head to the parking lot, test questions and answers running through your mind at full speed. You were too busy thinking you almost walked past your car. You groan to yourself, frustrated at how things are playing out. You take a few steps backwards and enter your car, going to pick up your sister from school. Within minutes you arrived at the junior high and watched as your sister jogged over to you and slid into the passenger side.

“The new dance instructor is starting today!” Your sister said excitedly, you two were chatting about your days to pass time and she just remembered that the temporary replacement instructor’s first day is today. The regular instructor is busy birthing a child so her nephew is taking over as he is on holiday from some pretentious dance school in The city. You nod at your sister’s words, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “I wonder what he’ll teach you guys.” I hum, curious to how this new guy was gonna handle ten little girls at once. At least now you’ll have some entertainment in the background while you study.

You and your sister were the last to walk through the glass doors of the dance studio, but luckily you weren’t late. You noticed the normal group of moms all huddled, whispering to each other and pointing to the door that led to one of the dance rooms. You of course just figured they were gossiping about something or someone.. typical dance moms.

You follow your sister and the rest of the group into the studio once it was time for the lesson to start. Your head was already buried in the textbook, your eyes scanning the pages as the path to the seats was muscle memory at this point. Except... they weren’t there. Instead a stereo has taken their place. You didn’t notice until it was too late. You tripped on one of the wires, your stomach dropping from fear and surprise as you saw the ground approaching, your textbook falling from your hands as you attempted to catch yourself. You closed your eyes, awaiting your fate to hit the hardwood floor… yet the impact never came. You felt a hand wrap around your arm and pull you against what felt like a brick wall but you soon found out it was your savior’s chest. You gasp in shock as he speaks. “You should really pay attention to where you’re walking.” His voice was lighthearted and his smile was blinding as he looked down at you.

You had to blink a few times to make sure this was real. You looked up at him, his tan face, gorgeous smile, beautiful brown eyes, and perfect hair… there’s no possible way someone this good looking was standing this close to you. “Oh! Well uh- you know- t-the chairs! They’re usually here.” You stutter like a complete idiot as all knowledge of basic human functions leaves your brain to make room for every little detail of him to be sealed in your mind forever. He just laughs and you swear it was the sound you hear as you enter Heaven’s gates. “Sorry.. I moved them to the other side to match my studio back at home.., it was a bit confusing.” He explains and you could only dumbly nod along.

He finally lets you go and reaches down, grabbing your textbook from the floor and holding it out for you. “Oh.. I heard this class is brutal.. good luck!” He says with a charming smile. You reach out, grasping the book tightly as you let out a small laugh. “Thank you! And yeah it’s a bit tough.. but probably not as tough as teaching these girls so good luck to you as well.” You hum before turning around to take a seat with all the other moms. Your heart was racing a mile a minute, your cheeks still red from the encounter as you pretended to read the book while you actually listened to the stranger introduce himself.

“Hello! My name is Lucas!” He said, his deep voice filling the room causing you to almost melt into the chair. “My aunt is currently on maternity leave so that means you're stuck with me for a few months.” He joked. The girls laughed as he continued. “Your teacher gave me your recital song and I have free reign on choreography so let’s make this something no ones ever seen before yeah?” Lucas smiles his heart stopping smile before leading the girls through stretches.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. No matter how hard you tried you always found yourself staring at his body while he taught. Every now and then he’d feel your eyes and turn to look at you, which you would quickly look down at the book in your lap. This boy had you and the other moms wrapped around his finger. All they talked about was how good looking he was and how taking off their wedding rings sounded like a great idea at the moment.

The hour passed by in what felt like minutes and soon it was time to go. You bite your lip, waving a goodbye to Lucas before gathering your sister and going home.

The next few weeks you practically begged your mom to let you take your sister to dance class. Finals were over and now you could let yourself become completely infatuated with Lucas. The previous week he asked you how your test had gone and you felt your knees go weak. He remembered!! You could almost squeal at how happy it made you. You knew you were acting like a middle school girl with a crush but you couldn’t help it.. Lucas is hands down the best looking man you’ve ever seen and he’s also caring, funny, sweet and just… perfect.

After another hour of watching Lucas magically keep the attention of the girls, the class came to an end and like every other day you go to wave goodbye and collect your sister so you two could drive home and you can rant about just how gorgeous Lucas looked today.

“Hey! Y/n!” You were stopped in your tracks as Lucas jogged over to you. You turn around to face him, your heart skipping a beat just from the close proximity. “Oh hey Lucas! Did my sister leave her shoes again because I swear I’m gonna start glueing them to her feet.” You pout and Lucas can only smile. “No not this time… Although your sister did tell me you were interested in dancing.” Your eyes went wide at his words. “Did she now?” You ask cluelessly, your gaze shifting to your sister giving you a thumbs up and a cheeky smile from behind Lucas’s back. This little brat- “If you’d like I can give you a few… private lessons?” Lucas offered. Scratch that, your sister is an angel and you will definitely get her ice cream on the way home. “Really? You’d do that?” You ask, a blush forming at the idea of being alone with Lucas. “Yeah! I need the teaching experience and my aunt gave me the keys to the studio… so maybe you can come by Friday night after close?” He asked with a shy smile which you returned. “Okay! Sounds great! I’ll see you then.. I guess.” You say nervously and Lucas nods. “See you then.”

As Friday night finally comes you find yourself panicked. “What do I wear? What do I say? You put me in this mess! Help me!” You order your sister who just laid on your bed to watch the chaos unfold. “Wear the one black tank top with your leggings, black is so your sweat stains don’t show.” She says calmly. “You’re a genius.” You say as you gather the outfit and get dressed. “Hair up or down?” You ask for advice once more. “Wear it down then before the lesson starts put it up while he’s watching… guys like that.” You nod, putting the hair tie on your wrist for later. “How do I look?” You wait for your final evaluation as your sister stands up to get a closer look. She lifts your arm, takes a sniff, then hums in approval. “You’re ready my young grasshopper.” You shove her shoulder but smile anyways. “I’m ready…” you say softly before grabbing your keys and purse before heading to the studio.

You see Lucas’s car already in the parking lot as you take a deep breath. He’s just a guy teaching you a few dance steps.. you repeat this as you enter the building. You find Lucas in the studio and he smiles as you walk in. “Hey.” He said softly. “Hi.” You reply. “I went ahead and picked the song and choreographed everything.” You were surprised at how prepared he was and it only made you fall further for him. “Just so you know I have two left feet and no rhythm.” You exaggerate and Lucas laughs. “I’m sure that’s not true… plus… you have me to guide you.” You blush at his comment but nod your head.

You remember the hair tie on your wrist and gulp nervously before bringing your hands up to your hair. You could feel Lucas’s eyes on you as you gather the strands into a low ponytail. After he knew he was caught staring he just cleared his throat and walked over to the middle of the dance floor. “Okay.. you ready?” He asked. You walked over to his side, “ready.”

You were not expecting the choreo to be this touchy. Once Lucas started showing you the moves and you felt his large hands on your waist you almost lost the ability to function. You somehow managed to keep up with him though as he instructed you on how to move your body with his. Soon you were ready to dance with the music. The low base filled the room as you immerse yourself into the dance so you wouldn’t focus on your body pressed against Lucas’s. There was one move where your back was pressed against Lucas’s chest and you swayed your hips against him. While learning the move you were careful about leaving some space between you two but you decide to take the risk as you grow drunk on Lucas’s touch. He noticed your change in confidence and couldn’t help but smile but that smile soon faltered. He choreographed this dance.. he should’ve known better than putting in a move where you are literally just grinding on him.

Lucas tried to continue to the next move where he turned you around to face him and he stopped there, the dance long forgotten as you give him a confused look. “Why did you st-“ Lucas leaned down, cupping your face with both hands and captured your lips with his. You didn’t hesitate and kissed him back, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as he pulled you closer, his lips moving expertly against yours. You’ve dreamt this moment over and over again but you never thought it would feel this good. Your whole body felt like it was on fire as Lucas slowly pulled away, a small smile on his face. You smiled back, an unspoken understanding flooding both of you as you jumped up into his arms. He catches you effortlessly and your lips are on his again.

You kissed until you felt lightheaded from lack of oxygen, your back pressed against the cold glass of the mirror as you studied Lucas’s face from up close. His messy hair from your hands, his swollen lips from your kiss, his eyes full of admiration for you.. your mark was on him and even though you couldn’t see yourself you’re sure his was on you too. And if not it sure was gonna be as his lips traveled to your neck. You were never going to complain about taking your sister to dance class again.

[pavlikovskaya]

the secret history live blogged

forever mad that i got spoilered so much on this book.

anyway hello! and welcome to this … shit fest of the secret history by donna tartt aka the biggest letdown of my life

enjoy! i didn’t

ok whaatttt the fuck. he was walked over?? he was packed and squished under ice?? WHAT DID THIS BUNNY GUY DO TO MAKE Y’ALL SO MAD????? istg what the fuck. cruel cruel fate

four against one, i knew y’all were assholes. you sounded like assholes before i even knew what your names were.

i have to say, i’m not a very big fan on the beginning: hello, my name is richard, i am 28, this is my story. makes it sound like he’s in an AA meeting, but i’ll let this one slide.

years at home dispensable like a plastic cup? fictional history and upbringing tales? [*clears throat in relatable*]

my father was mean, my house ugly, my mum didn’t give me attention, must kill someone to cope and serve the aesthetic™ of rejected, unloved child, brooding and mad at the world. got it.

if richard, plain and poor is the one who kills the rich asshole bc he’s a rich asshole, i might relate to him more than i thought.

[*slams book shut*] okay. okay. am i gonna have to google every other phrase in this godforsaken history book or is donna gonna go easy on my ass?

sounds like a university i would love to go to. oh, pardon me, CoLlEgE.

wait, they’d pay him back for the plane if he GOT IN??? and if he didn’t well then what, soz dude, tough luck , such is life, see ya never? makes a lot of sense. should pay him back regardless imo but hey, i had to pay £50 six times to audition at universities who, all six times, rejected me, so.

three days on a bus and arrival at six in the morning? i cannot fathom a worse scenario.

this prof conducts his selection on a personal level rather than on an academic one, said with a note of sarcasm? is he … you know … ?

ahhhh these saucy saucy tea spilling french people, gotta love em. ‘listen, i know i’ve only met you three minutes ago, but i’m bout to spill some serious tea which i must ask you to keep to yourself and never mention for i have some formidable enemies in the literature division, yes, my very own department, but we all actually love each other. you know, in a very shakespearian ‘i shall murder you at the end of the play but for now, let’s make sweet love under the stars as a witch friend of mine who will later murder you watches’ way. all very platonic. but don’t say a word of it.’

who do you think was with morrow when richard came to see him in the lyceum and what were they talking about? GODDAMN IT, this french bastard put me in a gossipy mood.

bunny — short for edmund…….

god, i love a redhead.

richard and me being whipped by francis and his long, flapping black coats, love to see it.

‘pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded and black clouting was de rigueur’ can I enrol ~now~????

francis talks to cats and bunny yells from his window down at the incest twins to stop snogging in the garden. i can’t wait to see which one am I at the end of the book

henry and julian driving off together? do i smell something…. gay?

THEY WRITE WITH FOUNTAIN PENS????? [*flashbacks from my childhood intensify*].

i do not understand most of these references or sentences and if the whole book is like this, i will throw myself out the window in attempted suicide even though i live on the ground floor.

i have absolutely no idea what they’re on about.

hwhat

francis in black cashmere and cigarette smoke brushed past him and almost touched his arm. how bloody delicious is this??

‘give him some flowers and he’ll enrol you.’ ok, julian is definitely the gay prof everyone falls for.

at this stage, i would rater have voted we kill henry, not bunny, but we’ll see.

‘i was tired of being poor.’ [*buys a tie with pictures of men hunting deer on it*] ‘that’s better.’

‘i believe that it is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially.’ donna tartt gave me the book and the reason both.

constantly chuckling at the way richard is so completely mesmerised and intimidated by francis to the point that he’ll duck into a doorway to let him pass even though they’re going to the same lesson.

I don’t know how a ‘bostonian voice’ is supposed to sound like so francis will be slightly british in my mind for the rest of the book.

cubitum eamus? cubitum. eamus? CUBITUM?? EAMUS????? OH! GOD! HELP ME! THE SWEET SWEET HOMOEROTIC FORESHADOWING OF IT ALL!!! throwback to when, in a much too similar vein, boris, upon being asked by theo to say something in russian for him, he said ‘fuck you up the ass’. my heart is racing with yearn. i can’t fucking believe i just read this. it’s time to bust out the annotation tabs again.

oh my gooooddd whAt is henry’s problem????? he reminds me slightly of number one from the umbrella academy, but in a meaner, more show-offy, bastardish way that’s supposed to showcase his superior intelligence over all mortals like fuck you, go read harry potter and chill.

‘meke (s.p.) you Wear it’? i take it meke is actually make but what on earth is (s.p.)? google gave me 238 possible definitions for that acronym and, needless to say, i didn’t bother.

i love how donna’s main characters are funny essentially bc they’re bitches towards other people they deem inferior to them in their internal monologues.

if you were drunk and ‘slam-dancing’ at a party, i don’t have to be stuck up or elitist to judge you and hate on you. even less so if you throw your beer in my face.

‘love that jacket, silk, isn’t it?’ ‘yep, my grandfather’s. totally not from that annoying girl in my dorm whose mate your mates beat up at a party last term for shoving camilla and throwing a beer in her face and who probably only gave me the jacket because she wants to fuck me, nope.’

‘let me get that door for you.’ that’s it, that’s the tweet.

when bunny said they should round up the ‘officious fags and burn them at the stake’ i yelled the loudest what the fuck i’ve ever yelled at a book. i can see now why they killed him. and i bet that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

okay, his true colours are starting to show. it’s even more unnerving when i think about the fact that like half of this stuff is supposed to be true.

called it, they’re boning.

i can’t wait until francis locks lips with richard. i am simply tingling for it. i hope he and camilla have a threesome with richard at this country house. oh wait no, they’re all here. eh, maybe another time.

oh, we finally get some juicy inside gossip

if francis and richard don’t fuck in that gorgeous immense library, i will riot.

okay, what’s henry’s deal? he’s nice now? and he’s oddly … interested in/caring towards richard? like who the fuck says ‘i hope you slept well’ without at least a little affection towards them.

AHAHAHAAHA, NOW I GET ALL THOSE MOON LANDING QUESTIONS ON THE TSH RELATED UQIZZES I STUPIDLY TOOK. I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS REAL. imagine them lot in present day completely bewildered and confused at the fact that the whole world is in lockdown for some weird fucking reason. this is the funniest shit ever, swear to god.

dogs get heart attacks?

wow they’re being dicks. that shady shit they’re doing’s so fucking rude aajksdhfkfh and to think i had initially thought richard was the ‘leader’ of their group...

okay, they’re either all into bdsm or they’re some odd breed of late vampires who don’t have much of the traits/qualities of ‘classic’ vampires as they have possibly diminished over the centuries as the species was becoming extinct. maybe witches. hm. or occultists. I REALLY DON’T KNOW!!

richard be like ‘what should I tell you?’ well—and this is merely a suggestion—, how about you start with what they’re actually doing when they’re not hanging out with you?????

i can’t wait for bunny to figure/find out richard’s not actually rich and be a dick about it.

two months??? what kind of bonkers winter vacation between terms is that???

is being constantly cold part of the dark academia aestehtic? cos it certainly seems to be.

what the fuck are these (sp)s bunny keeps putting in his letters??

i hope somebody (henry, or maybe francis? as something that would bring them together?) is fake rich too.

ouuuuu here comes the dark, mental stuff.

richard dropped out of drama to study the classics. if we were villains is a group of people studying shakespeare. coincidence? i think not. it is with dread that i think at the possibility that i might like the other more because so far, i can’t say i’m heavily impressed with tsh.

now i’m all for weird, fancy names, but marchbanks is really an odd one. who the fuck looks at their newborn baby and goes ben? nah. tom? no. MARCHBANKS! perfect.

henry winter saves richard from a piping cold winter. ah, don’t bother, i’ll do it myself [*jumps out the window*]

henry dislikes electric lights? smokes cigarettes without filter? reads milton translated into latin ‘just to see if a language with no noun cases could possibly support the structural order he attempts to impose’? can this dude be any more pretentious?

BUNNY! IT’S BUNNY! HE’S FAKE RICH THE BASTARD! ALL THAT ‘oops, forgot my wallet’ BULLSHIT, I THOUGHT IT WAS A TEST FOR RICHARD OR JUST RICH PEOPLE LEECHING OFF OTHERS (why spend yours when you can spend theirs?) BUT NOOOO, HE’S BROOOOKE! AND AN ASSHOLE! WHAT AN ASSHOLE!!! serves him right, the asshole (that gay people being burnt at the stake comment really bothered me despite the fact that i laughed). and not only is he broke and leeching off of henry, he leeches in the most shameless, greedy, extravagant and ignorant way, ordering the most expensive thing on the menu fuck out of here.

ha! he got fat the bastard. found some sugar daddy to sustain you during your last month in italy or what?

this rabbit dude sure has some big balls for a broke ass bitch.

‘let me see your head wound.’ vs ‘your arm.’

‘that sort of tension which i, being rather more disinclined that way than not, am quick to pick up on. i had caught a strong breath of it from francis, a whiff of it at times from julian (…)’ sounds like we got another one boys, a straight dude with the best gaydar in the world. that being said, julian is the fakest bitch in the book so far.

this secrecy is killing the ever-loving shit out of me. argentina one way?? whY

lol if you’re gonna steal his book with the intention of having him come back to the apartment and see all that shit, at least don’t put it in such an obvious place where he couldn’t have possibly missed it. for such a smart guy, you sure are dumb, dude.

francis’ mother be like ‘give that bad boy a kiss from me’ and i’m like HE BETTER.

richard the worst liar. just say your mum called for fuck’s sake! you could get your boyfriend in trouble!

cheesecake cover: ‘please do not steal this, i am on financial aid.’ bunny: [*steals it*] the cheesecake: [*sucks*] me: serves you fucking right, pig.

THINKING ABOUT HIS HANDICAP. I’M YELLING. funniest thing donna tartt ever wrote.

i bet they’re all there sat at the table like nothing happened and weren’t supposed to leave anywhere at all.

called it! motherfuckers.

what the hell is going on. are they a gang of assassins or something?

richard: ‘you killed somebody, didn’t you?’ henry: [*laughs as if it was the most ridiculous idea in the world and how could you possibly suggest such a thing*] yep

bunny: gays are weirdly obsessed with food, don’t you think? also bunny: [*gets excluded from the bacchanal because he couldn’t stop eating*]

okay. i can see now why this book started the whole dark academia aesthetic

aight, that’s all good and great (far from it) but WHERE IS MY FRANCIS CONTENT????

going through the motions of hating and liking henry every other chapter.

everybody: [*burning clothes, cleaning the car, running this way and that to get rid of evidence*] francis: aight y’all imma take a power nap real quick cool? cool

there is hardly anything in the world i hate more than loose-of-tongues. bunny and that bitch ass hely from the little friend. god, i want to sock each and every single one of them in their stupid bloody loud mouths.

i want to know, i really want to know if there are any bunny apologists or … s…. s… [*grits teeth*] stans out there. don’t worry, nothing will happen to you, i just wanna talk.

if it’s henry and richard and not francis and richard,,,,, i will riot.

boy this henry guy smokes a lot…. more than me in my prime.

as if this dude reenacted the murder he wasn’t even present at in the lobby of a hotel just to torture henry. i can’t believe this character is still alive and has been for so long.

FINALLY! one francis moment that indicated there will be no more francis moments…. .

funny that, reading the secret history put something into perspective about the goldfinch for me.

i love how richard just casually throws it in there whenever he happens to mention camilla that he loves her and wants to kiss her and that she’s so beautiful and blah blah blah and then it’s never brought up again ever because he’s constantly going on and on about henry.

wait, don’t tell me it’s happening now, in the middle of the book! that would be most unexpected as there’s a whole entire book following.

henry is such a stone cold bitch, i wonder where they put his heart when they made him, in his ass?

don’t tell me henry went boxer dogs on JULIAN?!?!?! he wouldn’t. … would he?

i don’t know. i get it, obviously, the gravity of the situation, but going as far as killing him to silence him is a bit … extreme in my opinion.

thank you, charles, for being the only voice of reason in this madness.

okay, i understand it’s in richard’s best interest not to be involved, but they called him there to what, make him listen to all this and then send him on his merry way?

charles: well, if you wake up intending to murder someone at two o’clock, you hardly think of what you’re going to feed the copse for dinner. [*crickets*] francis: hey, how about asparagus?

henry: someone’s coming. quick! act normal! richard: [*turns to inspect the trunk of a tree*] [*footsteps approach*] richard: [*inspection of tree intensifies!!*]

you’re a bit late, bunny, just saying.

and now what the fuck is the rest of the book about? what do we do, let’s run, let’s stay, let’s go to the police, what do we do with him?

i love how richard describes himself as part of the process: we dwelt on it, we convinced ourselves, we devised plans when in reality, he was only there as an attaché, he wasn’t included much, almost at all in the actual planning process of it other than to give his insight on the poison route because henry thought it was his area of expertise so to speak when, really, it wasn’t and then was told about the other plan because they simply thought he should know. even then henry tells him ‘you can go now, if you like’ because there wasn’t anything they sort of needed him for anymore since he wasn’t going to be there, he was just a pair of ears. i like to think he was there in hopes to maybe dissuade them, try to stop them, tell them how mad it is, tell them there’s another way, but he didn’t do much of that either (not that I think he would’ve succeeded anyway, had he tried, henry’s one stubborn motherfucker). he didn’t come up with shit, he wasn’t supposed to even be there, i think, much less contribute in any way. had bunny not told him about the bacchanal, richard would have probably found out about it after it was already done, he was only included for the fucks of it and yet, he talks as if he was right there in the room with them, brainstorming ideas how to kill him. and i get how it only comes from a sense of obvious guilt because he knew about it, he was there and didn’t do anything to stop it, but he’s by far not one to have agreed to the whole thing or condoned it in any way from what he’s told us in book one. he himself says in the very same paragraph that he only watched. he’s very much a dark academia nick carraway type of character and i hate it. because i like him. he deserves better.

i’m pretty sure that the reason that serial killer autobiography you picked up in an airport was bereft of details is because no publishing house would allow such lurid specifications that might shock, disgust, enrage or give ideas to the reader in their book, not because the author is shy, richard, but ok, let’s move on. actually no, let’s not. you can’t expect the autobiography of a killer to only tell you about the murders, especially since in this particular instance, he was caught and went to prison. of course he’s going to tell you more about that than the killings, have you any idea what prison life is like? how much it eats away at your soul? how it crushes your spirit if you have one and how hard it is to get over? the time he spent in jail is going to haunt him forever and after such a long time in there, however long it was, you hardly think about your crime as anything but a huge mistake that was not worth the torment if you’re not a downright psychopath which, since he came out and wrote a book about it, doesn’t seem to be the case here but i guess you’ll find out all about it soon enough.

OH! a francis moment???? could this be it? please dear god may this be it.

it wasn’t, but there’s another one!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

‘it’s fun, i promise you.’ [*dies*]

if this is it, if that’s all, i am not forgiving this book.

‘i tried to pull him out but it was no good; his head lolled back uselessly’ YEAH. BECAUSE HE’S DEAD, RICHARD. [*scoffs*] ‘uselessly’

i wish i held any of my teachers and professors in at least half the high regard henry holds julian. i also wish they were half as competent and passionate about teaching as julian.

I DON’T BELIEVE ‘HE WAS JUST THERE’. IT’S BORIS AND THEO AT 6 AM IN THAT NEW YORK BAR ALL OVER AGAIN. HE’S ONLY SAYING THAT BECAUSE RICHARD WENT ALL ‘YOU’RE NOT HOT’ ON HIS ASS AND I REFUSE TO BELIEVE OTHERWISE. if they don’t kiss again—

i can’t help but admire the way they communicate sensitive information to each other in ancient greek, they sound like characters from jane austen novels while talking about drugs and saving face from tabloids and gossip, it’s rather amazing.

quite pointless to go through all that trouble to hide the cigarettes and deny having been smoking when the smell will be there no matter what and she’ll know for sure. i swear, all these seemingly smart ass people are actually idiots

my question is why would anyone, drunk or not, for any reason, leave the top down in the rain? why? what possible pleasure could one get from driving in the middle of the rain with rain actually pouring down on them?

isn’t linoleum a bit tacky for a house that looks like it’s been in architectural digest?

why is charles so on edge? why are they all always hiding??? camilla and her late night 3 am phone calls, her secret phone code with henry, charles mysteriously going out for cigarettes so brusquely without a word in the middle of the night and refusing to talk about it, what are they all always hiding?! nobody trusts one another with anything, it’s very annoying, to be honest. aren’t they supposed to be super best friends? you’d think that after a bacchanal and a double homicide, you wouldn’t keep secrets from one another, but i guess not.

ah, shame. was kind of hoping for some sneaky richard/francis basement action, but alas. what’s their ship name anyway, richis?

i just spoilered myself again, twice, by going through the tsh tag on tumblr and then looking for francis/richard fanfics on ao3 and finding out that francis marries? gets with? a girl who’s apparently called fucking priscilla. donna tartt really has a knack for weird fancy names, huh? i’m here for it tbh

richard you fucking snitch! you had one job!!!!!!

why the fuck are they still keeping him in the dark about shit? henry and charles quarrelled and charles is in jail and henry still won’t tell him what’s so bad about it and why he wants richard to handle all this shit instead of him and why bunny’s murder still matters and why why just why are they still using him as their pawn??

seriously, this exchange was about the worst they’ve had so far. he himself knows it: ‘there was a silence during which I felt acutely the hopelessness of ever trying to get to the bottom of anything with henry. he was like a propagandist, routinely withholding information, leaking it only when it served his purposes.’ THEN WALK AWAY. SAY NO. PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN. FUCKING—UGH!!!!!!!

they’re all so shamelessly using him… i can’t read. it’ll kill him, one way or another.

these ungrateful little shits i swear to god. richard bails him out, he’s all thankful and sweet when he wants him to do ‘this one little favour’ of taking him to his francis’ house so he can break in and when richard’s like i don’t have a car, he immediately turns sour and passive aggressive like you know what?! richard hasn’t slept all night and all morning waiting for your ass to go to court cos you were a drunken idiot and decided YET AGAIN that driving in that state is a great idea so he can bail you out and when you are finally out, you start being fussy and then it’s all ‘right. thanks a lot’??? richard doesn’t fucking need this shit! y’all are horrible friends. he’s not your bloody servant. how about you take that stick and privilege out of your asses and start treating him a bit more kindly, huh???

‘henry made me swear not to tell.’ WHAT. WHAT. BITCH, GET THE FUCK OUT.

this is by far the most toxic friendship i’ve ever heard of.

oh wow that kiss was hot. i thought it was just a speculation that they were incestuous with each other, but i-i guess not.

FINALLY it gets interesting. Mr Abernathy spilling some piping hot tea mmm

he literally just said i’d sleep with you if you got drunk enough to let me. oh dear god help me.

oh fuck it got sad. It’s patrick and brad all over again ugh always happens to the best of gays

finally richard my boy starts hating them, as he should. except francis, you’re a dick in that respect. he’s only joking for fuck’s sake, don’t get all butthurt, jesus. sensitive much?

uuuuuu tunts Tunts TUNTS! shit is hitting the fan. henry, henry, henry, our ‘golden boy’. nothing but a crook himself, the motherfucker. i’ve been waiting for this reveal since the beginning of the fucking book. if they gang up on him and kill him, i will never stop laughing.

it’s as if he’s begging to be excluded and hated, i swear. why is he being such a prick? does he love her? is that it? then there are a BILLION other ways to go about it, he doesn’t have to be such a shady bitch!! besides, wasn’t he in cahoots with julian?

‘i was depressed, i thought if i slept here it might make me feel better.’ that’s so precious tho….. funny, but precious. such child-like innocence in this grown ass intoxicated man, i melt.

clever, luring him out of the playground under the false pretext of a drink when he’s had plenty. think like a drunk

the only consistent, recurring and ever-present elements in donna tartt’s books are the hors d’oeuvres.

it’s so cute how charles needs him, i—

girls be like: watching a film, listening to a podcast, talking on the phone, having dinner, figure painting, filing nails, writing an essay and doing their makeup all at the same time

this so called love he feels for camilla is so unfounded and feeble and just … it seems so out of the fucking blue every single time he mentions it, i can’t read this shit. IT’S SO SEE-THROUGH!!

okay WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DID I JUST READ. WHAT. THE ACTUAL. MOTHERFUCKING. FUCK. one second he’s ‘i love her so much’ the next he wants to strangle and rape her?????????????? i have zero goddamn words. i am fucking speechless. i don’t think i have ever been this confused at something since i watched the turning. i don’t think you realise quite how done i am with this fucking book at this point.

i think i do hate henry more than bunny and i’m afraid i’ll like if we were villains better.

richard: [*takes sleeping pills*] also richard: [*surprised he can’t keep up with the film he started watching after taking sleeping pills*]

‘look,’ said francis. ‘let’s just go, if we leave now we can be in montreal by dark. nobody will ever find us.’ vs ‘well, i’m not going,’ said boris serenely. ‘fuck that, i’m running away. do you want to come?’

this henry bitch is the most difficult piece of shit i’ve ever fucking encountered. ‘you mean, it’s something you need to tell me in private?’ oh FUCK OFF AND STEP OUTSIDE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. IT’S ONE THING I ASK OF YOU, YOU TWAT.

huh, i thought he was doing this shit on purpose, leaving the page face down on the table so that julian could see it, i thought it was some sick twisted plan of his.

lmao called it. everybody saw through julian’s façade except richard and the others and i completely understand. in a fashion much like julian’s, i think he knew that, he saw it, but just chose to ignore it because the image he posed and richard himself constructed of him in his mind was much more favourable to what he really was. i mean, fuck, who the fuck says ‘i hope we are all ready to leave the phenomenal world and enter into the sublime’ with their whole chest and mean it?

if you think he’s not coming, why sit in silence staring out the window, ignoring everyone and wasting everybody’s time instead of telling them from the very start this piece of information you have on hand that could save everybody a lot of trouble, time and overthinking? why be all mysterious and enigmatic about it? just tell them from the start, you’re not in a film for fuck’s sake……..

charles, one of the four of them (henry, camilla, julian and himself) might be the one i despise the least, almost like had he not been so brutal towards camilla,,,, but i don’t know if i can trust her, that whole scene seemed … staged somehow. i don’t know. i don’t know

didn’t expect henry would turn on julian too though. first real thing he’s done all book.

agatha

christie

writes

good

mysteries.

richard does seem like the type of fellow who would grow up in a household where his dad would strike his mum for no fucking reason.

okay so did henry punch him for that comment or not? what was all that father beating mother bit for?

#boysweekendinthecountry! 🤪 #partytime! #ignoringourproblems! #woooo!!!

oh my fucking god chARLES!!!

yes, henry, great, brilliant, fucking splendid idea to antagonise the man pointing a gun at you.

MY PAUL SMITH SHIRT!!!!!!!!! AHAHAHASFSHDGFDK

i love how absolutely nobody noticed fucking richard BLEEDING RIGHT NEXT TO THEM

‘expected everyone to stop and look at me. no one did.’ and they never will. that’s your whole friendship summed up in two lines. you don’t matter to them, you never did, you’re absolutely unimportant. just a tool, a pawn, a nobody. sorry you had to get shot to realise that.

‘’he shot me.’ somehow, this remark did not elicit the dramatic response i expected. before i had the chance to elaborate—’ ELABORATE WHAT? ELABORATE WHAT?! THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO SAY!! GOD, this hurts to read. this angers me beyond words, but it also fucking hurts so bad…

nothing, not even getting shot can make richard lose his wit

disGUSTING henry and camilla moment. I HATE THEM

oh shit. did not see that coming. well, glad that’s over.

ugh, time to read how francis got hetero married :\

[*chokes*] DUE TO THE VERY EXCELLENT EXCUSE OF HAVING A GUNSHOT WOUND IN THE STOMACH I DIDN’T TAKE MY FRENCH EXAM YAY!!! god, i fucking love Richard.

the thing is, right, i read that line, ‘i managed to get out of taking my french exams the next week’ about three or four times and somehow, the following line or even the words ‘gunshot wound’ never made it to my eyes! i don’t understand how! but i’m completely happy about that given the fact that i spoiler myself on every single book i read by reading ahead like an idiot..

how much do you want to bet that it was the inn keep who called the ambulance and not those fuckers? because of course henry, dead henry’s more important than slowly dying, almost dead but not quite richard.

despite everything, it sounds like he had a nice summer in brooklyn. good for him. god knows he deserved it, the poor guy.

yeah no, fuck henry’s post-mortem hero narrrative.

lol, at least he got a nice car out of it. this book shows me once again that things happen just the way they should happen.

OH MY FUCKING GOD NO. NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! I CANNOT READ. I DO NOT SEE. I REFUSE TO COMPREHEND THIS PIECE OF INFORMATION.

i will not say a WORD on this, much less his letter. i am hurt, i am wounded, i am grieving, my head is full of thots and i cannot speak. i died on this bed.

ugh [*rolls eyes*] this fucking guy again with his sudden, out of my ass declarations of love towards camilla. JUST GIVE IT UP ALREADYYYYYYYY!!! TELL IT TO SOMEONE WHO CARES!!! (francis) i wouldn’t be surprised if she was married or engaged and just didn’t bother to mention it ‘because he never asked’ or some bullshit excuse like that.

I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY [*deep breath*] I FUCKING HATE HENRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s telling me about all these people and where they ended up after graduation but not only do i not give a single solitary fuck, i actually don’t know who the fuck he’s talking about?? like who the fuck is bram guernesnesnica? rooney wayne? what the fuck do i care what jack jud and frank did?

the only people i do remotely care about are the professors (the saucy french teacher and the boring, senile dude who wouldn’t shut up and who kept referring to richard as ‘jerry’ in his grad school recommendations letter ahahah that is the content i signed up for, not dumb and dumber’s bar or whatever) and the cat charles left at francis’ country house who lives in a ten fucking room apartment in boston.

love how ionic the whole marion storyline turned out to be. marred another corcoran who looked just like bunny and had a daughter who, despite having her and his mother’s name ended up being nicknamed also bunny. i’m sorry, i just—i have to laugh.

[*slams fists on the table*] THE AGENTS??? YOU’RE GONNA TELL ME ABOUT THE BLOODY FBI AGENTS???!!!!!! CAN THIS BOOK PLEASE JUST FUCKING END ALREADY??????!!!!!!!!

a dream. a dream. if it’s a dream of henry i will personally shoot you and make sure i aim a little higher than your abdomen this time.

[*shoots the book*]

oh, you died and suddenly you have a sense of humour?

‘that information is classified’ [*shoots a torpedo at the book*]

‘are you happy?’ / ‘not very.’ vs ‘are you happy here?’ / ‘not particularly.’

okay. so. final thoughts: fuck this book.

good night