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sunjaesol · 2 days

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too young to think about all that shit (are you bored yet?)

juke | human au | title: are you bored yet? // wallows ft. clairo

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Julie Molina was completely, utterly bored out of her mind.

Seated beside Nick, his warm arm casually slung along the back of the sticky leather couch — her legs sticking to the material, her blue skirt awkwardly bunched and wrinkled — while being totally ignored as he spoke to his jock friends in that jovial way only boys could muster. It sounded fake, thought Julie, too polished and sanitised, as though he knew a college scout was watching and seeking for the perfect lacrosse player. If she was honest, he looked like one: tall, blonde, a row of pearly whites shining in the lowlight of the house party, and a girlfriend like a high-ranking toy one won at a fair.

So yes, Julie was bored. She wanted to dance with Flynn, but promised Nick to stick around for the stories she’s heard numerous times before. She wanted to play a rousing game of Just Dance with Kayla and a couple of other girls in the living room, mere feet away from where Julie sat. It was fun for the first few songs to watch from a distance, but now her legs felt skittish, buzzing to move and go and be.

A suffocating sensation embalmed her. Her body tensed, shivers racing from her toes to the back of her head and she, promptly, jerked upwards. Her legs and the couch ripping apart made her cringe, but not as much as the astounded expression on Nick’s face.

“Uh,” he drawled, “everything okay?” His friends shot her imploring looks, as if daring her to continue. She didn’t know when she stopped being Nick’s girlfriend and started becoming an accessory. Or when she stopped feeling anything at all. Those giddy sparks were gone.

She forced a smile and tapped her sneaker against his. “Yeah. I’m going to the bathroom, okay?”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

The girl didn’t need more than that. Spinning on her heels, she hurried out the pressing circle of jocks and loud music and sweat, building and hurling around her to the bpm of a hyper-pop song. Subconsciously, her fingers began tapping against her thighs to the beat of the song currently playing — a top 40 hit, by some singer who looked and sounded like a lot of other singers — and found refuge in the kitchen. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as crowded. The luxurious Malibu home from the hostess held a spacious kitchen, with only a few other girls scattered around in gossiping groups.

A content sigh left her. Finally. Some peace of mind.

Walking to the fridge, she grabbed the first cool can she found, a Coke, and pressed it against her cheek. Unbothered by the few partygoers, she allowed her head to fall against the metal door and close her eyes.

She should break-up with him. But then what? She blabbed Flynn’s ear off for years about her insurmountable, unstoppable, irrevocable crush on Nick Dawson, and now, six months later, she wanted to give it all up. Couples went through rough patches, right? This was normal.

But she still wanted to do something. Something that wouldn’t make her feel like screaming her lungs out every and any second.

“Uh, you okay?” A voice quipped.

Julie jolted back, hitting the countertop beside the fridge in surprise. It didn’t hurt, but the boy still grimaced, as though feeling her pain.

“Sorry,” he continued, a nervous hand reaching to scratch the back of his head. “Just wanted to grab a lemonade.”

“It’s fine,” she said and then opened the Coke as well, as to not seem totally insane.

As he looked for his drink, her eyes inconspicuously took him in. She didn’t recognise him, presumably going to a different school, because, well… she’d remember if a boy liked that walked around on campus grounds.

His athletic built and broad shoulders were the first thing she noticed, a black cut-off band tee showcasing his defined arms and the side of his ribcage. The simple drawstring trousers and beanie made her eyebrows raise, however, the contrast of the hot and cold funny yet oddly intentional. He looked in his element. The checkered Vans had scribbles on them, like hers, only more erratic. A wave drawn inside a sun caught her eye.

“What’s that?” she found herself asking. What spurred her, she didn’t know. Maybe for some goddamn extraordinary happenstance.

The boy found his drink and shut the fridge doors. He blinked at her, like he did a double take and finally registered the girl that had been standing there. “Huh?”

Pushing back her awkwardness, she pointed at his feet. “On your shoes. The sun and the wave.”

“Oh!” He perked up and bounced on the balls of his feet. “That’s the original logo for my band, Sunset Curve!”

The attire suddenly made sense. A careful smile grew on her lips. “You have a band?”

“Yeah,” he grinned and then scooched forward, just enough to intrigue her. Gesturing with his drink, he added: “Think 90s grunge with 2000s pop punk. Hella guitar riffs. Killer basslines and drums that, like,” he mimicked the sound of an explosion, “totally rock your world.”

Julie giggled. She couldn’t help it. “Yeah?”

“Oh, for sure,” he pressed, so convinced in his band’s talent it made her want to play again herself. Where did he draw the confidence to campaign for his band to a stranger? Could she tap into that, too? “We’re gonna be legends one day. Oh!”

Digging a hand in his pocket, he unearthed a wrinkled sepia-tinted pamphlet and gave it to her. As she smoothed out the edges to read it, he let out a sheepish chuckle.

“The copy shop, it kinda went a lil’ crazy the other day, that’s why it’s all yellow-looking.”

SUNSET CURVE

SATURDAY MARCH 21TH @ THE CARAVAN

TELL YOUR FRIENDS!

Julie stopped herself from asking why he went to a copy shop to print out flyers (it was 2020, who went to a copy shop anymore?) and instead focused on the venue and date. And there, below the catchphrase, a pixellated picture of the band with their names scribbled by.

Luke. She looked up at him. It fit him well. Luke. Simple, short, cute.

Oh, God. Her cheeks flushed at the intrusive compliment she’d mentally captured him with. Cute. Luke was very, very cute. And he looked at her a little too intently to deny he found her cute as well.

Forcing herself to check the other names — Alex and Reggie — she found herself lingering on the blonde. Where had she seen that face before?

“Oh, wait,” she chimed in, “I know Alex! I’ve seen him at Carrie’s dance competitions. Do you know Carrie Wilson?”

His eyes lit up in recognition. “Yeah! You’re friends with her?”

“Um…” Well, they weren’t enemies anymore, were they? They patched things up at Homecoming. “Yes. Yeah, we are.”

A quiet beat fell. He seemed to struggle with something to say, opening and closing his mouth while a charming grin grew, bashful of his own nerves in an honestly really attractive way. Her heart pounded high in her chest. She hadn’t felt like this before. Her stomach twisted in all the possibilities this conversation could go, one digging between her ribcage to force more words and laughs and smiles, one tingling her hand to touch the corded muscle on his sunburned shoulder, one rooting her feet to the ground; to stick around.

Julie realised it’s been awhile since she’s been wanted and looked at and spoken to in the way he did right now. How goddamn nice.

He eventually stuck his hand out. “I-I’m Luke, by the way.”

Julie bit back a smile and lamely waved the flier around. “I know.”

“Right.” Luke let out a breathy laugh. His hand dropped. “Right. Um…”

“I’m Julie,” she supplied, eager.

His face lit up and a perfect smile stretched his cheeks. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Her brown eyes locked with his green ones, hazelnut-shaped and wreathed by dark lashes. It held something soulful, she found, even in the yellowy overhead lighting and the sheen of sweat. Something about his energy was just so enigmatic, that only a few minutes with him left her unmoored. How despondent she appeared before, how alive she felt now.

A boisterous cheer from the living room pulled them from their stare, Julie’s eyes flicking down like she’s been burned by a hot iron and mustering a nonchalant smile. Or trying to, at least. The cheers reminded her of her previous plans: to play Just Dance and have fun with her friends.

Also, she had a boyfriend. Jesus christ, get a grip!

“Thanks for the flier,” she trailed shyly, unsure how to quite end their moment. “Maybe I’ll come watch.”

“You should,” he said, “The Caravan’s a great venue.”

“I know,” she replied, the words pouring out like they’d been putting pressure on her tongue, finally springing free. “Blossoms was amazing last fall.”

His jaw fell slack in awe. “You went to see Blossoms?! Dude, I love them! I-” He abruptly cut himself off and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “D’you wanna meet Alex and Reggie? Officially? They’re playing beer pong outside. Reggie fucking loves Blossoms.”

Another opportunity to escape the mundane: meet new people, become friends, possibly talk music in ways she couldn’t with others, not even with Flynn. Play beer pong, maybe stand a little closer to Luke than necessary. The fantasy played in her head like a movie, but then a thought occurred.

Her head tilted, amused. “Won’t they—?”

“Julie?”

The sentence froze between her teeth, never to be finished, as her attention was ripped away to Nick walking into a kitchen with a surprised look. Her bubble with Luke snapped. She felt her back turn rigid, a nauseous feeling of betrayal crawling up her throat that couldn’t be ignored. What was she thinking? Flirting with some guy while her boyfriend was around the corner! While she had a boyfriend, period!

The mortification was followed up by shame, because Luke would know now. He’d figure she’d just been playing around, or something. Did she owe him an explanation? She didn’t actually know him. For her own sanity, she’d scratch their interaction up to something amicable. Nothing more.

Julie tried to relax. “Hey.”

“I thought you went to the bathroom.”

“I did,” she lied, “and then I grabbed a drink.”

That reassured him. He nodded at Luke, a vague ‘dude’-acknowledgement, and exclaimed: “C’mon! I’m about to tell the guys the story about the time I wakeboarded with the dolphins!”

It wasn’t as impressive as it sounded, she thought, chagrined, but instead told him she’d finish her drink and join him in a second. He disappeared from view and Julie, ready to crawl under the covers and not show her face for a month, shot Luke a placating smile. A grimace, really.

“Um… maybe another time. Okay?”

“Okay,” he frowned, a conflicted gaze flickering between her and where Nick stood, and she wished she could explain the unexplainable. “See you later, maybe.”

“Yeah.”

He patted her shoulder — his hand warm and comfortable against her periwinkle shirt — and swivelled around, that bounce in his step as he slalomed his way between the throngs of people to the sliding doors that led to the garden. He looked back once, peeking over his shoulder, but shot down his gaze when he caught hers. Julie sighed.

Seventeen, what a fucking time to be alive.

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@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @thedeathdeelers @alexisclarerose @pink-flame @unsaid-emily

#WHAT WAS I ONNNNN #i used to write so well #this is great #i love going through my own archive #srb

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sunjaesol · 2 days

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“when there is goodness, there is magic”

cinderella (2015) juke au | drabble

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Julietta Molina’s existence was one of uncertainty.

As a young girl, she lived in the whimsy of a perfect childhood with her loving and doting parents, only laughter-filled days and dances across the parquet on the agenda. The estate in which she grew was filled with flowers, farm animals, and kind servants that she regarded as family.

But then her mother died at Julie’s tender age of ten. Her father Raymond remarried with Lady Covington and took in her daughters, Carrie and Kayla, as well. They never quite got along, but Julie held her head high; for her father, but especially for her mother whom she believed to be guarding her from any ill fate.

If only her father hadn’t gone on another business trip. He was a merchant and the silk trade was important to facilitate all the lavish parties Lady Covington hosted, but in exchange for his life?

Overcome by grief, Lady Covington pushed Julietta to focus on her shores and work all day, pushing herself to her limits with cooking and cleaning and tending to her sisters; helping them in and out of their dresses, rushing whenever they rang the bell. Most of the staff had left after her father’s death, but a few, ones that still cared for Julietta and wanted her safe, stayed.

Slowly, Julietta began to forget her past life. Slowly, the young woman began to doubt her own memories; if she ever knew something different than cinders on her skin and mud under her nails.

Courage and kindness ran through her very being, but every day, it became harder to remember that. Every day, the urge to flee and never return grew stronger. If she did, however, her parents’ estate would remain in the hands of the evil Tremaine, and she couldn’t bear the idea of that.

And so, Julietta stayed.

Her only form of escape? Galloping across the woods and meadows that stretched across the kingdom.

It started as any other afternoon. Harsh words from Carrie had tears well in her eyes that she ran outside the moment she could. Her long dark curls danced in the wind as her horse, Alma, carried her past whizzing landscapes.

Just as she entered the woods, she heard the fast clopping of hooves and excited shouts. A group of men on horseback rode by in a clearing not too far away. Julietta slowed down, unsure whether to continue, when suddenly a frightened stag crashed through the thick foliage.

“Whoa!” she yelled, tightening her grip on her horse’s mane as she tried calming down the stag.

The skittish animal fought against its instincts to flee again, seeking balance. It breezed and stared at her, fearful.

The group of men. It all clicked for Julietta. They were hunting the stag! And they were nearby, too! If the stag meandered, they’d find and kill him!

Julietta swallowed down the nausea and urged, “They’ll catch you. Go! Run as fast as you can!”

The stag needn’t be told twice. In a flash, he raced deeper into the woods. She grinned in relief and pressed her heels into Alma, propelling her forward to follow the stag and ensure its safety. For the first time in forever, excitement and hope bubbled in her throat, buzzed in her chest, a streak of adventure coursing through her bloodstream as she chased after the proud creature.

The men came nearer, the shouts louder. A man called out for her, but the previous fear of being seen had disappeared. She ignored him and kept her pace, hoping that her presence would distract them enough to let the stag hide within the woods.

“Miss!” one shouted. “Miss!”

From her peripheral vision, she saw a man departed from the group and going straight towards her. Nerves shot down her spine. Suddenly, she remembered she was an unchaperoned maiden wearing a dusty purple dress and no money on her person — what if he hurt her? How could she protect herself?

“Miss!” he called once more, now grabbing a hold of Alma’s mane and slowing her down. Julietta refused looking at him, keeping her eyes ahead. “Miss! Are you alright, miss?”

She? He was asking if she was alright?! Whipping her head to the right, anger washed over her. Pushing his hand off Alma, she spewed: “Me?! How dare you hunt the poor stag! What has he even done to you?!” The defiant yet dignified tone tasted foreign on her tongue, but she liked it. Head held high, she circled the man. His black stallion bristled, though stayed calm as her white speckled mare surrounded them.

He stared at her, stunned, blue eyes clear like the lilies blooming outside her attic window, with large and sinewy hands gripping the reins with a confidence she quietly admired — had she not been enraged by the current hunt, she would ask if he were a professional equestrian. Brown locks were held back by a black piece of cloth, his white cotton shirt wrinkled from wear, his fingers stacked with gold rings from exotic places. Looking like a fine picture book pirate jumping into reality, Julietta didn’t quite know what stance to take with him.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he eventually said, lowering his chin. His voice was airy and smooth. A careful smile crept up his lips. “It has done nothing to me.”

“Will you let him alone then?” she asked, unrelenting.

Her horse slowed down, parallel to the man. Standing still, the maiden noticed the boyish features beneath the bravado. He was younger than she thought, perhaps even around her age. Was he a traveller? An apprentice? Or did she regard him too highly and did barbarism stain his history instead?

His head titled, curious. “Why would I? It is what’s done.”

Julie huffed. “If we all did ‘what is done’, nothing would ever change. Have you never defied expectations, sir?”

He blinked. “I– yes. And I suppose that’s true. I–I’m Luke.”

“What?”

“I go by Luke,” he repeated. Luke. What an odd name. Surely, it was a nickname. Curiosity crossed his features, leaning towards her. “And may I know your name, miss?”

Her gaze averted, hiding her profile with whisps of curls as she focused on the lush foliage. That cursed name of hers; one marred by her horrible guardians. If she didn’t return soon, they must wonder where she escaped to and bar her from ever riding the horses again — her only reprieve. She couldn’t let that happen, nor did this man need to know whatever they called her.

Something melancholic must’ve shown, as when she said, “My name is of no importance to you,” his eyes narrowed instantly, seeing right through her. Julietta didn’t owe him an explanation though.

Another voice called out. “Lukas! Your highn—!”

The two looked out into the clearing to see a man of the troupe appear. He wore a red jacket with many embellishments, clearly of high standing. It crossed Julietta’s mind these must be the royal huntsmen of the kingdom. She’d never met one before.

Luke cut off the man before he could continue, gritting: “Luke! My name is Luke! Yes, captain?!”

The captain slowed down, the horse’s head nodding left to right as though restless, and his eyes flitted from Luke to her, contemplative. “Luke… the stag is getting away. What is your plan?”

“I implore you to let him go, mister Luke,” Julietta begged. “Please. Don’t we all deserve another chance?”

Mister Luke hesitated, mouth opening and closing for the right words. The huntsmen lingered by, watching from the clearing as he debated her words. If the captain asked him for the next step, what did that make him? Just as she tried puzzling it together, he let out a breath — his handsome face relaxing into something devastatingly beautiful as he locked eyes with her, like the first ray of light at dawn — and uttered: “I… alright. You have my word.”

A brilliant smile bloomed on her cheeks. “Wonderful. Then I’ll be on my way.” Alma’s hooves tapped against the soft ground, ready for a trot. “Thank you.”

“Wait!” He moved closer. “When will I see you again, miss?”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever shown interest in her like that before. Hardly anyone knew she existed. “I don’t know,” she carefully said, nodding ahead. “These woods go on forever.”

He chuckled. “Then I’ll wish for our paths to cross again.”

Whatever overcame her in that moment, Julietta couldn’t tell, but it possessed her to say: “And I do, too.” Her heart pitter-pattered at the sight of his broad grin; joy because of her words. With a blush rising, she knew she had to go. “Goodbye, mister Luke.”

“Goodbye, miss.”

#i ate with this one #srb

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