#not to be delusional on main but i think i hit the nail on the head there

[un-local]

Accidentally condensed Rogier's entire ordeal into a single sentence in my endnotes, oops. (Still Waters Run Deep's version, at least.)

[fromtheseventhhell]

I'm not sure how to get it into people's heads that Arya is a female character. She's not a boy, not nonbinary, trans, agender, or genderless. I don't intend this in a way to be negative or wanky, but her girlhood is imbedded within her character. The problem isn't that Arya stans are missing the point by overemphasizing her femininity and wanting her to be a barefoot tradwife baby making machine, but that we're stating it exists when the majority of fandom and the show itself have gone out of the way to minimize the relevancy of her gender. I'm fully convinced there are a lot of people who think Arya would be the exact same character had GRRM created her as a male character named Arry instead, perhaps they'd do a better job at acknowledging her importance.

What's most ironic to me is how these same fans will gush and coo over the sisters being more alike than we think, but only if it involves giving Arya's characteristics to Sansa. Well acktually, Sansa likes to ride horses just as much as Arya does! They're so alike uwu! But dare acknowledge that Arya has traits and aspects commonly associated to Sansa then not only does that get accusations of wanting Arya to become Sansa, but that it's solely about showing Sansa up and wanting her to grovel in Arya's shadow and superiority 🙄 Hypocrisy and projection showing itself.

Somewhat of an aside, but I recently saw a post on reddit complaining about the fact that all four of Daemon's children survived the Dance specifically focused on the fact that both Rhaena and Baela lived. According to the OP, one of them should've died and their post-war roles in the story should've been given to only one of them. Which at its core is really the main conflict between Sansa and Arya stans, no matter how much the Stansas want to cover their ears and play dumb. It's not about Arya stans projecting their sibling squabbles onto the two of them but simply the fact that it's not possible for two characters to fulfill the same role in the story, specifically when it involves two female characters. The existence of two Stark sisters is an inconvenience for the people who want the story to revolve around Sansa.

I have to believe there's some bubbles that they don't want to admit will burst if TWOW will ever be released and that's why they cling to the idea that Arya stans are the delusional ones. They have to believe that the parts of Sansa's seasons 5-8 storyline they like came from GRRM instead of D&D or else their Jonsa and QITN fantasies will fall apart. I have no idea how someone can watch the scene where Sansa tells Arya she couldn't survive what she had while Arya can only sputter out that she was training and believe 1) it makes sense for their book characters and 2) D&D didn't blatantly favor Sansa and Sophie over Arya and Maisie.

This ask came literally seconds after I drafted a post talking about this exact topic and it's so wild to me that we were both up thinking about Arya + her girlhood and wanting to discuss it 🥹

As for this ask, you really hit the nail on the head. Arya's gender is an essential aspect of her journey but fandom ignores that because they've decided that there's only one "right" way to exist as a female character. Arya's self-esteem issues stem from her being a non-conforming Lady in a misogynistic society, she has to disguise herself as a boy in part because of the threat of sexual violence, in Harrenhal she is assigned gender-specific tasks/labor, political matches are made without her knowledge/consent, she is threatened with sexual violence multiple times, and even her role within the FM is influenced by her gender. Her being non-conforming doesn't mean she's the complete antithesis of everything feminine. The obsession with propping up Sansa has ruined people's ability to perceive complex female characters, ironically including Sansa herself. They genuinely would've respected Arya more if she had died passively rather than fight for her life and you can't tell me that isn't misogyny.

That Reddit post is a great example of how people genuinely can't (or refuse to) comprehend the idea of two female characters occupying the same space. Cause you're right, that is the root of the issue. I think the only reason they bother with the fake "Stark sisters uwu" crap is because they've backed themselves into a faux-feminist corner and they don't want to look hypocritical for disliking Arya. So instead, they pretend to care all while rewriting her to serve as Sansa's prop. This is also why so many Queen!Sansa truthers are also anti-Dany + think that Sansa becoming Queen depends on Dany's downfall. They desperately cling to the show as canon, when D&D have openly admitted they changed the story because they favored Sansa/Sophie. They're fine with how show!Arya is written because to them, that's exactly how she should be; a subservient lapdog for Sansa. TWOW is definitely going to ruin that illusion, and one of the reasons I'm optimistic about it being released is getting to see fandom's reaction.

[kitty-cross]

[WARNING: ANIMAL DEATH. in the storytime too]

I'm more like the happy, cute illustration kind of girl - as you probably already noticed - who usually doesn't really do pieces from pure emotion, but this month's beginning was actually really hard for me. Like, rock bottom hard. Overall, life was too much, everything became overwhelming and around the 3rd of May I really thought for a second that I didn't want to continue it. I wanted to run away from my life, leaving everything behind. Understand as you wish, you're probably not wrong.

The only thing that kept me going was music, but The Poet and the Pendulum became my theme song, and if you know this story, you know what it means.

I had two panic attacks that day. Two breakdowns, but I had to go because of my work and then I scraped myself together enough to go to the nail salon. My nails are still short, even though it's been over a year and I haven't even touched a guitar. I was walking home when life hit me in the face with such a maternal slap as the world has never seen.

Call it the main character moment, call it destiny, intervention of the universe and beyond, or just a series of coincidences that turned out exactly like this. To be honest, I don't care, but for me it was the biggest slap I ever got, enlightening and sobering, the greatest manifestation of my strangely religious still without organized religion spirituality. And because of this ‘i’m one of the parts of Mother Nature’ belief of me, I am the person who, every time I walk down the street, even pays attention not to scare the birds.

I didn't for once. I was so down that I couldn't think about anything but my pain. The song on my phone switched from The Poet and the Pendulum to Amaranth, at the exact moment when a blackbird, scared of me and the people coming towards me, was hit by a car passing next to us. If you know me, you know very well that I will even take a thrown plant home to save it (...happened last week), not to pass an injured animal. The poor thing was very much alive, but it was terribly scared, so after we scraped it off the road, we tried to see if it had broken anything. Quite honestly, I'm not even sure if the car caused it or the little fool herself as she suffered on the ground, but when I caught her so that she wouldn't do more damage to herself, she was already behaving strangely. I started to go home with her to find a vet, but she did not survive.

That poor thing died in my hands. Literally.

And she took with her all of my pain, all my second thoughts about whether it made sense to continue.

Does it make sense? Or I'm really just delusional.

I won't lie, I publicly cried the rest of the way home. Then I cried all night, so much so that I couldn't open my eyes the next morning. My eyes were so swollen.

Like everything that happens to me, of course I told this too to my little sister, even if I wasn't able to put it correctly into words. Probably I still could not make justice in writing for what all happened to me because I’m not a writer or a poet, just somebody who draws. So I drew it. Out of my system, out of my heart. Is this the most unique creation in the world? Of course not. Do I feel that somehow I commemorated the little bird who saved my life from myself with her own death? I hope.

My little sister said that maybe I should check out of the meaning of blackbirds, although the meaning was completely clear to me without symbolism. But it's even weirder that it also resonates: “a dead blackbird may symbolize a release of negative emotions.” “One of the most common interpretations of the symbolism of dead birds is a fresh start, renewal, and transformation. It can also be taken as a warning for some danger that your soul is about to go through.”

Are there so many coincidences in real life? Why does this feel like someone wrote it and not like it happened to me?

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Blacksmith: Chpt. 3

[Gif Found on Pinterest]

Pairing: Dimitrescus x (Fem!)Reader/Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You are a human, a human who is in charge of the armory; polishing, blacksmithing you name it. You are strongly valued by the Dimitrescu family, specifically one that has strawberry-blonde hair. She’d always come visit you whenever you’d be working on a new piece of armor or weapon.

Warnings: Fight; ends slightly bloody, Fluff at the end

A/N: So, I’m obsessed with armor n such and hearing that there’s an armory when you fight Cassandra.... So, we are making a story about a Blacksmith falling for one of the Dimitrescu daughters!

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

As Daniela kisses you, she shoves you into the armory room.

“Daniela- what are you doing?!” You ask, standing up

Before you could reach her, she shuts the door and locks it from the outside. You bang on the door, calling for Daniela to explain what the hell she had just did.

“Dani!” You scream, “Please don’t do this! Let me out!”

You could hear gunshots ring throughout the castle as you sit on the floor with your knees up to your chin.

“I’ll make sure she won’t be touched mother,” Daniela states

Daniela’s words echoed through your mind. Why couldn’t you do the same for her? You’ve worked with fire and metal all your life, you’ve been taught the basics of sword fighting... So why couldn’t you be up there with Daniela and the rest of the family? Your mind suddenly goes to the kiss you and Daniela shared before she shoved you back into the armory. It felt real, genuine, soft. Despite your chapped lips Daniela still made the decision to kiss you. You didn’t think the youngest daughter; who was the most delusional of the three sisters, fell for a human like you.

Whomever wields this blade shall be worthy...

That thought echoes in your mind as well, changing your course of thoughts. You look to the closet where you had shoved the actual sword meant for you your legs spring upward and run towards it. When you opened the door, there it was, along with a whole outfit and some armor you had made in your free time. Your hand reaches for the armor and then to the sword.

“Please,” You beg to the blade, “ I beg of you.... Please lend me your power. Someone I love is in trouble and I need to protect them. And I don’t know if I can’t do it without your help. So please! Grant me your power!!”

The same brightness from the morning had shone in front of you. An unfamiliar face appears before you.

“You have unlocked the power of your ancestors my child,” He says, “May the power be used for good.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, when you opened them; a bright and brilliant flame reflects off of them.

Alcina and Heisenberg stagger backward as the enemy trespassers began advancing toward them. Bela, Cassandra and Daniela were the last line of defense as they could not physically be outside. However, when they noticed their mother and Heisenberg unconscious they began to worry as they watched the enemies come into the castle.

“You three are quite ravishing,” one of the male enemies says, “We’ll deal with her first then work our way over to you

He first motions to Daniela, then to Cassandra and finally over to Bela. 

“Like hell I would let you lay as much as a finger on my sisters,” Bela snarls, standing in front of the both of them

“Blondie’s got a mouth,” he says, mockingly, “A shame. We prefer ours to bend to our every will.”

With a wave of his hand, Bela’s eyes change from a golden color to a deep blue color. She turns to her sisters.

“Bela?” Cassandra calls out to her older sister

One of the other enemies looked at Daniela. He begins walking toward her. Cassandra began being backed into a corner by Bela who was mind controlled.

“The little red head is cute, I claim her,” He chuckles lowly

Reaching under her dress, she takes out the dagger you had made for her. In an effort to get him away she raises the blade and it grazes his cheek.

“Little red head has spirit,” He chuckles once more, “I like it..”

“Don’t you dare... Lay your filthy man-hands on my daughters!!” Alcina screams

However, they already have. However, before one of the enemies could even get a touch of them, an arrow enters his forehead. Everyone in the room had looked into the direction of the arrow but before anyone could process hat happened, another arrow flies into Daniela’s direction and it enters the guy’s hand.

“OW! We have another one?!” He asks

As quick as the first arrow had come, another had shot out, at the enemy who was mind-controlling Bela

“Bela!” Daniela and Cassandra catch their eldest sister in their embrace

The three sisters along with the two lords turn to where the arrows were coming from and noticed a crossbow sticking out from the top of the second floor. A third arrow shoots past the daughters and hits the enemy that was passing Lady Dimitrescu and Heisenberg. You stand up to reveal yourself donning your own personal armor and outfit. 

You sling the bow against your back and leap off of the second floor balcony and land on the main floor.

“It’s rude to interrupt a family meeting,” You say

“Y/n?” Daniela blushes

You only smile at her before the enemy trespassers walk past them, facing you. You reach down and began drawing the longsword you have created. Heisenberg regains his consciousness. 

“My apologies my liege,” You call out to Heisenberg, “But, I’m using this.”

The trespassers begin charging at you.

“Y/n!” Daniela yells

Daniela wanted to come to your rescue however she was immediately held back by Alcina.

“No, let me go! Mother please! Y/n!!” She screams

In a quick move, you raise the blade and make one single slash before letting the blade slowly fall at your side. The trespasser that had charged at you split apart in mere seconds, disintegrating as soon as he hit the floor.

“Rot in hell,” You growl at him

You lift your armored arm and the trespassers’ nails chipped severely. He staggers back in pain, clutching at his wrist. As he was distracted with his fingers, you swing your blade and decapitate him. 

“Who-Who is this... kid?...” He asks before ‘evaporating’ away

Before you advance on the last of the enemies, you swing your arm around Daniela’s waist and pull her close; kissing her in the process. Even though the was still holding the dagger you had forged, you weren’t phased by the blade itself.

“Are... Are you my knight in shining armor?” She asks, blushing a deep red

“I could be princess,” You tease

Before you could look over, an enemy gives you a cold, hard punch to your cheek. He attempts to sink his claws into your exposed flesh. He knocks the blade out of arms reach; you were almost defenseless. However, he lets out a scream before his own blood clogs his own windpipe. Daniela uses her dagger and throws him off to the side, off of you. She helps you up and immediately follows her sisters to Alcina and Heisenberg.

“My Lady, My Liege,” You call out to them, rushing to their side

“You-you saved us,” Heisenberg states

You immediately unbuckle the longsword from you and attempt to present it to him. However, just as you present it to him, he puts his hand over it and puts it back down.

“It suits you,” He smiles

“And my daughter has- taken.. A liking to you,” Alcina sighs, Bela helping her up

“Has-has she now?” You ask

“Daniela,” Alcina calls

Daniela immediately perks her head up to look at her mother.

“Do what you must with y/n,” She sighs, “I need a drink...”

Daniela lets out a squeal and immediately jumps into you, making you fall backwards. Your arm wraps around Daniela’s midsection and covers your face in kisses.

“How did you manage to kill him Daniela dear?” Alcina asks

“Y/n made this for me,” She says, presenting it to her mother, “I asked her personally.”

“You made this?” Alcina observes it closely

You nod, catching the dry in your throat.

“You are to make two more for my other daughters,” Alcina requests

You nod enthusiastically, “As you wish my lady.”

“Daniela darling,” She looks over to her daughter in your arm

“Watch her... Carefully,” Alcina requests her youngest daughter

A few days after the incident, you helped Heisenberg forge his own blade along with forging Cassandra and Bela’s garter blades. You go to the same maid that had helped you make two more garter’s. Just as you watch her off with the same lace and fabric you had given her, a fly lands onto the back of your hand, no form of drawing blood however, its legs wrapping around your finger.

“My lady,” You smile, holding the fly up close to your face

“I thought you weren’t talking to her,” Daniela appears from her swarm of flies

“My lady, are you somehow... Jealous?” You tease her, walking up to her, “She’s helping me make the garters for your sisters love. Hold up your arms real quick... Like this.”

As you raise both of your arms, seemingly stretching, she does the same. You motion for her to interlock her fingers. She follows the same. Feeling bold, one hand quickly pins her interlocked hands against the stone wall and the other snaking around her waist. Daniela lets out a slight high-pitched squeak.

“Besides,” You whisper, seductively, “I would... Much prefer... Your company...”

Daniela tugs on your shirt and pulls you in for a searing kiss. Your hand travels down against Daniela’s leg and she hooks it around your hip. From the humidity of the burning fireplace, Daniela begins stripping off her dress before the door swings open.

“Is our blades done yet?” Cassandra asks, bursting in with Bela in tow

“Almost, I’m waiting for the head maid to bring back the lace garters. She’s the one that put together Daniela’s garter,” You explain, “I’m also waiting for the gems to set.”

“Ooooh can we see them?” Bela asks

“As much as I would,” You sigh,” They’re setting and it would be best if they aren’t touched. Any slip up would result in me starting over.”

You finish Bela and Cassandra’s blades before the nights end. Before you return to your quarters for the morning, a fly lands and clutches your finger, gently pulling you into its direction. You smile as you humor the fly and begin having it drag you to where it wanted you to go. The fly somehow magically busts the door open and you’re flung into the bed. 

“You’ve stayed away for too long,” Daniela sighs as she buries her head into the crook of your neck

“I’ve only been gone for a few hours my love,” You kiss the shaved side of her head, “The head maid had to make two garters so it took her longer. She wanted them to look as perfect a she had made yours.”

You look on the nightstand and see the garter blade; The lace sewn over an elastic and fabric base with the blade cover sitting nicely in the lace slot. The Dimitrescu family crest is visible through the lace slot along with the dazzling blue-green gems you had managed to place in the dagger’s handle and cover. That’s how you exactly made the other two. Only, Bela had red gems and Cassandra had Yellow; matching their gemstone colors on their chokers.

“Hey, kiss me?” Daniela asks, yawning

You turn yourself over so that you’re hovering over her. Your hands gently cup her face as your head dips down to meet her lips.

“As if you need to ask my love,” You smile

Daniela lets out an adorable giggle as if she was in one of those Grimm princess fairy tales. Only difference is, she was able to get her happy ending.

[persephoneyss]

The Monster.

Pairing: park jimin x f!reader.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, anguish.

Summary: ❝You can be reborn like spring, but your nightmares will follow your footsteps at night.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, voyeurism, Jimin is a little delusional, implicit murder, death threats, a little violence, stalking, death of secondary characters, reader idolizes his mother, humiliation.

Number of words: 6000+

︙ Author's note: this is my first fic here, sorry if there are errors. My first language is not English and I don't speak it fluently either, so I used the translator. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it, I am open to criticism. Thanks!

(Puedes leer este y más fics aquí en español.)

To block.

Your mind felt strangely familiar, like it was processing the same situation all over again. And then the same thing happened again.

Blocking.

You never noticed those little details, invisible to the eyes of others. Or maybe you took too seriously the message and advice that your mother always told you when you were afraid of being left alone in your room because of the obvious and silly repetitive story of the monster under the bed, you were crying looking for your mother's room in the middle of the night. You were looking for refuge in her arms. However, the only loving words she had for you were: "Ignore him and he will go away, darling."

It seemed very clever to you, you began to close your eyes ignoring your worst fears and in a short time you could do what most children could not at your age, sleep alone in the dark.

Your mother was wise, maybe that's why you never understood why your father left her overnight. She never commented on the subject and little by little it was forgotten in her daily lives. Your father never existed, you never saw him again.

In his small town no one was exceptionally well known, unless he had done something good or bad enough to be called a hero or, in the same way, a villain. You were barely seven years old when it happened, a family with a lot of money had chosen your town as a decent land, enough to build their luxurious house where their children who came from golden cradles would grow up. According to the gossip, they were foreigners coming to invade their town and rule it, when in reality the Parks never got more involved in politics than necessary.

They were just rich, spending money.

Young women from all over the world and even from other distant towns came every day to try to conquer the privileged children of the great mansion built finely and strategically in the middle of the main square. The young women were beautiful, many times you stood at the door of your house admiring their distinguished perfect faces and you wondered if the children of the Park family were really worth it so that young and beautiful women who had previously been rejected would come back again. in search of new opportunities.

Your mother sometimes stood next to you with a smile and released another phrase that ended up marking your style of thinking, her voice sounded so ethereal: "Money compensates for external beauty, plus the dignity that you lose to those who possess it, it will never have a price."

Your lost look made her smile beautifully badly, then that same sweet voice that taught you things that other women would see as irrelevant, she too moments later she orders you to come home to eat. You thought about it so much, your mother was beautiful, she could remarry if she wanted to. However, she never did, or at least until that day.

You were poor, you were never afraid to accept it. You noticed it almost immediately, when you saw other children playing with toys that seemed impossible that you will ever possess, your mother was friends with the one who was best friends with your father, a carpenter who seemed to be very kind. He always gave you toys that came out with small defects and he couldn't sell, he was a good man until he seemed to misinterpret the situations and her relationship with your mother, unexpectedly asking her to marry him. Obviously you had to stop seeing him after the rejection. However, you were stubborn like the woman who gave you life, almost every day after finishing school you walk two streets to her local.

"How is your mother? Any suitors who weren't rejected the first time?" You laughed, helping him finish his last job. You shook your head, Peter was always very nice and honestly funny, you still didn't understand how your mother could reject them, but you never got into adult affairs. You were just an eight-year-old girl.

"She still misses dad." You whisper trying to drive a nail into loose wood, before being interrupted by Peter.

You look curiously at his downcast face of hers, as if she was keeping something deep within himself. But he quickly changes his expression as well as the subject. "Very good girl, no more help for today" he says, removing the dangerous tools out of your reach, you let out a exhausted sigh wanting to help him. Deep down you felt guilty. "How are you doing in school? I heard that the Parks will start a new campaign to help more in the education of the children, maybe you can see someone from the family up close."

You move your head in distracting affirmation playing with a piece of wood, Peter watches you for a moment and then sighs. You really were special, and if I could tell what happened to your father, you would let go of that glow for sure.

The following days passed in the same way, there was only a radical change in your routine. Now they forced you to stay longer in school so that you could take art classes with the children of the Park family. You had heard many mothers talking to yours about how handsome they were, and since their daughters would undoubtedly have a chance with Jimin, who was the eldest son and of course the first-born heir, you thought for a long time about a tall man with more years than all those young women who hallucinated with the perfect millionaire husband. However, it was all an illusion. Jimin was not a man, he was a seventeen year old teenager.

Perhaps the young woman who did win him over would be very lucky to marry someone her own age and not a bitter old man who only had money. Jimin was everything, young, handsome and a millionaire, the best bet of any woman.

His first class was alongside his current teacher, introducing each child in the Park family. They were all very handsome, but Jimin seemed to shine brighter than the stars in the dark night. You wondered if his younger siblings would become jealous of him, it would be an interesting concept considering you had no siblings.

Your hands moved the clay very patiently, your classmates seemed to enjoy these classes and they were undoubtedly fun.

"What a beautiful flower ..." You smiled nodding, no one would ever think that someone like Jimin would be delighted with the common drawing of any girl. Her gaze traveled around your pure and innocent face, as if she couldn't get enough of you. She sat next to you, admiring how your hands continued to play with the dough creating new shapes and I certainly enjoyed every second.

She had never met someone who would attract so much attention from her, you were ethereal. Jimin was immediately drawn to you, your gaze clear as daylight and your soft features, maybe you were just a girl but you seemed to tempt his attention incredibly badly from him. He felt the strange sensation of making sure you were okay, safe, probably in his arms.

He followed you closely, always arriving at the same time. Her mother used to say that Jimin was very irresponsible, she never complied with the basic principles of being a Park: Discipline, order and punctuality. Jimin was different, his siblings may have fulfilled those three bases just to give what they wanted to their parents and receive more affection from him, but not him.

Jimin was obsessive. Impulsive, and he had self-control issues.

The biggest dangerous trait that his parents noticed since he was little, is that he suffered attacks of anger against anyone without caring about the consequences of this. More than three of his babysitters claimed that little Jimin had hit them, slapping and shoving them. But all of this was radically ignored by the Parks, who turned a deaf ear claiming that their son was simply too controlling, and in a way, he was. Jimin liked to have everything under control, at his disposal.

Jimin found himself fascinated with your little eyes looking at him without fear and, even though it was painful for him, without love. For you, he was nothing more than a stranger. He tried to change that, sitting next to you every day and talking to you a few times when he could get more than two sentences out of you. He liked art, I could tell by the way you focus too much on a small painting of an insignificant tree.

If you liked trees, Jimin could buy a forest for yourself.

You loved roses, he could plant thousands in every corner of town.

Or maybe, your obsession with the smell of vanilla. Jimin went wildly for the most expensive vanilla scented lotion, hoping for some praise from you and he really didn't fail.

No, when the next day he sat next to you and your gaze turned to him with a kind smile. "It smells great, Mr. Jimin." Your soft tone and your minimal compliment was enough to make his entire body shake, his hands began to sweat and his voice seemed to falter. It was amazing how you managed to make him so nervous, while he was still a child.

"Y-do you like it?" She asked even knowing the answer, your head bobbing in a quick nod and an even bigger smile adorns your features.

You put your painting aside for a moment to continue responding, Jimin feels elated to see that his plan worked. Now you're just looking at him, as it always should be. "It smells like vanilla, I like vanilla." You say honestly.

"I see, I also like vanilla." You seem shocked, Jimin increases the tension of him fearing that he said something wrong. He really wasn't lying, maybe vanilla wasn't something he used constantly but he didn't dislike it either, he was just disguising and embellishing a crude truth.

And before long, Jimin feels his life take an unexpected turn, people had started to notice his closeness to you. They called him an angel when in reality he was a devil, rumors and silly praise that he would be a good father were not lacking and the young women who came to his door every day to look for a date with him increased in an exorbitant way. You were oblivious to all that, clearly. However, you could not ignore all the looks that fell on you when you accompanied your mother to the market, as from one day to the next you became someone important just because you were the focus of attention of him Mr. Jimin, as you used to call him with respect. Peter also suffered the consequences of this, you had not stopped going to his store and the young women looking to conquer Jimin or at least get his attention began to follow you wanting to win your affection so that you will speak well of them with their desired man, no you were interested in what they could offer you but the biggest problem was that they did not like to receive a clear 'No.' as a reply.

They were insistent and often annoying. They followed you closely, even when you went to school or to visit Peter who now only went twice a week, you did not want to go out and have to face the pity that it gave you to see many beautiful young women begging for a vague love and that I was looking for more money arrangements than anything else. Also, not all of them had good intentions with you. Your mother made sure of your safety in the face of any incident, and with that came her last word, her strict order not to approach Park Jimin again until he found a wife.

The rest would be history.

He would surely forget you and start forming his own family, having his own children and likewise, looking for his own problems. Instead, that never happened. Jimin had discovered your plan, he was angry, he couldn't believe that you were ignoring his attempts to approach you in such a way. Your attitude was so pure but you were hurting her so much.

He was delusional, she knew he was. But he didn't want to stop. So, he did the only thing that would make you stay by his side.

You felt strangely calm, you had been to and from school with no one following closely in your footsteps. Until you noticed that the whole town seemed to look at you with superiority, with caution. Peter never stopped taking care of his store, however, that day it was closed. You gave little thought to that coincidence, walking home with slow steps. Deep down you were scared.

Maybe you thought you could feel it, in front of your house a crowd of people lay watching the most unexpected marriage request. Your mother was uncomfortable, you could tell by how her face was distorted, and how her hands seemed to shake for reasons not yet known to you. You watched in horror as Jimin knelt before her with a smile pulling a ring out of a small red box.

For a moment, you thought about your father. You felt strange, you always wanted to have a warm fatherly hug but it made you uncomfortable to imagine Jimin occupying that place, you did not want him, you did not love him as a daughter to his firstborn or as another similar relationship. He was a stranger.

Your body fell into the seat reserved especially for you, your eyes observed any place in the church trying to disperse your mind. Your little shoes brushed against each other, your hands rested on the wooden seat waiting for the wedding to end as soon as possible. You never wanted to oppose your thoughts to the idea of ​​your mother falling in love or getting married again, you really didn't care much as long as that person was good for her.

However, he was Park Jimin. You felt disgusted when her mother looked at you from afar with despicable eyes, just as anger consumed you when Mrs. Park tried to embarrass your mother in front of everyone. You didn't ask for this, nobody asked for it.

Maybe you spent too much time thinking around you to notice that Jimin was unhappy. A little upset. He had done what he had to do, chained you to him in some twisted way, marrying your mother and he felt happy, at first. I could see you walking through the church, you were wearing a little white dress to match your mother's and for a sinister moment I imagine that you were the one walking towards him to be named his wife. But he quickly came back to reality, you weren't his fiancée. You wouldn't be his wife.

Deep inside him, he knew how gross it was to feel like this.

Your mother's eyes reflected how unhappy she was, her gaze was uncertain. Jimin smiled seeing how you kicked the decorations that fell to the ground, you were completely oblivious to everything and more to the look of her that she followed you closely. Many called him a good father. Seeing nothing but his protective attitudes, but under the circumstances there were only hints of what might come next. You weren't allowed to leave Jimin's house, his father had left the mansion where his whole family used to live.

Mrs. Park could find no better excuse to leave than the sudden tantrum of her first-born son for marrying an older woman, a widow, and a daughter. This is a mockery and disgrace to her family's last name. Jimin just let her go, he wasn't even there the day her mother boarded the first train to her grandmother's house.

Your mother flatly refused to leave her house at first, she did not want to leave the little cabin that your father had built with his own effort so that both of them would live there and in the future raise their children, you always lived there and you did not want to leave either. But you never had a solid vote, your mother ended up agreeing from one day to the next, you did not know how Jimin managed to change his word so suddenly. Maybe there was never one reason, but you became all of them.

You were painfully present at all times. You observed how little by little, the wispy and wise glow that your mother possessed was getting lost between her empty eyes and her bent body, her head was never raised as she taught you it should be. She was a stranger, you felt scared in her presence. You remembered very well how her face seemed to light up when she saw you coming home from school and how she taught you something new every day.

"Mommy..." You spoke, your hands were still busy with the picture that you hadn't finished painting. But curiosity began to attack your mind.

Your mother came out of the kitchen with a little gray apron, she smiled when she saw you sitting on the floor. "Yes, honey?"

"Why do people get married?" Your gaze lifted from the sheet of paper, wincing at her glowing eyes.

"It depends, it's not necessarily for love. Maybe for money, comfort or ..." her voice trailed off, she still staring at you she leaned down to take your face in her hands. "Because they found someone, as cute as you!"

"Mommy ... I want to marry you!" Your mother began to laugh, your gaze traveled all over her face, joyful of hers and for a moment, you swore that you would hate anyone who dared to take away the great happiness of a genuine smile.

You finished your drawing, just in time because the front door echoed through the entire cabin. Your father appeared with a small drawer in his hands, your mother seemed to be illuminated with an angel when she saw him enter with a kind smile. Both were such for which. They were, more than lovers and husbands, lifelong best friends. Your life seemed to have something that many do not get even after death.

An outer and inner peace. It was perfect.

Almost so perfect, it wasn't true. White roses were always your favorites. However, you began to detest its soft light petals when it seemed that all the townspeople bought the same bouquet of white roses for the funeral of your, now, deceased mother. You took a seat next to her grave, ignoring everyone's greetings and goodbyes, who apparently forgot how her criticism of her increased even as the days, months and years of her wedding with Jimin passed.

You couldn't blame anyone. Or you just didn't want to.

Because the rope around his neck was not placed by them. And the multiple scars on his wrists weren't his marks. A small part of you felt helpless, angry and respectively, disgusted with yourself. Could you help her? Yes. No. Maybe if you had ... And he had stayed in the past.

The little white rose in your hand fell to the floor, everyone had left the room to go to the large buffet served at the reception. You froze, then with the same rage you began to step on the already dead flower at your feet, the petals of it were no more than a pure color, now they were disgusting and dirty. Jimin appeared minutes later, your gaze fell on his hand that was holding a black and a red rose.

"We should go, honey." He whispered as if afraid to scare you even though you were already looking directly at him. Your immobile figure instinctively ran into his arms, which greeted you with an incredibly loving warmth. The roses were placed on top of the coffin, a smile spread across your face when you saw the color red stand out against so much white, and for a second you came to compare the beauty of an outstanding color with your mother.

She stood out in a world where everyone wanted to paint themselves pure white.

Jimin was even more welcoming to you now. He pretended to sleep waiting for 11:30 to arrive so that he could hear your footsteps on the way to his room, you had developed a great amount of fear of loneliness. Jimin knew you always did that, but before it was with her instead of him. You would walk for several seconds looking in the dark for his room, which was next to hers, then I would always hear her voice singing for you, making you rest in his arms. For a long time, I want to be her. But now he was gone and I knew it was a matter of time before your steps stopped at his door.

She loved the closeness of your body to hers, how your hands clung to her nightshirt when you were cold or a horrible nightmare was projected into your dreams. Jimin horribly wishes he could see beyond your dreams, although that would be disrespectful to your privacy, he wouldn't mind breaking your trust too much if he could be sure that you would never walk away from him, even in your dreams.

He managed to chain your life to his, your scared look was the most beautiful thing I have seen before. I want to touch your little face and kiss your soft lips that tempted him every time the word "dad" came out of it.

Time was his greatest enemy.

Your presentation was no better, your hands were trembling again while your feet moved from here to there restlessly. Jimin just watched silently, but the distance between you and him was gigantic, he just wished that the damn bitch that was presented before him would shut up and leave his house. It was remarkable how you seemed angry, maybe it's jealousy, she has feelings for me. He thought sickly, a smile spreading across his face discreetly at his incoherent thoughts of him. The young woman sitting on the sofa in front of him smiled thinking that her talk had caused some pleasure in the young and widowed man.

Jimin admired her face, she was very cute, also she seemed to have good manipulation technique in people. She noticed it quickly when she walked through the door, her smile that seemed uncontrollable and genuine lit up his childlike face. He took a few seconds, he knew he shouldn't do it but he couldn't help comparing the woman to you. You were shorter, you were obviously younger and your gaze was more pure. Jimin was proud of your firm stance, knowing that in the two years since your mother's death you had developed a closer connection with him, and likewise, you were a beautifully perfect copy of him. Your hard gaze and your legs crossed with each other showed your firmness, and your silent opinion.

You wanted the fucking bitch sitting across from your stepdad outside your house.

You laughed at the very idea of ​​one day finding a really good replacement for your mother. You couldn't replace a rose with bad herbs. For you, as selfish as he was, Jimin was your father, and he was your mother's love from the day he married her. No one would replace his position.

It was all three of them, and a part of your mind conned that Jimin still wasn't over the love he had for her. Or he would have remarried long ago, when the young women stood in front of the door of his house asking for a date with him. In those moments you didn't care, Jimin was a stranger, but now he was your father and you were his only daughter. No one had the right to ruin their harmonious relationship, they were both alone and someday serious like him.

You will be successful, you will make a lot of money and you will be able to marry someone you love.

But for now, your gaze fell on the little worn and dirty shoes of the woman in front of you. A smile crossed your face, your gaze lifted surprising the woman. While Jimin waited with his arms crossed for your following action.

"Woman." Your voice seemed to cut her tranquility, her face lost total color of life and a small grimace of fear passed over her fragile face. "I can't allow shoes like that to step on the carpet in my house ..."

The woman looked at Jimin who seemed indifferent, distracted by the painting on the wall.

"I'm sorry miss" she whispered trying to remove her shoes, his hands seemed more clumsy than usual. Her face burned when your hand moved closer to hers to prevent any further movement.

"Go away." A tiny part of you felt sorry for his embarrassed face and flushed cheeks. But it quickly came to your mind that she thought she was good enough to believe she was your mother. When she couldn't even challenge a stupid girl who acted like a spoiled brat. "Get out of my house, or I'll have to ask you not to just take off your shoes."

"I-sorry, I'll go now-..." A sob interrupted her dialogue, her hands searched for the notebook she was carrying but she gave up making a quick bow to Jimin and running outside.

The garden was your favorite part of the big house, the walls constantly made you believe that you were going to be eaten by them. Every day you came out of your lair admiring the many roses of many different colors growing beautiful and healthy. Your school stage was about to begin and you did not want to neglect your garden, which was also a tribute to your late mother.

So you hired a gardener. You were seventeen years old and soon to be eighteen. To say that you managed to experience the best of all those years was ridiculous, and deep down inside you, you thought that all of that was possible because of all the things Jimin did for you.

You had a debt, which you planned to pay in the future. You thought about leaving and letting him have a quiet life from now on without having to run to solve your problems, even if you never asked him to.

Jimin had eyes watching your every move, he clearly remembers how he put security cameras throughout the house, observing how you slept, what you did in the comfort of your room and privacy. Even when you walked into the shower and your hands ran over your body covered in water. Sometimes he felt guilty, for how he seemed to enjoy those moments that seemed so short.

However, it was repeated that as long as you were safe.

Breaking your trust wasn't that important.

Your eighteenth birthday was moderately quiet, Jimin was not used to throwing parties, and honestly, you never asked for one. So you just stood at the door of your house receiving expensive and cheap gifts from people who when they gave you the gift had a forced smile that told you many things. Most were familiar faces, of women who had previously sought a date with your father, obviously being rejected.

The little birthday cake looked so monotonous, the candles were the only thing you could stand out for. You were never aware that you had started to be privileged and extremely ambitious since Jimin proposed to your mother and forced her to marry him, pointing a gun at her pathetic silly little head. You had it all, and in your previous years maybe you managed to get excited about the new toys and accessories that were brought to you from other countries, you had everything that others did not, and a strange epiphany collapsed over you.

It was you, it was déjà vu. You were them, and those who were before, were now you.

You had all of them, and they didn't. Now, by your side, they were all poor. Jimin showered you with gifts, causing you to gradually lose interest in money. You remember your thoughts when it all started and likewise, you still remember the woman with the dirty shoes. You will be successful, you will make a lot of money. It was what you thought in the future for yourself, but now that was it, in a nutshell. Completely boring. You stayed for a moment thinking about them under the watchful eye of your stepfather who tried not to smile when you saw you, you were an adult now and he could finally take you as his own. They would be husband and wife, as it should have been from the beginning of its history.

And you will be able to marry someone you love. You still had only one option left, you blew out the candles with a single sigh causing Jimin to clap his hands and approach you to hug you fondly. The maids behind you only blushed when his boss started showing all of his affection. They weren't used to seeing him so often, Jimin had a firm and tough stance with everyone but he seemed to become as soft as clay in your presence. You came to mold Jimin in your favor, making him a cold person in front of his own demons and then, you left yours.

"I want marriage proposals, father." A gasp came from the mouths of the maids who just immediately fell silent. Lowering their head as they were taught. "I am ready to get married."

Jimin hummed still keeping his arms around you, your body was trapped in theirs. Your skin burned when his fingers squeezed your skin, leaving permanent marks. There was no reaction from you, you were used to this kind of unexpected treatment and it just didn't hurt.

"Get married?" His arms pulled away from you in disgust, there was no other reaction either. Jimin taught you not to object unless you knew you should. Stay calm and you will win. "And can you tell who would want to marry you? Useless little girl."

"Useless?" Your low voice seemed to make him happy for a moment.

Quickly his hands took the utensils to cut the cake, with a soft and sweet voice he continued: "Honey, men do not look for a girl with a lot of money like you. They look for someone to tame, and you, you could easily crush everyone with a wave of your hands."

A piece of the cake perfectly positioned on the plate was placed in front of you, a sob escaping your lips. You were really pathetic, eh? You clearly wanted to live something that has been claimed many times. You weren't going to get married, not without having it all like Jimin said. Then, you would lose everything and go back up to crush the others with greater pleasure.

"Aren't you going to eat? It's your cum-..."

"I will go to a neighboring town, I will finish my studies there."

Jimin looked down at his plate, ignoring how you got up from the table and put your cake aside. Then, your sweet voice finished destroying his self control that he thought he mastered long ago.

"I never liked that cake taste."

And it was the end.

You went back to the start again. You were planning to leave tonight, your bags were ready. Everything you needed was never in that house, it was never him. They were those that never existed in your present continued.

Your shoes did not seem to contrast with the dirt on the town's floor, you were also aware that those would end up in the trash. You didn't care, they were just shoes Jimin bought for your birthday, insignificant.

People were observant, and often foul-mouthed. It was no different than they spoke far from you or close to you, yet their mouths moved in a fussy way exaggerating reactions and creating new lies.

"_____...?" Your posture was decreasing, you no longer had to pretend. A smile covered your face, framing many emotions in one. "Come in please, it's your house."

Peter stepped aside, leaving room for you to enter. Your hands trembled but this time from cold, you still did not get over the harsh winter that suddenly passed. You took your shoes off quickly, briefly forgetting that this was no longer your home. You had sold the little cabin at a minimal price, and you were even happier when it was Peter who chose that place as his future home to live with his wife and his future child. Now he had two more. The little children ran in the tiny room playing with each other, a feeling of nostalgia invaded you when you saw them. You used to do the same before, together with your parents.

Those moments.

"Glad to see you around here, daughter." Peter hadn't changed, he was still the same kind and understanding person as ever. The opposite of you, of course. "Do you want to have tea? I heard on the streets that you would go to study far from here."

"Coffee, please." You responded still reluctant to talk about your departure.

Peter just laughed at your exaggerated denial, nodding and leading into the kitchen. You took a seat at the small table looking around. "You didn't change the decoration."

"Uh? ...." He seemed surprised by your observation, but he quickly smiled. "No. Actually, I think I liked it from the beginning how your ... er ... your mother decorated it. Besides, my wife loved it too. For her, it's beautiful as spring."

"Spring?" You ask, avoiding looking at it. You look down looking for some reason not to feel sad, in a way, you had compared your mother to spring as well. However, Jimin said that you were his. You never liked being called a light, because you always tried to be in your mother's shadow. And you liked it. "She believed that she is very wise, my mother was like spring."

"Thanks." A voice whispered from behind, your gaze fell on her and her face very much like your mother's. But they were obviously completely different. "I never doubted that you were just as wise. Spring represents the new beginning, a new beginning. Did you manage to find yours?"

Peter tried to intervene, clearly noticing the way his wife was trying to make you talk about your life after your mother died.

"I did. That's why I'm leaving here tonight."

"I'm glad we all need to be born again at some point."

You affirm with a small movement of the head, concentrating your gaze on the coffee cup in your hands. The smoke fell directly on your face hiding your grimace of disgust. Nobody deserves to talk about her like that yet.

"Ok, honey." Peter began by sitting across from you, with a cup of green tea and a serene expression. "Are you planning to go alone or with someone? I heard that travel today is very dangerous."

"Actually, I am accompanied by an acquaintance. His name is Jungkook, he also planned to leave and started working for me as a gardener to get the necessary money. We became good friends." You spoke remembering the adorable smile of the young man, he used to accompany you everywhere you went as if his job was to protect you. At first it was cute, but then it was annoying. Even after all that, you preferred to travel with him rather than alone.

"Oh that's very nice. I'm glad you managed to meet your goals. Good luck."

Your goals?

"Thanks, Peter."

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he seemed to remember something very important. She gave you a smile before getting up to leave the kitchen.

"I have something for you, you are old enough to know this."

It was an envelope. Common and ordinary, but its envelope was beginning to deteriorate, showing that it was an old and very reserved letter.

You questioned your decision but took it, not wanting to read it in front of anyone even more when you read who wrote the letter.

You sat on the small wall, the trees and the cool breeze boosted your adrenaline. Small pieces of paper fell to the ground. So, you weren't thinking correctly at those times.

"I only married a man that I loved in all my life, I was happy. I had a daughter. I lived years of solitude and then, I was chained to an empty love."

"I know what you're reading this now. You're weak, darling. Maybe that's what made us mother and daughter. Because from the beginning I never had the courage to tell you that Jimin put a ring on my finger and a gun to my head. Or maybe, I was weak when I didn't get in the way of his errand, I should have told him that I hated him and that he could put a bullet in my head before giving it to my daughter. And maybe, I should have told everyone who passed by me that He was the same one who murdered my husband, he never left. I made you believe that. You never asked. "

"I saw you so happy today, you were running between the garden and the wedding. I could see his gaze following your hurried steps, I was almost completely sure that he was trying to get closer to you at all times. I told the woman next to me, But she shut me up saying that I can't be jealous of a father and daughter relationship. You weren't her daughter. She also ordered me to let them create a closer relationship, because I already had Park Jimin's heart in my hands. Liars."

"I always loved your curious voice. You used to ask me everything, and why everything was like that. But lately, I don't know what to answer. Why am I crying? Why is there a dark stain under my eyes? Why is there blood in the bathroom? Why did I never ask for help? I see you worry and you don't let me give you affection, because you prefer to give it to me. I also see how I start to bother him, I am a hindrance. Now I understand, I knew it but I never wanted to accept that it happened. He was everywhere, and likewise, I was never part of the plan."

"There were only two things I didn't tell you. I love you and my last piece of advice. Honey, lock it up and fly to the start, whenever you feel lost. A fresh start and never forget spring."

You stifled a sob. Covering up your pain. You had not noticed that the night had covered the sky, a dark blue blanket arrived. It took you a long time to assimilate that all the fragments were torn papers, and it was not a letter. It was an envelope filled with, apparently, incomplete sheets torn from a notebook. There was a fragment that was not part of the leaves, but rather was written later.

"Lost parts of a sad widow's diary.

Peter."

They were from your mother's diary. So where was the rest? What actually happened? A message came to your phone, you read it quickly still drying your tears.

JUNGKOOK:

Our trip is in an hour, I hope you said goodbye to everyone.

Received at 7:05 p.m.

I still do not:(

Received at 7:06 p.m.

Along with both messages was an attached picture, a photo of him and his grandmother. Jungkook talked a lot about her, and hers, her brothers. You smile, still wiping the tears from your face.

Your feet moved, the leaves in your hands seemed too heavy. And yet it was something you needed to do.

"Are you at home." His monotonous voice invaded you, he was busy reading a book that rested in his hand. The maid came over leaving a cup of coffee beside him, greeting your presence politely. "I have some things to discuss with you, darling."

"Me too, Jimin." It was the first time you had said his name without due respect, he seemed surprised for a moment. But his expression changed to one of happiness, as if he had been waiting for it. "I couldn't say goodbye, I'm leaving today. I think you already know that, though."

"Actually, no. But it's nice to hear it from you."

"I ..." Your voice dried in your throat, a giant doubt fell over you. You didn't want to leave without telling him how much you hated everything about him. His attention, his affection, his smile, his gaze, his voice. Everything about him was disgustingly charming. "I think I'll go get my bags."

Jimin nodded, ignoring your presence. Still distracted with reading him.

"Before you go, can you give me that back, darling?" Your gaze followed where he pointed his finger. Your hand. The leaves were still there.

"It's something of mine-..."

"Oh I don't think so. It really is very easy to threaten someone, just suffice to say that you can put a bullet in their head to make them your obedient little puppets."

"I do not understand your..."

"Me? It was obviously me. I'm surprised you thought your mother would be smart enough to leave a confession letter to her ex-lovers, days before her death. You really had a lot of credit for her." His chatter was accompanied by a laugh. You were paralyzed, shaking in your useless state of shock. "But I will not say that I did not plan, I hoped that you would never have the courage to try to leave my side. And even if that were the case, I knew that you would say goodbye to the only person who reminded you of her. Peter, she has a family. lovely."

Nor did he expect you to have the courage to cheat on him with another man. Oh, the gardener. Poor Jungkook, his body now rested leaving behind your favorite flowers. Jimin bit his lip, another mocking smile peeking out with intensity remembering the cutthroat figure of the innocent but guilty young man.

You were his...

"How can you be so cruel?" The doubt in you seemed to want to keep growing, passing second by second through your head. You weren't sure you could understand that everything that happened in front of you was actually planned by the same person who swore never to leave you alone. The same man who disguised himself as a sheep so he could eat you like a wolf. "Did you kill my mother ?!" Jimin seemed surprised by your desperate tone, he did not expect to be able to unbalance your state so easily.

It was lovely. Certainly.

"No sweetie." He murmured closing the book in his hands, setting it on the table next to the steaming cup of American coffee. "But it would have been exquisite to be the reason for his pain. Unfortunately, it was your father who won that title."

"Where did you get this from? I know she wrote it, and I also know that she would never give it to you knowing what a monster you are." Tears were running down your cheeks like water, you knew you were a mess but Jimin seemed to look at you like you were a perfect work of art.

"I found it." He spoke casually, getting up from his seat. Walking slowly towards your trembling figure. "It was a coincidence, I like casual things. It was a coincidence that you studied at that school, that your mother was a widow, that your father died. That he will make me fall in love with you."

What is your goal now?

"I love you darling."

Escape from the monster.

[redhairedfeistynerd]

Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 2

A/N:  Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+  Angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words:3500+

Part 1 here

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be re-posted anywhere.

Snow.  

Of all the days to make the largest and final delivery, the sky had to open and drop copious amount of fluffy, white snow throughout the morning, which dramatically turned to rain in the afternoon. The streets were bound to be a disaster and you didn’t have time for this mess.

Trying to slide another box into your SUV was like playing a game of Tetris and one that you were about to lose. With a push, the last piece fit in, but as one went in, another slid out. From the top of the pile, a large box (in painful slow motion) popped out of its comfy home and dropped to the ground, a large splash soaking your left side with cold, slushy water. All the carefully wrapped toys, were now submerged in the grey slush water at your feet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you cried out to the sky and pulled your toque over your eyes. Lifting the wool from your eyes, you stared at the colossal mess at your feet, and tried to swallow down the lump that was quickly forming in your throat. Blinking fast, attempting to avoid that tears that were threatening to pour out of your eyes. What a mess.

“Y/N?” A male voice came from behind you, the sound of slushy footsteps quickly approaching.

Oh no. OH NO.

Not that voice.  

Squatting down once more to try and quickly pick up some of the packages, you stop when two large feet stand in the water beside you, splashing dirty droplets of water in your face.

“Thanks, asshole,” you muttered.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Chris chuckled from above you and offered his hand.

“Get the fuck away from me, Evans,” you shouted, slipping while trying to stand up. You made another attempt to stand and turned to face him, a look of disgust clearly showing across your face.  

“Damn. What exactly did I do to you again?”

“The fact that you are asking, pisses me off even more,” you shot back as you turned around and bent down, wrapping your arms around several sopping packages.

“Gifts for your boyfriend?” He asked, his tone emitting a slice of jealousy.

“These gifts are for the kids, you oaf,” you snapped back.

Chris didn’t have a response but leaned down to pick up a box floating near his feet “Here, don’t forget this one.  I’m...I’m sorry for the snarky comment,” he said biting at his lip, embarrassment running through him. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that,” he added holding out the small, mushy box to you. “Are these going to the women’s centre? I can help you get them there if you like.”

You stared back at him, trying not to bit your lip so hard in frustration. “I don’t need your help. Please, stay away from me, Chris,” you said grabbing the wet box from his hand. “They’re going to the Neighbourhood House.”

“At least let me get the car door for you, the trunk looks a bit full,” Chris said as he opened the back door.  

Tossing the wet gifts into the back, not caring about the upholstery, you muttered a “thanks” Chris’s way before slamming the door and walking around to the driver's side, stopping to close the trunk on your way. Hopping in, you made the mistake of looking in your rearview mirror as you started up the car, Chris’s smirking face looking right at you. “Stupid good-looking asshole,” you snarled as you drove away from him, trying to ignore the small wave he gave as you drove down the street. Heading back to your office, hoping that your coworker was still there with the other pile of gifts that were ready to go out today to a few local schools.  

The office was quiet, no papers shuffling, no phones ringing. You knew you had missed your chance to switch out some of the gifts before heading over to the Neighbourhood House that evening. This day was not going the way you had planned and if you couldn’t deliver the gifts promised, this day was going to go from bad to worse, very quicky.  

You wanted to blame all of this on Chris, mainly because even looking at his handsome face infuriated you more than anything. But your reasonable side knew that the problems with the gifts had nothing to do with him and you were still holding a grudge from years before. You needed to get this out of your system, once and for all.  

You poked around the storage room in your office for any extra toys; a few boxes remained and you remembered that several gift cards remained – a few of the older kids may want to buy something instead.  

Okay, this will work. This isn’t so bad, right?

Packing up the new gifts in bags and leaving the soggy toys by your desk, you headed back to your car and off to the Neighbourhood House.  

*

“What? Where did these come from?” You gaped at the bags stuffed with tissue paper of every colour, full of gifts. Boxes upon boxes filled the front of the entryway, piled neatly underneath a large tree that almost touched the high ceiling.

“A gentleman came by, maybe 20 minutes ago with all of these, he said that they were part of the delivery you were bringing by this evening.”

“But...I...” Completely confused but relieved that you didn’t need to explain the mess that had happened earlier in the day, you smiled at the shelter employee and made your way back out to your car to bring in the remainder of the gifts.

“Thank you for your kind donation this year, including our staff this year was not expected,” Marjorie the director of the Neighbourhood House gushed.

Was this some alternate universe where gifts started popping up where ever you went. What the hell was going on? Had your team approved an extra donation at the last moment?  

It didn’t take more than a few minutes for you to figure out what was going on. There he stood, inside the main entrance of the building, hands in his pockets, bouncing on his heels, whistling a Christmas song and completely avoiding eye contact.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, walking up to the smirking man.

“Trying to follow in your footsteps and help out the community more? Is that okay with you?” Chris snapped back at you.

Storming out of the building, you rushed to your car, in hopes of escaping Chris. His long strides caught up to you in no time, meeting you at the SUV but before you could put your hand on the door handle, he took hold of your arm and turned your body to face him.

“Why are you so angry at me? All I did after I saw you three years ago, was to send you flowers! Do you hate flowers or something?! I’m trying to figure out what the hell I did to you to make you act this way around me?”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about; you’re absolutely delusional,” you spat at him and went to pull at the handle too fast, ripping back one of your nails. You shouted out in pain, holding your finger tightly with the other hand, face flushing red out of anger and pain.

He reached out, placing his hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from turning away. “Y/N-

“Don’t touch me!” You shouted, pulling away your arm in disgust, “the last time you did that, you broke my fucking heart!” And with those final words, you pulled on the door handle again, hopping into the car and screaming once more before starting the engine. Your head fell to the steering wheel, hitting your forehead into the it several times while angry words spouted out of your mouth.  

Having no idea what was going on, Chris drove away from the shelter, utterly confused by what you had screamed at him. How the hell had he broken your heart? After spending the night at your place all those years ago, a lazy morning and a wonderful breakfast, he had made his way back home with the promise to see you again two days later. Unfortunately, his schedule had a last-minute change and he had to head out several days earlier than expected. He’d spoken with Scott and begged him to pop by your office and drop off a bouquet as an apology and that he would reschedule when he returned to town the following week. What if...

Chris turned the wheel fast, tires screeching as he maneuvered a U-Turn and headed back towards his house. Once parked, he slammed his car door and pushed his way into his house, the aggression taken out on the door as he slammed it. He immediately headed up to the guest room to find his brother. He found him quickly, the younger Evans sitting back and looking engaged in a book that once sat on Chris’s nightstand. Scott jumped when Chris burst into the room, letting out a scream and throwing the book towards his older brother.

“Chris! What the hell, man,” shouted Scott and got up for the bed to stand in front of his brother.  

“I’ve got something to ask you and you better have an answer that makes sense,” Chris shouted. “What happened when I asked you to send Y/N flowers all those years ago?”

Scott nodded, his eyes looking to the ground, afraid to meet his brother's cold stare. “I... I forgot to do what you asked. I ended up with a call from my agent and was excited about the conversation I had and it slipped my mind. Plus, there were a thousand other things that came up that week. I’m sorry?” Scott apologized, looking up and meeting his brothers' eye, a little smile on his face, looking for forgiveness.

“Scott! What do you mean you forgot?” Chris stepped closer to Scott, almost nose to nose.

“Exactly what I said, I forgot to go by. I had a lot of other things going on that week if I’m remembering clearly. Was it too hard for you to call or message her?”

“I thought the flowers would be a romantic gesture. I can’t believe you never went by, now I know why she doesn’t want me near her. The thing is, when I got back, I did call her and she never picked up.”

“Do you not know how to leave a voicemail? A text? Are you really that idiotic?”

“She just...I just...” Chris couldn’t stop fumbling with his words.

“You’re something else, dear older brother. But I know you can talk and I know you have a romantic side. So, where to start?”

Chris shuffled his feet, embarrassed that he hadn’t given you the time and respect you deserved all those years ago. “I guess I should try to talk to her,” he mumbled.

Scott pushed his right shoulder, “Come on Rico Suave, you can fix this, right?”

“I’m pretty sure after her stewing on this for 3 years, that my chances are nil.”

“Bat those pretty blues and sing to her, I swear, use your Evans charm, or continue being a dumbass, your choice,” Scott shrugged.

Chris shook his head in annoyance and walked away from his brother. Could he fix this?

“So, lover boy, what’s going on in that big head of yours?”

“I’m going to go by her office and I’m going to beg her to come by the house.”

“And what

“I have an idea. What do you think about this...”

*

The chimes jingled as the door to your office opened “I’ll be right with you, I just have to send off this email,” you said. A few more words added and you hit the send button. “Okay, done. What can I help...” You tried to finish your sentence but that cat definitely had your tongue. The second your eyes met the blue eyes of the man you despised more than anything, you couldn’t finish asking your question.  

“Y/N, please, please let talk to you about what happened, or what I think happened. Please,” Chris pleaded, seconds away from falling to his knees and begging.  

You were tongue tied, the snark you could so easily dish out was stuck in the back of your throat, silenced.  

“I’m sorry that I came by work, I didn’t know how else to get a hold of you. You did a pretty good job of blocking me on every form of media and communication I have. When I saw Rosie, I couldn’t help but ask about you.”  

“Why are you here?” you whispered, trying to hold back tears that were fueled by sadness and anger.

“I want to, I need to talk to you about what happened. A few things came to light today, that I didn’t know and I would appreciate if you would take the time to listen and hear me out.”

Before you could try to respond, your phone sang out a tune, the one that you have reserved for Rosie. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you now had an excuse to pull your eyes away from Chris.

Y/N. Please give him a chance. Hear him out, I swear it's worth it.  

“Rosie is in on this too? Why are you involving my friends Chris? I swear, you better make this worth it.”  

“Please. Y/N. After you finish up here, will you come by my place and I promise all I want to do is speak and I’d appreciate it if you’d be willing to listen.”

You needed to sit down. The anxiety building quickly, you couldn’t breathe. “Fine. I’ll come by in an hour. I’ll sit. I’ll listen. That’s all. Deal?”

Chris’s face lit up, a half-smile forming, “Deal, I’ll see you shortly.” He gave a little wave and headed back out into the night.

You sat in your car outside of Chris’s beautiful house, nervous as to what the night was going to bring. After all of these years, what did he need to tell you? Would a simple text not suffice? You took a deep breath and unbuckled your seatbelt, ready to pull off the Band-Aid quickly and get this all over with. Feet finally out of your car, you walked across the gravel drive to his front door, knocking and hearing Dodger bark at the sound. Footsteps followed soon after, the door unlocked, and there, there was the most handsome man you had ever seen (and couldn’t stand).

“I was wondering when you were going to get out of your car. I heard you drive up about twenty minutes ago and I figured you were having second thoughts about coming. I’m glad you’re here though, so thank you.” Chris moved aside and you walked into the entryway, pulling off your shoes and placing the beside the door. “Follow me, we can sit in the front room. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m pretty sure a drink is necessary.”  

“Let me go grab something, take a look around, okay?”  

Walking to the couch, you checked out the little plants and decorative items he had placed around the room. There were some great art pieces on his walls and when you got closer to the couch, the painting hung above it stopped you. “What the...” It couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have known all this time and not have said anything. This man lived to rub shit in your face – the ultimate gloater. In front of you, on the wall above his couch, was the painting you had donated all those years ago to the gallery. Dodger’s nails tapped on the wooden floor, pulling your mind (and jaw) back into place. You heard footsteps following and a tune being whistled as he walked through the doorway, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.

“I thought you might like a glass of this, I...” he stopped halfway to you and realized that you were still standing in the middle of the room, your mouth half open and staring at him. His eyes flicked to the painting on the wall and then back to your face, you could see the look of panic slowly starting to take over. “I...I can explain,” he stuttered taking several steps closer to you.

“How-”

“There was something that was pushing me to find out and that night, I called the owner of the gallery and asked if I could find out which piece you had donated. She was hesitant to offer any details but as privileged as this sounds, I offered to donate a large sum to the charity and buy another painting from her gallery to get the information. I needed to see what you created and once I had it, I couldn’t stay away from you...which is why we kept running into each other the way we did. Please don’t be creeped out.”

“Are you completely forgetting about the whole fuck ‘n chuck moment? You hunt me down and flash your pearly whites at me, make me feel something for you, we get into bed, and poof, you disappear. Care to explain before I get the hell out of here? You replied angrily, your face flushing out of frustration.

“Y/N...”

“Y/N, what? Oh, it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t think it meant anything...”  

“That’s not it, that’s not it at all.”

"Then what is it, Christopher. You never shut up and when I need you to say something, you clam up. What IS IT?” You couldn’t help but shout, you were angry, sad, and had no idea where this was going.

“If you stopped jumping over what I keep trying to say, then maybe I could get everything out. So, for a few minutes, can you keep your mouth shut. Shit, and I thought I was annoying,” he explained loudly.

You nodded; eyes wide that he had raised his voice to get his story across. You were wound up so tightly, incredibly hurt by his action's years ago, that you didn’t exactly know how to contain and cope with your emotions. You took a seat on the couch and looked up at him, still standing where he first entered the room and had stopped when he noticed you looking at your own art in his house. He took a few steps closer and looked to you, “Is it okay if I sit on the couch next to you?”

“I guess...”

Chris sat a comfortable distance from you, placed the wine glasses and bottle on the table and waited until you settled and looked to him to continue on.  

“I messed everything up, I’m taking all responsibility for this giant mess.” Chris sat silent for a few moments, his fingers intertwined and his left thumb rubbing across the right. He was clearly nervous. Clearing his throat and lifting his head up, blue eyes meeting yours, he blinked once and began to speak. “It was never my intention to hurt you. I messed up and badly. When I left you that morning, my plan was to see you again, once I returned home from my work trip. Everything happened so fast that day and to be honest with you, my head was in the clouds; all of my thoughts revolved around you and the wonderful evening I had with you. I was so busy in dreamland, that I ended up almost missing my flight. I asked Scott to help me out and send a bouquet of flowers to you, with a note explaining that I had to leave earlier and that I would call you soon. The thing is, I thought he had followed through and didn’t even know until the other day that he had never sent the flowers or note to you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I did try to call though, when I was home and you never answered and I figured the night meant nothing to you.”

You sat there, silent for a few moments trying to take in everything he had said “Well, aren’t we a bunch of idiots,” you said, looking at him, a smile on your face.

The corner of Chris’s mouth lifted, a smile in there. “Does this mean you forgive me?"

“I mean, I’m still upset but I get that miscommunication can happen and I mean, how many people go as far as calling a gallery to hunt down a painting and then buying it. You’re pretty unbelievable, Evans.”

“But do you forgive me?” Chris asked as he scooted closer to you and let his fingers crawl closer to yours.

You took a hold of his hand and brought it to your lips, and kissed his knuckles softly. “I do forgive you Chris and I hope you forgive me for how hostile I’ve been. I really appreciate what you did for the Neighbourhood House too, I’ve never seen anything like that and you saved the day, so, thank you.” You kissed his hand again and looked up at him, a smile still on his face.  

Chris sighed and watched as you pulled his hand into your lap. “Y/N, is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?”

“That would make me incredibly happy,” you replied and moved in closer, meeting his soft lips again after all these years. “I’m still mad at you though, I hope you know that. And let’s not forget about Rosie. I can’t believe the two of you did this. I’m still mad at her too.

Chris pulled you in for another kiss, running his hands through your hair. “I know. I plan on making it up to you. I’ll help with every event; I’ll clean up your messy office. I’ll even carrying you and your toys through the slush.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and pull him down with you to lay on the couch. “I can’t wait for you to get started.”

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

So I had a small idea 👀 (bruh when I was trying to type somnopholia it tried to auto correct it to homophobia and I was just ????) I hope you all like it :)

Shownu

Monsta X Wearing a Skirt For You

  I don't know how the hell you convinced him to do it but a round of applause to you. He refuses to look in your eyes the second he puts it on. Not to say he hates wearing it, he just gets hella embarrassed when he does. He gets all flustered when you start telling him how pretty he looks and he'll just look down at the floor while he plays with the edge of his skirt 🥺. Continuously compliment him and I don't think he'd be able to say anything. His face would just be beet red cause pretty much all the blood in his body has rushed up to his face, but it's fucking adorable so you'd compliment him every chance you get. He'll only ever wear one when you tell him to but it doesn't make him any less beautiful. The only exception is when you fuck him and leave marks all over his thighs, like bite marks, bruises from where you hit him, scratches from your nails, you name it he loves it. He'll wear a skirt at some point the next day so every time he passes by a mirror he can look at them and remember how good you ruined him, leaving his thighs mostly bare so everyone can see them. Well, so you can see them. The poor baby would die if he ever had to wear one in public. Please don't do that to him, you can keep that beautiful sight just between the two of you. 

Wonho

Bitch was wearing skirts before he met you and was just waiting so he would know you wouldn't freak out and dump him. He just wore a skirt unprompted when you had returned home from work one day and you had a mini heart attack. He got all worried cause you just started coughing after choking on air. Everytime you see him in one after that though, you're still left breathless. Cause goddamn he looks gorgeous. He likes wearing them cause he feels pretty. One time when you were out you bought him a pretty pastel pink skirt and he wouldn't take it off for the rest of the day. Everytime he tries on a skirt he'll do a little spin then look up at you all like "Do I look pretty mommy? 🥺🥺" and y'know what who needs to live anymore? Your heart will die then and there, don't lie to me. Skirts aren't limited to the house either, he likes wearing them out in public. Honestly it makes you a little mad sometimes cause people's eyes will go straight to his thighs, though he doesn't seem to notice. You'll get over your anger as soon as he spins to you, pointing at something excitedly with a little smile on his face so it's all good. Bruh, I got bias wrecked so hard when writing this 😔

Minhyuk

This man practically lives on your lap when he has a skirt on. You're watching a movie and there's an entire couch available? Your lap is obviously the better option. Oh, you're working on something important from your home office that needs to be done immediately? You'll just have to rest your head on his shoulder cause he isn't moving. The main reason he does this is because when you zone out you'll unintentionally start running your fingers up and down his thighs which makes him  h o r n y. Yeah, the second you see that skirt on him you know that nothing's getting done except for him. You'll just be sitting there for movie night and cuddles then next thing you know he's grinding helplessly against your leg cause you kept touching his thigh. "Well don't touch me there unless you wanna fuck my brains out." Another perk of him wearing a skirt is how simple it is for you to just bend him over whenever you want. He likes the thought of you taking him whenever you want cause you just completely own him so he has no say in it (did someone say somnophilia 👀). The little fucker likes to wear lingerie as well, just to give you more of a reason to bend him over and fuck him silly. He won't even try to hide it either, if he thinks you aren't paying enough attention to him he'll just bend over right in front of you and show off what he was wearing underneath. This boy is such a cutie in a skirt but he's a little hard to manage so good luck with that. 

Kihyun

The only thing you'd hear from this man when you put a skirt on him is complaints. He loves to wear skirts, cause he looks so pretty and you never forget to tell him that, not that he'd ever admit it. The little brat likes to put up a fight against anything you do. He won't wear one on his own accord unless he knows you won't be home for a while. The rest of the time you have to tell him to put one on. Now, you would never ask your boyfriend to do something he's uncomfortable with, but you know that look in his eye. You know he loves it, but he just likes talking back to you so somebody's gotta put him in his place. That might mean "forcing" him to wear a skirt and just tying him up and teasing him until he finally tells you how much he loves it and how pretty he looks. The next morning he'll go right back to complaining about it so you shouldn't get your hopes up. You also notice how when you take him out shopping his eyes will start wandering over to the pretty fabrics he pretends to despise so much. Of course he'd take that little "secret" to his grave. Does that stop you from buying them when you go out alone and "forcing" him to try them on? Of course it doesn't.

Hyungwon

You first asked him to wear a skirt for you after their little family skit thing cause he looks too fucking cute as a girl and you found it a little unfair. Boy was hella confused. Honestly thought that you were just looking for a reason to make fun of him a little more. When he finally caved and wore a skirt, he was surprised by the way you looked at him. Which of course led to the bedroom. Wears them all the time after that. Mainly because when you fucked him while he was wearing it you wouldn't stop talking about how pretty he looked and sent his praise kink into overdrive. And of course this man looks amazing in a skirt cause he's got legs for days and you definitely spend your time doing actual work and not just staring and drooling over his legs. If you had never even tried to convince him to wear one when he has legs like that you have failed at life and I don't want you to talk to me. But he has definitely noticed the way you look at his legs all the time and oop- would you look at that now he has a pair of heels. For someone who has supposedly never walked in heels before he does surprisingly well though??

Jooheon

I think Jooheon would like wearing skirts. Not in public or around the rest of the boys (except maybe Changkyun cause they're best bros) but he likes to wear them. I think it'd be fucking adorable if him and Changkyun went shopping for skirts together. Since Jooheon is a little shy when it comes to wearing them, Changkyun gives him more confidence when they're out together cause he just doesn't give a fuck. His legs look so pretty in skirts though so even if he was wearing one just to wear one it won't be long before you have him bent over a table as you pound into him. Or if you have his hands cuffed behind his back while he rides you in a skirt; one of the best views honestly. Whenever he wears a skirt, his ass also looks amazing so you can't help but grab it or slap it everytime he walks by you. He's never complained before but 9 times out of 10 it'll lead to sex. One time he wore skirts for an entire week, which was a terrible mistake. The poor boy could barely walk the next week and even had to sit out for a few practises. Changkyun wouldn't stop laughing at him over the phone so you kept giving him whatever he wanted cause you felt so bad.

Changkyun

Honestly I feel like changkyun would like wearing a skirt for you the most. First of all, the members are always saying he walks around the dorms naked so I feel like he would appreciate the little extra freedom a skirt has as opposed to shorts or pants. Secondly, he would definitely start teasing you as soon as he sees how much you like it. You'd think this boy was the clumsiest man on the planet with how many times he drops things on the floor. Sometimes he'll even spill his drink on the floor just so he has to get on his hands and knees and clean it up. When you confront him on his behavior, however, he'll act like nothing was happening. "What? I wasn't doing anything provocative. Jeez (Y/N), I didn't realize you were such a pervert." He'll also wear thigh highs or garters to show off his legs and make sure you're looking at him. Gets pouty when you don't. "Daddy~ why won't you look at me? Do you think I got all dolled up for nothing?" (I am a firm believer that Changkyun has a daddy kink if you are male or female and you can fight me on that) If you think you can look at him wearing a skirt and not fuck his brains out you are delusional.

[master-thief-gray-shadow]

Earn It

Summary: With days before the district preliminary performance, Keke attempts to settle one more thing with Sumire.

Notes: So I just wrote a LL fic for the first time in almost 3 years. Figured I’d get one out eventually.

Three days until the district prelims. Three days until she would finally, finally be the center, the focus, the main attraction. Her heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute every second of the day. Every time she felt herself calm down a little she would imagine herself on that stage, in front of who even knows how many people, and she’d go dizzy all over again. It was overwhelming. She was exhausted, she’d barely slept because she just couldn’t seem to get her heart to stop racing. But she had never been happier to be so tired.

For what was probably the first time in her entire life, Sumire felt respected. At last, she wasn’t just some random stranger only good for a supporting role, she was finally recognized for her skill, her talent, and was finally going to shine. A part of her had given up on this. Show business was ruthless, and either you had what it takes or you didn’t, and while she certainly had something she had been starting to doubt if what she had really was what it took. But no, she knew now. She had what it took alright. Just took finding the right kind of stage for it.

In hindsight, perhaps she had been very foolish for doubting that she could be a school idol. Perhaps she had been a little too swept up in Ren’s then-dislike of school idols, perhaps, she realized, out of fear of being further ostracized. After all, the push for school idols was being helmed by a gutless coward and a loud, obnoxious, raving lunatic who seemed to take any pushback as an excuse to just be louder and obnoxious-er.

Of course she knew now that Kanon was anything but a coward. She was actually probably one of the bravest people Sumire had ever met. It took a lot of courage to face down obstacles even as your legs trembled the way she always seemed to. Sumire was honestly a little jealous of her, and it was that jealousy that had drawn her to the idol research club in the first place (or...well...maybe it was admiration. Sumire had trouble telling at times.) Kanon was nothing like her disastrous first impression had made her out to be. She was so much better, so much more worthy of respect.

Keke was also nothing like her first impression. She was, in fact, worse. Just such a stupid, delusional moron who did nothing but scream about school idols this, school idols that, and had standards that were high enough to have left orbit. Sumire could understand high standards and why someone would hold them, but Keke couldn’t even meet her own, a hypocrite if there ever was one. She’d been downtrodden and cast aside in favor of people who shone brighter for her entire life and for the first time Sumire actually felt genuinely superior to someone. She worked hard at what she did! She nurtured her talent, or what she had of it, and this girl who didn’t even comprehend that any kind of performance required, you know, actual work had the audacity to talk down to her! Even when Sumrie tried to play nice, give her the benefit of a doubt, Keke was nothing but rude and catty and seemed to jump through hoops to find any means of putting her down.

Why did Kanon put up with her? Why did any of the other club members put up with her? She was dead weight, a liability. A tiny, tiny part of Sumire wanted to throw the prelims, make Liella fall flat on their face, just so Keke would have to go back to China and she’d never have to see her or think about her again.

The sky was tinted orange as Sumrie left the school building, her feet already instinctually following the path to the shrine. Gods, she was tired, not just from the rigorous practice she’d just done but also because her nerves just wouldn’t let her rest. All she wanted right now was to lie down for a little while. She had the star power to nail that performance, sure, but star power meant nothing if she wasn’t well-rested. She was maybe five feet from the gate, almost to the sidewalk. Quickly approaching the threshold that meant she was well and truly on the way home.

“Hey! Hey Sumire! Wait!”

Sumire bristled as she recognized Keke’s voice. She had been sweet leading up to the performance. Not nearly as harsh or cruel. Almost kind. Too kind. Something about it made Sumire’s stomach turn. Oh, so now you see that I’m actually quite talented, and suddenly you want to be nice, is that it? Pathetic. Truly the mark of a weakling to start sucking up to someone once they prove themselves to be superior. If she really wanted to show some respect she’d just shut the hell up.

“What?” She glowered slightly as she looked back. Keke was surprisingly close, practically right behind her. At this distance it was easy to notice something...off about her stance. She seemed almost too rigid, too serious. Curiously, Sumire turned around fully to face the other girl. “I’m exhausted, so every second you delay me is a second I could be resting up for the live, you know.” She flipped her hair for good measure. Just so she wouldn’t seem too interested in why Keke had chased her down like this.

Keke was still and silent for a moment, her soft blue eyes staring straight into Sumire’s own. Sumire was starting to wonder if she’d just come here for a staring contest when she dropped onto all fours, her forehead pressed to the ground as she curled herself into a low bow.

“I’m sorry!” Keke wailed, a slight sniffle in her voice suggesting she was already past the verge of tears. “I’ve been so awful to you ever since you joined and I never even gave you a chance to prove yourself!”

Sumire’s jaw nearly hit the pavement. Okay, what the fuck? How the hell was she supposed to have prepared for something like this? All that practice ad-libbing and performing on the fly and here she was at a genuine loss for words. “You’re...sorry?

“I am!” Keke looked up at her, and as expected tears were running down her face. “And I’ve been thinking, and I realized that it’s my fault you didn’t realize your passion for school idols sooner!” She was on her knees now, her hands clasped in front of her as if praying. “I’ve been holding you back, Sumire. I’ll understand if you don’t have it in your heart to do so, but can you ever forgive me?”

Sumire gazed down at Keke’s face, streaked with tears and snot as she continued to cry. Disgusting. If someone was going to fake-cry to make a half-assed apology, she’d imagine it would look something like this. This was certainly how she would do it. But this was Keke. The girl was nothing but sincere and genuine every hour of every day, exhaustingly so. She wouldn’t lie if it was to save her life. She might not even grasp the concept of lies in the first place. If you told her the asphalt on the street was rock candy you could count on her running over to take a few bites. That would be funny, Sumire thought to herself. But it wouldn’t be very helpful in this situation.

“So you finally admit that I have the star power to carry Liella on my back, huh?” She folded her arms and laughed a little, her practiced, evil noblewoman’s laugh. She loved that one. “You come crawling back to me, the greatest in the galaxy, to beg for my forgiveness? Then beg!”

Keke did not beg. Instead her posture went limp, her head hanging low. She was silent, save for a few soft sobs, and Sumire was quickly overwhelmed by a growing sense that she had just really, really messed up.

“So,” Keke said, her voice quiet and hoarse, “you won’t forgive me?”

“I...” Sumire looked down at this crying, trembling shadow of Tang Keke. The girl who had been nothing but a pain this entire school year, the girl who had put her down so often and so flippantly. The girl who, deep down, was just as scared of losing her dream as she was. It wasn’t an excuse for anything, no. But Sumire supposed she’d done some things she didn’t have an excuse for, either.

“When we--when I win the preliminaries,” she said, her voice now much softer, but with just enough arrogance so as not to seem too soft, “then I’ll think about maybe forgiving you.”

“Really?” Keke leapt up and got right into Sumire’s face. Sumire did not need to see how red and puffy her eyes were at this level of close detail, she’d already gotten the point across. “You really mean it?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself!” Sumire said, pushing Keke off of her and flipping her hair again. “Remember, it’s only if we win.”

Keke stood straight, her expression now fierce and determined. Even through the mess on her face there was an undeniable fire to her aura. “Then I’ll work hard so we can win! I’ll earn your forgiveness, Sumire!”

“Hmph! We’ll see if that hard work pays off soon enough!” With one final flip of her hair, she spun around and resumed her route home.

She wasn’t ready to forgive Keke, not yet. But she supposed she had a few days to get there.

[yangrr]

dear no one [q.kun]

⇾ pairing : qian kun x reader

⇾ summary : love is worth the wait,especially when it’s your favourite food store aunty’s grandson

⇾ wc : 2k

⇾ genre/warnings : implied soulmate! au,inspired by Tori Kelly’s Dear No One | mild swearing

+if i may add,i want to dedicate this to @nctream​ who has always been the writer whom i admired for the longest time.thank you for being the sweetest person i came across this hellsite,though i never actually communicate with you but you’re so incredible and i hope you know that.much love!

All your life,you’ve wanted nothing more than to meet the one,the soulmate who was allegedly entwined with your soul before your time on Earth even began ticking.Everyone has someone,it was just a matter of time before you meet them.But that was also exactly why you were impatient,counting down daily on the crossed-out boxes of your yearly calendar,most of your friends had met theirs by now.Some married,some even with kids---or just happily dating.All but you.

It sucked really.

Going to work in the wretched company every day was like a punch to the guts when everyone around you was all about love.Mrs Kim on the marketing department always showed off her vacation photos--it was always jolly and exciting,grinning faces of her twin boys seemed to mock you for your lack of relationship.And there was also Mr Lee,a young intern who was at least 4 years younger than you but had already found his one and only.

And how about Mr Park,the old bumbling guy nearing his retirement age?His sweet plump wife never forgets to pack him lunch,constantly reminding him to wear his tweed coat in case he catches a cold in the draughty security room.

What about you?No one to come home to,no one packing your lunch or was there a partner for holidays.Twenty-three pushing twenty-four with no felicity in love.Lady Luck never smiled at you much,you could say.Maybe it’s your resting bitch face,it could probably scare off the fortune bearing deity and leave her quivering in her robes.

The day was cold as it is,heavy rain started its relentless onslaught on the wooden roof of the rickety store off the main road.You were craving hot soup after work and thought it would be a good idea to drive off course to visit the dear old lady who ran the shop on her own.She was an amiable creature,forever ready to offer a radiant smile that let her old beauty trickle through.The granny would probably be one of the few people you were genuinely nice to,which explains your big chunk of discount every time you stopped by.

But it wasn’t a good idea of course.Nothing you ever did was a good idea.

Your engine couldn’t start up after running in the rain for your car.Other than damaging the leather seats of your vehicle,your heels sunk deep into the slushy mud and broke right when you yanked upwards to get it out.Groaning in frustration,your fingers latched onto the tresses of your wet hair,the half-cracking nail getting caught between them.You forgot to cut them last night,and now it had turned its head back to bite you in the arse.

The you that made your way back into the shop shocked the small-framed lady,your disheveled appearance a huge contrast to the sleek you that had left the store a few minutes ago.You probably gave her little heart the dose of pump she never needed.

“Dear,what happened?”She exclaimed,scurrying over to you with two thick towels. “You’ll have to dry off,or you’ll be sick!”

She sat you down on the chair behind the counter,while you attempted to shield your ratty image from the prying eyes of her customers.It didn’t really work though,they still locked glances on you,curious and hushed gossip brewing among the group of malevolent looking ladies who look upon you with their beady eyes.

“Come,”She urged,ushering you towards the baby blue curtains that led into the kitchen,maybe.There was a “STAFF ONLY” hanging above the entrance,and the sound of pans clanging gave it away.

“Qian Kun!”Her frail voice shrieked in Mandarin, “Qian Kun,where are you,you lazy boy,”Tugging you by the arm,she led you further into the cooking area.The smell of cooking was making your full stomach rumble again,and you once again longed for the hot herbal soup with noodles. “Are you on your phone again?”

“I’m not lazy!”Was the reply.A fairly built man emerged out of nowhere,eyebrows furrowed in confusion when his eyes rested on your straggly form. “Who’s this?The new cashier?”He queried,wiping his wet hands on the rag by the table.

You couldn't answer,your usually sharp tongue felt prickly and numb.You only stared back absent-mindedly,but he looked about as enamoured by you like you had been by him.

You knew the old lady told him something,and with the way she was yelling at him,you figured he was too zoned out to concentrate.Both of you tore your gazes away from each other when his grandmother reached up to his broad shoulders to give him a good shake.

“You never listen to me.” She grumbled,huffing indignantly. “All I told you to do is to lend them something to wear,and drop them back.”

The granny gave Kun a small shove, “Naughty boy,and you were so cute back then.”She muttered,retying her apron hastily and hurrying away to wait on the unattended counter.

“I’m still cute now.”He mumbled,looking sheepish in front of you. “I-uh-I apologise,that was embarrassing.”

“No worries.”You let out a small giggle,waving his comment off. “Your grandmother is cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up in an amused smile,while he gestured for you to follow him. “I hope you can fit into my granny’s clothes,they are a little old-fashioned but I think you can make it work.”

The door behind the pantry led up to a stairway of wooden steps,and then into a fairly warm lounge.There was a small couch,and a bed accompanied with a shelf of books and board games.You supposed that this could be their resting place of some sort when they closed temporarily for the day,lunch break, or whenever someone feels a little out of it.

“This place looks really comfortable.”You remarked,shifting your black button-up from sticking onto your skin.It clung on like leeches,making this whole ordeal more unpleasant than it already is.The nail was giving you excruciating pain,the shard of the broken end digging vehemently into your fingertips.

“It is,my granny made sure it’s the best condition so all the employees would feel comfy here.” Kun rummaged in the closet to the left of the bed,fishing out a pair of loose black pants and a plain white tee. “Here,she didn’t leave any shirts here,but I hope you’re okay with mine.”

You nodded thankfully,reaching out to take them from him.The shirt smelled nice,your nose picking up on the lavender-scented detergent wafting from the material.

“Then I’ll drive you home?” The warm tone of his voice felt homely, sending hot waves across your body,making you feel like a lightheaded teenager talking to their crush for the first time,tongue heavy with nerves.But yet at the same time,the attraction that bloomed in your chest felt more matured and controlled than the seventeen-year-old you,age muffling the lovesick squeals that you would’ve let out when you’re alone in your room.

You had felt something when you first landed eyes on him,a familiar feeling stemming that made it impossible to wound your mind around.Maybe it was your affection deprived self that was being delusional,and it would pass like one of your many fleeting crushes.

But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander,thinking about what if he was the one you’ve been waiting for?

+

If there was a chance to hit the pause button,you would, in half a heartbeat.The quiet fragments of conversation shared brought you a sense of ease that you’ve never felt in a long time,with white noises and soft tunes of guitar strumming playing from the car radio was almost ethereal.The drizzle of the rain incorporated flavour to the moment like the topping to your favourite dessert,it was the perfect addition that completed the time shared.

“I’ll drop by tomorrow to return the clothes.”You said,unbuckling the seatbelt as he stopped in the lobby of your apartment complex.

“Alright,I guess I’ll see you tomorrow again?”Kun smiled,the kind that made your organs go mushy and all gooey,like someone stuck a ladle in you and began to stir aggressively.

“For sure!Thank you for the lift.” You limped out of the car slowly,careful to not cause more impairment to your shoes.You didn’t fancy going up the elevator looking like someone ran you over with a truck,but there wasn’t much of an option.

All you could think of that night were Qian Kun and his calloused fingers,deep timbre voice and gentle smiles.Maybe you were going crazy,but again,there wasn’t much of an option either.

+

“You seem very happy today.” Mrs Kim from the marketing team mentioned,the cheerful grin almost blinding you.You couldn’t help but spot the striking resemblance of the smile to her sons.Now,it suddenly appeared more kind and less scornful than you thought,and you felt a little bad for always being grouchy towards her.You realised it was nothing but your loneliness coming into play,and you would even admit that you were envious of her happy family life. “Had a great day yesterday?”

“Not really,no,”You told her. “But I guess it wasn’t all that bad.”

So the tales of yesterday’s misfortunes came pouring out of you,from the dreaded engine to the antagonising broken nail,Mrs Kim was more than shocked to see the unconscious tug of your lips upwards.

“And you’re still smiling after all that?”She laughed. “I’m gonna say that you met someone.”

Your eyes widened a bit,trying to cough it off. “I didn’t!It was just the store owner’s grandson.”

“So there is someone?”Mrs Kim waggled her eyebrows at you. “You cannot hide from me,child.That’s the face of an infatuated person.”

+

The bell jingled when you pushed open the glass door.Stepping in,you opened your mouth to greet the granny like usual,but was met with an unknown face gaping at you.It was a boy,around a few years younger,round marble eyes curious yet welcoming.His booming tone greeted you,far too much enthusiasm for your liking.

“Hello,welcome!What would you like today,miss?We have chicken noodle soup for today’s special and--,”

“Lucas,please stop talking so loudly.”Kun’s voice reverberated from behind the thin curtains. “You’re gonna scare all the customers on your first day.”

“I’m here to see Kun.”You spoke to the giant of a human,glancing swiftly at the kitchen entrance,slightly intimidated by his tall stature.He gave you a quick once-over,looking a bit confused.

“Are you his girlfriend?”He questioned,shooting you a broad smirk. “Kun ge is so lucky,I’m--”

“Lucas,what’s taking so long?”Kun appeared again like the first time you met him,drying his damp hands on a small rag. “Oh!”

“Oh,indeed.”Lucas said,mischief written all over his face. “Is this your girlfriend,gege?Should I let granny know about this?”

Kun scowled at him,murmuring something along the lines of ‘if you don’t shut up,I’ll make sure you don’t have a job by the end of today.’

“Hey.”

You passed him the neatly packed parcel, “I’ve washed everything.Thank you again for being so kind to me.”

“I say this calls for a celebration.” Lucas interrupted,peeking from behind the cash register. “Kun,remember that sushi place you wanted to try out?The one near the local university.”

Kun hummed, “What celebration?”

“That someone is finally into you for the first time in twenty-four years?You should appreciate this effort made by this very beautiful individual.”

“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?”Kun hissed,the frown intensifying.

“Well,if you need someone to go with,I know a person who would very much like to.”You interjected,growing more bashful by the second.

“Great!Now you two settle between yourselves.I’ve got work to do!”Lucas said brightly,darting away.

Kun smiled,tucking his phone away in his pocket,glittering irises not leaving yours.

“I’ll call you.” He promised,and somewhere in you just knew he would.

And as you made your way out of the store,the keen sense in your being told you that something very special was about to begin.

Good things truly do come to those who wait,after all.

[theangryjikooker]

pet peeve anon here 🤧

I’m so glad you decided to create this blog because it has allowed a lot of jkkrs share their grievances with the community and what its turning into. I apologise for my rant in the last ask. Though it was long overdue i hope i didn’t come off rude. Sometimes its really hard to watch a community that once was centred on loving & appreciating two beautiful souls turn into a scavenge for victimisers and toxicity. I’m a jkkr myself who believes there’s a possibility of jkk being together in a romantic way. So i think the issue you and many us have (if i’m not getting ur stances wrong) has nothing to do with our beliefs in jkk but with the jkkr community, and maybe the maknae shipping community in general. And i’d like to say your answer to one of the ask inally hits the head on the nail concerning ships within the fandom & how its perceived. Majority of the time what turns general armys away from the shipping community is the false positive motivations plus the high dramatisation of the moments.

My question however is with the intensity & surety to which these toxic jkkrs ship do you think they are wilfully/consciously setting themselves up for a big disappointment when it does comes out jkks relationship has been platonic all along. and how do you think majority would react to that news; remain delusional, blame jkk for acting up queerness, move on or continue to support them regardless of their status.

Welcome back, anon! 💜

It seems like that is the general consensus among Jkkrs who find themselves here, and I'm glad that my blog can serve as a safe space who want to air out their grievances, as you said. To be honest, a lot of these grievances aren't even remotely provocative, but they're often treated that way. It's weird that it's had to come to this--where they can't even use their main accounts to say what's on their mind.

You didn't come off rude, don't worry! I don't mind lengthy rants either; it's helpful to get a full scope of where a person is coming from. I don't think any of us aim to complain just to complain, and people should see that our sentiments aren't stemming from out of nowhere.

So i think the issue you and many us have (if i’m not getting ur stances wrong) has nothing to do with our beliefs in jkk but with the jkkr community, and maybe the maknae shipping community in general.

You're right and wrong, at least if we're talking about where I stand on things. More right than wrong, anyway. Some of my issues also are in regards to some of the beliefs people have, which I sometimes think goes overboard. In a way, it's a result of how some of the community thinks so again, not entirely wrong.

In response to your hypothetical question: yes, I do believe toxic Jkkrs will face a reckoning at some point. The problem with toxic Jkkrs is that they're already insanely attached to their narratives. You know how some people go crazy when they're in love and do things that are extreme and out-of-character? This is the behavior that I'll come to expect from them if or when Jikook goes on with their personal lives separate of each other. I expect some of the things you brought up might happen, but I can't speak for any of those Jkkrs as to how they'll react. I think if Jikook were to go on dating/marrying different people and Jkkrs continue to passionately believe Jikook are seeing each other, then that is a blatant and unhealthy obsession, and I will want no part of it.

For now, though, there's no telling what the future holds for Jikook. As long as the potential of them can still exist, I'll be here.

[flow-green]

19-08-2021

 “I think I’ve never had more chaotic year than this one,” I confessed one evening when we drove in a car somewhere. My SO gave me a warm look and I checked to the back seat where my Charlie-baby was sleeping. If somone would have told me year and a half ago that 2021 will be a true turnaround in my life, when I will throw away all the life chains and take full control, I would have rolled mye eyes and gotten back to my endless vicious circle of career. I think ever since 17-years old I have followed the norms the society has set up: graduate high school, sprint through university, meanwhile make sure you work so you won’t get drowned in depts, get a job for your field of interest, in the meantime take some loan for some random house and if you have a moment, please, make some babies. Ever since I was a child, I knew right away: that’s not me. I don’t know what it is that makes me want to break these frames. But, oh well, there is no point to raise my voice for my own good as all the other people around me are nicely stable in the system. Some of my exes are on the same line: if you are not a parent by age 31 and do not own a gorgeous house in the suburbs while paying a sickly huge loan, meanwhile ignoring your family, friends and hobbies to make ends meet just so you could work yourself to deah by age 40, then you are a loser.

Few weeks ago in Saaremaa, while tipping my toes and feet into the warm and comforting waters of Estonian sea, I realized where I have drifted with my life. Only now I have started to realized that, f**k me sideways, I am actually a living human being. A LIVING person. I LIVE.

About 2 months ago, near summer solstice, I finally felt the finalizing ticking in my brain that pushed me gently to the edge of unknown. “Will you?” the life asked and motioned me to jump. “Or will you stay here forever, wondering what’s down there?” And so, with shivering hands, I clicked ‘send’ button on the mail that delivered my resignation letter to my boss. Done. Over half a year full of mental terror and a slow suicide will come to an end. At this point I had insane regrets. How am I supposed to throw away an opportunity and 6-year long career just because I do not want to live anymore? Now you’re probably thinking I am being a drama queen and overexaggerating. Oh, dear god, no. There were days, where everything started to tumble down in one go: my love life, my family relations, friends and work relations. On these days I switched myself and my phone off, listened to some serious melancholic tunes, sat alone for hours or drove around with a car and now, admitting for the first time: I hoped that something will happen and I do not need to live here anymore. I admitted this once also in my therapy, that I have frozen up while driving, not really giving a damn about my leg on gas pedal and about the speed.

I am once again a fat, useless, lazy, clumsy, slow and unorganized. Blessed with sore black eyes, a girl with unstable nervs and flaked nails. And all this just to give myself to a work which does not appreciate any sacrifices I make.

And I did it. This is MY life. My path and my decision, I ain’t going anywhere and even if I do, I’ll go with a smile on my face and as a queen for a day.

Few days ago I realized with full heart that this was one of the most important decisions in my life. I went for a run, as I have started to pick it up again. I went and set a goal to run approx 20 minutes. I had time. No rush. Only responsibility waiting for me was one project to improve a home page of our fresh company, but there was no strict deadline nor a passive aggressive boss-lady stalking my every move and making sure I am around even off-hours. So, my 20 minute run became to a 1 hour run, which was successful, nicely progressive and easy. I enjoyed every minute, because I was present. I had nowhere to hurry. I did not worry about the future or the past. I was just excisted. And I breathed.

I think I have cried more this year than in total for all past years. In my 9 to 5 appartment cubical lifestyle I always pushed away everything that demanded at least some movement out of comfort zone. For exaxmple I always closed in when my ex partner had an idea to do some changes. Well, true, his changes did not comply with my dreams. I did not want to get a huge loan to buy a house and sprint out 2 babies just because ,,Martin and Marge had their second kid in their gorgeous house and Martin is only 1 year older than me.” OK, is nice for them I guess? Every time these silly arguments started to come up, I switched myself off into my safety bubble, all alone. I let no emotions, chaotic situatons to influence myself and I just slowly flew on my laid down path, with eyepatches on. I always knew I want something different. I wanted to fight and be heard. Every time there was a conflict at work, with a friend or family member or with a partner, I eliminated it in the early stages and just ignored the rest.

And when these eyepatches were finally removed, everything else followed. I had no pink glasses or filters for emotons. Real life was there for me, but not always in a bad way. Real life offered everything, you only had to have guts to reach out and take it, with all its plusses and minuses. Take it, dominate, take responsibility, but don’t just float by. Get yourself togeter, notice, do, learn and experience. If not now then... when?

This half of a year has thrown so many obstacles and opportunities on my way and I have caught most of them. I guess one of the most difficult period was spending some insane time at a house in the middle of nowhere, without any water or normal comforts. This has made me appreciate small benefts of our everyday life.

I think I have mentioned this earlier as well, that February and March were probaby the hardest months this year. I was given a challenge to overcome and boy, it was tough. Namely, I got pregnant. As a woman who has never wanted to become a mom due to several and long reasons which I will not discuss today, I was in a cocmplete shock. I felt happy, scared, angry. Why now? Universe has its twisted sense of humour and it turned out that the pregnancy is not carriable for medical reasons and abortion is a must. I did not have a single day to stay home and mourn and endure grief. Oh, no, they needed me back to work ASAP. So I ignored the pain of loss and carried on with even more enormous work tempo to keep up. This period started a chain reaction which pulled me cruelsomely to the edge of the cliff. Work does not sleep, it waits impatiently. Even on these two horrible days I had to go through with the process, I did some work since I had become irreplacable.

All the emotions sealed up just blasted out as soon as some smaller bebble hit my bicycle. I cried hysterically, screamed. There were no days where my eyes weren’t bloodshot and with dark underlines.

In some sort of a sick twisted way I felt good, since I was needed, everything depends on me and I am sure it will get paid off nicely in the end when I have worked until my nose bleeds. In this tunnel vision I did not realize that skipped recovery and unresolved grief had made me this maniacal, delusional self-centered zombie, who lived for her workdays. All my free time I spent worrying about next work day. I did not notice anymore how my mom is doing, how are my friends and what is my partner up to. Every time we went off to one of our van trips I just existed somewhere in my thoughts about how much there is still to do. And it’s even more sadder, that I did not even notice myself anymore in the free world.

“Yea, but how would you go on?” was the main question I was asked when with a shaky voice I admitted that I need to quit my job right now and don’t want to take such responsibilities for a while now, only for myself. Everyone can do it. If there is a will, there is a way.

I am happy that I have at least won almost the entire battle with eating disorder, although I have to admint I am not proud over the inner criticizm about my body, which has grown 8 kg heavier since last summer. This means I still have days I hide under baggy clothes and just wait until these dark thoughts pass. There are days where I absolutely veto going to the beach because ‘it’s cold’. Actually I am reminding myself of that year where I had a killer six-pack, hip bones and tiny bikinies fit me so well, but now I look more like a curvy, slightly soft female not nearly showing signs of being physically active. Although, I am now in that golden zone where my weight is not going up nor down almost at all, no matter how much or little or what kind of foods I eat (plant based always of course). I guess it is positive, my body has found it’s perfect zone, but I--- don’t really like it. This mentality here is something now that I have to work with, with all my spare and peaceful time.

Since 25 July I am (f)unemloyed. And happy. I have made sure that I will be secured, will not be homeless and have food and I have a first step of a plan prepared. Priority for now is to help myself out of this destructive black hole that influences not only me but other close ones as well.

I don’t have black shadows under my eyes anymore. I sleep deep, without any random wake ups, I finally have time and motivation to cook, bake and test out recipes that have been collecting dust since forever. From day to day I get back to introduce myself to my long lost hobbies like kite surf, reading, writing, drawing and yoga.

I have finally startrd to realize that next to me there are people that I love unconditionally and to whom I have shown insanely rude attitude. Have you ever felt that re-falling in love again? I am currently feeling it with tripple multiplications, because I have once again fallen in so much love with my dog, my boyfriend and my hero on this topsy-turvy road, my family, friends and life itself.

I will not even take a glance anymore to that 100 promises I made earlier this year. Life is just so much different with completely new challenges. If anything, then I can mark this time period here as my new and fresh chapter for my life.

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[northwest-writing]

Hardly the First Lyrical Analysis of "Stacy's Mom" by Fountains of Wayne

This morning I was doing my usual routine of completing household chores (bed making, laundry folding, etc.) and listening to my carefully curated boogie playlist while dancing around my room, when I found myself doing something I’m sure every person born after the release of the Sony Playstation has done at least once in their lives--engaging with the lyrics of Fountains of Wayne’s 2003 hit, “Stacy’s Mom”. Absurd and uncomfortable enough in both its subject matter and execution, this favorite of every roller rink and bowling alley DJ for the last seventeen years need not be absorbed with much of a critical ear at all in order for any listener to feel its discomforting effects. The chorus alone already tells the very clear story of “I’m hot for some poor teenage girl’s single mother.” It is important here that I digress for a moment to clarify: I like this song. It was in my boogie playlist for a reason and that reason is because I believe there is a time to dance and a time to think critically and they simply do not overlap. Would a lot of people disagree with me that “Stacy’s Mom” is even a song you can dance to? Probably. Make your own playlist. You can include all of your dumb songs about being attracted to people your own age. People that have more important things to do with their time don’t often extend their critique of the story of Stacy and her hot mom very far beyond the well known chorus or perhaps the first verse. I have found, however, that the more carefully I listened to the lyrics of this song, the more thoughts I had about the plotline being presented to me. Without further delay, I would like to share those thoughts with you.

Introduction

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Already, the piece starts off strong by introducing us to both the main subject of the song and a rough idea of the narrator’s perspective on her. Thus far we don’t quite know the full nature of the relationship between Stacy’s mom and the narrator, so we are enticed to continue listening. The repetition of the same line four times could perhaps be representative of an obsession based in desire. This section evokes the image of a young man rocking back and forth in a corner somewhere, repeating to himself the one thing he still knows to be true, “Stacy’s mom has got it goin’ on.”

First Verse

Stacy, can I come over after school?

(After school)

We can hang around by the pool

(Hang by the pool)

Did your mom get back from her business trip?

(Business trip)

Is she there, or is she trying to give me the slip?

(Give me the slip)

Now we are clued in to the narrator’s connection to Stacy’s mom through Stacy, who we know has both a house and a pool and lives with her mom who sometimes goes on business trips. We can assume based on this one sided conversation that Stacy and the narrator are classmates, most likely in middle school or high school. At first, it seems as though the narrator has a genuine interest in spending time with Stacy herself, but any hopes we might have of a happily ever after for her are quickly dashed by the second half of the verse, where we get an even deeper view into the narrator’s fixation on Stacy’s mom. He has even begun experiencing irrational concerns as to whether or not the adult woman who occupies his every thought has been deliberately avoiding him.

Pre Chorus and Chorus

You know, I'm not the little boy that I used to be

I'm all grown up now

Baby, can't you see?

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

She's all I want

And I've waited for so long

Stacy, can't you see?

You're just not the girl for me

I know it might be wrong but

I'm in love with Stacy's mom

Several contradictory pieces of information have just been presented here. After the narrator explains that he is in fact older than he used to be, which is...duh, he goes on the claim that he is “all grown up now” even though just moments prior, he was discussing hanging out “after school”. If the narrator is truly as grown up as he claims to be, he is either a sad college student or an even sadder adult man whose only friend is a school age girl with a hot mom. We are going to continue to assume he is a delusional teenage boy. He then goes on to boldly state that Stacy’s mother is all that he wants. We are already aware of the unhealthy infatuation the narrator feels for Stacy’s mom, and now our concerns are even further confirmed.

The narrator also briefly touches on Stacy’s possible disappointment at not being pined for by the narrator, but we aren’t actually given enough evidence to suggest this was even something on Stacy’s mind. In fact, we cannot confirm based on the lyrics alone that Stacy is even friends with the narrator. It is possible we are being told a story from a very skewed perspective by a teenage narcissist completely consumed by his feelings for a suburban woman. The final nail in the coffin of this section of the song is when the narrator acknowledges that his feelings “might be wrong”. We can infer that the reason this fantasy relationship “might be wrong” is because the narrator is much too young for Stacy’s mom. This refreshing awareness could lead us to believe that the narrator understands that his love for his classmate’s mom is nothing more than an ordinary teenage crush.

Second Verse and Second Pre Chorus

Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?

(Mowed your lawn)

Your mom came out with just a towel on

(Towel on)

I could tell she liked me from the way she stared

(The way she stared)

And the way she said

"You missed a spot over there"

(A spot over there)

And I know that you think it's just a fantasy

But since your dad walked out

Your mom could use a guy like me

That’s it officer. That right there is the line that fucked me up in the middle of my morning. Up until now an argument could be made that the narrator is just wrapped up tight in a daydream that he is somewhat rationally aware of. But now we can see that he is, in fact, really trying to plead his case for why he should bone down with Stacy’s mom.

Outro

Stacy's mom, oh, oh

(I'm in love with)

Stacy's mom, oh, oh

(Wait a minute)

Stacy, can't you see?

You're just not the girl for me

I know it might be wrong but

I'm in love with Stacy's mom

The most resonating line in the whole song is perhaps that parenthetical backup vocal line, “wait a minute,” I agree. Pump the brakes, Fountains of Wayne. You’ve just divulged way more than I think anyone--including you--were prepared for. This track should have included one full minute of contemplative silence at the end of the original release. And yes, I do mean for the radio version as well. The least a music producer could do for an audience is allow a moment to regroup and reevaluate after hearing such a Donny Darko-esque confession by a grown man representing the character of a teenage boy. Therapists don’t schedule their appointments back to back, and I’m even less qualified to hear something like this.

To view this song simply as bowling alley pop music would be a waste of time. “Stacy’s Mom” by Fountains of Wayne is a macabre, absurdist microscope on early-2000’s American suburbia, and the failings of a sex-negative modern culture on the mental well-being of sexually frustrated teens, masquerading as a charmingly perverted Top 40 pop tune.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Inferno Chapter Two🔥

Part Four

Yandere! Dabi

A/N. Crazy Dabi baby. We finally get to the big picture of the series. Thank you for reading! (All parts can be found under the Inferno tag!, Chapter One can be found under the Icebox tag! )

Dabi was cleaning his home , he wanted to make sure it was nice and inviting for you. He put a fresh new blanket on the bed and smoothed it out nicely. He also put a big pillow on it too. He went over to the dresser pulling something big and clanky out and dragged it over to the wall hooking it on. He hurried over to the window opening it up letting in the nice breeze, it was a regular window and not too high up. Dabi was very eager , he could not wait any longer . He wanted you here. Where you would be safe.

Before Dabi left his home he wanted to check the news. Dabi yawned going over to the chair in the middle of the room , a small table was next to it with a little tv on it. He sat down turning the tv on.

‘We are still covering the event that happened last night outside the hospital. A nurse was found dead by her car on the ground completely burned all over. We are thinking she was set on fire by a quirk —‘

The tv was shut off and laughing filled the small room.

You were being questioned by youre doctor on this early morning. In fact he woke you up to talk to you. He asked if you knew anything about what happened and how the heck would you know? You were stuck in a hospital room not allowed to leave. You explained this to youre doctor and just shrugged it off.

“How would i know anything?!?” You asked growing agitated with him.

“I think we should move you to a psych ward, you must be delusional . Is ice cube really youre quirk? Are you hiding something ? “

“WHAT?!?, get out!!!” Tears fell from youre face and you fell into a caughing fit .

The doctor went to the door and looked back. “We can just force youre signiture, expect to be moved later this afternoon. They will get you the help you need” he slammed the door leaving.

You held youreself digging youre nails into youre arms and youre mark. You cried falling to youre side from the pain. What were you going to do? Where was Dabi? He said he would be here today ..

You were alone all morning , no breakfast and no medicine. You even buzzed the desk and no one showed up. No one cared... not youre parents, Aizawa.. youre friends.. but... Dabi.. Dabi cared. Hes just a little late. You rubbed youre mark feeling some blood , you got out of bed looking for bandages . Medical supplies fell to the ground as you dug through the medical pack next to the bed . Nothing. You opened the desk digging through it finding one bandage strip.

Dabi opened the door going in closing it behind him to see you holding the bandage to youre bleeding arm. You looked over with tears falling down youre face.

“Y/N!!!! “ Dabi sprinted over to you grabbing youre arm looking it over. He reached into his pocket grabbing some bandages wrapping up youre arm. You cried into his chest trying to explain.

“The doctor!!! My nurse... i... they are going to move me to a psych ward!!! Dabi please help me...!” You whined shaking , ice cubes were falling from youre palms to . The ice cubes melted into Dabi’s scrubs instantly. You felt an intense heat coming from him, he tipped youre chin up and he... looked very frightning to you. His eyes were half lidded and his brows were bunched together.

“Y/N... do you trust me?”

“Yes! Of course i do Dabi!”

He cupped youre face with both hands wiping youre tears with his thumbs . “Close youre eyes..”

You closed them shaking a bit and Dabi pulled a cloth out of his pocket holding it to youre face . You inhaled it and got dizzy , you passed out and Dabi caught you putting you over his shoulder. He held you in place going to the bed placing his hand on it . Blue flame burned his glove away and set the bed on fire . He went to the door leaving youre room walking down the hall, his hand dragging against it setting it ablaze. He didint care if people were in the rooms , didint care who the fire hit.

Once he got to the stairs he went down setting whoever was passing by him on fire . He dragged his hand down the hand rail setting it on fire. When he got to the main entrance people were panicking . The hospital was on fire and people were trying to get out. Dabi flicked fire all over the large room and left out the front door. He set the plants on fire and the ambulances.

Dabi slipped away in the confusion getting in his car, he put you in the back and sped off to his home.

You woke up a little later in a new bed . It was very soft and you sunk into it. You reached around touching the pillow feeling the fluff and the fabric on it. You sat up and felt something heavy on youre neck . “Wuh..?” You touched youre neck feeling a .. a collar? Youre hand dragged down feeling a heavy clunky chain . You tugged it but it was stuck to something . “Huh?!?”

“Y/N? Youre up . How are you feeling?”

You jumped looking over to see Dabi sitting in the chair staring at you. He did not have the scrubs on . Instead it was a black tank top and pants . His... his arms .. his neck .. were all scared and stapled what? What happened?

“Dabi?!? What happened! Im stuck i cant!!”

“Sshh...” he got up going over to a switch turning it on . The room lit up and you were terrified at what you saw. It was pictures of you. Everywhere. All over the walls. “Y/N, my precious Y/N. Its okay. Here look.” He went back to the chair turning the tv on next to it.

‘The same hospital has been set on fire !!! Apparently someone set it on fire and took a patient!!!’ The tv turmed off.

“Youre safe here Y/N. Did you see the news? I burned it down!!! For you! They were mistreating my precious Y/N! I couldint... let that happen!!! And and.. they were going to take you away from me!!! . But youre here! with me! “

You sunk into the wall and the bed not saying anything at all.

“Y/N? You okay? Are you hungry? What would you like?” He asked running to you getting on the bed spooking you. He grabbed youre hands looking very concerned. “Y/N? Are you okay? You.. you love me dont you? I love you so much. When... Shoto told me about you i fell in love. I... could not stay away. Youre dorm is so cute! It looks like a dorm you would have. And the sports festival?!? You were amazing!!! “

“Sho...shoto?! What i.... Dabi!!!!”

“Oh i never mentioned! Shoto is my younger brother! We actually wanted to take you together “ he squeezed youre hands grinning . “But he lied.. he took you all for himself.”

You did not know how to comprehend this . You ... you loved this man right? He cared ... he .. cared.

He pulled you close hugging you and petting youre head in long slow strokes. “Oh Y/N... im so happy!!! We are going to be so happy together!!”

You leaned into his chest closing youre eyes. “We will be happy together Dabi.”

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 22 of 26

Title: House of Leaves (2000) 

Author: Mark Z. Danielewski

Genre/Tags: Horror, Fiction, Metafiction, Weird, First-Person, Third-Person, Unreliable Narrator 

Rating: 6/10

Date Began: 7/28/2020

Date Finished: 8/09/2020

House of Leaves follows two narrative threads. One is the story of Johnny Truant, a burnout in his mid-twenties who finds a giant manuscript written by a deceased, blind hermit named Zampanò. The second is said manuscript -- The Navidson Record -- a pseudo-academic analysis of a found-footage horror film that doesn’t seem to exist. In it, Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Will Navidson moves into a suburban home in Virginia with his partner Karen and their two children. Navidson soon makes the uncomfortable discovery that his new house is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Over time he discovers more oddities -- a closet that wasn’t there before, and eventually a door that leads into an impossibly vast, dark series of rooms and hallways. 

While Johnny grows more obsessed with the work, his life begins to take a turn for the worse, as told in the footnotes of The Navidson Record. At the same time, the mysteries of the impossible, sinister house on Ash Tree Lane continue to deepen. 

To get a better idea try this: focus on these words, and whatever you do don’t let your eyes wander past the perimeter of this page. Now imagine just beyond your peripheral vision, maybe behind you, maybe to the side of you, maybe even in front of you, but right where you can’t see it, something is quietly closing in on you, so quiet in fact you can only hear it as silence. Find those pockets without sound. That’s where it is. Right at this moment. But don’t look. Keep your eyes here. Now take a deep breath. Go ahead and take an even deeper one. Only this time as you start to exhale try to imagine how fast it will happen, how hard it’s gonna hit you, how many times it will stab your jugular with its teeth or are they nails? don’t worry, that particular detail doesn’t matter, because before you have time to even process that you should be moving, you should be running, you should at the very least be flinging up your arms--you sure as hell should be getting rid of this book-- you won’t have time to even scream. 

Don’t look. 

I didn’t. 

Of course I looked. 

Some story spoilers under the cut. 

Whoo boy do I feel torn on this one. House of Leaves contains some really intriguing ideas, and when it’s done right, it’s some of the best stuff out there. Unfortunately, there are also several questionable choices and narrative decisions that, for me, tarnish the overall experience. It’s certainly an interesting read, even if the whole is ultimately less than the sum of its parts. 

First of all, I can see why people don’t like this book, or give up on it early (for me this was attempt number three). Despite an interesting concept and framing device, the first third or so of the book is pretty boring. Johnny is just not an interesting character. He does a lot of drugs and has a lot of (pretty unpleasant) sex and... that’s pretty much it, at least at the beginning. There’s occasional horror sections that are more interesting, where Johnny’s convinced he’s being hunted by something, but they’re few and far between. Meanwhile, the story in The Navidson Record seems content to focus on the relationship issues between two affluent suburbanites rather than the much more interesting, physically impossible house they live in. The early “exploration” sections are a little bit better, but overall I feel the opening act neglects the interesting premise. 

However, unlike many, I love the gimmick. The academic presentation of the Navidson story is replete with extensive (fake) footnotes,and there’s tons of self-indulgent rambling in both stories. I personally find it hilarious; it’s an intentionally dense parody of modern academic writing. Readers will note early that the typographical format is nonstandard, with the multiple concurrent stories denoted by different typefaces, certain words in color, footnotes within footnotes, etc. House of Leaves eventually goes off the chain with this concept, gracing us with pages that look like (minor spoilers) this or this. This leads into the best part of this book, namely... 

Its visual presentation! House of Leaves excels in conveying story and feeling through formatting decisions. The first picture I linked is one of many like it in a chapter about labyrinths. And reading it feels like navigating a labyrinth! It features a key “story”, but also daunting, multi-page lists of irrelevant names, buildings, architectural terms, etc. There are footnotes that don’t exist, then footnote citations that don’t seem to exist until one finds them later in the chapter. All this while physically turning the book or even grabbing a mirror to read certain passages. In short, it feels like navigating the twists, turns, and dead ends of a labyrinth. And that’s just one example -- other chapters utilize placement of the text to show where a character is in relation to others, what kind of things are happening around them, and so on. One chapter near the end features a square of text that gets progressively smaller as one turns the pages, which mirrors the claustrophobic feel of the narrative events. This is the coolest shit to me; I adore when a work utilizes its format to convey certain story elements. I usually see this in poetry and video games, but this is the first time I’ve seen it done so well in long-form fiction. City of Saints and Madmen and Shriek: An Afterword by Jeff VanderMeer, both of which I reviewed earlier this year, do something similar, and are clearly inspired by House of Leaves in more ways than one. 

And yes, the story does get a little better, though it never wows me. The central horror story is not overtly scary, but eeriness suffices, and I have a soft spot for architectural horror. Even Johnny and the Navidsons become more interesting characters over time. For example, I find Karen pretty annoying and generic for most of the book, but her development in later chapters makes her much more interesting. While I question the practical need for Johnny’s frame story, it does become more engaging as he descends into paranoia and madness.

So why the relatively low rating? Well... as I alluded to earlier, there’s some questionable stuff in House of Leaves that leaves (...hah?) a bad taste in my mouth. The first is a heavy focus on sexual violence against women. I did some extensive thinking on this throughout my read, but I just cannot find a valid reason for it. The subject feels thrown in for pure shock value, and especially from a male author, it seems tacky and voyeuristic. If it came up once or twice I’d probably be able to stomach this more easily, but it’s persistent throughout the story, and doesn’t contribute anything to the plot or horror (not that that would really make it better). I’m not saying books can’t have that content, but it’s just not explored in any meaningful way, and it feels cheap and shitty to throw it in something that traumatizing just to shock the audience. It’s like a bad jump scare but worse on every level. There’s even a part near the end written in code, which I took the time to decode, only to discover it’s yet another example of this. Like, really, dude? 

Second, this book’s portrayal of mental illness is not great. (major spoilers for Johnny’s arc.) One of the main things about Johnny’s story is he’s an unreliable narrator. From the outset, Johnny has occasional passages that can either be interpreted as genuine horror, or delusional breaks from reality. Reality vs unreality is a core theme throughout both stories. Is The Navidson Record real despite all evidence to the contrary? Is it real as in “is the film an actual thing” or “the events of the film are an actual thing”? and so on and so forth. Johnny’s sections mirror this; he’ll describe certain events, then later state they didn’t happen, contradict himself, or even describe a traumatic event through a made-up story. Eventually, the reader figures out parts of Johnny’s actual backstory, namely that when he was a small child, his mother was institutionalized for violent schizophrenia. Perhaps you can see where this is going... 

Schizophrenia-as-horror is ridiculously overdone. But it also demonizes mental illness, and schizophrenia in particular, in a way that is actively harmful. Don’t misunderstand me, horror can be a great way to explore mental illness, but when it’s done wrong? Woof. Unfortunately House of Leaves doesn’t do it justice. While it avoids some cliches, it equates the horror elements of Johnny’s story to the emergence of his latent schizophrenia. This isn’t outwardly stated, and there are multiple interpretations of most of the story, but in lieu of solid and provable horror, it’s the most reasonable and consistent explanation. There’s also an emphasis on violent outbursts related to schizophrenia, which just isn’t an accurate portrayal of the condition. 

To Danielewski’s credit, it’s not entirely black and white. We do see how Johnny’s descent into paranoia negatively affects his life and interpersonal relationships. There’s a bonus section where we see all the letters Johnny’s mother wrote him while in the mental hospital, and we can see her love and compassion for him in parallel to the mental illness. But the experimental typographical style returns here to depict just how “scary” schizophrenia is, and that comes off as tacky to me. I think this is probably an example of a piece of media not aging well (after all, this book just turned 20), and there’s been a definite move away from this kind of thing in horror, but that doesn’t change the impression it leaves. For a book as supposedly original/groundbreaking as this, defaulting to standard bad horror tropes is disappointing. And using “it was schizophrenia all along” to explain the horror elements in Johnny’s story feels like a cop-out. I wish there was more mystery here, or alternate interpretations that actually make sense. 

Overall The Navidson Record part of the story feels more satisfying. I actually like that there isn’t a direct explanation for everything that happens. It feels like a more genuine horror story, regardless of whether you interpret it as a work of fiction within the story or not. There’s evidence for both. Part of me wishes the book had ended when this story ends (it doesn’t), or that the framing device with Johnny was absent, or something along those lines. Oh well-- this is the story we got, for better or worse. 

I don’t regret reading House of Leaves, and it’s certainly impressive for a debut novel. If you’re looking for a horror-flavored work of metafiction, it’s a valid place to start. I think the experimental style is a genuine treat to read, and perhaps the negative aspects won’t hit you as hard as they did to me. But I can definitely see why this book is controversial. 

[wewillwriteyou]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 5

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 5:  Boundaries between real life and fantasy are getting more blurred by the minute: Elizabeth and Gwilym know something about it. Who could have imagined that rehearsing a simple dance choreography on stage would have caused so many mixed emotions? Especially, when jealousy works harder than reason.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: ‘Angst is in the air’, but apart from that and a terrible rollercoaster of emotions this chapter is safe territory for everyone. 

A/N: Don’t miss this chapter, folks, because some little events that happen in this one will change the whole dynamics between the characters. Enjoy and ... get ready for the drama. It’s coming 😏🧚🏻‍♀️ 

Tuesday, 12 November 2019

“When at home air smells like betrayal,” sentenced the Sorcerer “even the strongest give in at the weakness of the heart”

“Alright people, let’s try this again” Denise shouted from her seat in the first row of the auditorium.

At her call, all the actors on stage took their places on the little white ‘x’s that marked their spot at the beginning of the scene.

Denise smiled knowing Joe would have been very pleased once the whole act was completed. He had left her on watch that morning since he needed to go into town to pick up some mail and a few more things for the stage.

She had been sceptical when Joe had offered her to co-direct the musical but as days went by, she had come to even enjoy her work behind the scenes. She hated to admit that Joe was right, but she did love being part of the production.

“Didi, should we do the dance sequence as well?” Elizabeth appeared on her left and made her jump for the surprise.

“Uhm… yeah, sure if you want” she said “Just give me ten mins to see if this works and the stage is yours”

Elizabeth smiled and walked back to her seat a few rows back, next to Gwilym and Rami.

“What’d she say?” the latter asked.

“She said it’s okay” the girl untied her ponytail and braided her hair on her shoulder, “I think we should try both scenes…”

“Both?” Gwilym asked, startled “Our sequence isn’t even finished yet…”

The redhead stopped for a moment then shook her head. “It’s been a week since we last rehearsed… it’s not gonna hurt to practice the scene and the dance sequence altogether…”

Gwilym was definitely sceptical and frankly quite nervous to show the whole auditorium how he still could not dance. It didn’t matter what Liz thought or said: he still felt like the least graceful dancer of all time. He was quite sure Liz had only always been gentle with him just cause she was Liz. She was way too polite to hurt his feelings, but he never believed she meant what she said.

He felt like he had only gotten the part because he was Joe’s roommate and best friend. And he could almost hear the whispers of the rest of the cast wondering why the hell he’d been cast in the first place.

However, he couldn’t seem to be strong enough to let go of the musical. There would have been still time to find someone new, better than him for the part. But he inexplicably held on to the role, ignoring the voices in his head.

What’s so important that is keeping you here? he thought to himself and as if the universe wanted to give him an answer he felt someone calling him.

“Liz to Gwil – the redhead was waving a hand in front of his face – you there?”

“Uhm? Yeah,” he shook the thought from his head. You’re delusional, Gwil.

“I asked you if it was okay that Rami and I went first” Elizabeth repeated, wondering why he seemed so distant. Had she said something to upset him?

Gwilym nodded “Sure, it’ll give me time to read the script again”

Elizabeth smiled and got up to head to the stage, soon followed by Rami, not before he’d turned towards him and winked, “Don’t worry man, you’ll be great”.

Gwilym just smiled and let his gaze wander around the auditorium. Elizabeth had already sat next to Denise and they seemed to be quietly chitchatting.

Are you sure there isn’t another reason why you’re avoiding the dance sequence with her? his inner voice could not hold back anymore. You cannot tell me you didn’t feel your heart beat faster when she showed you the steps the first time.

Gwilym sighed and watched in her direction one more time. Elizabeth was already on stage, setting up the props for the scene. He got up as well and without thinking about it sat beside Denise in the second row.

“Oh, so you do exist. I thought you were just the phantom of the opera, who spies rehearsals from a corner and tries to scare actors away…”

Gwil chuckled “It’s just my turn soon”

“Sure. Whatever you say, phantom” Denise shrugged, glancing at him on her side and catching him with an embarrassed smile on his face.

As he watched her act that small scene with Rami that was supposed to be one of the first scenes of the musical, he realised maybe for the first time how natural it came to her.

It was not Elizabeth on stage, it was Princess Hyv.

She always joked – sometimes actually complained – how Joe’s play had taken over her life, but watching her on stage, acting, dancing and singing a few verses, he realised how much she was having fun.

He knew her to well not to recognise the smile she tried to hide every time she felt like nailing the scene.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stopped to look at her, wondering if his eyes were fooling him and the fluttering of his heart was only coincidental.

He’d had a crush on Lucy for like a year and knew very well the feeling of being around her and feeling his stomach tingle with butterflies.

But with Elizabeth it’s different. As he thought that, he admitted to himself for the first time that there was something else between them, beside friendship.

Yet, aside from a few glances and some awkward smiling, he couldn’t figure out whether she felt it too.

When the scene ended and Elizabeth turned to Denise, and he noticed how her eyes sparkling with joy, their gazes met for a brief fraction of a second and he could swear he’d felt his heart flutter.

Not a good sign, mate.

Denise got straight up and started applauding, as well as the dozen people in the otherwise empty auditorium.

Elizabeth giggled and took a deep bow, before taking Rami’s hand and repeating the gesture. They both chuckled as they walked down the steps of the stage, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Liz, oh my God! – Denise cheered – you guys were amazing!”

“Thanks, Didi” Liz hugged her tight before turning to Gwil, who was still sitting in second row, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I’m ready when you are”, Liz smiled to him and he felt his heart definitely flutter. Again.

Twice in less than a minute. Not a good sign, mate.

How was he supposed to act and dance with her in front of the rest of the cast when he was not sure he could have held it together?

“Gwil – Liz awoke him from his thoughts – are you okay? You’re on another planet today…”

“I’m fine. – he gave the three pairs of eyes staring at him a small smile – I’m ready”

Liz nodded, not quite convinced but too into her own thoughts to wonder about it. The adrenaline of perfectly handling the scene with Rami was still running through her veins but she was terribly worried how Gwil would have had an effect on it.

Every time they rehearsed together she could feel her heart speeding and slowing at irregular rates.

Besides, this was no regular scene. It was the scene their characters met for the very first time.

Their characters were written as to they would fall in love by accident, by mistake, and Elizabeth felt like laughing at the irony.

Could it be that she was falling for him because of their characters? After all, everything had been fine before they started rehearsing…

Was she falling for Gwilym or for Hymy?

Gwilym was such a good actor that every time they read lines, she could see that he completely disappeared into his character and he became the gardener of the castle, the only person who understood the princess’ urge to escape from a set up marriage.

She was completely smitten by everything he said when they were on stage, like she was bewitched by his voice.

They got up on stage, both with the head full of thoughts, without the faintest idea how similar their minds were as they took their places and got ready to start the scene.

Elizabeth turned around, tying the long skirt around her waist – her character was in fact supposed to have a long dress in that scene.

Breathe in. Breath out., she repeated to herself.

“Has the sky always been so blue? – she started – Has the palace always been this splendid?”

Gwilym knelt on the ground, pretending to be planting flowers.

“Is princess alright?”

She swiftly turned, stumbling on her feet “I am not quite sure, sir – she stumbled again – My head is spinning so fast but the world seems suddenly so bright and its colours so vivid”

She brought the back of her hand to her forehead and smiled absently, letting herself fall backwards.

But before she could hit the ground, Gwilym caught her in his arms and smiled.

She returned his smile and a sparkle flew between them.

That was supposed to be the moment their characters fell in love. The potion had kicked in and cast the spell. The magic was done.

“Miss, you ought not to be out here in your situation. May I take you to your rooms?”

“What? No! – Elizabeth said, acting indignant of his suggestion – No, I want to see the world! Today seems so beautiful and new!”

She jumped right up and started running around the stage, as the music began to tune in the background. He was following her right after, checking she didn’t fall or faint like she just had.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

“I don’t know – he chuckled – I cannot help it. It’s stronger than me”

She chuckled as well and started pirouetting all around the set up garden. The music started to fill the air and gradually their running around turned into dancing.

Elizabeth started spinning around and hiding behind panels that meant to be columns and fountains in the palace’s garden. Gwilym was right behind her, sliding gracefully as to mimic a game of hide and seek.

Suddenly he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer and making her gyrate in front of him. The smiles on their faces were anything but pretend-smiles and Elizabeth thought they were close as ever.

For the final step, he extended his arm out and she pirouetted away from him far enough to be pulled closer right back.

Elizabeth completed her last spin by bumping into Gwilym’s chest and almost making him fall. He grabbed her by the shoulders and managed to hold them both.

She mouthed a thank you, momentarily sliding out of character, and smiled looking up to him. She realised she was closer to his face than she’d ever been and thought how blue his eyes looked under the floodlight of the stage.

As he stared into her eyes, the only thought roaming around in his head was how much he wanted to kiss her. Her face was so close he could basically feel her breath on his nose. He hoped time stopped so he could consider that decision, but his muscles acted faster than his brain and all he knew a second later was that his lips were on hers.

***

“Sorry, I’m late!” Alex’s footsteps could be heard down the hall, meaning she was running upstairs as fast as she could.

Joe rolled his eyes and snorted “I’m having a deja-vu…”

Before she even turned the corner, he could already hear her voice telling him were to go. And he was not mistaken.

“I was finishing the paper sheet for the song in act two, you moron” she hit him on the shoulder and Joe chuckled.

“Just kidding, you know how much I appreciate your contribution” he blew her a kiss and it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“So, why are you not in there directing, Mr. Director?” Alex questioned as they proceeded down the corridor.

Joe chuckled “I went to the tailor to pick up the costumes but apparently I drove up there for nothing cause they won’t be ready for another week at least…”

They reached the end of the corridor and Joe let Alex walk ahead of him as they began climbing the last flight of stairs.

“Thing is, I’m always everywhere but in the auditorium and I really wish I didn’t have to do all the errands by myself…”

“I can help you with that, if you want – Alex offered, turning her head to politely smile to him - Just tell me the day and I’ll pick the costumes up for you”

Joe sighed and smiled “You are a doll, Alexandra, I’m telling you”

Alex turned again and winked “I know”

As they turned the corner heading to the main door of the auditorium, they heard chattering and when Joe heard Alex muttering something that sounded like ‘shit’, he grinned, cause he knew exactly who the chattering belonged to.

“Hey guys – Joe greeted Ben and Allen, caught in some chat of theirs about the imminent canoeing race – what are up to?”

Allen smiled widely and wily glanced at Ben before answering “Well, I heard a rumour that my good friend Benjamin was rehearsing today so I figured, why not?”

Ben stared at him with dead eyes but a grin on his face “You better be joking or I’ll throw you out that bloody window…”

They laughed at his threaten and Joe noticed Allen glancing at Alex. What the hell is going on here?

As he thought that, Allen turned to the girl “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Alex”

She smiled and glanced sideways at Ben, who was staring right at her. Joe saw her straightening her posture and taking a step closer to Allen, as if something had crossed her mind.

“Good to see you too, Allen. If we don’t stop meeting like this, I’ll think you’re following me” she chuckled and he followed right after, while the other two boys looked at each other confused.

Allen smirked, “Well if you want we can stop meeting by chance and, say, meet at Costa’s tomorrow morning for coffee?”

Joe raised his eyebrows. What the heck? He glanced at Ben and could have sworn he’d felt his gaze burning Allen’s jacket. He giggled too himself. Why are those two so obvious and yet still too big-headed to let the other closer?

“I’d love to” Alex smiled, to Joe’s – and Ben’s – surprise.

Joe decided he’d had enough of that game and walked across the love triangle.

“Alright guys, I’m sorry but I gotta get to work” he walked up to the main doors of the auditorium and pulled them open, letting the others enter behind him.

He recognised the music right away and felt his muscles tense up. Hyv and Hymy’s first scene together, the moment they fall in love.

After that night at the pub almost a month before, Joe had tried to eat his feelings and store down everything he thought he felt for Elizabeth, but he knew perfectly well that that situation was eating him alive instead.

He was the one who’d cast them to be lovers and he hated himself for that choice. Well not hated hated himself. But he kept thinking if he’d never cast them, that whole situation would have never been a problem.

He’d always suspected one of the trio would have developed feelings for someone else inside the trio; he’d never thought it’d be him.

As his mind reminded him what a poor choice he’d made, he pushed the doors open and the scene before his eyes left him frozen on the spot.

Elizabeth and Gwilym were kissing. At the hem of the stage.

He was definitely not ready to face such a scene.

He felt blood pumping in his head and for a firm half minute his mind clouded, leaving him sad, angry and confused walking down the aisle-way.

“What the fu-” he muttered, before beginning to march faster towards the stage and raising his voice “CUUUT!! CUT CUT CUT!” he yelled.

Elizabeth jumped on her feet and abruptly broke the kiss, stepping backwards and trying understanding what was happening around her.

“What the hell, Joe?! - Denise yelled back at him – what’s the matter with you?”

“THAT – he pointed at the couple on stage – is not meant to happen till the second act. SECOND!”

“Chill out, mate – Malcolm stood up from his seat and walked up to him – they did a fantastic rehearsal and I think that kiss is the cherry on top of this scene”

He patted him on the shoulder and walked away, before he could be reached by Joe’s deadly look.

“Malcolm's right – Denise jumped in – I think you should consider moving that first kiss here. It just makes sense…”

Joe looked up to his best friends up on stage and let his arms fall down.

“I’m sorry everyone” Joe started. He sighed, his hand scraping the back of his head nervously “Look, there’s a lot of things going on right now and I’m sorry I lost it…”

Liz and Gwilym were still staring at him like two deer caught in the flashlight of a car. It was clear they hadn’t registered what had just happened either and, maybe for the first time, he actually didn’t know how to talk to his best friends.

He couldn’t stand their gazes any longer and the fact that neither of them had said a thing was killing him.

“We’ll… uhm… we’ll discuss this next time, guys. I’m sorry I need to go…” he looked away and turned his back and without another word, walked back the way he came.

“Are you okay, Joe?” Alex placed a hand on his arm enough for him to slightly turn in her direction.

He gave her a small smile “I’m fine, just need to be somewhere right now…”

“Joey, wait!” Elizabeth spoke up at last, picking up her long gown and jumping down the stage to run after him.

“Please, don’t call me Joey, Elizabeth” he abruptly replied without stopping.

“We need to talk-” she walked faster so she could grab his arm but he was quick to shake off her grip and turn to look at her.

“Elizabeth, would you let me go?! – he realised he was being a tad more dramatic than he’d thought, but anger had taken over his mind. No, not anger. Sadness. – We’ll talk later.”

And with that said, he walked out of the auditorium and disappeared in the corridor.

For a few seconds the auditorium stood still, in complete silence.

The drama had only just begun.

***

Elizabeth was walking up and down her room so fast, she thought she’d consume her soles. Her hand fidgeting and picking the cuticles was not helping calm down her nerves.

‘What now?’ was the only question her mind could elaborate.

After Joe had come in the auditorium, caused a scene and stormed out, rehearsal had been just weird. It seemed like everyone in there was wondering what the hell was going on between the three of them. And, frankly, Elizabeth was wondering the same thing.

What happened to us?

At the beginning of the semester everything was working out just fine and where were they now?

She’d never forget the look Joe had given her before rushing out of the room. He looked appalled. Mortified. Sad, even. But the thing that bugged her the most was that he’d called her ‘Elizabeth’. The two of them had an unstated agreement that they’d be calling themselves by full name only when one of them had screwed up.

She stopped and crashed on the bed with a loud sigh, her hands joined on her forehead to cover her eyes.

The worst thing is I have an idea about why he’s mad at me, she thought to herself.

As much as she would have wanted to forget that whole thing, her mind kept on replaying the last few seconds of the scene with Gwilym.

When they were inches from each other, she remembered asking herself whether it was a good idea to get even closer. No it wasn’t a good idea, you moron.

Though, she hadn’t had much time to think and before she knew it, Gwil’s lips were pressed against hers.

She realised she had a lot of expectation on that kiss and when it’d happened it was… different. Not in a bad way, but not even in the best way. She still needed to make up her mind about that feeling.

A knock on the door made her jump on the bed.

“I’m coming, Alex, just let me get my keys” she fumbled in her purse.

“Ehm… it’s not Alex”

Elizabeth froze on the spot. Gwilym.

“Oh… well… let me get this-” she tucked the key in the door and pulled it open. Gwilym was leaning on the door frame, a small apologetic smile on his face.

“Hi,” she smiled lightly and moved from the entrance “Come on in.”

He awkwardly smiled, “I’m sorry to bother you right now… it’s just… I didn’t know who to talk to…”

Elizabeth sat on her bed and clumsily gestured him to do the same.

“Don’t worry – she smiled as he sat down – ‘twas pretty bonkers before, huh?”

She didn’t mean to bring that up so soon, but who was she kidding? That was the only topic worth talking about.

Gwilym giggled and shifted on the mattress “I’d say that, yeah…”

He glanced at her and there was her heart pounding again in her chest.

“Look, - he started – if that kiss made things weird, let’s please just forget the whole thing, alright?”

Elizabeth looked down to her hands “I didn’t think it was weird – she answered with a low voice – until I heard Joe shouting. Then I thought he was weird…”

Gwilym chuckled and she smiled, happy she could at least break some tension.

“Why’d you think he’s so mad at us?” he asked.

“He’s mad at me, not us…” she corrected him, before wiping some loose hair from her forehead and sighing.

“I think I’ve known Joe long enough to say that that reaction means he felt betrayed… - she looked at him, but Gwil was looking down – I think that seeing what he saw he felt like we were betraying him and cutting him out of the trio…”

“Well, what are we supposed to do, ask him to join?” Gwil burst out, making Liz chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant, doofus – she bumped her shoulder against his arm – I think maybe he would have wanted us to talk to him first”

“And ask for permission? Who is he, the godfather?”

“Would you stop? I’m trying to have a serious conversation…” she said between laughter.

“Sorry sorry – he bumped her back and turned to look at her – I think you may be right…”

Elizabeth nodded and looked away to her hands again.

“So, - Gwilym began again – about that kiss… did it mean anything for you?”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow “Boy, you go straight to the point, huh?”

Gwil chuckled “Sorry, it’s just who I am… - he stopped to see if she’d had any reaction to his question and all he could see was some redness on her cheeks. He smiled – If it helps, it meant something for me…”

Elizabeth turned her head to him and this time he was staring back. She smiled, “Me too” she just replied.

She caught his gaze wandering from her eyes to her lips and then again to her eyes, his mouth curving in a small smirk.

Elizabeth realised she was relentlessly inching toward him, as his hand slowly crawled to her knee.

“Last time we were this close it didn’t go so well…” she whispered.

“Well, there was an audience staring at us…” he whispered back, making her lightly chuckle.

“Ehm, Gwil? – her mouth was completely dry as she tried to articulate a sentence – We should, ehm… probably talk to Joe first…”

“Mmh… - Gwilym seemed to agree – soon”

“Yeah. Soon,” she breathed before getting an inch closer and sealing the distance between their lips.

-

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A/N: Hello folks! We know you’re shocked: the ending is pretty unexpected. Or, at least, we hope you liked it! Let us know what y’all think about this chapter!

Enjoy!

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