#i finally found a style within my writing style for short sentences

[joeys-piano]

Nothing beats the feeling of squishing a 223 worded summary into AO3's summary box character limit, and getting the vibes just right for your fic.

Text for summary below:

The 104th ceremony went on without a hitch.

The principal did his part. Then the faculty, one by one. The student leaders. A comedian—he wasn’t funny, but people laughed. And Sasaki couldn’t tell you if he laughed the hardest of them all, or if he was laughing out of sympathy. Or as an atheist at the altar. Caught in service, and all that, and the chapel is a gym and the twenty pews on either side were rows of metal numbing asses. While sitting here, laughing. Clapping loudly where he needs to. Listening, or so he looked. Knew exactly where to nod. And where to stand. When to shout. Counted the molars in his mouth, staring upwards to the ceiling.

Because he had to (that was all).

Between the speeches. Celebration. The rites. Traditions. The yawn-inducing, nap-producing twenty seconds in applause. But not for the end of it, at least for now. The ceremony had a song at ten-thirty on the spot, and there were still people with a lot to say. So he counts on—he continues—and ignores the clock face looming down like a lion in the face of a liar as Sasaki prattles on. And counts the moment all of this is over, whether he’s decided if it’s all his fault. Or if somehow it doesn’t matter with everyone behind his back.

[alby-rei]

[Arthur Week, Day 3] Midnight Snacks

a/n: in which MC (ft. accomplice Dazai) wants to make the resident flirt, Arthur Conan Doyle, jealous. Why? Who knows! But what I do know is that it ends up working in his favor rather than MC’s... wait, what?

a/n 2: changed the title cuz it was bothering me xD nothing else changed.

My entry for @scummy-writes​‘s Arthur Week! 

Day 3: Coffee and Fudge || Writer’s Block

[Pairing]: Arthur x You/gn!MC, (pre-relationship)

[Characters]: You, Arthur, Dazai, Sebastian

[Word count]: ~2300 words

[Rating]: T

[POV]: 2nd Person 

“...and all of a sudden, I hear Mozart yell ‘stop releasing chickens in my music room!’ but Dazai didn’t even flinch!” You brought a foam-covered hand up to your mouth to cover your laughter.

You and Sebastian were cleaning the dishes together after lunch time. You’ve made it a habit to catch up on your day and share observations with Sebas, as pretty much no one steps into the kitchen around this time.

Well, that is except—

“_____~!”

Except Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, naturally. He must’ve finished his writing session and been wandering around the mansion, as is his trademark since your arrival.

You closed your eyes, hoping the man would walk past the kitchen without checking. You weren’t exactly in the mood for flirty games with the mystery writer, especially not after dealing with a haughty music teacher in Mozart. Sadly, luck was not on your side, today.

“I’ll tell you the rest later,” you wipe your hands with a towel. Picking up the tray of plates and cups to put them in their rightful places, you didn’t pay the writer any mind.

“After this I gotta find Dazai,” you said as you opened a cupboard. Your turned around to find Arthur leaning on the door frame, and your tone shifted dramatically, “Oh! Arthur, funny to see you here.”

Sebastian knew that tone very well. It was your sickeningly sweet voice that you dedicated to either (a) dodging conversation, or (b) planning something against that person.

“I’d say the same to you, ___, but you’re always in the kitchen. I couldn’t help dropping in to check on my favorite bird,” Arthur leaned against the door frame, flashing you a grin and a wink.

“Oh please, don’t talk about birds after what happened this morning,”  You caught sight of your target at the end of the hallway, “aaaand I have to go, see ya!” 

You duck under Arthur’s arm while his guard was down. He twirled around to follow you, but you evaded him, calling out to Dazai. Arthur stood in his tracks, as he watched the japanese author stop for you, and you beamed up at him.

“Dazai-san, I’ve been wanting to ask you for something, if you’re… free,” you noticed mid-sentence that the chicken that was still nestled in his arms.

“Hm?” His piercing yellow eyes brightened, “I’ll always have time for you, Toshiko-san.”

“Bawk!” The chicken… agreed, supposedly.

You laughed sheepishly, “That’s very sweet of you, I was actually interested in learning about your writing style and get some advice. I’ve been going through some terrible writer’s block.”

“I was working on a short story earlier, it’s in my room. Want to come with me?” He began to lead her towards his room.      

“I’m honored! I’d love to, Dazai-san.”

Oh yes, you were definitely planning something, Sebastian noted.

As the two of them walked away, Arthur stood glued watching the scene. Sebastian had been poking his arm the whole time, but he didn’t budge. Even shaking his entire arm didn’t spur any sudden movement from him.

“Sir Arthur. Earth to Sir Arthur,” Sebas continued tapping his shoulder and pinching his arm.

“Huh? Oh…” His gaze held an odd expression, one that Sebastian hadn’t seen from him before—a hint of sadness, maybe even frustration. But it was quickly replaced by his signature grin as he finally took notice of me, “Sorry, Sebas, I must’ve been blocking your path, got to go!”

And just like that, he scurried off.

After a moment’s pause, and after making sure the hallway was clear of esteemed residents, Sebastian did much the same, but in the opposite direction. He has notes to take, pronto. 

~*~

You and Dazai sat in the lounge room, having passed by his room, and Dazai collected his writing material.

“You have really pretty hands, Toshiko-san. I’ve heard you playing in Mo-kun’s piano room, you’re a wonderful pianist,” Dazai held your hand delicately in his, as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you, it’s something I take a lot of pride in,” your heart swelled from the warmth of his compliment, “but I’ve been much more interested with writing as of late. Actually, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

“Oh? I admire your ambition. How can I help?”      

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A third voice chimed in.

Right on time, as you expected.

“Have I interrupted your little rendezvous?” Arthur walked slowly and purposefully, as if he had caught them red-handed doing something they shouldn’t.

Internally, he was trying his best not to jump to conclusions. That would be uncharacteristic of him, after all. You weren’t tied to him in anyway, so there was no reason to feel so jealous that you went to Dazai for writing help instead of him. He didn’t even know about it!

So why was his heart pounding so loudly in his head while his eyes were fixated on their linked hands?

Dazai withdrew his hand, occupying it with his writing pen instead. He shot Arthur a smile with closed eyes.

“Of course not, we were just talking, Arty.”

“…Don’t call me that,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “and second, I’d like to steal ____ now.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but I want to talk with Dazai a bit to improve my writing.”

Being shot down so directly caught Arthur off-guard; his insecurities getting a hold of him. For the first time, he found himself at a loss for ways to turn the conversation in his favor. At the moment, if he persisted, and you kept turning him down, he wouldn’t be able to let it down for the rest of the day.

Instead, Arthur straightened himself, fixing his tie, “Well then, I’m heading to the pub soon enough to find me a pretty skirt for the evening. Have fun, you two, I know I will.”

He huffed childishly, going out with a wave. Dazai turned to you with a polite smile.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Oh, he is definitely salty, thanks for agreeing to this, Dazai-san.”

“Any time, Yoshie-san, what are housemates for?” He smiled fondly at you.

“You’re a great actor, didn’t even flinch!”

“Ah, but who said I was acting?”

He got up with his writing tools and stepped out of the lounge before you registered what he said.

“Wait… what?!”

~*~

Later that evening…

…Well, more like around midnight, you just happened to catch the insomnia bug and were heading to the kitchen, as all people naturally do when they’re insomniac. You switched on the lights, thankful for the dimness of the lanterns in the kitchen. Scanning your options, your eyes settled on the coffee pot that sat quietly in the corner. Thoughts of a certain mystery writer gnawed at you, but you darted them away and walked past the coffee pot to get a glass of water instead. You leaned forward, filling her glass with bleary eyes that refused to slumber but also refused to open properly.  

Suddenly, you felt a touch to your backside. Eyes cracking wide open, you spun around and swung your makeshift weapon of glass at your offender. The offending mop of ash blue hair felt the full force of the blow, and the glass shattered across the floor.

Well crap.

“Ow… If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you were trying to kill me there, ____.”

For the love—.

“Arthur what the hell were you trying to pull?! Bloody hell! You made my heart drop.”

In a flash, his body was pressed against yours, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. The crunch of the glass under his shoes was the only sound in the room. You saw a small stream of blood start to fall by his ear.

“I was going to prepare myself a midnight snack with my coffee, but it seems I already found one ready for a taste test,” he licked the back of his fangs.

“At this hour??” It was well past midnight by now, and caffeine was the last thing you’d recommend anyone at this time. 

You felt his breath on your ear before he inhaled your scent. It was comforting to him as much as it was intoxicating to his senses.

He sighed, “____… I can’t get you out of my mind, no matter what I do.”

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you away from the countertop and flush against him, instead. All sorts of alarms were going off in your mind despite the drowsiness, with your instincts telling you to push him off.

“But then, you started avoiding me. And then… Sebastian and Mozart and even Dazai took you away from me,” he sniffled.

You pushed him off gently but still within his arms, as you stared at his face. There was a pink dust across his cheeks and a redness in the corners of his eyes.

“Arthur, are you… drunk?”

His frown flipped into a grin as he nuzzled his nose into your disheveled hair.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I may have been out drinking, but I can bloody well hold my liquor. Theo can vouch for me on that.”

(a/n: no, he can’t lmao)

The sight of him in a somewhat vulnerable state, as well as the smell of his cologne, made it hard for you to properly fight him. Plus, you felt bad for crushing a glass cup on his head. Speaking of which…

“Is your head okay?”

“Hm…” He brought a gloved hand to his forehead, feeling a dull pounding in its wake, “I must say, you got me good, even the most daring fools never landed a hit on me yet.”

Just how thick is his skull to endure that?! You were both dazzled and frightened by their realization. 

With one of his arms off of you, you took this chance to escape, but you slid on a shard of glass and would have fallen face first onto the floor had Arthur not pulled you against him and taken the impact of the floor to his own shoulder. He laid on his back, clutching you protectively against his chest. He groaned with pain, but he pushed it aside to check on you first.

“Clumsy tonight, are we, or are you seriously trying to kill me?” He chuckled wryly.

Before you could even blink, you felt your vision do a 180-flip, and you were suddenly beneath him, away from the glass shards that littered the floor. The scent of his cologne flooded your senses again, as he smirked down on you with a drunken lopsided grin.

“I was absolutely livid when I saw Dazai hold your hand. Was that part of your plan, darling? Well, I’ve taken the bait.”

You flinched, your body wide awake to every touch and caress of this man. You bit your lip to avoid playing into his hands. You were still in control of the situation, you thought. His lips descended to your jaw, barely brushing your skin, like he’s testing your limits. Instinctively, you sighed, unaware of the breath you’d been holding.

Ok, maybe you weren’t entirely in control, either.

“Arthur…” You commanded, trying to regain some semblance of control back.

This was not part of your plan, however, and you were quickly losing grip of all reason and logic. You needed to get him off and away from you before you acquiesced to his ministrations.

“But don’t worry, ____. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

He drew back from you, staring down at you with an uncharacteristic tender look. He continued.

“The effect you have on me is not one I’ve felt with any woman I’ve ever encountered before. It’s confusing—maddening, even— and I can’t escape it… because I don’t want to,” he sighed in surrender, “I want you, ___.” 

It was a look of pure love and affection that shone in his eyes. His half-opened shirt invited your gaze to roam his body, and his thick-rimmed glasses framed his features in such an alluring glow that outshone the dimness of the kitchen. His hair looked softer than usual, too. Your hand twitched at the thought of running your fingers through those ash blue locks. Your mind was thrown into a whirlwind with the influx of new information, one that dented your rationality. Your desire to get closer to him wrestled against your impartial stoicism, threatening to crack the armor around the stone gates to your heart.

“Hey Arthur,” you started, twirling a lock of his hair with your hand. It was ever-so-slightly damp; he must’ve bathed in le thermae earlier.

“Yes, ____?”

Damn that seductive voice of his, you shooed away that thought as soon as it entered. You chose to focus on something much more pressing at the moment. 

“We need to get you bandaged up. You’re bleeding terribly from your head.”

~*~

It took a lot of convincing, but Arthur finally acquiesced to your persistent request.

“There, all done,” you stepped back from Arthur, who was sitting hunched over on his bed.

You were both settled in his room with his medical bag open on the desk and his equipment strewn all around. You didn’t exactly know what to do to treat Arthur’s wound, but you insisted on doing it for him… with copious amounts of instructions from him.

“I brought you some fresh coffee and fudge, as an apology.”

“At this hour?” He mimicked your tone from earlier. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“And here I am trying to make it up to you, and this is how you show gratitude?”

You huffed indignantly, ready to head out and leave the unappreciative writer to his own devices.

“Hold on, now,” he gripped your wrist before you could fully turn away, “you’re the one who smashed glass on my head, so you owe me a favor.”

“…a favor on top of tending to your wounds and bringing you coffee?”

“Oh, indulge me, won’t you? You did those of your own volition.”

You sigh, “Depends on the request, then.”

“Feed me,” he perked up with no hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.

You wanted to turn him down, to tease him about his child-like excitement, but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes. Those eyes held a very powerful hold over you though you blame it on your own tiredness outweighing your better judgment.

“Alright…” You moved aside his things to sit next to him, leaning towards the table to drag the tray closer to yourself.

“Open wide, you incorrigible baby.”

[socketz]

Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

Indulge Me.

Type : Fluff! (with a wee bit of Angst thrown in there)

Warnings : Internal conflict, swearing, kissing (pretty detailed, though nothing overly sexual), a little alcohol consumption I suppose, and that’s all. It’s super fluffy! 

Word Count : 6.3k (kinda short, I know :/ my bad) 

Request : Not Requested.

Summary : Johnny x Female!Reader, where they have been close friends for a super long time, and the reader (you!) has slowly developed feelings for him. A confession, a walk, and a sweet, slow, kiss, in the rain. 

Authors Note : I don’t know why I got the urge to do this, but I started writing and simply did not stop, so here we are. I thought it turned out quite cute, although it is very cliche :) Also, Johnny is not famous in this, though it’s set in like ‘91, or ‘90. He’s just a really sexy regular guy, I suppose. That’s all :) Enjoy!

Indulge Me, Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

There was truly something about him - about Johnny - that you simply could not place. The two of you had been friends, strictly friends, for almost too long to remember, and it seemed that with every passing moment either of your spent, swaddled in each other’s company, that relationship merely grew. It manifested, and developed, so incredibly, yet entirely unnoticed, by both Johnny, and yourself. It was incredible, really, that such a friendship could hinder quite so rapidly, and seemingly only for one participant. 

You didn’t mean to begin noticing the little things, the details, about him. Like the way he smiled, so incredibly gentle and uplifting - contagious, you could argue - or the way he would change, so naturally, when around you, in comparison to that of everybody else. His laugh would grow louder, freer, and his voice would amplify; no longer riddled with nerves and a sense of timidness. Comfort, you supposed, was a factor he allowed himself to become engulfed by, whenever you were present, and you certainly liked it. You began noticing the way he would touch you, tender, and cautious, or the way he held your hand - merely due to instinct, he would always blame, though your butterflies wished it something else - and the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, when you complained for the cool breeze, never once bothered by your close proximity. You noticed the way his eyes could light up, and he would smile something small; ridden with joy, for no particular reason at all. You noticed that his hair was longer, now, and that it fell to a messy central parting, digits consistently brushing it from his gaze - you liked the way he styled his hair, you decided, and it was so soft - so tender. You began to notice the way he treated you, so polite, yet bitterly brutal when his jokes played themselves around. You noticed things that you probably shouldn’t have, and, well, such an inconvenience caused a severe disruption to your whole mechanism. 

At first, you thought it to be an illness of some sort. The stomach churns - the best kind, as you later discovered - and the butterflies, the tingle between your thighs. Am I sick? You began to think, as you checked yourself for a temperature. Alas, there was nothing but a flush of embarrassment to your reddened cheeks, and a heavy sensation within your chest, as you supposed that it would all disburse within a matter of days. 

Well, a couple of days came, and went, and things had only gotten worse. 

You began to dream of him, and, admittedly, you enjoyed them - of course you did - but it only made your face-to-face discussions an almighty difficult task to partake in. The butterflies ascended into a trail of breathtaking tingles, ignited by the slightest touch, and a sense of fire ruptured within your throat - it was so difficult to say the things you wanted to say, when your infatuation threatened to spill from your tongue at any given moment, and his beautifully chocolate gaze held you so captivated, so numbingly, to your place. He rendered you silent, your mind falling blank, with a simple smile, or a glance. Pathetic! That’s what you’d call it. Utterly pathetic. And, realistically, you knew it would only grow worse, the longer you decided to repress such information from your closest companion - and apparent lover, in your emotions’ eyes - but you simply couldn’t find it in you, not at all, to utter such simple words.  

They could do so much damage - undo so many memories! And ruin everything. Maybe you were simply paranoid - maybe you were driven by utmost fear - but romance seemed so terribly painful, and you weren’t entirely sure if you could handle the way it would end. After all, everything good must come to something bad, right? Perhaps it was just the way your childhood played out, between lies and heartbreak, separation and loneliness, and fear and rejection - or maybe you were right. Maybe everything people were taught, all that they would read, about love, and about fictional infatuation, was just that - fiction. Maybe true love didn’t exist, and the books had it all wrong. Though that would not explain the thin sheen of sweat, glistening something noticeable upon your forehead. 

You were nervous, to say the least.  

The seven o’clock News displayed upon your television, igniting the darkened room in an expanding, blue, illumination, and you nibbled your nails somewhat anxiously, thoughts engulfing the surrounding buzz of the visual journalism - not that you ever paid it any mind, anyway. You always found the News boring - they reported nothing but shit, and you made sure to voice such an opinion, whenever Johnny would force you to watch it. “It’s educational!” He would laugh, gripping onto your hips and forcing you upon his lap. Of course, it was only something playful, and his arms would snake around your waist, chin against your shoulder. It was comfortable, you could never deny, but the News was still ever-boring and droning. 

Though, now, it seemed appropriate. You were far too nervous to concentrate on anything in particular, like a gameshow, or something of the sort. Even the soccer seemed far too involving for you. 

After all, today was the day you finally relieved yourself of such a weighty secret. You could hardly contain yourself any longer, and you were growing tired of the worried glances Johnny would throw your way, when you flinched from his burning touch, or paused mid-sentence, struggling to find your gasped breath. God, it was all so embarrassing. You hoped sincerely that it wouldn’t render something awkward, or differentiate your friendship, in any which way, but you were certain it was all one sided, and just wouldn’t be the same after. Perhaps he already knew, and was attempting to ignore such a thing, as best he could, and for that, you practically worshiped his ability to handle difficult situations lightheartedly. Or maybe he was as entirely clueless as he seemed to be, and it would be as awkward as you could picture the whole ordeal going. 

Either way, you needed to say something, before it accidentally slipped within a regular conversation, and ruined everything. You attempted to reason with yourself, that if things truly did turn bitterly awful, at least tonight there would be pizza and wine, to salvage your mortification, and- 

The soft jingle of metal echoed, distant, yet alarming, throughout the quiet and dim apartment. Scuttling, your hands grasped the remote control, muting the television in a rapid and almost panicked manner, breathing laboured and uneven. You weren’t ready - you definitely weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this - tell him how you felt, that is. How the hell would you even go about it? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just bring up- 

“They didn’t have any of that wine you like.” He sighed. You froze, rigid in your seat. “I got somethin’ else,” He trailed, “Doesn’t have a brand, I don’t think.” Two rustling bags settled in place before you, his keys landed with a loud crash upon the glass surface, jacket shrugged upon the ground with a sudden waft of cool breeze. Johnny glanced toward you, as he slumped hastily upon the sofa, booted feet kicked out before him. “What’s up?” He mumbled, his eyes fluttered to a gentle close, eyebrows furrowed gently. 

“Nothing.” You said. How great of a lie it surely was, though you refused to blurt your confession aloud just yet. 

An eyebrow raised, doubtful for your unconvincing reply, as a gentle grin teetered to the corner of his lips, and, oh, didn’t he look pretty. “C’mon,” He teased, “What’s up with you?” A finger jabbed to your side - an extraordinarily ticklish disposition for yourself - and you squirmed instinctively, a certain warmth engulfing your chest at the familiarity of that supple smirk. 

“Really,” You persisted, “It’s nothing.” A breathy chuckle falling from upon your quiet tongue. “Have you tried that wine before?” You could confess your adoration for the poor man amidst the meal, though for now, it could wait. 

“Uh-” He frowned, the quiver of a smile to trace his gaze.“No.” He said. 

A subtle laugh dripped from your throat, gently shaking your head, as you mumbled a witty response. “Am I surprised, Jonathan?” To which he scoffed, his gorgeously depthful eyes rolling, and shone you a wickedly charming smile. 

“Guess not.” He muttered, a beat of comfortable quiet to drift you both by. “You’re watching the News?” He then added, a furrow to draw his eyebrows closer; glance fluttered between yourself and the blare of the silenced television, projecting utter bullshit as it went - ever-the-regular, you could argue. 

You simply nodded, “I am.” You said, somewhat a grin to upturn the crevices of your expression. A soft round of laughter fell from the man beside you, and you found your breath stuttered within the depth of your throat. It was an angelic muse, really, and thus you found yourself unable to conjure a furtherly coherent - never mind advanced - response, the simple two words proving enough for his bemused self. 

“But you fucking hate the News.” He scoffed. “Why the hell are you watching it?” 

A subtle giggle left your throat, and you snatched the lip of the bag before you, eager to indulge within the gorgeously scented - and warm - food. “Shut up, Johnny.” You said, a gentle smile to follow, “What’d you get?” 

“I don’t know.” He smirked, “Somethin’ meaty, I think.” 

“Of course,” You sighed, unable - quite - to dislodge the grin upon your rosy cheeks. “I mean, why would you know the pizza you ordered, right?” 

“Precisely.” He smiled, “I’m thrilled you understand.”

“Always a pleasure.” You simply said, for your mind had distilled something blank, useless, and your words had seemed to fail you. The sofa was old, it was desperate, clinging on to the stitching hardly reliable, but it was comfortable. It was familiar.  Johnny, and yourself, had refused to refurbish it - those cushions had been with you both, from the very first night. Roommates, you were. And simply the best kind. But there truly was something so tragic about a romantically tinted friendship, no matter for whom the sufferer seemed to be. 

Johnny latched upon the large pizza box, throwing it open, and - unsurprisingly - knocking the wine glasses with a greatly shrill ring, their clink a subtle jump. They wobbled, slowly, though regained their posture, and you found your shoulders slumping to a tender slouch. “Idiot.” You muttered, a certain fondness about your breath, as he merely smirked, and picked up a stringy-cheesed slice, mauling the triangular corner with not but an ounce of grace. 

A shimmer of grease coaxed the pout of his peachy lips, cheeks bulged with bread, and with toppings; over-loaded and particularly Johnny. Meats of various kinds - various shades - littered upon the excessive amounts of cheese. “Did you order extra cheese?” You mumbled. The man nodded, a wolfish grin to reciprocate his childish gaze, and you merely breathed a subtle chuckle. Of course, you thought; of course he did. 

You reached for the wine, popping the cork with a slight groan, and you poured a tester within the clear glaze of the bowled glass. You raised the edge to your mouth, took a sip, and smacked your lips. “Not bad.” You uttered, decidedly enjoying the rich tang of fruity combustion, flat and coiling, upon your tongue. You poured the glass full, hardly a centimeter from the brim, and you took a rather large gulp, quite liking the flavour, as it trickled upon the back of your throat, and you sat back, nestled within the comfortable cushions of the wondrously aged sofa. It was almost moulded to your body; for you always sat on the right, and Johnny, the left. 

A comfortable silence embraced you both, and you found yourself almost wishing it could remain undisturbed - you couldn’t find it in you, no matter how hard you probed, to conjure any kind of courage at all. Your knees, they felt weak, and your stomach churned uneasily - entirely disagreeing with the digested mouthful, as you rammed the corner of a pizza slice within your mouth, and you chewed slowly, cheeks beginning to rise in temperature. How the fuck would you even go about it all? ‘Oh, by the way, Johnny, I’m entirely in love with you, and I lose myself every time we touch!’ It sounded ridiculous. There was no possible way you could simply blurt out such a destructive sentence. You weren’t even sure if your feelings were real! They had just bothered you, and you feared that they’d somehow escape the breach of your lips, and flutter around, utterly unnoticed. Goodness, it was terrifying. 

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we gonna sit here in silence?” Johnny said, a light amusement to simmer upon his tone. You gulped, swallowing a particularly dry mouthful, and your muscles seized up. 

Surely this was the perfect opportunity, no? “Well…” You trailed. You did not want to ruin everything you’d worked so effortlessly to build with each other. Maybe you were just being silly, and your feelings were hardly potent at all. Maybe it was all dramatic, and you were fine. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and the entire thing was meaningless, and- “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck! Your eyes clamped shut, and you loathed the white noise. You could hope that he hadn’t heard you, though he wasn’t chewing, anymore, and he seemed suddenly rigid beside you. That was certainly a way to go about it, you scolded, wishing - with a burning detestation - that the sofa would swallow you whole. 

Say something, you begged, silent, and to yourself, as the quiet continued on. He shifted, and you froze - furtherly, if apparently possible. You daren’t share a glance with his gaze, fixated upon your burning mortification, as another gentle bite snuck between your lips. You chewed, and you chewed, a soft shimmer of sweat beginning to accumulate upon your brow - how foolish you had been, to admit such a thing, in that kind of way. “What was that?” He muttered. Shit! His throat was tight, you could hear the subtle restriction, and tone low, quiet. Don’t make me say it again, you thought, a volumed gulp to follow such a ponderous moment. Please, don’t make me say it again. 

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. Goodness, was it always supposed to be quite so difficult? Something began to wedge within the base of your throat, aching substantially, as the rising sensation of freshly salted tears began its ascent. Were you really going to cry? “I didn’t-” The voice caught in your throat, hindered by that ever-growing lump. God, you really hated this. “I didn’t mean to.” You didn’t mean to ruin your friendship, and everything in between, for a stupid confession that held you to the brink of fucking tears. 

More shuffling was to be heard, and you noticed his hands swiftly maneuvering the - now closed - pizza box, delicately dropping the white board upon the coffee table, no longer perched between you, and him. His gaze burned upon your expression, and your cheeks flamed scarlet, glare locked unwaveringly upon the television, slightly glazed with something fearful. You truly didn’t want to lose him - to have him laugh in the face of your affection, and turn you away. And although you knew the let down would be gentle  - it was Johnny, afterall, and there was hardly a bad bone in his body - you anticipated the worst. “Y/N,” He said.You gulped. A sigh escaped his lips, and he maneuvered the pizza slice from within your subtle grip, sneaking a quick bite as he went, and placed it quietly upon the table. “Y/N.” He tried again. You turned to face him, hesitant in yourself. His expression was gentle, the comforting kind of soft, and the corner of his lips lightly fluttered to the ghost of a smirk. “What are you crying for?” He scoffed, the grin simply growing as he spoke. “Don’t cry, Love.” You had hardly noticed the slip of a few salty confessions, as a soft laugh fell from your lips, hands roughly ragging upon the moist complexion. Pathetic, you thought, you were so fucking pathetic. “Come ‘ere.” He said. Your eyebrows drew together, glance unsure and lightly confused. He was so calm, and seemingly unphased by your confession - you couldn’t quite understand it. 

He rolled his eyes, the tilt of amusement to pepper his cheeks, and he grasped your upper arm, dragging you along the short distance of the sofa. You slumped into his side, another giggle trickling from your tear-tangled throat, his arm engulfing you in a tight embrace; one along your shoulder, and the other curled upon your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat subtle and calming, and he shuffled about, gradually withholding a lying position, yourself flatly placed along his front. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, a light sigh to accompany the apology. You meant it, really, you did. It was never truly your intention to adapt to such feelings, to succumb to your attraction - he just made it so fucking difficult, with those beautifully brown orbs, and a smile filled with the brightest kinds of sunshine. 

“Please don’t apologise.” He said. A short silence followed, and - perhaps it was simply an imaginational malfunction - you thought the rhythm of his heart rate differentiated, though only for a fleeting moment. “Did you mean it?” He whispered, tone soft; hesitant. 

A gentle frown caressed the bow of your expression, and you tilted such to face him, his features crossed handsomely with a sense of slight worry. Of course you had meant it - why on earth would you lie for such a thing? “Yeah.” You said. His gaze flickered between your eyes, a whir of doubt embracing the warm stare, and his tender wrap upon your frame squeezed for a passing moment. The hint of a smile glazed his orbs, a certain light suddenly rupturing within their mocha tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched a feathered smirk. 

“Oh, yeah?” He said. 

Your eyes rolled, seemingly still slightly dampened by your emotional concern. “Yes, Johnny.” You said. 

“Ah, right,” He muttered, grin widening to that of something toothy, and warm. “See, I thought I was going crazy.” He craned his neck to the slightest degree, gaze dropping momentarily to your parted lips, before springing back up, a twinkle of mischief to glaze his eyes. “I thought,” His tongue darted gently, dampening the flush of his lips, and you found yourself staring with a tingle of a blush - God. Your thighs began to ache, camped tightly together, at such a marvellous sight. “There’s no fucking way,” He continued, slowly, as his tone simmered to that of a tender whisper. “That the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, could fall in love with me.” 

Beautiful. Beautiful, he had said. Beautiful! He thought you were beautiful! Your heart stuttered, and a furrow found your eyebrows, consciously aware of the circular trail, lightly peppered upon your waist by his wandering fingers. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, a mere mumble beneath your gaze of adoration and concern. What was wrong with loving him? 

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, the simmer of amusement and amorous repentance dancing within his stare. “Well, why me?” He said, “You could choose anyone.” He shrugged, “Kenny, from that corner store. Andrew - you know, Andy, the one that makes the cakes all the time?” You merely nodded, albeit speechless as to his rambling. “And what about Louis? The flower guy?” You raised an eyebrow, “You could take any of ‘em. You got a choice. So why pick me?” Why wouldn’t it be him? Why would it be anybody else? You couldn’t quite understand his doubts, as you adjusted your positioning, and leaned up ever-so-slightly, with great attempt to level your shared beam. Surely he wasn’t feeling insecure, he had no reason to, after all - none that you had given him, that is. 

“Don’t start that.” You said, “I wouldn’t want anybody else.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, “And why’s that, Love?” He was teasing you, you could ensure, though you felt little resistance to fall within such bait. 

“I wouldn’t want anyone else, because,” He glanced feverishly to your mouth, and the words seemed to pause, caught briefly within your throat. His gaze returned to yours, his smirk filtrated with some kind of newfound arrogance, and, my, didn’t it look devilishly handsome on him. 

“Because what, Deary?” He said, a sudden dark swirl to his tone. It was rich, nauseatingly good. 

“Because I want you.” You said. “And I’ve always wanted you.”   

Though your fear found itself wretched, stammering doubts of rejection within your conscience, you supposed there was just no going back from that. And you didn’t truly believe you wanted to.  

A glimmer of something heartily mischievous eloped within his gaze, “In what way?” He humoured, a slow smile beginning to trace the very corners of his wondrously entrancing lips. You paused, a moment of silence, and wondered whether you could dare to be as graciously brave as your protruding thoughts were  starting to grow. 

Your tone fell to something quiet - low. “In any way you’ll let me.” You said. And, oh, it had you aching, the way those delectably beautiful eyes darkened, and a pepper of thickening quiet settled between the two of you.  

Johnny’s mouth opened, the breach of something verbal threatening to fall from the gasp, though nothing came out, and he closed it, instead. His breathing stammered, you dared to notice, and you felt almost ill, bereft with the simplicity of your want, your need, for his emotional acceptance. “I see.” He said, somewhat breathless, and entirely succumbed with - what you depicted, perhaps foolishly, to be - love. You felt something rise, flutter, within the depth of your digestion - almost drabbled with such pride, that you could affect him in any which way. A grin engulfed his expression, once more, and elated the darkness, clouding his chestnut orbs in a magnificent kind of way, as one hand crawled up from upon your waist, and clasped the curve of your blushed cheek. His calloused thumb traced a thing of gentle affection, stroking the soft complexion in a timid manner, and that flock of butterflies found themselves satisfied with their numbingly strong fluttering, crawling upon your skin in a matter of nerves and anxiousness. “Well,” He spoke, glancing adoringly between your eyes. From one to the other, as though he couldn’t quite believe you to be smitten within his hold, reciprocating his feelings so endlessly. The warmth of his adorning breath fanned the supple part of your gaped lips, expectant; waiting. “Best go put on your shoes, then, aye?” He whispered. 

And with that, he was gone. Hoisting you up, as he stumbled to his feet, and his expression elated a smile. He squeezed twice on your shoulders, humoured by such a frown, and he swooped down to collect his jacket from the floor. “Go on,” He said, “We’re off on a walk.” 

“We are?” You echoed, a slight distance woven within your tone. 

Johnny smiled, “We are, Love.” He said, and he barreled himself through the arms of his coat. 

You paused, be it only a moment, as gentle tufts of hair drifted upon his forehead, and he brushed them back, a toothy grin etched upon his face. He stretched up, an arch to his back, and muttered a; “Go on! It’s raining, you’ll get your feet wet if you don’t.” With a hustle, and a small shove to your shoulders. 

Frowning, you found your feet drifting you to the corner of the room - he’d gone mad. It was decided. Though, perhaps, you thought; you were just as crazy as he. For why else would you slip on your shoes, and throw on a jacket, hanging up on the wall hooks? Without another thought of hesitation, you shoved it all on, and you regained your full height, a little breathless - unfortunately so - and met the uneven smirk that was utterly Johnny’s.

He clapped his hands together, a soft connection, and rubbed them slightly, bounding to the door before you both, and swinging open the darkened oak. Neither you, nor he, bothered to dismantle the blaring illuminant that was the television, as he awaited the passing breeze of yourself. 

You wandered him by, mind a whir of incoherent thoughts, though one - one in particular - stood out, among the others. He hadn’t said it back. 

The weight of his arm, curled around the crease of your shoulders, brought you away from such a thought, and you had hardly noticed the few tender steps you had traced. “You smell nice.” Johnny said, a slight smile to his tone, “Fruity.” You merely grinned something small, and rolled your eyes. Ever the strange one. 

“You’re sure you haven’t had any of that wine before?” You jested, “On the way over, perhaps?” 

He smiled, something soft, as his free hand fumbled within his depthful pocket, and his gaze found his shoes. “The cheap stuff gives me indigestion.” He smirked, “Didn’t want the heartburn.”

“Ah,” You breathed, “I suppose that does make sense.” 

You approached the stairwell, poised to the end of the depressingly dim hallway, and watched as he bounced upon every step, no longer wedged beside you, but rather bounding upon the echoing chorus of the descending metal. His hair, naturally dried from a drizzle of cooling rain, flowed - up, and down - in a majestic kind of motion, as a subtle giggle fell from you, and your legs maneuvered a slight jog, to catch up with his waiting frame. 

He stood, slick with a grin, at the door, his arm a barricade upon its weight, as you muttered a curt thanks, and you stumbled into the waft of approaching crisp. The winter chill embraced your figure - a sudden movement, as it trailed from your toes, to your hips, to your finger-tips, and your nose - and you draped your hands within the depthful pockets of your dark coat. You shuddered - Heavens, was it freezing - and you clenched your jaw, spat with a sprinkle of dainted moisture, as the clouds shed their supple solemness. 

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Johnny muttered, striding to that of a similar pace, as his hands, too, found the inner comfort of his pockets, and his arm brushed with yours. You warmed at the touch, though not by much, and you simply assumed it was all in your head, dismissive for the sudden heat. “The night.” He continued. “There’s just something about it.” 

You turned, gaze fixated upon the gorgeous glow of his sculpted features, contorted with a content smile, orbs fluttered upon the scenery before you both, unmoving, and entirely comfortable. Happy, you dared to notice. And as were you. “I know what you mean.” You mumbled, a saddened grin to quiver upon the corners of your lips, though you simply couldn’t force it’s obtain, as it fell, and your eyes found the floor. He hadn’t said it back. 

“It’s like-” He paused, tongue winding upon his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed momentarily. “It’s like the whole world is asleep.” He smiled. “It’s not, but it feels less… Alive.” 

You breathed a gentle laugh. “Like it’s only you.” You mumbled, “Without the pressure, and the judgement.” There was a subtle nod, as he brushed the fallen hair from within his vision. 

“I know how to be myself, when the moon’s my only company, y’know?” He admitted, nibbling the tender flesh of his lower lip, as his gaze darted, between the street, to the tree, to the housing scattered around. “Like whatever happens, under the stars, it-” He paused, he let out a breathy chuckle, and continued: “It won’t matter in the morning.” You simply nodded, as he opened his mouth, a stuttered mumble falling from his tongue, and your silence remained, for you knew he was not quite finished. “I just- I-” He paused, another shaky exhale, and your eyebrows furrowed. He scratched the lower-crown of his hair, ruffling it, slightly, with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want-” He frowned, gulping, and continued: “I don’t want tonight to be one of those nights.” 

Your furrow seemed to deepen, the words falling before you found yourself able to grapple them. “What do you mean?” You mumbled, a gentle cloud upon the frozen nightlife. 

“Look, I think-” He sighed, pausing mid-step, and standing, amidst the weighted rain, as it grew heavier, and you simply grew wetter. You paused, expression contorted with a slight confusion, dribbled with copious droplets that you didn’t bother to brush away. “I think I could dote on the darkness, forever and a day.” He said, and you frowned. You wondered just quite where he was going with such, though failed to interrupt his continuance, as he spoke, soft, among the patterning rainfall, draping upon the concrete with a rhythmic dance. “But it’s not-” He caught himself, one more, as another nervous laugh trickled from his dampened lips. Verbal gold, it surely was. “None of it - it’s not- it’s not as, uh, captivating, as you.” 

Your chest fell woozy with a supple ache, furrow one of grave compassion, and he glanced, hesitantly, with a curt removal, to your expression. You smiled, a glaze of sorrow melting from upon those amorous features. Captivating. He thought you were captivating. “And I think you- uhm-” He coughed, a slight smile to catch the corner of his lips. “I think you taught me to love, again.” He mumbled, head-up tilted, as his warm, genuine, gaze, infiltrated your own. 

“Oh?” You grinned, truthfully unable to rupture the flutter of great tingles, encasing your shivering complexion - a certain warmth cursing throughout your frozen blood. 

He laughed, a glance of something shy to his shoes, and he nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled, returning to meet your joyous expression. “And I think I’d like to dote on you, instead.” 

“In what way?” You muttered, mocking for his previously sly commentary, a gratuitous - particularly brazen - step closer, to the grinning man, as his hands, slightly coaxed by a pink chill, from the breeze of winter's embrace, draped upon the clothed fabric of your hips. 

He drew a step closer, your shoes toe to toe, and he spoke - dangerously low; nauseatingly rich. “In any way you’ll let me.” He smirked. And, well, that seemed quite enough for you. 

There was a certain warmth about it - the capture of your supple lips upon the soft flesh of his own, molded wondrously to a hymn the Angels could never know. Eyes fluttered to a gentle close, engulfed with a sprinkle of vanishing warmth; the rain no longer seemed to matter. For you were clothed, slick like a second skin, in the thick moisture of everlasting water - wet, to the very bone - but no longer did you shiver, no longer did you tremble, with the ache of a chilling night. The pressure was timid, and the exploration a motion utterly anew - yet so beautifully divine, so entirely right. 

Your fingers - pink, and bitterly numb, in themselves - wove to clutch upon the lapels of his cotton jacket, a clutch of passion, and of longing, to emancipate the wondrous flutter in the depth of your gut. It twisted, it turned, it ached, it shrieked - you felt ill. Ill with the fever of amorous recipricance and a lover so sickly sweet, you felt you’d awake with cavities, in the later morn. You liked that thought, as your head tilted, be it only slight, to the side, and he followed your subtle retreat. Like honey, did he taste; like gold, did he display. And, oh, if this was love - if this, two lovers combined amongst the ache of winter’s cue - you decided that it was, undoubtedly, real. It was real, not a mere description of romanticised fiction. No. No; it was the golden sunlight, woven between your very hands; it was the melody of the birds, so suppley sweet; the dew upon the whispered grass, a lick of crisped morning; the enticing ferociousness of the oceanic waves, an azure of alluring power; the liquid gold, to drip from a Poet’s pen, woven beneath the tongue of their romantic thoughts - Oh, it were all that, and more. So much more. 

And, as his feeble smile fluctuated upon his bowed lips, and his fragile hold - something so gentle, upon the flush of your frozen cheek, you hardly noticed the grace of movement, thumb brushed beneath your fluttered eyes - draped across your features,  you found yourself discovering all that it ever could be. 

His tongue, though warm, and tender, slithered something slow upon the breach of your lower lip, and your cheeks furrowed a blossoming grin. Parting your lips, subtly, you allowed the delicate invasion of a gratifying, sweet, pressure, as the flesh ran along the side of your tongue, and you encased it within a frail suck, withdrawing from such an entanglement for hardly a moment. You inhaled a particularly deep breath, unfinished and wondrously interrupted, as his lips found yours once more, a collision of teeth, and of grinning hearts, and he craned upon your stature, a barricade to crawl along the base of your lower back. The soft slosh of clapped fabric wove amongst the rainfall, and a breathy chuckle harmonized from upon your lips, himself ridden with a gorgeous grin; chest-to-chest, with a kind of warmth you had never before known cursing throughout the very complexion that was your own, as your bodies collided, and his strength held you close. 

You inhaled the scent, familiar, though certainly different, and it tingled the depth of your nostrils - like woodland, and a subtle cologne. It seemed raw, so ravenously close, and your lips twitched upward at the thought. Oh, how you loved him. It ached your smitten chest, as he moulded his lips upon your own, and your movement harmonized something bitterly perfect, and it combusted among your soul. It tore the very sense you once held, from within your capacity, and it brushed such necessity beneath the carpet; for what was sense to a girl in love?

Nothing. All that made sense was him - was he - and you yearned to know it all; every crevice, every dent, for the rest of your days. Forever seemed a long time, though life so awfully short. To spend forever, a faux illusion of endless measures, by his side - it spread a warmth, such burning heat, throughout your tender frame, and you ached to know the script of every moment spent together, all until every moment were merely a memory, with nothing left to come. 

His feathered affection fell to a tender null, a lingering pause to disperse upon the gape of your swollen mouth, and he draped a peppered peck upon the very corner, withdrawing from such an intertwined proximity. You fluttered your gaze to meet his own - a stare of saturated honey; of every nightfall; of every poetic tale - and he smiled. A smile, so incredibly warm, you found yourself unable to withhold the reciprocance, as a timid blush crawled upon the complexion of your grinning features, and your eyes retained their strengthful embrace. 

For the bitter breeze had returned, and your lips were falling cold, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered - not the howl of brash wind, curling within your locks, and whipping the hood of your coat; the ache of layered rain, as it pattered, continually, upon the distilled world around; the treacherous ache of all things nauseatingly woozy, engulfing your frame in an intensely warm ambiguity - unfamiliar, though entirely welcome. None of it mattered - not as you drowned within the softness of his adoring gaze. 

Adoring, you thought; oh, did he adore you? “I love you.” He mumbled, a quiet crackle upon the pattern of rain, though you caught it - oh, did you catch it, clutched within the fragile hold of your softened heart, ached with the pressure of convicting ribs, it cried for freedom, for home; for Johnny. A smile, so genuine, so utterly enticed; joyous, draped upon your lips, and the corners of your glimmering eyes fell to a crease. He loved you.  He breathed a gentle chuckle, soggy arms curled upon that of your shoulders, as he drew you close - so unimaginably close - and he clutched your warmth upon his own. “God,” He breathed, his cheek slumped upon the crown of your head, down-tilted, and soaked with the cold of splattered rain. “I love you.” 

Arms draped across his middle, clutched upon his lower back - you ached from the cold, though you minded it not - as you smiled, and you breathed the only response you felt acceptable. “I know.” You said. 

“And I’ll give you the sun.” He continued, a mere rumble upon the quiet noise. “Indulge me, and I’ll give you the sun, ray, by fucking ray.” 

Oh, how you ached for such sonerous truth - for you knew he would never lie to you. 

[n0wornever]

Bad Liar - Reggie x Reader

enemies to lovers with reggie, pretty please?🥺

You got it babe ;) This was so tough to write due to the fact that Reggie is a normally a teddy bear, but I did my best!

“Seriously Y/N, you’ve been playing guitar for how long and you’re still making that mistake,” She looked up to see his smart smirk and rolled her eyes, focusing back on her hands on the strings. 

He laughed a little to himself before walking away. She sighed, dropping her fingers from their placements and muttering “tool” under her breath. 

It was never a contest, but they made it one. Even though Reggie and Y/N’s mothers were best friends and the two were forced into playdates since the age of two, the connection never really stuck. What made it worse was when they both started playing music. 

Their bands started playing similar shows and always competed against each other in their school’s battle of the bands. They were both extremely competitive, trying to throw the other one off until after their performances. Y/N grabbed her guitar and walked inside, meeting her mom in the kitchen.

“I saw you talking to Reg outside, how is he doing?”

She scoffed “How would I know mom? We aren’t exactly...close.”

Her mom shook her head “You two used to be so cute when you were little, practically attached at the hip.”

She rolled her eyes as her mother went on her usual nostalgic tirade. She placed her elbows on the table and leaned her cheeks against her hands as she watched her mom talk. 

She daydreamed about her band’s next performance. The battle of the bands was two weeks away and Jocelyn, Flynn and herself were barely ready. It was hard enough when Julie broke it to them that she was leaving the band to join Reggie’s but when she walked past the phantoms rehearsing the other night, she knew that they were next level. She had to step up her game too as their new lead singer. 

She pulled out her phone and texted the band group-chat.

“Rehearsal tomorrow?”

Flynn replied in seconds “Duh, of course” 

Joce answered with a simple thumbs up emoji, ever a poet with her responses. She shut off her phone and found her mom still talking. She rose out of her chair, interrupting her next sentence. 

“Mom, I’m exhausted, I’m going to go upstairs.”

She jogged up the stairs and sat down on her bed, pulling her guitar onto her lap. She played around with chords for awhile before propping her phone on a mini tripod and pressing record. She played a short cover of She is Love by Parachute, smiling through the lyrics. She reached over and pressed stop, dragging it over into the Instagram app and pressing post. 

She placed her phone down and laid back in her bed, staring at the ceiling. A few moments later she heard her phone ping and picked up her device. She looked at the screen in confusion as one notification stood out of the few she received. 

“UrLeadGuitaristReg liked your video” 

She shook her head, clicking on his profile picture. She scrolled down his timeline, looking at all of the photos of him and the band. A video popped up of Reggie and Luke making instruments out of household items and giggling like schoolgirls at each other and a smirk slowly fell across her face. She quickly shut off the screen and threw her phone down on the bed. 

2 weeks later

It was performance night and she was actually shaking with anticipation. The past few rehearsals had actually went extremely well for her and the girls and she actually thought they may stand a chance against Julie and The Phantoms this time around. She took a spot in the front row to support Jules, clutching Flynn’s hand in hers. 

She watched as her friend flew across the stage and her grin grew. Although she missed her in their group, it was clear that she was in her element....and she smiled watching her pass off the mic with Luke during their shared duet at the end of the song. She took a mental note to follow-up with her on that moment later. 

As the band took their bows and leapt off stage, the girls scurried back to get ready for their set. As she slung her guitar over her shoulder she heard a voice perk up behind her. 

“No acoustic tonight?”

She looked up to see Reggie’s smug expression fixed on her. She rolled her eyes, placing her pick before responding. 

“Nah, not really my stage style.” 

He chuckled “Too bad, I kinda liked it.” 

Her forehead scrunched in confusion as she saw him turn and leave the stage. She shook it off before turning back to her bandmates. Flynn gave her a curious smile but she just moved to talk business. 

“Girls, we got this.” She smiled, placing her hand in the middle, the other two bandmates followed suit. They counted down from three, shouting “Neon Dream” as their hands rose. 

They stepped out on stage and she noticed a familiar face in the center of the crowd. Reggie stood with his arms crossed, whispering something to Luke before bringing his gaze back to her. Their eyes locked for a second but she brought her gaze up to the ceiling, focusing on Jocelyn’s beats before her entrance. 

Their songs went off without a hitch. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she felt the bass in her chest and her hands flew. After their final verse, the girls moved the top of the stage hand in hand to take their bows. She heard a single “woo!” from the crowd, looking over to be met by those same dark eyes. She smirked, rolling her eyes in his direction before turning to exit the stage.

“Reggie is...interested in you tonight,” Flynn said, taking a swig out of her water. 

“He was just trying to distract me...prick.” 

Jocelyn shook her head at her bandmate, twirling the stick in her hand, “I don’t think so Y/N, his eyes were locked on you during our entire performance. I think I even caught him nodding along to the beat. 

Y/N laughed, turning to set down her guitar, “Whatever ladies, I wouldn’t worry about it-” 

She turned to see both of her bandmates missing, and instead Reggie standing in front of her. She pursed her lips before approaching him. 

“Here to tell me everything I did wrong in that performance I assume?”

Reggie shook his head, letting out a short laugh “Nah, I wanted to congratulate you. You really put your foot into those guitar solos tonight.”

She stared blankly at him, blinking. “Earth to Reggie, did you forget that you hate me?” 

He rolled his eyes at her, moving closer in her direction. She felt her heart race a bit, pushing that feeling down quickly. 

“I don’t hate you Y/N, you’re obnoxiously competitive...but I don’t hate you.”

She thought back to all of the guitar riff offs the two had, the amount of insults they spewed at each other and remained dumbfounded at his response. 

She scoffed at this suggestion before replying “I’m competitive?! Have you met YOU!?” 

His eyebrows rose, an amused smile falling across his lips as his gaze fell from her balled fists up to her scrunched nose. He placed a hand on her shoulder as he moved to walk past her, leaning in to whisper in her ear last minute.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re fired up.” 

She felt her face warm from the combination of his warm breath near her ear and his compliment. She watched as he fell out of view and scurried over to find her bandmates to await the awards portion of the evening. 

All the bands moved toward the front of the auditorium and the room was filled with hushed conversation. She finally found Flynn and Jocelyn and they both gave her a smirk. 

“What was that all about?” Flynn floated her finger between her and Reggie, who stood a few feet away talking with Alex. 

“Nothing, he was just...trying to get me off my A game.” 

Flynn’s jaw locked, looking at her friend in amazement “Uh huh... Right.” 

Their conversation was stopped by the feedback of the mic. The school principal took the stage, a small envelope in her hand. She smiled, thanking everyone for coming out before announcing the winners. 

“And the moment you’ve all been waiting for....the winner of the 2020 battle of the bands is.......” She paused, opening her letter and smiling “Neon Dream” 

Y/N froze for a second before Flynn’s hand slapping her back brought her back to reality. They went up on stage and grabbed their trophy and gave their thank you speech. As they turned to leave the stage, her eyes met Reggie once more. A seemingly real smile plastered across his face as he clapped in her direction. She let the corner of her mouth raise upward before walking backstage.

The girls squealed as they waited at the entrance of the school for their parents to pick them up, taking turns holding the trophy. She saw Flynn’s face change, turning her lips up in a smirk as she looked behind her. 

“Joce, I think I left something inside, can you go in and grab it with me.”

“What do you mean I-” 

Flynn grabbed her friend by the arm and pulled her backward. Y/N felt someone sit down beside her and turned to see Reggie extremely close to her and felt that familiar blush take control over her face.

“Congratulations, Y/N.” 

“Thanks.”

A silence fell over them. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see him staring at her, both of their gazes darting within seconds of meeting. She heard him take a deep breath in before speaking.

“Can we call a truce or something?”

She looked over at him sharply, leaning her head slightly to the right “What?”

He smiled again, rubbing his neck with his arm. “I’m kind of tired of pretending to hate you.”

She laughed, bringing her knees up to her chest “So, you don’t actually hate me?”

He shook his head “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” She tried to stop her mind from immediately trying to decode that phrase. She let her eyes move toward his again and held out her hand.

“I agree, a truce.” 

He looked at her hand, smirking before shaking it. Their hands stayed locked for a second more before she wiggled her hand out of his grip. 

“So...since we’re cool now, I was wondering if you’d like to maybe jam out some time?” 

She smiled “A band collab? That’d be pretty sweet-” 

He cut her off, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I was actually thinking maybe just a guitar collab, between you and me?” She watched as his face went pink and she looked down to the ground to stop him from seeing her growing smile.

“Oh. That’d be cool too, I guess.”

He exhaled, pushing his hands against the ground to stand back up on the pavement. She looked up at him, his smile lit against the peach sky. 

“Cool...It’s a date.” 

As he walked away, she leaned her chin on her knees and let herself smile fully, shaking her head. 

.

.

.

.

Tag list: @marinettepotterandplagg​, @lukeys-giggle​, @joshy-obx, @epikskool, @daisiesforlacey, @bestdressedandstressed, @txrii, @musicconversedance, @dasexydevitt13, @bathtimejish, @xplrreylo, @lovesanimals, @kiss-themoongoodbye

[hekatepoetryxxwriting]

Experiments in Writing: A Critique of Creative Work Within Queering, Feminism, and the Work of Sigmund Freud

For my creative work that I undertook in this module, I chose to focus on the idea of Queering. As well as this, I found myself influenced by the theories and works of Sigmund Freud[1], as well as using several feminist texts, both literary and theoretical, to try and establish a connection between the three ideas within my writing. Due to the essay Freud wrote on The Uncanny[2], he theories and ideas are already heavily tied to gothic literature as a whole, which made connecting him to my work a lot easier. I focused on short stories based upon fairy tales and attempted to alter the narrative of each of the original texts to suit the concept I had come up with. Based upon some of the work from lessons, I used a form of metalepsis[3]within my stories, trying to shift the perception of gender and sexuality within a gothic literate format. I was inspired to take this route by one of my favourite authors, a feminist writer called Angela Carter[4]. Her work in The Bloody Chambers and Other Stories[5] was a major source of inspiration for my work and helped me to develop my writing format and style throughout this module. I chose to focus my work on these theories as I felt that they were somewhat contradictory of one another, and I felt that the juxtaposition of these ideas would help to elevate my writing towards something outside of the usual style I worked in.

For my first creative piece, a short story titled The Wolves in the Woods, I wanted to focus mostly on several of Freud’s most infamous theories. The creative work itself was heavily inspired by a short story written by Angela Carter called The Company of Wolves[6]. I had read this story during college and found the way she addressed gender play and sexuality a fascinating plot device. Not only this, but the way that she would take fairytales that were commonly known amongst readers and adjusted the story to appeal to a wider feminist reading. I agree that a lot of fairytales have subtle sexist undertones that usually place women and men in specific boxes, and I enjoyed reading Carter’s reimagining of this.

Because of the theories I had been researching for the module, I found that writing influences like Carter were juxta-positioned with theories like Freud. One of the main theories I hoped to translate into creative work was the three agents of Freud’s idea of the psyche, often referred to as the ‘id, ego, and super-ego’[7]. As Freud explains, the id ‘contains everything that is inherited, that is present at birth, is laid down in the constitution — above all, therefore, the instincts, which originate from the somatic organization, and which find a first psychical expression here (in the id) in forms unknown to us’[8]. The ego and super-ego, on the other hand, represented the more intelligent side of humans, made of ideas like common sense and cultural norms and opinions taught to children by their parents and the society they live in. This concept of basic instinct versus the laws of society was something I could instantly connect to the gothic literature of Carter, as well as feminism and Queering due to their association with being historically against society’s idea of normal.

When I began to plot out my creative work, I realised that the entire concept of a werewolf was a literary device for man’s inner turmoil between instinct and reason, aka the id and the ego/super-ego. I attempted to flout the tropes of romance writing by presenting a werewolf who, unlike many other fictional interpretations, does not ignore the basic animalist instincts for his love interest. Rather, they compromise, accepting equal shares of idand ego, whilst completely casting aside the rules society sets, therefore ignoring the concept of the super-ego. By casting aside the rules that are hinted at through the story, the protagonist is freed, as shown by the ending of the story being ‘amongst the howls beseeching the night, was a woman’s cries of joy entering the chorus’[9].

Throughout the beginning of the story, the structure of the super-ego is important to the world-building of the setting. Another of Freud’s theories that I used for my first creative piece was the Madonna-Whore complex, which suggests that women either fit the role of the pure virginal wife, or the corrupted succubus. The implication of the theory is that women can only be one or the other, with the Madonna being the ‘preferred’ female archetype. In The Wolves in the Woods I allowed my protagonist to undergo a narrative transformation using the Queering literary device metalepsis. Judith Butler’s point on metalepsis helped to carve the character development in my work through her statement that ‘the performativity of gender revolves around this metalepsis… performativity is not a singular act, but a repetition, a ritual’[10]. Through my first creative piece, I tried to show a progression from a Madonna-like character to someone who embodies the whore, which is summed up by the end of my story in a paragraph ‘She is not the trodden women of the village, with their heads wrapped in silk, hidden from men and from the world. Now she sits upon the lap of the wolf, who stares at her with pupils blown wide, ears open and perked’ [11]and separates her from the other women, transforming her in just two sentences and completing the metalepsis.

However, this is not the only instance of metalepsis in this story. Whilst this is more of a metaphorical sense of metalepsis, the actual idea of a werewolf is a physical form of this literary device. This was another way of connecting the two characters. They both undergo some form of transformation and simultaneously must learn to adapt due to their place in the world. To make this clearer, I used repetition in the way they were described to further suggest the idea that their roles in society were different. These sentences, ‘Lycanthrope: the ability to shift, to transform, to adapt’ and ‘Woman: the ability to shift, to transform, to adapt’ were written this way because they also implied that both Lycanthrope and Woman were ‘things’ rather than people.

A major point to the majority of my stories was taking traditional gender roles within fairy tales and adjusting the narrative around them, which is one of the entire concepts behind the literary device of metalepsis. I did research on masculinity within fairy tales[12]- and gothic literature in general- and found a few feminist articles that discussed how these male characters were influenced by the masculine ideals of the time, and how it affects the narrative of the novels they appear in as a whole[13]. An essay by Alice Neikirk found evidence that ‘Rather than being a mere reflection of societal ideals, these fairytales perpetuate Christian, patriarchal concepts as a means of maintaining the gender hierarchy’[14]. I find that exploring fairytales through Freudian concepts was easy, as a lot of Freud’s theories focused on societal expectations and the way they can shape the human psyche. To an extent, fairytales, including my own, are a prose form of rules and morals set by the society who shares them, usually used as a form of control over children, mainly young girls.

Therefore, when applying psychoanalytical theories to my work, I attempted to subvert some of the typical rules set in fairytales by changing the roles of characters. An example of this is my final story, Eilidh’s Prince, which featured a lesbian romance whereupon one of the characters assumes the role of a man for a brief period. I felt that this was the best choice for the plot because of the symbolism of castration anxiety that is prevalent throughout the story. This is something I made clear when I chose to write the line ‘A fanged rose, a vertical grimace they cower from, lest it bite back’[15]. The idea of castration anxiety[16] is another of Freud’s theories, something he viewed as part of the uncanny. The idea is that men fear castration, perhaps as a punishment for their lust or simply the idea of becoming women, but I attempted to transform this idea by having a woman become a man temporarily, knowing the ‘fanged rose’ was not something she had to fear. I wanted to create a sense of dramatic irony that also came from Carter’s work. One story in particular that inspired me for this was ‘The Erl-King’ where the title character is described as ‘an excellent housewife’[17]. Through this, Carter has transgressed the usual boundaries of gender, and attributes feminine qualities to her male character. I took my version a little more literally and allowed my love interest to dress as a male.

For the other story in my collection, The Fae Prince and The Pomegranate[18], I also had used The Erl-King[19]as my main inspiration. However, unlike my two other pieces, this one was also partially inspired by historical mythology, which is another passion of mine. The mythology I chose to use for my work was the story of Hades, God of the Underworld, and Persephone[20]. Greek Mythology lends itself to fairytales as they could technically be considered a tale of their own time. Not only this, but I find that the nature of the Celtic myth of Fae is similar to the rules of the Underworld according to Greek accounts of Hades and Persephone. The main rule that comes to mind between both is that eating in their respective territories, according to legends, will force the victim to remain there forever. However in doing my research I found that certain myths suggest that Persephone had in face willingly gone to the Underworld, hence her name changing from Kore (meaning ‘the maiden’) to Persephone, which means ‘the bringer of death’[21]. The use of the pomegranate as a way of tying the Prince to the mortal girl and by extension her world was my way of applying both Fae rules and still using the mythology that I had used to construct the story’s foundations.

In conclusion, I enjoyed using these theories and influences to create my stories. I found that the use of experimental ideas and writing gave me more freedom than the usual styles I had been writing in. Comparing feminism and queering with the likes of Freud proved to be quite a challenge, but I feel that it paid off, as I have been able to create an unusual set of stories heavily inspired by authors’ works that I have long looked up to as gothic fantasy literature with heavy symbolism and use of metaphors and euphemisms that made the stories more interesting.

[1] Martin Evan Jay, "Sigmund Freud | Biography, Theories, Works, & Facts", Encyclopedia Britannica <https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sigmund-Freud> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [2] Sigmund Freud, The Uncanny (London: Penguin Books, 1919). [3] "Metalepsis - Definition And Examples Of Metalepsis", Literary Devices <https://literarydevices.net/metalepsis/> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [4] "Angela Carter", Angelacarter.Co.Uk, 2014 <https://www.angelacarter.co.uk/> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [5] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [6] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [7] Saul Mcleod, "Id, Ego, And Superego | Simply Psychology", Simplypsychology.Org, 2019 <https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html#:~:text=According%20to%20Freud%20psychoanalytic%20theory,id%20and%20the%20super%2Dego.> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [8] Sigmund Freud, "An Outline Of Psycho-Analysis", 1940. [9]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [10] Judith Butler, Performative Acts And Gender Constitution: An Essay In Phenomenology And Feminist Theory (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1988) <https://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/3207893.pdf> [Accessed 19 April 2021]. [11]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [12] Alice Neikirk, "...Happily Ever After (Or What Fairytales Teach Girls About Being Women)", Hilo.Hawaii.Edu <https://hilo.hawaii.edu/campuscenter/hohonu/volumes/documents/Vol07x07HappilyEverAfter.pdf> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [13] "Masculinity In Victorian Gothic Novels", Ukessays.Com, 2017 <https://www.ukessays.com/essays/english-literature/masculinity-in-victorian-gothic-novels-english-literature-essay.php> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [14] Alice Neikirk, "...Happily Ever After (Or What Fairytales Teach Girls About Being Women)", Hilo.Hawaii.Edu <https://hilo.hawaii.edu/campuscenter/hohonu/volumes/documents/Vol07x07HappilyEverAfter.pdf> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [15]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [16] Sigmund Freud, "Freud: On Narcissism", English.Hawaii.Edu <http://www.english.hawaii.edu/criticalink/narc/guide5.html> [Accessed 19 April 2021]. [17] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [18]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [19] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [20] "Myth Of Hades And Persephone", Greek Myths & Greek Mythology <https://www.greekmyths-greekmythology.com/myth-of-hades-and-persephone/> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [21] "Persephone: Goddess Of Spring And The Underworld", THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY <https://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Persephone.html> [Accessed 20 April 2021].

[sweethq]

♡ Maniac // song scenario

𑁍 Characters: Oikawa Tōru, mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime

»»—Trigger warning(s): mild swearing, bullying, mentions of a car accident and death (kinda?)—-««

➶ Genre: angstttttt, timeskip!AU

✎ Word count: 5.5k

-ˏˋ A/N: Hello!! I’m so excited to share this piece of work with you all. This is my first attempt at writing a song scenario so please bear with me! This is also the first long-ish scenario that I am posting on this account which is super exciting!! I hope you all enjoy and I hope to keep posting content that you guys will like ^^ Also, I feel bad for making Oikawa look like a complete and utter jerk lol buuuuut you gotta do what you gotta do. Remember, this is all fiction and is all in good fun!ˊˎ-

Tōru has been acting weird the past few weeks, weirder than one should to their s/o after dating for nine months. The once loving, carefree boy that made your heart race seemed to disappear within a matter of seconds. You remembered the times walking in the city together. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand while giving you a soft smile. Day trips out into the city are now rare, and when they do occur, the only physical contact is your arms grazing against each other which fades much too quickly.

You would visit his favorite bakery once every two weeks, ordering the same pastry every time: a strawberry iced doughnut. The first time you went there together, on your third date, your first bite ended with you smearing the icing on the corners of your mouth. Tōru chuckled, muttering a quiet “Clumsy,” before leaning over the table to wipe it off for you. You felt your heart clench in your chest, heat making its way up your neck and to your ears. Since then, you made it a point to order the same doughnut each time in hopes that Tōru would once again slide his finger over the corner of your mouth; and he did. Last week was the first time in nearly nine months that he didn’t, leaving an unsettling feeling in your stomach. These types of things were very routine in your relationship, so when they came to a sudden halt, you couldn’t help but feel curious and anxious at the same time. When the two of you are out together, it feels like he’s not even there. He doesn’t give the same warm smile, tell stupid jokes, or even give you a second glance. It just feels… distant.

You tried to approach him about it, knowing that there were too many things that were suddenly changing. “Do you not love me anymore?” “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” “Is there someone else?” Tōru felt guilty. Guilty that he would give you any reason to believe that he was being unfaithful.

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you feel this way, I never meant to hurt you. I’ll do better, I promise,” he stated before walking closer to you. He raised his hand to softly caress your cheek, deeply staring into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He placed a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away and placing another on your forehead.

“I have to go, I promised Iwa-chan that I would go to his place to hang with him and the other guys. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” You gave a small smile and a nod, him returning the favor with another kiss on the forehead before walking out the door. You couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t give an answer to any of the questions you asked.

----------

A few hours have passed since Tōru left, and you can’t stop thinking about the unanswered questions from earlier. You went back and forth between pacing the room, sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, and laying on the floor; hoping that one of these things would help your brain think of a possible explanation. After hours of thinking, you notice his jacket resting on the back of one of your dining room chairs. Your eyes light up, knowing this would be a reasonable excuse to visit your boyfriend at Iwaizumi’s place.

The walk was short, but gave you enough time to think about what you would say when you saw Tōru, not quite sure why you feel the need to think of a script to talk to him. You stand outside Iwaizumi’s door, breathing a sigh of relief as you hear your boyfriend’s loud voice through the wall that separates you two. As you bring your hand up to knock, you suddenly hear your name be said by a female voice, making you freeze in your place. You can’t help but let your curiosity get the better of you. You slowly inch closer to the door and press your ear against it, hoping to not make any unwanted noises.

“Didn’t you say you only asked them out because you pitied them?”

“Yeah, I just felt bad for them. They would always follow me around and tell me how much they love me. I thought it would be fun to play a little game.” You can tell that Tōru’s words were laced with alcohol. The girls inside the room let out little giggles, one commenting, “What a freak.”

The longer you stand with your ear against the door, the more pain you feel in your heart.

“When are you finally going to ditch them? Aren’t you tired of sticking around someone you don’t even like?” There is a long pause after these questions are asked. I’ll never leave them. I love them too much. You hoped he would say something of that sort, but once again was met with disappointment.

“Well I thought that the longer I stay with them, the more fun it will be to end things. You know, it’ll hurt more, I guess…” His words are a little hesitant, voice getting smaller the further into the sentence he got.

“Who knows, maybe they’ll die from a broken heart.” The voice doesn’t belong to Tōru, but the laugh that follows after does. So many emotions are flooding through your brain and your heart, and you’re not sure how to comprehend them all.

You clutch his jacket in your fist, knuckles quick to turn white. Unwelcome tears pool in your eyes as your hands begin to shake. You silently pray that this was all a horrible dream and you didn’t actually hear those words escape his mouth, but know deep down that this is all too real. Quiet sobs left your mouth as you bend down into a squat, legs almost giving out under you. You can’t help but think back to your time with Tōru, all the memories you made together. Was it all a lie? All of the late night walks, the picnics by the river, the little inside jokes, the love… was it all a part of a game?

The sound of a door opening interrupts your thoughts.

You slowly lift your head up to meet the eyes of your boyfriend. You can sense the panic in his face, not sure how long you have been there or how much you heard. The tears streaming down your face tell him that you heard everything. He takes a slight step towards you, reaching out for your hand.

“Y/N, wait-”

You throw his jacket at him before running off the porch and down the street, wanting to be anywhere but in front of the boy who just tore your heart into pieces. You hear him shouting behind you. This is just a misunderstanding. Let me explain. What is there to misunderstand? You gave your heart to someone who promised to take care of it as if it were his own, and you’re now facing the consequences because of it.

You run all the way back to your home, ignoring the burning sensation in your calves. You slam the door behind you and lock it, not wanting any uninvited guests (Tōru). You stand in your empty house, eyes now dry from the cold wind that blew in your face on the run home. Everywhere you look you see him. All of the space between these walls has touched him and will hold him in its memory.

You walk to the kitchen, letting your fingertips graze the shiny countertop, smiling when thinking about the mess you two would always make while baking.

Snickerdoodles were always a must when the holidays came around. You were determined to bake the best snickerdoodles known to man when Tōru told you he had never tasted the heavenly treat. You prepared the ingredients on the counter, humming a soft tune to fill the silence in the room. Tōru stood beside you, admiring the calm look on your face and how delicate you looked. He approached you from behind, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He always found it fascinating to watch you bake since everything he would put in an oven would somehow instantly catch on fire. He started to slowly bring his hands back to place them on your hips then run them up your sides. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but let him continue anyways. After drawing little circles over your ribs, he started to tickle you, knowing that you would give him a reaction. You yelped, arms flailing without your consent, knocking over the open bottle of cream into the bowl where the dough was, ruining the cookies that were nearly ready to go into the oven. You gasped before quickly picking up the overturned carton, staring at the masterpiece that quickly turned into a disaster. You huffed and turned to look at your boyfriend who had an apologetic smirk on his face. How can someone express those two emotions at the same time? You stared at him for a second, trying to find the words to voice your frustration. You decided that instead of telling him how you felt, you would show him. You reached behind you and grabbed an egg off the counter, rubbing your thumb against its smooth shell before smashing it in Tōru’s perfectly styled hair, wiping the smirk right off of his face. You couldn’t hold in your laughs as the yolk dripped down his forehead and in between his chocolate eyes. The shock on his face didn’t last for long. He was quick to grab another egg and return the favor, this time topping it off with a handful of flour. Now the kitchen was covered with various ingredients flung in different directions and a couple of idiots that were even messier than the kitchen itself. As the sun was beginning to set, you ran out of items to throw at each other. You stared at him, chuckling at the mess you had made of each other. Even looking at him with egg in his hair and flour covering his complexion, he was still the most beautiful person to you. The sun’s rays beamed through the window making Tōru’s eyes look like pools of honey, sucking you into them deeper and deeper. You brought your hand up to his face and softly caressed his cheek, admiring every inch of his beauty.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” A coy grin on his face after he noticed you staring at him, a hint of pink on the tip of his ears. To his surprise, you pulled out your phone and took a picture of him just like he told you to, reminding yourself to make it his new contact picture later. He chuckled slightly, muttering a soft, “Idiot,” before putting his hand on the back of your neck and closing the space between the two of you. His lips tasted like cinnamon and sugar with a hint of vanilla. After the sweet kiss, you pulled away, making sure to keep your foreheads connected so you could just appreciate being with him in his arms.

You smile at the memory that is all too vivid in your mind. You walk into the living room and glance at the pictures that scatter the walls. You approach Tōru’s favorite picture of the two of you, one that you initially hated but grew to love over time.

It was the 18th of December when Tōru dragged you out of the house for your ‘special Christmas surprise’. You questioned him on why it couldn’t wait until Christmas day but he insisted that it had to be today. When you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he turned to you and held out a blindfold for you to take.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m putting that thing on,” you said, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Come on Y/N-channnn! Just this once, I promise. If you do it, I’ll buy you boba on the way home.” His words were so convincing. You were quick to grab the blindfold out of his hand, grumbling a quiet, “Fine,” as you tied it so it was blocking your vision.

The car ride felt like it took a lifetime and then some, but in reality took no longer than ten minutes. Tōru instructed you to keep the blindfold on and wait for him to come on your side of the car to help you out. You let out a loud sigh, not exactly sure why you still couldn’t take the piece of fabric off. He wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your final location, making sure to point out any steps or dips in the ground that were approaching. After a short minute walk, you were met with adults chattering and a mixture of children screaming in excitement and crying in fear. You concluded that you were definitely in a very public place, but had absolutely no idea where your lunatic of a boyfriend brought you. After standing around for a couple of minutes and you groaning about how bored you were, you heard an unknown voice shout, “Next!” which made Tōru take a few steps forward, you still in his hold, sightless.

“Okay baby. You can take your blindfold off now!” His voice was covered in excitement, which made you even more anxious to take the piece of cloth off. A smile crept onto your face but when the blindfold came off, so did your smile. You stared straight ahead at the surprise that Tōru had in store for you before turning to face him, a shit-eating grin on his face. You could see tears in his eyes from trying to hold in his laughter.

“Tōru…… What is this.”

“It’s….. It’s Santa Clause.”

“Yeah, but W H Y ?”

He didn’t give you a reply, but instead grabbed your wrist and dragged you to stand in front of the man of the hour. You forced a smile on your face, not wanting to seem rude.

“Hi Santa! My s/o over here really loves and admires you and would appreciate taking a picture sitting on your lap. Is that okay?” His words came out sweet, but they were covered in venom. This was probably payback for the time you ‘accidentally’ spilled your drink on his crotch when you went hiking and proceeded to tell people passing by that he just sweats a lot.

“Of course! Anything for this cutie,” Santa said in a voice used to speak to babies, pinching your cheek in the process. You kinda stood there, not quite sure what to do. You definitely did NOT want to sit on his lap, but at the same time, you were too nice to just walk out of there. Tōru could see your hesitance and decided to give you a little *shove* in the right direction (A/N: please know that y/n is not uncomfortable in this situation, but rather just finds the act embarrassing. Tōru would not make them do this if he knew that they would be uncomfortable). Once you found a spot on Santa’s right knee, you told the person behind the camera to quickly take the photo. You noticed Tōru standing on the other side of Santa’s chair holding a peace sign and smiling from ear to ear. You stare at him with pure anger, wanting to wipe that stupid smile off his face. You didn’t even realize that the photo had already been taken. Tōru ended up printing dozens of copies of this photo, making sure to give it to each of your friends and family on Christmas day.

You look at the photo of the two of you, well, actually the three of you. You seem so angry in the picture, but you know that behind all of that anger, you still were stupidly in love with him. You laugh at how it’s ironic to the situation you’re in. You’re mad. More than mad, furious. Furious that you have all of these memories together and all you can think about is how they are full of lies. Furious that even though he hurt you and will continue to hurt you, you still love that tall idiot.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N… Please open the door. I need to see your face.” You don’t move a muscle, your eyes still locked on that photo.

Another knock. Two. Three.

“Please… You need to hear me out.”

More knocking.

You glance at the door, knowing what awaits you on the other side. The sound of knocking engulfs your house, it’s driving you mad. You breathe out a heavy sigh before storming towards the door and swinging it open.

“What,” you spit at him, trying to ignore the empathy that you feel at the sight of his red eyes and swollen lips. He just stares at you, almost like he was trying to tell if you were real or not. You started to close the door, seeing as you were just wasting time. His hand stops the door before it could shut. You open it again, wide enough for him to be back in your line of sight. He looks down at his intertwined hands that hold a single red rose before looking back up at you and extending his arms.

“I-i got this for you on my way here. I know you like daisies more, but I couldn’t find any so I thought this would be okay.” His voice was quiet and strained, like if he spoke up a little more he would break. He tries to keep a small smile on his face, but when you let a laugh escape your lips, he instantly frowns. You stop laughing.

“Why are you here, Oikawa?”

----------

You were with your friends partying

When the alcohol kicked in, said you wanted me dead

So, you showed up at my home, all alone

With a shovel and a rose

Do you think I’m a joke?

----------

Oikawa winces when his last name falls off your lips. He always loved it when you called him Tōru, and you knew that. But this wasn’t Tōru, not the one that you fell in love with. This wasn’t the same guy that would play with your hair when you laid your head in his lap, or kissed your fingertips when you’d accidentally burn them. No. This is someone different. Someone you feel you don’t even know.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Y/N! I never meant to hurt you. God, I’m such an idiot… I don’t even know how to explain myse-”

“Just answer me this. Did you ever love me? Or were these past nine months a complete lie?” You hold your breath, hoping the tears will stop threatening to fall. You were hesitant to ask these questions, knowing that the answer could crush you, but you needed to know. Oikawa’s eyes grew, tears cascading down his flushed cheeks.

“Of course I loved you! I still do, so, so much! These past nine months have been the best months of my entire life, none of it was fake, I promise. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I can’t fake something like that…” Oikawa’s eyes were burning holes into yours, you started to wonder the last time he blinked. His words were convincing, but the words he said earlier this night kept playing on repeat in your head.

“Bullshit. If you love me so much, why would you say those things about me? Why would you tell them that I was some crazy stalker who was obsessed with you? Why would you tell them that you’re dating me as a joke? Why did you say all of these things that you knew would hurt me?” A single tear falls, causing the others to join. Oikawa takes a step forward, wanting to kiss your tears and pain away. You simultaneously take a step back, finally breaking the eye contact that bound the two of you together. His heart broke at the sight of you. Not only were you hurting, but you were hurting because of him.

“I-I just… Just… I-”

“You just what?”

He continues to stare at you, wondering whether or not he should even attempt to explain himself. His sober mind knows that his actions are the result of narcissism and stupidity, and there’s a chance that his lame excuse could hurt you even more.

“Most of the people that I was with tonight, I don’t usually hang out with. Recently Iwa-chan has been inviting them to hang out because they’re always pestering us and we thought if we hung out with them a few times, they would stop. So we invited them to hang out, have a few drinks, and show them how boring we are,” he stopped to take a breath, hesitant to move on. “I guess they knew that I was dating you and, for whatever reason, didn’t like that. They would make fun of me and say mean things and… it reminded me of my childhood when I used to get bullied and was an outcast. I guess it really traumatized me because when that feeling came back, I wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. I guess the alcohol made that decision for me and that’s when I started saying all of those horrible things and… I guess I didn’t think it was going to affect our relationship because I didn’t think you would ever find out… I know I’m such an asshole, but please you need to know that none of the things I told them were true. My love for you is completely and utterly real, and the fact that I screwed it up is killing me.”

You remain silent, once again staring into Oikawa’s eyes, reading him like a book. His eyes shine like glass, full of guilt and sorrow. His bottom lip is red from biting it, hoping to make it stop quivering. His interlocked hands are still holding the rose he brought you, his thumbs anxiously fiddling with each other. You can tell that he genuinely feels sorry and ashamed of his mistakes.

“Y/N. Please, say something. Anything.”

Unfortunately for him, there was no longer room in your heart for forgiveness.

“So I guess you’ve been telling them these kinds of things for a while now, huh? I guess that explains why you stopped acting like we’re a couple in public, right? You didn’t want one of your new friends to see us and question your motives.” You give a small laugh, not sure if it’s out of self-pity or anger. “You should go back to Iwaizumi’s. I’m sure they’re all wondering where you went and why you ran after your psychotic s/o who you don’t even like… Just keep telling them the same story, or better yet, why don’t you tell them that you broke my heart, threw it in my face, and then laughed at me? I’m sure you’ll earn some extra brownie points from them.” You look at his eyes one last time before turning around to walk back inside, pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll stop by your place tomorrow to pick up my things.”

Before you could close the door, Oikawa pleaded.

“Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you in my life.”

You pause at the shakiness in his voice, so close to caving in and forgetting all of the events that occurred tonight. Before you can make any impulsive decisions, you shut the door in his face, not wanting to think about how he’s feeling or what he’s going to do. You try to ignore any type of empathy you feel for him, he’s the one that hurt you, remember?

----------

Well, people like you always want back what they can’t have

But I’m past that, and you know that

So you should turn back to your rat pack, telling ‘em trash

----------

You lay on the sofa holding a picture of Oikawa in your lap, not attempting to move from your spot for the hour since Oikawa left. You hate that after all of the things he said about you, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him and how much you wish he were right next to you. You wish that he were holding you close and wiping the stray tears that leave your eyes, but instead, he was the one inflicting them. The white ceiling above you keeps your attention, becoming the screen as your memories become the projector. You can almost visualize all of the times you spent with Oikawa, even the times before you started dating. You wish you could go back to the simpler times, the times when things weren’t turning to shit.

Your phone rings beside you. You remember in the beginning of your relationship with Oikawa your heart would always race when you got a phone call or message, hoping that it was him on the other side. Even at a time like this, your mind can’t help but think of those chocolate eyes and soft brown locks. You pick up your phone and stare at the caller ID. It’s Oikawa.

You fight with yourself, deciding whether or not it would be smart to answer his call. You click ‘accept’ before you have a chance to back out again.

The call is silent with the exception of sniffles on the other end. Oikawa breaks the silence.

“Y/N? A-are you there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m here. Why are you calling?”

“I just really, really wanted to hear your voice.” You hear the rev of a car engine through the phone.

“You shouldn’t be talking on the phone while you’re driving. It’s dangerous.”

“But talking to you makes me feel so safe.” Silence engulfed the phone call, neither of you knowing what to say to each other. Oikawa starts to cry, his sobs soon becoming the only thing you can hear. You continue to not say a word.

“God, I’m so stupid. I thought I was finally getting my life together. I’m in good health, I have my dream job, I met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I had to go and fuck it all up. Honestly I don’t give a shit about my health or my job, all I care about is you. I just love you so much, I can’t-” His words are cut off by a long screech and then a loud crash. Once again, the call is silent.

“O-oikawa?” There’s no reply. “Oikawa?! Tōru?! Are you okay? Please answer me?” Your breathing was becoming erratic, shaky fingers having a hard time keeping the phone pressed against your cheek. You hear a groan and shuffling from the other side before getting a response.

“Shit. I crashed my damn car into a tree.”

“I don’t care about the car, are you okay? I need to call an ambulance for you-”

“No,” he interrupts you, “I don’t want to see any paramedics. The only person I want to see is you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion, and you’re bleeding, aren’t you?”

“I don’t care. I won’t see anyone but you.” Oikawa takes a deep breath before getting out of his wrecked car. He starts his walk back home, not caring to wait for first responders. “I’m not going to beg you to come, but if you want to see me, you know where to find me.” He hangs up the phone, leaving you speechless on the other end.

You don’t want to waste another second. You quickly grab your car keys and toss your jacket over your shoulder. Even though you know it’s going to hurt you to see him again, you need to make sure he’s okay.

----------

You just went too far

Wrecked your car, called me crying in the dark

Now you’re breakin’ my heart

So I show up at your place right away

Wipe the tears off of your face

While you beg me to stay

----------

It’s stupid. Stupid that you’ll drop everything you’re doing to rush to his side whenever he says he needs you. Stupid that you still love and care about him just as much as you did in the beginning.

You turn the engine off upon arriving at Oikawa’s apartment. You swiftly get out of your car and race to his door, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to save a few seconds. You fiddle with the keys on your keychain as you reach his front door, trying to find the matching one. You knew all too well that one of Oikawa’s antics is always locking the door, even when he’s expecting company. You find the fitting key and waste no time unlocking the door and scouting the place for any sign of life. You figure he’s in his bedroom as the kitchen and living room remain vacant.

You peek around the corner that leads into his room, spotting the tall man laying on the bed, legs dangling over the edge.You gasp at the blood, cuts and scrapes coving his skin. You walk over to him and grab his cold hand, pulling him off the bed and into the bathroom.

“Sit,” you order, pointing at the counter. He obeys without a word, head hanging low. You search the cabinets for a first aid kit, knowing that he would have one from his volleyball days. After finding the small box, you pull out the materials that were needed to clean him up; lots of antibacterial wipes, gauze and band-aids. You take one of the wipes and press it onto a cut on his shin, Oikawa hissing at the impact. You ignore it and continue to clean the scrapes that scatter both of his legs, finishing with a deeper cut on his knee. As you finished cleaning it, you heard him sniffle and watched a tear fall into his lap.

“What are you, five? It doesn’t hurt that much-”

“I didn’t think you would come,” he whispered, voice shaky and emotionless. You peer up at him, his head still hanging and refusing to meet your eyes. You reach your hand up and wipe the tears that wet his face, your palm lingering, cupping his cheek. He melted into your touch.

“Idiot… Of course I would come.”

You spend the rest of the time patching up his wounds in silence, neither of you able to find the correct words in this situation. You finish putting the last band-aid on his cheekbone, your face in shocking proximity to his. He stares into your eyes, you looking anywhere but. You’re afraid that if you look into his eyes, there’s no turning back.

“I should go,” you mutter, not wanting to overstay your visit. You turn around to walk out of the bathroom, but come to a halt with the feeling of Oikawa’s slender fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Please don’t leave me.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I need you. Please.”

You stare straight ahead, not daring to turn around and face him.

“I’ll stay,” you start, “If you promise to give up your pride and tell everyone that you were lying. Tell them that you really do love me and that you were scared of what others would think. I’ll stay if you promise never to lie about those kinds of things and to never hurt me like you have ever again. Can you do that?” The silence was eerie, and made your stomach do hundreds of flips. You hoped that the universe would be on your side for once and hear the things you wished would escape his lips.

“I-I can’t… I just-”

You grabbed his wrist with your vacant hand and violently removed his grasp from yours, not letting him finish his sentence. You still stood with your back towards him, not wanting him to see the tears that were once again trickling down your face. You pull your keychain out of your pocket, finding your key to Oikawa’s apartment and stripping it from the rest. You drop it onto the floor by your feet, clanging a few times on the hardwood floor before it stops. As you walk out of the bathroom, your words make his heart clench in his chest.

“Goodbye, Oikawa.”

----------

Tell all of your friends that I’m crazy and drive you mad

That I’m such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath

Then tell them you hate me, and dated me just for laughs

So why do you call me and tell me you want me back?

You maniac

[lawgrain]

Okay hold onto your safety goggles ’m ‘bout to go off on a topic here.

I’ve seen random posts about how there's a stigma with people in ao3 fandoms. And there is. 100% so don’t get me wrong with this post, I won’t pretend that there isn’t a stigma from people in ao3 fandoms. But I am about to argue the complete other side of things real quick. Yep, I’m going into sports. 

Before I get into sports I think it should be fully addressed that there is so much hypocrisy on both sides of the two very different types of fandoms, one being the types of fandom you find on ao3 and the other being sport fanbases. People in ao3 fandoms are quite made fun of for their avid fandom activites despite said passion also applies to sports fans even if its shown in different ways. On the flip side, a gross amount of people will also say that they don’t get sports and find it brutish and/or stupid. People on both sides discredit the other. So as a person who is primarily into ao3 fandoms, I thought it’d be fun to explain the appeal of sports in a way that non-sport fans would understand.

LETS GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Oh and for examples today, I’m using hockey. It’s just the one I actually know more context for.

So, let’s kick it off with a slight anecdote here. My friend and I had asked a guy about the appeal of sports to them and the answer we got was that it was for the stories. Which that didn’t quite click to us when there’s literally no story, its a game. They furthered this impression with talk of stats. In short, they explained it wrong because there are some fascinating stories in sports.

The problem with sports is that there's not an overly easy way to learn some of these stories. But they are there if you know the context. So for example, in a fandom there’s a shit ton of retribution moments. Some hag of a character finally, finally gets just the perfect way of being told off. Its goddamn wonderful and you love life just for a moment b/c that character got exactly what you’ve been dying to see the entire series. That happens in sports too bro. Because trust me, there are...

Plenty of hated players. And it is pretty damn exciting when a player who constantly plays dirty to get some karma.

But the problem is, if you don’t know the rules/watch the game enough, you’re not going to understand that your favorite trope just happened. For example, lets look at this guy: 

This is Corey Perry. Now he’s not very well loved by everyone and he has also been known to make dirty plays. As in literally just hitting a person with his stick like in here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PorOu02IeUc

or here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lC6C10LYWZs

You can interpret these however you like. Either way, his playing style is part of what makes the next video here a bit more pleasing for fans. I’m going to explain context first though.

In hockey, there’s a penalty called embellishment. It’s used when a player dives on the ice or, more entertainingly, embellishes an injury or trying to make themselves look more hurt than they are. Players will sometimes try to embellish an injury so that their opponents get a penalty.

In this video Perry does exactly that. Some will try and say that maybe he is that hurt, but first consider how brutal hockey can actually be and this ain’t it, and that he is known to make some dirty moves. With that in mind, he basically pulls a Draco Malfoy with Buckbeak in this. Last thing to keep in mind, is that from what I’ve heard (but don’t quote me on it) he’s pulled stuff like this before. Now please enjoy his surprised Pikachu face at the end

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YO2F85RkJOY

Without any context, this either seems like an honest reaction or just sports eh. But with context, it’s quite fun. I didn’t actually care about the video until I found the context for it within the comment section. I initially watched it within a compilation though. It’s important to know what the penalty is apparently.

Also I will say, there are moments that penalty is actually infuriating and undeserved.

Changing topics, I can’t find a video of this (sports have an absurd amount of compilation videos but very little individual moment making things hard to find) buuuuut! There’s a moment between teams that I actually really liked when I found out the context of it. There was a fight that had started between two teams, as in the entire team went off, at a seemingly minor offense. The thing was the minor thing that happened was against the goalie and the opposing team had already done a lot of other icky thing in that particular game. Why is that important?

You don’t mess with the goalie.

It’s an unwritten rule of hockey but it’s got kind of a sweet sentiment? Hockey teams are generally more protective of their goalies. While there are definitely some volatile goalies, goalies aren’t typically going to be starting fights and are typically in less fights than the rest of the team ends up in. Also the goalkeeper is really important. Not only are they important but there's only two of them. In games where both goalies are injured and can't play, the team basically ends up screwed. The home team has to provide an emergency goalie if that happens and most the time that is a death sentence for the team. There are exceptions to that like this guy:

Which oh my gosh, if David Ayres isn’t one of the best stories in sports. This guy never played national league and was a zambodi driver for the maple leafs. Then he was brought in a the emergency player and helped beat the Maple Leafs. He blocked about three shots from the Maple Leafs, his employers, and the Canes won the game.

Point is, context makes a huge as difference in actually being able to enjoy stories within a game. Knowing how something is a karma moment, like with Perry, makes things click into place. Or knowing that a player has done something knowingly wrong like purposefully rushing into a goalie, makes you understand why people are mad about it. And people are mad right along with the players when they see that.

Same kind of stuff happens in fandom stories.

So I was actually going to add another hockey story but it’s actually really gory so I’m leaving it out. I’d be happy to make a separate post with what I was going to mention but that needs more warning than I can give here. So I’ll cut this short.

Anyway, my big point here was there’s actually some very interesting things within sports. I won’t act like everything has a deep meaning to it, but it’s a tad off to write off sports as just some guys throwing around a ball or hitting around a puck. People will watch this:

Or this:

Or even movies like these:

Because it gives the story with context in a drama filled way that’s clear to understand. Watching sports, the commentators don’t actually fulfill what people would need to understand the drama behind things. Watching sports can be just as drama filled and entertaining but you have to learn a lot of outside stuff.

Overall, fandoms of any kind are going to be similar in a lot of ways. Most don’t consider sports fandoms and the types of ao3 fandoms to be in the same field at all. And while I agree, that they aren’t quite in the same group, both can be entertaining for similar reasons. I just think a lot of people don’t get why sports are entertaining at all. I don’t argue that one has to find it entertaining or fall in love with sports now. All I’m meaning is that people shouldn’t just write off interests. People do that to regular fandoms all the time and attach stigmas to it. And because sports doesn’t feel like the same thing as a fandom, people in fandoms don’t seem to mind writing off the interests in sports in a similar manor. And people don’t always do that meanly but saying “You can like it, I just don’t get it” is writing it off to an extent. Because really, we can all get it to a certain degree even if it’s not out cup of tea.

That’s all! Again, let me know if anyone wants the random but kind of gory hockey knowledge I cut.

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read (or reread) and loved this month!

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 26th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because i don’t want this to be too long!

—

✰ you fold into me like a beating heart by @lil0 / theweightofmywords | 2k

He’s scrolling through his phone as this nervous energy consumes him. He feels like he’s on the edge of something. If he falls, he doesn’t think he’d ever make it back. He catches himself staring at his weather app. It’s sunny where his ex is.

It’s sunny here too.

(this was so lovely and well-written! i’m honestly impressed with how much development and characterization and emotion was packed into less than 2k words! also i don’t want to spoil anything but there’s an element in this fic that finally plays out in the final sentence and i ADORED that! the last few paragraphs in general are just so perfect!)

✰ no one to blame (but the drink) by @femstyles | 3k 

Harry misses Louis. He knows Louis deserves better.

(this was so well-written and heart wrenching! i’m a sucker for fics where so much raw feeling is packed into smaller sizes and this is a perfect example! and exes to lovers, my kryptonite! it has more of an open ending but i loved it the little flicker of hope that it left the reader with!!)

✰ For You I’d Bleed Myself Dry by @allwaswell16​ | 4k

After a public and humiliating breakup, Louis Tomlinson finds himself on his would-be honeymoon with his best friend, Niall. However, this St. Lucian paradise is not all that it seems. Louis may be particularly vulnerable to an unusually handsome predator.

(one of the many vampire harry fics i read this month to get in the mood for writing my own! this one was so addicting and alluring- the air of mystery had me on the edge of my seat the entire time and the ENDING! it was vague and mysterious and PERFECT for the story!!!)

✰ Sugar Cube by @zanniscaramouche | 5k

Louis is fine. He knew this would happen. He knows. The beat up laptop stuffed under his mattress can attest to how much porn he’s watched and hell, he’s been on his knees in a piss stained alley for a few tenners. He’s not some scared blushing virgin.

Except. He kind of is.

(THIS. FIC. i was engrossed from start to finish and i genuinely cannot wait to read the full fic when the blff rolls around. the writing in this was exquisite- it evoked so much imagery and feeling in the reader and gosh, that ENDING! i can’t wait to find out what happens next!)

✰ Click by @allwaswell16 | 5k

When Louis got assigned a roommate, he wasn’t exactly thrilled, but as far as roommates go Marcel was a pretty good one. That was until Marcel started clicking a counter everywhere he went...

(i haven’t read very many marcel fics but i gave this one a shot and loved it! short and sweet and well-written! i loved the aspect of clicking too! it added an extra layer to the story! and of course, one can never go wrong with roommates to lovers!!) 

✰ take me to the stars by @lil0 / theweightofmywords | 6k 

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

(this fic was so adorable and soft! i had a smile on my face the entire time! i don’t read a lot of fics where h&l are parents that don’t include pre-pregnancy but this sounded so cute that i couldn’t resist and i’m glad i gave it a shot! it’s well-written and lovely just like all other of this writer’s fics!!)

✰ which is sweeter love or its loss by @doncasterkitten / patdkitten | 6k

After he catches his boyfriend cheating on him, Louis runs away from London and answers an ad to housesit an estate in the Yorkshire Moors while the mysterious owner is away. It's easy enough to forget about his problems when confronted with the routine that exists in a former abbey in the moors, when the only people around are a cat and the caretaker.

And then the mysterious owner returns.

(another vampire harry fic! i loved the writing and the atmosphere in this fic which felt so real and developed despite it being a shorter fic! i loved the louis and harry here and the added aspect of louis getting over being cheated on and trying to escape. the story had a very ambiguous/open ending that worked perfectly for the story!) 

✰ shine a light upon your ground by @ashleyjohnsonfanaccount / louizsv | 9k

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

(this author’s writing style is always so immersive and evocative and this fic is no exception! i’m honestly floored by how she managed to write this wonderful story in ONE DAY! the smut was hot and although i definitely pictured H as Harry the entire time, i loved the aspect of mystery in his identity and that the reader could choose to imagine him as whoever they wanted!)

✰ kiss me in your chevrolet by @lougendarey / cinnamons | 12k 

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

(i love roadtrip aus and this one was so cute and lovely! the * troubles - don’t want to spoil - added another layer of depth to the story and i really enjoyed that too! their relationship was so cute and i loved how supportive and lovely harry was to louis in this fic when he needed it :’) also the ENDING!! i’m a sucker for endings like that - again, don’t want to spoil - and this one was so cute, i had a giant smile on my face!!! remember to read tags!)

✰ A Vivid and Wistful Memory by @lwtisloved / MyEnglishRose | 13k 

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

(this was so adorable!!! i’ve been craving some more quarantine fics and this one delivered so well! i loved the aspect of violin and flute playing, writing songs together, the neighbors to friends to lovers, and of course i loved louis’ cat, Snowball <3 such a lovely story and so so heartwarming! highly recommend!)

✰ until this blood runs cold by @soldouthaz | 14k

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

(amazing, perfect, wonderful as always! sarah’s writing is like a breath of fresh air and this story was truly incredible! i loved the atmosphere and the uniqueness of louis and harry’s jobs - never read anything like it, that’s for sure - and i’m just a sucker for vampire harry in general but sarah’s is perfect <333)

note: this fic is part of a series of vampire fics/drabbles (all of which are completely separate!) titled love bites which sarah and i are doing together so check it out!!!)

✰ UN(RE)SOLVED by @daddyharrie | 21k 

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

Or, BuzzFeed Unsolved AU.

(i actually re-read this last month and forgot to talk about it - a TRAGEDY, I’M SORRY - but this is pretty much one of my favorite fics of this year and of all time, hands down. it’s not even that i’m a buzzfeed unsolved fan- this fic is just so??? good??? i’ve read it over five times and i never get tired of this version of harry and louis or the story or the humor. also jealous harry >>>) 

✰ your eyes of blue, your kisses too by @loubellies | 22k

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

or the murder in the alleyway.

(so good!!! mar has really outdone herself with this one! historical au + mystery + detective harry is pretty much a recipe to win me over and this took all of those things and combined them perfectly! it’s fast paced and atmospheric - love the 1920s setting for this fic - and engrossing! and the smut was hot hot HOT!)

✰ Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 | 38k 

Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

(this was so amazing and so heartwarming! i loved the relationship between louis and harry here and especially how supportive and wonderful harry was with louis and trying to learn how to communicate with him :’) reading this fic was so comforting, i can’t explain it. i just read it in one sitting while laying in bed and i had the dopiest smile on my face at some parts. i don’t normally read fics with no smut but this one was so worth it)

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees. by @daddyharrie​ | 45k

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

(i’ve already recced this fic on here a few months back but it’s recently been finished so i will be screaming about it again. another favorite of this year and favorite of all time. i’ve reread this fic over and over since it’s finished and i never get tired of it. i love these characters and this storyline (which is so unique and refreshing, honestly) so much. the setting also makes me feel nostalgic in the best way)

✰ Since I’ve Found You by @all-these-larrythings / Rearviewdreamer | 74k

Louis woke up on the morning he was meant to volunteer at the Feed the Homeless program at St. Mary's church hoping for an opportunity to give back a little to a city that has given him everything he could ever want. Little did he know, there was one more great thing waiting there for him; a boy with radiant green eyes in a weathered jacket and a beat-up backpack slung over his shoulders.

(THIS. FIC. it was so cute and amazing! i don’t get the chance to read a lot of longer fics as much as i want to but i somehow read this in one afternoon because i couldn’t put it down. it was so heartwarming and i loved the progression of their relationship and louis was so lovely and so was harry and ugh, it was so good! the ending made me emotional too <3)

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[im-bakugous-bitch]

Mezo Shoji - Quarantine (NSFW!!)  (bnharem collab!)

Hey guys, Sky here!  As I announced the other day, I am participating in the bnharem discord server collab event!  Our topic was being quarantined together and things get kinky, and I ended up with everyone’s favorite arm man.  I really enjoyed writing this and I think it’s the best thing I’ve written in a while - but not the best of the bunch!  You can read the rest of the collab pieces for different characters here!  I hope you guys like it!

Kinks included are: Role-Play, Bondage, Edging/Orgasm Denial, Masturbation, and Biting

The world had been launched into chaos.

With the novel coronavirus, COVID-19 going around, people were in a panic.  Stores were closing, restaurants were closing, and everybody was told to go into quarantine for two weeks.  Even your boyfriend was told to stop doing his daily patrols; Only the more experienced Heroes were patrolling the empty streets of Japan.  

As soon as the quarantine had been announced, you ran to the local department store to stock up on items you and Mezo would need for the next two weeks.  There was hardly anything there, though, as you had gotten there rather late.  You sighed, picking up the few frozen toaster pizzas and boxes of gluten-free pasta that were left on the shelves.

You had no idea what you were going to do for the entire quarantine.  You were excited to be spending so much time with your boyfriend, but you knew you were both going to get bored of just sitting on the couch watching movies all day long.  

You began to browse the other sections of the store until you hit the clothing section.  You spotted a blue dress, the same colors as Mezo's Hero costume.  You walked over to it and examined it, grinning as you noticed the very low cut and short skirt.  You checked the rack for your size and grinned when you found it, throwing the dress into your shopping cart.

You knew exactly what you and Mezo would be doing.

~~~~~     ~~~~~     ~~~~~     ~~~~~     ~~~~~

It took two days until you got tired of watching movies on the couch.

You'd honestly thought it would have lasted longer, but by the time you were on the tenth movie of your quarantine you were going to scream if you had to watch one more opening sequence.  You decided it was time to break out your present for Mezo and excused yourself to your bedroom to get an extra blanket.

You pulled the bag with your outfit in it from the back of your closet and raced into the bathroom attached to your bedroom.  You locked the bathroom door before beginning your work; Shaving your legs, brushing and styling your hair, make up, etc.  Once you were ready, you picked up the bag with the clothes as a knock echoed through the bathroom.

"y/n?" Mezo asked from the other side of the door.  "Are you alright in there?"

"All good," you said as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, a smile creeping across your face.  "I'll be out shortly!"  You opened the bag and first took out the fishnet tights you'd bought, taking off your underwear before putting them on.  The cool March air made your exposed area feel cold, and the wetness already pooling within you was not helping.  

Next you slipped on the dress.  It was a simple dress: Skin tight, off-the-shoulder, blue on the top that slowly turned into a black at the bottom.  Once you had it on you turned to look at yourself in the mirror and saw that the dress just barely even covered your ass.  You smirked before putting on the final article; knee-high black boots.  

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, making final adjustments to your hair before you reached for the doorknob.  You unlocked it and slowly turned the doorknob, only pushing the door open slightly.  You poked your head out of the doorway to see Mezo laying on your bed, watching the television.  "Babe," you said, but immediately retracted your head before he could see you.

"y/n?" he asked, and you noted the worried tone in his voice.  "You've been in there a long time, is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," you said, hand gripping the doorknob tightly.  "Just close your eyes for a second, okay?"

You could hear the hesitation in his "okay", but believed him as you opened the door all the way.  You stood in the doorway with your hands on your hips, finally exposing your whole body to the room.  

"You can look now."

His eyes opened and turned to you, quickly widening when he saw what you were wearing.  He practically jumped up off the edge of the bed and ran over to you.  "y/n?!"

You shook your head as you reached your arms up to hang around his neck.  "There's no y/n here, Tentacole.  I'm your new sidekick, Desire.  Didn't the agency tell you I was coming?"  You furrowed your eyebrow and cocked your head to the side in confusion as you looked up at him.

He took a deep breath.  "y/n, I'm gonna be cumming if you don't-"

"Shh," you said, moving one of your hands from around his neck to cover his lips over his scarf.  "I don't know who this y/n is, Tentacole, but I'm sure she'd want you to enjoy yourself.  Unless..."  You pulled your arms away from him and took a step back, making a pouty-face as you looked at the ground and used one of your hands to grab the opposite arm.  "Unless...You don't want me...?"

Within a second, he was upon you.  Hisips crashed against yours, real hands cradling your cheeks while his dupli-arms pulled you closer to him.  He pressed his crotch against your leg to show you how big of a boner he had.  

"See what you've done, Desire?"  One of his dupli-arms had formed a mouth, and it was whispering directly into your ear.  "It's never good to upset the Pro on the first day, you better take care of this."

You grinned as you looked up at him.  "Oh, I was planning to."  You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, noticing that his scarf had already been discarded.  You connected your lips to his as his hands landed on your nearly-bare ass, squeezing it ever-so-slightly.  

"Jump," he whispered against your lips.

You did as instructed and jumped up, wrapping your legs around him as he pushed you against the wall.  Two of his dupli-arms had formed mouths and began attacking both sides of your neck, sucking and biting on all of the exposed skin.  Your eyes fluttered closed as your head leaned back, you could've finished just from that.

He started grinding his crotch against yours, pushing you into the wall.  "Who's a naughty little sidekick, getting me all worked up on the first day?" he growled as his dupli-arms began pulling the sleeves of your dress down.  "Huh?  Who do you think you are, getting me bothered like this?"  He pressed you against the wall harder, you could practically feel his dick against your slit through his thin pants.

"My apologies," you gasped out as your eyes opened up to look at him.  "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Tenta-cole!"  Your tone jumped in surprise when you felt something pinching your ass, and turned to see he had a dupli-arm with a mouth on it right next to the afflicted area.  The pattern of your tights had been ripped open.  You didn't know what he'd just done, but it felt so good you wanted him to do it again.  "Do that again," you panted into his shoulder.  

He smirked and pulled you away from the wall, still keeping you on his waist.  "You liked that, huh?"  You looked down at your ass and watched as the dupli-mouth bit down on your ass, moaning quietly as it began to suck on and lick the skin.

"Ah-" you moaned as you ground your hips against his to create some friction.  "Ah, if you keep doing that-"

Your sentence was interrupted when you went flying through the air and landed on your bed.  You sat up with wide eyes, watching Mezo as he towered over you and licked his lips.  

"You'll have to be punished, Desire," he said as his hand rested on your lower calf.  His hand slowly slid up your leg as he crawled onto the bed, until he reached the hem of your dress.  Directly above the spot where you desperately needed him.  You reached for his hand and grabbed his arm, trying to pull it down to where you needed him, but he proved stronger than you in holding his arm in place as he shook his head.

"That won't do," he said as he pulled back from you and got off the bed, walking over to his closet.  He opened it up and pulled out two neck ties as he grinned at you.  "Naughty girls don't get to use their hands."

Your eyes widened as he approached you again, grabbing your hands and tying them to the bed-frame so you couldn't move them.

"Mez-Tentacole," you whined as you struggled against your restraints.  "Don't do this."

He lifted his shirt over his head and deposited it on the floor behind himself as he crawled back over you.  "You're being punished, Desire," he growled as his dupli-mouths went back to work on both sides of your neck.

You groaned and pushed your hips upward, just wanting him to pay attention down there.  You watched as he lifted himself above you and slid his pants and underwear off, so he was completely naked above you.  "Tent-oh-cole!" you cried out as one of the mouths bit down extra hard on a certain spot.  "Oh, oh please - fuck me!  Punish me!  I've been a bad sidekick!"

He chuckled above you, staring down at you with lust-filled black eyes.  "Yes, you have," he said as the mouths retracted from your neck.  "And you will be punished."  He grabbed the hem of your dress again, flipping the skirt up so it sat over your chest.  He pressed his face into your crotch, against the fishnets, and hummed lightly as he gave your slit the tiniest lick.

You pulled against your restraints with all of your strength, just wanting to push him harder against you, but to no avail.  You instead watched as he pulled his face from your crotch and smirked.  

"You're already so wet for me," he said as he took the waistband of the tights in his hands and pulled them down your legs.  Once they were discarded, he placed himself between your legs and looked into your eyes.  "You tell me when you're going to cum, you hear me?  I'm your boss, that's your order."

You nodded, breathing heavily and excited at the idea of finally getting some action down there.  "Yes - Yes sir," you gasped out.

His head ducked back down between your legs, taking your clit between his lips.  Your head fell back against the pillows as you pushed your crotch closer to his face, trying to get him to suck it harder.  He got the message and obliged, using his hands to grab your ass and pull you as close to his face as he could.  You let out a loud moan, pulling yet again at your restraints as you wanted nothing more than to push him even closer.

With your closed eyes, you didn't know he was inserting something into your cunt until you felt it.  You opened your eyes, straining to see what he was now pushing in and out of you so rapidly.  You couldn't get a good look at it, though you weren't too focused on it.

You felt it coming.  You felt that familiar coil inside of you getting ready to snap.  "Ah, I'm so close-" you moaned out, hoping that would encourage him to go harder and bring you to orgasam.

Instead, he stopped.

He pulled his face away from you and watched your eyes widen as he licked his lips.  "You're being punished," he reminded you as he sat up on the bed and readjusted himself so his dick smacked against his stomach.  He began pumping his dick with one hand, the other gripping onto your leg so tightly you knew there were going to be marks on it.

"You dirty, naughty girl," he panted as his eyes shut, fist moving faster around his dick.  

"That's no fair!" you yelled as you tried to sit up, but your restraints didn't allow you to.  You could already feel your impending orgasm dying down, and a stronger hunger filled you as you watched Mezo pleasure himself.  

He didn't respond to you, his head leaning back as a dupli-arm began to fondle his balls.  "Oh, y/-Desire!"  You could tell he was already so close.  "Baby let me help you-"

"No," he cut you off.  "You're being punished.  You're lucky you even get to watch."  

You watched, helpless as your cunt throbbed with every stroke of his hand.  When he finished, he moved his hand up to your mouth.  

"Lick it clean," he said in the sexiest, most commanding tone you'd ever heard from him.

You nodded and took his fingers into your mouth, sucking them each clean before you licked his palm and swallowed it all.  "Please, Tentacole, can you please fuck me now?"

He smirked and shook his head, returning to his place between your legs.  He took up the same exact position as before, hands pulling your ass closer to his face as he shoved something in and out of your cunt.  Your eyes closed yet again as you laid your head back, imagining it was his dick that was filling you up.  You imagined him hovering over you, sweat pouring down both of your bodies, your hands clawing down his back-

"Ah-!" you cried out, and he immediately pulled away again.  You were about ready to smack him across the face.  "Please, please stop," you begged as your eyes met his.  "Please, Tentacole, please make me cum."

He climbed further up your body, giving no warning before shoving his dick deep into your cunt.  He didn't move a muscle as his eyes locked with yours.

He bent his head down to capture your lips with his in a surprisingly gentle kiss.  When he pulled away his face hovered only inches above yours, a loving smile on his face.  "I love you so much.  You're so perfect."

You smiled back up at him.  "Then untie my hands.  Please, let me touch you."

His malicious smirk came back, and you knew the moment was over.  He began to move inside of you, pulling almost all the way out before slamming himself back into you.  You screamed at the sensation, moving your hips with his as he finally gave you the fucking you'd been dying for.  

You pulled at your restraints again, and to your surprise the knots gave in.  A huge grin broke out across your entire face as your arms flew around Shoji's neck, sitting both of you up as he continued pounding your cunt like a piece of meat.  He didn't say anything as you connected your lips to his, digging your fingernails into his back and clawing your way downward as he kept going.  Once you'd reached the bottom and were sure you were going to leave a bright red mark, you quickly readjusted yourself so you were sitting over him.  

You pushed him back against the bed, your hands gripping the sheets on either side of his waist as you bounced up and down on his cock.

"Ah baby that feels so good," he groaned as he thrusted up to meet your thrusts.  "I'm not gonna last much longer."

You thought about denying him his orgasm like he'd been doing to you, but that would just deny you of yet another.  You decided to let him have it as a dupli-arm rose up to your breasts, forming a mouth and going below the neckline of the dress you were still wearing to attach to one of your nipples.  You gasped, causing another to quickly follow and attach to your other nipple as something began rubbing against your clit.

"Baby I'm gonna cum!" you yelled as your thrusting became sloppier and sloppier until he switched back to your previous position, him pounding into you with your back arched against the bed.

With only a couple more thrusts you felt him release into you.  You moaned loudly, you were so close-

It washed over you as soon as you felt the bite on your ass.

You rode out your orgasm before dropping yourself down onto Mezo, not bothering to wipe off any of the sweat that was pooling all over both of you.  You laid like that for a while, both of you panting and sticky as you caught your breath.

"Where did that come from?" Mezo finally asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

You turned over so you were laying on your stomach, staring up into his eyes.  "Not sure.  I saw the dress at the store, figured it would be a good quarantine activity."

He smiled, planting a light kiss on the top of your head.  "It definitely was."  He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tightly against him.  "I think that was the best sex we've ever had."

You giggled as you nodded and leaned up to connect your lips with his.  The kiss was abruptly ended when you yelped, realizing Shoji had used a dupli-mouth to bite your ass again.

"Round two?" he asked.

You smiled and blushed slightly as you nodded.  "I'll meet you in the shower."

[vlker]

- writeblr introduction.

introduction

i’m volker, although i’m usually know by the name of lui. i’m a twenty-three year old english literature and creative writing student from denmark who uses she/her pronouns. 

although i have been writing since i was nothing more than a barely functioning living human organism in a sweater, i only began to write in english creatively about four years ago - and started reading non-academic works around the same time. 

writing preferences

for the most part, i enjoy exploring the human condition through my writing. i am particularly interested in the human psyche, familial relationships, identity and the grey areas found within the traditional concept of good versus evil. as such, i greatly favour the genres of horror and dystopia; however, i do also thoroughly enjoy historical fiction as well as contemporary fiction and fantasy. poetry is another craft that i greatly admire, though, as a poet myself, i have the emotional depth of a fanta’s bottlecap. 

i love lyrical writing, lists, specificity and what @coffeeandcalligraphy so brilliantly called the ‘emma cline’. i also absolutely adore dark writing and very present, on-the-nose type of writing. 

current writing projects

an unnamed collection of dystopian short stories: part one

a series of short stories all of which take place in a world where the sun has died. each story is exploring the experiences of this same world through each of the characters in vastly different scenarios.

the collection largely deals with questions of identity, sexuality, religion, sacrifices and pushing boundaries. as this is a project for my module on short stories due in january, i will likely be limited in which stories are shared up until the project has received its final grading (due to issues of plagiarism). however, current, the collection includes:

examination deals with the pressure students face on an academic level in today’s society, pushing it to an extreme by making it a question of survival and exploring themes of grief and death.

extermination revolves around a couple who face pressure as every group deemed ‘unprofitable’ or ‘expendable’ is effectively sentence to death as the world runs low on resources.

redemption explores question of religion and identity as the main character stands at odds with her sister’s religion, familial obligations and her own survival instinct.

another unnamed collection of dystopian short stories: part two

for my main creative writing module, i am producing a sequel to my project mentioned above. a slightly uninspired concept? perhaps. it is what happens after seven cups of coffee and giving into a ‘nothing truly matters anyway, just write the bloody proposal’ mentality. 

anyway, this collection, like the first, is a dystopian collection in which each of the stories take place in the same world. it experiments with the line between poetry and prose, and further explores identity and sexuality as well as repression, particularly repression through language.

following a world war, the world has been left in ruins and as society rebuilds, pillars of humanity crumbles under a new tyrannical rule.

project m.

this is the placeholder name of the novel i am currently working on. it is a fantasy novel revolving around the return of a experimental form of magic that was outlawed and subsequently went extinct after a group of the founder’s scholars used it in an attempt to rise to power. 

the main character, a retired botanist named charlie, receives a request from the ministry to make contact with one of the rumoured practitioners and infiltrate their headquarters to determine the severity of the threat and confirm any rumours. during his stay, he meets the highly controversial and slightly unhinged terrance, who greatly complicates every aspect of his assignment.

i am extremely excited, albeit my ability to put my ideas into words is currently big fat struggling - but, on a more positive note, it has rekindled my love for writing and reminded me to write for the joy of it.  

(i’m an expert at names, as is evident above. the day any of my work is blessed by a title may just be the beginning of the end of the world.)

admiration 

i’m not sure whether this is traditional for an introduction but it is here regardless of convention. i wanted to mention some people i truly admire in this community because i have only ever done so from afar the past week: 

@coffeeandcalligraphy

@alicewestwater

@august-iswriting

@shaelinwrites

your creativity, innovation, style and efforts are greatly appreciated. your work is incredibly inspiring, so this is just a small thank you. thank you for helping me to remember the joys of writing.  

[vivelareine]

Down the ‘Hameau de la reine’ Wikipedia rabbit hole...

aka: “How I procrastinated on doing other things by hyperfixating on a paragraph on Wikipedia for 2 weeks.”

So, if you’ve ever wandered over to the Wikipedia page for the Hameau de la Reine, you’ve probably noticed that it contains the familiar “she dressed as a shepherdess and masqueraded herself as a peasant” myth.

This particular paragraph on the Wikipedia page stands out because it has been used repeatedly on various social sites (twitter, reddit, etc) and in some cases garners hundreds or even thousands of comments about the behavior the article is attributing to her:

“While still in power, Marie Antoinette enjoyed acting as a tableau vivant, as if she were part of a painting. She brought her idyllic, picturesque village to life by stocking the barn with animals, and bringing in "simple" people, such as milkmaids and herdsmen, to act like residents of the Hamlet. Marie Antoinette would stroll around her perfect world in simple peasants' garb with her children, part of an idealized Nature. Her closest friends joined her in her ornamental village, where they also enjoyed pretending to live a simple life. Their isolation at the Hameau caused suspicion among the French people. Already resentful of Marie Antoinette for her profligate spending in times of economic depression, the secrecy surrounding her life of amusement led to suspected hedonism and scandal.(1)”

The last sentence is the only one footnoted in this entire paragraph, and I was curious as to what exactly was being said in the book used as evidence for this particular section. The book in question, according to the Wikipedia notes, is: Pérouse de Montclos, Jean-Marie. Versailles. Trans. John Goodman. Paris: Abbeville, 1991 

I couldn’t find a digital version (not surprising for a coffee table book published in 1991!) so I found a used copy for $4 on ebay, snapped it up, and received my copy in the mail this morning.

The book only contains 2 short paragraphs about Marie Antoinette, plus a quote from a 19th century book.

Is the information footnoted present in the book? Yes! And no. And the book should definitely not be used as a footnote for this information.

Placing the rest of this under a Keep Reading for people on the dashboard! This got really long and is just me rambling about my findings, tbh.

Click “Keep Reading” to... Keep Reading!

First: Nowhere in the book do they mention anything resembling “already resentful of Marie Antoinette for her profligate spending in times of economic depression, the secrecy surrounding her life of amusement led to suspected hedonism and scandal.” The information is true--the hameau’s secrecy and Marie Antoinette’s visible spending did lead to widespread rumors. It’s just not mentioned in this book.

But now for the meatier element...

Some (but not all) of the information about ‘life at the hameau’ does actually come from this book.... but using the book as a basis for a description of life at the hameau (and footnoting this book for it) is misleading at best.

The text from the author of ‘Versailles’ actually argues against the traditional view of the hameau as a faux village. The text written by the author says that “this complex has acquired the dubious reputation of being a kind of operetta version of a small village .... the buildings intended for the queen’s use must be judged as precious and artificial, for behind their rustic exteriors were rooms worthy of the small Trianon. But the service buildings and working farm were more accurately conceived than has generally been realized.”

and

“[The hameau] is widely believed to have been  a kind of operetta version of a small village, but this reputation is unwarranted...”

The “lifestyle” information from Wikipedia is not taken from the book itself, meaning the author’s text. It’s actually derived from a quote blurb included above a photograph. The quote was translated from ‘Souvenirs d'un médecin de Paris,’ 1847 by François Louis Poumies De La Siboutie.

Reproduced here:

Siboutie, born in 1793, was a well-respected physician who--after breaking his knee, causing him to reflect on his breakneck pace of working--decided to travel extensively, keep a journal with notes, and then write memoirs based on his experiences.

His book contains countless anecdotes about history, his travels, and experiences etc. He is one of the many people during this time period to publish memoirs relating extensively to the Revolution. He relates many anecdotes about seeking out various people who played roles, large and small, in the final years of the ancien regime and subsequent revolution. He claims to talk to men who tried to save Robespierre, a woman who witnessed Marie Antoinette’s execution, and even claimed to visit Zamor and witness the man burst into tears when he was reminded of testifying against Madame du Barry.

Whether these anecdotes are true or not is... well, inconclusive. Siboutie was known to be a seeker of people with notoriety and fame, and he donated an extensive collection of autographs to the Archives nationales before his death, sparking the response that he must have known ‘many little secrets.’ It’s not impossible to believe that someone who specifically admitted to wanting to be around famous figures might seek them out and get enough information for his anecdotes.

However, in regards to the hameau description: Siboutie was not a historian and was merely relating anecdotes he’d heard about the hameau. He was not an eyewitness to life at the hameau and he wasn’t even quoting a conversation someone had with him about the hameau, as he does for other anecdotes. He merely relates what seems to be the popular image of the hameau at the time. By 1847, then, we can see the “faux peasant” style myth is already in full swing.

(Note: He also wrote that in 1847, the hameau was in a state of ‘complete degradation’ and that ‘in a few years, all these houses will have disappeared, and only the memory will remain.’ Thank goodness for the restoration work that was done within the next decade or so.)

I also noticed that the text from the ‘Versailles’ author actually directly contradicts Siboutie’s included quote--not just in the assertion that the traditional view of the hameau needs to be reevaluated, but dismissing the notion of the 19th century names of the buildings which Siboutie uses:

“In assessing the accuracy of this view, we should begin by jettisoning the names assigned to these structures in the ninteenth century (lord’s house, mayor’s house, vicarage, etc)...”

Using a quote from Siboutie (someone relating anecdotes in 1846 and not even claiming to have heard this information from a contemporary) as evidence for anything about the real activities of the hameau is insufficient for basic scholarship.

The fact that the footnote used to source the information in the Wikipedia paragraph leads to a book which 1) does not contain author-derived text confirming the information and 2) directly contradicts the quote blurb used as the basis for the Wikipedia paragraph is a frustrating example of why it’s important not to base what you know on Wikipedia articles--even if they’re sourced. If something seems off, research the sources. You’d be surprised at what you might find. (Or at what you might buy, on impulse, on ebay just to find out what was going on with a Wikipedia footnote.)

Fittingly enough, one of the links provided for more information at the bottom of the Wikipedia page leads to the official Chateau de Versailles description of the hameau:

“Contrary to the deeply-entrenched public image of Marie-Antoinette, the queen and her entourage did not “play at being farmers” amidst these bucolic surroundings, complete with sheep trussed up in ribbons. The queen actually used the hamlet as a place for relaxing walks, or to host small gatherings. The fact that the hamlet was also a functioning farm, a point upon which the queen insisted, meant that it served an educational role for the royal children.”

[twiceblackvelvet]

One Night Stand

A/N; someone requested this but for some reason i can’t find the ask in my drafts among all of the other requests but hopefully they find it anyway. enjoy me writing way more than i expected and ending things on an open note in case people become interested and i get to write a second part.

Nights like these very rarely happen. In fact, they never do. Usually, you’d be sat at home with a glass of wine, binge-watching yet another drama, and stuffing your face with whichever snacks you could find in the cupboards. An unhealthy combination, sure. But it’s what comforts you the most after spending way too long dealing with people during the day. 

But tonight, your friends have practically dragged you out of the pit you’ve created in the middle of your sofa that you tried endlessly to convince them had not in fact molded to the shape of your body, it just looks like that naturally. Apparently, a new bar opening offering free entry is enough reason for you to break your usual habits and let your hair down instead.

It’s been so long since the last time you went out to a nightclub that you’d forgotten how much work goes into just getting there and looking somewhat acceptable. Spending hours on end searching through your closet for a dress that you had been told must cling to your skin and not look like something a librarian would wear. 

Maybe, it’s just time to get some new friends who won’t rip your everyday style to shreds for a quick laugh. 

You’re not even sure why you agreed, really. The thought of drunken slobs throwing themselves all over anyone within proximity in the hopes of getting lucky at the end of the night is not something you’ve ever found appealing, thus, you’re yet to gain your one-night stand card. Not that such a thing exists, but according to numerous sources, or rather just all of your friends it’s an important step in the life of an adult. You’d rather keep both feet firmly outside of that circle and never dip your toes into the daunting pool of regret and possible after-effects of bedding a complete stranger. 

Despite the lingering feeling deep down that this night would not end well, after a few pre-drinks to get you in the mood, excitement soon washes away any worries. Even the one’s telling you that you’d likely spend half the night pulling your friends away from anyone they find attractive only because they’re wearing beer goggles.

Stepping out of the cab and into the cold night air makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and brings about your first regret. The short black dress you decided upon makes it impossible for your body to find any warmth as you walk toward the queue hovering outside waiting to get inside. It’s shorter than you expected, which you’re all grateful for but there’s still a good amount of people there.

After a few minutes of pacing on the spot, your teeth have begun to chatter and the alcohol that had previously warmed you up has started to lose its effect. 

“How long until we’re in?” You decide to ask, aimed at no one in particular, just hoping for a positive answer from anyone that the cold suffering will end soon.

“It’ll be about ten more minutes babe, don’t worry.” One of your friends shouts from behind you. The loud music from inside blaring out into the street makes it impossible for you to know which, you’re just grateful it’s not going to be too long before you can get inside and feel warmth once again. 

Bodies begin to shuffle closer towards the door and soon two burly men dressed head to toe in black come into sight, the words security plastered across one side of their chest. One of them, more muscular than the other and with a far more intimidating face places his meaty hand upright in front of you to pause the steady flow of patrons being allowed inside. 

“Do you have any identification?” The smaller of the two men who now that you’re closer is in fact still huge in comparison to you croaks out, his voice not matching his appearance. You notice he has a cut above his eye, likely from someone drunkenly thinking it’s a good idea to fight the hulk’s cousin after one too many. 

Your hands roam around inside the small clutch bag you’d decided upon pairing with your outfit and pull out your driver's license and point it towards both of them. They eye it suspiciously, but you can see the cogs in their heads quickly trying to decipher whether your year of birth makes you legal to enter or not.

“Great, thanks. Go right ahead.” The larger man speaks and ushers you toward the door. 

Before stepping inside, you turn in place to face your friends who are also being inspected head to toe. A strong breeze gusts past all of you and without thinking too much about upsetting them, you walk in alone and leave your friends to the freezing weather. You quickly holler that you’ll meet them inside, but it’s unlikely that they heard it. 

Walking through an extra set of doors, you’re greeted by a dark interior with painted black walls,  a bar placed dead in the center of the room with low lighting hung above it. Red seats line the counter and one half of the room and your feet move without you thinking about it towards one of them. The other half is an open dance floor full of people moving along to the music, some less on the beat than others but they’re trying. 

A small woman, no taller than 5’2 with brown short hair appears out of nowhere in front of you, a sharp smile placed on her face which you easily recognize as the fake customer service greeting she’s likely learned from years of experience handling people in an intoxicated state.

“Hey! What can I get you?” Her voice is soft, too soft to be working in this kind of environment.

You decide to look further down the bar at some of the other people seated next to you and spot a woman holding a glass filled with a light blue liquid. Truthfully, it looks like something you’d clean your kitchen floor with, but it’s calling out to you for some reason. 

“I’ll have whatever that is.” You point toward the girl and the bartender gives a quick nod before heading off to pour the potentially poisonous concoction you’ve just ordered on a whim. 

As you watch a couple of people throw down some moves that would be acceptable if they were from a five-year-old child, not a grown adult, small hands wrap around your waist that startles you for a second until you come face to face with your friends who’ve finally made it past the two roadblocks patrolling the doors.

“Here you are, this place is nice, right? Have you gotten a drink yet?” 

“Yeah, I just ord-” 

Before you can finish your sentence, the bartender returns and places the drink down in front of you. 

“The first one is on the house, have a good night!” Her words are far more excited than previously, probably more than they should be for someone offering out drinks for free during opening night. Part of you wonders if this is her way of flirting or maybe just hoping for some extra tips.

“Thanks for the offer, really but I’ll pay, I’m not looking to date anyone right now and you’re not my type, sorry.” 

Her eyes widen the more you speak and you realize that perhaps you’re the one who is in fact sat in the very wrong tree and barking like an idiot.

“I’m one of the owners here, the flyer outside says the first drink is free for everyone. Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I don’t swing your way.” 

She’s already turned around on the heel of her foot before you can force out an apology. However, her swift exit doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up and a mild headache from forming out of embarrassment. Your friends’ laughter all around you isn’t helping the situation either. 

“Next time, maybe save that for someone who bats for your own team.” A husky voice from beside where you’re seated speaks lowly into your ear. 

As you swing your chair quickly to face where the words came from, all you find is flowing brown hair trailing off toward the dance floor. You watch the body strut away, and by watching, you definitely saw something far more appealing than a kind yet uninterested bar owner. Her hips sway casually as she floats in between several bodies moving to the music and enters the bathroom without waiting in the line formed outside of the door. 

A few angry customers shout after the girl, but she doesn’t bother to listen to their calls informing her of the queue. Whoever she is, her attitude is one of not caring about anything other than herself. Usually, this would be a major red flag under any other circumstances, but something is drawing you towards her even though you have no idea who she is or what she looks like other than her back profile. 

Your friends order their drinks one after the other, all of which is a cocktail of sorts that will definitely cause the world’s worst hangover for each of them individually, however, that’s their problem. The lights near the dance floor quickly change colors to strobe blindingly through the crowd that’s formed, drinks have been spilled already causing some already inebriated bodies to crash land on the ground only to rise up once more to sway from one side to another. 

You can’t help yourself from watching the bathroom door every few moments, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman and confirm whether she’s everything you’ve managed to imagine in the few moments since she decided to teasingly whisper into your ear. But, the line outside quickly moves and disappears meaning she has already left and you’ve missed it. 

Before you know it, several hours have passed, numerous drinks have infiltrated your liver and your sight has become less and less able to make out whether the person in front of you is that close or if they’re actually halfway across the room. Your body has been dragged to the center of the dancefloor and whilst you are trying to keep up with the rhythm of the music, your loose limbs have a mind of their own and sure enough, you too end up looking like an inflatable tube blowing in the wind in any direction you decide to throw it. 

At least two of your friends have decided that ramming their tongues down someone’s throat is a far better way to spend their time. You’re strangely quite envious of them.

Just as you’re about to stagger off back to the bar to relieve your throat of the dryness that has formed and maybe rid yourself of some of the sweat you’re unsure of which belongs to you or someone else, a hand slides it’s way around your waist and pulls you backward. Your body now pressed against another in a tight embrace that had you been sober you’d struggle to get out of, however, in this state, it’s even more difficult to break free.

“Why didn’t you follow me?” 

When the words hit your ears, you recognize the voice from earlier and a cold shudder settles itself throughout your spine. The mystery woman has somehow managed to find you amongst the full capacity crowd whilst you couldn’t even keep up with her in the midst of a small bathroom queue. The teasing tone still there but her husky voice now replaced with a more hoarse yet sultry one.

Without even thinking about it, you force your body further into her own and spin around all at the same time. Turns out, that was a mistake as it sends both of you flying toward the ground at a pace that makes it impossible for either of you to break your fall. You may not have gotten to see her face previously but in your current position of laying on top of her, you’re now offered a close up to what your drunken mind can only describe as perfection. 

Her wide eyes bore into your own, they’re a dark shade of brown and intensely eye you the same way in which you’re doing to her before quickly flitting toward your lips for a split second. Your own eyes can’t help but do the exact same to her in return. Pink plump lips that are daring you to take them in with your own, but you manage to resist, or rather, she pushes you upward and stands before helping you off the ground too. 

She’s taller than you first thought. A loosely fitted blazer covers a black crop top that lies just above an abdomen that threatens to bring tears to your eyes from how toned it is. Dark pants tightly hug her long legs that you’re sure would look better without the material hiding them. You’re having difficulty removing your eyes from her magnetic form when she cups your chin and raises it so she can meet your eyes once more.

“You didn’t answer me.” She says sternly this time. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to follow you.” No thought goes into your response, you’re simply on auto-pilot mode and hoping she doesn’t vanish once more. 

“Well, I did. But, your loss.” 

She begins to stride away, once again. However, your arm flies out and grasps hold of her wrist before she can escape. Despite having way too much to drink, your strength still exists for a split second as her body ends up bumping into your own, hips clashing with one another.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“Who are you?” 

The airy way in which the question leaves your mouth makes it sound like you’re asking something far more prophetic, or as if you’re expecting her to give you her life story in the middle of a packed nightclub. Truthfully, you’re just after a name. 

“Come with me.” Her words should be a question, instead, they sound like a command and you’re helpless to it as you trail behind her without worrying about the consequences or thinking about what it is you’re going through with. Placing in your trust in someone like this is not something you’d ever dare to do previously, but this feels right, somehow.

The two of you step outside of the club, her strides are way too quick for you to keep up with as she wanders down the street away from the loud music and your friends who you’re quickly trying to type out a text message to tell them not to send out a search party for you, though, you still don’t even know this girl’s name so perhaps that isn’t the smartest idea. You send it anyway and hope your blind faith in this godly woman who keeps checking you’re still behind her every few seconds is correct.

Her arm raises at the end of the street and a car pulls up. Everything about this feels wrong, yet, you get inside the vehicle with her anyway. 

“Sooyoung.” She bluntly states. The confusion your face makes it obvious that you have no idea why she’s saying this suddenly. “My name… is Sooyoung.” 

It could just be the alcohol talking, but you’re sure that it is the prettiest name to exist. 

“Do you have one? Or am I supposed to guess?” She follows up after watching you mouth her own, something you hadn’t even realized you’d been doing. You quickly slur out your name that makes it only barely comprehensible and Sooyoung just chuckles in response.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh yourself when you consider your thoughts earlier in the night about your entire crisis of still clutching tightly onto your one-night-stand card and how this complete stranger in front of you is about to snatch it away, no doubt.

“What’s so funny?” The teasing tone is back in place as one of Sooyoung’s hands rests carefully atop your thigh. Her hand is cold yet despite only just finding out her name, you feel safe with her placing it there. It feels like she’s trying to steady you with it.

“Nothing, I’ve just never done this before.” 

“You’ve never used Uber?” She cocks one of her eyebrows as she looks at you with an amused smirk. 

“Very funny.” 

Her face straightens out and turns serious for the first time since you’ve been graced with looking at it. You can tell she’s thinking about something but unsure of whether or not to speak it into existence. The ability to read people so far hasn’t disappeared no matter how much tequila you’ve consumed. 

“I guess you meant it when you said that Haseul wasn’t your type.” She quietly lets out after a few moments. She spots the confusion once more and continues. “The bartender, her name is Haseul. You told her she wasn’t your type.”

“Oh, no. She definitely is my type. I just… wait, what exactly do you think I meant by saying I’ve never done this before?”

Now it’s Sooyoung’s turn to feel lost by the conversation as she tries to decipher where things have gotten lost in translation between you both.

“Well, girls. You didn’t pick up on me wanting you to follow me and now you’re telling me on my way back to my place you’ve never done this before. I’m assuming that your usual type is the two meatheads working the door stopping people from smashing the bar up.” 

Loud laughter fills the small space of the car. The driver even looks into his rearview mirror to see what is so funny that you’re doubled over in pain from Sooyoung’s assumption. 

“Oh that’s good. You know, trying to take a straight girl’s home is a massive stereotype.” You’re not sure if the look you’re receiving from Sooyoung is of her being offended or still lost. “I didn’t mean I’ve never slept with a girl before. I meant I’ve never gone home with someone that I just met hours before.”

Everything suddenly clicks into place for both of you and Sooyoung bites her lower lip, likely feeling that same embarrassment that you did earlier with the woman you now know is named Haseul.

“I didn’t think you were straight, by the way. That’s not why you’re here with me. I just assumed from what you said.” 

The two of you continue to laugh at just how crossed you’ve managed to get the wires in the few minutes you’ve been traveling towards her home which was longer than you thought as soon enough, the driver is pulling up and asking you both to leave a good review. Sooyoung politely tells him that she will before helping you out of the car.

Had you known that going back to Sooyoung’s apartment meant that you had to conquer stairs, you may have turned her down. Well, you wouldn’t have because she’s the personification of flawless. But you’d have prepared your legs to feel less like jelly and more capable of completing the trek up to her front door.

She slides a set of keys out of her blazer and opens the front door inviting you to step in first. You do and are greeted by a  space with hardly any furniture. Sparse is the only word that fits her home. Anyone with a knack for home design would have a field day if they were to be welcomed in too. 

“I know, it’s not much. I just moved here from the city and I haven’t had time to finish decorating.” 

All thoughts about how Sooyoung could still be a serial killer who has lured you away from your friends to her apartment that is lacking any form of personal touch evaporates with her explanation. You set yourself a mental reminder to never drink whatever that blue liquid was again, it makes you feel way too trusting.

You move further into the apartment and see that it’s spacious and open planned. The kitchen is well lit with brand new appliances that look like they’ve yet to be used. A television far bigger than the one you own sits on the wall of the living room. Sooyoung sits casually on one of the two white leather sofas as she plays with the remote and turns it on to a music channel. A door blocks off both the left and right side of the apartment, likely leading to a bedroom and bathroom. 

“You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.” Sooyoung pats the space beside her as she speaks. “Well, unless you’re into that.” 

There’s a confidence to everything that Sooyoung says, it makes you feel envious that she’s able to pull it off without being cocky. If you tried, it would likely come out sounding pretentious. You sit beside her, though, there’s probably more space between your bodies than she was hoping for as she shuffles closer toward you. 

“So, what now?” Once again, words are leaving your mouth without you thinking about it. But, you can’t help in feeling awkward that she’s seemingly not made a move beyond putting her hand on your thigh since you agreed to leave the nightclub with her. 

“What do you want to happen now?” 

Truthfully, your lack of experience with the whole one night stand thing had led you to believe that people didn’t even get the chance to scan the person’s apartment that they’d decided to sleep with. Part of you expected Sooyoung to just tear your clothes off the second you walked through her door. Part of you wanted her to do that, then you wouldn’t find yourself in this semi-uncomfortable situation. 

The logical side of your brain that is screaming for you to listen to it is instead and telling you that Sooyoung is not a threat. She’s teasing, flirty, and probably thinking about all of the former things your mind has listed, but she has been respectful thus far and it doesn’t look as if that is going to change anytime soon. 

“I’m not sure, I told you… I’ve never done this before. I thought I’d be back inside another Uber on my way home by now.” You finally reply.

“Are you accusing me of being a five minute hit it and quit it kind of girl?” Once more, that look of being offended without actually being offended overtakes all of her features. Features you can’t help but admire in the clear lighting now rather than the darkness of the club. 

Her face is lacking any blemishes whatsoever, and despite being ready to enter her bedroom, you also wouldn’t like seeing her bathroom just to know what kind of skincare routine she has going on. The same plump lips you wanted to touch with your own are still inviting, but you restrain yourself once more.

“No…  But why would you want me to stay once we both get what we’re here for.” 

This time, it does offend her as your words hit her like a slap to the face and she huffs out a deep breath. 

“Maybe, and bear with me here because it could be a concept you’re unfamiliar with, but just maybe, I like you beyond tonight.” 

She stands abruptly and shuffles towards the kitchen area, her footsteps heavier than previously and shoulders slumped. You consider following her to apologize and ask if she wants you to just leave now, but she returns with a glass of water in one hand and a box in the other. 

“Here, take this.” She opens the box to reveal a strip of tablets and pops two out of the metallic packaging placing them down on the table in front of you both. “Painkillers  for when you wake up, your head is going to feel like hell no doubt.” 

She moves away once more toward one of the closed doors but again returns quickly, this time with a pillow and blanket in tow. She lays the pillow down gently and offers you the blanket to hold onto. 

“As much as I’d love to spend the night with you, and I would have by the way, had you followed me earlier in the night when you still had some sobriety about you. I’m not much into sleeping with drunk girls.” Despite not having a clue who Sooyoung was prior to tonight, you can’t help but feel both happy and hurt by her words. Happy she isn’t willing to take advantage of people in your state. But hurt because by god you’d love nothing more than to wake up next to her after a night of being beneath her. 

She turns on her heels to leave you once more but stops herself upon reaching the bedroom door. 

“But hey, I’ve always had a thing about morning sex, so, who knows? Maybe you’ll still get lucky.” She offers you a quick wink before closing the door. 

This time, she doesn’t return and you’re left to wonder about just what the morning with Sooyoung might have in store for you.

pt.ii

[golchaworld]

You See Love Is A Game (And I Still Want to Play) | C.YJ

➳ pairing: campus player!yeonjun x female reader

➳ genre: college!au, angst, suggestive fluff

➳ word count: ~5.2k

➳ warnings: some suggestive moments, language, super brief mention of death, set in a nursing home, ambiguous/open ending, bi!yeonjun (not a warning but it’s there lol)

➳ summary: A workplace romance is a cliche.  But if it’s not a romance, that should be perfectly fine, too.  It sure seems to be fine with Yeonjun.  So why isn’t it fine with you?

A/N: Y’all this took me forever! I’m kind of happy with the way this turned out though. As always, feedback is encouraged! Requests and prompts are also always encouraged so don’t be shy. Also there is a high possibility of a part two for this, so if you’re interested feel free to let me know.  The title is from “Don’t Wanna Fall In Love” by KYLE.

Part Two

Choi Yeonjun was nothing but leather jackets, perfectly styled hair, and sleazy smirks. His look fit his character to a tee. He was a loud, obnoxious player who could have anyone on their knees for him with just a smirk and his signature wink. 

You hated it. 

Sure, college is the time to explore yourself and your sexuality, and you were never one to judge. But to see someone taking so much pride in being known as nothing but a player was a tad bit...unsettling to you. As a psychology major, you always wondered what was going on inside Yeonjun’s head that made him so okay with his reputation. However, you never got close enough to pick his brain. 

Keeping your distance from Yeonjun was something you decided in your first semester. You had been walking down the hallway of your dorm (the one he unfortunately lived in as well), ready to set out for the day when you were met with a shocking sight. Yeonjun had been walking out of the bathroom, freshly showered. His towel was knotted low on his waist, exposing his toned torso that was littered with drops of water. 

The minute he noticed you staring, Yeonjun pulled out the classic smirk and wink before walking away. To say you were left with flushed cheeks for the rest of the day was an understatement. 

You couldn’t deny that the boy was attractive. There was something so enticing about his cocky demeanor and careless walk that drew you in. His plush lips were always drawn up into that greasy smirk that highlighted his high cheekbones and strong jaw. His hair was always perfect, even when it was messy, and he was always dressed to the nine. 

In short, Choi Yeonjun was infuriatingly attractive. 

And as you found out, fury, disgust, and attraction proved to be a dangerous mix. It had your stomach in knots every time you so much as caught sight of the boy.  If anyone were to ask you, it was out of a weird distaste for him, but you knew better.

Which is why you find yourself currently in the library, trying extremely hard to focus on your 19th century literature homework as Yeonjun sits at a table a few paces away.  He’s flirting with the innocent boy who sits at the table with him.  You can easily tell by the way Yeonjun’s smirk is sitting on his face and the fact that the other boy’s cheeks are dusted with pink that he’s doing well.

You internally roll your eyes, averting your gaze back to Frankenstein in order to not be caught staring.  Leave it to Choi Yeonjun to turn a place of learning into an opportunity to score.  In all honesty, it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does.  But you can’t help the way your mind runs an internal rant about Yeonjun’s antics, when in reality it has nothing to do with you.

As you grow more tired, it becomes harder to focus on your homework, leaving you distracted.  Yeonjun still sits with the seemingly innocent boy, apparently still laying on the charm thick if their hushed giggles are anything to go by.  Part of you can’t help but be jealous of the boy.  It must be nice to have all of Yeonjun’s attention, even if only for a fleeting moment.

You’re too busy pondering that thought to notice that you’ve been staring.  Suddenly, Yeonjun’s eyes meet yours from across the room, and you know you’ve been caught.  You’re quick to avert your gaze then, cheeks heating at the thought of Yeonjun knowing that you were staring at him.

God forbid he knows why.  You would never hear the end of it.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus back on Frankenstein.  You’re nearing the end of your assigned pages when you feel a set of eyes on you.  The gaze is piercing, demanding your immediate attention, but you don’t give in, letting your eyes process the words on each page instead.

It’s only minutes later when the chair across from you shifts, and you look up to see it being claimed by none other than Choi Yeonjun.  You only spare him a brief glance before burying your nose into your book.  You hope he doesn’t notice the way your cheeks have heated up just from his mere presence.

“You know,” Yeonjun whispers, mindful of your location.  “It’s not polite to stare.”

“I wasn’t staring,” you respond, not once looking up from your book.

Yeonjun chuckles under his breath, and when you look up to meet his eyes, he’s looking at you in sheer amusement.  His lips are quirked up, but not quite in his normal cocky smirk.  He seems friendly, almost.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you respond hesitantly.

“Well, Y/N,” Yeonjun says as he begins to stand from the table.  “Next time you want my attention, just say so.  The staring thing is kind of creepy.”

The tall boy pushes in his chair, surprisingly respectful despite his demeanor.  He spares you a wink paired with his signature smirk before he walks away, leaving you with unfinished reading and a flame of annoyance flickering in your stomach.

.        .        .

One of the pains of being a psychology major is the need for you to participate in field research.  It takes up a huge amount of time, and requires more writing than you initially thought, but at least you get to decide what and where you want to research.

Very honestly, studying geriatric psychology in a nursing home isn’t exactly your first choice for research.  But when your professor mentions that they are in dire need of research help, you can’t find it in your heart to say no.

When it is finally the first day of your research, you can’t help but feel a little nervous.  You know the procedure, and you have all of your interview questions written down, but you still can’t help the jitters that accompany doing anything for the first time.  It doesn’t help that you have to go in alone, your supervisor choosing to stay in the lab while you do the field work.

Your knee bounces the entire bus ride to the nursing home, making the fabric of your dress jump around your legs.  The short pumps you’ve stuffed your feet into begin to hurt the minute you walk into the nursing home, and you can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

Lucky for you, the home is warm and inviting.  The walls are a warm cream color, decorated with the occasional piece of artwork.  It’s surprisingly busy, filled with staff, visitors, and residents, all chatting away or busying themselves with a board game.

You make your way to the front desk slowly, still taking in your surroundings.  When you arrive, you’re greeted by a dimpled boy sitting behind the desk, giving you a soft smile as he welcomes you to the home.

“How can I help you?”

You swallow down your nerves, suddenly made worse by the boy in front of you.  He’s cute...like really cute.  “Um, I’m Y/N.  I’m here for research.  I work with Dr. Seo.”

The boy behind the desk lights up, dimples growing deeper as he smiles fully.  “Oh!  It’s so nice to meet you.  Dr. Seo told us he’d send someone in, but didn’t mention who.  I’m Soobin, by the way.”

Soobin extends a hand and you shake it, smiling softly at the boy’s bubbly demeanor.  He’s quick to stand, grabbing a folder full of papers from the desk before coming around to meet you on the other side.  He motions for you to follow him.

“Normally researchers don’t actually do much on the first day.  They just kind of come in and survey the place and take notes.”  Soobin leads you down a long hallway, smiling and greeting the residents as you pass them.  By the way everyone lights up at his presence, you can tell he’s well liked.  “Last year, I was the one who kind of showed everyone around, but now they have me working the front desk so I really can’t anymore.”

The boy stops in front of an open room, which appears to be some kind of break room. There’s a fridge in the corner, plastered with pictures and colored magnets. The rest of the space is filled with a few tables, one of which is occupied by what seems to be a group of volunteers. 

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She works with Dr. Seo,” Soobin announces, grabbing the attention of those around the table. 

The last person’s eyes you expect to meet are Yeonjun’s. Yet here he is, staring back at you in his mint green scrubs as he munches on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He looks sincere for a moment until something within him clicks, when the corner of his lips quirk up into a smirk. You feel your heart fall into the pit of your stomach. 

Soobin doesn’t seem to notice the shift in atmosphere, and continues his announcement. “I have to go back to the front to help Hyunjin, but can one of you guys show Y/N around? She’ll need to know where things basically are and where to set up.” 

Yeonjun’s standing up before Soobin even finishes his sentence. “I’ll do it,” he offers. 

Soobin’s face pulls into a relieved smile, dimples popping out in gratitude. “Perfect,” the boy places a large hand on your shoulder. “You’re in good hands with Yeonjun. I’ll be at the desk if you need anything. It was nice meeting you.”

You nod at the tall boy, watching as he sets back off down the hallway from which you can. When you turn back to the break room, you notice that Yeonjun has already cleared his stuff away, leaving his friends with an exaggerated salute that has them all laughing. He brushes past you in the doorway, mumbling for you to follow him as you set out further into the nursing home. 

“You just couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” Yeonjun throws a wink over his shoulder. 

You roll your eyes. “You wish. I couldn’t give less of a shit about you working here.”

“Rule number one, sweetheart, is that you can’t curse around the residents. So watch that mouth of yours.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at the use of the pet name. You can tell Yeonjun doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still leaves a fluttering in your stomach anyways. 

The tall boy leads you up a flight of stairs, and it’s then when you notice how different he looks. All of his piercings are left void of jewelry. Instead of his hair slicked back with a hard gel, it’s left natural, soft and shaggy. He’s not wearing any bracelets or rings like he usually does, and you smile internally. You like the way this Yeonjun looks. 

“We’ll start at the top and make our way down, okay?” The boy’s voice echoes in the stairwell, twisting the pitch as the sound reverberates. 

You nod before realizing that he can’t see you from his position in front of you. “Sounds good.”

It’s evident that Yeonjun has been volunteering here for a while, exhibited by the ease through which he guides you around.  He turns swiftly around each corner, knowing exactly which hallways are dead ends and which bring you further into the facility.  The residents all greet him warmly as the two of you pass, and the older women seem especially fond of him.

Apparently no one is immune to Choi Yeonjun’s charm.

You’re amazed by the time the two of you return to the first floor.  The nursing home is huge, much bigger than what you expected when you first walked in.  Yeonjun leads you back down the same hallway through which you came earlier, past the front desk, and through a smaller hallway that leads away from the heart of the home.

When Yeonjun stops in front of a small room, he sighs.  He opens the door swiftly to reveal what looks like an office.  It’s equipped with a desk, some file cabinets, and an assortment of comfortable chairs and pillows.

“This is going to be your office while you work here.  Once upon a time, it was mine,” Yeonjun’s eyes meet yours, holding a surprising air of authority.  “Treat it right.”

You just chuckle awkwardly in response, not knowing how to respond.  And then it hits you.  This office was his at some point.  The revelation has your eyebrows furrowing.

“You were with a research team?”

Yeonjun nods curtly.  “I’m a developmental biology major.  What better place to study the last phases of life than in a nursing home?”

Your jaw drops in surprise.  “A developmental biology major? I would have never assumed that.”

Yeonjun chuckles bitterly.  “You don’t know me.  I think it’s a little inappropriate for you to be assuming anything.”

The air in the room is stale, emphasizing the discomfort that you feel after Yeonjun’s words.  He’s right, of course, that you don’t know anything about him other than the fact that he gets around a lot.  And he doesn’t even know that you know that.  You choose to just apologize softly, which has the smirk rising on his face.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Yeonjun looks a little too smug.  “Like I said, just treat this place with care.  You can make yourself at home here.  Whenever you’re ready to leave, just let Soobin know so he can sign you out.”

“Um, sure.  Thanks, by the way.”  Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow.  “For showing me around and stuff.  I’ll make sure to take care of your office.”

“Well it’s yours now, sweetheart.”

With another wink, Yeonjun is gone, leaving you once again with flushed cheeks and unfinished work.

.        .       .

The first week of trying to incorporate research into your already hectic schedule is a disaster.  You only have to go into the nursing home two more times, and yet they manage to be the most jam-packed days you have had in awhile.

Working in geriatrics also proves to be more difficult than you’ve expected.  Some residents are difficult and mouthy, while some are sweet but forget the question the minute it leaves your mouth.  The whole interviewing process is extremely stressful, made worse by the way you have to relive the moments afterwards when you transcribe the interviews.

Additionally, you can’t decide if seeing Yeonjun everyday in your place of work is a blessing or a curse.  You admit that he’s a sight for sore eyes after a long day, but he can also be extremely distracting with the flirtatious winks he sends you from down the hall.  It seems like every time he sees you, he makes it his mission to fluster you as much as possible.

Occasionally he engages you in normal conversation, and that seems to fluster you the most. It’s when you gossip about the residents or tell cheesy jokes that you find yourself red in the face, absolutely smitten. It’s overwhelming how much you have grown to enjoy his company. 

By the second week, it all becomes routine.  It’s simple, really.  You come into the home, check in with Soobin or Hyunjin, the other cute boy working at the front desk, and they always greet you with a smile.  You use placing your snack in the break room fridge as an excuse to see Yeonjun, who always sends you a flirtatious wink in greeting.

Then you settle into your office, interviewing and transcribing for a few hours until your brain is melted.  After that you retrace your steps to gather your belongings and leave the nursing home.  It’s a pretty simple routine...until it’s not.

It’s the Thursday of the 5th week when Yeonjun comes barging into your office. You had been cramped in the small room all afternoon, and it was nearing 6pm. You weren’t anywhere near done with your work, but Yeonjun didn’t seem to care. 

“Get your jacket,” the boy commands after his surprising entrance. “We’re going out.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boy’s words, leaving him with a confused frown. 

“There’s no way. I’m not even close to being done. So I have to stay here and work. Just go out by yourself.”

Yeonjun’s frown deepens, and you admit that it makes him look adorable. He stands before you with unstyled hair and a frown, clad in those mint green scrubs all of the volunteers have to wear. You internally smile at the fact that his name tag is upside down. 

“You’ve been in here for over five hours. You deserve a break. We’re taking one now. Come on.”

Yeonjun’s stare is demanding, but with the subtle frown on his face, he seems to be pleading more than anything. After a few seconds of staring at the boy, you sigh, rolling your eyes. 

“Fine. But only for a half hour. Then I have to get back to work.”

Yeonjun beams brightly at you, and you wonder how you’ve gotten to the point where Yeonjun smiles at you more than he smirks. You shrug off the thought and grab your jacket, following Yeonjun out. 

The two of you opt for a quick stop at the local coffee shop rather than a full meal, knowing that what you need is just a pick me up. You settle into a booth towards the back of the cafe, seeming more interested in your drink than the boy in front of you. 

Yeonjun chuckles when he notices the way you are downing your drink, taking a slow sip from his own. “You must have really needed that.”

When you look up, you notice how Yeonjun’s nose is scrunched up in amusement. He looks different like this, cuter, and you wonder what about the nursing home brings out such a cute side of him. 

“Yeah, this research is kind of killing me,” you reply. “I don’t know how you did it.”

Yeonjun’s smile transitions to something softer. “I really loved it, so it never seemed like a big deal. I would rather be bombarded with patient interviews than have only a little bit of paperwork. Being face to face is so much more rewarding.”

You find yourself nodding in agreement, taking yet another sip of your drink. Although you had spoken to Yeonjun quite a bit since you’ve started your research project, you’ve never seen him so open. He’s normally all teasing quips and playful jabs and flirtatious compliments, but all of that seems to fall away as he looks at you with sincere eyes. 

“What made you even want to work in the nursing home to begin with? Don’t most developmental bio majors work in embryology? Why didn’t you work at a fertility clinic or something?”

At this, Yeonjun’s smile falls. He looks down at his drink, stirring it softly as a way to fidget. He can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he begins speaking. 

“My grandmother was actually a resident at the home, like 3 or 4 years ago. She had really bad Alzheimer’s disease, and couldn’t live on her own, so I started visiting her when she was sick there.

“After she passed, I guess I couldn’t really stop myself from visiting over and over again, even though I knew she wouldn’t be there. So when one of my advisors told me a research position was open there last year, I jumped on it.”

You place your hand on top of his and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Yeonjun nods sadly, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “It’s okay now. Volunteering at the home is something I really enjoy, so something good came out of it all.”

After a second or two, Yeonjun flips his hand over, interlocking his fingers with yours. You instantly flush, even though you try not to show how flustered the action makes you. 

“Thanks for asking, honestly.” Yeonjun starts softly. “No one has really ever questioned it, so it feels nice to be able to talk about it.”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath when the boy squeezes your hand. He doesn’t let it go after, letting it rest softly in his. You realize that he’s giving you the chance to pull away, but something in the pit of your stomach tells you not to. 

The two of you end up spending the rest of your break chatting idly, fingers intertwined on top of the table. 

.        .       .

No matter how much you get used to seeing Yeonjun in the nursing home, seeing him on campus always throws you for a loop. Even now, as you stand in the obnoxious crowd of the frat party your friends have dragged you to, you’re surprised to see the familiar head of perfectly styled hair. 

He’s standing by the staircase, nodding his head softly to the beat of whatever EDM song is blasting through the house.  His demeanor is the exact opposite from when he’s at the nursing home.  Instead of being soft and open, he’s closed and rigid, seemingly predatory as he scans the crowd.  You suspect it’s for his next hookup, and green briefly flashes behind your eyes.

He meets your eyes from across the room, sending a wink your way. You just roll your eyes, excusing yourself from your group of friends before walking over to him. Yeonjun looks surprised as you approach, taking a long sip of whatever concoction is housed in his red solo cup.  He leans against the adjacent wall before greeting you with a smirk. 

“This is the last place I ever thought I would see you, sweetheart.”  His eyes glitter with delight.

You roll your eyes, sipping on the seltzer in your cup. “I could say the same thing to you. Aren’t you, like, too cool to be here or something?”

This makes Yeonjun laugh, his prominent cheekbones protruding as he smiles genuinely. “Of course I’m too cool. But I just decided to grace all of these poor souls on campus with my presence.”

You hum in amusement as Yeonjun takes a step further into your space. He glances down into your cup, raising an eyebrow at its contents. 

“Vodka soda?” He questions. 

You shake your head no. 

“Gin and sprite?”

You shake your head once again. 

“Tequila seltzer?”

His incessant guesses have you laughing, but you finally take pity on him. “It’s just seltzer, Yeonjun. I’m not drinking.”

Yeonjun scoffs, leaning further into your space as you two lean against the adjacent wall. “What’s the point of coming to a party just to be sober? Actually, never mind, I would assume nothing less from you, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” your jaw drops in mock offense. “Someone once reminded me that it’s a little inappropriate to be assuming anything when you don’t know someone.”

“I think I know you well enough.”

You cock an eyebrow challengingly. “Prove it.”

The smirk takes hold on Yeonjun’s face. He tilts his head slightly, making it easier to make eye contact. You’re struck by the intensity of his gaze, even in the fairly dim lighting of the party. He crowds further into your space, forcing you back onto the wall just a little bit. You’re ashamed at the way it ignites a flame in the pit of your stomach. 

“Would it be inappropriate to assume that you want me just as bad as I want you?”

The question takes you by surprise, but the fire in your stomach only grows. If it weren’t for the intensity of his stare you would think he was joking, but something in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious. 

“What makes you say that?” You don’t know where the sudden confidence comes from, but you take pride in your ability to flirt back. 

Yeonjun chuckles. “Don’t think I forgot how you were looking at me in the library all those weeks ago. You were practically begging me to fuck you with your eyes. And honestly,” he shrugs. “I would have. I still would.”

You swallow thickly, brain momentarily short circuiting at the boy’s words. He still has yet to break eye contact, seemingly searching you for any sign to back off. Obviously, he doesn’t find one. 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Yeonjun’s smirk grows, dripping with a sense of pride and satisfaction. He’s quick to take you by the hand, leading you up the stairs to wherever the two of you were bound to spend the rest of your night. You mentally apologize to your freshman year self for breaking your promise to keep your distance from Yeonjun.  But really, you aren’t all that sorry.

.          .          .

You feel dirty. 

No matter how much concealer you use to hide it, it makes you feel extremely dirty to come to work with hickies. It makes you feel even dirtier that the one who gave you said hickies volunteers there. 

However, what makes you feel the dirtiest is the fact that when Yeonjun comes into your office and locks the door, you take the bait. You only have a 20 minute break in between your interviews, and you spend it fucking Choi Yeonjun...again.

No matter how dirty you feel, though, you can’t help but feel an underlying sense of giddiness. Being with Yeonjun just ignites something within you that has you thrumming with happiness for the rest of the day (not that you would ever tell him that).

The two of you had decided at the party that there was nothing wrong with a little fun as long as it was left at just having fun. And with that, the two of you just arose. 

You don’t know where quickies in your office fall on the spectrum of “just having fun,” but you go with the flow anyways. 

Yeonjun chuckles as he watches you slide your discarded panties up your legs, pulling down your pencil skirt as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse. He looks no better, the drawstrings on his scrubs untied, a blooming hickey forming underneath his collarbone. You both are a mess, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You’re straightening up your hair when Yeonjun moves to leave. He approaches the door slowly, seemingly wanting to draw out the moment between you two. Eventually he exits the office with a sleazy wink. 

“See you around, sweetheart.”

And with that, he disappears. When the door clicks shut behind him, you swear to yourself that it won’t happen again. 

Naturally, it does.  Time and time again, you find yourself with Choi Yeonjun embedded in you, and you can’t say you regret it.

Your connectedness bleeds into your work, as you often find yourself thinking of the boy during your interviews. The two of you share secret glances whenever you cross paths, accompanied by the occasional rendezvous in your office. 

It bleeds into campus life, too. You find yourself leaving every party with Yeonjun’s arm wrapped around your waist, him whispering dirty promises in your ear as he leads you out. 

Every single time you encounter Yeonjun it always leads to the same two things, sex and unfinished work. 

He takes pride in it, too. Yeonjun loves the way he has you dropping everything for him the minute he says the right things. He loves how you always greet him with a sweet smile, one that’s dripping with sugar in a way that’s only meant to conceal something. He loves the way you moan for him, say his name, tell him that you’re close. Yeonjun loves. 

He loves.

On month two of you two “having fun,” Yeonjun decides he’s had enough of loving. He’s loved before, sure, but this, this is love. And if he knew anything, he knew that “having fun” and love could not coexist. 

He lets his eyes roam your naked figure as you lay sleeping in his dorm bed, the two of you squeezing onto it late last night and haven’t moved since. He wonders when sharing a bed became enveloped in “having fun” and he assumes it was around the same time when loving you was. 

This is not the Yeonjun he knew himself to be. This is not the Yeonjun that tore through the boys and girls of campus just to chase a meaningless orgasm. This isn’t the Yeonjun who got cute boys to tutor him by pretending not to understand physics. This new Yeonjun feels.  He feels for you, and he hates himself for it. 

Yeonjun can’t stop himself from smiling as you slowly start to blink awake. On instinct, his hand comes to your hair, stroking softly to further coax you into wakefulness. When you make sleepy eye contact with him, you smile softly. Yeonjun’s heart clenches. 

“What are you staring at, creep?” You mumble into the shared pillow. 

Yeonjun chuckles softly. “Just a loser.”

“That wasn’t what you were saying last night.”

And Yeonjun blushes. The Yeonjun that he knew himself to be never blushed. He was always the one making others blush. He used to make you blush. He wonders when the tables turned. 

After waking up fully, you’re quick to leave the bed, searching the small dorm room for your clothes.  You get dressed without batting an eye, straightening out your appearance as much as possible.  Yeonjun just watches from his bed as you go through the motions, taking in the sight of you.  

When all your stuff is gathered and you’ve deemed yourself appropriate, you head to the door.  Yeonjun wills himself to say something, anything.  But his voice is caught in his throat, and it’s not until you’re halfway out the door does he find his words.

“See you tomorrow.” Stay, please.

You just smile over your shoulder.  “Bye, Yeonjun.”  Ask me to stay.

You’ve made peace with the walk of shame since you find yourself doing it so often.  But there is always something that nags in the pit of your stomach as you walk down the corridors of the dorm.  You wonder if people can look at you and know, know that you’re just another one of Yeonjun’s conquests.

Somewhere along the line, you convince yourself that it’s fine if that’s what they think, because that’s what you are.  Choi Yeonjun doesn’t do feelings, not for you, at least.  He just takes and takes until he’s satisfied.  There will come a day where he’s satisfied, and you two will return to being nothing but coworkers.

You wonder if Yeonjun has taken anyone else recently.  You’re sure that he must have, but you can’t help but hope that he hasn’t.  You hope that you’re the only one, that you’ve been the only one, but that hope is futile.  You know that.  So why does it hurt so bad?

As you exit the dorm, the cold air of early December whipping past your face, you realize that you’ve been taken.  Choi Yeonjun took you, every piece of you, and you wonder why you let him.

You wish that you stuck to your freshman promise of keeping your distance.  But distance only makes the heart grow fonder.

Part Two

[morganaseren]

3, 5, 25. Sorry to hear about your allergies. I understand, as someone who's currently suffering from hay fever. Hey at least spring is in the air!

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

I... would like to say that my writing style makes any type of sense, but that would be an unfortunate lie. :P

As OtSttCA’s written now, it’s chronological in terms of how I set up the chapters, but the various scenes I have within those chapters never occur chronologically. I could have something that could wind up in the next chapter or two, but then I’ll end up with another idea an hour later for a scene that probably won’t even take place until toward the very end of the story. I basically just cherry-pick which ones just seem to fit well together. Lol.

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

That would probably be Sera. Lol.

For those whom don’t know, English is my second language, so the first time I encountered Sera, I found it difficult to properly understand her even with the subtitles on because her way of speaking is so distinct compared to any other companions we’ve had.

Truthfully, I let her join the Inquisition in my very first run, but I otherwise left her on the sidelines the entire time except to do her loyalty mission. When I was looking for a new party to accompany one of my other Inquisitors, I took her along, and I managed to really enjoy her company. Major kudos to Sera’s VA for bringing her to life and making her such a memorable character!

Honestly, when I first started writing OtSttCA, I wasn’t entirely certain that I could do Sera justice, but since she’s definitely one of Niamh’s friends, I felt I at least had to try. There’s a sort of chaotic playfulness to her, and I try to play to that sense whenever I focus on her perspective. Hopefully, I’ve done so convincingly. :P

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

How about I spoil you with a future OtSttCA scene instead? :) I quite like the dialogue I wrote here between Leliana and Morrigan.

---

“You assumed as much as that old woman did.”

“Wynne?” Leliana questioned, watching as Morrigan placed her tome on the bench next to her, likely realizing the conversation between them was one that required her complete attention.

“Yes. She mistook our relationship to be more than what it was. She said I...” A dark head canted somewhat, likely recalling an older memory. “...smiled more when it came to Niamh, and that was—is—true. I have always valued my friendship with her even when I told her that I would not always prove worthy of it. It became truth when I left you all to that final battle alone. While I was not as close to Saoirse as I was to Niamh, I grew to greatly respect her as a leader. I did not wish to see her die when something could be done to prevent it, but when she refused...”

Morrigan merely allowed her words to trail off with an almost soundless sigh, and Leliana found that she finally had an answer to an older mystery that had plagued her for years. Following Saoirse’s death, a bitter part of her had believed Morrigan had left to suit her own needs. A matter of survival. She hadn’t even considered the notion that Morrigan had played a part in trying to save Saoirse, only leaving when her offer had been rebuffed.

“Alas, I did not think Niamh would venture off alone after that,” Morrigan admitted, “and by the time I thought to look for her, she had already scattered every trace of herself to the winds. Yet, despite it all, she honors me more than I can say that she would allow our friendship to continue again when we were so long apart from one another.”

“And?” Leliana pressed, but the response she received was brief, airy laughter accompanied by amusement that tinged the deep violet of the other woman’s lips as they lifted up into an almost imperceptible smile.

“‘Tis truly just friendship, Leliana, but perhaps in another life, another time...” Slim shoulders shrugged themselves. “In this one, however, she has always wanted you. Niamh is in love with you to a degree that anyone would be envious of, but she lives in a world that constantly undervalues her, and ‘tis cruel enough to never let her forget that fact. Is it truly any wonder she feels so unworthy of you?”

Leliana’s brows rose. “Surely, she can’t believe that.”

“Are you so certain? Even from her late mentor, she was taught duty superseded all else; thus, she learned she had to sacrifice her personal desires for the sake of others. She is not like you and I, where we can freely commit misdeeds in the dark for the sake of the greater good. As powerful as she is, she is still as tied to her honor as Saoirse was. She will not consider stealing you away from even a memory of her sister, and so she will not ask you to ever consider this for her sake, Leliana. She would never be so selfish as to demand that you give up your ambitions for her. Thus, if a turning point is to be made, it must be initiated by you.”

[kdenbibi]

Boo

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x African American! Reader

Request: Hello! Could I make a request please? Could you write an African American! Exchange student! X Kaminari Denki?(or Hitoshi Shinsou, all my faves are problematic) If I need to be more specific, I have an idea: •The reader is normally a tough girl, but Since its spooky season™️ the two of them decide to go to a haunted house and it turns out she gets spooked pretty easily -> teasing ensues But anything would be fine because I like your writing style! If you dont have the time, that's ok, thank you!

AN: I'm sorry if it's short and or trash but I love this goofy fool sm and I'm really happy someone requested him!!! (ALSO I HATEMYSELF YOU REQUESTED THIS IN OCTOBER AND IM POSTIN IT IN JUNE END ME)

"Remind me again why I agreed to do this shit?"

"I’ve always said one day my daring charm and wit would finally getcha’- please don’t go I was just playing!" He laughed out catching my elbow before I could escape the oncoming headache. 

"No, you said we were going to a pumpkin patch dickhead, this ain’t a pumpkin patch." You felt your eye twitch as you walked closer to your real destination, the scariest Halloween attraction in your town.

"I may have stretched the nature of the pumpkins, they'll still be here! Just on the heads of people trying to kill you in a corn maze.”

 Almost as if to emphasize his statement shrill screams coming from within the maze finally reached your ears, and shit did it send a chill up your spine, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Huffing out a laugh you turned to face the eccentric blonde, "We're gonna have to square up after this you know that right?"

"What? I'm not a square! I picked this place after all." He boasted gesturing to the haunting atmosphere hanging over the two of you, before you could correct him on the term a particularly loud shriek had the both of you jumping in place, the sudden movement caused your hand to ever so slightly brush against his, unknown to you, but the harmless action had his heart racing faster than the zombie that chased the two of you from the ticket booth to where you now stood.

“If something grabs me i’m going to hit you.”

He laughed holding a hand to his chest in mock hurt, “Why are you gonna hit me?! I’ll only grab you if you ask- wAIT STOP LEAVING.” 

“Well i’m not gonna hit the worker, they’re just doing their job.”

“You know I’m surprised.”

“What that I actually dragged my ass outta bed to be here? Me too.”

“No, well yes and no heh.” You turned to face him, overly aware of your place in line and how it slowly but surely grew closer to the dark entrance.

“Well you seem kinda..”

“Is there an end to that sentence?”

“Don’t bite my head off okay?” he anxiously toyed withe the strings of his hoodie, his eyes darting around from your face to the floor,

“You almost seem kinda, scared?”

“Boy if you don’t-”

“Next.”

Was the only word the doorman said as he ushered the two of you forward, cutting off your defense before it could begin, you’ve been in burning buildings, the bad end of a gun fight and can proudly say you’ve talked back to your mama and lived to tell the tale, statistically, you a bad bitch, things can’t shake you.

cept’ this.

The air seemed to grow colder as you wordlessly moved forward, your hands twitched at your sides, the longer nothing happened the tighter you tensed up.

“Pretty cool huh?” he whispered at your side making you jump nearly two feet in the air, your hands flying up to press against your temples.

“Whhhat the hell man? Why would you go and do some shit like that?”

He tried in vain to bite back a smile at your reaction, pausing his steps he stared down at you, “So you are scared!”

“Well no, your loud ass whispering caught me off guard is all.�� He rolled his eyes, the grin on his face only growing as you suddenly picked up the pace, he had to jog to not lose you.

“Wait up a second here-”

“What good does that do anyone in horror movies ever? Exactly.” He laughed tugging at your sleeve.

“Come on! I’ve been asking you out since you transferred and you finally said yes, stay a while.” The urge to clown him for the line was strong, only outweighed by the urge to throw him a bone, to his credit, he had been asking you out since your first day in class, you gave him an elaborate excuse not to go every single time, it became sort of a game, no matter how ridiculous the lies got, he never argued, never got mean like a lot of people do when they get rejected, instead he’d laugh along and swear one day he’d get you to say yes, and somewhere, along the way, among the jokes and terrible, garbage pick up lines, you began to notice a few things about Denki Kaminari.

The first was that he had two sides, the guy who tries to be cool, the school flirt, this is the guy he usually was, but there was also this version of him that switches his Netflix to English when you come over, just to make it easier for you to enjoy, the kinda guy that sends you memes when you’ve had a bad day, the kinda guy who actually remembered how homesick you got talking about Halloween back home so he tried to surprise you with what he no doubt thought was a good idea.

Points for effort.

You sighed slowing your pace to fall beside him, once ore you continued forward in silence, you finally came to a choice in the path, left or right.

“So, where we going?” you asked subtly inching closer to him, the skin crawly feeling seemed to spread as you stared down the offending paths,knowing no matter where you went, some scurry shit was waiting for you.

“You tell me gorgeous.”

“Why the hell should I know?” he rolled his eyes, tugging you with a grin

“Fine! Lets go this way.” he began walking to the left, to his surprise you’d suddenly latched on his arm pulling him back.

“D-Don’t the screams sound louder down there?”

He tried to memorize the way you wrapped around his arm, not knowing if he’d get the chance again, he was so caught up he nearly forgot how to speak.

“Okay, no problemo, uh right it is-” a shout from that direction halted both your steps.

“Well shit.”

“Took the words right out my mouth.” 

“Only way out is through babe.” he hesitantly gripped your hand in his own, his hold loose enough for you to pull away, when you didn’t, he swallowed thickly before tightening his grip.

“Come on, I got you scaredy cat .” he gently tugged your rigid form along thanking every deity he knew he found this place online

“If you let me die on our first date I’m telling god.”

“Ah-Ha! You admit this is a date?”

“Yes! whatever get me thefuckupouttahere!” your words were rushed as you tugged him forward, sidestepping a zombie on the floor, your grip was iron but he couldn’t find the heart to care, not when you were wrapped around him in a way he’d only imagined before.

The rest of the event was a blur as you dodged any and everything you seen, in fact it wasn’t until he pointed it out did you realize you'd ran all the way back to the train station. 

While you leaned on your knees and desperately tried to get air back into your body, he was busy watching you with the sweetest little smile curling on his lips, because even in a moment like this you were still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and as that thought processed, he understood just how whipped he was.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that be so scary.”

“Okay, you wanna makes jokes huh, fine next time we’re going on the biggest roller coaster in japan and I’m gonna watch your soul leave your body.”

“Can’t wait sugar.” he said looping an arm around your shoulders.

[pianodoesterror]

2020 Fanfic in Review

tagged by the realest, @veganthranduil - thaaank you.

I reversed the question order a bit because, like veganthranduil, my list of fics written this year is... extensive. And that’s also how they did it so.

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing, during a year more focused on survival than perhaps any other:

I wrote a lot. So much. I went from 59 fics to 100 and that’s just... show’s how boring my year was. There is a lot of familiar themes and vibes in my fics that I am highly aware of; I think they are as much for comfort as they are for ease tbh. Who doesn’t love people in room’s expression emotions. I also wrote some short fics - which aren’t even that short - but that felt good and it forced me to be more economical as I usually am.

Also, this year I learned the difference between ‘sitting’ and ‘sat’ and ‘stood’ and ‘standing’, although there is not guarantee on whether I use them correctly on the first attempt.

I really enjoyed the two women’s POV I got to do (incidentally, for both of the exchanges I signed up to this year), especially Ann Ross’. 

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Uuuh, a threesome involving Sophia for the fitzier fic exchange. I never really considered doing an actual threesome despite thoughts because Who would be in it? Also so many limbs. And I had considered a Sophia pov, but not for this, and certainly not modern. But despite false starts, and periods of abject dejection, I got it done and I’m kinda proud of it.  

How you grew as a writer this year:

I think my voices became clearer, my descriptions took on a snappiness. I took style risks and I think they mostly paid off. Also, first time I’ve taken ‘research’ trips for fics, but how can I noooot ships are so cool and so is Greenwich (who’s high-street has the best ice cream shop btw)

What’s coming in 2021:

WELL. There is only one WIP in my google doc’s rn. And it’s a present for my friend lobsterbang who threw the idea at me on a calculated whim and I grabbed it and overthought it, because then I could actually use my degree and the stuff I specialise in at work this year 😭. -  Tozer/FJ, Romans.

  What is planned from my bingo card;

Three scenes that might be in the Let the River Rush In universe.

Capetown, Dundy/FJ

Rossier, which could be one thing or another, I haven’t made up my mind yet.

Fics written this year:

There’s so many i’m so sorry

Fitzier;

you found me beautiful once (G) - a spooky drabble to go with art by @matt-j-freeman 

sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me (M)( hinted Fitzier and past Rossier, and Gibson/Hickey). First chpt posted about this time last year, but was finished in February 2020, a colab with @lobsterbang about how we thought they would get home within the context and intentions of the show. Also Hickey is suuuper creepy and FJ gets to shoot rockets.

the snow grows from the ground up (M) - 5+1, FJ is jealous of Crozier until he isn’t. 

and all I've done for want of wit (T) - James dies, and wanders through everyone else’s afterlife, waiting for his own to arrive. 

the world will always smell of salt  (M) - where, much like the real expedition, they are forced into cannibalism to survive (rated M cause it’s not graphic cannibalism but a dude still gets ate)

Oh, why would you weep, my friends, for me? (T) - the greatest tragedy of Francis’ life, coming to see him through the last day of his life. (wrote this in 24hrs and I am very proud of it)

gathering primroses series (M) - Trans Francis, FJ and Francis being comfortable with one another. The OG fic might be the best thing I wrote this year. 

all the boards did shrink series (E) - pwp, FJ own’s a dildo, that’s all you need to know. 

let the river rush in (E-T) get’s it’s own little bit. The last 8 (eight!) fic’s of the series were written this year. My baby. My cosy universe of Francis and James working out how to be the men who survived all that happened, all while navigating sexuality and gender and their own selves. 

Fic’s go from; whatever stirs this mortal frame (E) - where James is in his corset and split seam knickers being fussy and bossy. TO it hangs like flax upon a distaff (M) - Crimean war erectile dysfunction (not a sentence I thought i’d ever type). And from lately i've been fine, floating away (E) in which Francis bottoms for the first time, TO the bit of me still at sea (M) - where James is posted to the Med fleet and Francis potters about without him, both unhappy to be parted but used to a sailors life. And a honourable mention to by the time you are Real (G) where FJ is highly relatable and finally starts processing 10 years after the Expedition. 

For Fitzconte;

Way haul away... ,(M) series. in which Dundy belongs to a story that is very different from the one happening about him. 

Clio Goes West (M)series, in which - they go swiming in Yemen, eat dates, and get one another off. The Basra Marshes are very beautiful and sticky, and so are they. And - Nebet attacks.

It isn’t much fun for one, but two (G)- the Dundy and Jas orign story.

For Rossier;

Oh, a nice watch below wouldn’t do us any arm.(M) - HMS Fury days, larking in the gunroom.

positive values of inclination (M) -handsomest man in the royal navy sucks dick to unwind and manages to be a nerd about it

For Fitzjames/Tozer (lobsterbang);

magnitude and definite direction (M) - James is a nerd and they misuse a jollyboat.

marriage, in the maltese style (M) - FJ is off home and is gonna have to behave himself. so says goodbye to Malta in the company of a obliging marine. 

how prettily he foots it with his hands (M) - Mr Fitzjames stars as Queen Fadladinia, and gets quite a memorable standing ovation

Misc; 

we've got one thing in common, its this tongue of yours (E) - Fitzier exchange, modern AU threesome with requested pegging.

and of their shadows deep (G) - Rossier exchange. Ann Ross pov (which I LOVED doing), her reaction to Francis’ disappearance, and reflection on her friendship with him.

I tag @norvegiae @laissezferre @junomarlowe @lobsterbang @clockheartedcrocodile if they would like to do it