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luluwquidprocrow · 4 years ago

Text

and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones

originally posted: august 25th, 2019

word count: 13,060 words

rated: not rated

beatrice/bertrand/lemony

heavy angst, canon compliant, with enough canon divergence that makes the canon compliance worse, epistolary

summary:

and if you don’t love me, let me go.

[a much less than 200 pages break up letter.]

opening notes:

title from the engine driver by the decemberists

By the time you read this

I guess an at least interesting description of us could be like ships passing in the night

I think now is

I think now might be the time for us to

First of all, I have canceled my subscription to the Daily Punctilio, which was just a good move on my part to begin with, and second of all, I couldn’t believe all that anyway, but third of all, do you know, Lemony

You’ll think me such a damn hypocrite, won’t you.

Why now? Why would I

Why would you do this now?

My Heart and I

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colours could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend ;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.

How tired we feel, my heart and I !

We seem of no use in the world ;

Our fancies hang grey and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently ;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet :

What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;

I, smiling at him, shook my head :

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.

Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out :

Disdain them, break them, throw them by

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, — well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who knew what she was talking about

My Dearest Darling,

You call me a lot of things but, to be perfectly frank (not Ernest), Lemony, I think I’ve always liked that one the least. There was that summer where, among other things, Bertrand was trying to come up with nicknames for us in that charming way of his, and he came up with a real mess of awful nicknames and then I came up with the list we could Never Repeat In Public (capitals necessary) and then you said something very sweet to both of us, and anyway, we know what happened there, but the point of this is that you held us close and said, very seriously, that you would never ever ever ever ever (for the span of what I’d figure would be maybe two pages, short but evenly-spaced), no matter what happened, call Bertrand ‘Bert’ and that was damn good of you because Bertrand is not a Bert and never will be. We were right to veto Bertie, as well. He is a Bertrand, through and through. The other point was that you wound up calling us nicknames too but dearest darling was maybe the worst of all of them. Bea was my favorite. I liked the way you said it and I liked the way it sounded and I felt noble perfect unstoppable invincible worried fragile good when you said it. And that was good.

Speaking of, right now, Bertrand is with Kit, and don’t worry, they’re not talking about you (I know how you worry). They’re talking about boats and maps and cooking spices and Widdershins will probably come by later to give them both his version of A Stern Talking To (capitals debatable) about open water expeditions, which will probably be something like, ‘Fire this harpoon at anything suspicious! Aye! Shoot first and ask questions later! Aye!’ and it’s a real miracle that man doesn’t have a whole boatload of albatrosses hanging around somewhere. (Unless he does, and I just haven’t seen it.)

Bertrand and I—well, we’ve kept the house up. Even though he has that thing for natural light, you know what I mean. But we’ve managed to decorate it nicely. I got the Gothic Furniture (capitals required), he got his large windows, there is a last unopened root beer bottle in the fridge because every time we look at it both of us think about how you said it’s impolite to take the last one, and I thought, maybe I’d save it for when you came back but I don’t

The last thing I want is to

Bertrand and I, we’re going out to dinner tonight, because we’re still not all that comfortable with the kitchen yet. I mean, why did we get such a fancy kitchen? I’m sure one of these days I’ll come around to it and it’ll be fine but right now it’s, it seems a hassle, I guess. So we’re going out and I’ve already decided that I’m going to order this truly egregious amount of pasta and no one will stop me!

We don’t really have any plans for tomorrow. As it stands right now. We’ve both been sort of taking things as they come lately. Bertrand, Bertrand’s been very busy. Both of us have been busy, but I think he’s been trying to keep his mind occupied. A lot of us have. Even Hector looks more concerned than he usually does. I saw him the other day—not here, in town—and I didn’t think it was possible for Hector to look that harried. So much has been happening lately, I feel like even I haven’t had time to catch my breath, even in this part of the city. It’s like everything’s been going a mile a minute, taking me with it, and the moments where it stops, the moments where I have the time to think, are unbearably, agonizingly slow. But most of my life has been like that, you know.

And I know, I know you are too. Busy. And concerned.

I know.

When you

Did you

The last performance of our play was three days ago. Since the Daily Punctilio doesn’t have a theater section anymore, Bertrand and I haven’t been reading any rave reviews but we were rereading but, what can you do. Geraldine’s moved on to some other column now too, something about, I don’t even know, tax evasion? Shoes? I can never understand a single thing she writes. Even that ‘Secret Organizations You Should Know About’ thing didn’t even pan out, can you believe that? All she did was write about Esmé! All that trouble for

It looks like it’ll be the last play for a while. I know they wanted us to go on longer, but, well, that’s how it has to be. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without a script to lug around, but I’ll probably memorize something for kicks. Gilda Farrell’s lines, maybe, that’d be fun.

But it’d be better if you

This is really the first time I’ve had one of those unbearably slow moments in a while, and of course the first thing I think of is you. You and Bertrand have always filled those gaps for me, but now it’s different. It’s just

I saw Jacques the other day and he

Ramona’s the only one who hasn’t been so

I want to see you so much, Lemony. With everything I have, I want you with me, and I keep hoping that if I close my eyes, when I open them again, there you’ll be, alive and well and next to me and real. Or I’ll walk away from my desk and this letter and when I look back it’ll all have been a bad dream, the worst nightmare I keep stopping and hoping and when you’re not there and I’m still here I

I don’t know how to do this. I can’t

I didn’t want to do it like this.

I don’t want you to I’m, burying the lede, or doing any of this on purpose or anything, because by now you’ve definitely noticed how long this is (although, personally, I’m only at the beginning, but I have a feeling this is going to get long—I know I’ve said I could run laps around the city in the time it takes you to finish a single metaphor but between the two of us we both know I could go on for much longer and will), and you have a vague idea, or a concrete idea, or an idea you don’t want to think about, of where I’m going to go with this. If it was something simple it wouldn’t be like this. If I was just, telling you the news, I wouldn’t need so much time, and I need so much of it. I’m setting the stage trying to making sure I wanted to I can’t just

I am a weak woman, Lemony Snicket. And that is a complete lie, you and I know, but I am a weak woman and I don’t want to be but my hands are shaking.

You and I. You and I know so many things.

So why should we

We both know how to make Ramona laugh, and the right amount of sugar for Olivia’s tea, and where Jacques will be on Tuesdays even though he pretends he doesn’t keep a regular schedule, and where Monty has his keys stashed in his garden, and everything possible about Bertrand, including what book he’s reading right now even though you haven’t been home in two months (it’s still that cat book because he says he wants to see the look on your face when he reads it out loud after dinner) (it’s still that cat book), and what kind of records Kit wants for her birthday even though she never has the time to play them, and even what Esmé is going to eat tomorrow because would you believe that herring is still in, to her continued consternation. She can talk all she wants about how good herring is but I still see that look on her face when she eats it! Every meal, Lemony! I’m giggling as we speak and I wish you could see her because it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE

Maybe those things are superficial, but they’re things we know about people, about ourselves, and that counts, doesn’t it? And—and I know what you look like when you wake up and I know what you look like when you’re fixing your typewriter and I have to help and I know what you look like when you think I’m not looking at you, and there was a time where that meant you didn’t look like everyone you knew had just died. You know what I look like at my worst, the worst I ever let you see. You knew it anyway. You It was enough.

And Bertrand. I know I’ve said it before but, you and I were so lucky. Lots of good things came from of this, right? The three of us, you and me and Bertrand. Our apartment and that wallpaper we took down in Bertrand’s when he moved out of his, with those horrendous yellow stripes. The cat we pretended to have and the elaborate medical history we made for it so we’d all have an excuse to go home early. (That poor cat, though. I don’t think it would’ve been possible for it to really survive like that. We should be better to our imaginary pets next time in the future.) Watching Bertrand dance to my records, which was terrible because we hadn’t taught him to dance yet. Trying out those new recipes. Keeping the windows open in the summer. The diner down the street, the ice cream shop on the corner, that night it rained and we all stayed outside and got soaking wet because why not? Bertrand making that excessive amount of soup the next day. You telling us we were the only things that mattered. Bertrand would push your hair out of your face when you were sleeping and I wanted to watch that for the rest of my life. I wanted it to be the last thing I ever saw.

Those moments, every moment. Reading in the dark, losing my glasses, you stopped dead the first time we were out with Bertrand and he was under a streetlamp and you both looked so beautiful and you kissed him for the first time and you didn’t even remember to be nervous.

And those million citations Jacques didn’t give us for public indecency during that spring he was disguised as a police officer. (He was definitely kidding when he brought it up. There was no way he could’ve seen us.)

It makes me so happy, to think about all that. I love you and Bertrand so much. I

Oh Lemony. I don’t think I can do any of this.

-------

In other better happier general news, Gustav let Bertrand and me see the pictures from the wedding, and then he archived them, because we agreed that was for the best, and Bertrand figured you’d probably say the same. I look absolutely stunning, and Bertrand looks incredibly handsome even though he finally admitted he agrees with you, that hat was not his style, and you, Lemony, in that white suit that matched Bertrand’s with those peach-colored flowers because peach is a better color than I ever gave it credit for and it looked so good in the spring because it was the color the wall in the living room turned when the afternoon sun hit, you look

It was such a beautiful day. Still spring, and right after Bertrand’s birthday. Us, Kit, Jacques, Ramona, Olivia, Dewey, Hector. Jerome was invited—or he was supposed to be, who knows what happened there. We barely saw Gustav the whole time too, since he kept climbing up into trees for better angles. The smallest place we could find that would hold all of us and be so out of the way. The cake Kit made, against everyone’s expectations. Ramona cried, because of course she did. All those flowers, no one could move the whole time for walking into at least six bees, but no one minded. So much love. It was palpable, and my whole body was alive with it, with such a soft warmth I could barely breathe. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, not while dancing or singing or kicking my shoes off because such mortal trappings cannot contain me, or when you and Bertrand danced and you cried, or when a crow flew overhead and we all stopped, just for a single second, before every one of us decided not to care. For a few hours one glorious afternoon.

You look happier than I’ve ever seen you before and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you like that again or forever and I’m sorry, I was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this

-------

I’ve taken a few deep breaths and I’m ready to

Oh who am I KIDDING

Lemony I love you so much and I need you so much my heart is going to break with it

justice does not need eyes to see,

but truth built himself eyes

in the porcelain patterns of his world

and let them do the talking

in the skies he

so kindly

let them see,

with the eyes he gave them,

one after another

after another

i was something else

but i lived so close beside

that they could not accuse me

of being blind

but i could’ve seen everything

if i could see with every eye,

one after another

after another

after another,

every eye

a certainty,

every eye

the truth,

every eye

mine alone.

You told me when we were younger that I should give rhyming verse a try and, well, Lemony, not everything you said was good advice.

-------

I do, though. I love you a great deal. I think it confuses people. Besides the fact that some of them never understood our relationship with Bertrand (cowards), I get the impression some of our associates don’t know why I love you. Which is just stupid of them, and I don’t owe them anything, none of them are going to read this. It’s not their business why I love you, it’s ours. And I love you because

How can you explain why you love someone? Someone can say ‘they make me laugh’ as much as they want and sure it’s true but is that really why? Can you ever really say why? Isn’t it enough to love somebody, with everything you have? To say, that’s the one I want, for the rest of my life? Who could I possibly need to defend myself to?

I love you because I love you, because I look at you and think I love you, because I inhale and exhale that I love you, because every part of me only feels right with you.

I love you because you embarrassed me but I thought you were kind. I love you because I didn’t ever have to explain anything. I love you because you always came back to me. I love you because you made me happy. I love you because you didn’t let anything stop you from loving me. I love you because you loved me. I love you because when you took my hand I thought I could do anything with that love.

I love you because you were mine. I love you because you looked at me. And I love you because it was more than that, it always was.

I love you because of the records you played. I love you because of the time we taught Bertrand to make root beer floats. I love you because you’d rehearse our lines with us even though you can’t act. I love you because of the way you would stand in the kitchen and wonder what you should make for dinner. I love you because you said you’d plant strawberry bushes in the backyard. I love you because you could never stand Geraldine Julienne. I love you because we would all sit around the table in my apartment and critique the newspaper articles together. I love you because you’d never take the train. I love you because Bertrand and I found every shortcut in the city for you. I love you because you and Bertrand would knit me the ugliest sweaters on purpose. I love you because you would take care of the bats for me and you were terrible at it.

I love you because you were wonderful where it counted. I love you because we’d stay up late and watch movies. I love you because you would hold Bertrand like it was the most important thing in the world. I love you because you would furrow your brow when you read something you didn’t like. I love you because you’d take me to the beach when it was cold. I love you because we went on picnics in the summer. I love you because when I walked into our apartment and then when I walked into our house it always felt like home. I love you because we made up that cat. I love you because you’d sing with me. I love you because Bertrand would take us bird-watching and name the birds with us. I love you because you bought me flowers.

I love you because you told me what happened. I love you because we went back there with you. I love you because I went into the lighthouse. I love you because I wasn’t going to not go. I love you because no one else would’ve gone. I love you because we let you walk out the door there and I knew you would come back.

I love you because we used to make out in the back of the movie theater and we’d take turns with Bertrand and then try to piece together what even happened in the movie when we got home. I love you because you used to sit in dark rooms with me and pretend we were ghosts and scare the other volunteers. I love you because we could just read for hours and not say a word. I love you because you let me cry in the bathroom. I love you because you would make up songs on the accordion when I was upset. I love you because I would whistle along when you did songs I knew. I love you because you would go out of your way to buy crackers. I love you because you would say things like “when we first met, you were pretty, and I was lonely” and you let me laugh. I love you because you would write me notes during class. I love you because you looked the same way I did the first time we saw Bertrand—shocked, and then a little impressed, and then irritated, because who did he think he was? I love you because who did any of us think we were, really. I love you because we grew to not care. I love you because we became people I was proud of.

I love you because you would feed that cat in the back alley on your way home and I would watch you from the window. I love you because that cat followed us to our house and then we had a real live legitimate cat until someone across the street put out better cat food. I love you because of the way you would read out loud, because you couldn’t act but when you read it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. I love you because the one thing you did that was better than Bertrand was make tea. I love you because you taught me all your cookie recipes. I love you because we got you to sleep in the middle so we could protect you. I love you because they couldn’t take that away from me.

I love you because I’m here in an otherwise empty house, some boxes still unpacked, letting the dust settle, pouring my heart out when I don’t want to, because I do love you with everything I have, every part of me, every bone and every sigh and every drop of blood, and that’s the end of that. That’s all there is, I love you. That’s what it comes down to, I love you. That’s the only thing I want to say, I love you.

I do, I do love you. Lemony, please believe me.

-------

I know Bertrand has his own thoughts, his own opinions. He doesn’t want to admit that he does, but he gets this, look, on his face. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s lost something special but it was there a moment ago, wasn’t it. He thinks I haven’t noticed. After all this time, he thinks he’s not supposed to be here, and you it hurts, is all.

And as much as Bertrand is a part of us, indelibly, forever, just as you are, both of you so a part of me that I ache with it, this letter is between you and me. Not because it was the two of us first. But because you know, for as much as I don’t want to, I’ll say the things Bertrand won’t.

That’s how this has to be.

-------

So.

Olaf’s started talking to me again, which I didn’t think would happen in a million years. Although maybe I shouldn’t call it talking? More like, he sort of shows up if he knows I’m at headquarters (which is far and few between anyway so, really, what the hell?) and lounges in doorways with these big smiles and says these dramatic things at me instead of to me, which he can’t possibly expect me to believe. How stupid does he think I am? Because I’m not. He keeps going, hey Beatrice, have you read the Daily Punctilio? And I don’t say anything to him, even though yes, I’ve read the Daily Punctilio, dammit.

You and I both know what’s in the Daily Punctilio, and for a while I thought, maybe you were writing those articles yourself, part of another fragmentary plot, and that you’d tell me about it later, and you’d explain it to me, even though I wouldn’t need it to be explained, not really. But you didn’t. Not that you didn’t explain, you just, you just didn’t tell me anything. And you were gone and I couldn’t even see you anyway and that was what really made it hard? It wasn’t like I doubted you. I didn’t. I didn’t doubt you. I knew you wouldn’t do any of those things.

But everyone looked at me and they looked so damn pitying, like, oh it happens to the best of us, only he’s not the best of us. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, well you know what he’s like, as if nothing had ever happened? As if we hadn’t grown up together? As if we wouldn’t have followed you to the ends of the earth because we believed in you? It’s not everyone, but it’s enough. Like some of them don’t owe you their lives.

Bertrand says that people deal with things in different ways, and saying those things about you is probably just another way they’re dealing with everything. Don’t you think it’s harder, it’s gotten harder, as we’ve gotten older? But they don’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. They don’t have to vilify you to make themselves feel better. They don’t have to look me in the eye like that, like I’m some, some poor miserable thing, or like I have to be protected, or like I don’t know what I’m doing, or like they can’t even trust me.

But what does that make me?

And Olaf would grin at me and I would hold my head high and look him back and spit in his face. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. It had only been a month. How long is a month, in the grand scheme of things? What does a month matter, against the beginning of a lifetime? And when a month became two, what did that matter?

-------

I wouldn’t say that Hector and I were ever particularly close, but I’ve actually seen a lot of him lately. We meet up for tea because he keeps saying there’s something he wants to talk to me about but mostly he sits there and looks at his tea and I pretend I’m not super uncomfortable. And then he insists on paying the check, in exact change.

When I see Hector, I think about Haruki. I know how close they were. And Haruki respected you so much, more than anyone else. As in, he respected you more than he respected any of our other friends, but also more than maybe anyone else respected you, because that was how Haruki was. Loyal, the best of the best, and so fierce about it. I wanted him there at our wedding.

Haruki was really the first person we lost, I guess. And I hate how we’re never going to know how it happened, because they say no one else was there, and the one person we do know was there, he’s never going to say a damn thing about it, and we all know that for sure. But I remember everyone gathering around to write Haruki’s obituary and how little we had to say. Not because we didn’t know him. But because, what were we going to say? What did we have left to say, who did Haruki have left, besides us? And what were we?

Hector looks at me and I don’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I’m terrified he’s going to tell me I should’ve known better too because then I won’t be able to stand it. But he just looks at me and I try not to cry and I’m trying not to cry now because he’s feeling it too, this awful business of feeling like things are starting to break. Sometimes I feel Hector is going to disappear, too.

--------

I guess the question I started to think was, how long was I going to wait. Bertrand and I had waited for longer, and then there were times where we never waited, and hadn’t we reached a point where we weren’t supposed to, anymore? But then, when you’re married, aren’t you supposed to do whatever you have to?

But doesn’t it go both ways? One half can do their part but doesn’t the other half have to do something too and how much is it before you’re asking too much but how long is it before you’re not doing enough and when you’re married aren’t you supposed to know the answers to all the questions, the right and the wrong ones, you’re not supposed to care and you’re supposed to be there and it’s all is supposed to be okay, and

We never did do anything traditionally, though, did we?

-------

I saved the article. I didn’t save all of them, but I saved this one.

-------

UNIDENTIFIED BODY IDENTIFIED

The unidentified body recently pulled from the downtown river has been identified as local ex-theater critic and renowned person of interest, Lemony Snicket, who was last seen surveying the river and saying, “How deep do you think it really is?”

“For the record,” said the local police, who preferred to remain nameless and sent in their response by postcard from three towns over, “it was three feet.”

Mr. Snicket was identified by a source who was also unidentified, but proved their credentials by singing a variety of showtunes for the newspaper staff, to great applause.

“Yes, I suppose that’s him,” said the source, when asked to identify the photo of the river, which was presented to them while they were drinking a glass of water, because they were parched after the showtunes. When the glass of water spilled on the photograph, the source went on to say, “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

The body in question disappeared as soon as it was found, but the police have no reason to suspect foul play, as no livestock was found at the scene, the morgue, or the local bakery, and neither does our source.

“Can I leave now?” asked the source. “I need to go pick up my glasses.”

Mr. Snicket has recently been the suspect in a number of crimes, including arson, lockpicking, theft, and jaywalking without a license. He has been described as “that’s not what I would call a grey suit, it leaned closer to charcoal.” There is no planned funeral service at this time.

-------

Bertrand and I laughed a lot, because it was the most outrageous article we’d ever read, and we kept talking about what sort of bakery would even allow livestock inside, and of course we knew it was about you, but of course it wasn’t you, because we didn’t know where you were but we knew you were alive. You were alive, so no matter what we read or what anyone told us, no matter who wanted to believe what, we knew the truth.

And, again, Lemony, it wasn’t that I needed you to explain. It was that I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to let me in on it. I wanted you to call or come by and tell us, your husband and your wife, hey no big deal but I’m gonna fake my death for the foreseeable future, is that okay? And instead I have to find out from Olaf waving it in my face? I have to find out from some absurd article I shouldn’t have even looked twice at? I have to find out from people I thought were my friends telling me I should have known better?

I sure don’t need to tell you, but, we just got married, Lemony! And we had a house and a life and plans and no matter what happened, no matter what else we had to do, because there was no way we were ever going to give this up and we knew that, we were going to stay together, we were going to do this, what we promised, not to other people but to ourselves, and each other, and

Sometimes I want to think that you planned it like that, that you sat down and thought to yourself about the best worst way to do it and you thought, leaving us alone like this and faking your death and not saying a single word was the greatest way to break our hearts, especially after marrying us, that would hurt the most, you wanted to do it so you did it and you got away from us for good like you always wanted because you were never going to stay and you knew it, because then I can hate you like I’m supposed to and stop thinking of the way you smile at me

I hate that you aren’t a cruel person, I hate that you didn’t do it on purpose, I hate that the real true human tradition is that people are human and nothing else

How am I supposed to do this?

a bird up in her chamber

eats love for breakfast lunch and dinner

and steadily gets thinner

sings songs she won’t forget,

in the darkness by the lamps

says the shapes of lonely words

said by lonely people

in lonely rooms

to feel better about

being

what is a life with this alone

what is a life

like this?

“when we grab you by the ankle, where your life is ours to take

you’ll soon be doing wicked things, they’ll keep you long awake

when your whole life is a secret then you’ll be a volunteer

and you’ll scream a long time later, for

the world was never quiet here.”

-------

Bertrand has been making lists. You know his tendency to organize, but the funny thing is he just keeps leaving them places. I’m sitting on like, three of them.

To Do

-Check maps

-Apologize to D

-Extra key

-Secure boat

-Study family trees

To Buy

-Thick, sturdy rope

-Do they make portable record players?

-Paintbrushes (for then and now, so get extra)

-White curtains? Will they match? Check ‘To Think’

-Extra wires, no candles!

To Think

-Ask Kit about Bernadette

-Examine garden for hiding spots

-Turtles or foxes?

-What if it turns out to be true?

-Or birds??

Definitely not birds.

-------

You know, I haven’t seen Jerome in a while. Maybe it’s also been two months, I’m not sure. I feel like, even before the wedding, we weren’t seeing much of him—although it wasn’t like Jacques paraded him around or anything in the first place—but since then, I don’t think Jacques has even talked about him.

This means Jacques’s Tuesdays are open now, although you’d never know it. He still only shows up when he wants to. And if he doesn’t want to, then you have as much luck finding him as finding a grammar rule Jo doesn’t know. It must run in the family. I hate to

I had Kit get ahold of him for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to say to Kit anymore, which is unsettling, but Kit acts like she always does. She comes over and makes herself at home and talks to both of us like this is average everyday Kit business for her. I don’t know if I admire her tenacity or if it’s going to be something else I can’t stand down the line. I don’t know yet. She hugged me when she left, though. That’s just how Kit is. And I don’t really want to lose that.

I wasn’t sure if Kit would know, the thing I wanted to ask Jacques. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she did, but when I saw her I thought, maybe she didn’t know. She didn’t talk about you at all. And it wasn’t the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I’m Being Purposefully Vague For Reasons, Now Deal With It’ sort of silence, it was the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I Refuse to Admit I Don’t Know This Piece of Information, So I’m Going to Rearrange Your Bookshelves’ sort of silence. Still don’t know where she put T.S. Eliot. I think she took it with her.

Jacques didn’t want to talk to me. He’s too polite to say it, but I could tell. He kept making excuses, and by the time we finally got him to come here, he was uncomfortable and I was on edge. He came right out and said he couldn’t stay long. He knew why I wanted to talk to him and he told me straightforward that he couldn’t tell me.

I’m not proud of what I said to him.

-------

If it was the last day, but it probably was but Lemony, I don’t I sure didn’t know.

I will remember every second until the day I die.

We waited until after the wedding to move into the house, especially because the only honeymoon we wanted was for the three of us to be there together, alone, for a little while. It was on the outskirts of the city, away from everything else, and we barely told anyone. We didn’t even tell everyone from the wedding.

I watched the sunrise, the soft shadows sliding along the sheets on the bed, catching on the suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked all the way, you and Bertrand warm beside me, and I didn’t want to get up. We put the best bed in the whole world in our room, and rightly so. High bed posts but no canopy because Bertrand was worried about dust. Crisp white sheets and I was so excited to look when we finally got up and see the wrinkles mashed down in them from where we slept because that meant it was ours for real. That rich wine comforter that it was too hot to use the first night so we still had it folded up at the foot of the bed, but you had this look in your eyes when we spread it out like you couldn’t wait for winter and when we’d be squished up against each other underneath it for warmth.

That morning, I just wanted to lay there and savor it. It wasn’t like we’d never been in the same bed before, or that we even needed to be married, but! To know I could hold it in my hands, that’s what it was.

And then Bertrand rolled over and got an elbow into my side somehow and you mumbled something about Wedding Pancakes (capitals implied) and then we had to eat breakfast.

I checked. The wrinkles were all there.

-------

Bertrand and I.

We haven’t

We’ve been

We’ve been angry at each other.

And you know Bertrand, he doesn’t get angry, really, he gets, more disappointed than anything, but he’s. He’s been angry. At me. I know.

I get scared, because I don’t know what to do, so I, I can’t hold a conversation without yelling at somebody, and it’s usually Bertrand, and I hate yelling at him and sometimes he starts to yell back.

We’re not. Okay. Right now.

We weren’t supposed to do this without you and I don’t want to find out that we can’t, Lemony. And I know we can but I know it’s also not a matter of doing it with or without you, because that’s awful, I just keep wondering what if you were what held us all together and if you’re not here how are Bertrand and I supposed to go on like this. Saying the wrong things, avoiding each other, not coming home. I guess that’s how we’re ‘dealing’ with it but that’s sure some sick way to do it.

I don’t want to lose anybody and fighting for them means that I want to keep screaming until everything stops.

-------

Jacques said you’d be back soon enough.

I told him I needed to know how soon was soon.

He said soon enough.

I said that wasn’t enough.

I never though of Jacques as one to yell. And he didn’t really yell, he mostly raised his voice, like I couldn’t hear him. I mean I was definitely talking over him but it was because I could hear him and I didn’t want to.

No one can tell me anything I don’t know. I know they think I haven’t felt the same worries as everyone else but that’s because I never wanted them to think that I did. And I did too good a job, apparently. I know we live hard lives, Jacques. I know it requires sacrifices, Jacques. I know there’s no guarantee, Jacques. I know there’s things you have to give up. I know you can’t be childish or selfish in this business. I know we knew what would happen. I know sometimes no matter how hard you try, you’re just going to fail.

He told me to wait for you.

-------

After breakfast, we organized the library, because we still had so many things in boxes but we agreed we had to get that done. We put everything in, every repeat copy and every notebook because we actually had room for everything instead of trying to cram it all into smaller bookshelves. The library was the biggest room in the house and had that beautiful windowseat. (It still does. We’re still in this house, after all, but this moment, this day, just isn’t right now.) I’ll admit I spent more time lounging on it than I did organizing books, but, you sat on that windowseat with me, you knew how comfortable it was. I loved those windows and how bright the sun was (really.) and how good I knew it was going to look when it was raining. And you agreed, and Bertrand rolled his eyes at us, and I told him, he got his natural light, what more did he want?

For two people to stop lazing around and figure out if we were going in alphabetical order or by genre or by which ones most recently made us cry over lunch, Bertrand said.

It was alphabetical, of course.

We forgot about lunch, because we put the record player in the library until we could find another place for it and started playing our favorites. Bertrand could dance by then, obviously, we wouldn’t have married him if he couldn’t. We were very good at dancing together, after practicing for so long. No one was ever going to do a better three-way tango and we all knew it.

We picked through the fridge and some of the wedding gifts, once we got hungry and tired of dancing. We found out Jerome somehow still sent us at least thirty coasters, and learned that he apparently wildly overestimates our social life, because there was no way we were going to be inviting thirty people at a time over anymore, or at least, not for a while. You and Bertrand stacked them in the dining room in a cabinet, and those you organized by color. Then we stood at the window there and looked out into the garden (the best view of it was from the dining room) and talked about the flowers we were going to plant, and how Ramona was going to send us (express) a clipping from one of the rosebushes in her garden, the ones we’d look at during her family’s masked balls.

We went to the corner store down the street and you and Bertrand pretended to fuss over tomatoes while I was looking at loaves of bread and when I turned around you were buying flowers for me, red and bright and beautiful. We put them in the kitchen while we all made dinner (salmon, with cherry tomatoes). Somehow I found the time to make sorbet for dessert and it was only then we realized how late it was and we laughed a lot that day and laughed a lot then because we didn’t need to care about things like that. Our house was barely put together and we tried to find a way to use every single coaster from Jerome and we hadn’t had words with the city about the electricity yet because there was so much we’d had to do beforehand that we had to use candles. We all had matches, and we weren’t naive enough to think we wouldn’t have them.

I can’t tell you how powerful I felt, lighting those candles, because I know you and Bertrand felt it too. This was our doing and ours alone. This space was ours. We looked at each other over the candles, the shadows on our faces, and we’d never looked clearer.

We could’ve lived forever, in that moment.

-------

I called your brother a coward and I told him that whatever happened to Jerome now that he wouldn’t protect him was his fault and his alone and if he could live with himself that’s fine but I couldn’t if I didn’t try to do this and if he didn’t tell me where you were I was going to kill him where he stood and he shouldn’t even think for one second that I wasn’t capable of doing what had to be done and if that meant I had to kill for what I wanted then I would.

-------

You kissed us in the morning. You smiled. You walked out the door and then came back because you forgot your hat and Bertrand and I were still laughing even as the door shut behind you.

And then you were gone.

-------

Kit came by again, after.

We sat in that silence.

She told me that it was the one thing they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t known, until I asked Jacques. We don’t have anywhere else to go, she said, in a moment of unprecedented candidness. So we always come back.

“I underestimated him,” she said.

I told her she could keep The Wasteland, since it was practically hers because it had been yours. Kit smiled. She didn’t say much else.

-------

Bertrand and I aren’t the only ones losing someone here and I forgot that.

Jacques and I looked at each other for a long time. I tried to apologize and he kept shaking his head. He told me where you were. He told me he didn’t know when you’d be back—or if you would at all. He told me he was the one writing the articles in the Daily Punctilio. He turned away from me. Then he gave me his handkerchief, and put his hand on mine, and got up and left.

-------

What it feels like, Lemony, is like you

It feels like you picked

It feels like we didn’t matter and

And it’s not like we could ever choose or have one or the other I know I know I know but

We’re never going to be without it but I thought that

WE GOT MARRIED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, LEMONY SNICKET

You picked an idea of nobility that you spent the past ten years struggling with and denouncing and promising you’d never

It wasn’t like we ever set out to save you anyway I

At the end of the day, that’s it. You picked the organization over us. And I didn’t think we were going to have to draw lines like that. At least not now. At least not right now. Because that means I have to make a decision. Because it means I can’t only think about me. Because it means I can’t keep waiting. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.

-------

I found out the other day.

I had a feeling, though. You just, you either have the feeling or you don’t, right? And I did. And I keep thinking about what your reaction would be. What you’d say. I keep thinking about your eyes, bluer than blue. I keep thinking about the world we said we were going to make when we were kids, the people we said we’d be. We were tiny and young and idealistic and you’re really only that way once in your whole life and when you’re not anymore, you can’t go back.

-------

We can’t go on like this.

stripped off my dress like a skin,

peeled

so you could see everything

not only then,

but always.

didn’t know i was doing it,

guess i never really ran out of clothes.

you took off you shirt

and I was jealous.

you only needed to do it once and there you were.

I thought.

but now I keep finding shirts

in the places where I found you

and I can’t

find anything

that was mine

to put back on

I really can’t do anything

-------

Enclosed you’ll find the ring. I know it’s not just the ring I married you with, but the ring I married Bertrand with, but whenever we look at it we think of you and I’m the one who has to wear it all the time and I can’t.

But I don’t want to give it back because what if it’s the only thing I get to keep of you? But it wasn’t ever mine anyway, or yours, and who knows, maybe Ramona will marry Olivia with it someday, and maybe you’ll be there, only you wouldn’t be if you got the ring back, you’d never show your face again.

And that’s not what I want, I don’t want you out of my life, Lemony, but if I give it back then maybe I do. Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I never want to see you again like this.

-------

Okay, I have to ask. I have to, because Jacques kept his mouth shut about this.

The last time you saw us. Not the day, but the morning, walking out the front door. Did you know you weren’t coming back? You just left like you always did, to go to the newspaper, before Bertrand and I went to the theater, and as far as leaving someone for good goes that’s so

Did you meet up with Jacques, or Hector, or Jo, or even Kit, and did they tell you? Did headquarters address you personally? Did you take an assignment from someone else? Did someone corner you and were you trying to protect us? Was that the only way you could do it, going into hiding and faking your death? Who else was involved, besides Jacques? How long was it going to go on for? Did they expect you to do it by yourself? Did you have a plan, did any of them have a plan? What fragmentary plot was it even a part of? Did you know you weren’t coming back? Could you even come back? Did it even happen right away? Did it start out as some mediocre assignment you were going to tell us about later and then what happened so that I was reading the paper and there you were being accused of things I knew you’d never do? Why didn’t they ask me? Why didn’t they ask Bertrand? Why didn’t they ask us? You knew we’d do it together, we swore we’d do it together, why didn’t you tell us? What made it so that you couldn’t?

Or did you really decide for yourself that that was it?

I don’t want to believe that. I don’t, Lemony. I want to believe that it was one thing and then another but do you know why I can’t, why I keep asking? Do you understand why I need to know the truth? Why I need to be able to put it together? Why waiting and trusting isn’t enough anymore?

--------

No one could ever extinguish my love, Lemony, no one, nothing, not a single solitary thing ever, nothing could do it, but my trust is a different matter. Loving someone and trusting someone are two different things and I know you know that as much as I do. You. Knew. All. Of. This.

-------

You know. If it had ended at the article. I might’ve been okay with it. I might have. Not making any promises, because we both know better than that. But I might’ve. I could’ve.

It didn’t end with the article.

Olivia had a short-lived assignment working the telegrams recently. She gave Ramona a very specific telegram. Olivia was honestly surprised it had come through at all. That something like that would be sent over such an insecure line. And of course she showed Ramona. They didn’t show it to anyone else. Which was lucky, because you know Olivia. She wanted to do whatever she could.

Ramona sent it to me. Right away. I got it yesterday. She said she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She said she was sorry. She’s the only one who didn’t sound patronizing about it.

J.S.,

AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED STOP GOING ON FULL STOP

M.K.

I never liked Monty Kensicle all that much as a name either.

-------

Lemony I can’t help but think that you’re sick of me, sick with me

It wasn’t like I ever—like I did it to be similar, I would NEVER, because both of us had our reasons for why we did what we did, you on that train, me and Bertrand at the opera. We knew what we were doing. Did we regret it? Enough for it to hurt, on the wrong days. Not enough for it to matter, in the long run. But enough for it to stop me every once in a while, in the way I know it stopped you.

But, but did you think, you couldn’t love someone who

Which would be, extraordinarily hypocritical of you, not to mention

I know you still think about it and I know how much it

I paid my price for what I did, Lemony, and so did you, and I didn’t

Is that how it works? Is that what happens? Is this what else I have to give up, for some shred of nobility, is my life going to be one mistake after another because I followed an order and I though they were right enough? Not even right, right enough, how stupid—is everything that happens to me going to be because of that? Am I losing you because it’s what I deserve?

Don’t I deserve good things? Don’t I still deserve happiness, and stability, and love, and a family, and all those things I worked so hard for? Because nobility wasn’t the end of it for me, this was what we wanted, something better, something for us, something we deserved, and this can’t be it, this can’t be the only thing we get for all of that, there has to be something else! And if I lose everyone close to me because of this organization Lemony I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind like this

--------

I think of you out there, alone, and probably cold because you never bring a damn jacket with you anywhere. It’s summer but I’m imagining you as being cold, but I think that’s just because it’s sort of what you do when anyone thinks of someone as being anywhere alone.

Or, I’m just—I’m thinking of you out there, alone, for sure. I’m doing that. I’m thinking. About you. Alone.

I’m

thinking.

I think of you. Out there. Letting Jacques know, letting Olivia know, because you had to know who was working the telegram, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent it, I think of you going out of your way to tell your brother and not me and Bertrand and maybe you thought they’d tell me anyway but I had to pull teeth to get it from Jacques and if it had been anyone else! No one but Olivia would have said! You got lucky! But not enough! Because you still didn’t tell us! You went out of your way to not!! You! I think of you! Doing that instead of having the nerve! The decency! To tell us first! You!

How could you

-------

I think of you, out there—hiding in the middle of nowhere with only the occasional newspaper for company, which, let me tell you, Lemony, is a very frustrating existence. You know what? I keep wanting to hope that you are dead because somehow that would make this easier, I can be angry at a dead man. But I can be angry at anyone, can’t I. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. I can be angry.

I want to hope that you never sleep comfortably again. I want to hope that every sea is too uneven and every desert is too hot and every mountain is too cold and everywhere you go it’s too much. I want to hope that you try and come back and see how good and happy Bertrand and I are without you and you have to realize, you really did mess up. I want to hope that your boat goes down in the middle of the ocean and I know for sure! I want to think that you’ll be so miserable without us and it’ll never have been worth it!!

You’re out there, without us. Without me.

I hope it was worth it.

-------

What am I going to do?

I’m not picking. It’s not—I’m not capable of that, picking between you two, and I know you both had this ridiculous fear that I was going to, but I wasn’t, and I’m still not. I am selfish and clingy and I know what I want and I love what I have, and I love both of you and Bertrand loves both of us and I was ready to stake my life on the fact that you loved both of us too.

And I hate that I have to say it! Because I do! Apparently I do have to, Lemony! If it comes down to, who would I rather do this with, who would I raise a family with, who would I trust more than anything, and you made me make this choice, I’m sorry it can’t be the man who ran away from me! And part of me keeps thinking I’m not even me for saying that, I’m not, I’m not the Beatrice that was going to tear a room apart with her bare hands to get what she wanted, who would scale walls and climb buildings and shoot a gun and could ski and fence by fourteen, I’m not, taking risks, I’m not doing whatever I have to, and that everyone who told me Bertrand was boring (because there were people!!!) and safe and uncomplicated was right and that I’m betraying some fundamental aspect of myself by not even trying, and that I’m hurting Bertrand especially for making him a damn pawn in what I think my life is

But it’s not like I never did! It’s not like I didn’t spend years and years of my life trying to be a good person, trying to create the life I wanted, all of this is me, every ugly thought and every bad decision and every unfinished book and every theater script I keep leaving around places and every single page of this as I try to figure out where I want to go from here! And it just comes back to one thing, Lemony, just one thing! That we can’t do this! That I can’t have you in my life like this! That I didn’t believe it would happen but here it is, it’s happening!! I can’t avoid it! You walked away from me and expected me to be okay with it! You expected me to wait! You expected me to do it! You expected EVERYTHING from me and I only have so much to give, I’m only so much, I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING

And do you know what I am? Do you know what I am, really, when I get right down to it?? I am this, this awful woman with blood on my hands asking you for something that even I could never give anybody, not you or Bertrand or myself and I’m so sick of everything, I’m so sick of myself, I hate everyone and myself most of all, for being like this, for turning into this person, I hate hate hate hate hate all of this and how we were raised and what our future is going to be and what I’ve done and what is it going to take, for things to be better, for me to be better, for—what is it going to take, Lemony, for you to walk back through that door again and not do it over and over and over and I can’t keep letting you do this, I can’t, not to me or to Bertrand, I can’t keep hoping you’ll be there when I wake up and I can’t keep dreaming we’re going to die and I can’t keep pretending that anything about us has ever been okay or ever will be okay! Nothing about this is okay and how am I only realizing it now? How long have we been fooling ourselves into thinking that we could do this? How long do I have to be kind about this? How long do I have to play nice about you and this?

I’m UPSET and I’m ALLOWED TO BE and I

don’t

know

can

forgive

you

I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I can look at you anymore.

I don’t know.

Do you know how it was, Lemony? It was us first. You and me. From the second we saw each other in that green-walled room, it was you and me. Lemony and Beatrice. Root beer floats and being purposely mysterious to each other when we talked and being too clever. And I thought that meant we could do anything. We could die and I’d be happy because I was with you. As long as I had you.

And then there was Bertrand. And life felt different. Bertrand made it different, Bertrand made life different, he made it worth something else. And the bond that you and I had? Irreplaceable. And what we created with him only made it better. We had room in what we had for something so good. It really was Bertrand. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for him. And I saw that in you, too. You thought it too.

That was when I worried. When I started dreaming about terrible things happening to us. To you. I kept running from it because I didn’t know what else to do. I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose.

I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared to be wrong. I’m scared to know anything else.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t think you are.

I’m not sorry.

-------

Here are some questions. Here are some facts. Here are some things.

1 – I’m tired.

2 – I can’t even wonder if we should have done things differently anymore, right after that moment we met. In that room, I never imagined any of this.

3 – Sometimes I do think you lied all along. And that’s not a reflection on our associates or anything but just, see question/statement 1.

4 – You had to have thought about what would happen.

5 – How could we have a family like this?

6 – Did you think you could run all your life? Did you think that would work out? That Bertrand and I would be satisfied with that?

7 – Did you want me like that?

8 – What am I supposed to do?

9 – How long did you think we could keep this up?

10 – Was I wrong?

11 – What did you want?

12 – I know you’d thought about what a family with us would look like and I didn’t think you’d let anything stand in the way of that and maybe that was where I was naive.

13 – What would you say if I asked you this in person?

-------

After all this, I—

Bertrand has asked me if I have any spare pens.

-------

Lemony—

A long time ago, I sat in the diner near your apartment. We’d all known each other for a while, and you and Bea were very much together, and I didn’t quite feel like a third wheel anymore but I also didn’t feel like I was a part of everything yet. We were still dancing around each other, and I was doing it truly, incredibly badly.

I was in the habit of meeting Jo on weekends, when we would go over our reports together because we worked in similar places. We’d meet in the diner. I would arrive early and take a seat near the door. It had the best view of your window. You never turned the lights on, but I would look at it and think about you and—I’m completely serious—write the worst poetry ever to exist. You and Bea have always been much better at it. Jo would take it upon herself to help and suddenly they were these grammar-specific poems, which meant I definitely was not going to send them. Jo is many things; Jo is just not particularly a writer of romance.

I never told you or Bea, because it didn’t seem noteworthy, once we were together. But, things happen in your life and you wish you’d been able to say so much more than you did. I wanted to tell you about the face Bea makes when you aren’t there. She bites her lip and frowns around the kitchen when there’s a lull in the conversation in the spots you would usually say something clever. I wanted to tell you how the bed doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t in it. Bea says the wrinkles don’t set the same, and I feel like it’s emptier without you. I wanted to tell you that the hottest summer days—and I feel like there have been an endless amount of them so far this summer, humid and muggy and not the least bit sultry—even they feel cold when we can’t see you. I wanted to tell you that every time I do the laundry, I remember how you can’t fold socks. I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped folding socks altogether, which has become quite the problem. Bea and I have stacks of socks in the bedroom now, which is just silly. I wanted to tell you that I love watching you put your hat by the door when you come home, resting it on the table as gently as possible, giving such a small gesture has such a big importance.

I took those things for granted. So much of my life, I’ve thought that loving things so fiercely and so determinedly could be enough, and I’ve relied on that love to get me through what we had to do. Even when the three of us weren’t together, I think I would’ve been happy to stay that way, because I could still love both of you regardless, and just that would’ve been enough. Just to be able to love you, and have your companionship. I would have cherished that always.

I’m the one who’s been so lucky, Lemony. When we all got together, I felt like my life began. I felt like you and Bea pulled me along into something beautiful and breathtaking and nothing would ever compare. I felt like it would always be there, for the rest of my life.

And I’m—

I don’t hate you. I could never. You need to know, that no matter what happens, I will never hate you. I can’t promise to not be upset with you, because I am, and a little angry, and a little disappointed, and a lot sad. But I don’t hate you.

You and Bea have such beautiful ways to say things, and I’ve always been so jealous of the way you two write. You told me that both of you were jealous of my tendency to be a little more forthright, at least when I got down to it, because let’s not forget, I did spend two months coming up with nicknames for all of us instead of just telling you how much you meant to me. But I don’t have lengthy or passionate ways to say certain things, is what it is. Actions, definitely. But when I have to say it, it comes out.

I love you.

And I wish you were here.

I never wanted to think about it, I guess. I’ve done a very good job of not thinking of things I didn’t want to think about. We do difficult things and live difficult lives. It takes its toll, and I’ve watched it happen. I thought if I held on tight enough—to you, to Bea, to myself—that we could escape some of it, no matter what we’ve done. And we’ve done a lot. We’ve been kept up in turn by sleepless nights and bad dreams and wondering too much. We’re not going to leave—not for good, and each of us know that—but it could be more manageable, together. We would figure it out, when we needed to. Perhaps I was a bit too optimistic about how well I could do it.

I hate to think it was something we did, or something we didn’t see. I hate to think that you gave up on yourself or on us. I hate to think I didn’t do enough. I know it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault. I know Bea keeps telling me I’m too kind for my own good, and I think it’s because I’m afraid to really feel anything. Feeling it makes it too real, something I have to actually contend with, and I don’t want to. I really don’t.

I want to say—I don’t want to tell you, I just want to say it—that I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been, and I don’t feel like I belong here without you, and that I think, you didn’t want to do it, but you knew what you were doing, and you did it because some things just sound easier, or hurt more but hurt less than others, and that I despise the people that we’ve become. I despise the things that we’ve been made into, and I don’t know how much of it we did to ourselves. I don’t know how much I can change.

I won’t lie, Lemony, because I’ve never been much of a liar. It’s been hard without you. Bea and I haven’t been talking very much, and we get into arguments when we do. We’ve been avoiding each other. It’s hard to avoid someone you live with, for a lot of reasons. But we’ve been managing to do it. I’ve been hiding at the Denouement. Absolutely, definitely hiding. Dewey’s not pleased but he doesn’t say no to the help organizing the archives. Bea’s been going to the theater, even though she’s technically off-duty for the next seven months (it was self-imposed off-duty, which I’ll admit was surprising). When we do talk to each other, Bea has a tendency to raise her voice, which I don’t mind, necessarily, because I understand why she keeps doing it. I have a tendency of late to do the same, which I’m not proud of. Taking it out on each other isn’t good or responsible of us, but it’s where we are right now. It is a miserable place to be.

Bea assumes I’m upset with her, but I’m not. I’m upset with myself, mostly. I keep thinking that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t here, that I made things worse. If you and Bea had just gone on by yourselves, maybe there would be so much less unhappiness. Maybe I was what made it hard for you to stay. Maybe I pressured you, maybe I pressured myself. Maybe this is my lot in life. They’re awful things to think, but I’m thinking them. That’s what people do, when upsetting things happen. We try to figure out where we went wrong. We don’t come up with any answers, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, which we do enough of too. I know eventually we’ll stop hurting each other, Bea and I. It just feels a long way away right now. A lot of things feel that way. You, myself, my friends, anything I thought I knew or had.

I’m being very unkind, to myself. That’s not your fault. It’s just something I’m realizing now. I’ve spent a lot of my life being unkind to myself. I don’t know how not to be. There are many things I don’t believe that I deserve, a sentiment I know you understand. It’s hard to feel like we deserve anything, even what we love. The more I think about it, the more I think, maybe that was why. And that breaks my heart and scares me so much, Lemony, that we—you—are capable of feeling such sadness.

Honestly, part of me wants to keep waiting. The part of me that is a fairly patient person is probably willing to do so. But the other part of me that is less patient and a husband to both of you is the part that hurts, and the part that reminds me that I am allowed to say that there is only so much I can take. I want you here more than anything, but I know for sure none of this is ever going to be that simple again.

But going forward from this, I want to feel like I deserve things. There’s only so much time I can spend regretting, or hating myself, or wishing that I had done something different. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that, and I think I still will be, for a while. I think I’m going to keep thinking miserable things for some time to come. But on the other side of that is something else. Not necessarily a happiness, or a satisfaction, but a certain kind of existence. Or, I guess, a kindness.

I love you very much, Lemony, and I can’t imagine doing this without you. I still don’t want to.

But if you have to—Bea and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here. I can’t promise in what way, but we’ll be here, if or when or anything at all. I hope you can meet us in that something else one day.

Until then, with all my love,

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

to give your heart a song to sing,

and then a kiss, but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July, a lemonade

to cool you in some leafy glade,

I wish you health,

and more than wealth,

I wish you love.

My breaking heart and I agree

that you and I could never be,

so with my best,

my very best,

I set you free.

I wish you shelter from the storm,

a cozy fire to keep you warm,

but most of all,

when snowflakes fall,

I wish you love.

Bertrand

face the sun

in the night,

find it in the night

in the pieces,

dig for it,

dig it out with my hands alone.

yes.

what I left –

fragments,

every last eye,

unwelcome.

piling it back in.

new sunlight.

-------

So—the sad truth is that the truth is sad. The real truth is that I never wanted to believe you were right about that. I thought I could get by on good looks and sheer force and well-hidden optimism and believing I was right. I was wrong. We were all wrong, some of us more wrong than others.

Where you went wrong is thinking that we—that I—would be okay with this. And that was where I went wrong too, I admit. The blame could be with all of us.

What I do know is that we can’t be together like this. Not like this. This is where it ends.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t know what Bertrand and I will do. And the two of us—Bertrand and I—can figure that out. In whatever way that is. Whatever you’re doing, I leave you to it.

You will—always, always, always—be (somewhere) in my mind, and (deep) in my heart, and wherever (wherever.) (parenthetical required.) you are. Be it a boat, or a cave, or the city, or a grave, true or false. That’s the way you want it. That’s the way I will accept it. Good luck.

Beatrice

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events

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bakugou-jpg · 5 years ago

Note

hi!! ive been rereading a lot of your old kinktober works and I was wondering if you could maybe write an extended version of ‘w’ from the kirishima nsfw alphabet you did from 2018 👉👈

Whoa, its been quite sometime since i wrote that huh? Two years already, last time i was really active on here. Guess we’ll have to change that huh? Anyway, hope you enjoy angel❤️

Kirishima Eijirou

Nsfw under the cut

__________________

"Ngh, f-fuck.."

The sounds of heavy panting and skin slapping together echoed off the walls of the room. Clothes were scattered all over the apartment creating a mess but one that lead to the bedroom where the pro hero was currently having your knees pressed against your chest a position that allowed you to feel his length graze your insides on just the right places.

Your mewls were like sweet honey dripping down a spoon to Kirishima’s ears. It was a sound that made his cock twitch inside of you, a sound he could listen to for hours. If he could make a little music box that was only for his use where he could listen your melodic pleads and moans whenever he wanted he would, then again that was simply just a dirty wish he had that he’d never act on.

“So good to me, ‘feel so good clenching around me like that baby”

You were trembling beneath him, sweat cascading down your chest and forehead as you responded with a whine, your hands making their way to his back for some sort of grip. Your nails were digging into his skin before dragging over his back something which made Kirishima let out a moan.

You felt so good. Your walls sucking him in with every thrust, your body trembling beneath him everytime he started rubbing circles on your clit before clenching around him once again. Your pussy was glistening with both his and your arousal, slowly dripping down to your ass.

“E-eiji..m’ gonna- shit!”

Kirishima’s lips were quick to find yours and his hand reached out to one of your tits, giving it a squeeze before twisting your nipple between his fingers.

“I know baby, I’ve got you”

You were so pretty. The way your baby hairs were sticking to your dampened face, droplets of sweat dripping down your forehead. Your eyes rolled back and looking at him with a pleading look for him to give you what you oh so desperately desired. The way your tits moved along with the rhythm of his thrust and how a single droplet of drool cascaded down your chin.

It still so felt so surreal that he was able to fuck you so senseless whenever he wanted, that was with consent of course! Because real men only do things with the consent of the person they’re making love to..but aside from that, Kirishima’s mind was always blown by the fact he of all people was the person you kissed passionately, held in your arms, whispered words of love to and who you allowed to destroy that pretty little pussy he loved oh so much.

You were his. Only his. His to make into a drooling mess, to break.

Kirishima’s thrust got sloppier and his hands made their way onto your shoulders, gripping them before pressing his chest closer to yours ws your legs swung over his shoulder. Maybe he really was gonna break you eventually of he thought he was gonna be able to bend you even further than that.

You felt so good.

So pretty

So good.

His mind went blank, the only thing he could currently focus on was the feeling of his cock ramming into your pussy.

“(Y-Y/n)”

Just as Kirishima was about to reach his high, his heart stopped the moment your pained scream one that definitely wasn’t out of pleasure filled the room.

Kirishima was a caring gentle giant. He’d never do anything to hurt you, even if you wanted pain he’d be very hesitant to actually do something a bit ‘major’. He didn’t like hitting you in your face, to tie ropes too tightly around your ankles or wrists or to bite you too hard for he was afraid his sharp teeth would make you bleed.

So when he felt how, in the moment his mind had been controlled by the pleasure he was feeling, his quirk had activated in some parts of his bodies his heart immediately dropped. His hands, the one that a second ago were holding onto you for support, had cut through your skin with a small trail of blood trailing down one of your arms and stained his fingers.

No, no, no, no, no-

The man panicked, now suddenly very aware of the places he had hardened and how he hurted you. Tears pricked his eyes when he noticed how the one body part that was currently connecting the two of you also seemed to have hardened.

He immediately deactivated his quirk before pushing himself off of you, taking off the now ripped condom and jumping up from the bed to find a fresh pair of boxers before he hurried off to the bathroom.

“I-i’m sorry, baby I’m so sorry fuck shit. I-i didn’t mean to!”

Kirishima came back, wet towel in his hand before he kneeled down in front of you and wrapped the towel around the cut on your arm. At this point the tears that had welled up in his eyes were very close to falling.

“I-i’m so sor-“

“No,no, Eiji its okay! Don’t apologize, its okay you’re okay i’m okay, yeah? Cut isn’t that deep it can happen” You said while getting up and cupping his cheeks, gently caressing his skin with your thumb.

Kirishima started sniffling before breaking down, burrying his face into your shoulder while very carefully holding onto your pinky too scared he’d hurt you again. “Its so unmanly, I’m so sorry for hurting you! I-i even ripped through the-Shit! Did i hurt you down there too?” He asked, his head shooting up with eyes wide open. Before he could panic even more you had quickly shaken your head before taking his face in your hands again.

“Just the cut in my arm, Eiji. Ripped condom isn’t a problem, don’t worry we can buy something for that in the morning okay? Calm down, its okay”

You wanted to grab his hand, to give it a gentle squeeze, but the moment your hand brushed against his Kirishima had pulled away from you, sitting back on the ground with a pout on his face. His eyes were looking at your arm, your blood staining the wet towel.

The moment you got up, slightly stumbling on your legs from the previous event, and kneeled down next to him, Kirishima had brushed you off and got up. His hair was covering his eyes, the usual fire he had in his eyes now nothing more but an ember and close to burning up.

“Eiji-“

“Don’t..touch me. I..need some time”

And with that he walked out of the bedroom.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #kaya #naughty things

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mierinette · 5 years ago

Text

day 01 - cafe

i'll make a cup of coffee, with the right amount of sugar.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

MARINETTE doesn't exactly know what makes her answer yes.

Maybe it's from all the overnight shifts she's been taking, or the coffee fumes she's been inhaling daily finally taking a toll on her brain— or maybe it's because he's the most handsome man she's ever seen walk into her cafe (fact: it's most definitely the third reason), but Marinette can't bring herself to say no to him.

And as things always come with her, a well-intentioned yes easily snowballs into a mess of epically huge proportions. (Though in her defense, she doesn't know that yet.)

Marinette plasters on a smile directed at the customer. "Of course we do!" She replies, noticing a little too late that her voice is a notch higher than usual. "It's just that we don't— uh, have it now! Out of stock, haha, y'know how restaurants go… well, maybe you don't, but there's this thing called supply and demand, and… I mean, I don't want to assume you're dumb or anything— in fact, you're probably a lot smarter than me I went to a fashion university, can you believe that? Like, I went abroad and everything. I learned a lot then, but—"

Horrified that she was tripping over her words, Marinette inhales deeply, then wills herself to stop talking. "— so, anyway! We'll probably have it in stock some time soon, so come back then, okay? I'll have a piping hot coffee ready for you to drink with those pretty lips of y— I mean! Maybe I could call you when you can stop by?"

Marinette only has a moment to reflect on how suggestive that may sound before the customer laughs, effectively breaking her thoughts from spiralling any deeper than they already were.

"Sure," he says, and Marinette briefly wonders if love at first sight has more truth to it than others may believe. "Can I have your phone? I'll put in my number."

His voice is smooth and confident, and Marinette feels the burning need to disappear into a puddle. She hands over her phone gingerly, and takes a moment to appreciate his arms as they type away at the screen.

He returns her phone and smiles. "I'm really lucky I stopped by your cafe. I didn't think there was any place in Paris that had it available," the stranger explains. "Even when I was in America, it was already hard to get a hold of. So thank you…"

The stranger pauses, then looks down at her nametag. "Marinette." He nods his head toward her as a gesture of appreciation, then disappears out the door.

The moment he steps out of her cafe, Marinette feels her knees give out and falls to the floor.

And as she always does when she makes a mess of things, she calls her business partner.

"Alya, I may have messed up… again."

ii.

"What the hell is Kopi Luwak coffee?"

It's a valid question, and Marinette has no idea how to answer. After all, she doesn't actually know what it is either. "His order?" She answers back (completely unhelpfully).

Alya sighs, then pinches her forehead. She's the more level-headed one from the two of them, and therefore the one who always has to fix whatever mess Marinette had gotten into at the time. They're at her office— Alya usually handles the more managerial parts of running the business, whereas Marinette is more on the production of food and drinks side — as she inputs the term into the search bar.

The results are quick to show up:

KOPI LUWAK: THE MOST EXPENSIVE COFFEE IN THE WORLD!

Their faces consequently morph into ones of expectant horror. Alya clicks on the link, and has to visibly stop the sudden gasp that escapes her throat. The cost of one cup of coffee ranges from $35 to $100, with a single kilogram of beans worth almost $700.

Marinette almost snatches the mouse from her hand as she quickly scrolls through the article, clinging onto the (very likely futile) hope that it's probably someone's terrible idea for a joke.

Unfortunately, it isn't.

Alya's the first to speak up, and it's a simple question. "Was our customer a millionaire or something?!"

"I don't know!" Marinette responds, panicked. "I mean, if he were it'd make sense why he's so attractive but he never said anything!"

"Why did you say we provided this?! We can't serve hundred-dollar coffee, we're barely paying rent as it is!"

"I know, I know!" Marinette repeats, pulling at her hairs in stress. "I just thought it was some other kind of regular coffee! How was I supposed to know he wanted that?!" She extends both her arms to point at the computer screen, then shakes her head. "Only an insane person would pay that much for a drink!"

Then, a pause. And in a quieter tone: "Why can't I meet normal guys? Is a cute boy too much to ask for?"

Alya rolls her eyes, then suddenly puts her hands on the table. One returns to massaging her forehead. "Okay, Marinette. We can't serve this to him. You'll just have to tell him the truth."

"But I can't do that!" Marinette frowns, as if the very notion of telling the truth is impossible. "He'll find out that I lied to him and he'll hate me and start going to another cafe instead!"

"— then you shouldn't have lied in the first place!" Alya points out, wagging her finger. "It's better to tell him now before he comes here again and finds out for himself!"

Marinette shifts in place, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "Maybe we can find cheaper alternatives somewhere else?" She asks. "I bet if we ask our suppliers, someone's bound to grow those beans—"

"Afraid not, girl," Alya says, turning to look at the computer. "These aren't regular beans. Apparently they're made by—," she suddenly pauses, as her face contorts into one of pure disgust. "Ew!"

"What?" Marinette walks toward the computer and leans over, only to feel the need to gag upon reading what came next: Coffee beans are digested by a civet cat. Their excretions are sold as the rare Kopi Luwak.

"So you mean…" Marinette begins, shivering. "That this coffee is basically… cat poop?"

Alya looks at her solemnly, then nods. "Yup."

At that, they finally burst into laughter— though whether it's from entertainment, the absurdity of the situation, or the realization that she's helpless in securing a date with the stranger, or all of the above, Marinette can't tell at all.

iii.

They agree that Marinette tell the truth to the Cute (And Apparently Rich) Coffee Stranger even though it'll very likely ruin all her chances with him. Nothing is, as Alya says, worth spending hundreds of dollars on cat poop for.

Except that Marinette Dupain-Cheng cannot follow directions.

Instead, she contacts a special supplier internationally and pays almost a thousand dollars total to have a kilogram of the beans at her doorstep not more than a week later. (Marinette finds comfort in knowing that the coffee doesn't smell like actual feces.)

She messages the stranger, who left his contact name as a single coffee emoji:

hey we restocked and are ready to serve tomorrow! can you drop by? :)

The reply is almost instantaneous:

That's great! I'll stop by in the morning. Thank you so much!

Marinette reads and rereads that message until she finally falls asleep.

iv.

For the first time since the history of her business, Marinette doesn't arrive to work late.

She doesn't know exactly what time the Coffee Stranger will arrive, but she knows that she doesn't want to miss when he does. Marinette takes the morning shift (something that all her co-workers were understandably surprised by), and she waits.

Coffee Stranger arrives an hour later.

He greets her good morning, and Marinette short-circuits. She reaches out her hand. “Hi! I'm Marinette!"

He laughs. "I know," he says. "Maybe you don't remember me? I gave you my number. I'm the one who asked for the Kopi Luwak?"

"Sorry. Of course I remember! I could never forget you," she replies— blurting it out, to her complete horror.

Coffee Stranger, thankfully, doesn't look all that bothered. In fact, he looks entertained, more so than anything else. "Great," he responds, the smile still on his face. "Then I'll have that."

Marinette nods, and she gets to work on his coffee. She gets it done quickly (Marinette had practiced making it at home; pleasantly surprised to find that it tasted wonderful), and hands him a perfectly hot cup of coffee. "That'll be… eighty dollars."

She cringes at the cost, but the Coffee Stranger pulls out a hundred dollar bill without hesitance. "Keep the change," he tells her, as he takes a sip. "This is even better than what I've had before! Definitely worth more."

The barista blinks in disbelief. "You really think so?" She asks, to which the stranger enthusiastically nods. Marinette feels her body buzz with joy from the sudden compliment, then she points at the macarons on the counter. "Here," she begins. "It's on the house."

The stranger looks up in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Marinette smiles. "It goes great with the coffee," she explains. "I think you'll like the passionfruit flavor. It mixes well with the cat po— the Kopi Luwak."

"Perfect," the stranger responds. "Passionfruit's my favourite flavor!" He grins, then pauses. "And… it's Adrien."

"What?"

Coffee Stranger's eyes go up to meet hers. Green. A forest of green she wouldn't mind getting lost in forever. "My name's Adrien," he says, reaching out his hand to hers. "Nice to meet you.."

Marinette suddenly feels her throat dry. She suddenly forgets that she spent a thousand dollars just to make him happy. It feels worth it.

"Nice to meet you too."

Adrien quickly becomes a regular.

He makes it a point to stop by whenever she's working, sometimes having his coffee to go, and other times staying in to do his work at the cafe. Marinette likes those times the most— and she almost always sneaks in a little macaron or some other snack to help him get through the day. It's small and short exchanges, but they learn more about each other and that's more than enough to make her happy.

She finds out a lot about him. He's kind. He has a sweet tooth. He lives with his best friend, a DJ. He owns a cat. (He clarified, however, that all he does with Plagg's feces is throw it away.) He's rich, but it mostly came as savings from his younger years. He was a teenage model, but nowadays he prefers being the one behind it. (A waste, Marinette thinks, but she respects his decision.) His mom's gone, and he doesn't speak much with his dad. He treasures his friendships more than anything.

Adrien tells her that he treasures their friendship. Marinette's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes when she thinks about how that's all they'll probably be.

She willfully ignores Alya's unimpressed looks and how her bank funds steadily drain into the danger zone.

vi.

At some point, Marinette can't ignore it.

The bank tells her that she can't withdraw anymore, because her funds are almost completely depleted. She paces back and forth her room, visibly stressed. Her current bag of coffee beans would likely last her a few more days— but afterwards, it'll no longer be an option.

Alya says that it's easier to tell the truth.

As per usual, she's right. Marinette promises to herself to talk to Adrien when the coffee's gone completely.

vii.

"I was lying to you."

Marinette decides to be upfront, delivering the statement along with his final cup of coffee.

"What do you mean?" His look is serious, and it's a complete change of pace from how he usually is. It makes her stomach so uncomfortable turns and her knees buckle together in fear.

She sighs. "I was… lying about the coffee." She says it quickly and in one breath, and Adrien's eyebrows knitting together makes it clear that he understood none of it.

"About what?"

"The coffee!" Marinette basically shouts, then pulls him aside as they notice the customers pile in line. Another co-worker takes over, and throws them a concerned glance before focusing on their task completely.

Marinette brings Adrien to one of the empty storerooms, and when they settle, he speaks up. "What do you mean you lied about the coffee?"

"We never sold Kopi Luwak," she explains.

"No," Adrien argues. "That's definitely what I've been drinking, though?"

"Yeah," she replies, shaking her head. "But the cafe doesn't officially sell it. I was taking from my savings to buy the coffee abroad and make it for you." As Marinette says the words aloud, she begins to realise how outlandish the very idea was.

"What did you do that for?"

Marinette frowns to herself. "I guess I just didn't want to disappoint you… or something." Her cheeks redden, and she looks down. "I wanted to see you again too… I didn't want our only meeting to be that one time."

Marinette thinks she hears a hint of laughter, but it disappears so quickly she may have imagined it. "You know," Adrien begins. "If you wanted to see me again, you could've just asked." He smiles at her, but it looks almost sheepish. Adrien scratches his head. "I mean, I was really only ordering coffee so I could keep meeting up with you."

What?

Marinette fumbles over her words. "You… me… meet up?"

Adrien laughs, full-blown now. "Yeah. I thought you were cute. And when I got to know you better, it was just… I couldn't stop myself. I might have caffeine overdose, but I think it's worth it." He turns toward her and wraps his arms around her waist, and Marinette finds a laugh escaping her throat.

"Been having trouble sleeping, then?”

"Haven't slept since the day I met you," he replies. "But I don't mind, because you're a dream come true."

Marinette rolls her eyes at how silly it all is. "That's corny."

"I like to think of myself as a corny jokes and puns connoisseur," he explains teasingly. "Maybe you'll let me tell you more over dinner?"

"How forward of you," Marinette laughs, but nods all the same. "I just have to warn you, I'm broke from all the coffee beans you made me buy."

He smiles. "Then I guess I'll have to pay for all our dates from now on?"

Marinette hums, then grins lightly. "I wouldn't be against that."

"Then it's a deal." He replies, suddenly looking at her directly. "Want to seal it?"

She has a vague idea of where he's going with this, and the smile practically blooms on her face. "Yes."

It doesn't take anymore waiting until he kisses her.

(And she's glad to say that he tastes like roasted coffee beans and a warm fire; not at all like cats or feces or anything of that sort.)

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic

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jungshookz · 6 years ago

Note

I rlly love librarian joon so much that ive been rereading it and i was wondering,,, maybe a drabble on how y/n gets a tutor for her philosophy (or any subject) class and they have lessons in the library and joon gets jealous esp when y/n tutor is obvioUSLY flirting with y/n but shes an oblivious walnut (we still love u y/n) and he gets kind of insecure that y/n doesnt ask him for help instead and constantly ditches him for tutoring lessons and overall just seems to have more fun with her tutor

→ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

→ genre: librarian!joonie is back!!!!, let me introduce you all to arthoe!taehyung, oblivious!y/n, fluffy times + lil bit of angst + tinY bit of smut u know how it be

→ wordcount: 3.4k

(gif isn’t mine!)

namjoon usually doesn’t take things personally because he’s groWn and he has better things to fret over

but sweetie

he is FREttING over this very very hard

you decided to take up art history this semester and you didn’t want to sLip so you hooked yourself up with a tutor

you just came out of nowhere and you were like hey by the way i can’t hang out after class today because i have my first tutoring lesson and namjoon was like ?? do you have another philosophy exam or something

“nah i don’t have any more exams i’m just taking art history this year and i want to be ahead of everything and stuff”

wha-

namjoon thinks that he makes a pretty good tutor himself and he would totaLLY memorise 100 books worth of information so that he could teach you because that’S how much he cares for u

but of course he doesn’t think much of it because yeah it makes sense

art history isn’t namjoon’s specialty so obviously you would reach out to someone who’s actually learning the stuff

okay

whatever it’s fine

“okay! are we still going for dinner?”

“i’ll let you know but honestly probably not?? i’m behind on coursework and taehyung’s going to go over everything that i missed which is a lot!!! i’ll text you later dweeb” namjoon doesn’t even get the chance to respond before you’re leaning down to give him a quick peck and then you just yeEt out of the library

….taehyung

your tutor is a guy

which is fine!!!! totally fine

he’s just curious as to who this taehyung guy is

he’s not like a super jealous freak of a boyfriend it’s all good

namjoon purses his lips before shrugging to himself and bringing his attention back to his laptop

about 20 minutes pass and namjoon’s phone buzzes on the desk

‘we’re still on for dinner!!! i’ll meet u outside the library at 6’

hAh

see

nothing to worry about

hey

remember the thing namjoon said about having nothing to worry about

now he has something to worry about

it’s nearing 6:45 and you still haven’t shown up

namjoon sighs and leans against the front door

he could go back into the library but he already set up the alarm system for the night and he locked everything up

god it’s cold tonight

he shudders and wraps his coat tighter around himself

where are you??

and right on cue namjoon’s phone starts ringing in his pocket

he scrambles to unlock his phone and he brings it up to his ear

“y/n?”

“joon?? i’m so sorry!!!! i completely forgot about dinner i didn’t even know how quickly time was going by!!!”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it!” namjoon clears his throat and musters a smile “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

it’s good that you’re taking your studying more seriously

yeah it kinda sucked standing out here in the cold for literally 45 minutes but u know what it’s greAt that you’re so passionate about learning new things now

“uh-huh! oh, i have to tell you aLL about taehyung he’s hilarious and he taught me so sO much and i didn’t even know studying could be this much fun! anyways i promise i’ll make it up to you-”

U M

what’s thAT supposed to mean

was studying philosophy with namjoon not fun???? he made like a shiTload of fancy flashcards and you seemed like you were having fun!!!

namjoon presses his lips together to keep himself from saying anything snarky even tho he really wants to

“i’m sorRy i’m sorry i’m soRRy i’M sorrryyyyryryryryyrryyr-“ you whine and slump in namjoon’s arms when he opens them up to give you a hug when you come in the next day

“it’s hard to hug you when you’re all floppy and boneless.” namjoon chuckles and you stand up straight before wrapping your arms around his neck loosely

you stand up on your tip-toes to give him a peck or two (or three or four or five) and namjoon hums contently

you should ditch him more often if it gets u to act like this (just kidding he didn’t like being ditched it was awful)

he has you sandwiched in between the book cart and himself and you’re not usually a PDA kinda gal but you can work with this

“do you forgive me?” you adjust his tie and namjoon leans down a little to sneak another kiss from you

“i haven’t decided yet.” namjoon jokes and you let out a small whine

“maybe if you take a quick break.,.. we can go into the backroom..,.,., i’m sure i can find other ways for you to forgive me.,,” you whistle and trace your finger along his chest and namjoon scoffs playfully before stepping aside and letting you out of the bookcart-namjoon sandwich

“i forgive you, don’t worry about it, hm? i’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“yes, you’re right! it won’t happen again. …and i wasn’t kidding about the backroom thing.”

“tempting, but… someone was being a little too loud in there last time.” namjoon pokes your nose before sliding a couple books onto the shelf and wheeling the cart back to the front counter

meanwhile you’re trailing behind him the whole time

“touché. you’re coming over to my place this weekend, right?”

“correct” namjoon opens the little gate to let himself behind the counter

“good!!! i made sure to fluff up your pillows anD i put the shirts and boxers that u left last time in the drawer”

“oh, i get my own drawer already?” namjoon teases and although you roll your eyes your cheeks are starting to heat up

ya he has his own drawer now so what it’s not a biG deal okAY

“ooh, by the way - do you think i can study here today?” you point over to the lounge area where your backpack is thrown haphazardly over the couch and your notes and pens are scattered everywhere

..classic

“the classroom that we usually go to is booked up.” you lean over the counter and give namjoon your cutest pout “and i already told taehyung to meet me here”

right

taehyung

he still doesn’t know who the guy is

whoever he is he made you ditch dinner but namjoon isn’t biTTer or anyThing

namjoon rolls his eyes playfully “don’t look at me like that, you. of course you can study here! just make sure to keep it quiet and stuff since this is the library, after all”

hey

spoiler alert: namjoon agreeing to let you study here was a big fat MISTAKE

why do bad things happen to good people

in this case the bad thing is kim taehyung and the good person is namjoon in case that wasn’t already painfully obvious

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes when he hears another giggle slip past your lips

yes

he loves the sound of your giggle

but noT when it’s caused by kim taehyung

namjoon peeks over the top of his book to look over at you two again

what even is he wearing

are those shoes from guCCI

he has dad-looking square framed silver glasses which look a loT lamer than namjoon’s thick-framed glasses in his humble opinion

and he’s wearing a dangly earring but it’s only in one ear like if ur going to wear dangly earrings u might as well wear them in both ears

and he’s wearing a beret???? this is the LIBRARY this is not PARIS

cE N’EST PAS PARIS

taehyung leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing the leg of your chair and pulling you closer as you continue to babble on about something

meanwhile namjoon’s just sitting behind the counter gawking at the two of you

what is happening????? what the hell is this??????

“now, lift your hand.” taehyung’s baritone voice is suddenly all namjoon can focus on

jesus

his voice is like.,.,. smooth dark chocolate.,.,,. warm honey.,,.,.,.smokey,.., bbq sauce?,.., the point is namjoon sounds like a frog going through puberty compared to taehyung

namjoon is very obviously staring at the two of you now he’s not even going to try and hide it

“-the elegantly, loosely held hands from da vinci probably represent the most exquisite drawing of hands in the history of art…” taehyung hums and presses his hands against yours before loosely intertwining his fingers with yours “every detail of the long fingers and the beautifully modulated shading produces a convincing effect of reality so that one can almost know the person from her hands…” he pulls away and traces his finger from the tip of your middle finger down to your wrist

hausdhKJSHFJKHDS

is that allOWED ??? is that alloweD????????

namjoon is noT going to let this.,.., this.,,.,., ART HOE steaL you from him

and that’s when the lightbulb appears above his head

art history can’t be thAt hard to master…right?

long ass story short: namjoon spends the entire night going through your syllabus and making sure he’s brushed up on all of the topics so that when he teaches you he’ll have somewhat of an idea of what he’s talking about

he took out a bunch of history books and lugged them all home and he has sticky notes everywhere and his brand new notebook is full of information relating to art history

he pauses and stops typing and leans back against his chair

what the hell is he doing

he’s seriously going to sit here the whole night doing research on a topic he’s never studied before because HE wants to be the one to teach you instead of stupid taehyung

….the answer is yes

namjoon adjusts his glasses and begins typing out his notes again

“the elegantly loosely held hands represent the most exquisite drawing of hands in the history of art…” namjoon mocks taehyung when he gets to a part in the textbook where it talks about da vinci “i bet he has some kind of hand fetish.,,. that beret-wearing weirdo”

maybe he’s being a little too harsh

namjoon is not a mean-spirited person

he’s just not used to.,..,,. relationship.,,., things..,., and the..,., the jealousy thing

he thinks that it’s stupid that he’s jealous but he can’t help it okay

he can be insecure sometimes and right now he’s kinda insecure because taehyung is smooth and handsome and charming and namjoon is weird and awkward and dorky but like in an endearing way??? kinda?? and-

u know what he’s not going to worry about this he doesn’t have time to worry he needs to write out these notes

the point is

these are unfamiliar waters

he lets out a small breath

okay

nice and calm

everything’s good

EVERYTHING IS NOT GOOD

EVERYTHING IS BAD AND EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE AND THIS LIBRARY’S LOCATION IS IN HELL

“aw, joonie, that’s awfully sweet of you, but you didn’t have to! taehyung has it covered.” you coo and reach up to cup namjoon’s cheek “okay i’m going to go back to-“

“wait- you don’t even wanna try studying with me?? l-look, i made flash cards and everything!” namjoon sets the textbooks down on the counter with a thud before reaching over and grabbing the whole stack of multicoloured flash cards

“well, maybe we can study together… later! you really didn’t have to do all of this for me…” you trail off and furrow your brows

namjoon did a LOT of work like he filled out an entire notebook with notes and this is a thicc stacc of flashcards

“plus you need to dust the bookshelves, don’t you? why don’t you go ahead and do that?”

“y/n, you coming back?” you look over your shoulder and taheyung’s looking over at you worryingly and you wave him off

“yes! hold on, i’m just-“

“c’mon come sit let taehyung take a pee break or something let’s do some study- oH OH u know what i actually have a surprise for you!” namjoon rifles through his papers before sliding a brochure over to you “there’s an art exhibition in town this weekend! i can take you!!!!”

namjoon’s not aware of this but you’re not really paying attention to him because you’re looking through all the notes he wrote out for you

this is a loT of work how long did he take to write all of this down

you look up at him when you realise he’s stopped talking “sorry what was tha-“

“y/n! c’mon, i was just getting to the good part of the book.” taehyung suddenly appears behind you and wraps his fingers around your wrist

“oh, yep! okay, uh-“ before you know it taheyung’s dragging you back to the couch and you shoot namjoon a sheepish smile

it’s officially been three weeks since taehyung became your tutor

and these have been the worst three weeks of namjoon’s life

after the whole desperation act everything’s just seemed to get worse and worse and woRSE

suddenly taehyung is sucking up all of your time

you can’t grab a bite to eat with joon because taehyung wants you to watch a documentary to learn more about the mona lisa

you can’t hang out with joon in general because you’re spending every free minute studying your ass off

and all of these things have a common link

KIM TAEHYUNG

oOH god namjoon has never actively hated a person before but there’s always time to try new things!!!!!!!! HE HATES HIM

but this

this is just the iCIng on the cake!!! the cherry on the sundae!!!!!! the KICK IN THE ASS

“where are you going?? i thought we were finally going to grab some dinner together.” namjoon raises a brow when he notices you beginning to pack up early

“tae’s taking me to some art exhibition because he says it’s better for me to see the pieces up close rather than through the textbook” you hum as you start packing up your things “but don’t worry! i’ll make it back in time for dinner!!!”

namjoon’s eye twitches

you’re going to

you’re going to the art exhibition…. with taehyung……….. but u didn’t want to go when he suggested it.,,.,,.,.

“oh. i see.” namjoon slaps his book shut and clears his throat

you look over your shoulder before turning around

“…something’s wrong.”

see you have a thick skull but not to the point where you can’t see that something is obviously wrong

namjoon can practically hear the gears click-click-clicking away in your head as you stare at him blankly while trying to figure out what it is….,,. you did wrong,.,.,. ??

namjoon looks up at you and raises a brow “nothing’s wrong.” he shrugs casually before checking the time on his watch “you should probably head out to meet tae soon.” he murmurs a liTTLe more aggressively than he would’ve liked to murmur and brings his attention to his laptop

click-click-click-click-click

OH SHIT

oOOOohHHhHHH

“aw, joonie… i’m sorry!!!!” you pout and bend down and wrap your arms around him from behind as best as you can

“have i not been giving my doting boyfriend enough attention?” you tease and pop a kiss on his cheek before propping your chin up on his shoulder and namjoon lets out a sigh and stops typing

“cut it out, y/n” namjoon mutters and shrugs you off and you let out a breath

damn

he really mad

“namjoon, c’mon. i’m sorry, alright? i should’ve- you know how thick i am sometimes i thought tae was just being friendly because he seems like a naturally touchy person!”

“no one that friendly ever has friendly intentions.” namjoon turns around in his wheely chair to face you and raises a brow

“i’m sorry, joon. really, i am.” you plop yourself down on his lap and wrap an arm around his neck before leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder

his arm slinks around your waist and he rests his other hand over your lap

“no, you don’t have anything to apologise for… it’s just me and my dumb insecurities.” namjoon coughs and you pop up immediately

“what insecurities?”

“i… i dunno… taehyung is… well, he’s not ugLy, that’s for sure.,., and he seems like he’s pretty well-off with his gucci shoes and his fancy berets.,.,. aNd he seems super smart like i heard him speaking fluent french and yA i can speak french too but not thAt well and whenever i hear him explaining things to you he’s super well spoken and it makes me feel like maybe i… maybe i’m not good enough for-“

“Don’T finish that sentence. don’t!!!” you gawk and furrow your brows

how could he even think that???

“you have absolutely nothing to be insecure about. i don’t like taehyung like that, i like you. i don’t care about his gucci shoes and his french and his fancy terminology.,.,, i only like him because he makes tutoring really fun! i like you, okay? you with your dorky glasses and your grandpa cardigans and your big, big… brain!” you beam at joon and he scoffs and rolls his eyes “if it makes you feel any better i think his cologne is waY too overpowering.”

“huh. that oddly does make me feel a little better.” he hums and you grin before leaning in to give him a kiss

you tilt your head to deepen the kiss and your hand slides up namjoon’s chest to fiddle with his tie

namjoon nudges you off his lap and you’re confused for a split second but then he’s pulling you down so that you can straddle him

“how much time do you have before you have to meet taehyung?” namjoon asks innocently although his hands are not so innocently sliding down your back and getting dangerously close to underneath your skirt

he buries his face into the crook of your neck and starts planting warm kisses on your skin

you glance at his laptop over his shoulder “mm, 20 minutes?” you breathe out and let out a gasp when namjoon bucks his hips slightly

“is the,, uh.,, the act of forgiveness that you owed me for ditching me last week.,.,., is that still a thing?” namjoon pulls away and you nod quickly because YES it is still very much a thing “…u wanna… help me restock some books in the backroom before you leave?”

…u don’t even need to answer that question

taehyung enters the library to see that nobody is at the front desk

you were supposed to meet him by the math building but u didn’t show up.,., so naturally he decided to come to the library

he raises a brow and looks around the empty library

where-

“oh my god, namjoon!”

tae’s eyes pop out of their sockets when the silence is suddenly broken by a very loud moan

is that

is that u

oh my god

“yes, please, oh my god yes-“

…he’s just going to wait outside for you

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

811 notes · View notes

gii-heylittleangel · 6 years ago

Text

Date Night and Confessions

Summary: Dean and Cas have been friends for ten years now; Dean’s crush has only a little less than that. When neither of them take any action, their friends do it for them.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer (mentioned), Garth Fitzgerald IV/Bess Myers (mentioned), Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte (mentioned)

Word Count: 4666

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Squares Filled: Date Night (@spngenrebingo) & Burger (@writersofdestiel)

Hey peeps! I’ve come again with a new fic. I’m filling two squares with this fic, one for @spngenrebingo and one for @writersofdestiel. The amazing @fangirlingtodeath513 beta’ed this for me!

Read on AO3 or keep reading it here!

Dean’s been extremely excited ever since he woke up—which is completely odd, considering that he woke up at 5 am on a Friday to be able to go through his notes before his last big exam, the one that’ll dictate his whole future. But Dean couldn’t care less about it, because it’s Friday and that means one thing: he gets to spend time with Cas, just the two of them, after a whole week of them both being too busy to talk for more than five minutes.

They’ve been friends for ten years now; they met when they were eleven and have been inseparable since then. They lived close during childhood and they were always at each other’s homes whenever possible. They chose to go to the same college, shared a dorm on campus, and decided to live together off-campus when they had conditions to.

Even though they live together, their schedules are a lot different and they’re always stuck studying, leaving hardly any time to talk to one another. They do study in the same room, at least , each with their headphones on and immersed in whatever subject they’re studying. Still, they’re always able to raise their heads and give a smile to the other, happy to have company.

That’s why they decided, a couple of years ago, that they would go out to have burgers every Friday so they could talk to each other, just the two of them. They always go to the Harvelle’s—Jo and her mother own the place and work there—since they have the best burgers in the city. Their table is always ready whenever they get there, and they don’t even need to order; Ellen knows exactly what both of them want.

Dean smiles as he makes his way through the crowd, the happy thoughts taking the place of the anxiety rolling around inside of him. He knows he still needs to get through the day before he gets to go to Harvelle’s, but just having that to look forward to makes him happy.

He gets to his classroom and sees Charlie and Benny in their usual places. They wave at him, so Dean makes his way towards them, letting his things fall on the table. Charlie grins at him.

“Woke up way too early, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Y’know me. At least this is the last exam before we get to go home.”

“For you, brother,” Benny shakes his head, letting his back rest on the chair. “I still have that physics test ’fore I get to go home.”

“And it’s your fault you still need to take it, Benny.”

Benny gives him a glare, making Charlie and Dean laugh. They chat while the class starts to fill and while they wait for the professor.

It doesn’t take long before all the chairs are occupied and the professor comes through the door. The class falls silent in seconds, the nerves of the test atmosphere starting to fall on everyone. The three wish each other good luck before turning to face the professor.

Dean taps the pen on his lower lip as he reads the questions, tuning out the sound of other pens scratching paper around him. Most of the questions he knows easily, being that they’re what he studied the most, but there are some where he spends at least five minutes just reading and rereading the questions to make sure he understood it.

He still manages to finish it rather quickly, practically at the same time as Charlie. They both pretend not to see the ugly face Benny shoots them, controlling their giggles until they’re out of the classroom. They end up in a laughing fit when they’re out of the professor’s sight, supporting each other as they giggle.

“This shouldn’t be so funny,” Charlie says as she tries to get herself back together.

Dean shakes his head, wiping a tear away. “I don’t even know why we’re laughing so hard.”

“It’s ‘cause you two are dumbassess,” Jo’s voice comes from behind them, making them turn. “Why are you two laughing so much?”

Charlie walks to Jo, giving her a kiss. “Oh, just Benny. You had to see the face he gave us ‘cause we finished the exam before he did.”

Jo smiles, putting her arm around Charlie’s waist. “I can imagine. So, you two got any exams yet? Thought we could sit under the trees and talk a little. This last exam killed me.”

Dean shrugs, adjusting his bag. “I have one more class I have to just show up for, but it’s after lunch. I am totally up to a nap under the tree.”

“I’m up too. But to make out with you, not to nap,” Charlie smiles, making Dean groan.

“Good thing I brought my earphones, then.”

“I knew you were still here,” Benny appears in front of them, closing his bag. “What are we doin’?”

“We’re going to the tree, and those two—” Dean points at Charlie and Jo, ”—are going to make out, and I’m gonna take a nap before lunch.”

“Oh, you ain’t sleepin’, chief. I need your help with my physics test.”

Dean groans, throwing his head back as they start walking. “Really? I was so hoping I wasn’t gonna have to look at physics for a while.”

Benny shrugs, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “You’re the best, brother. I just need to grab somethin’ from Kevin and I’ll meet you three there.”

“Oh, Benny!” Benny turns to look at Jo, raising an eyebrow. “Ask Kevin to give you my book. I need it for my test tomorrow.”

“Ain’t a problem, cher.”

Benny walks away as the three of them make their way to the oak tree a few feet from them. Dean sits with his back against the tree, and Charlie and Jo lay by his side.

“So, Dean, you and Cas are gonna have your little date tonight, right?” Charlie waggles her brows at him.

“It’s not a date, Charlie, I told you already.”

Jo scoffs, arching an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, right. You can’t fool us, Dean.”

“I’m not fooling anyone, it’s true. It’s not a date. We just go out to grab burgers and talk.” Jo hums suspiciously. “You’re always there, Jo, you see us. What makes you think we’re on a date?”

“Well, the fact that you two stare at each other with fuckin’ heart eyes, for one. The fact that both of you are annoyingly happy every Friday ‘cause of the date.”

“Oh, and that it’s always only you two,” Charlie chips in. “If we wanna see you pissed off, we just need to show up there and crash your little date night.”

Dean puts a hand on his chest, faking hurt. “I don’t get pissed.” They stare at him with arched eyebrows, so Dean sighs. “I just like that it’s the two of us. We barely see each other since Cas got into medical school. I like having a little time for just the two of us.”

Jo shakes her head. “You two live together, Dean.”

“Yeah, and we hardly see each other even then. Our schedules are completely different. Now, can you two quit bothering me with this and stop finding dates where ain’t any?”

Charlie opens her mouth to speak but Benny appears behind her. “What are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Just Dean and Cas’s little date tonight,” Charlie grins at Benny.

Benny smiles, sitting in front of Dean. “It’s Friday, huh? I had forgotten about that.”

Dean groans, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes. “Why am I friends with you three again?”

Jo laughs. “‘Cause you love us.”

Benny hands Jo her book. “Here, cher. Kevin said he’ll probably come and find ya later ‘cause he needs to ask ya a few things.”

She smiles at him as Benny gives Dean’s leg a slap. “C’mon, brother, I need your help.”

Dean groans again but sits up straight. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Dean and Benny start going through Benny’s notes as Jo and Charlie talk quietly to each other. Dean doesn’t even see the time pass as he helps Benny. Dean can groan and complain as much as he wants, but he loves physics and he loves being able to talk about it for hours, especially when Benny talks about it with the same passion as Dean.

They spend a few hours studying before they manage to go through everything, stopping right before lunch. They wait as everyone starts to come out of their exams, the silence soon giving space to loud chitchat around them. They stay under the tree but start looking for their friends in the middle of the crowd before they go out to have lunch.

It’s not long before Kevin, Cas, Garth, Bess, and Meg show up, and they all go to have lunch. They all talk loudly, laughing at jokes the others tell, and discussing the exams each had in the morning. Dean sees Cas give him a smile from the other end of their group and he gives Cas a smile back, feeling a blush color his neck.

He quickly averts his eyes. Damn it, get it together, Winchester, he only smiled at you. Dean keeps his gaze on the path after that, his blush still heating his face.

They get to the cafeteria and, while Cas and Dean go to get them all a table, the rest go to get their food. They choose the table they normally sit at, farthest from the crowd where they get to talk to each other without screaming and without everyone around them listening in. Dean puts his bag on top of the table along with Cas’s and sits facing the rest of the cafeteria. Cas sits by his side, resting his arms on the table and his head on top of them.

Dean smiles softly, raising his hand to pet Cas’s hair. “Tough morning?”

“Yes. I had one of the hardest tests today and I spent most of the night awake studying for it. I’m so sleepy.”

“Too sleepy for our burgers?”

Cas turns his head to face Dean, a small smile on his lips. “Of course not, Dean. I’m never too tired to go out with you and have burgers.”

Dean’s heart flutters and he tries to keep the blush off of his face. “Yeah, me neither. We can call it an early night today. I’m exhausted too.”

“That would be good. We can always ask Ellen to make our burgers to go, and then we can go home and watch something while we eat.”

Dean doesn’t get to answer because Charlie shows up, throwing her bag on the table and sitting beside Dean. She puts a plate in front of Dean while Jo sits on the other side, handing a plate to Cas. “We brought food for you two ‘cause it’s too crowded there, and I sure as hell know you won’t be able to get anything there now.”

Cas and Dean look at the long line in front of them. “Yeah, we certainly wouldn’t. Thanks, Charlie,” Dean smiles at her, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“Not a problem. I know you all well enough to know what you would want, so I think you’re fine with what I got.”

“And Cas has practically the same taste as you, so I just got him the same,” Jo adds.

Cas smiles at her. “Thank you, Jo.”

The whole gang gets to the table a few minutes later and they all eat between laughter and jokes. Dean’s eyes find their way to Cas’s and he gives him a small smile, barely noticeable. Cas sees it, though, and gives Dean a smile back.

Each of them start to get up and leave as the time for their test get closer. Kevin and Jo are the first ones to leave, after Jo and Charlie give them a show of them making out, followed by Benny, Garth, and Bess. Meg and Cas are chatting while Charlie and Dean start to get up to go to their last class.

Dean puts his bag on his shoulder, turning to Cas. “I’ll meet you at home later?” Cas nods, smiling at him. “Alright, I’ll grab the burgers for us and you find something to watch.”

“It’s a deal.”

Dean smiles at him once more, giving a nod to Meg before he and Charlie leave. He doesn’t fail to notice Meg poking Cas’s ribs with a knowing smile, but he doesn’t have time to think about, since Charlie is already dragging him out of the cafeteria.

Dean tries to ignore the curious look Charlie gives him and he almost manages to get through their entire walk without turning to her, not wanting to give her an opening for whatever she’s about to ask.

It’s only when they get to the door of the classroom that Charlie stops him, forcing him to look at her. “Why has your date changed? What happened?”

Dean sighs, letting his back rest against the wall. “Cas’s too tired so we decided to get the burgers to go and just stay at home, watch somethin’ on TV.”

“Which makes it a whole lot easier for you two to make out, huh?” Charlie smiles mischievously at him.

“Shut up.”

She chuckles as they enter the class and make their way to their chairs. Charlie keeps going on about Dean and Cas’s “date”, and Dean just rolls his eyes and pretends he’s not listening to the graphic details she gives him. She keeps going until the professor enters the classroom and Dean’s red as a pepper, practically begging her to stop. He curses the day that he got drunk and told her about his small crush on Cas. He should’ve known that he would never hear the end of it.

Thankfully, she gives him a rest during the roll call, only sending him looks and wagging her eyebrows. Dean only rolls his eyes dramatically every time he sees the looks, keeping his attention ont whatever the professor’s saying. Maybe not all of his attention, as he’s not sure what exactly she’s talking about, but he’s at least listening.

Time seems to pass considerably slow, which Dean’s sure is a mix of Charlie being Charlie and whatever lecture it is that the professor’s giving them. Dean tries not to look too much at the clock on top of the blackboard or at the watch on his wrist, knowing it won’t make time pass any faster.

He lets his head rest on his hand, keeping his gaze focused on a spot on the blackboard. He knows he should pay attention, but he always has Charlie to fill him in later; that’s what friends are for.

Dean becomes so invested in his thoughts that he almost lets his head fall on the table when Charlie pokes him. “Dude, you okay?”

He blinks a few times, turning to look at her. “Yeah, just wasn’t payin’ attention, What happened?”

“Class’s over. Time for you to go to your date.”

Dean rolls his eyes, starting to gather his things. “It’s not a date, Charlie. We’ve been doing this for two years now, and you just decided to call it a date?”

She shrugs. “It’s ‘cause I didn’t know you were so madly in love with him before. But now that I do, it’s a date. And if it isn’t, you can always turn it into one.” She winks at him.

Dean sighs, standing up and putting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m not madly in love with Cas. I just have a crush.”

“Yeah, for almost ten years. We’re way past crush right now, Dean.”

“No, we’re not. And just ‘cause I have a crush on him doesn’t mean he has a crush on me. And I ain’t gonna jeopardize our friendship, no fuckin’ way.”

Charlie sighs. “Dean, you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

They walk out of the classroom, making their way out of the building. “Charlie, why are you so intent on me turning this into a date?” Dean squints at her. “What are you hiding?”

Charlie makes an innocent face. “I’m not hiding anything. I just want you to be happy and I know it’s Cas who can make you happy. Doesn’t matter how much you try to pretend it isn’t him, with women or other guys.”

“I hate the fact that you know me better than myself. But I still think you’re hiding something.” She smiles innocently at him. “Maybe you’re right. I won’t ever know unless I take a chance.”

Charlie claps his arm. “That’s my boys. I wanna know all about it after but now I gotta run. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She smiles one last time and walks away. “Charlie!” He yells before she gets too far away. She turns back to him. “Thank you!”

She gives him a nod and Spock’s sign before leaving. Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. He probably needs to come up with a plan if he wants to do it right, but Dean’s never been great with plans; they never end up going how he wants them to and, in the end, he always goes with his gut. So he’s probably gonna do that instead of wasting time on a plan.

He starts to make his way to Harvelle’s, waving at the friends he comes across. There are a bunch of people walking the same way as he is, the chatter around him growing. He shouldn’t be surprised; practically everyone likes to go there on Fridays to get rid of the stress of the week. Ellen’s a damn smart son of a bitch; Harvelle’s is always crowded with students because of the low prices and the nice ambiance there, and it’s the closest place to campus.

There aren’t many people when Dean gets there, mostly just who got out early or didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day. Ellen and Ash are on the counter, Bobby on one of the stools talking to them. Dean sits by his side, smiling at Ellen.

“Thought you would be here, Bobby.”

He turns to him. “Where else would I get an edible burger, boy?”

Ellen hits him with the hand towel. “You won’t find a nicer burger than here, old man.” Bobby scowls at her, but with fondness in his eyes. She turns to Dean with a smile. “The usual, kid?”

“Yeah, but to go, please. Me and Cas decided to stay home today.”

“You’re both exhausted, huh? Jo’s the same. Gave her the weekend off so she can rest.”

Dean nods. “That’s why Charlie’s so chipper. She gets Jo for the whole weekend.”

Ellen smiles. “Yeah, let ‘em rest a little. I’ll get your order ready in no time.”

“Thanks, Ellen.”

She taps his arm before walking to the kitchen. Ash grabs a beer bottle, opening and sliding it through the counter to Dean. “On me.”

Dean nods, taking a sip of the beer. Ash does the same with his—hiding it from Ellen—and he, Dean, and Bobby start talking. Dean lets the tension melt from his shoulders as he talks with them, feeling lighter with their talk. Count on them to make him feel better without even trying.

Forty minutes later, Ellen is putting a bag in front of Dean. “Here, kid, on the house today.” Dean opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him, “Just accept it. I ain’t taking any money from you. Now go before they get cold.”

Dean chuckles but takes the bag. “Thanks, Ellen, you’re the best.”

He gives her a kiss on the forehead before standing up. He downs the rest of his beer, placing the bottle on the counter with a thud. He claps Bobby on the shoulder and nods to Ash before leaving. His and Cas’s place isn’t far from there, so he decides to walk the mile there. He sees Benny and Andrea walking to their apartment and gives them a wave. They wave back, both with big, goofy smiles on their lips.

Dean can’t help but think if it was him and Cas like that. It could be if everything goes well tonight, which Dean really hopes it does.

It doesn’t take long before he gets to the apartment, where he spots Cas and Meg lingering in front of it. Dean frowns, wondering why she’s there. They seem to stop talking suddenly when they see Dean, which confuses him even more, but he decides to let it slide.

Cas smiles nervously at him, rubbing a hand on the back his neck. “Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas. Hey, Meg.”

She smiles at him before turning to Cas. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget what I told you.”

She walks away before Dean gets to ask what she’s talking about. He turns to Cas, arching an eyebrow. “What did she tell you?”

“No-nothing, nothing important,” Cas stammers a little, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “Should we head up?”

Dean squints at Cas but nods. “Yeah, we don’t wanna eat these cold. Ellen would kill us.”

Cas chuckles softly and they walk up to the apartment. Cas takes the bag from Dean’s hand when they get to the elevator, opening it to get to the fries inside. Dean bats his hand away.

“We’re almost there, stop stealing the fries already.”

“But I’m hungry,” Cas pleads, making his best puppy eyes.

Dean sighs. “Why can’t I ever win when you use those?”

Cas smiles, taking a fry from the bag. He shoves it in his mouth and searches for another. He offers it to Dean, putting it in front of his mouth. Dean chuckles before opening his mouth and letting Cas feed him the fry.

They’re extremely crunchy and good, just like everything Ellen makes. Cas steals a few more as they walk to the door and Dean unlocks it. They throw their bags by the door, taking their shoes off. Cas walks to the TV while Dean goes to the kitchen to grab them a beer. He listens as Cas fumbles with the TV controller to find something for them to watch.

Dean takes two beer bottles from the fridge, stopping to look at the pictures on it after he closes the door. There are a lot where it’s just Dean and Cas, both of them with smiles on their faces; there are some of Sam and Dean when they go home for the holidays—Jo’s in practically all of them since they always go to Bobby and Ellen’s house; there are pictures of the whole gang in Dean and Cas’s living room, from when they get together to drink and play video games—practically every Saturday they can.

Dean smiles before walking back to the living room; maybe he’ll get to have a picture of him and Cas as a couple there in no time. He sees Cas sitting on one end of the couch, legs spread across the other seats, surfing through the channels. Dean gives him one of the bottles as Cas raises his legs for Dean to sit.

Cas places his legs on Dean’s lap once Dean sits, giving him the bag with the burgers. Dean takes both of them out, giving one of them to Cas. He takes the box with the fries—Ellen really knows them—and places it on Cas’s lap so they can both eat it. Cas settles on Brooklyn 99 for them to watch, which Dean’s totally fine with, he freaking loves this show.

They watch and eat in silence, only laughing at the show sometimes. Their hands brush every time they reach for the fries. Dean swears he sees Cas blushing a few times but pretends not to notice it, not knowing what to think of it.

Dean starts to get restless once they finish eating, his hands sweating where they’re resting on Cas’s legs. He knows he should say something but he doesn’t even know how to start on the subject. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, never having enough courage to actually say something.

The show’s four episodes in when Dean turns to Cas. “Cas—”

“Dean—”

They stop talking when they hear the other speak. They chuckle lightly, Dean rubbing the back of his neck. “You go, Cas.”

“Uh, I-I wanted to talk to you about something important, Dean.” Dean frowns but nods. Cas takes a deep breath before he starts talking again, “I know we’ve known each other for a long time and I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship, but I need to be honest with you.”

Dean straightens his back, turning to face Cas, fear puckering his forehead. “What is it, Cas? What happened?”

“I-I, uh, I kind of have a,” Cas pauses, licking his lips, “I have a crush on you, Dean.”

Cas closes his eyes, seemingly afraid of how Dean may react. Dean’s mouth opens as he starts to process what Cas just said. Cas has a crush on him. Castiel fucking Novak actually has a crush on him, Dean Winchester.

Dean’s lips start to form a smile against his will. Cas opens one of his eyes, like he’s waiting for Dean to storm out, but he tilts his head when he sees Dean smiling. Cas opens his mouth to say something but Dean throws himself on top of him, crushing their lips together. Their first kiss is weird—too much teeth, an uncomfortable position, and their lips don’t quite align.

Dean backs away a little, letting Cas’s legs fall on either of his sides, and puts his hands on Cas’s sides. He smiles at Cas, lowering himself again. This time, their kiss is better—Cas’s lips seem to mold against Dean’s, Cas’s hand going to Dean’s hair, grabbing it and allowing them to deepen the kiss. Dean has no words to describe how good it feels to finally be able to kiss Cas.

Cas’s tongue wets Dean’s lower lip and he opens his mouth. Dean loses track of time as he kisses Cas, his mind not quite working for anything else. Cas hums against his mouth, his legs circling Dean’s waist and pressing them together. Dean lets his hands roam Cas’s body freely, all of his senses filled with Cas and Cas alone.

They almost fall on the floor when someone clears their throat behind them, forcing them to break apart. Dean’s eyes are wide when they see all of their friends around them with matching smiles on their faces. Dean turns to look at Cas, who looks as lost and confused as he is.

Charlie’s the first one to speak, “I can’t believe you two finally got your heads out of your assess and decided to confess to each other.” She and Meg high five, smiling. Dean frowns, not knowing what to do. “You had help, obviously, but good to know you two decided to follow our advice.”

“Wait,” Cas cuts her off. “You two were behind this?” He looks at Meg. “Is that why you insisted that I should talk to Dean?”

Meg smiles and nods. “Yeah, of course. Me and Charlie have been planning this for days, and we thought today would be a great day to do it.”

Dean shakes his head. “I can’t believe you two did this.”

Charlie shrugs. “Didn’t seem like you two were ever going to, so we thought you needed a little help.”

Jo throws herself on top of them, screaming happily, “I’m so happy for you two!!”

Everyone cheers around them and eventually decide that they should also throw themselves on top of the two. Dean huffs at the weight on top of him, the shouts of their friends filling his ears. When he turns to look at Cas, seeing him smiling so widely, Dean can’t find in himself to care; he’s just as happy as Cas and their friends are.

#littleangelwrites #destiel fic #spngenrebingo #dean winchester #castiel #fanfic #my fic #collegeAU

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tessatechaitea · 6 years ago

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Justice League Dark #15

Don't worry. This review won't concentrate on Detective Chimp's butthole. Probably.

It always surprises me when somebody criticizes my comic book review site as being biased. I mean, yeah! I never claimed it wasn't going to be biased. But the people who accuse me of bias always do so when I critique something they love. Nobody ever stands up for the things they hate when I shit all over them in an obviously biased and subjective way! At times like that, they simply respond, "Yeah! Ann Nocenti's mother's vagina was a portal from some hell dimension where random statements with no thematic connectivity are regarded as high art! Now Tweet directly at her and call her a nasty name!" What I'm trying to say is that I understand how people think. I once listened to that one Simon and Garfunkel song that says, "A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest. Mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmmm mmmmmmmmm." How come the music producer didn't tell Si and Gar to not enjoy their delicious packed lunches in the middle of recording?

I'm sure I'm not the first to notice this but it made me laugh out loud for quite a while when I cropped the cover of Bridge Over Troubled Water.

I should publish all of my reviews in a manner that shows a side-by-side comparison of the review I set out to write and the review that winds up getting written. Because everything after the first sentence of the first paragraph was the train already derailed. Instead of bitching and moaning about the bias of people complaining about my bias, my brain immediately had to admit to its own bias! Stupid brain. You're supposed to hide my vulnerabilities and weaknesses to help me survive in this travesty of an attempt at polite society! How I didn't get the shit beaten out of me every other day in junior high I'll never know. No, wait. I do know how that happened. The few times people attempted to tease me, they were frustrated by either my lack of notice that they were making fun of me or my super aggressive flip-the-fuck out whirl of arms and fists and tears and screams. There were victims out there who both reacted appropriately and weren't deadly tornadoes of incomprehensible rage built up by an inability to understand how all of this human interaction was supposed to work! Sure, point out that I'm picking my nose in front of everybody but I didn't realize you were saying it to humiliate me! My nose needed picking and what was I supposed to do? Pretend, just like everybody else, that nobody picks their nose?! Okay, sure, maybe I could have realized I could have picked it in the bathroom or used a tissue or cared at all about how it looked to do it right there in front of everybody. I had the capacity to understand that because I certainly didn't jerk off in public! Usually. See that? Did you witness my brain's betrayal just when I was calling out my brain's betrayal?! Don't tell people about my habit of picking my nose in public, you stupid squishy Judas! Just do what I tell you to do, asshole! No offense, asshole. You do everything just right. You're my second favorite body part. Goddammit, brain. If you ask me to Google "chimpanzee butthole" one more time, I will stab you through my eye! I am not doing it! Who am I kidding? I'm only human. I'll definitely be Googling "chimpanzee butthole" at some point today. So Justice League Dark! Some paladin character I don't remember from the previous issue notices that there's an eclipse happening and he was just reviewing "astrological charts" which didn't reveal an eclipse was due. Bobo decides to argue with him.

I don't think Occam's Razor states, "If I can think of anything at all that's a way more mundane explanation than the one you have, my explanation must be the correct one." It's a little more complicated than "That sounds crazy therefore Occam's Razor states you're crazy or incompetent."

I'm not an expert on Occam's Razor so Occam's Razor states my explanation of it is probably incompetent or crazy. Oh, the paladin was Doctor Fate sans helmet. I wish I hadn't been circumcised so I could call my unerect penis Kent Nelson and my erect penis Doctor Fate. Anybody who follows me on Twitter is going to think they've already read this review because I just keep tweeting out all of my jokes from it. Oh fuck you! There have definitely been at least three actual jokes so far! Man-Bat looks at the eclipse and begins thinking up a new formula. Occam's Razor says he's incompetent and crazy but I bet he just came up with a new Eclipso transformation formula just by looking at the dark moon. Is that how science works? You come up with a crazy idea first and then it's just a matter of mixing a few stupid chemicals to make that idea reality? Because if so, Eureka! I just came up with a serum that will allow me to suck my own dick! Diana gives Zatanna and Doctor Fate a tour of her underground archive of magical objects.

I often give James Tynion IV a hard time but he can't be all Snyder-toadie theater nerd if he included the Ace of Winchesters in Diana's treasure hoard.

Diana's most dangerous item is Eclipso's black diamond. I'm currently rereading the 90s Eclipso comic book which was touted in the letters pages as being the first open-ended comic book focusing on a villain. I guess Deathstork didn't count even though he was an unrepentant pedophile. The series ran for 18 issues but I think I gave up on it around issue #6. Swamp Things heads off to find Circe via The Green but instead he finds Jason Woodrue, the new Flower Elemental, making a deal with the Parliament of Flowers to make the world pretty. Swamp Thing tries to stop him but Woodrue infects him with The Rot. So now he can't do anything but decompose while Detective Chimp and Doctor Fate Lite (Khalid!) try to find Abby Arcane to help him. But before they can even begin that quest, Man-bat walks in with the new serum he easily invented because the hard part of science is the imagination to come up with the invention. His new invention is a Man-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat-bat serum and it works terrifically!

Or terribly? I think it's a success. But maybe not.

Everybody seems to think Man-bat is under some kind of spell but they seem to have forgotten that he's insane. Unless we can't trust Batman's judgment on who is insane and who isn't. I mean, according to Batman, every villain that runs a gang is crazy and every thug in a gang is a criminal. Man-bat was kind of a lone criminal so maybe he's only crazy in the way all scientists are crazy? Is that a thing? I mean, Beakman was pretty fucking loony but Bill Nye seemed sane. Those are the only scientists I know. Diana, Doctor Fate, and Zatanna begin a ritual using Eclipso's black diamond to teleport Diana to the moon where she can find the center of Hecate's power. I don't know if the creative team remembered how the 90s comic had Eclipso existing between panels to narrate or if their rendition of the ritual was just a happy accident because showing him trapped in the Black Diamond just translates into Eclipso stuck between borders.

Either way, kudos. Love this page. And I don't often mention when I love art and layout so you know I'm being completely earnest here!

Wonder Woman makes it to the moon but it's haunted by something terrible. I don't know what that something is. I guess I'll find out next issue if I remember to purchase Justice League Dark #16. Justice League Dark #15 Rating: B. I like a lot of stuff going on this comic book because I like the characters so much. The creative team is doing a decent job although I'm not blown away. I'm not sure I get blown away by many comic books anymore. It's especially hard to think, "Justice League Dark really makes an insightful impact in the comic book landscape" when I'm also reading Chris Ware's Rusty Brown in which that kind of thing is happening every few pages. Maybe I shouldn't even compare the two! Just because they're using the same medium to tell their story it doesn't mean they should be given equal weight. One is mainstream entertainment and one is high art! I think. Maybe the mainstream comic is just telling a tense and action packed story and the high art comic just makes me feel like shit. So it's obvious why I think it must be high art! Anyway, go read Rusty Brown! It's terrific! And if you want to read this, it's worth it at 1994 comic book prices. So see if you can haggle this shit down to a buck seventy-five or so.

#Justice League Dark #DC Comics #DC #James Tynion IV #Alvaro Martinez #Raul Fernandez

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ceylon-tae · 5 years ago

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Part 3 of 4 This was going to be a footnote on Part 2 but I have strong feelings about this. A previous version of this post used the term “DDNOS” ( dissociative disorder not otherwise specified) because in 2019, I only had an updated copy of the DSM-IV. In 2020 I obtained a copy of the DSM-V and realized the category name was changed to “OSDD” (other specified dissociative disorder). I want to make a point of talking about PTSD and Dissociative Identities. I don’t know what specific kinds of content warnings to put on this. Um. I’m going to talk about other people reacting to DID/OSDD/DDNOS and things that look like it, my experience with dissociation, parts, and recovery. I worked on it a lot this year. Disclaimer that I am not a trained professional, but I HAVE lived with OSDD ever since I can remember, I have been diagnosed, and going through this workbook I mentioned in Part 2 has made a lot of things click into place. I have OSDD and not DID because I don’t ‘lose time’ where I don’t at least know what happened (a requirement for a DID diagnosis in the DSM). This was originally a very long, very angry rant, but I can sum it up in two parts: Dear people who don’t have a dissociative disorder and Dear People who do have a dissociative disorder

The first part is directed at people without DID who are inclined to say: “People who talk to themselves are creepy, lol you're fictionkin? Cringe” DID and other dissociative disorders are responses to trauma. Most people you’ll see talking to various parts of themselves are not faking it. They’re working with what they have. It’s far more normal than you think. If you think that’s cringe, consider shutting the fuck up, growing some fucking compassion, and minding your own fucking business. Don’t harass strangers about it. The second part is directed at people with DID who are inclined to say: ”But some people fake having it because it’s trendy, or try to force themselves to have it, and kinnies make us look bad” Cool I don’t care, you don’t harass strangers about it. Of course having to deal with dismissive or ignorant randos on the internet is exhausting. Trolls and attention-seekers are a drag. It sucks. But there’s assholes and morons everywhere, of every stripe, with every ‘excuse’. Block them. If they’re young and ignorant? You don’t have to educate them. You can block them. There are also people all over this website who would rather commiserate than actually try recovery. That’s sad. But it’s also not your problem. I was over 30 by the time I realized PTSD and dissociation were the medical names for what I was experiencing. If you had told me, as a teenager, that my dissociative disorder was a symptom of PTSD and “please go to therapy”, I would have probably reacted very negatively to that. Partly because I'd have already been in and out of therapy since I was 9, and I would’ve been under no obligation to tell you that. It’s not that my therapist was bad, or that she didn’t know how to treat me. She admitted she simply didn’t want me to feel “broken” since I was already handling it and re-connecting my parts pretty well. But my mental health has been struggling the past few years. In 2019, I needed to know. Now I know. The teenager out there with the upbeat roleplay blog who insists their incredibly important fictionkin / headmate / etc. has “nothing to do” with PTSD? That kid might well have PTSD and not know it. Do NOT say they’re faking it. Do NOT tell them to stop. Do NOT tell them to go to therapy and get a diagnosis, or to get a “better” coping mechanism. Unless they’re a fake account intentionally created to mock DID (like many fake accounts acephobes create to mock asexuality), it’s NOT your problem. Their recovery is also not your problem. If you don’t know them personally, it’s not your problem. Save your concern-trolling, don’t screencap that shit, and mind your own fucking business. Furthermore, fictional parts or alters or ‘headmates’ or whatever else you call them are extremely common. Lots of people reading might already know this. Oftentimes when a kid lived in a terrifying situation for a long time, the only place they saw safety and caring was in a fictional story, and they needed that in their life. That’s also the reason why fictional alters are usually the parts that care for or protect other parts. Although there are toxic ways to use this coping mechanism, it is not a “bad” coping mechanism itself. It’s a good one. Ask Boon, Steele, and Van Der Hart if you don’t believe me (Boon, S., Steele, K.,& Van Der Hart, O. (2011). Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.). If you try to slap that out of their hands because you simply don’t like it, fuck you. That’s the short version. :) Okay enough being mad, let’s talk about ways that having / recovering with a dissociative disorder doesn’t have to be Constant Suffering 24/7/365 If you want to write down the conversations you’re having with yourself, for any reason, please don’t be scared do that. It’s probably much safer if you write them down on paper rather than putting them online, but I’m not your mom. When you write down your conversations, all parts of you can see it right there on the page if one of you is being mean to another part of you. That way, it’s easier to try to change that behavior. It can keep those parts of you accountable. If you’re discussing a topic you personally struggle with, and happen to think of a good solution together, writing it down also means you can read it later and remember how you “worked out this issue” before. It can be a record of your successes. And later, you can reread them and see how much you’ve grown. If some parts don’t want to talk to you, or if there are parts who give you problems, there is real help you can get for that. You CAN work on that. Again, this is the workbook I’ve been using this year. It is very in-depth: Boon, S., Steele, K.,& Van Der Hart, O. (2011). Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. One of my other friends (who was ALSO diagnosed with PTSD and DID in her thirties) has recommended me this workbook which I’ve bought but not started. It mentions parts but is mainly focused on Complex PTSD: Shwartz, Arielle. (2016). The Complex PTSD Workbook. Berkeley, Althea Press. Also here, have a relevant image from Wikipedia in this really long text post:

If someday (even just for a little while), you forget that there were ever parts of you that you felt disconnected from? Fucking superb, you beautiful kintsugi. Here’s the part where I soapbox more. “Recovery” should NOT mean “never mentioning your separate selves again”. It definitely shouldn’t mean you have to stop talking to any of your parts. The goal should be to get all of your parts working together in harmony, not forcibly reducing you to one melody. Heck, here’s a third metaphor that means a lot to me personally. When I’m at my best it, feels like I’m mixing different colors to get just the right hue appropriate to the situation. It’s not that the paint bottles don’t exist anymore - I’m just not stuck painting from just one or two bottles, and I don’t have to paint straight from the bottles anymore either. Boon, Steele, and Van Der Hart literally call it “blending”. I’d been doing it (and using this metaphor) long before reading that but imagine my excitement reading that. Sweet validation. If you’re just starting working with your parts, that can come later. Step #1 is having all your parts acknowledge each other, and talk to each other. Then you try to get better at cooperating together. You’ll do your best to make sure no one gets overwhelmed, and make sure everyone’s needs are met in a feasible manner. And see if you can do a better job at comforting each other. That’s not me soapboxing, that’s straight from the book. If you can do that much, that's a huge step forward to a healthier life. I’m so fucking proud of you. Dissociating and losing time sucks. Being “plural” or whatever you want to call it doesn’t have to suck. Every part of you deserves to feel this good, this connected, and cooperative. Recovery isn’t easy. Even when they give you a workbook with simple prompts and “fill in your own answer” pages. (Which I have.) Even if you think “oh but I already know myself(s) and we’re all fine” but you seem to be struggling in other areas of your mental health (which was me), I guarantee you there will be shit you didn’t know about yourself(s). And it can only get better after you address it, hopefully with professional help. I’m saying you’re doing a bad job on your own, but if you think you could be doing better, go for it. It will be uncomfortable, but whatever little steps you can take (without destabilizing yourself), it’s FUCKING WORTH IT. Notes: Boon, S., Steele, K.,& Van Der Hart, O. (2011). Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. Currently finishing up this workbook so yeah I’m really excited about it

#i don't have a 2019 art retrospective #i have a mental health retrospective #that was still really long #ddnos #osdd #did #also the idea that did is caused by therapy is bullshit #i went to therapy at 9 years old for anxiety and aggression #and depression #i never did any memory recovery treatments in therapy #i started writing down my conversations when i was 11 #i don't think i told my therapist about them until i was at least 15 #i told my sister and she thought it was creepy so i stopped telling anyone #she'd just read sybil and that is a WHOLE NOTHER can of worms lmao #but apparently i have no shame about it anymore so here this is

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 years ago

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I'm a bit embarrassed to ask this. Have you ever read a fic that, stylistically, it's beautiful, linguistically it's tight, and it's obvious the author poured their whole self into constructing the plot, crafting the world, and nailing down the characterizations, but... You just don't get it? Like, perhaps there's some insight you're missing, and it's almost there, you think maybe you're close to getting what the author is trying to portray, but you just can't make the connection necessary?

(Embarrassed nonny continued) You even reread to make sure you didn’t skip anything, but it’s like it just seems that something missing? Or that you’re the one missing something vital? So you go to the comments to see if anyone else is confused, but all you see are lovely, supportive compliments about how beautiful the story is (and it is), or how heartwrenching it is (usually so). But you seem to be the only one not getting it?

(Embarrassed nonny cont. again) Is it destructive to let the author know that I think a story is beautiful in it’s telling, but that I don’t quite understand it? I don’t want to offend the author, who has clearly worked very hard, and I appreciate them so much. But, I want to understand the story they’re telling, even if I’m the only one not getting it. If that even makes any sense. P.S.- thanks for always taking time to listen to fandom woes and fielding requests. You’re a champion! ❤

Hi Nonny!

First of all, there’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about! Stories are partly about authorial intent, and partly about reader interpretation; no two people will interpret a story the same, and no author SHOULD expect a reader to interpret their story exactly as the author intended. SHERLOCK is a perfect example of this (the writers SAY they meant it to be one thing and literally the ENTIRE FANDOM is divided on what’s actually being shown on screen), or if you want to be more classical, the works of Shakespeare as well.

In fact, Shakespeare is a perfect example of your problem: I love Shakespeare: it’s beautifully written, it sounds lovely to the ear, and it invokes imagery based on how someone interprets it. But I sure as heck have NO idea what I read until someone explained it to me, or how I SHOULD have interpreted it (which, is oxymoronic to my point, I know…). Only after I hear how someone else interpreted the work, I can then RE-READ a work and begin to understand what was meant by it, and then develop my own interpretations.

I’ve read a few fics by a couple authors in this fandom where I LOVED their writing, but I had NO idea what was happening until I re-read the fics… it’s a reading comprehension thing with me, I’m sure (my brain tends to move a bit quicker than I can read and talk, and in turn it also tends to wander when my eyes aren’t going fast enough, LOL), but a lot of times, if I just read a fic a second time I can then grasp the words my brain omitted the first time and then really enjoy and love the fic. I hate that about me, but that’s how my brain works… Perhaps it may be the same with your brain? If a fic is well written and you enjoyed it but just had some comprehension issues, perhaps a second read-through will help you as it has done with me :)

So, now to answer your question: if after reading a fic, and you don’t understand it, is it okay to ask the authorial intent of the story? Unfortunately, there is no yes-or-no answer to this question, Lovely, as every author is different. Personally – and this is just for me speaking, and what I would do or what I would not mind if I were the author – I think it’s alright, so long as you are respectful to them! Dig around their user pages and you can often find ways to interact with the author outside of their fics, or information about whether or not they want to read criticism etc. on their stories. If an author doesn’t want any interaction, they’ll be very clear about it, but most authors have ways to get in touch with them, so to ME that’s a saying “hey, if you have any questions, here’s how to get a hold of me!”.

If they have a Tumblr with asks turned on, you can even do it like you have done for me here; write exactly what you mentioned, just tweak a few things: Mention how much you love their prose and their storytelling, and you can really feel how much love they put into the story. You found it interesting, though you’re unclear on a few parts. Ask them kindly how they intended for an audience to read it. Many creators appreciate honesty when talking about their works, so just be honest and say that you didn’t understand something and wouldn’t mind a bit of clarification about something. They can’t fault you for not understanding something, and if they do, well… I find that rather ableist, in my opinion: That’s like telling someone with dyslexia to just stop mixing up letters, or someone who’s native language isn’t English to just learn one of the most complex languages in the world with so many structure rules that make no sense half the time…. *shrugs* It’s harsh of me to say, I am sorry about that, writers, but reading comprehension doesn’t come easily for everyone.

ANYWAY, back to my point: An author, so long as you are respectful (and maybe peppering in some compliments and praise never hurts either… a lot of us creative-types have praise kinks) and don’t throw a backhanded compliment (like don’t say: “Your work is so amazing! Though I think you should make it easier for people to understand it, your words are too complex”), they will be more than happy to write out their intent for the story. Let them know it’s YOU who’s not understanding (so, “I have trouble understanding this part” as opposed to “you should make this work easier to read for everyone”… make the onus on YOU). DON’T be demanding (like, don’t say something that can be interpreted as “it’s YOUR responsibility to cater to MY need to understand”), and be patient for a reply.

You can see why this isn’t an easy yes-or-no answer, LOL.

Essentially, kindness begets kindness, and respect begets respect. And – this isn’t an attack on you personally with regards to this ask, because I know my audience are adorably shy beans – it might be a show of good faith and intentions to stay off anon when you ask your question; it shows the author that you aren’t being malicious, just simply a smol bean who loves stories and want to learn more about theirs. BUT, it IS okay to stay on-anon if you are shy / worried about not the author but other people interpreting it the wrong way, just make sure you tailor your question to the author in a respectful way that it comes across as respect. Perhaps something like this:

Hi, [author]! I really love your story, [story title]! It’s well-written and I can really tell how much you love this story and how much soul you put into it. I just had a question for you with regards to [name concern here]. [state question here]. I have trouble sometimes with [reading comprehension, English/language, dyslexia, etc.], and I would love to know what your ideas and thought process was for [character, plot point, situation, etc.]. Understanding what the author intended really helps me enjoy the stories even more than I already did, and your thoughts would be really helpful for when I re-read your story! Thank you so much for your time, and thank you for blessing us with this beautiful story!

Or something like that, LOL. And if you genuinely aren’t a native-language speaker, let them know that it’s not your first language so you’re just honestly not grasping a colloquialism that’s common in English but not in, say, German. It’s more common than you think! I’ve had people ask me in private before about a phrase I’ve written or about how they should interpret a meta of mine; I’ve never taken insult upon it, and in fact I love helping people understand my work so that they can enjoy other peoples’ content in the future.

As an additional thought I just had, I think a good example of fandom-understanding-authors is, actually, the @johnlockficclub; every couple months or so we read new stories, and then at the end of the story, we ask authors our questions about their intent of the stories, and in turn the author gets an interesting (I hope) insight into how various people interpreted their stories. Even during the live-chats leading up to the author q-and-a, we all see how we each interpreted certain sections of the chapters we read that week, and see various viewpoints we never considered. So I think that is a wonderful way to see authorial intent vs. reader interpretation, and as far as I know, all the authors we’ve “interviewed” loved just getting that kind of feedback for their stories. You should join in on at least the author interviews just to see how they go and give you some ideas on how an author will take feedback. It’s so fascinating to me!

Just a fun little anecdote that oftentimes, it is a positive experience for an author because most of them love to talk about their stories – their stories are their children, and they care deeply for them, because it’s a part of them, and it’s an expression of their love. They WANT you to understand and enjoy their work. It’s a cyclical thing: if you understand their children so you can love them too, then they will love their fanbase and will want to continue to write since they received feedback that was validating to them that they produce work that people enjoy and want to know more about.

Finally, I’d love for some authors to weigh in on their thoughts about this; would you be offended if someone loved your story but would want your clarification on some things, or want to know how you intended for the audience to perceive it? Please let us know!

Sorry this answer was so long, but I hope it helps! <3 I love you Nonny, and I love all our fandom creators for giving us their works! <3

P.S. Aww, you’re far too kind, Nonny! <3 I know my opinion isn’t always welcome, but when it is, I appreciate it and love y’all for validating me. XD

#steph replies #my advice #fan fiction #authorial intent vs reader interpretation #my thoughts #Anonymous

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gayestnerdsinfiction · 6 years ago

Note

You’re one of my favorite writers I’ve ever encountered during my two decades on this planet. I could go on and on about what I love about your writing and story telling style but these msgs don’t give nearly enough room for that. Ive reread many of your fics over&over again and think of them outside the internet. I’ve had your blog notifications turned on since I started following but I took a break from tumblr for a while so I haven’t been keeping up as much. It makes me very sad that you (1)

have fallen out of love with fanfic & u feel that people aren’t appreciating your writing recently. I’m out of state at the moment so I’ve only read a few chapters of iata so far but as soon as I’m home I’m reading all of it and I can already guarantee I’m going to love it. I wish I weren’t only one person so I could give your writing the exposure and recognition it deserves. (2)

Even if you decide to stop writing or updating this blog in the future I hope you know I deeply appreciated your writing. Your presence on the internet has been a blessing!! I’m sorry you’re feeling discouraged lately but remember that your writing is for you, don’t ever let it be a source of unhappiness. I will never know you but nonetheless I adore and admire you bcs of this blog. I could go in and on but I’ll only get more cheesy. Thank you for everything ❤️❤️❤️ I wish the best for you (3)

ahbdshfgsfh thank you so much that truly is such a kind and heartwarming thing to hear in these trying times. and i just want to take a moment to say that i know i bitch and moan a lot but the feedback i DO get is usually positive and like every once in a while ppl do send nice messages and stuff to tell me that they like my writing and i want all those ppl to know that they do not go unnoticed or unappreciated! i see u and i love u all and i am so honored that u read and enjoy my work

i do still like writing fanfic and i probably won’t give up on it entirely (i have a couple half finished good omens oneshots tucked away in a notebook that i need to get around to finishing and typing up) but at the same time i really want to branch out and work on my skills as a writer and come up with my own original ideas and stuff like that but there just doesn’t seem to be as much of a place for original writing on tumblr and i haven’t been able to find writing communities/websites that aren’t mainly focused on or populated with fic writers. and i’ve never really been that popular on tumblr even when i was solely writing fic so i suppose i shouldn’t be surprised that an original story that’s shaping up to be very long and weirdly biblical isn’t all that appealing to the couple hundred ppl that followed me for scriddler writing haha.

at the end of the day like i KNOW that my writing is for me and social media doesn’t matter or whatever but it is very demotivating to put my best efforts and attention and energy into something that i’m passionate about and interested in and then...... like no one reads it. if u look at my ao3 it has the least kudos and hits of anything i’ve ever posted (except one random unfinished thing that i didn’t even realize was still on there and i just deleted bc i’m never going to finish it lol). and thats a sad thing to see! it makes me sad when i look at the notes on a post and it has 2 likes and 6 reblogs that are all from me and my various other blogs.

like this is an idea that i’ve been messing around with and trying to write for years and i finally figured out an iteration of it that mostly works and that i’m proud of and want to keep writing but i have no one to share it with. and i can’t talk to anyone about it because no one’s read it and i am having a very hard time trying to persuade anyone to read it. and then it feels like... like why am i putting all this effort into something that’s just going to end up sitting on my computer forever?

i don’t want to stop updating this blog but like. posting things and getting no response makes me feel like shit but i can’t control what people think or do so i’ve either got to stop caring (which probably won’t happen any time soon) or stop posting.

idk this was a very long, very “woe is me” response to a series of very sweet messages but the point is i probably won’t be gone for good and if you do want to read my weird novel-ish thing that i’m working on i’ll continue to post it on ao3, but this blog will be less active because I’m mostly focusing on continuing iata before i move onto other projects. i’ll keep reblogging fanart and fanfic and such (with some of my own fic thrown in if i’m inspired) but like i’m gonna work on the projects i want to work on and if no one wants to read them then they’ll just have to wait until i want to write the kind of thing they want to read which may not be for a while.

thanks for everyone who’s been supportive of this blog and my writing! i would literally die for u <3

#long post #rambles #brief-creation #ask

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jjungkookislife · 3 years ago

Text

hello! I have a lot to SCREAM about with this chapter!

RYEN! right off the bat, something about the keys being a poor substitute hit me in the chest, especially when he says OC would have made sure he didn’t leave empty-handed!

Yoongi nods, holding some coffee in one hand and what was supposed to be food in the other—car keys being the useless substitute. Since he was so caught up in his headspace, he completely forgot to make food, stretching the already long day just a bit longer.

If you were there, you definitely would’ve made sure he didn’t go empty-handed.

OOh the flASHBACKS, I’ll definitely be rereading (and sobbing) those chapters soon! especially now that i KNOW what outfit he was wearing! what a menace!

But it’s getting hard for him not to be relieved to see you later. Not after how cute you sounded on the phone after the party. Not after seeing you in a sundress.

Not after legitimately missing your company.

this scene is so hot! like just imaginig them so focused in the studio! it reminds me of the gifs ive seen when they’re working on ddaeng ( okay i finally went to watch the video and yes definitely screaming over them looking so hot and focused and fuck okay lol) and then realizing i was wrong and it’s not hobi or joon as the brother! i lowkey suspected joon as well but hobi more so!

Namjoon stands resolute before coming to some decision. “Again.”

Both of them listen intently until the playback stops, their agitation visible in shoulder raises and slow steps toward the console.

“You hear it?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok deepens his brows for a pass before tilting his head, tone just as low as Joon’s. “The hell is that?”

PLEASE THIS MAN IS SO FINE and for WHAT????

Who is he kidding? He didn’t come to the studio to rest. He wants in.

Interrupting with a raspy morning voice of his own, he asks, “What’s up?”

Namjoon doesn’t turn as he bends to operate his mouse. “Something sounds off, but.” He tsks. “When we try to adjust, it sounds worse.”

“Run it back.”

QUADrouple texting out of nervousness! MOOD

The only messages he got were from both people present, with one asking if anyone else got updates and the other quadruple texting out of nervousness.

joon worried for his friend, i love him!

All of them turn to see Jungkook enter, a bit out of sorts as the door closes with a solid click.

“You were out there for awhile,” Namjoon points out, already looking back at his monitor. “What was that about?“

I absolutely CACKLED I LOVE THEM

Amusement leaves Yoongi in a puff. “You didn’t throw your phone?”

“If I didn’t fall asleep, I would’ve.”

“Probably why they hung up.”

The kid shoots affronted brows at Joon. “Nu uh! It dropped, it dropped.”

*lays on the floor and SCREECHEESSSSS* please blond!jk lasted so little imo he looked so good fuck that one selfie of him in the mirror with his hand god im weak lemme cry

The blond

lord have mercy on my soul!

i love Yoongi caring for his friend and just ah i love it!

Definitely stressed. And more nervous than usual.

PLEASE ryen! DRUMMER!JK too im suffering here!

In a stroke of good fortune, they were also able to figure out the true source of the sound bleed, and a more awake Jungkook was able to redo the drum parts they needed to toss.

Joonie, baby! lol

Hobi responds right after, “Yeah. I missed out on Sunday.”

“There was something on Sunday?”

“Bro, you were invited!”

Namjoon looks thoroughly shocked before he dives right into his messages, and Yoongi shoots him a small look of pity to go with a bubbly laugh.

“Oh, shit, I was.”

“All that reading and you couldn’t read an invite.”

THIS whole scene! ahhh okay but JK saying he’s never had a bad fuck made me laugh, he’s so funny! i adore him! but also the container of food and Yoongi being suspicious! and JK being star struck ugh i could feel the cogs turning and my heart sank a little bit bc YOONGI and OC but also what happened with JK!!! ahhh my heart!

It’s Namjoon that speaks first, brows furrowed. “Good fuck or bad fuck?”

“Never had a bad fuck in my life. But it’s—I dunno. I can’t decide.”

“You can’t decide? What’d they say?”

Immediately, Jungkook waves off the question, “Oh, no, I’m not talking about that.”

“Call went fine. They’re almost done. But! That’s not important. I saw her.”

he catches Jungkook sitting on the back couch—food container in his hands.

THIS is where my heart fucking SANK!!!

Something happened when he was out.

He’s been completely different ever since he came back. Even when a few girls stopped by, he shooed them off so quick that it was comical.

And he never turns chicks away.

the WAY I WOULD HAVE HAD THE SAME RESPONSE YEARS AND YEARS AGO LMAOOOO but also very interested into diving into Jungkook’s past a little more! and yoongi’s it seems like one of his last relationshis really hurt him

“Have you ever loved someone?”

Ah.

Can he go now?

Instead of answering straight, he decides to dodge. “Have you?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook looks down the hall. “But, uhm. It’s only happened once.”

Yoongi’s surprised it’s happened at all.

“Thought you never got past one night shit.”

“I wasn’t always like that.”

He can relate. There was a brief time in his life where that was the case.

From aw sweet he’s been in love to my heart shattering to pieces like a broken glass like fuck i got this awful feeling and i can’t imagine how he felt putting the pieces together cause fuck i hurt even rereading it :(

“But I’d”—Jungkook fidgets, messing up his hair without even realizing—“I’d give all that up for her.”

Damn. “Serious?”

“If she ever wanted to try again? Yeah.”

“Who? Feel like you’ve run through the whole town at this point.”

At this, there isn’t a response right away. Or even after a few moments.

THIS RIGHT HERE RYEN! knocked the wind out of my lungs and it’s not any easier reading it again but i applaud you for making me feel like this bc im gonna cry so bad rn i thought i could make it through but im tearing up. the pain they must be feeling and JK doesn’t even know about OC and Yoongi and fuck i can’t imagine being in this situation for real bc it would tear me to pieces :( and then yoongi NOT knowing the extent of their relationship and now im noting maybe JK’s ring is significant as in maybe OC gave it to him and he wears it all the time???

“Nah, it’s not—uhm. Not anyone…” Jungkook’s smile is small, a thousand memories stored in that melancholic bend. “It’s just someone I didn’t think I’d see again.”

Wait.

“You might remember her. Actually, yeah! You know her brother.”

Shit.

Don’t say your name.

Not with that face.

Not with all the stars you saw that one night in his eyes.

…Fuck.

Right after the one name he didn’t wanna hear comes out of Jungkook’s mouth, Yoongi feels everything…

Fade.

“When I saw her? Fuck, my heart almost stopped.”

Hope is what leaves him first. But oxygen follows close behind, getting harder and harder to consume.

How did you even see him? Why are you downtown instead of—

Were you coming to the studio? Is your interview somewhere close? Do you even know what the studio is called have you been talking to…

You said you remembered Jungkook.

But you never said anything else.

What all did you remember? What does he not know?

All you told him about were your relationships in university. Was Jungkook before all of that? What happened?

He’s touching the ring again.

…Did you love him, too?

my heart! JUNGKOOK!!!

“Everything was coming back to me and I just. I probably scared her with how hard I hugged her.”

please i CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE!!!!!

Yoongi feels himself shutting down. Slipping, falling, plummeting back into the dark. Below where he was before, which was already considerably cold.

You were able to pull him upward.

Is he really about to let go?

Say something. He has to say something, right? Why can’t he bring himself to say anything?

He doesn’t even have you.So why does this feel like a loss?

hoping this is the kick he needs to make it OFFICIAL but knowing our yoongi he may be wanting to back down to let JK have his second chance :(

Maybe this is the sign he needed. The sign to finally stop playing pretend.

Because who the fuck is he kidding? Being with you didn’t exist beyond his dreams.

And above all else, it seems like he’s willing to drop everything if you give him another chance.

:(((((

What does he have? Not much. Just a history of getting around and a bruised as fuck heart.

fuckk my little heart can’t take it

With eyes shutting in defeat, Yoongi realizes what Jungkook was eating earlier. Just the icing on the fucking cake.

WHO HURT MY BABY! I WILL FIGHT FOR HIM! IDCCC what he did (within reason ofc) nobody deserves to be told this especially with how it seems to resonate with him so much. :(

She was right.

Everyone will eventually leave him.

And he’ll end up alone.

A MILLION BUCKS so cute but also bad! JK bad! (how am i supposed to be okay with him when yoongi is hurt fuck i wanna cheer for them both :()

“Nothing. Just…” He smiles again. “She looks incredible.”

Feeling his chest cave in, Yoongi responds with a hum.

“And I don’t even mean that in like, a shallow way, you know? She looks… I dunno. She looks like a million bucks.”

Yoongi looks at the floor before he realizes that his lips form a sad smile, and he covers how he really feels by shaking his head and giving him shit. “A million bucks?”

Jungkook, read the room baby please :(

“Yeah… Guess I’ll try again on Friday.”

“You going? Thought you had plans.”

“Nope. Not anymore, if it means I get to see her.”

end things :( that hurt so much bc fuck after everything they’ve been through and just JK running his mouth unknowingly ( i don’t blame him but also YOONGI)

On his way home, he wonders if you’re still coming. Knowing that it’s stupid to think about since you haven’t said anything otherwise.

But the dumplings…

Shit, something that trivial shouldn’t be able to affect him so much. But it does. It affects how he’s been on autopilot ever since Jungkook uttered your name. It affects how he’s in a foggy mood on his way home, taking in the light clouds and thinking about how you’d probably say how pretty they are.

It affects how he feels sick that he’s gonna end things.

But on the flip side, it’s almost making him feel relieved.

Because one, you’d be in good hands. Jungkook looked ready to give it all up and, with his determination, Yoongi truly believes that.

And two, which is the much worse point: how would things have worked between him and you?

and then the brother! like fuck I know my brother would have been upset but also fuck that lol and then yoongi saying/thinking he’d probably beat up whichever hypothetical friend OC was dating oof i get it lol but then again i know their friends (At least through Yoongi and OC’s eyes and yeah i get it lol ) but still my BABIES :(

Even if it happened, there’s no way it could actually grow into something. Especially with your brother not knowing shit up til now. To go from nothing to you saying you’re seeing one of his friends?

He would beat the shit outta him.

And who could blame him? Certainly not Yoongi. Hell, if Yoongi himself found out you were seeing one of their friends, he’d show up at their door in an instant.

So what’s with all the hypocrisy?

BABY! She’s his instant relief! :(

He didn’t even know his shoulders were tense until he heard your voice.

Yoongi baby :(

But how long will he get to do that? Which call will be his last?

PLEASE their banter! :(

“I hate you.”

Yoongi pauses before saying something, and he makes a decision on the fly,

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m cooking.”

“Wait! You’re gonna make food?”

If he’s gonna bow out, he’s gonna do all the shit he wants to do first. One last time before reality fully severs the string that shouldn’t have tethered to your heart.

“Yeah. Did you eat already?”

it’s SAD GIRL HOURS :(

“Okay. Are you sure you want me to come over?”

More than anything. “Yes, doll. I wanna see you.”

“Yoongi?”

Please say his name a lot tonight. “Hmm.”

“I wanna see you, too.”

:( I’d love to know how that conversation went if you ever wanted to share <3 im so invested in everyone

“I just need to remember what it’s like to kiss you.”

Why the fuck did he have to be there? Of all places?

ah brother isn’t Seokjin either this is finally when i realized he was an OC too lol but also him liking Yuri’s sister lol so cute but i get it, i wasn’t too fond of my brother liking my friends, it got messy and just nope

“Fine. What do you want for dinner? Seokjin’s back in town so we’re gonna hang at the house.”

“I know Yuri’s going. I dunno about Jia.” “Alright. Well, lemme know.”“Can’t you just ask h—”

Then you wonder.If it was Yuri instead…Something in you stirs, and it’s a creature you don’t think you like.

Cat!dad Yoongi <3

There’s a bowl of water next to his unwelcome mat.

:( heartache but also I wish she had the key too. i feel so awkward knocking on people’s door. lemme just text an “im here” and let me in lmao

They’d enter a phase of their life that they’re always going to remember, intertwining with a man they’re never gonna forget.

Shaking your head, you swipe unfallen tears before knocking, and you vaguely wish you still had a key so that you could’ve skipped all this nonsense.

head is spinning fuck

The door is opened seconds later, glasses and dark hair greeting your wide eyes.

Because there are many ways he can dress that have you stumbling over nothing. But when he’s at his most comfortable is when you really can’t handle things. You’re almost positive he’s wearing the specs just to mess with you.

she knows and yet she’s trying and i think we all know but we’re hoping it won’t go that way :( but also it’s been a year for them an i love them and ah im sad :(

“I brought you tangerines.”

There’s something in his expression, like he can’t decide how to react. But you can’t blame him because you probably look a little too happy to just be presenting fruit.

“It’s been a year.”

You know.

But you don’t wanna think too hard about that.

Brushing off the feeling in your stomach, you scoff, “And?”

Instead of letting you in, he leans against his doorframe while holding the knob with a smirk. “Feel like I should ask for interest.”

“Excuse you,” you huff.

Cat!dad Yoongi x2 so adorable!

“Where’s your cat?”

“It’s not mine.”

“You gave it a water bowl.”

“It looked thirsty.”

he’s her safe place! I’m sobbing, they need each other!

Something in you flutters, knowing you’re finally here and free to stay. You don’t know how it’s easier to breathe in his place rather than out in the world, but explanations aren’t needed—not when you’re just glad to be back.

I hate this feeling of my chest being crushed, poor OC my baby :(

Of course, there’s a possibility that Yoongi’ll be super opposed to the idea of you staying the night.

Perhaps putting yourself on a limb can wait, though. Best not to do it this early, lest you get pushed off by feelings unrequited so soon.

Damn it. Don’t be negative.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word, though, arms slowly wrapping around your shoulders after a strange, questionable freeze.

SADNESSS AND NOTHING BUT

“I missed you,” you confess into his clothes, and you feel his hold tighten just a bit.

“It’s only been a few days, doll.”

“Hey,” you pout. “You’re supposed to say you missed me, too.”

He exhales through his nose, and you melt into the warmth his body gives. “Missed you, too.”

You don’t wanna think something is wrong.

But something seems off.

cRYING

Something is definitely up.

Pulling back, you attempt to uncover the truth, first scraping the surface where it’s safe, “Long day?”

“Yeah.”

While you half-expected that kind of answer, you don’t expect him to retreat, too.

RYEN teach me your ways! how do you write like this?

As you watch him walk back into his active kitchen, your hands hang like anchors, lowering you back down into a muddy sea.

im NOT OKAy

Even though he said he wanted to see you, and even though he seemed amused when you came inside, you feel almost…

Something inside of you is picking up signals that you haven’t had since that very first day you came here.

Signals that are telling you to leave.

Damn. All the excitement that you were harboring the whole day seems suddenly ponderous, weighing your shoulders down before plummeting to kitchen tile.

With a heart so heavy you think you’ll crumple forward if you aren’t careful, you whisper,

“Hey.”

“I can leave.”

Seconds pass. And seconds more.

When your offer isn’t taken nor refused, you lift your eyes to regard the one person holding your soul in his hands.

And give him full reign to destroy it.

Yoongi, NO!

“Kook said he saw you today.”

“He says he misses you.”

“I didn’t know you were a thing. My bad.”

Good for her!

“Yoongi, I—”

“He said he—”

“Told him I’m seeing someone.”

My HeArt!!!! she needs a hug, she didn’t deserve all this overthinking but I get Yoongi’s POV too and im just sad :(

Why is he being so distant? Something seems different than before, and you really don’t like how he sounds…

Unsure.

Did you just make him uncomfortable?

Fuck, that’s entirely possible. You knew he doesn’t do relationships anymore and yet you wedged him into this position without even telling him. What a dumbass.

Why did you tell Jungkook you were seeing someone? Why did you have to let that slip?

<33 he’s trying!!

“Who’re you seeing,” Yoongi suddenly asks, shifting so that he’s facing you completely.

“Someone I know?”

Does he really need to ask? Why is he so fucking attractive even like this?

I ADORE HER

“At least, you’d probably get along.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah.” You weakly flick him. “You’re both mean.”

I wanna get oof this angsty ride :( my heart can’t take anymore oof this is where i take a break to clear my head bc this is making me so sad and we’re not THERE yet and im so sad but you meant ANGST angst and oof you delivered ryen!!

“There’s just one issue with him, though.”

Yoongi immediately furrows his brows. “Just one?”

“Well. The biggest issue right now.”

He just slides his eyes up to regard you, silent and waiting for you to continue.

Nerves vibrating, you swallow.

“I dunno if he’s seeing me, too.”

“Anyway. There’s a million reasons why he wouldn’t. Or shouldn’t. But…”

Fuck. Your heart suddenly pangs. And you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but your hand. Your voice shudders when it expels, and your throat gets smaller by twenty sizes.

“I’d at least like to know.”

“I could answer for him.”

tease!

“But you should probably ask him straight up.”

“Wait a minute!”

He laughs while going back to stirring the pan. “Try him after dinner.”

FUTURE ANNOYANCE!

When your pout reaches a handful of seconds, you spare a slow glance at your past and current and future annoyance.

IM gonna cry!

He didn’t say no.

But he also didn’t say yes.

this feels significant

A few plates and bowls rest next to each other, and you wonder if he ever had more before.

she’s too nice! but ALSO the dumplings were for her AND YOONGI!!!!

“I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why not?”

Did he see the dumplings you gave away? You were gonna eat those, but when you saw Jungkook… He looked so depleted. Running on past empty. You offered without thinking about it.

Hopefully Yoongi didn’t see that. You were gonna share them with him instead.

:( been there and uts not a nice feelng

Even though he’s attentive, you still can’t shake the feeling of awkwardness. Like he’s just counting down the minutes until you leave.

she needs so many hugs :( i hate that she’s second guessing herself after the progress she had been making

It’s one thing to tell Jungkook you were seeing someone. Because you didn’t say who it was, and to him it could be anyone.

But to tell Yoongi what you said, knowing damn well you know he knows who you mean?

You basically admitted everything under the Sun.

Without even knowing if your feelings would reflect off the Moon.

Fuck, you feel guilty. Embarrassed. Why the hell did you spring this onto him without even asking? That’s gotta feel strange, if not awkward as hell.

i just wanna say fuck the brother but i get it, i DO but i want them together but i feel like the brother would not be okay with them but who knows 👀

And as much as you feel for Yoongi, you should’ve kept your brother in mind. This is someone he’s known for years. Someone he considers family. A man he trusts.

A person he loves.

If they stop talking because of you, a day wouldn’t go by without you feeling like absolute shit.

You think back to what you thought in the car, wondering what you would do if your brother ever saw one of your friends without you knowing.

Just the thought—a thought you didn’t think you’d ever have to consider—makes your stomach roll and keel over. It’d be so weird. You would feel so… betrayed.

Realizing that the last conversation you’ll have here mirrors the very first.

i cannot do this my heart aches for her and im gonna CRY again like how can I survive this! ugh im sad and she’s trying her best to go but she doesn’t want to and he’s not moving or saying anything to keep her and my heart is in pieces

“That guy… I don’t think I have to ask him anymore.” You look up, and your heart clenches when you see he’s already staring. “I dunno what I was thinking.”

What’s that you said about tripping before the finish line?

“Thank you for the food,” you rasp out.

“Looks like you win.”

Because if he hasn’t stopped you already? He’s already made his choice. You can walk as slow as possible and he will let it happen.

Because there isn’t someone pushing you up against a door this time. No one asking you to give them a good luck kiss. No one telling you to stay.

You know things were good while they lasted. You wanna tell yourself to cherish everything that happened the way they did. But all you can do is mourn all the shit that won’t happen anymore. Like stealing moments like tonight. Or finally sleeping well. Or making memories in kitchens…You don’t wanna go.

im begging him to say something other than her name! stop her! :(

Your name leaves him in a quiet whisper, but you ignore it as you rush into the kitchen. There’s a few clinks as you set your stuff next to the sink before going back to the table.

Where Yoongi hasn’t moved at all.

You don’t get his stuff, but rather the serving dishes next, using both hands and fighting back tears because he says your name again.

You don’t wanna go.

Because if you leave?

You know you’re not coming back.

BABE! how dare he indeed! :( i need tissues

A hand closes over yours.

“Stop.”

You clench your teeth, eyes aflame at the rims when you whisper, “I’m not done.”

“Babe.”

How dare he.

i cant feel sorry for him when she’s hurting but he is too and after reading his pov so much so but also HER (ME) i wouldnt look at him either out of stubbornness :/

“Look at me.”

You shake your head, knowing that you aren’t gonna last if you do as he says.

“Please.”

No.

!!! sadness

Your wrist is clutched before you struggle, eyes leaking as you fight to get your limb back. When you move your body forward, it’s held before being spun around, backed up against a fridge with a hard clank.

And the last defense you have around your heart shatters.

“Coward!”

Yoongi..

Of course he’s staring at the ground. Hiding anything and everything from you as if you never told him that he shouldn’t.

my heart is shattering! can you hear it??? :(

“Look, I know I read this all wrong. You don’t want me like that. I get it.” You heave. “But goddamn, if you want me gone, just tell me—”

mmm no my heart is trash, nothing but broken pieces

“Why am I here? Why did you even tell me to come? Ever since I got here you’ve been wanting me to get the fuck out.”

He’s not even gonna answer.

He hasn’t even looked up from the fucking floor.

“I should’ve known better.” Another heavy exhale. “Me seeing you of all people. What a joke—”

im sorry jungkook baby but you lost your chance! :(

“He still loves you.”

“What?”

Time stops.

Just for a moment.

And Yoongi sighs. “That’s what he told me.”

…Oh.

Jungkook said that?No. Impossible. You were the one in love with him not the other way around what the fuck? He’s the one that broke your heart.

he’s too good for his own good but he needs to put his feelings first for once! :( also THE RINGGGGGG

But your mind quells because everything makes sense now. Why Yoongi’s been so distant. Why he’s been so quiet. Why he didn’t stop you almost leaving with an unbeating heart.

And why wouldn’t he? Jungkook probably talked about that damn ring he has on his chain—the same one you still have in your bottom drawer.

ALL THIS LED ME TO YOU!

“It’s okay. Got into some pretty shit relationships after him, but. I’m still here.” You try to catch his eyes, but he’s still not looking anywhere near your face. “And all this led me to you.”

poor baby :(

This what he wants, right? Clearly you weren’t invited over for food. Or conversation. Or to fucking confess that you saw yourself having some semblance of a relationship with him.

“It doesn’t need to mean much. Seeing someone,” you surrender, shoving all your uncalled for feelings to the side. Feelings that you’ll pluck from yourself one at a time. “It can just be this.”

Because unlike the fruit in your hand that will haunt you, they can’t all come off in one piece.

Oh :(

“Doll, stop.”

“This isn’t what I want.”

…Oh.

So he’s done done. Jungkook’s admittance snapped him into making a decision and your alarming confession sealed the deal, huh?

YES HE DOES WANT ALL OF IT

“I want all of it.”

“I don’t want you thinking that’s all I want from you.” SPIRRALING

He looks down, looking defeated as you’ve ever seen him. When he lifts his head again, he finally explains,

“This isn’t… This isn’t just about sex.” He looks at your eyes. “I don’t want you thinking that’s all I want from you.”

give him a HUGGGG please :((

“But I feel like that’s all I can give,” he continues, and you snap your jaw shut. “All that other shit you should have?”

Your heart squeezes when he looks away. “The way things are, there’s only so much I can do.” He looks down, and you wonder if he’s looking at the uneaten fruit next to your feet. “You don’t need to be seeing a guy like that.”

“Yoongi.”

“Besides.” His little huff of laughter stings. “I’m fucked up, doll. You deserve a lot better than me, anyway.”

Whoa, what the fuck?

“Baby. Stop.”

Yoon!

Something in you switches immediately. Because this isn’t about you anymore; something is up with Yoongi.

he’s sTILL looking out for her! my babies!

“I don’t need all the other shit,” you whisper before resting your cheek against his head. “I’ll take what I can get with you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Why?”

Yoongi leans away. “Because I’ve settled before. You’ve settled before.” He stares. “This would be the same thing.”

ACCEPT HER LOVEEEE

“I’ve been settling because I didn’t know what I wanted. What I was supposed to want. But you…” There’s so many things you want to say, all of them rushing up and rendering your throat useless. “You changed that.”

“And I’ve never wanted something more in my life.”He looks at the ground. “Even if it’s not enough?” “What?” Why the hell is he running? Don’t let him back away so easily. Not when he’s finally opening up. “You’re more than enough.”

THE PROTECTIVENESS <3 followed by the shit talking lol love that

“No one blames you. And honestly? I would’ve done the same shit if someone said anything about you.”

Finally, you get his eyes.

“You wanna know why?”

He stays silent, and you touch his chin, sacrificing your shyness because he needs to know what you truly feel.

“Cus no one’s gonna talk shit about someone I care about,” you vow, a declaration you would repeat to the world if it meant driving the point home. “Only I can do that.”

:((

“I wanna be happy.”

“And I want you to be happy, too.”

this is too much! I’m SOBBING! why is he doing this??? and then OC still wanting to be his friend bc she wants to be there for him bc she loves him THAT much im not OKAY RYEN IM NOT

“Even if we stop whatever this is, I still want—”

“If I end it. Right now.”

A vice grips your heart.

“What then?”

Your voice cracks as your stars burn out. Your universe collapses in on itself, plunging into your throat and choking you in an instant.

The you from a year ago was brave enough to come here in the first place. You’ll be damned if the you a year from today wonders what could’ve happened if you stayed.

If he still rejects you after this, you’ll just have to deal with the feelings that grew. Feelings that you’ll pluck from yourself one at a time.

Because unlike the fruit that will come to haunt you, they can’t all come off in one piece.

“Then I’d ask to be your friend.”

“Because I still wanna be there for you,” you choke out. “Even after you decide you’re done with me.”

BABY! At least you knocked the first time.

What you feel for Yoongi is endless. An ocean. Deep, and blue, and vast, and terrifying.

And you’ll be okay. No matter what happens now, you’ll brave those waters.

At least you knocked the first time.

FINALLY 👀👀

“Fucking hell, doll.”

Hard lips cut off any other syllable you were gonna utter, smushing them into the back of your throat as you’re pinned flush against steel.

but in his own way he’s telling you EVERYTHING! ah my heart is on the mend! i just want them to be happy !!

More. This isn’t enough. Not for you. Not for him.

Suddenly, you tug him across the space, beautifully crushed between his body and a sink that bruises your back, held so tight that his arms are squeezing emotions out of your eyes.

And you let the rivers run. Run and run and spill onto your clothes that you don’t feel are on you at all.

You kiss him as if it’s your last. You kiss him as if this is the first of many. You kiss him until your lungs burn and your lips bruise and you only have capacity for him.

While you keep gasping his name, Yoongi’s not saying anything.

But, in his own way, he’s telling you everything.

he’s bearing his heart out to her and im sobbing again!!!

It reminds you of good times, it reminds you of him. With each passing second, you feel like you know him more, like you’re meeting the real Yoongi through a musical medium.

“That bad?”

“What?”

“You’re crying.”

the way i SCREAMED

“Your dick is big and I wanna suck it.”

he wouldn’t have shown her if he didn’t think he sounded good and that just makes me smile cause it’s true i adore him

“The rest sounds damn good.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. And I know you think so, too.” You huff as you give him a shoulder nudge. “You wouldn’t have shown me otherwise.”

imagining this has me soft! when will min Yoongi cover me with his body?!?!!?

There’s a laugh behind you—one of the soft ones that have become your favorites—before a warm, big presence joins your side. When Yoongi leans forward a bit, you can feel his body heat as he points on the screen where to press.

hearing his distinct voice on recording while feeling his lips in person. SWooning!

And you only feel the softest press of lips on your own.

Time bends when you’re pulled into the most tender kiss he’s ever given, and everything around you melts away. The song fades to background noise, but it’s still wonderful, hearing his distinct voice on recording while feeling his lips in person.

he LOVES her!

Nothing matters right now. Not the way you said everything, not the way he hasn’t outright said anything in return. None of that truly matters at the moment because, right now, you feel like you’ve been given an answer to something.

STAYYYY

“Stay.”

the HOLLY videos like he promised!

Yoongi clicks on a video, enlarging it to show none other than Holly walking around a room. “I wanna snuggle, oh god.”Yoongi’s voice reverberates under your cheek as he easily surrenders, “He’d probably prefer you over me anyway.” “Umm, yeah,” you huff. “He’s got good taste.”

like you said, that shaved off a year off my life too. the hurt is real but at least it’s all in the open now <3

“Thank you.”

“For uhm… Not being done with me yet.”

“Babe.”

“Besides. I’m probably keeping you from other people, too—if you aren’t sleeping with anyone else now.”

“I really like you, Yoongi. And I’m gonna love every second you give me.”

i may be reaching but did he like her BEFORE she showed up at his door????

“I know I haven’t said my piece.”

“But I’m really fucking into you, doll.”

Oh.

“I have been for a long time.”

Oh.

AHHHHHHH

“You’re just off-limits, so. I knew I couldn’t push it.” He laughs to himself, faint and full of unspoken words. “I say that, but. I almost didn’t give a shit in your kitchen that d…”

cRYING HAPPUY TEARSSS

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what.”

“What you do to me.”

He’s wavering in the blur of your gaze. “What do I do?”

“That’s what I don’t get. You don’t need to do anything, I just… You make things make sense.”

“Oh.”

“And you…” He sighs. “You make me feel safe.”

“I meant from myself.”

his POV chapter hits so much harder now, my baby

Your throat depletes in size. What has he been going through this whole time? What other destruction has he been inflicting on himself? Where is this darkness stemming from?

He had a past, but he’s so different now. He has to see that, right? Right?

You had no fucking clue. This whole time, he had been perfect.

And you didn’t have a single clue.

he needs a hug :( but also him saying he can be an ass made me laugh, so cute!

“I called you a coward. I was so mean, I—”

“Called me the fuck out,” Yoongi corrects, his voice a beautiful rockslide on your skin. “Nothing bad about that.”

“This is why you’re too good for me, doll. I’m just fine being an ass all the time.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I can make a bitch cry,” you point out through another sniff, feeling his huff in your neck. “But only if they really deserve it. And you don’t.”

let them love each other my heart cant take any more heart ache :(

“Ask me,” you whisper. “What I want.”

He inhales, slow, before obliging.

“You.” A tear rolls. “All of you.”

“I wanna call you every morning. I want you to be the last one I hear before I fall asleep.”

“I wanna give all the good luck kisses you want. I wanna… Fuck, I wanna cook with you, talk about what’s bothering you, I…”

You hold him tight. Because your last confession is the one that requires the most courage, carrying the weight of a thousand sentences in a mere seven words.

“I wanna watch fireworks with you again.”

mY BABYYYY

As soon as you loosen your hold, he pushes upward, and you realize with a visceral burn that those tears you felt weren’t yours.

Raw at their edges, just as welled, his eyes hold the heavens inside as he continues to regard you like you’ll still run.

But why? You hate, hate, hate that you don’t know. But you feel just as delicate as he looks, and you silently vow to protect him from everything that he can’t fight alone.

Ryen, your mind!!!! your way with words !!!

And as a man that speaks through actions, Yoongi responds with a kiss reminiscent of moonlight.

Soft in the way it makes you protective. Bright in the way it makes you glow.

AHHHHH it’s happening!!!!

“Whatever you want.”

“It’s yours.”

why is this something my husband would say lmao i love him okay

“Hey… There’s just one more thing.”

“Show me your cat and I’ll shut up.”

Yoongi puffs laughter next to your ear, his gravelly, raspy response sending delicious anticipation up your spine,

“How about you show me yours first.”

“Yoongi!”

fuck that’s so hot

“If I show you, I want it to take hours.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he warns through a smirk you mercifully can’t see. “You won’t last if I go for hours.”

Your nipple is tweaked on a dime, snapping your back in an arch without warning and yanking a high moan out of your throat.

“Yeah,” Yoongi tuts. “There’s no way.”

“But if you tap out, I won’t be shocked.”

im a wh*re for cocky!yoongi i love him!!! this whole tidbit is just so mouth watering hot like imagining this going down has me FERRAL

“Show me up then, baby girl.” He pats you twice on the cheek before clutching your chin again, lowering lips to your ear,

“Show me what a year did to you.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter to me.” A hot tongue licks a confident stripe up your neck. “I can get you to do what I want anytime.”

Before it fizzes out at the top, though, Yoongi whispers for you to kiss him, and you’re halfway through your second press to his lips before you pull away with a curse.

“Too easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re about to.”

i love this! they’ve come so far <3

And though he’s wearing the same thing he wore a year before, this time is vastly unlike the first. Hushed, not hurried; tender, not tense.

insecurities last <33

A shirt here. A jacket there. Pants next. Insecurities last.

my heart :( but in a good way? there’s not much for her to hide when she laid it all out! im proud of her!

When you’re stripped bare, you feel no different. Because you already felt that way. Layers and layers already torn in scraps on his kitchen floor.

I adore this and how she’s taking the lead and yoongi following along like fuck he’s just a sweetie <3

So you show him that you’re okay with a deep lick of your tongue, tell him that you’re ready with hands clawing through his hair. Because he will always wait for your lead, and you’re starting to understand and love that more and more.

BABY!!!! BABE!!!!!! my heart! ❤️

“Please, baby,” you whisper to his lips. “I’ve missed this.”

“Same, babe.” He nicks your neck. “Fucking same.”

SAME OC SAMEEE

But it’s him. You know that nothing he does here should surprise you.

“Bring your ass up here.”

JUST LIKE THATTTTTT!!!!!!

“Up here, babe,” he explains. “Put it on my face.”

This is what he wants? Just like that?

“Right now?”

“Uh huh.”

ahhhhh

This is definitely something you haven’t done before. If he asked you to do this the first time, you would’ve heartily refused without a second thought.

RYENNNNN! IM SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGG

Yoongi hooks strong forearms around your thighs, dragging you backwards and kissing your cunt without a second thought oh fuck!

he can’t JUST say THAT!

When his praise rings out beneath, something in you growls to life. “I knew you’d be nasty here, too.”

PLease!!!

“No way you’re still hustling me.”

“I’m not.” Fuck, is that your voice? You don’t even recognize it.

“What a fuckin’ lie.”

nope! not imagining them making a movie! bc i will not survive!!!

“Could make a whole movie with you, goddamn.”

HE’S FEASTING! RYEN CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING

Oh. He’s feasting. He’s feasting a little too well because you’re starting to tremble, winding hard hard fast in your center while your lips puff around his sopping length.

my heart!

“Everything you told me in the car was adorable.”

this is so HOTT

“Don’t care. I’m gonna tell you anyways.”

“Oh, my god.” SAME OC SAMEEE

“You said my dick was pretty.”

“Oh, my god.”

FUCK OC MAY BE ON to something THO. Yoong’s chains are killer and just imagining them fuck im NOT OKAY

“And you only wanna fuck if I keep the chains on.”

i GIGGLED they’re SO cute!!!!! mim spiralling into delulu land

“Why would I make that shit up?”

“To make me cry.”

MY GIRL?!?!?! HIS GIRL?!?!?! YOONGI’S GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Damn, you almost gone already?”

“Just wanna come.”

“Almost got me for a sec,” he drones. “I know my girl can last longer than that.”

RYENNNNNNNN!!!!!!

“You’re just big.”

So big. It could be your thousandth time with him—an impossible number—and he would still make you breathe through your mouth on the way in. You love it you love it, the slight ache a beautiful burden before paradise.

Or maybe they painted him and then the gods became jealous. AGREED

Brows knit in concentration, he looks like someone painted him with love, giving him definition with sharp strokes and modeling his jaw after a god. Or maybe they painted him and then the gods became jealous. That would be more likely.

BABY GIRL

“You asked for this, baby girl.”

PLEASEEEE

Shit. You don’t know how this is gonna feel, but you know Yoongi’s about to fuck you senseless anyway. You’re about to feel him all the way up in your goddamn mouth.

Pacxking my bags for delulu land and this is where you can find me cause how am i supposed to go on knowing this ain’t MEEEE

Because from where you lay, he’s a king.

See dragging fish above!!!!! Good girl

You do. So obediently, so wide, getting rewarded with spit flying from his filthy mouth into yours, and your groan comes out so guttural that you don’t even think it’s you.

“Good girl.”

he’s so sweet and gentle and he kissed it and told her to be careful! i love him!

“Oh shit, doll.” Yoongi stops as soon as you wince, softly touching the bruise you definitely felt on your back.

“Where’s this from.”

“Me. My fault. Sink.”

You don’t see what he does when silent, but you feel his jewelry slide against your ass when he leans forward to kiss the sore spot. “Careful, love,” he wisps into your skin.

brb sending you my hospital bill cause I will NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS AHAHAHA MINE IM CRYING PLEASE SEND HELP

“Who do you think I am?” you rasp.

Hissing laughter, Yoongi leans forward to plant a wet kiss on your sweaty forehead. “Mine,” he simply states, like it’s been fact this whole time.

RYEN PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE FUCK IM GONE IM GONE AND I CAN’T EVEN THINK ANYMORE I HAVE NO WORDS IM JUST NOT OKAY AND IM GONE IN MY OWN THOUGHTSSS

“But just cus you’re mine doesn’t mean you don’t get fucked like a slut.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s what baby girl wants?”

“There you go, baby girl.”

Oh.

He’s not moving you at all.

Fuck, you’re fucking into him and he’s watching, his hand on your ass gripping light as it bounces with each one-sided thrust that would have your past self slackjawed if they witnessed you now.

“Filthy girl.”

Ryen please!

The only thing that you’re missing is him. Which is silly to think, but you want all of him. To see the way he reacts just like he can witness your downfall after downfall.

You want it.

When you throw a look over your shoulder, you strain yourself so hard your neck stings.

But it’s worth it. You’ll stay this way forever. If this is what it takes to see Yoongi like this, you’ll freeze for eternity.

Because you have never seen him regard you like the way he is now.

Dark. Electric. Possessive. A million emotions flash across his face, and your breath is taken away by half of them.

The other five hundred thousand are ripped from you as he breaks eye contact, brows focused as he grits teeth at his thrusts instead.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he’s tearing you open in the most magnificent way. Your body goes completely limp as you’re split in two again and again and again, mind lost as you escape into the deep ocean above.

screECGINGH im soBBING

“You like it, huh? Proving you can take this dick.”

“I can take more.”

“Yeah?”

Your scalp is pulled without prompt, and you throw your head back as he pistons in hard, screaming through teeth so clenched they may crackle and break. “Fuck!”

When he wraps his hand around your throat instead, the moan you release is nothing but erotic.

“That’s right, baby girl,” Yoongi growls. “Tell me who’s pretty cunt this is.”

“Yours, oh fuck!”

IT’s HERSSSS

“Take that dick like it’s yours.”

Eyes striking, you thrust down with vigor. “It is mine.”

He slams up again. “It is.”

the way you paint a picture in my mind will be something i cherish always bc fuck it this isn’t the hottest thing i’ve read im sobbing thank you for sharing this !!! 🥵

When he sucks on your nipple, you release a whine; when he grabs at your curves, you know not to think bad things. Your thighs sear right down to bone, but you power through because there is something in you that just cannot be satiated right now.

What’s happening? Why are you feeling so fucking greedy?

While you’re a storm, he’s a quiet force. And he’s looking up at you like you’re an angel committing beautiful sins, him the mere mortal fortunate enough to witness.

could he have said i love you or am i reaching!!! i may be reaching but STILLLL

Tears rush out of your eyes as your third overlaps with the second, so caught up in your torrent that you don’t hear the words against your cheek.

hopefully bc GD 🥵🥵🥵

All you expel is his name, wondering if it now exists permanently in the lining of your lungs.

my babies <33

While you used to feel caged in this way, with Yoongi, it’s more like a shelter. Another safe haven, and the very thought builds the confidence you have in your decision to say everything you couldn’t before.

i just love him so much!

“I’m not seeing anyone else.”

Your eyes flicker.

“Like I said. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

YOONGI!!!

“I’ve been yours.”

He was gonna say something after dalo? :( poor baby

“Yeah. I thought about saying something after Dalo, but I didn’t wanna put that on you.”

He what? Blinking at his jewelry instead of his face, you feel like you’re floating all over again. “After Dalo?”

“Yeah. But I knew I didn’t deserve you. So I didn’t.”

You can’t even fathom telling him at all and here Yoongi was thinking of outright saying it with his whole chest.

i really hope this goes well for them! they deserve to be together <33

This isn’t something you can just mention in passing. No matter how he’s informed, you know your sibling will go on a warpath, eyes blazing and fists clenched. “Fuck, I don’t know… I don’t wanna ruin anything between you.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Will he?”

“…I dunno.”

they’ve been running together! i hope they make it! <33

The finish line is right up ahead. You’ve been through the mud and the rain, but you haven’t been alone.

Because Yoongi has been running with you the entire time, picking you up when you needed it, and removing obstacles you didn’t even know were coming. He’s been here, here, here, watching you take every step every inch of the way.

ryen ily! this was absolutely perfect and ahhhhhhh i love them, their banter, their obvious love for each other they’ve grown so much since that first time and im near tears that theyre finally here

“Gonna warn you now: you might get tired of me, doll.”

“I’m already tired of you, the fuck.”

And he gives you a grin that will burn into your memory forever, searing into multiple pages that it will take you years to turn over and forget.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, giving you a kiss that curls your toes. When you regard him with moons in your eyes, there’s a touch to your forehead, too. A touch that has become synonymous with home.

ah the BOYFRIEND FEELS

Yoongi did exactly what you wanted, calling in the morning even if he didn’t need to be up, and waiting until you called at night to talk until you slept.

He’d tell you about his day after asking about yours, and you listened with closed eyes whenever he’d leave you on speaker while working. Or cooking. Or simply lying in bed while cheekily saying you should be there instead.

As much as you wanted to see him, you knew you couldn’t push it. You had the house party to look forward to, and you knew you were gonna have to fight to keep your hands and feelings in check.

I NEED TO SEE THIS PARTY OUTFIT

“Why? You got a request?”

“Yeah,” you muse before deadpanning. “Please look unattractive.”

There’s just a faint chuckle that tickles your ear.

“Sure, baby girl.”

Ah, shit.

“He’s gonna look hot as fuck.”

this is WHY i have a DEMON tag for YOONGI cause he’s a straight up menace!

It’s when you’re mid-conversation with your friends that they all come through the front, three guys exuding an aura that have people staring from down the hallway.

Of course you know the man in front sporting all black like the demon he is.

NOT the CHAINS!!! OC i’m FIGHTING him TOO!!!!

Welcoming them all, he ropes them into conversation while guiding them to the kitchen, and you have to tear your gaze away because even the way Yoongi clasps hands in greeting is driving you mad.

Especially in that shirt.

With those chains.

Fucking hell, you’re gonna fight him.

She’s trying her best but can anyone BLAME HERRRRR yoongi makes my brain go BRRRRRRR all the TIMEEEE

Focus. Don’t make anything a bigger deal than it’s supposed to be. If you happen to talk to him, be fucking normal.

HOBIIII he may not be the brother but he’s a sweetheart and i love him!!!! and how he hung back with her and said every princess needs a guard! I’m SOBBing

“Awhh, come on, princess!”

You don’t know if your friends are looking, but you for sure know that the rest of the guys snap their gazes to the one that just spoke.

When he realizes no one understands, he lowers his arms and looks at them, hand touching his chest. “Wait, does she not remember?” He smiles at you, taking his shades off. “It’s me! Hobi?”

“Oh, shit!” Shock from instant memory rushes you around the island, and you let him crush you in a hug. “How did I not know?”

He lets you go immediately and prattles on, days of when he’d be nice enough to keep you company when no one else wanted to running through your mind. Whether on the outside courts or anywhere else you were dragged to, he was the one that stayed behind when everyone ran off.

Because you’re a princess, he would say. And every princess needs a guard.

NOOOOOOO my babies

“Not for awhile now, don’t worry.”

Ouch.

You didn’t know that.

LMAO JOOON!!!! so BOLD and in front of the BROTHER LMAO I ADORE HIM I’d love to see more of him (if the opportunity arises and only if you want to <3)

“Not bad. I’m tired as hell from getting everything ready, though.” When you check to see if your friends are still in the kitchen, you hold back a laugh seeing them huddled by the fridge. “Didn’t even get ready how I wanted to.”

“S’okay,” he assures. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Easy,” your brother jokingly warns while Yoongi looks away with a smirk.

“What? I’m saying she looks nice!”

RYEN! the way my heart STOPPED!!!! in front of THE BROTHERRRRR!!!

“Where’s my hi?”

What.

What?

You flicker your gaze to Yoongi, brain wracking for a single ounce of a reason he thought saying that was okay.

“Right?” Your brother—your brother?—adds on, “Not even a hi, damn.”

Are you the only one feeling the air get a bit heavier? No? Hopefully it’s not affecting anyone else because they will most assuredly catch on.

I’m sCREAMING! and the sass! ugh i love them all so much! all your characters are wonderful and i applaud you for making each one have their own personality and handling so many bc (for me) that’s so hard! and the brother “Idk where she gets it from” lmao

But maybe… Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe telling him about Yoongi will be somewhat okay.

“My bad,” you start, hiding behind what you usually do when thoroughly overwhelmed with his presence. “Didn’t see you there.”

Everyone else erupts while Yoongi fights a grin with a cheek prod, and Hobi surprises you with his memory. While he smiles at them, his finger wags at you,

“Still like this, huh?”

“So savage,” your sibling tuts. “I dunno where she gets it from.”

my heart SANK! how could i forget about THIS!

“I didn’t tell him you were back. He’s gonna flip shit.”

There’s a falter in your smile when you dart eyes to Yoongi.

“Feel like y’all can pick up where you left off.”

SOBBINGGGG i wantthem together they deserve it :(

Suddenly, your plan of telling your brother about Yoongi gets delayed one million years.

okay but i LOVE THAT Jimin is definitely the life of the party and it’s so easy to love him <33

There’s shouts outside the door and names being called, and you all realize that can only mean that Jimin just arrived.

i LOVE DOM so much! and the fact that she’s ready to fight! SAME and idk what happened but SAME

“Well, let us know if you need saving,” Yuri says, voice softer than usual. When she wants you to know that she’s really serious.

“Not me.”

All of you shoot eyes at Dominique, inspecting her nails in a chair that’s usually topped with laundry.

When she looks up, she cocks a brow. “I’d do more bad than good.”

I was panicking too lol like fuck they’ve been discovered lol bravo for yoongi able to stay cool! and Jimin swooping in to rescue OC again, i adore him! <33 also im curious about what cologne you imagined jimin wearing (im shopping around for my husband and so far only spicebomb is a scent he likes)

“Not seeing anyone, Kook,” is all he says, to which he gets doused with a wave of disbelief.

“No wonder he’s looked so happy lately.”

You don’t know why you can’t breathe. Would it be obvious? He’s not seeing any of their friends. And this town is big but it’s not the biggest. Who would they start suspecting, if not you? Is that ridiculous to think that can’t be it right there’s no way—

An arm swings over your shoulders and rushes you out of sight, and you smell cologne and leather before you recognize who it is.

“Loosen up, babe,” Jimin instructs, voice so firm that you automatically reset. “There we go.”

“Fuck. Thank you.”

“Even had me shaken up.” He releases you when you get into the safety of the empty hall, thrilling conversation spilling out of the kitchen and onto your heels. “But he can handle himself.”

Jai and Seokjin are hilarious! Love them!

“Ah, Seokjin! Hurry up and eat so I can take your money, too.”

“No chance!” He looks at the bills next to her cards. “Earn some more so I can take it all.”

MY HEART <33

Yoongi [10:06pm]: It’s all good. I got us

You [10:06pm]: i know<3

ahhhh i so desperately wanted to see his response! I’m imagining something flirty borderline sext? lol oof

You [10:07pm]: but im mad.

Yoongi [10:08pm]: Wait why?

You [10:08pm]: u look hot when i said not to ☹️

NERVES! just NERVES! ahhh what a good cliffhanger! you’ve got me absolutely hooked!!!

When you check your phone again, you get a text that you don’t get to read.

“Hi.”

Fuck.

Here goes nothing and everything.

“Hey, Kook,” you whisper, locking your phone and turning around.

Never one to wait, he asks without any prelude, “Got a sec?”

And you nod, hoping that this conversation will be one you can get through.

Wanting nothing more than to rest in the comfort only Yoongi’s arms can give.

ahhh ryen, my love! I hope this wasn’t too long! I’m sorry it took a bit, i had started and then my mouse has a back button on the side and as i went to save it hit the back button and POOF gone! i was so upset lol it wasn’t a lot but enough for me to need a day to cool down but i had so many thoughts some that probably don’t make sense lol but I wanted to say thank you for sharing! I absolutely adore this series so much <3 you’re such an amazing writer and each chapter (and the minis and extra) are so SO amazing i feel like i can’t quite express my gratitude toward you. this is definitely one of my comfort fics, so thank you so much! and thank you for sharing it with all of us. I hope you enjoy your break and get lots of rest and enjoy the holidays! I can’t wait (i can wait) until we can see what happens next. ahhhhh ily and take care! I’ve gone on long enough lol thanks once again <33333

forfeit (3tan) (m) | myg

title: forfeit (m) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: something is up with yoongi. note: alright, y’all. i won’t say much here, other than thank you. thank you all endlessly for the support that you’ve shown me and this series thus far. it’s been one heck of a ride, and a huge part of that is bc of all of you. i will leave the rest of my mushy thoughts for the end bc the wait for this has been long enough! note 2: if you haven’t read the three tangerines series yet, read the other parts first! it will all make more sense. lastly, this chapter wasn’t beta’d bc i wanted it to be a surprise for everyone! warnings: pov switch (just one), cursing, house party, yoongi in glasses<33, angst, choking, crying, pen*tration, studio talk, jk is here and he is blond lmao, BRO REVEAL FINALLYYY, hair/head pulling, hitting from the back, protected s*x, uhhhhhhh 34+35 l o l, oral (f/m rec), rough s*x, kissing (yes, this is a warning and i’m warning u that it’s a warning), a struggle, spanking, assss play, yoongi is rude, overthinking, did i say angst?, alcohol, weed mention, spitting, manhandling, cowgirl, the chains!! stay!! on!!, body worship, obligatory ‘yoongi on the phone’ warning :)) drop date: october 25th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 22.6k holy hell

“You in all day, too?”

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#yoongi favorites; 2022

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