#let Ashley flex those acting muscles some more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddaenggtan · 5 years ago

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midnight wishes | knj [M]

Granny Park's Gossip:

That boy. Never met anyone as prone to disaster as he is while being so damned smart, except maybe that roommate of his. The two of them could probably cure cancer if they wanted to, but you leave them alone for more than a few seconds and you’re liable to come back to disaster. Jiminie did say they’ve been acting a little different, though, maybe they finally wised up and made things official instead of just humping like bunnies around that apartment of theirs. Oh, am I not supposed to say that?

pairing } namjoon x reader

word count } 10.3k { also on ao3

genre } Fluff, Smut, the smallest possible dash of angst; FWB au, Roommates au, coworkers au, slight idiots to lovers but like. lowkey.

warnings } smut, the most smut, all the smut. Namjoon In Glasses bc that deserves its own tag. there’s multiple smutty parts, several less explicit and then one very very super explicit so for those: oral female, oral male, fingering, deepthroating, protected sex, unprotected sex, mention of semi-public sex, mentions of a sir kink, some very accidental cum eating that is hilarious and disgusting all at once. Namjoon and Slick are both complete and utter idiots, like it’s genuinely a miracle that they’ve lived this long, especially when paired together.

{ The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist }

a/n } hello it is i with yet another fic. it’s done. i. have a lot of emotions bUT that’s neither here nor there. This is part of The Snowball Effect collab, and while it can be read as a standalone, all the fics end in the same spot and there are so many crossovers that it legitimately hurts to think about for too long, so for the best and funniest and fluffiest experience, we recommend that you read all of them in order!! Special shoutout to ashley, kristi, and ryn (@taehyungforreal, @stutterfly, and @fortunexkookie, respectively) for letting me part of this wonderful adventure. i’m more honored than i could ever say with words, and i’m grateful every day that i got the chance to work with all of you on this absolutely phenomenal collab. for those of you who are just now seeing this, i implore you to read the others, as they are literal light years better than this, and i could not possibly live up to the absolute beauty of the other authors in this collab, but i still hope you enjoy my shiny garbage child aka this fic.

The first time you ever saw Kim Namjoon was on your very first day at the lab where you both work. You won't ever forget it, not because he's the walking embodiment of beauty nor because he's the most intelligent person you've ever met besides yourself. No, that day stays firmly implanted in your memory because that was the day the two of you nearly got fired for setting the building on fire.

In a genetics lab.

You don't even work with chemicals. Maybe if you did, they would have been more understanding, but you don't and instead, everyone was completely flabbergasted that the two of you very nearly destroyed the building because you tried to reheat your leftover Chinese food - and really, how perfect is it that he also prefers the place across town instead of on the corner, and that he eats all the vegetables you pick out of your rice while you eat the eggrolls he isn't a fan of - in the microwave at the same time. Sure, your IQ is close to 300 when combined, but also, how are you supposed to remember that the bottom part of the takeout is made of foil? You were trying to single out a gene sequence that might help cancer research. Microwaves were not important.

Until it exploded a little and set the fire suppression systems off in all the labs and affected several billion dollars worth of research.

Honestly, the two of you are lucky you still have your jobs.

Less lucky that the insurance company wouldn't pay for the entire cost so both you and Namjoon had to take pretty severe pay cuts to help cover the costs.

Even less lucky that it means you could no longer afford your apartment by yourself and subsequently had to try to find a roommate in less than a week, which the internet is not helpful for, it doesn't matter what your coworkers say.

Which really just highlights that it's your own fault that you're in this situation in the first place, you think as you slam back another shot. It's been months, and yes, you found a roommate, and yes , things between the two of you are working better than you could have imagined, but god , at what cost?

You catch a glimpse of dimples heading your way and down the rest of the Kamikaze that you've been nursing all night. You might regret that later, the alcohol might make you do something you'd never do otherwise, but you can always pretend you don't remember. Besides, it's so much harder to handle Namjoon while you're completely sober; you never quite know what to say or what to do.

He doesn't bother to sit in the empty stool beside you, just slides into the space between you and it and lets one arm rest casually on the back of your barstool as he leans in to be heard over the live band that's playing. You don't look at him, you don't trust yourself to look at him, not with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone. You know he looks deliciously rumpled. You're entirely too familiar with the sight.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks. You shrug even as you start pulling your coat on, doing your best to ignore the way the heat of his breath brushed over your neck in the way that always gets you hot and bothered. "We don't have to if you don't want to," He says quickly, but you wave him off.

"No, it's fine, I promise. I'm not enjoying the band as much as I thought I would anyway."

When the ride you summoned stops at your apartment building, Namjoon pays and follows you up. The alcohol has started seeping into your bloodstream, and for a moment you regret that last drink. You're not drunk, not really, but you're on the farther side of tipsy and thoughts are swirling in your head that you wish would go somewhere else. Plus you're really fucking hungry now, and also kinda tired, and you're really glad tomorrow's Saturday so you can sleep in.

"What's got you in your head?" Namjoon asks as you fumble to unlock the door. You just shrug noncommittally, unwilling to tell him about it. He doesn't pry either, just sets to work pulling leftover tacos out of the fridge and sticking them in the microwave, remembering at the last second to take the plastic off the top so your food doesn't get coated in melted saran wrap. The two of you eat in relative silence before you manage to make yourself go into your room and strip out of your work clothes and then slide under the covers.

You don't listen as he goes into the room across the hall, you don't listen as the shower starts up, you don't listen at the off-key singing that he does. You don't. You can't let yourself, because then your drunk ass won't be able to keep your mouth shut the next time you see him - as you're both eating breakfast tomorrow, probably - and you'll say some super embarrassing shit like "hey I know it's partially my fault you couldn't afford your rent and you know I'm really grateful that you moved in with me, but you're also like hot as the surface of the sun and your dimples are really cute too, please fuck me stupid, I'm literally begging you."

Because that's the issue with living and working with Namjoon. There is no escape. Before you could come home and masturbate in peace while thinking about how his chest looks so utterly perfect in those button-ups, and how the muscles in his forearm flex when he's got his sleeves rolled up, and how his jaw does that muscle clench thing whenever he's focused on something.

But no. Now he lives with you , and not only are you both on the same schedules and therefore he’s never not home when you are, therefore depriving you of your precious Alone Time, but! You get a front-row view to how he looks in the mornings, with his hair all messy, and how he always forgets that the flavor packet goes in the ramen after you cook it, and how he bundles up every time he goes on walks with Moni, and-

The door to the bathroom creaks open and you force your eyes not to close. You inspect the stuccoed ceiling the entire time it takes his footsteps to make it into his room because otherwise, you're just going to remember that first week after he moved in, when he would have to go to his room with just a towel around his waist because his clothes were in boxes and he hadn't unpacked and he'd forgotten to take anything in the bathroom with him.

The memory of his absolutely fucking ridiculous pectorals dripping with water and his god damn superb biceps flexed and delicious-looking, none of it hidden under the slightly-too-big shirts he wears to work...it haunts you. To this day.

The sound of his door closing echoes through the hall and into your room. It’s through an incredibly impressive force of will that you don’t imagine what he’s doing right now, just across the hall. You resolutely do not imagine him sliding that towel from around his waist and revealing the gorgeous glistening golden thighs that strain against his work khakis so wonderfully. Nor do you think of the way he twists his neck to pop it while he does his after-shower stretches - because that’s a normal thing that normal people totally do - and you absolutely are not thinking of the way the scent of sandalwood and steam trails after him when he’s freshly showered and you are definitively not thinking about-

A loud, high-pitched moan followed by the slapping of skin on skin echoes through the apartment, jolting you upright and out of your thoughts as you stare in shock at the back of your bedroom door.

Something thuds against the carpeted floor of Namjoon’s room and the sound abruptly cuts off. The silence that follows is deafening, and your ears ring with it.

Surely….surely he wasn’t….

A thought, unbidden and cursed, flits through your mind before you can stop it. You can’t even blame the residual alcohol in your body for the way you stand and open your bedroom door, or how you slip your super soft silk robe over your shoulders and tie it loosely around your waist, nor for the way you take the two steps to stand in front of Namjoon’s, but you absolutely blame your quickly-returning sobriety for the way you hesitate in front of it.

He’s going to say no, anyway, so what’s the harm? Things are awkward for a day or two and then we move on, right?

You knock before you can talk yourself out of it. It takes a few minutes, but Namjoon does eventually open the door. His chest is still bare but he’s got on the soft-looking plaid pajama pants that you adore, albeit they are on backwards , and his face is flushed with color.

You're 98% sure that it's because he just had his hand around his cock. You're significantly less sure if you hate or love the fact that you know that.

“Hey,” You say awkwardly.

“Hey,” He responds, just as awkward.

You both stand there for a second while you work up the courage to ask what’s been going around and around in your mind.

“I just heard that thud and got worried,” is what eventually makes it out. Namjoon’s face flushes further, and his nose scrunches in the cutest way. “Just...wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know. Dead. Haha.”

He smiles at your laugh, even though it’s dead and humorless, and warmth blooms in your chest.

“I’m alright. Sorry for any, uh…” He squints, clearly searching for the word he wants to use that won’t immediately give him away - like the entire apartment building hadn’t heard that noise. “Disturbances.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine!” You tell him, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was just. Uh. Y’know how bonobos will often have recreational sex with non-monogamous partners just because they’re bored or as a way to work out the tension between members of the unit-groups and they enjoy said recreational sex, even though there’s no real emotional attachment to the other parties involved?”

Namjoon stares at you for a long, silent moment.

“Yeah, I know about bonobos,” He eventually says. “I didn’t know that about bonobos, but I guess that’s the fun fact quota for the day.”

Your face heats and you’ve never quite wished the ground would swallow you up until this very moment.

“Oh,” You say, dumbly. “Well. That’s a thing. That bonobos do.”

“I got that,” Namjoon says. He bites down on his lower lip in what’s probably an innocuous way to not smile at how ridiculous you’re being, but when paired with the golden expanse of chest, it’s utterly obscene.

“Would you like to have recreational sex with me?”

“ What? ”

“No strings attached, no feelings, nothing but some nice fun recreational intercourse between two consenting adults of sound mind. Would you be interested?”

“I...why are you asking me? ” He asks incredulously, and you resist the urge to kiss the surprise off his face. How is it surprising at all when he walks around looking like that ?

“Because in the time we’ve known each other as coworkers, roommates, and friends, I think we could be very sexually compatible and even if we aren’t, I’m confident enough in our friendship to believe we could still be friends afterward.” You tell him firmly. “Besides, you’re literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?”

“You’re...serious about this? You’re not playing some kind of joke on me?”

“Why would I play a joke on you, Namjoon? I haven’t been able to get off for literal weeks - ever since you moved in, actually - and I’m at a bit of a breaking point.”

“And you’re not drunk?”

“Completely sober,” You assure him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand over his jaw, not making eye contact as he considers. It’s the same thoughtful expression that he gets when he’s trying to figure out some complex equation at work. With how long it’s been since you last came, however, it’s only making you wetter.

"Fuck it," He mutters, seconds before his hands cup your jaw to pull you into a kiss.

It's awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm that you both enjoy while still being able to breathe. His lips are slightly chapped and you both stumble as he starts walking backwards towards the bed, but it's so wonderful. His hand against your jaw is warm and comforting, even as his other hand is slipping teasingly under your robe and his teeth suckle a mark into your collarbone.

Movement on the bed catches your attention and you flush when you realize it's Moni, Namjoon's very sweet dog that came with him when he moved in.

"Uh, Namjoon?" You breathe. It's hard to focus on anything that isn't the way he's teasing at the band of your panties, but the way Moni is staring at you is captivating. "Dog."

Namjoon freezes, hands disappearing from your skin, and he either doesn't hear or doesn't acknowledge your needy whine at the loss of contact.

"What, what's wrong? Is that your safeword? What did I do?"

"No, Joon," You can barely hear yourself think over the stream of apologies pouring from his lips, and it isn't until you grip his shoulders and forcibly turn him to look at his dog that he shuts up.

" Oh ," He whispers. "The dog." He clicks his tongue a couple of times and Moni hops down from the bed, though not without giving Namjoon the saddest eyes possible. Moni disappears down the hallway, probably to go lay on the couch, and Namjoon shuts the door behind him. "Sorry," he says bashfully.

"Don't be sorry," You respond with a smile. " Do , however, fuck me until I can't move."

A growl vibrates in his chest, surprising you, and you're bouncing atop his mattress before you can think.

He doesn't say anything else, too focused on the way your folds feel against his tongue as he slides your robe up your thighs. Words are hardly possible for you when he makes you come the first time. Even less so when he turns you onto your hands and knees, presses your face into the mattress, and proceeds to pound into you so hard that the nightstand shakes. Still, your knees are made weak by something else entirely.

It's the tender awareness in his touch; he's firm and unyielding but so, so cautious, consistently testing your reactions before he continues. The way his voice - deepened and husky with desire - sounds in your ear when he asks if what he's doing is okay, if you like it, if you want to keep going. It's how he teases you gently about how wet you are - "God damn, is this all for me? You're so fucking wet, so slick and ready for me, sweetheart," - the way he's so absolutely tuned in to your own needs and desires, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you like it's second nature, his own high an afterthought when you've clenched too tight around him.

It's the way he brings you water and some fruit afterward and gently cleans you up while you eat before sliding your robe carefully over the blossoming purple marks he sucked into your shoulders. It's the way he didn't close his bedroom door until yours clicked behind you.

"This was the best idea I've ever had," you sigh happily to yourself as you drift off to sleep.

“So you’ve got a sir kink?” Namjoon asks several days later, face pressed into a microscope more expensive than your entire apartment building. He doesn’t look at you, even as you tear your eyes away from the computer screen in front of you to glance at him curiously.

“I do,” You tell him. He shifts in his chair and you bite back a grin. “Is that a problem? We don’t have to use it.”

“No, it’s fine,” He says quickly. “Just thought it was interesting. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Namjoon, we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and in that time, we’ve hardly had a conversation about what kinks we enjoy and what we don’t. How would you expect anything?”

“Just...didn’t expect it, that’s all.” He’s quiet for a minute and a sliver of guilt lodges in your throat. You’re right, the two of you haven’t known each other for very long, especially not in a sexual manner, but you could’ve maybe phrased it better.

“I’m sorry-”

“We should-”

Both of you stop midsentence, turning away from your work to laugh with each other.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Namjoon says with a dimpled smile. “I know what you meant, and you’re right. We don’t know what the other enjoys, so we shouldn’t go into this with any expectations.”

“Maybe we should, though,” You say, marking a sequence that catches your eye so you’ll remember to come back and fully examine it later. “I mean, we can’t exactly fulfill our sexual needs without knowing what said needs are. For instance, how often do you orgasm every week?”

Something tumbles on Namjoon’s desk, and when you look over he’s got the microscope cradled carefully in his hands a few feet above the floor.

“Uh...maybe twice,” He eventually says.

“Hm. Duly noted.” You turn back to the monitor in front of you, marking another sequence for inspection.

“Well...how often do you orgasm each week?” He asks. His voice is hesitant, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask.

“Depends,” You tell him. “When I’m close to my period or ovulating, it’s usually once a day, if not twice, because my sex drive is higher, but otherwise it’s usually every other day or so.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t worry, I’m more than willing to take care of myself on the nights where you need a break. I don’t expect you to keep up with my sex drive.”

“I mean...I could .”

You turn away from the monitor to look at him, quirking a brow. He quirks his own in return and you can’t help the way your eyes travel down his form. He’s wearing contacts instead of his glasses - always does during the workweek, since it’s easier to use a microscope that way - but the light purple shirt sets off the platinum blonde of his hair and his thighs strain against the material of his khakis. It all adds up to make him look absolutely delectable, especially since you know full well what’s hiding underneath those pants.

“I could,” He repeats. “If you want me to.”

Your eyes meet his and you have no doubt he’s been eyeing you the same way you’ve been eyeing him.

“I think it might be time for our lunch break, Mr. Kim,” You tell him, eyes darting to the clock on your desk. “I was thinking of going out to get something, would you like to join me?”

Namjoon is already standing and grabbing his jacket, and you would laugh at how eager he is if you weren’t the same way. You can already feel heat beginning to pool between your legs and the two of you rush out of the office in such a hurry that you hardly notice when you run straight into the mail cart.

“Nice going, Slick!” Kihyun yells after you, and you wish you were ashamed of the way that your knees tremble at the reminder of how it felt to have Namjoon call you that while buried inside of your warmth.

“They have no idea,” Namjoon mutters, fingers twisting with yours so he can pull you down a hallway and towards an unused office. “If they only knew just how slick you really are.”

You shiver and slam the door closed as Namjoon sinks to his knees.

The amount of times the two of you fuck at work is utterly ridiculous after that. You have an actual conversation with him about kinks and hard limits and soft limits and all that fun grown-up stuff that’s necessary of an adult relationship, of course, and that only adds to the fire between the two of you.

He’s more than willing to let you call him Sir while you’re on your hands and knees in front of him, and you’re absolutely willing to ride him into oblivion in those moments when he doesn’t want to be in charge or when he’s had a hard day at work and just wants to relax. Those are your favorite times, actually; when he just sits on the couch and drives himself up into you while you’re fucking yourself back down onto him, eyes clenched shut as his hands glide up your spine and knead your ass.

The slow, lazy way his hips meet yours is absolutely addictive, you can’t even lie, but you can’t deny that it’s the moment after you’ve both cum that are the real danger. When you’re both panting and spent, laying against the soft sheets on his bed or the cool leather of your couch, and his arm drapes around your torso for those few moments it takes him to regain his breath.

It’s dangerous, so dangerous, because you’ve already agreed not to have feelings involved in this. You’re friends with benefits, nothing more and nothing less, and you cannot let yourself forget that. Not in the mornings when you wander out in his shirt to find that he’s made breakfast - ordered it, actually, but it’s the thought that counts - or when you walk into work together and he doesn’t hesitate to open the doors for you without even breaking stride, as if it’s second nature to do so. As if he’s used to it.

It’s when the two of you are at the mall together that reality hits you in the face.

You’re both on the hunt for different things; he’s got a birthday present he still has to buy and wants to pick up some new treats and sweaters for Moni, while you’re on the hunt for a new toaster to rival that of your old one - which you destroyed on accident by using a metal fork to dig a piece of bread out of. While it was plugged in. And hot.

Your hands still sting a little, but the ER nurse was adamant that you would be alright. So long as you didn’t try to electrocute yourself again.

“Wait, so you’re not going to be here for New Year’s Eve?” You clarify, popping a piece of chocolate into your mouth.

“No, I’m heading up to Taehyung’s cabin with the rest of the guys. It’s an annual thing, I don’t even remember how it got started,” Namjoon tells you as he peers into the window of some box store that you already know isn’t going to have anything Taehyung will like.

“Hm, I guess it’s good I work then, so I can walk Moni.”

Namjoon shoots you an odd look. “You don’t work, and Jackson’s watching Moni.”

“Uh...I’m pretty sure I work on New Year’s Eve, Namjoon. I would’ve made plans otherwise.”

“Slick, I’m exactly one hundred percent sure the office is closed for New Year’s because it is every year.” He sneaks a piece of chocolate and wrinkles his nose when he realizes it’s mint chocolate.

“No, because my schedule says-” You start, pulling your phone out to open said schedule so you can show him just how wrong he is. “That I work the next morning. That’s why I didn’t make plans.”

Namjoon just smiles and taps at the screen. “That’s December, Slick. You’re looking at December first.”

You pull the phone back and stare at it, horror washing over you when you see that he’s right.

You’re going to be spending New Year’s alone, for the first time in years, and loneliness fills you at that thought. Your parents are an entire plane ride away, on vacation for their retirement in some tropical paradise that you can’t remember the name of; your old friends are in an entirely different city, likely already with plans of their own, and you don’t know nearly enough people at work or outside of it to have any idea what people are doing.

“Oh man,” Namjoon breathes, clearly oblivious to the sudden onset of loneliness that’s hit you. “I knew it was going to be hilarious, but I had no idea it was going to be this good .”

You look up to find him focused on his phone, camera pointing at something you can’t quite make out through the small screen. You follow the view, a reluctant smile breaking out when you spot Hope on the Street dancing along to some holiday song while dressed as an elf.

“Isn’t that the news anchor that got in trouble for doing anal?” You ask. Namjoon cackles - there’s no other word for it, it’s a cackle - and nods.

“Yeah, Hoseok’s been forced into doing this as a publicity stunt. We’ve all been looking forward to seeing him do it, too, but god , I had no idea it would be this funny to see. Hobi as a Christmas elf, can you imagine?”

“Hobi?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a close friend of mine,” Namjoon says, eyes never straying from the video as he plays it back. “He’s gonna be at the cabin too, with his girlfriend Cat. There’s like seven of us who all grew up in the same little neighborhood, and we all kept pretty close as we got older. It’s like a little mini-family.”

“Oh,” You say softly. Namjoon tucks his phone back into his pocket and looks around, lighting up as he spots something else. “I didn’t know you knew Hope on the Street.”

“Yeah, he’s a dork,” Namjoon says as he pulls you towards some children’s store. “Come on, I think Yoongi’s working and I like to watch his little dance when he makes the hearts.”

You barely pay attention as Namjoon hurries into the toy store. You don’t join him inside, too busy lost in your own thoughts.

You should’ve realized, you scold yourself. You should’ve known better. You got comfortable, you got complacent and happy, too enamored with the way Namjoon feels inside of you and the warmth of his hand in yours to realize that you’re still on the outside.

He and his friends are all going up to some cabin, with their girlfriends apparently, to hang out and have fun together for New Year’s. He didn’t invite you. You’ve lost yourself in the fantasy and complacency of how warm he feels, how it feels like coming home whenever you see him, even when you knew better.

You knew better than to get attached. You told yourself, every step of the way, not to get attached, don’t develop feelings, it’s just sex, and yet…

And yet your heart is breaking in your chest that he didn’t invite you along, that he didn’t even think to do so. It’s not even fair to him, it’s not his fault that you got too caught up in the domesticity and familiarity of him to remember that this isn’t serious. Why would he invite you? You’re his roommate, a coworker, the girl he fucks every so often. You aren’t his girlfriend, you aren’t anyone important to his friends.

You’re just the roommate.

“Hey, look at this bear I made, it’s got a little microscope and everything! It’s perfect for-”

“Sorry,” You interrupt, ignoring the way Namjoon’s smile dims ever so slightly. “I just realized that I’ve got to finish up some analyses before the office closes for the holiday, I’ve gotta go do that. But it’s cute, Moni’ll love it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon’s voice is hushed, and his brows are drawn together. He can obviously tell something’s off, but if you’re lucky, maybe he won’t be able to pinpoint exactly what. “I’ll see you at home then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you back at the apartment,” You say quickly, not even looking at him as you hurry off the other way.

You just need space, you tell yourself. You just need some distance so you can get your emotions under control. You can’t be around him when all you want to do is kiss him senseless and tell him how much you want to wake up in his bed forever, how you never want to miss another walk with Moni. He can’t know.

He won’t know.

"I fucked up."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Jimin’s voice says from the other end of the phone.

Namjoon groans, resisting the urge to slam his head back against the cabinets. He's standing in the kitchen now, staring longingly at the fridge and whatever food it may contain, because you’re out grocery shopping now, and he would love for you to come back to a hot meal, but there’s a reason you’re grocery shopping this late at night.

"You remember how in college everyone teased me because I'm terrible at one-night stands and I bet Hobi a week's groceries that I totally could?"

"Yes," Jimin says slowly. Something clinks on the other end of the line, and Namjoon wonders what Jimin’s having for dinner. His stomach rumbles in response and he heaves himself across the kitchen to dig through the fridge while Jimin continues. "I also remember how you spent weeks pining over said one-night stand while Hoseok filled the cupboards with every single thing he thought he could get away with buying. Why are you bringing that up now?"

Namjoom stays quiet but hums in victory as he unearths a pizza that isn’t too terribly old. “How long can pizza live in the fridge before it would kill me if I ate it?”

“If you have to ask that question, it’s been too long,” Jimin tells him. Namjoon debates, eyeing the pizza before deciding it looks fine and turning the oven on before sliding the pizza in. “Now, why are you bringing up one night stands and then pizza?”

"You remember how that new girl started at work a few months ago and we ate lunch together and then nearly got fired?"

"Yes, I distinctly remember writing you notes on takeout containers for weeks reminding you not to put foil in the microwave. What does-" Jimin stops, and Namjoon gets the distinct impression that if they were having this conversation in person, he’d be getting the Look. "Joon, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't have a one night stand with her," Namjoon assures him.

"Good," Jimin says, heaving a sigh of relief. "God only knows what would happen with a one night stand with your roommate-"

"We're friends with benefits."

Jimin chokes on whatever he’s eating and Namjoon winces sympathetically.

"It's not that bad," The elder says before Jimin can scold him. "We're very sexually compatible. And she's amazing, Jimin, you don't even know-"

"Joon, isn't this the same girl you spent an entire four hours talking about the day she started working with you?"

"Yeah, so?"

The blonde gives a heavy sigh. Namjoon knows the younger well enough to know he’s shaking his head right now.

"Please be careful, Namjoon," Jimin eventually says.

"Oh, don't worry, we've both been tested, and we use condoms every time, there's nothing to worry about."

"That's not the kind of careful I mean," Jimin sighs. He's quiet for a minute as he eats and Namjoon waits for his pizza to be heated enough to eat. "Why do you say you fucked up if you’ve been careful?”

“I…” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I think she’s upset with me. We were at the mall the other day and it was fine, we were laughing at how Hobi looks dressed as an elf-”

“God that video was hilarious -”

“Right?!” They both laugh a little, fondly remembering the sight, before Namjoon sobers. “And then she just...changed. She got all quiet and skittish and ran off before I could give her the bear I made. She didn’t even look at it.”

“And it just happened out of nowhere? What were you talking about?”

“How she’s off work for New Year’s and I’m heading up to the cabin so she doesn’t have to watch Moni or anything, and then I saw Yoongi doing that dance at the store so I wanted to go watch him, and-” He stops, eyes focused on the air in front of him.

“Joon? You good?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” He begins, a realization hitting him all at once, “What would happen if I put a pizza in the oven to reheat without taking it out of the box?”

“Oh my fucking god, Namjoon, get it out!”

There’s a flurry of smoke while Namjoon does just that and rushes to open the window so he can let some of the smoke out before you get back home. Jimin’s still berating him - albeit fondly - when he picks the phone back up.

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says quickly, “It’s cool, nothing’s actually on fire anymore. And the pizza’s warm!”

“Oh my god, how have you survived this long.” Namjoon smiles at Jimin’s words; he gets a lot of shit for being wildly unobservant, but he knows that the others love him dearly. Why else would they still talk to him? Really, after the incident with the tub at Jungkook’s apartment, it’s truly a miracle he still has friends, and love is the only explanation.

“But seriously, I don’t know what I did with Slick. Do you think I was too...obvious?”

“Namjoon,” Jimin says seriously. “If this girl is anything like you, and based on that time she tried to screenshot a crack in phone screen I’m inclined to believe she is, then I think the issue is that you aren’t being obvious enough . You said she got all weird after you mentioned the cabin, right?”

“Yeah. I thought she’d be happy that she wouldn’t be stuck with Moni, but-”

“Did you consider that since she thought she was working, she doesn’t have any other plans and is now stuck in the apartment by herself since she just moved here recently?”

“Oh.” Guilt surges through him as the door opens and your voice echoes that you picked up some takeout while you were gone. “I gotta go.”

“Ah-ah,” Jimin says quickly. “My payment?”

“Yes, Jimin, I love you dearly, you are the light of my life, I would never have survived this long were it not for your sage wisdom, I owe you my firstborn.”

“Much better! Some of the others could learn from you.” Jimin’s laugh continues long after he’s hung up, Namjoon is sure of it.

You aren’t sure why the apartment smells like smoke when you get back, but you decide not to question it and just be grateful you had the foresight to pick up some takeout on your way back from the store.

When you get into the kitchen, Namjoon is there, with a smoking pizza box on the stove beside him. He’s not in his work clothes; instead, he looks comfortable and cozy in some sweats and a faded tee with his glasses halfway down his nose. Your heart lurches painfully in your chest at the sight and you force yourself to remember that he isn’t yours .

“Hey! Did you hear me? I got takeout, since I figured neither of us wanted to cook. And I’m glad I did, what’s with the smoke?” A thought strikes you as you set the bags on the table. “Oh no, did you try to use the toaster? I told you not to, it got weird after that night with the fork, we need to replace it.”

“Do you wanna go to the cabin?”

You freeze, halfway to the fridge to put away the ice cream that he likes. “What?” You ask.

“The cabin. Do you want to go with me for New Year’s Eve, with everyone?” Namjoon takes the ice cream and finishes your journey for you, sticking it in the freezer without a second thought. “If you don’t want to take advantage of a quiet apartment, that is. You’re welcome to join, and I figured that was obvious, but then I realized that it may not be, so I wanted to offer.”

“With you and all of your friends? I don’t really... know any of them.”

“That’s fine, they’re not that bad. They’re all pretty friendly, once you get to know them at least.” Namjoon says as he takes some vegetables out of your hands to put them in the fridge as well. “And I have no doubt that the others are going to bring some of their friends. Yoongi’s girlfriend will be there, she seems sweet. And Cat and Star are always nice, you’d love them.”

You hesitate, though you aren’t sure why. This is what you wanted, so why doesn’t it make you happy?

“Besides, they’ll all be happy to have another friend around to bother. Jin loves to feed people.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you and your heart does something complex that you can’t explain. There’s the rush of excitement and the skipped beat that always comes with his dimples, but it twists and clenches as well. Because of course, he’s just taking you as a friend.

You’re friends. And that’s fine. If you repeat yourself enough times then you’ll believe it. You have to.

“Yeah, sure!” You say with a grin. “I’d like that. They always sound so fun, it’ll be nice to meet them for real.”

Namjoon beams and helps you put the rest of the groceries away before you both settle in to eat. It’s not anything fancy, simple and quick and just enough to get the two of you through the night so that you didn’t have to cook. You chat about work as you do, a few sequences that might prove promising if you can work them the right way.

It’s afterward, as you’re both curled up on opposite sides of the couch while some nature documentary plays in the background, that you notice it.

He’s been fidgety all night, even before you left to get the food, and you didn’t think anything of it before. But now he’s even worse, hands rubbing along his thighs nervously while he shoots you look after look, which you have no doubt he thinks you don’t notice.

“What is up with you?” You ask him eventually, ignoring the way some bug is eating another bug’s head onscreen.

“Nothing,” he says in a rush. “Just...ready for bed.”

“Then go to bed.” You say it like it’s obvious, because it is. If he’s so ready to sleep, then he should go; neither of you has ever expected the other to stay up and watch TV together. You’re individuals.

“Okay,” he says softly, adjusting his glasses as he stands. He gets all the way to his bedroom door before he comes back, hovering awkwardly in the hall entrance for several seconds before he finally sits back down on the couch. Now, however, he’s sitting with his thigh pressed against yours, the heat radiating through the shorts you’re wearing and searing into your skin.

He’s still fidgety, still uneasy for some reason, and it’s as you turn to ask him what the hell’s going on that he pulls you into a kiss. It’s soft and lingering and it makes your stomach flip in all the ways it isn’t supposed to.

“If you wanted to have sex, you should have just said so,” You whisper against his lips. You can feel it more than hear it as he starts to say something and then cuts himself off with a sigh.

“I wanna be inside you,” he says instead. “Please.”

Heat pools between your legs, even at such simple words, and you find yourself nodding. He kisses you again, frantic and much more heated than before, and you can already tell what it’ll be like tonight.

You’re right, too; it’s quick and dirty. You don’t even make it to the bed, not at first. He cages you against the wall in the hallway and slides a hand between your bodies to start to draw your first orgasm out. It’s the whine from the dog that makes you realize where you are, pulling apart long enough to stare at where Moni sits at the hallway entrance, head cocked to the side and watching you with a confused stare.

That gets you into the bedroom, the door shut behind you as you fall together onto the bed. The two of you barely get your clothes off before Namjoon’s sliding inside of you and groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck, Slick, you’re so wet,” he whispers against your skin as he thrusts. You can hardly make words, too focused on the way he fits inside of you and the absolute certainty that you cannot say a single word running through your head.

Not that you’re in love with the way he holds your hips so gently as he thrusts, not how he whispers praise and adoration against you with every press of his lips to your skin, and certainly not how you want to stay like this forever. That you’re absolutely positive you’ve broken the cardinal rules of being fuckbuddies.

Don’t get feelings.

But you were a fool, anyway. Because it’s easy to break rules, especially when you go into it with feelings.

The first orgasm hits you with a shockwave, and with the way Namjoon hits your g-spot, it’s followed by a second shortly after. Your hands claw into the sheets as he fills the condom, and it only takes a minute for him to clean himself up enough to relax in the bed beside you, but you hardly notice; you’re too busy adjusting to the emptiness that you’re left with now that he isn’t inside you, the yearning that fills you down to your bones with the need to be wrapped up in his arms and cradled to his chest as you both drift to sleep.

You force yourself up before you can get comfortable, fatigue sweeping through your bones.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go shower,” You tell him. It’s a feat to keep your voice neutral, but you think you manage. “And then head to bed, I think. Uh, thanks. For the orgasms.”

The door to the bathroom closes behind you before he can even get a word out, and you force the image of his confused face out of your mind as you turn the water on. It takes every part of you to resist the urge to linger in the hot spray for longer than you need to be there, but you manage.

By the time you’re slipping into bed, the light in Namjoon’s room is off and you can hear Moni settling into bed beside Namjoon. You can practically see them, curled up together all warm and settled in together. Content.

You slip between your own sheets and wrap the fluffy blanket around you. Emotions are swirling in your gut and you do your best to ignore them all. You don’t need to focus on the way you want to be there with them, the way you want to curl your body into his with Moni between you, just the way he likes on the couch.

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had,” You tell yourself with a sigh as you try to fall asleep in your lonely bed.

You don’t know that across the hall, Namjoon lays awake with Moni beside him, wondering how he fucked up so badly that you’re not in his arms anymore. He’d have every intention to tell you about his feelings. He wanted to end this friends-with-benefits thing, put it to rest so that he could take you out for real. So you could be together , for real.

But you’d just bolted the second he was collapsing onto the bed, like you were running from something, and he wasn’t about to keep you here when you don’t want to be here.

Still, he thinks as Moni burrows under the blankets to get closer to him, he can’t help but wish you were up against him as well, with your breathing steady and quiet as you sleep and he can feel your chest move with it.

He just really wishes that you wanted that too.

The drive to the cabin is uneventful. You and Namjoon talk about work most of the way, chatting amicably about a few things that got corrupted in the data that have been frustrating to rebuild and how excited Moni was to see Jackson when he picked the pup up that day.

You’re only a little nervous when you spot the wooden sign specifying that it belongs to the Kims. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Namjoon’s friends, seen one or two in passing when they come by the apartment to see Namjoon, though you tend to give them space when that happens.

Still, nothing could ever compare to the welcome that greets you. There’s some kind of karaoke going on, with Taehyung and Star watching from the couch. There are crutches propped up nearby and you wonder what the story is there for the few seconds before your attention is drawn to the kitchen, where who you assume is Seokjin is scolding someone for shoving entirely too many cookies into their mouth. You catch sight of someone - blonde, giggling, followed by a sweet-looking girl - run out of the kitchen with his cheeks puffed out and crumbs on his lips, and you shoot Namjoon a look.

“Jimin,” He explains with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go claim the den before someone else can get to it.”

That night is hectic, to say the least. Namjoon was right when he said his friends are welcoming, though; everyone is friendly and talkative - except for Pumpkin, Seokjin’s best friend who genuinely looks like she’s about to murder someone for the few moments that you see her during dinner but Namjoon assures you “That’s just her face, I promise.” Even when the boys get to reminiscing about the days they spent in that cul-de-sac, they include everyone else in their stories.

Especially fun is when they all come up with theories about why Cat and Hobi are late, and while from what you’ve heard so far tonight, you agree with the proposal that they’re probably fucking, you still feel a sliver of worry for them.

It’s the mention of sex that gets your stomach churning, though. Because Namjoon shoots you a knowing look, the same one he gets when you wear those ultra-short shorts around the house that he adores, and you already know what he wants. You can’t even say you don’t want it, too, because you don’t think you could ever turn down the opportunity to have him like that. It’s just so bittersweet when it ends-

“I’m going to start on dessert,” Seokjin states as he gathers plates. Yoongi and Peaches are gone in record time, and Taehyung and Star follow not long after, though it takes considerably longer with the way Taehyung helps her. Seokjin calls after them all that he’ll have dessert ready in a little while, and Namjoon shoots you another look when Jimin and Pumpkin don’t move from the table.

“C’mon,” Namjoon whispers, grabbing your hand and urging you down the hallway. “Get our bags, we’re gonna steal Jin’s room.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best idea,” You whisper in return, though you do in fact grab the bags as he directs. “Isn’t that also Pumpkin’s room? Are we sure she won’t murder us?”

“No, it’ll be fine, Jin would never let her.” The thought isn’t as comforting as Namjoon means it to be, but you manage to get your bags in the room and their bags out without anyone the wiser.

You realize your mistake too late. This room only has one bed. A singular sleeping area. The den has couches, you would have been fine, but you can’t sleep here. You can’t share the bed with Namjoon; it’s entirely too dangerous. Getting to see him still completely sleep soft, warm against you as the two of you doze in the early morning light?

There would be no coming back from that.

The thought leaves nearly as quick as it enters, driven away by the slide of Namjoon’s arms as he wraps them around you.

"Do you want it, Slick?" His voice is deep and rumbling, almost a purr in your ear, and it makes your knees weak. It's truly ridiculous how easy it is for him to rile you up, but fuck , can you really complain?

Except you can, because it's not what you want. It's not everything you want. You can't ask for more, though, not when he doesn't want to give it.

His hands snake towards the waistband of your pants - fancy grey pinstriped pants that you bought specifically because Namjoon told you that Seokjin has a fancy dress code for New Year's Eve - and your heart jumps up into your throat. You spin in his arms, doing your best to look enthusiastic.

"I want to blow you," You tell him as you sink to your knees. He leans back against the wall and quirks a brow, but he nods his agreement.

You set to work almost immediately; you're determined to make this the best blowjob of his life. It's the least you can do. You don't tell him that, though; you can't tell him. Not this. Not that you're so deeply entrenched in your feelings for him that you're afraid if you don't get out now you won't be able to. Not that you can't bear to have him touch you because you're afraid of what will come out of your mouth, what you might say or reveal that he doesn't want to know.

Not when you're going to have to end this, as you decided while laying in bed two nights ago, cold and exhausted and utterly alone.

You focus again on Namjoon, reminding yourself to pay attention. His dick is big - big enough that your fingers can only barely meet when you wrap them around it, but it means your jaw aches deliciously when you go down on him, and you adore the feeling of it in your throat.

So you swallow him down completely, burying him to the hilt with one swift movement. You've been practicing, and it has clearly paid off if the choked moan that escapes him is any indication. His hands tangle in your hair, not pulling or pushing but instead just sitting there and moving with you as you pull off just to bury him again.

You look up and are pleased to find that his eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched tight against the moans building inside of his chest. But that won't do at all. The best blowjob of his life can't possibly be one where he doesn't even look at you.

To rectify the situation, you bring one hand up to tease at his balls, squeezing ever so slightly in the way you know he likes as you swallow around his cock. He does moan then, fingers clenching in your hair as he opens his eyes to look down at you.

"Fuck, just like that, Slick," He pleads. "Again, please again, it's perfect." You comply, humming an affirmative around his dick that makes him shudder before you swallow around him again. "God, fuck , you're so fucking perfect. Fucking amazing, the best, I can't believe I get to have this-"

Namjoon continues, mumbling in and out of coherency as you bop your head up and down on his cock. He's thick and heavy in your mouth and it feels like heaven on your tongue - it always does - and just when you think you can never get enough-

"Fuck, I love you so much, Slick, you're a god damn angel."

You pull off his dick, staring wide-eyed at him. Namjoon whines and looks down at you, clearly not comprehending what's just come out of his mouth.

"Fuck," He mutters. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I don't...I'm so sorry I didn't want you to know, especially not like this. Shit. "

"Are you serious?" You ask as you stand back up. Namjoon makes a belated movement to help steady you, blood flowing back into your calves from where you were kneeled down for a while, but he stops himself. He doesn't even look at you, really, instead staring out the window nearby. "Namjoon, seriously. Did you mean that?"

"I mean…" He hesitates, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Yeah. I did. I do. It's still new so I can't be entirely sure, but I think that's what this is."

He heaves a sigh and tucks himself back into his slacks before moving to sit on the bed, one hand running through his platinum hair.

"You weren't supposed to know," He mutters. "I thought I could keep it a secret. I didn't want to make it weird between us since you don't…"

"Since I don't...feel the same?" You ask as you sit beside him. "You really...care about me like that?"

"Yeah," Namjoon whispers with a grin. It's fond and sweet and everything you've ever wanted and it's so unbearably familiar because it's how he's always looked at you. "Ever since we almost burned the lab down, I think."

"Same," You breathe, and you can't deny the way that you love the light that sparks in his eyes at that. "Ever since you ate the vegetables out of my rice and gave me your eggrolls."

"Are you-"

"Yeah," You say with a laugh. "I guess we're kind of both at fault for this, then."

"Can I…" Namjoon trails off, searching for the words he wants. His hands move to wrap around yours, lacing your fingers together as he gives you a smitten smile. "We've been fucking for a while. As you know. But would you do me the honor of letting me make love to you?"

You gulp, an audible and atrocious thing, because his words send a surge of desire straight to your core. He's right, you have been fucking, because that's the only thing the two of you can call it. You don't make eye contact, you don't sleep over, there are rules , but god, the two of you break everything else, so why not this?

"Please," You whisper.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands following quickly after to strip your clothes off. You can't be sure when his clothes join the pile on the floor, just that one moment your fists are clenched in his shirt and the next, you're raking your nails down his bare back as he sucks purple marks into your neck.

"God, you're beautiful," He mutters. "Fucking divine."

"Then I match you, don't I?" You whisper. Two of his fingers slide into you, and both of you moan at the feeling. He glides them against your walls, teasing that one spot inside of you that he knows you adore, and you whine a little.

"Patience, my dear," He chuckles. When you whine again he grins, dimples making your stomach flip. "Alright then, Slick. Let me get a condom."

"No," You say quickly. "We've been exclusive, right? No risk or anything like that. I've got the implant. 98% effective. I want…"

"Say it, love," Namjoon breathes, eyes never leaving yours.

"I want to feel you. Please." He nods at your words and settles between your thighs once more. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of what's to come.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he says as he presses kisses to your neck, up your throat, and across your cheeks. He does it all to distract you as he slides inside, but he doesn't need to. You've been fucking him for months now, you know exactly how big he is, and you're more than ready for it.

What you aren't ready for is the way his skin feels against your walls, how you can feel every pulse and throb of his cock inside you. It's better than anything you've ever felt, beyond any descriptors you could find, and it only gets better as he slides out and then back in.

His pace is slow but steady, a rhythmic glide to it that's making you obscenely wet. It's a stark contrast to the gentle way he kisses you, the softness of his lips against yours. The sound of his skin hitting yours fills the room as he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," You tell him, sliding your hands along every inch of skin you can get.

Nothing is loud enough to mask the sound of the door opening, however, and when you glance over you can see that Hoseok and Cat have apparently finished whatever the fuck it was they were doing.

You shy back, doing your best to cover yourself from their eyes, but Namjoon's pace doesn't falter.

" Taken ," He growls. He doesn't even break eye contact as he does so, and the way his hand tightens on your hip makes you think he isn't just talking about the bedroom.

Thankfully the couple disappears after that, closing the door behind them as they go, and it flips a switch inside Namjoon somehow.

His pace speeds up, pistoning in and out of you mercilessly. He starts to angle his hips, searching until you finally cry out with your back arching up off the bed itself. He just smiles and continues to hit that spot, one hand moving to support your back while the other rubs teasing circles into your clit.

"That's it, love," he purrs. "Wanna watch you come for me like this. Let yourself fall apart on my cock, Slick, I'll be right here. I've got you."

You really wish you could figure out what exactly it is he does then; some kind of swivel of his hips while his fingers do some complicated twist or something, you have no doubt, but nevertheless, it's got you unraveling underneath him. You clench around him, harder than you ever have, and you can feel the sheets soaking underneath you from the strength of your orgasm.

It takes barely two more thrusts for Namjoon to come as well, stilling slightly as his cum hits your walls for the first time. It's warm and you can feel it settling inside of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy it.

You're both panting, out of breath and exhausted and having worked all the food Seokjin made out of your system. Namjoon disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm cloth to clean you up; his hands are tender as he does so, and you find yourself falling even deeper.

After a quick power nap and an even quicker quickie - because Namjoon insisted that it wasn't fair that you got to go down on him but he didn't get to go down on you - the two of you mingle with the others. Hoseok and Cat fit seamlessly into the group, filling a space you hadn't realized was missing during dinner. It's obvious to you, as you lean against the kitchen island and watch them all, just how much this group loves each other. Even the newcomers, like the new girlfriends, are absorbed so perfectly into the existing group that it's as if they never left.

Hell, even Pumpkin is smiling a little, although you can't be sure it's not just because Seokjin looks Like That.

"Ooh, icing," Namjoon says as he comes to join you in the kitchen. Seokjin barely gets a chance to say anything as Namjoon drags his thumb across the white droplet and sucks it into his mouth.

The baker looks horrified, and you wish you knew why. Namjoon agrees, based on the look on his face.

"What?" Namjoon asks. "It was good." Seokjin's face is as pale as it can possibly get when he waves Namjoon away, and you have a sneaking suspicion of just what your boyfriend put in his mouth.

You don't bother to hide your smile as said boyfriend comes over to you and hands you a glass of champagne.

"What are you so happy about?" He asks teasingly.

"You," You tell him honestly. It's worth it when he ducks his head, shy smile making his dimples stand out even as he tries to hide it. "I adore you."

Namjoon doesn't respond, just kisses you. He breaks away for a few minutes, saying something to someone else, and when the clock strikes midnight, he presses another gentle kiss to your lips.

"What are you wishing for?" He asks.

"Midnight wishes? Really?" You tease. He cocks a brow and you smile. "I don't need to wish for anything. I got everything I wanted this year."

"Really? Everything?"

You nod, straightening his tie ever so slightly. "And what about you? What are you wishing for?"

"Oh, that's easy." He wraps an arm around you and grins. "For you to finally accept the bear I made you that day in the mall."

"Moni loves that thing, I couldn't possibly take it from him."

"But it's got a microscope! And a lab coat!"

Well then," You tell him, dropping your voice so the others won't hear. "I suppose you'll have to make me another."

He glances over to where Yoongi and Peaches stand and then back to you.

"Covert mission to also get another for Jisoo?"

"Glad we're on the same page here," You tell him with a smile.

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darklingichor · 4 years ago

Text

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Buckle in kids, this one has my analytical muscles flexing!

I always said that I absorbed some of this epic through osmosis. GWTW is my mom's favorite book and one of her favorite movies. I remember wandering in and out of the living room at least once a year while she watched it. I would listen with half an ear as I played in the other room. A movie so long as to have an intermission just couldn't keep my attention as a kid. Of course I knew the story, just like I knew the story of a lot of fairy tales that I'd never actually had read to me. I didn't actually sit down and watch the movie in it's entirety until I was in my 20's. I liked it. It was well made, the acting was great and the story for all it's wince worthy moments and the surface polishing of such an ugly period in american history, was compelling.

I've never been able to get through the actual book. The reasons are going to sound a little silly. When I was younger, I thought : Why read it? I know the story. Tara is a plantation pre civil war, Scarlett lives at Tara, she's spoiled, she marries out of spite, gets widowed, Atlanta burns, she and her family become poor after the war, "As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again" she works hard, almost loses Tara, she marries for money, saves Tara, works hard, is widowed again, marries again, rocky relationship, a child passes, "Frankly my dear, I don't give damn", end credits. In between she pines over a guy she can't have, and manages to be all around an unpleasant person in general. Done and done. I was probably too young to read it then anyway.

When I got older and realized that a book could be complex with horrible things in it. I thought I should read it. But, every copy of the book I seemed to find had tiny tiny print and no paragraph breaks (the later being a a typical writing characteristic in the past). Even with my glasses I have a hard time reading a book in that format. I skip lines, reread lines, I always end up,with a,pounding headache. No matter how good the story it's hard to get into when you can't physically read it. I had the same problem with Little Women. I eventually got through it but it was difficult.

Well, now there's audible. For once, I didn't have a book I was chomping at the bit to listen to and I thought: Why not? I listened to other books I couldn't get into for whatever reason. So, one credit and 48 hours (spread out over the last three weeks) later. I made it through.

Let me say, this novel is rich in language, as in it is well written and has much to analyze. But every time the n-word was said I flinched. Every time a black person was infatlized, or threatened, I felt angry, I was pissed off by the caricatures and happy slave narritive. Everything I have read about the author points to her evolving her views on black people after her novel, which is good. However, it doesn't make the characterization of black people any easier to read. There are racist things in the book, writing about a bunch of well to do people in the antebellum south, I'm not sure how an author could avoid it without Clorox-ing history, which honestly, she did enough of with her mythical view of the way enslaved people were treated and felt. It was a narrative I often heard in school, in the PNW, in the 90's.

The story went that depending on where someone fit into the hierarchy of slaves, some were well treated and loved. Because of this, when emancipation came, some slaves were afraid to be, or didn't want to be free. This of course served the purpose of making an awful period in US history seem softer than it was. "Sure it was bad, but it wasn't that bad."

As I studied more, this viewpoint was replaced with a "Nope, this was just bad, as in monumentally criminally bad."

I think Mitchell, when she wrote the book, thought she was being accurate, but considering she learned her history from veterens of The Confederacy, it is not surprising that she was wrong.

Because of the one dimensional way that black people were written, it's hard for me to really dig into the symbolism of their characters. I'm only marganially good at this, as you will soon see.

I will say this: I liked the book for many of the same reasons my mom gave me for loving it. For it's descriptions and it's style, for it's symbolism. I like it for it's depiction of a culture in flux, of the impact of war for those on the home front, of the all too human condition that one never sees one's self as the bad guy. I do not like it for the characters. Rhett is an asshole, Ashley has a lot in common with a wet towel, only less interesting. Melanie is okay but can at times, give one a toothache. Scarlett is a brat. The glorifying of a time when people owned other people is disturbing, full stop.

It was those parts that made me profoundly uncomfortable and I had to remind myself over and over that this was a novel about civil war Georgia and the rich people that inhabited it before, during, and directly after. This was how those people would think, talk and behave. It was wrong then, it's wrong now.

Now, I'm going to look at the symbolism in this book because I found it facinating.

Gone with the wind is far more complex than I thought when I was a kid or after I watched the movie. The collective consciousness holds Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's romance to be the heart of the story... But it's not. Scarlett herself is the heart of the story. Honestly, Rhett driffs in and out when Scarlett needs either a dose of levity, a hard dose of truth, or a leg up on a hard fight. He doesn't rescue her, he helps her get the tools, and shows her the path to rescue herself.

Scarlett is an odd character. She has so many good points and bad points that she is nearly neutral. She's self-centered, but will fiercely care for and look after those she considers family, or as she calls them "my own". She will, on the surface ( for as the book says, it was all surface with her) resent every step taken, dollar spent, or moment given but she will keep doing it. She's opportunistic and ruthless with it, but she doesn't do it for the hell of it, she does it when backed into a corner. She's inpatient with her children, but her actions show that she loves them. She wants to do right by the social customs she was raised with and that the South cling to even after the war, but she's far too practical to pay them any more than lip service unless they fit her purposes.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara *is* rural Georgia. The colors that are always used to describe the land and Tara are red, green, black and white. In Scarlett we have described, red lips, green eyes ("without a hint of hazel"), white skin and black hair. She often wears these colors as well. Scarlett grows and changes along with Georgia and in fact, the reader is treated to the change of Georgia in a way that makes it more important than the changes of the characters. There are long stretches of discription of Georgia, especially Clayton County where Tara is. Long passages of the feelings of Georgia's people, before, during and after the war. Scarlett's life story from age 16 to age 28 are placed in between, and I have to think that the composition of the book was deliberate (I've never read any literary analysis GWTW, this is just me rambling).

Scarlett is told by her father, early in the book, that an Irishman's land is like his mother. Gerald O'Hara, an Irish immigrant, goes on to tell her that this kinship to the land is the same for anyone with a drop of Irish blood. In Scarlett, this goes further, for not only is the land her mother, she is,truly it's daughter.

Since she only swims in the shallow depths of her mind, she is unaware of her deeper waters. She does have them, she just pays no attention to what lives there. Weirdly, what lives there is what truly moves her. Early in the book the reader is told that although she didn't know it, she loved Tara, she was at peace there.

Nature is neutral,nature doesn't care about wars, politics or customs. At her core Scarlett doesn't care about these things either. Throughout the book the reader is told, that Scarlett doesn't care about anything that didn't directly affect her. This is true, and she is called out fairly often by other characters for being self-centered. However, her selfishness has a different feel than say, Bella Swan, Veruca Salt, or various other literary brats.

Scarlett feels less like one only,out to further her own interests and more like one who is trying to maintain her niche in her environment. For a living thing to thrive, their environment must support them. When an environment changes, the living thing either adapts or dies. Scarlett adapted.

Unable to convince Ashley Wilkes to break his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, being more obvious about her feelings for him than she thought, facing shame and questions to her reputation that would devastate her social standing and also possibly damage her family, she took swift action. She married Charles Hamilton, Melanie's brother. Why? It would shut up those who thought her in love with Ashley, thus saving her reputation. Plus, she figured it would hurt those she saw,as a threat to her. Like a river wearing a path around a tree, she avoided the obstical and continued on.

So if Scarlett is Georgia what about our other big characters?

Rhett is change, and time, like Scarlett he's nearly morally neutral.

Ashley is the past, he's the southern gentleman that the culture out grew.

Melanie a sheltering force. She reads as sweet and proper, but is always supporting Scarlett, even when her choices do not line up with the social system.

So, let's look at each of these characters in relation to our green-eyed force of nature.

I’m going to start with Ashley. Scarlett is fixated on him from the beginning. One can make many arguments as to why. He’s the only man not falling all over himself to get her attention, he very much represents the white knight to her, having “fallen in love” with him when he rode up to Tara after being away from Twelve Oaks, the reason as old as time, because she can’t have him, and her father says he’s not a good match for her. All of these are true, but to look at it from the symbolism angle:

Scarlett is Georgia,. The land and the plantation culture, she’s comfortable in her world at the start of the book. She doesn’t care at all about the war. It’s something that’s happening around her, something she is dreadfully bored by. Ashley represents that comfort, being with him means keeping things the same, staying the girl who only has to worry herself with parties, and being a plantation wife. Life would be slow and easy.

Time goes on, when everything goes wrong and Tara falls into poverty, Scarlett adapts. This girl who only a few years before married a man to save face, had never expected to work, now has to bust her tail trying to keep everyone fed. She wants Ashley, still, because she desperately wants to go back to that past, to where things were simple, to where hunger was not an issue.

The problem is that, Scarlett views Ashley through a haze of sentimentality, and Ashley is, himself, the embodiment of rose tinted nostalgia. He is not like Scarlett, longing for that time, but functioning in reality. He cannot exist outside of it; he’s not wishing for a time when all he had to do was talk books and philosophy with Melanie, he is of that time and he can do nothing when its gone.

Ashley Wilkes is an embroidered cloth of the antebellum south. He's the neat picture that faces outward, the pleasent part that the one weilding the needle wanted people to see. What is hidden is the web of threads criss-crossing each other, the nests of string, the knots and the things those messy parts tell of. The pricked fingers, the broken threads, the bent needles, stitches that were undone, tangles. The work and the pain that went into making that pretty picture look effortless. In short, he's what Scarlett and others at the start of the book thought of their culture and society. The work of the slaves was just simply there, what mattered was the result. Scarlett, like the society at large, had to let that go, face what it was. Not a shining example to return to, but an impractical relic of the past.

Rhett on the other hand sort of drifts in and out of the awareness of the main characters, He is always sort of there. He sees the writing on the wall, knows that many of the social conventions are on their way out and nudges Scarlett in the direction she wants to go in anyway.

After Charles dies, and Scarlett is in mourning, tradition dictating that she wear black, Rhett buys her a green hat and tells her he will take it away if she has it dyed.

When Tara is about to be lost, and Rhett refuses to give her money, Scarlett, without shame and with ruthless practicality, steals and marries her sister Suellen's suitor.

Why? Because she knew that Suellen would not have used any of the money she might have come into to save Tara.

Scarlett then takes over her new husband's business. She has a talent for it, and does well. Rhett encourages this unconventional behavior by lending her money to buy a sawmill which she runs.

This loan is interesting because it has a condition. He loans her the money as long as it isn't used to help Ashley.

This could be seen as an opportunity that would only really work if not given over to the conventions of the past. This plays out some what when it turns out that Ashley really sucks at doing... Well anything useful, really.

When Rhett and Scarlett eventually marry, he is proud to have a smart wife.

Rhett, as change, sees that Scarlett can and should break free from the social expectations that hem her in, when she does, she tends to do well. They are prosperous. What gets her in trouble is her constent looking back, pineing for Ashley, for the past that never was what it seemed, and the lost future that never would have been what she thought. Case in point, Scarlett and Rhett have Bonnie, who Rhett adores, Scarlett seems contented in her marriage. Then what happens? Ashley tells Scarlett that he is jealous of Rhett. And Scarlett promptly demands that she and Rhett sleep in separate rooms.

Later, we continue to go all soap opera when Scarlett and Ashley share an embrace and Ashley's sister, India, spreads a rumour of an affair. Melanie kicks her out of her house, but Rhett has heard. Enticements of the past impeding the progress to the future.

Rhett is near his breaking point with Scarlett and her focus on Ashley. He forces himself on her. Change trying to force itself on the culture through a vile and violent act. That is not a way to move forward, however.

Scarlett becomes pregnant, argues with a fed up Rhett, and falls down the stairs, losing the baby. Scarlett doesn't want anything to do with Rhett after this happens, understandably. A lot of change made in violence is resented and rejected. This leaves Rhett at a loss.

When Bonnie dies (it could be argued that she represents a new south, one that is not held back by convention, but is ultimately killed by the strong hold that those conventions had on the culture) Rhett is broken. And just when Scarlett is willing to embrace change, Rhett decides to leave, to find his own version of south that Ashley had been clinging to. This could be interpreted a couple of different ways. It could be seen as, that change is brought about by time and acceptence, and that the lack of the latter means that the former will not be effective and pass you by. Or, and this is the interpretation that I prefer, the fact that time, in regards to culture, repeats. Every generation has experienced this. You spend your youth laughing at the way things were done “back in the day” maybe even proclaiming that when you’re older, you won’t talk about “Kids these days…” but then one day you find that everything that was familiar to you has become outdated and you don’t understand, and therefore don’t like what is happening now and you find yourself wishing for the time when you were so sure and you understood everything. Ashley represents a past after a major upheavel, Rhett, is simply the march of time that every now and again will turn around and walk backwards to see where he’s been. Now, one could argue that Rhett is going to end up like Ashley, afterall, he’s looking for his past again. But I feel that Rhett is retreating into the past because of the trauma he experience in losing Bonnie and giving up on Scarlett. It’s a respite, rather than a permanate state of mind, like it is with Ashley. Ashley’s mind was always in the more idealized place, no matter the circumstsnce. It was the war that rattled his viewpoint of the world. Rhett is grounded in reality, he just wants to go home. Ashley is a rerun of an old tv show, Rhett is a nostaligia inspired reboot.

And Melanie. Ahh, Melly, silk wrapped iron, she is.

If this book has one "good guy" it's Melanie. If Ashley is pulling Scarlett (Georgia) back and Rhett is marching her forward, Melanie is a sheltering force, and Scarlett's counter point. Melanie has a streanth of her own and it is a perfect compainon to Scarlett's straightforward determination. While listening to this book, the phrase "speak softly and carry a big stick" kept coming to mind when it came to Melly. There are times that a soft spoken assurance, a politely worded insistence can be more powerful than anything else and Melanie shows that. The two prop each other up. When Scarlett kills the Yankee that invaded Tara, she helped bury the body. When Scarlett is demanding and short-tempered in regards to work being done around Tara during the lean times, Melly backs her up, but sweetens the tone. It takes a quiet fortitude to keep the peace in a way that still allows for getting things done and Melanie enables Scarlett to do just that. She knows the ins and outs of society rules and can weave her way through them with more ease than Scarlett. As such, she recognizes when Scarlett has to bend or break those rules to ensure the family's survival and knows just the right way to phrase it to give her sister in law enough wiggle room to keep her on society's good graces.

She Dances with Rhett for the cause even while in mourning? Melly insists she's doing it out of memory of Charlie. She does more than sit and home and be a widow? Melly points out that Scarlett is young and should be allowed some leeway.

Ashley's sister spreads a roumor about Scarlett and Ashley while the former is married to Rhett? Melly banishes her from the house.

When Melanie dies, Scarlett realizes how much she has meant to her and I would argue that it is her sisterhood and partnership with Melanie that is central to the story, rather than Scarlett's relationship with Rhett.

Each of these main characters are either rejected or leave just as Scarlett's deeper motives and thoughts float to the surface where she pays attention to them.

Melly dies when Scarlett is finally ready to stand on her own, because the social rules are being phased out, she doesn't need Melanie's gentle protection any more. With the phasing out of those rules, Ashley is outdated and unappealing and finally, Rhett and time move on, now that they have had their effect. And what is left standing is a changed Scarlett O'Hara in a changed world.

#book #books #gone with the wind #margaret mitchell #ramble #long post #thirty nine #Book blogging 2020

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