#i just have really felt especially grossed out by how white romance readers (and i am one!)

[mermaidsirennikita]

what your thoughts on title cole's hades hangman series?

My immediate thoughts are that Tillie Cole is a racist who should be actually cancelled (not the weak shit we call cancellation), as in any possible publishing career, indie or otherwise, done. Nothing. I'm honestly worried about the pen name shit I imagine she'll pull or has pulled, because I dread people buying books by her without realizing it's her after all this.

But uh.... yeah. I have zero tolerance for Nazi romances, KKK romances, any romances featuring a racist, genocidal protagonist or protagonists. And I do want to be clear--genocide is what the KKK wants in the end. As is the case for most hate groups. They may say they want people "in their proper place" or "over there instead of here" (displacement being a part of genocide) which is all heinous and unacceptable. However, the reality of the nitty gritty is that they want them eradicated, or at least eradicated from the part of the earth the genocide mongerer feels entitled to, which is most of it. The only alternative, if you could call it that, being that the racist wants the "inferior" race enslaved or subjugated for their own gain (the implicit word usually being "again"). And I think that even the "smallest" breadcrumb of racism can easily tip into these mindsets with some degree of radicalization. So yes, zero tolerance.

I often have seen the "devil's advocate" arguments from "liberals" (white feminists who want to read these books) being "but how is this any worse than books where the heroine falls for her rapist".

And here's the thing--there are a couple books I've read wherein the heroine does fall for her rapist, and I like them still. I'll be clear--these are historical old schools (as in, the 80s) which I don't think came from the perspective of say, a contemporary Sam Mariano book. (I haven't read her books, but I know they can contain this content). I have yet to read a recently published contemporary wherein the heroine falls for her rapist that works for me. I have spoken to people for whom certain books have worked, including a couple survivors.

What I think sets these books apart is that a heroine in a dark romance falling for her rapist, however fucked up and unrealistic, is based on a personal relationship between two people. It isn't about anyone the reader represents, and I don't even really think it's often about gender (though it can be, which I think is probably a line--if a hero is a serial rapist because he hates women, I don't think the reception would be the same). And let's be real here--most of the time, this does reflect real life. The vast majority of sexual assaults are the result of intimate partner violence. It is something between two people, and while I would personally never suggest anyone forgive their rapist and reconcile with them, or frankly forgive them in general... That is something where it is about the one individual and her perspective, and in a romance it follows the same mentality. I may not LIKE that book, but I do see that as a book about harm to a PERSON and within a RELATIONSHIP, which is more individualized.

A KKK hero or a Nazi hero or what have you is often paired with a woman who represents a group he hates (though in Tillie's case, the heroine is a white-passing Latina, a "cartel princess", which lol, ALSO RACIST, but I suppose her complexion is meant to create ambiguity). If he isn't, she's the white woman he is allowed to be with anyway. Either way, he hates a collective. He is enacting violence, physical or otherwise, against a collective. Even if the heroine is of the group he hates, SHE cannot validate his redemption arc~ or "forgive" him. However unrealistic the forgiveness or validation of redemption a rapist "hero" may be, that is a situation where I can say "fucked up, but her choice". This is very literally not something a single heroine can give, and even if the author came from the same marginalized group as the heroine in a genocidal hero book... that author can't speak for the collective either. (I say this because I have heard of authors writing about sexual assault and reconciliation in books state that they're survivors, and I really can't speak on how they work through that on an individual level, but I do think it's important to again note the individual.)

While sexual violence is absolutely a worldwide epidemic, it is NOT the same thing as genocide. Doesn't mean it's better or worse... Though I will say, I think the fact that sexual violence is used as a tool by genocide mongerers does speak to the fact that genocide is obviously a more existential threat, here. And I don't really care for the comparisons I've seen made between the two in discussions of this book and its place in dark romance--because they often seem to be coming from my fellow white women, and I feel there is often a "we're all women, we're in this together" mindset. When the reality is... no. First off, women aren't the only targets of sexual violence, and men are not the only people who perpetuate it. Second of all, not all women experience rape culture in the same way. Cishet white women live under the threat of rape culture, absolutely. But white women don't experience racialized predation. Nobody is trying to "convert" cishet (or simply cis) women through sexual violence. Nobody is killing cis women because they feel "tricked" by us. And for that matter, white women, especially cishet white women, can be the oppressors of women of color, queer women, trans women, and so on. They can encourage sexual violence against women with a single vote--and have. How many white women voted for Mr. "Grab 'Em By the Pussy", again?

So yeah, I don't really like the whole "well this is fine for me to read because y'all read your rape books" discussion of these books when we get into discussion, because these just are very different topics. And I don't like conflating them to either EXCUSE the violence of these books, or once again devolve into a "dark romance readers are universally dirty little perverts". Because--while there are ABSOLUTELY dark romance books that go way too far, which I wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole... I think there's a point where a book isn't even dark romance, it's just using that as a mask to perpetuate a form of like... artistic violence against an entire group of people.

Because these genocidal hero books are about violence against the collective marginalized group being dismissed, "redeemed" or "forgiven", there's this inherent dismissal of what has happened to potential readers of these books, and I see that as a kind of casual violence. That dismissal happens every day, and it is ESPECIALLY happening right now, when so many western nations (and I'm not denying it's happening elsewhere, I'm just much more aware of the USA, Canada, and Europe) are in the midst of nationalistic far right swings. And hell, let's be real, most people of color are not reading Tillie's books on purpose, I imagine--but frankly, that doesn't matter. Tillie has, I suppose, a legal right to write these books. But I don't view them as any different from the vitriol spewed from a Westboro Baptist Church representative, or the people calling BLM protestors looters.

You just can't slide this shit into a "dark romance is gonna dark" slot, or "why do dark romance readers keep bringing this to us" whine rant. I will bet you anything that a lot of the readers who read this book and rated it a 4 or 5 on GR haven't read a single other dark romance novel in their fucking lives. They enjoyed it because they want to romanticize a guy in the KKK and act like he can be redeemed, because their sick little fantasies about their white prince proud boys are what they're looking for here. This isn't about tiptoeing to the ver edge of dark romance, this is about wanting to bathe in a racist fantasy. It's their Birth of a Nation moment, but with porn.

I mean, what has been really frustrating to me... because obviously outright racists will shamelessly defend Tillie, outright... is just this idea that this somehow has come back to a discussion of dark romance, when really, it should be a discussion of RACIST ROMANCE NOVELS. Which is something that extends faaaaaar beyond dark romance, or any subgenre. I've read a fuckton of racist contemporary romances. Obviously historicals have quite a long journey with racism in books. I've read racism in paranormals, for fuck's sake. I believe one of the big Nazi romances was an inspirational romance. To me, there's just been this dancing around admitting that this is a romance-wide issue, because people want to go "well, it's only an issue with dark romance, MYYYYY favorite romances would never" and it's like. I don't know, girl. People of color are widely underrepresented in the genre (as are queer people and trans people) so maaaaybe just maaaaybe romance isn't your perfect haven where all we need to confront is men being misogynistic. Maybe, just maaaaybe, there are other issues going on here.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Professor Callahan x Fem!Student!Reader || Drabble

Plot: Callahan gets vicious, defending you in front of the whole damn class.

Inspired by Ezra using his power as a teacher in this scene of Pretty Little Liars for gross personal reasons with Aria. (Start at .57)

Warnings: Teacher/student affair themes. Fight, bad romance and sexual references.

You could not believe what you were hearing; Callahan was tearing into a student- which was not entirely out of the ordinary. But this wasn't him smug and mean, this was him pissed off. Because of you.

Half the class was watching in fear, afraid the professor was just in a bad mood and they could be next, but you felt like the other half were looking directly at you; at the back of your head. At the side of your face, searching for a reaction.

Knowing something is wrong here. Knowing what you've done.

You didn't know what to do. You were frozen in place; your knuckles white wrapped around eachother in your lap as you fight not to say anything.

All the guy did was oppose your opinion in a debate- like he was supposed to. It was a simple one, but the guy got personal; he got too heated and he called you a dumbass (You didn't care, you were getting heated, too- it was hard not to in a class like this, and you weren't a fan of his opinions. You could still feel the word 'idiot' at the tip of your own tongue.), and Cal immediately spoke before you could- his razer fast wit clicking into place faster then you could have de-escalated the argument. He went from sitting back half-on his desk, one calf folded casually over the other, to ram-rod straight, as close to the guy as he could get without wading in between the desks. Cal's eyes glued to him while he took the poor guy down 30-something pegs, humiliating the guy in front of the whole class until he had his head bowed pathetically and nothing to say.

It wasn't fair. Callahan was completely abusing his power and everyone in the room knew it.

Which wasn't entirely out of character- but you were afraid that they would see through him. Or you. And they'd see how bad this instance was, how gross. That he was abusing his power to defend the student he was currently fucking.

The interaction lasted less then a minute, but Callahan got his point across, and continued to stare down the guy for further torturous moments, while the rest of the room was crickets. You refused to even move, eyes on him hoping he would glance over and see you and come to his goddamn senses. But he didn't.

... The horrible scene ended when Callahan finally shifted and looked up at the clock, before rolling his shoulders of any stress and heading back to his desk like nothing at all happened. "Alright everyone, class's over, get out."

Everyone did as they were told as fast as possible, especially the guy- he barely stuck around to unplug his laptop before shooting out of the classroom. He certainly didn't wait around to ask questions about the homework. The classroom was empty in a minute.

Then it was just the two of you. He knew you were there, but he didn't look around or acknowledge you, the dick; just peacefully flipped through a book on his desk as if he wasn't an insane person. Didnt he think him coming to your defence like that was going to cause suspicions?? If not, then he's not nearly as smart as you thought.

...

You cant stay quiet. "What the hell was that??" You finally ask, slamming your books down on your desk as you get up out of your seat.

"... the hell are you talking about?" He asks, playing dumb which you absolutely don't care for. No.

You round the desk so he can see how pissed off you are, and you can see his face too. See how nonchalant he really is- which is not at all. He looks pent up and frustrated. "What the hell is wrong with you??"

"Oh, so I guess you liked the way he was talking to you??" He smirks, shrugging. "My bad. Next time I'll encourage that." He sneers, sarcasm dripping off his sharp tongue.

Narrowing your eyes, you fight not to leave right that moment. Leave, transfer classes, and never see him again. This isn't worth the risk, whatever this is isn't worth your education. How could you have been so dumb?? "Ugh, you're being impossible. You know that was dumb. What if people are suspicious now?? What if someone tells- I dunno, another faculty member?? Someone with more power then you?? You could be fired for fraternising with a student."

"Thanks for the tip. I had no idea." Still, with the nasty quippy sarcasm. You roll your eyes, and move away from the desk with the intent to gather your things and leave.

"I'm out of here."

Before you can even reach your things though, Callahan turns around and grabs you by the wrist. "Oh no you're not." He drags you back, right into his body this time. "If you ask me, you're at fault here- you're the one who couldn't handle herself in a simple debate."

NOW you're pissed. "What!?" You were holding your own! Its not your fault the guy went out of line and Callahan felt the need to jump in- you didn't ask him to do that! He wouldn't have, for anyone else in that class.

"If you could handle that, if you could control your emotions in the classroom, I wouldn't have noticed your distress and felt the need to defend you- be a grown up and not a silly girl, and this wont happen again."

Instead of engaging him in that ridiculous line of accusation (Suddenly you're a child?? You weren't too young to have been in his bed, last night, were you?), you stop everything. You make yourself calm. Then you lean into him, and v e r y c a l m l y say "You're an asshole." Then wrench yourself free of his hold and storm to your desk. Furiously you stuff everything into your bag and throw it over your shoulder, turning to stride out of the old classroom when Callahan follows you and corners you against the door before you can open it. "Fuck!- " You curse, glaring hard at him. "Let me out!"

When he grabs your jaw and pulls you suddenly into a deep heated kiss, you're shocked and outraged; you drop your bag heavily to the floor. Let him force you between the door and his body. When he pulls back, you glare even more harshly at him. "... was that supposed to do something??" You ask breathlessly. "I'm still just as pissed off at you."

"Yeah, well I don't care. Get on your knees." He tells you gruffly, breathing heavily from the fight.

You gape, stunned. "You get on your knees!" You snap back, beyond pissed off that he would dare-

That he has the balls to- To try, and-

Right now!???

You're furious with him!

But your heart falls in utter surprise that almost takes all the fight right out of you, when he shrugs his shoulders in that perfectly tailored blazer, a spiteful-shitty-smug look on his face, and goes down. Eyes wide, you stare at him (This old man) down there on his knees fully prepared to eat you out amidst being pissed off, in shock and... a little bit of desire. Sometimes you hate this man-- but he looks so good on his knees. Even with that narcissistic smirk on his face.

"... fuck you."

"Thats the idea."

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 7: SCARAMOUCHE (1921)

Hello, Citizens, and welcome to the seventh meeting of our lovely Convention!

I deeply appreciate your wishes for my speedy recovery and I assure you that I’m right as rain.

So, with that out of the way, let us begin.

1. Introduction

“Scaramouche” is a historical fiction novel written by Rafael Sabatini, who might be familiar to some of you via works like “Captain Blood”, which was among my favorite novel series when I was growing up as I’ve always loved (and still love) me a good swashbuckling story and I never quite grew out of these tastes in literature.

In the case of this novel, it never was a blip on my radar when I was a kid but my renewed interest in the French Revolution and my research of topics for future reviews led me to this story. Apparently there’s a sequel and I might review it in the future.

I found the ebook readily available in English on Project Gutenberg so it’s pretty much in public domain now.

I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that there’s a swashbuckling novel set in Frev - the setting is like a perfect fertile soil for external and internal conflicts, adventures and drama, so it was only a matter of time before someone came up with an adventure novel in this setting.

That being said, at first I had quite a few fears that this book would be just another propaganda piece, especially since the author was technically Anglophone.

Did my fears come true? Let’s find out.

2. The Summary

The story’s protagonist is one André-Louis Moreau - a ward and godson to a Breton nobleman and a lawyer by education who swears revenge on a Marquis who kills his friend in a duel.

To escape the gallows after landing himself in hot water for igniting the fire of revolution in Rennes and Nantes, André-Louis joins a troupe of traveling actors and performs as a character called Scaramouche, hence the title.

3. The Story

Like I said, I have a soft spot for swashbuckling novels so I actually quite enjoyed reading the book. And, on a pleasantly surprising note, the revolution is NOT demonized. If anything, the protagonist actually becomes an idealistic republican by the end, which is a really uncommon narrative choice in Frev media.

The narrative clearly portrays the nobility as too privileged and corrupt and the people are in the right - at least, this is what the protagonist understands during his arc.

There’s also not that much Thermidorian bullshit, at least no popular stereotypes, which I really appreciate.

That being said, I do have three main issues with the story.

Firstly, sometimes there’s too much filler and it feels like the narrative is barely dragging along, which got tiresome at times.

Secondly, I didn’t like the romantic subplot between André and the niece of his godfather, Aline. For context, the two were childhood playmates and grew up referring to each other as cousins, only to fall in love as adults.

Maybe it’s just me, but I find romance between family members (no matter how honorary) gross even if there are no shared genes involved. I know cousin marriages were more common in the past but personally I think the novel would’ve benefited from Aline and André only sharing a platonic bond and familial love.

(Spoiler alert!)

Thirdly, I highly doubt the “I’m your father” twist was necessary here as I usually dislike such plot points because they’re hard to do right.

Here there was no proper building up to the revelation, at least in my opinion, and the twist itself can (and most likely will) seem predictable to modern audiences.

However, it was resolved in a fairly realistic way. Marquis de la Tour and André don’t immediately reconcile just because they’re father and son but André calls off his revenge quest, grants the Marquis a safe passage out of the country and doesn’t want to see him again, which is understandable considering their prior enmity.

On that note, let’s take a closer look at the characters.

4. The Characters

Right off the bat, the biggest issue the modern readers might have is that the characters are too “black and white”. In the era of “grey morality” and complex characters, these archetypes might come off as done to death and boring but, other than that, the characters were mostly easy to empathize with.

Personally, I didn’t like André himself in the beginning but he grew on me.

He starts off as a stoic almost to the point of coldness, a cynic and a borderline nihilist who believes fighting against the noble class is futile and there’s no point in trying to improve the country.

But when his idealistic best friend is killed, André vows to take the Marquis down by using the volatile revolutionary climate to his advantage. Slowly, André too becomes a revolutionary and an idealist, which is admittedly rare as usually people in stories become cynical by the end.

Seeing this character ark but played in reverse felt quite refreshing to me so even though at times André’s sarcasm and stoic attitude made him insufferable, I think he is pretty well-written and fleshed out as a protagonist.

Next is Aline, and unfortunately she is underdeveloped in the novel, more so than a female lead should be. She is ambitious, which makes her consider marrying the Marquis, prejudiced against actors due to her upbringing and in general is a typical noble ingenue.

Her and André are playfully witty at times and verbally cruel to each other at others and, unfortunately, they suffer from the “misunderstanding” trope which makes them unable to talk things out. I always find this trope annoying and, coupled with prejudice and not being fleshed out enough, it played into my apathy for Aline as a character.

Then there’s Marquis de la Tour, the typical privileged corrupt noble. He loves women, is a master of fencing and has no heart. André even calls him the embodiment of sin various times.

I know despicable people can and do exist, but here it seemed like he was made a bit too evil, to the point of being simply cartoonish and hard to perceive as a threat or, for that matter, take seriously.

At least he wasn’t threatening for me personally as a character and was more amusing than anything else.

Interestingly enough, historical figures don’t feature much in the story but we do get cameos of Marat, Danton, Robespierre and Desmoulins, as well as Mirabeau.

Mirabeau is called a hypocrite by the author but the other four, surprisingly, aren’t portrayed as evil villains. Marat is even called a philanthropist and his pamphlets inspire André! How rare is that, Citizens?!

Anyway, let’s continue.

5. The Setting

Although at times the text is overloaded with descriptions, all of them were vivid enough for me to imagine myself in the story with the characters.

Sabatini sure knows how to convey the images of villages, cities, nature, inns, etc in an exciting and engaging manner. I just wish that the descriptions were a bit shorter.

6. The Writing Style

Seeing as the novel was published in 1921 and I’m pretty good at English, I didn’t have many problems with reading but there were some outdated grammatical structures and vocabulary so be prepared.

Besides, in the version I read didn’t have translations of French and Latin phrases that occasionally pop up in the text, which was a bit annoying but not that much as I could understand the context of the phrases and therefore figure out what they mean more or less.

In general though, despite occasional overload of descriptions and the aforementioned grievances I have with the text, the writing style is engaging, very easy to understand and not too complex.

7. The Conclusion

In short, I can definitely recommend this novel to anyone who loves good swashbuckling stories and hates propaganda. Not the most original story but enjoyable and a good read regardless.

With that, I announce the end of the meeting. Stay tuned for updates and stay safe, Citizens!

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

[lawslessons]

hi hi! i js found your blog and omg its amazing??? especially what you wrote for Sabos soulmate vv mucho gusto😤👌🏽

could i request B from the soulmate alpha for Law? i feel like Law is the last person to believe in soulmates and love and all that bs, but when he sees tattoos he’s all too familiar with on someone else... yeah! he probably thinks they’re some intense groupie at first until one of his men brings up the whole soulmate business. anywho, hope all goes well! :D

Law x Reader - Rivers of Ink

I agree with that! He would be a stubborn man for sure. Honestly I was a little self indulgent with what I wrote for this, I do hope you forgive me if this isn’t what you were expecting. Today is February 17th and tomorrow, the 18th, is actually my birthday so I made this one extra long as a mini gift to you all! I hope you enjoy this, dear. I had a fantastic time writing this!

Warnings: Slight NSFW, Love at First Sight

Synopsis: Nightmares plagued the doctor every night, nothing seemed to be able to remedy his affliction. But could one artistic individual on an island hold the answer to his worries? A sudden and unexpected whirlwind of a romance, Law struggles to see and accept the fact that he was falling hard so quickly. 

“Haven’t you heard that tattoos don’t age that well?” Someone whispered into Law’s ear as he walked down the dark alleyway. The lights flickered above him, moths swarmed around the light until it was barely visible, it served no purpose in being there. He rolled his eyes and turned his head to see who was there, but he was unable to see anyone. 

“Marking up your pretty body like that? What a shame,” Another sneered, the words grew louder and soon it turned into chanting, it was louder, louder and louder. His ears began to ring, laughter pierced his ears and soon Law felt like he was falling. 

Law gasped as he woke up with a start and clutched his chest. His eyes were wide as he felt around his bedside table for his glass of water. He chugged the remnants of what was inside while he used his free hand to wipe the sweat off of his brow and onto his palm instead. He felt clammy and gross from waking up so suddenly, his eyes felt dry and heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that easily after what he experienced. Leaving his bed, he grabbed his jacket and left his room to go to one of the main hallways of his submarine so he could look out at the ocean. The ocean was beautiful, they all said. But in the night, the normally blue ocean was a vast expanse of black ink. He stared out at the ink and saw that there was nothing notable to look at. The ocean was dark, the submarine was dark, nothing seemed able to emit much light here. He didn’t even know his purpose in coming out here, his nightmare seemed to have more light than the hallway he was currently in. Dismayed, he grabbed onto one of the walls and groped his way back to his room before he laid down on his bed and did his best to force himself to sleep. He was blessed to not have anymore dreams, or nightmares that night about his inked up skin. He woke up and overheard his crew talking about how they noticed an island on the radar and how they were going to go up to restock on some supplies and to also get some fresh air as well. Law made himself get ready for the day, he couldn’t let anyone else find out about his restless night.

Law went up to the deck for the first time in weeks when they finally reached land. The warm air on his tanned cheeks caught him off guard, he felt disoriented after coming out of his underwater hibernation. The captain glanced around the shore of the island with his steely eyes and saw how the island was rather boisterous and full of life. The islanders were walking around, laughing, flying kites that were covered in extravagant designs. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Law said as he left the submarine and stretched his arms up in the air, he watched as some people ate snacks while some were walking and were just enjoying the island’s temperate weather. One thing he noticed was how no one was alone, and how everyone - except for the children of course - had exquisite, matching tattoos that covered their arms and legs, backs and necks. Anywhere there was space, unique designs covered people’s bodies and it caught Law’s attention. He started to “people watch”, he noticed how this one woman had a long, intricate dragon tattooed on her arm, and how her girlfriend had a matching one on the same arm in the exact same place. He watched as a mother and father had matching ones on their wrists, it was the same with everyone he met. Law’s curiosity soon took the better of him and he approached one of the happy couples and awkwardly looked down at them. 

“Those tattoos… where are they from?” Law asked as he pointed to the intricate ink snaking down their bodies. The woman answered for the two of them and told him about a tattoo artist who lived on this island who specialized in “Soul Tattoos.” While he got no further elaboration on that, he decided to follow the directions he was given by the polite couple and soon found himself knocking on the door of a random shop. The door soon opened and Law was greeted by something… strange, familiar. He looked down at their hands and noticed how death ran across their fingers, and how from under the collar of their shirt, he could see the start of a large tribal heart. Law brushed it off as a major coincidence as he slowly walked inside of the shop and looked down at them. 

“I saw some of your work out on the streets, it’s really well done,” Law said as he looked down at the person in front of him. 

“You did? Oh, thank you,” They smiled as they walked back into their shop and showed off some of the work they had on the walls of the shop. “I’m proud of the work I do, and especially for people like that? This? I really do enjoy it,” Law studied how their lips curved into a smile and how they parted when they let out a small breath. 

“What work are you talking about?” Law asked, he knew that they were all tattoos and he appreciated the artistry behind it, but other than that he wasn’t sure about what they were referring to. 

“I do Soul Tattoo’s they’re all about -- “ Before they were able to say more, a clock chimed behind them and they looked over at it. 

“Oh, closing time -- “ They looked over at Law and suddenly sparks coursed through their entire being. His steely eyes pierced straight into their own like a sword, their heart begin to race as they maintained eye contact with one another for a prolonged period of time. Their breathing slowed as they took in the sight of the captain in front of them. The tattoos were the first thing that caught their attention. Finally... he was here. Before they could even speak, Law looked away from them and at the door in some discomfort. 

“It’s alright, goodnight,” Law said as he went to leave the shop before he heard any objections from the person who was there. As he walked in the dimmed streets, he looked at the inky sky and couldn’t help but think about their tattoos. The knuckle tattoos were similar to his own, he glanced down and was surprised to see that it could have been the exact same thing. Death on his knuckles, the ornate tribal style tattoo heart on his chest, the more he thought about it, the more perplexed and creeped out he became. He went back to his submarine, that confused look mixed in with his usual cold look caught the eyes of some of his subordinates. Bepo looked at his captain and quickly stood up to give him a hug. 

“Captain! Welcome back!” Bepo cheered as he hugged the tall man, Law didn’t resist the hug but he didn’t hug him back either. Bepo noticed how his captain was more stone cold tonight than other nights which confused the poor bear. “Captain? Are you alright?” Bepo asked him. 

“I’m fine,” Law assured as he pulled away from his warm companion and looked up at the sky for a moment. “I met someone strange,” Law said as he studied the stars with his eyes next, the mixing of the bright white against the blueish black was a wonderful contrast. Mindless thoughts, Law was trying to distract himself again. 

“What do you mean?” Bepo decided to ask him. 

“Someone with the same tattoos as mine,” Law shared as he glanced over at Bepo. Bepo was confused too, he looked over at Penguin who was taking in the cool, night air. 

“The same as yours? That’s a little weird,” Bepo agreed, and Law was glad that he wasn’t crazy for thinking otherwise. He didn’t understand why they had the same ones as him. 

“Maybe they’re some weird follower of mine or something,” Law grumbled, that thought upset him. Bepo noticed the upset look, but he had to agree with his captain, it was strange. 

“You did gain a lot of popularity after the Doflamingo incident,” Bepo reminded him. That seemed to almost settle it for Law, he had a stalker, a fan and that made a weird chill shoot down his spine. Was that the shock he felt from earlier? No, that was more powerful, the captain stared out at the ocean with a blank, thinking expression until he heard Penguin clearing his throat to speak. 

“I don’t think it’s a weird fan,” Penguin said as he continued to relax on the deck. Bepo and Law both fell silent and looked over at Penguin for more of an explanation, one he was happy to give. “Well, I was talking to some of the locals and they told me about how people who are supposedly soulmates would have the same tattoos on their body and how they would always get big pieces so they could find them easier,” Penguin explained. Law listened to what he said and couldn’t help but think that his words were ridiculous, that story didn’t even make any sense. Soulmates? Partners for life? As if. 

“I’m going to bed,” Law simply said as he went to go to his quarters. But the seed of doubt was already planted, and as he slept, he couldn’t help but think about that possibility. 

“Marked skin… we warned you, didn’t we?” A stranger mused. 

“Yes, yes we did, we did,” Another chirped, their voice was too cheery for the grim, nightmarish atmosphere. 

“Pirates can’t have soulmates, they can’t have -- “

Law gasped, he shot out of bed and didn’t even grab his water, he grabbed his jacket and left his room to go to the hallway. He noticed that they were on land, they were still on land, this wasn’t all just a dream, he really did meet someone with the same tattoos as himself. His mind for once wasn’t able to process what he saw and he soon found himself on the deck of his submarine looking out at the blue ocean and the black sky. He stared at the scene for a minute before he looked at his knuckles. How could something so alarming, something he had that was meant to push people away be the reason he got close to someone else? It hadn’t even been a day but all Law was able to think about was their infectious smile, their incredible art… There was more that had caught his eye too, but it was too inappropriate to even say, Law was embarrassed that he was caught up in such juvenile affections. Maybe Penguin was right. Law scoffed under his breath and continued to deny the truth that was in front of his face, he was falling for them after only one day. It was such an unreasonable thought that it disturbed him, it seriously caught him off guard. How was that even possible? Was it possible to fall this hard for someone after one day? Law was slowly beginning to lose his mind. Against his better judgement, he grabbed his sword and left his submarine to go back into the dark town. As he wandered around, he noticed how the dim lights mimicked stars, and all those stars led him down a straight path towards their place. Moths were around the lights like in his dream, in fact the alley looked eerily similar. Law forced himself not to think too hard on that, after all was he even thinking? He was walking over to some stranger’s studio in the middle of the night to ask questions, none of it made sense. It was late, they wouldn’t be awake. Before Law could even knock on the door, the door opened and Law was met by their piercing eyes. 

“You’re back,” They breathed out, their voice was smooth and rich, Law felt his breath hitch in his throat when he was able to see their hand that rested on the door. There was no mistaking that their tattoos were the same as his. 

“We need to talk,” Law quickly said, they offered no objections and opened their shop up for Law to walk inside. The warm atmosphere still was present, it contrasted the typically cold submarine he lived on. His eyes scanned them over in their casual night attire and felt his heart stop, he was hyper aware of every hair on his body, the electricity that was in the room. “We have the same tattoos,” Law said as he swallowed his shock away. Don’t stare, he ordered himself, but the tension between the two of them was thick. Their batting eyelashes, their soft smile, Law felt drunk off of them already. He watched as they shifted their weight onto one hip and how they pouted as they thought about what the captain spoke to them about.

“These? I’ve always had them,” They shared as they held up their hands to show off the tattoos that decorated their skin. Next, Law watched as they pulled the collar of their shirt down to show off the top part of their tattoo, it was the same as his and it was a little unnerving to see it so perfectly replicated on their skin. Not only was Law staring at the tattoo, he was staring at their skin, he let out a small breath and did his best to dim those thoughts in his sleep deprived brain. 

“How long,”  Law asked them. 

“Always. Like ever since you got them I suppose,” They shrugged. 

“So you know?” Law asked. 

“I’m not stupid, I know who you are, Trafalgar Law,” they said as they poked a finger at his built chest. The captain staggered back and frowned down at the person in front of him. “I’ve known it was you for a long time, I was just waiting for you to come and find me.”

“You sound like you’re just some fan,” Law stated with a small scowl on his face, he didn’t like the arrogance they were presenting. 

“Don’t test me, Law,” They snarled back as they grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the wall. Their hips met his as they got closer to glare at him. They weren’t aware of how close they were and how this proximity was slowly getting to Law’s head. Law decided to toss all sense of reason out, why should he care? His mind was swarming and he needed release desperately. 

“Oh yeah?” Law smirked, he looked down at where their bodies were touching and then back into their eyes. And just like he predicted, they gasped and tried to step back from him, but Law wouldn’t allow that. Law grabbed them by their hips and tsked when he saw their face slowly going red. “What happened to all that confidence from earlier, hm?” He purred into their ear, his large, calloused hand groped their rear and he chuckled at the gasp that escaped from their lips. 

“You’re such an ass!” They gasped, while they wanted to sound menacing, it didn’t seem to be working, Law was proving to be in control of the situation as of now, but it was clear that they were enjoying Law’s teasing. 

“I think you like me like this,” Law teased as his hand slipped under the back of their shirt. His fingers dragged up their spine and he drank in their heated expression. “How long did you fantasize about this?” Law asked as he pulled them back to look them in the eyes with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“I-I don’t -- “

“Lying? Oh my, are you sure you want to be doing that now?” Law asked as his free hand wandered down to their pants. He watched as their face contorted with need and want, but Law knew he had to resist for now no matter how tempting they were to him. He let out a small sigh and reluctantly pulled away from them, he watched as their expression contorted to dismay but he knew he needed to stop, he had to remember the gravity of his situation, their situation. 

“Did you think about what you were going to do once you found me?” Law decided to ask.

“It’s obvious, don’t you think? Go on your ship, er - submarine. I want to travel the world and see all the art that exists, and I also want to get to know you more,” They said before their eyes scanned over Law’s built figure, there would for sure be a lot to explore later on for sure. 

“What about your shop?” Law asked them. He watched as their lips curled into a small smirk and Law nearly felt his heart stop again. 

“I’ll bring it with me, I’ll travel and help other’s find their soulmates with my tattoos. Those who already needed my services here had me, I’m not needed here anymore,” they shared to the captain. There was suddenly silence as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. 

“Then come with me,” Being this impulsive wasn’t usually Law’s forte, but with an opportunity like this, he knew he had to live it to the best of his ability. He was surprised to see how they grabbed his hand without any hesitation and smiled. 

“Let me lock up my shop,” They said before their adventure with Law began. All Law could recall was holding their hand, running through the dark streets and stopping here and there to fiercely kiss them in dark alleys on their way to the submarine. He remembered taking them to the submarine, dragging them to his room and the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Lips, hands, warm skin touching one another and soft sounds throughout the rest of the night. When Law woke up in the morning, his head felt empty, he was relaxed for once, he didn’t have another nightmare. That surprised him, were they the answer to his nightmares? The room seemed lighter, he was amazed with himself by how he just followed his heart like that. When he looked over to his side, he saw them sleeping next to him and he found himself softly smiling. He leaned in and kissed their shoulder and watched them stir in their sleep. This wasn’t what he had planned at all for his trip here, but he was pleasantly surprised with himself, affection always sprung up from the most unexpected places, didn’t it? Even if his tattoos didn’t age well and wrinkled into his skin when he was older, he knew that they both would age well by growing with one another, and that was enough for Law.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [05]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 4.7k a/n; can u believe this fic is already over halfway done??? i feel more loved and supported for angel’s trumpet w each chapter! i hope u enjoy a more fluffier chapter and some insight on the separate relationships. thank u for the support!

[04] [05] [06] -> masterpost

Bliss. It’s been so long since you’ve experienced this feeling. 

These past few weeks have been nothing short of wonderful, like the sweetest version of reality. Working as a language teacher at BigHit was wonderful because of the staff and the fact that in the long run, your job would be helping the rookies get to know their fans better all over the world. But your job was also incredibly strenuous, and you felt an immense amount of pressure from the higher ups to teach the rookies as much as you could in between their other lessons and training. You remember the early days you’d be crying in the bathroom, scared of their exam scores because you knew it wasn’t possible to learn a language in less than a year, but the higher ups wanted you to achieve the impossible. 

But now, teaching is like a breath of fresh air. You found it appropriate to reabsorb your classes, and you’re still getting used to the sudden heavy workload. Namjoon was over the moon when you returned to your regular office in the biology department, treating you to coffee and catching you up on what you missed. Chan almost cried when he saw you Monday morning sitting in your lecture hall, saying his grade will finally be salvaged. 

However, the cherry on top has to be your budding romance with Jungkook. 

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still swimming in the honeymoon phase, but everything just felt right. Of course, you can only hope your W2 self was already going to interact with Jungkook in one way or another, just like you had in your world. As of late you don’t feel like you're tearing this universe apart, worrying that you’re interfering in an alternate universe. 

A buzzing interrupts your thoughts, and you pat around your mattress for your cellphone. You don’t hesitate to answer. 

“Good morning, baby,” Jungkook’s rumbly morning voice flits through your speakers. 

You swoon, shuffling and kicking under your covers. A little part of you is disgusted how easy it is to turn to butter in Jungkook’s grasp, but it’s unsurprising. “Hey handsome,” you reply, trying to hide your giddiness. 

“How do you know I look handsome? My breath smells like leftover mac n’cheese and there’s dried drool on my chin.” 

“Mm, still handsome.”

“Ugh, you’re so gross,” but you can hear him smiling on the other line. “Do you have any plans for today?” 

“Dunno.” 

“Well there’s this new bubble tea cafe I know you’d like so maybe during my lunch we can--”

The rest of the words fade away as you notice an incessant banging on your front door. Whoever wants to come in is far too eager for this early. 

It’s then your calendar notification pings, and you see the big fat message atop your phone: 

Hobi Date 🍷🍷🍷

“Oh shit—” you smack your forehead, you completely forgot today’s the day you would find Sehlyung’s wine lady. “I’ll call you later Kook, okay?” 

You end your call, throwing your phone on the bed as you dash out to answer. Taehyung is yelling from the kitchenette, “I’m trying to eat some damn salad here!” By the time you slide out in your socks and down the hall, Hoseok is already inside your humble abode, holding coffee and donuts. 

“I brought libations,” Hoseok says with a bit of flair, setting them down next to Taehyung’s breakfast. 

“Thanks man,” and Taehyung makes grabby hands towards Hoseok’s coffee, and Hoseok looks horrified before snatching it away. “C’mon man, no coffee no entry!” 

“Taehyung, this is Hoseok,” you introduce, opening the box of donuts and offering Taehyung one in truce. You look pointedly towards Hoseok, sipping idly on his coffee, “Hobi, why don’t you wait in my room before we go, okay?” 

Hoseok tilts his head, eyes darting between Taehyung and you. It’s almost comical, the way Taehyung’s early-morning brain is having a hard time processing what was going on, and you wanting to keep a lid on the situation. “Sure, mom,” he slurps obnoxiously on his americano, waltzing down the hallway and into your room. He slams the door rather sharply, and that’s when Taehyung pounces. 

“Who’s the hippie?” 

“Hippie?” you balk, “Hoseok’s not a hippie.”

Taehyung shrugs, shoving a powdered donut in his mouth and completely forgetting about the limp lettuce on his plate. So much for a balanced breakfast. “I know all your friends, but I’ve never met this one.” 

“He’s new,” you take your pick of donuts as well, picking up a vanilla glazed one with rainbow sprinkles, “we’re gonna go shopping.” 

“Oo, can I come?” 

“No,” you say a little too quickly, causing Taehyung’s eyes to widen in confusion. You quickly backtrack, even going as far as to grab a napkin and dab the powdered sugar from Taehyung’s cheeks, “it’s old people shopping. We’re sending ginseng wine to our families. No brand names there.” 

Taehyung immediately buys it, scrunching his nose. “Not my favorite,” he says to himself. “Well, have fun doing old people things. Maybe Jimin will be willing to do something cool with me.” 

And with that, he abandons the limp lettuce with a flick of his wrist, letting them out your windowsill and into your little garden for compost. You two make your separate ways, you into your room and Taehyung into the bathroom.

When you open your door, you already see Hoseok making himself comfortable on your bed, flipping through your notebook. 

“You really shouldn’t be leaving this out on your desk,” Hoseok waves the yellow pages around, trying to look serious, “Taehyung could read this and you might end up in the cuckoo house.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you search for a sweater, “As if he wouldn’t join me.” 

You pull out a large black hoodie, courtesy of Jungkook. Trying not to look like a smitten high schooler, you subtly smell the collar before slipping it over your body. You melt in the fabric, and you almost hug yourself. Since your time at BigHit, you’ve missed wearing Jungkook’s things, and that’s a constant you can’t ignore. 

“If you end up in the cuckoo house, I’ll end up there too by affiliation,” he flops on your bed, waiting for you to get ready, “so, we gonna nab an old lady today for some wine?” 

“Ohmygod. What is wrong with you? You can’t say it like that, someone could report you!” you laugh, slapping him with a long sleeve. 

“So it’s more appropriate to say, ‘let’s go find the lady’s coked up wine that could’ve potentially sent you to an alternate universe’ right?” 

“Exactly,” you grin, pulling him up with an outstretched hand, “now let’s get going before we both end up in the cuckoo house.” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Jungkook thought bliss ended once he got a good filming gig and a stable job, but no, it just had to get better. 

He doesn’t want to say he’s all consumed by your presence, but he can’t get enough of you. Sometimes he has to reel it in when you go out on dates, but he feels so lucky to call you his and hold you in his arms whenever he wants. 

You dropped into his life, quite literally. One day you just showed up and barged into his life. At first it scared him, immensely. But as he got to know you, wear you down and realize that the strong, blunt woman he met on the street is just as kind and sweet and soft–

The bottom line is, Jungkook wears his heart on his sleeve and loves loudly. He feels so much for you he can’t contain it. 

Except when Jimin wants to embarrass the hell out of you when they’re going over old pictures during work. 

“Can I tell you a story about how y/n almost peed in that fountain?” Jimin points to the small thumbnail Jungkook took earlier last week. You’re perched on a large limestone fountain, smiling at the little fish tickling the sides of the bowl. 

Taehyung gwaffs, choking on his sandwich. “God, that night was incredible! I got the Snapchat receipts too, Kook. If you want to second guess your standards.” 

A loud laugh bubbles from his throat, and Jungkook eagerly leans over Taehyung’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen. 

He likes your friends, too. To the point that he can safely consider them his friends. Of course he was intimidated the first time, especially when you were so pretty in your red skirt and surrounded by your equally attractive friends, but turns out Taehyung and Jimin are equally dopey and cringey as he. 

As silly as you look crouched over the water and pulling up your skirt, he melts at how carefree you look enjoying yourself on a free night. Jimin is hauling you off the ledge, grabbing you by the waist as you fruitlessly try to kick him away. 

“Careful,” Jimin tuts, sipping at his latte. “She’s gonna kill you if she finds out you showed it to Kook.” 

Taehyung scoffs, stuffing his phone away. “She looked like she was gonna kill me today when she brought that friend over. They were acting really weird,” Taehyung points his kimchi in Jungkook’s nose, “do you know Hoseok?” 

Jungkook blinks, opting to take a bite off Taehyung’s fork, “Kinda,” he shrugs, letting the tang of the kimchi spread across his tongue, “she has office hours when he’s working at the library daycare. They have lunch together.” 

Jimin leans in, hands fold over the white cafeteria table like he’s in the mafia, “What do you mean by weird, Tae?” 

“Like, she wanted him to wait in his room and they kinda just snuck out, y’know?” Taehyung divulges, “Like I love y/n, she the home girl, but who’s secretive about buying ginseng?” 

Jungkook’s chewing slows. He trusts you, however, he doesn’t know what to make of that little tidbit. But instead he swallows his kimchi, not caring that he didn’t chew enough or that it went down uncomfortably, and steels himself. “Probably just stressed about her thesis or something, I’m sure everything’s fine.” he says smoothly, trying to convince himself that he’s right, and he’s pretty sure he is. 

“Awh, Jungkookie’s so mature since he’s started dating!” Jimin paws all over the younger one like they’re long lost siblings. His hands travel to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair simultaneously, cooing like Jungkook’s a little bunny who’s merely existing. 

There’s a blush staining Jungkook’s cheeks, but he doesn’t mind Jimin’s bouts of attention. A small smile blooms to Jungkook’s face, and confirms to himself that he’s in a good spot in his life. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“So, what are you and Jungkook like?” 

You shrug, “We’re good. It’s only been a few weeks though.” 

“No, I meant your Jungkook.” 

By definition, your Jungkook isn’t necessarily yours. However, the term is the byproduct of your current setting, and an unfortunate reminder that the Jungkook you’re dating now can never be definitively yours. 

(Or…? Can it?) 

“We were,” since when did you refer to you in and him in a past tense, “kind of a slow-burn, actually. We’d pass each other in the hall and exchange conversation during lunch in groups but, he kind of just crept up on me.” 

The train is going at a break-neck speed, the fancy rail floating across the track as it beams you closer and closer to your destination. Gone are the concrete jungles and carefully architected trees. You’re finally starting to see some natural foliage and blue seas. Today’s journey is a bit of a shot in the dark, you don’t even know what the person you’re searching for looks like, but it’s the only clear lead you have. 

“So you didn’t always know you loved him?” Hoseok asks, fiddling with the wire of his buds. 

You shrug, “I had a feeling. He’s an easy guy to fall in love with,” you don’t want to mention that nearly half the world is smitten by the Golden Boy, but from the bittersweet expression on your face Hoseok has an inkling. “There’s just a lot of factors that come with relationships. Factors that aren’t worth it. It’s easy here.” 

“It would be easy,” Hoseok replies to the air, closing his eyes. 

And he’s right. It would be easy to continue on with life, forgetting about the possibility that one day you could wake up in W1. It would be easy to forget about your other life, Beomgyu’s forgotten quiz that’s still probably lit up in your MacBook back home, Sehlyung’s wish for you to approve Jin’s new outfit. 

You wonder how your life back home is going, whether they’re moving on just like you seem to be. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You really have no idea what Sehlyung’s wine dealer looks like. Work friends are work friends, where you’re close enough to share sexy secrets to each other but not as close as to divulge family life. 

You know that Sehlyung lives in a small town closer to the shore, as she’s mentioned one too many times that her feet are baby smooth from the constant sand exfoliation. You’re vaguely aware that this is the right area, at least you hope because W2 Sehlyung could be living in Guam for all you know.

Passing by the village square, you search idly for an old lady selling ginseng wine. You didn’t realize how much a shot in the dark this could possibly be. 

“Hey,” Hoseok whisper-hisses, and you try not to ignore the spit that brushes your ear, “you said to look for an old lady, right? All these ladies. They’re old.” 

He’s right.  

The village may be small, but there were over fifty booths with plenty of old ladies selling something. It would take hours, you didn’t even know if this lady would still be selling ginseng in this life. 

Your hands fall limp at your thighs, and you point to a small house at the end of the square. It’s cute, almost cottage-like, looking more high-end than the other shops on the street. “Maybe we should eat something before we do some searching. Otherwise someone’s gonna have to scrape us off the street.” 

“Good idea.” 

Surprisingly, the interior of the establishment is nothing like the front. There’s a very authentic quirkiness to it, down to the colorful blown glass vases and the eclectic amount of alcohol lining the bar. 

Not feeling like waiting for a table, the two of you wait by the bar, hopping on the two available stools in the corner. 

The two of you don’t waste any time, telling the waiter passing by that both of you would like a heaping bowl of glass noodles. 

“Care for a glass of something sweet?” 

Looking up from their dessert menu, you see an older lady leaning over you to pour you and Hoseok a cup of tea. She’s the definition of a chill grandma, from the easy way she smiles to the colorful hoop earrings she wears. You watch as she carefully pours you a cup for you, and you get a glimpse of the beautifully painted ceramic teapot, adorned with watercolor flowers. 

“If you have some angel wine,” you lick your lips, looking straight at her, “that would be lovely.”

There’s no hesitation in her work, and the lady continues to pour Hoseok’s cup with impeccable grace. She doesn’t bat a lash at your slight jab, even goes so far as to send you a crinkly smile. 

“Fresh out, m’fraid,” she replies easily, “sold my last batch to a lovely blonde over a month ago.” 

You swallow your surprise, the bile coming up your throat returning slow and achingly hard. Hoseok’s eyes dart between you and the old lady, and you clench your hands under the table. “Thought so,” you smile tersely, “then, do you have any recommendations?” 

Hoseok noisily slurps tea, as if he’s watching a melodrama. The old lady nods eagerly, placing her ceramic mug on a nearby potholder. “I’ll whip up something extra special.” 

It isn’t until the old lady whisks away from the bar and into the bathroom does Hoseok blurt, “Is the special thing drugs? Is she giving us drugs?” 

“Who knows,” you thank the waiter who sets down two metal bowls of glass noodles in front of you, “maybe the next drink will send us to the moon.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Hoseok grimaces, “my fuckin’ dream is to visit the moon.” 

As you two eat in silence, the restaurant slowly dwindles down as the lunch rush leaves and the start of dinner commences. Being a weekday, there aren't many coming down to eat out. You let yourself be immersed in the hubbub of the cottage, the clinking of clean tea cups and the laughter of staff sitting in the corner table. 

The lady finally returns when you’re nearly done with your meal. There’s a tall frozen glass in her hand, ice particles clinging to the barrier. There’s an umbrella and a pineapple adorning the rim, looking uncharacteristically bright and tropical. She places it next to Hoseok’s tea.

He narrows his eyes, “This doesn’t have LSD or anything, right?” 

She laughs, the hearty sound enveloping the restaurant. “Nope. Just passionfruit and mango.” 

Hoseok easily takes her word for it, sipping happily as it washes down his dinner. 

“For me?” you pop in. 

“Ah, some advice.” 

You shrink in your seat, “I want a fruit smoothie too.” 

But you relent when she opens her palms to you, gesturing for you to give her yours. They feel calloused and worn, as if she’s spent lifetimes dedicating her life to her craft. She rubs her thumbs against your palm, sending soothing circles to your skin.

“Enjoy your time as it lasts,” she says, quiet enough for only you two to hear, “things will fall into place very soon.” 

She senses you tense, and continues to hold you. You can’t tell whether this advice is foreboding or comforting.  

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“I know what you're thinking,” Hoseok says when you return to Seoul, walking in the direction of your apartment. 

“And what exactly am I thinking, o’ wise one?” you kick a stray pepple your way, getting in a groove as you walk lazily down the sidewalk. 

“Her words,” he mumbles, “I don’t think it’s an invitation for you to get too comfortable here. Eventually… you’re gonna have to go back.” 

“I know, Hoseok.” You don’t mean to sound so agitated. After all, the mission was mostly successful. You got your answers, albeit vague ones. The old lady in the cottage simultaneously sparked and eased your soul, unfortunately it didn’t give you any definitive direction as to go on with this life, other than to simply “enjoy it.” 

“I know we’ve been debating whether you’re hallucinating or whether you’re in a coma and you’re having a really long dream or some weird mix of the two—” Hoseok jogs up to stop in-front of you, stuffing his hands in his orange cargos. He’s standing directly behind a 7-Eleven, the gaudy green and red lights lighting behind him like a halo.“And trust me, I’ve spent hours in bed thinking whether I’m real or not and potentially reaching an existential midlife crisis,” he grabs your hand and presses it to your chest, his other hand flailing wildly to the sky, “but this is real. All of it, I’m convinced it’s real. I’ve lived a long, slow, twenty-something life so far.” 

He pulls you into his arms, and you suppress a shudder as his warm embrace envelopes you. Is this some sort of punishment? For the first time in a long time, you’ve felt content. Not to say that your life in your world wasn’t normal but you could honestly admit that the time you’ve spent here is nothing short of amazing. There’s an ease to this life, something so simple and easy to love that you want to keep it in your heart and cherish it forever. 

“But ‘m gonna miss you,” you sigh into his chest, “we aren’t very close back in my world, y’know. So I’m glad I got to spend the time that I could with you.” 

“S’okay,” he mumbles into your hair, and you can feel the smile in your skin, “if we’re really meant to be friends, it’ll happen again.” 

Hoseok leaves you with these words, allowing you to breathe easy as you make the steps back to your apartment. Your feet are heavy from the day’s trek, but your mind feels lighter as you near your floor. 

You spot a young man in a long jacket hanging a bag on your doorknob, taking great care that the contents inside wouldn’t spill. 

“Jungkook?” you ask, smile widening when his gaze perks up to meet yours. It’s almost comical how he reacts to your voice, perking up like a little rabbit at the sound. 

His smile grows the closer you get to him, “Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs, closing the space between you to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, “great timing. I got you something.”

Your eyes dart to the cup of bubble tea hanging on your doorknob. The cup is adorable, pink-tinted and rounded at the bottom with little cat ears for the lid. 

“Oh, you went! How was it?” 

“It was great! We should go once you’re free. Taehyung ordered three cups! Nearly puked all over Jimin’s couch.” 

“So,” your fingers trail up the buttons of his shirt, and you look up through your lashes, “you’re implying that my roommate isn’t inside our apartment right now.” 

He leans in, nose nudging your neck as his voice rumbles against your sensitive skin, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

You’ve never punched in your key faster, clutching the bubble tea bag to place it along the counter as the two of you clamber in. Instead of making it to your bedroom or living room, Jungkook traps your body between the doorway, cradling your face in both his hands to press a sweet kiss on your lips. 

There’s nowhere to put your hands because both of Jungkook’s are up, so you close your eyes and let yourself savor the slow taste of his lips moving against yours. Finally you decide to settle your hands on his belt buckle, absentmindedly thumbing the loops as you get lost in the feeling. 

“Mm, Kook? Koo—” he presses quick pecks to your lips, barely giving you a chance to forge complete sentences, “can we move this somewhere more comfortable? ‘M legs are turning to jelly.” 

“Glad to have that effect on you,” he replies airily, thumbs pressing into your soft skin, “but I actually have to go, so no time to get comfy.” You whine against his lips, and he chuckles. “I have a cohort meeting at 8AM. We’re gonna organize our portfolios together.”

“Nerd,” you pout, pressing a kiss to his chin.

“And me and Mingyu are meeting online for some Overwatch in like, two hours.” 

“Gamer nerd,”

“Your nerd,” he beams, his thumb reaching out to swipe the sheen from your swollen lips, “lemme plan date night to make it up to you. Minghao will be out of town for the weekend so it’ll just be me at the apartment.” 

Date night. It all sounds so domestic to you, planning out designated days to spend time together. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that Jungkook sounds so settled with you is nothing short of heartening. 

“I’ll make dinner,” his fingers twine between yours, “and we’re keeping the dress code super casual. I want to see you in nothing but sweatpants and oversized t-shirts.”

“But sweatpants aren’t sexy!” 

“They are on you,” he retorts with a wiggle of his brows, “and sweatpants are easy access.” 

“Alright, as long as you don’t upstage me.”

“Never,” he grins, pearly whites on display, “now, I really gotta go.” 

He unlatches your body from his, only to have you immediately jump on him like a koala. You feel his large hands caressing your hair, taking the time to run his fingers through the tangles. You could fall asleep standing in the middle of your doorway, melting under his touch. 

“Good night, baby.” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Sweet dreams, nerd.” you reply reluctantly, letting him open the door so he can go. 

“Dream of me!” is the last thing he says before he forces you to shut the door, leaving you thoroughly needy and wanting for him. 

Tonight, you dream long. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Seven months ago, W1

You’re crying. There’s big, fat, ugly tears falling in rivulets along your face. You don’t even bother to wipe away the tears, just let them flow freely and dampen your pants as you watch the group take their final bow. 

From your seat, you take in the energy of the concert like it’s your last breath. The purple confetti dusting your hair, the slow remix blasting through the speakers. The sea of stars swimming across the stadium, all for them. 

You wait until everybody’s long gone before you get up from your seat. Until the only people that surround you are staff and clean-up crew, forcing you to leave. Your face still feels achy and your cheeks puffy. Sehlyung is urgently texting you (quadruple texting!) to hurry your ass up and get to the green room so you can all leave together. 

A hand on your shoulder stops you from replying, and you wave them off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving already, sorry.” 

“Rude, I just got here.” 

Jungkook is glowing. He hoists his whole body to plop himself in the seat next to you, so heavy you fear he may break the plastic in two. His arms splay across the other seats, urging you to lean in closer. 

“Jungkook,” you smile, resting your hand on his thigh. “The show was great, I really felt the energy from all the way back here.” 

“I can see that,” he tugs at his long sleeves, reaching to brush a stray tear, “you okay?” 

“What, yeah.” you scoff, crossing your arms. 

“So you weren’t moved by my impeccable talent?” 

“Obviously,”

“Because, there’s nothing to be ashamed of if you were crying,” he goes on playfully, using his hands to narrate his spiel as he talks out to the stage, “I mean I get it, knowing how much I slaved over that solo and finally getting to perform it, and how I got sick the night before is a pretty–oh shit.” 

You’re blubbering again, feverish now that everyone’s gone and it’s only you two in the stadium. The lights have already started to go out, the only light illuminating are the red exit signs and the last pair of doors leading to the main lobby. Your cries are echoing across the large room, and you feel nothing short of embarrassed but you can’t stop crying.

“Awh, my little crybaby,” he cooes, dripping with affection as he moves the armrest to pull you onto his lap. You dive your face in his neck, wracking with sobs. 

“I’m, I’m just so proud of you,” you seep out, nuzzling your nose between his freshly cleaned face, “and you—you make it so damn hard for me to not love you it’s just, it’s not fair!” 

“You don’t make it any easier on me either,” he whispers, soft enough to crumble under his grasp and melt under his skin. 

The confessions are so soft, so easy to say. Little did the both of you know how much it would strain for you to place this love on the backburner. 

[saveourskinship]

Thanks for the tag @thusatlas I’ve never done one of these. So

How many works do you have on AO3?

16 works, but if you count my collection of drabbles it is 42 (soon to be 61 once I finish updating my Ficlet Snack Pack.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

429863

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Harry Potter mostly, but when I was twelve I wrote Greek God fanfiction but it’s hard to tell what fanfic in that space. I mean, the masterpiece that is Lore Olympus isn’t exactly fanfic, right?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) Transit of Venus

2) Curse of Fascinus

3) Her Curious Valentine’s

4) Are There Still Beautiful Things

5) Always Being Let Go

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Even if it’s just to thank someone and wish them a lovely day. I think the only comments I haven’t responded to are ones like ‘huh?’ or ‘eh?’. I can’t do much with those.

In a very gross way, comments are like laxatives. If you want more shit out of me, shove comments down my throat. My motivation will jump from toodle-doo to PHWOAR if anyone knows or understands what that means.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

The Alternate Ending (Tragic) to Transit of Venus.

Transit of Venus was already pretty angsty, but the people wanted to see the most harrowing of the five endings I wrote. So I put on my patent-pending Sob Through Anything glasses (eucalyptus on the nose grip, moisture wicking on the glass) and edited a Romeo + Juliet- style ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, but I do write Easter Eggs. Though I do have a plunny to crossover Derry Girls with Harry Potter where the character of James is Harry being sent to Derry for his protection.

It is the only crossover I’ve ever dabbled in and the the couple pages I’ve written are utter madness so I don’t hold out hope I’ll ever publish it..

Oh, but do songfics count? Because then I have LOADS. Mostly Taylor Swift because folklore stole my soul.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, my favourite was telling me the entire premise of Transit of Venus was stupid and I should have taken a leaf out of their country’s way of doing things to up population and given tracts of land to couples . Soo... colonialism with implications of people displacement and other more heinous consequences they found preferable to a soul spell.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write smut. My favourite type of smut to write is romantic, sensual smut. I’m also very much looking forward to writing the smut for my crackfic.

I think my most favourite smut scene I’ve written though is in Her Curious Valentine’s where Theo reads really bad, gratuitous Dramione smut out loud in the company of both Draco and Hermione while they try and ignore him.

I laughed a lot writing that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I honestly have no idea how I’d even check that. But probably not. I doubt anyone would want to take credit for anything I write.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but as an exercise to practice my Te Reo, I occasionally translate passages of my own.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Dramione. I ‘White Flag by Dido’ Dramione. I stan, simp, ship, fangirl and tresh Dramione. I refuse to feel guilt, only pleasure. Please don’t come for me Ronmione fans, I like Ron, okay? I’m just shit at writing him and just make him say, “Bloody hell!” all the time.

But also Theo with anyone, particularly Harry. Theo is my favourite character because he is almost 100% fanon. He epitomises the Harry Potter fanfic community for me so I have to love him forever and ever.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I’m writing a WIP called ‘The Madnesses of Men’ that details seven women’s relationships with the men in their life: The three Black sisters, Pansy, Luna, Ginny and Hermione. Each has a Seven Deadly Sin as the title of their chapter and each has a completely different writing style. Luna’s chapter is entirely poetry. Bellatrix is an exercise of insanity and a stream of consciousness. Narcissa’s is all letters to Andromeda that she never sent.

I would love to finish it because it is something very different for me but I’m struggling to find Pansy and Andromeda’s voices. Le sigh, maybe one day. (But let’s be honest, it’ll never happen.)

What are your writing strengths?

Humour - I have a knack for gargling up ridiculous scenarios when I’m brushing my teeth, giggling maniacally like a calcium-deficient vampire while frothing at the mouth with reckless abandon. I put these scenarios in my writing and it goes over well.

Angst - People tell them I make them cry and have been known to punch the heart’s out of people’s bodies so I thank them and wish them a nice day. I once exacerbated someone’s chronic pain condition (which I still feel soul-crushingly guilty about) and was asked to reiterate the ‘Heartbreak’ tag on a fic. I guess that means I’m good at it. Sorry again to that reader!

Trope Twists - My favourite thing to write are twists on tropes. I enjoy finding new ways to tell old stories. Stay tuned for my take on the ‘Unexpected Pregnancy’ theme coming soon.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Run-on sentences - I have a tendency to, more often than not, plug in far too many words which I think stems from some sort of childhood instinct that if I kept talking and talking then my sister won’t find out I drank all her juice and accidentally threw it back up on her favourite Skydancer.

Sticking to my plotting/theme - This has happened a lot. Incandescent was supposed to be a cottagecore, cute, fluffy romance Theomione. Now it is a sprawling space opera where Hermione has fought a god, has learned another version of herself will either save/destroy the entire world (not to mention Atlantis) and rescued a star after it was eaten by a black hole. Oh, and it takes place over one weekend.

The Absolute and Total Defeat of One Draco Malfoy had been fully plotted out for twenty-two chapters. It only took three for me to completely deviate. But it’s a crack fic, so it felt inevitable

The montage/transition pieces - I hate writing the banal parts between plot points. And I hate it because I’m really bad at it. I either skip over it too much or get bogged down in too many details.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I personally like reading dialogue in other languages. If used in a way that makes sense. Especially if the fic is set somewhere that doesn’t speak English, I like to learn a little of the setting’s language to immerse myself.

I tend to use use other languages sparingly in my own writing. Mostly because I don’t want to get it wrong and when I try, I end up in four hour long research holes of the best way to say ‘Hello’.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Ancient Greek mythology, I think. If it can be counted. Would that make ‘The Iliad’ or ‘The Odyssey’ fanfic? Oh gods, I’m going to obsess over this for days now.

What’s your favourite fic that you’ve written?

Transit of Venus because it taught me a lot, though I feel like I best nailed the setting I was going for in Are There Still Beautiful Things. The Absolute and Total Defeat of One Draco Malfoy always cheers me up.

But if I complete it and start posting (which I am DETERMINED to do, I WILL finish it before I start posting), I think my favourite will be my new WIP: What’s Owed When.

Tagging: @ohlenalena​ @megamegaturlte

[yolkyeomie]

Iced Americano | lee jeno

summary — you don’t even like coffee anymore, so why do you have an iced americano in your hands now?

word count — 2k words

pairing — jeno x gender neutral!reader

genre — coffee shop + college au, my sad attempt at humor but really it’s just me kinda losing my mind in the middle of writing this

disclaimer — this was originally made for a close friend of mine so reader is heavily based off of her! also ignore any and all typos thank you

You'd like to say you’re rather good at talking to people

Sure you may have a rather small friend group, but still

The size of your friend group doesn’t equate to how good at socializing you are

Besides !!!

Everyone finds it really easy to approach you and you're really kind back to them !!

That is if they come to you with the right attitude

So it’s not hard to say you’re known very well throughout the campus of ur university

I mean you’re not like POPULAR POPULAR but you’re nice attitude makes people just gravitate towards you a lot

And you liked that!! The attention made you feel validated and loved

was today one of those days where everyone is just super nice to you?

Yeah !!

haha no it wasn’t really

you tolerate a lot of stuff okay

You juggle a lot of responsibilities on your back while still trying to keep in touch with your friends so they don’t feel like you’ve abandoned them or something

but it was REALLY hard tryna keep up with everything

especially when your close friend group was full of boys who didn’t know the exact meaning of organization

trying to keep them situated before they went and burned themselves out was HARD

and then trying to manage yourself at the same time??

sometimes you were ready to throw yourself off the top of fifty story building

and unfortunately for you

today was just one of those days

thankfully it wasn’t because your friends are a genuine mess but

Uni is HARD

as a college student you must put up with a lot of… stuff

I mean some professors can be,,,,, UNKIND to say the least

But usually they were rather lenient and understanding !!

Except for this one. professor.

They always seemed like they were on the verge of losing their mind

And toda must have been the perfect day for them to do that

because your professors summoned the LITERAL devil from within to torture everyon in your clas

But especially you

so let’s just say you’ve been scolded a lot and given wayyyy too much work for no absolute reason

you’re about this close to bashing your head against the wall but you gotta hang on

YOU'RE NOT IN COLLEGE FOR NOTHING AFTER ALL!!!

so you find yourself absently complaining about how much work you have to do today and your friends are like

“That’s tough,,, I’m so sorry [y/n]”

what else can they say really??? they aren’t in your major and they can’t really understand your struggles even tho they wish they could

Well scratch that

they don’t want to understand because that’s ANOTHER work load of information that would constantly be rattling in their heads

Haechan had decided to become a computer engineer when he decided to pick up a major, so his brain was just always fried

Jisung was still trying decide what he wanted to go into and chenle was very serious about becoming a business just so he could accumulate as much money as he possibly could

You always forget what Jaemin had decided to major in, but it wasn’t very interesting to you in the first place

And renjun had decided to major in some form of art, the easier out the four majors mentioned before

Or at least you thought they were easy

Either way TRUST AND BELIEVE if jaemin knew just a little about your major and was able to witness the unfairness in front of him

he’d probably get expelled

anyways renjun had noticed you just getting ready to cry in the corner about how overworked you were

and for once in his life decided to try and help out, not with work tho

why would he ever help with work

“do you want something to eat??? Maybe drink??? I know this place near us that we can go to”

“Thank you so much I’d love to eat and drink and pass out and do nothing about this work when I get home”

yes that’s exactly what you wanted to and nothing was about to stop you

anyways you two were hanging out with each other either way, so it worked very well in ur opinion

You walking down this street towards some restaurants and stores while you were chatting

trying to decide where you wanted to settle down and rest like renjun has suggested

but you uh

notice something strange

you’re passing all the places you usually like to eat at because

renjun kept saying no?

he didn’t want to go to ANY of your usual hangout spots?????

WHY IS RENJUN PASSING ALL YOUR HANGOUT SPOTS??

They were hangout spots for REASON.

good atmosphere, good food, nice people??? they’reperfect !!

so why was he declining every single one of them???

“Hey renjun,,,, where are we going”

“?? To get something to eat and drink??????”

“No like WHERE ARE WE GOING?????”

“TO GET SOMETHING TO EAT AND DRINK WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN???????????”

you two started getting into a small argument, you being annoyed that he was declining every suggestion you through and him being annoyed that you kept question his choices

that was, until he finally stopped

“Oh perfect!! we’re here!!”

You turned to look at him and find that he’s standing in front,,,

,,,, a coffee shop

COFFEE shop????

you’re more of a SODA WATER TEA JUICE ANYTHING BUT COFFEE PERSON

well your parents drink coffee and all no doubt

and when you were a kid you used to drink coffee ALL OF THE TIME

you always had to get your own cup because you’d drink all of your parents’ under ten mins

but uh as you got older

it started to taste

worst?

you started to lose the taste for coffee as you got older and it was just downhill from there

*one sip* “THATSHS HORRIAVKE”

it really surprised your parents

and jaemin

but no one ever wants to drink jaemin’s coffee

please you watched renjun and haechan almost DIE from drinking it, coffee and choking and everything

when jaemin asked jisung to try it as a joke he bursted into tears

when chenle was presented the opportunity he cash apped him money and ran for it

please you almost PUNCHED jaemin for even thinking of making you try it

maybe it’s partly jaemin’s fault you can’t drink coffee anymore

“renjun uh,,,,, I don’t want coffee,,,?? You know I don’t drink that stuff. do they have like anything but that”

“yeah they have coffee coffee and coffee”

“literally,,, you’re the worst”

“No thanks :D”

yeah so you got dragged into the coffee shop

it wasn’t vsco girl Starbucks level inside

it was really small

only a couple of tables scattered about with white cloth covering them and little lights strung up along the walls to make the ambience of the room nice and cozy

There was a small chalkboard menu on the counter as well, with the day’s special and little drawings of flowers and animals around the words.

it was really cute you can’t lie

There was an even larger menu behind the really cute cashier at the cash register that detailed all of the drinks they sold as well

there was also— wait what

back track back track THERE'S A REALLY CUTE CASHIER AT THE CASH REGISTER

PAUSE BECAUSE YOU'RE ENTIRE BODY F R O Z E ON THE SPOT

“[y/n] you there”

“[y/n]?”

“[y/n] move you're blocking the door”

listen you’re not HORRIBLE at communication, it was definitely one of your strong suits in life

But this???

You were practically malfunctioning at this point

seriously you felt like you were in a romance show

you made eye contact with him and nearly tripped over your own two feet

how did you fall so head over heels for this guy so quickly???? He hadn’t even said a WORD

“Can I take your order?”

“Can you what?”

oh god oh god OH GOD HES TALKING TO YOU

wait he’s supposed to do that it’s his job

your eyes looked down towards the name tag pinned onto the apron he wore

lee jeno

wow… you could say his name for hours and never get tired of it

renjun is just kinda,,,, staring at you to get a move on

oh no did he already order

DID HE ALREADY ORDER WHILE YOU WERE ZONING OUT

NO YOU ARE NOT READY WAIT

WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?? YOU DONT EVEN LIKE COFFEE

“excuse me? are you ready to order?”

he gave you an amused smile and god it felt like the sun was shining down on you

Jeno was getting more ethereal with every word that came out of his mouth

but you couldn’t keep him waiting you were embarrassing yourself

you stared at the board above him and just blurted out whatever you saw first

“I-I I’ll have a uh iced americano…”

What's even in americanos?????

you hoped it wasn’t gross,,,

if it was it would REALLY awkward having to ask for a bunch of sugar packets to sweeten it

but then jeno smiled at you

“okay! can I have your name please?”

“,,, uh [y/n]”

“[y/n].... what a pretty name for a pretty person”

please god you are about to explode

HE CALLED YOUR NAME PRETTY AND YOU P R E T T Y AT THE SAME TIME??

anyways you’re losing your mind if you can’t tell

and renjun thinks your brain might be on emergency mode right now

and that’s not what youneed is it now?

so he decided to save you the embarrassment and pay for the drinks himself and push you towards one of the tables

you’re seated away from jeno so that you don’t melt into a little puddle if he catches you staring

which you did a lot more then you’d like to admit

“okay so he’s definitely flirting with you”

“AND THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER???”

“uh yeah? you’re supposed to feel better after knowing someone is genuinely flirting with you”

“RENJUN.”

you love renjun but rn you wanna punch him because HNG YOU DON'T KNOW BOW TO HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW

“please let’s not think about this right—“

“He’s staring at you”

“He’s WHAT”

please renjun is laughing so hard this is incredibly funny to you

no he wasn’t looking at you he was making someone’s coffee

perhaps your coffee???

or whatever the HELL renjun has ordered

but you saw jeno stop for a moment and glance at you

and the minute he realized you were looking at him too he started BEAMING

LIKE HE WAS OUTSHINING THE SUN

“RENJUN RENJUN RENJUN RENJUN—“

“I’m right here calm down”

“Miss [y/n]?”

PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE

your name sounds really nice coming from him

how did you not notice that before !!!!

“[y/n] your Americano“

“RIGHT”

you move like a robot over to jeno

are you so nervous???? AND YOU'LL PROBABLY NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN

UGH LIFE IS CRUEL

He’s all smiley and giving you the SWEETEST SMILE and jeno’s like “your americano !! I hope you enjoy it, I made it with a lot of love !!

someone send help right now

he made yours with a lot of LOVE

“ ahh !! Thank you!!!”

“I advise you to not drink americanos tho,,, they don’t suit you”

???? what does that mean

“You should try our caffe mocha, it’s sweeter than what you’re drinking now. Just like you !! I’m jeno btw”

YOU SLY BASTARD

I c what u did there

“AHHHHHH THANKS ??? I UH IM [Y/N] NICE TO MEET YOU”

you’re so stupid he already knows your name

well you already know his name you were staring at his name tag

but you’re having a sensory overload so it’s okay

renjun snickers from the back, tho highkey realizing he hasn’t received HIS DRINK YET AND MIGHT THROW A FIT

though eventually he got his drink so he was happy then, tho still a little annoyed with how love struck you were with jeno

you did have to drag him out of the coffee shop because he was going to make a complaint flirting cuz he was getting tired of it

oh and you?

After a few (many) visits you can say you definitely like caffe mochas now

but you did keep getting iced americanos every time you visited

the sweet boy who makes them the drinks always makes yours with lots of love

[joon-ipersgirl]

O5 - “airplane pt. 2″

O5 - “airplane pt. 2″

genre: strangers to lovers!au, angst, fluff

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

summary: they say home is where the heart is. you’re convinced yours was taken the day your father died. until you meet jimin. 

you believe in love but after watching men cycle through your mother’s arms, rocky relations with ex-boyfriends, and broken friendships, you no longer see it in your future. so much so, you never settle in one place long enough to call it home, choosing a job where you’re always on the go and on your own. 

on a chance encounter on a flight from new york city to bali, indonesia, you meet. flustered by jimin’s flirty advances but understanding and good-natured tendencies, you start to fall. what starts off as a work-trip soon blossoms into a budding romance, but will jimin’s secret destroy the relationship before it’s had the chance to truly begin?

word count: 5.4k

warnings: cursing, mentions of anxiety, talks of heartbreak

a/n: i thought i should post this while i had the motivation lol. this has a lot of background for their past relationships with a lil twist so i hope you enjoy it. this is the last part i have completed so updates for this story might be a while but winter break is coming up so i should have more time. i just really want to do the next part justice you know? anywhoo. as always, thank you vi for reading this beforehand and pls leave any comments and thoughts in an ask. i’m curious to the reactions of jimin’s relationship history. enjoy everyone and think you for reading!

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

There were no thoughts of Tiago when you woke up that morning. Your cheek was pressed against Jimin’s back as your arm was draped over his upper body and your leg slung over his lower back. His breathing was deep and even as he slept peacefully beside you. You realized you’d technically only taken a nap as no sunlight peeked under the curtain, only the artificial lights from the street signs gently illuminating the room.

The events of last night came rushing back to you and you pulled away from Jimin, surprised at just how bold you’d become.You’d truly felt comfortable enough to share a deep part of your life story with a man that you’d known for two days. A man that you had a crush on. A man that had almost kissed you in the middle of a dive bar in the middle of Hong Kong. Jimin was encroaching on dangerous territory.

A ping! came through on your phone which you realized was across the room with the rest of your things. You groaned at the thought of having to leave the comfortable confines of the bed. Another loud ping! dragged you from the warmth of the sheets, choosing to crawl over Jimin’s legs instead of his lap, remembering the previous morning’s antics. Checking your phone, you saw three unread messages from Michael.

Michael: Good afternoon Y/N! Have you any word on when you’ll arrive in Bali? [1:09]

Michael: So I haven’t received a call or text from you. I assume everything is fine, or Park Jimin has killed you. I hope it’s the former [4:17]

Michael: So clearly he’s killed you. I’ll be sending his name and social security number off to the authorities [4:19]

You snorted at Michael’s messages as you inched your way back into your spot though Jimin had claimed the majority of your space in his sleep. He didn’t stir as you slipped under the covers, but rested his head against your chest as you laid on your back; you didn’t have the heart to move him as you responded to Michael.

You don’t have his social security number Michael. I’m fine. We just had a long night. And our flight is leaving some time this afternoon. I’ll get the details from Jimin and send them to you

[4:22]

Michael: You don’t know that. And a long night? Y/N, don’t tell me you were in the arms of this man when you’ve only known him for at most 2 days [4:24]

So what if I was? You’ve definitely done worse

[4:25]

Michael: You’re right. But this is one of the areas where I don’t lead by example. Please tell me you used protection at least [4:26]

Gross, Michael. Nothing happened. We just went to the museum (I saw Garland Sans) and then went for dinner and some drinks

[4:27]

Michael: A museum, dinner, AND drinks? In ONE night? Sounds like a date. A classy one at that since you said there was no fucking [4:29]

Michael: AND YOU SAW GARLAND SANS WITHOUT ME?! WITH HIM?! HOW DARE YOU! [4:30]

You’re honestly so crude. There was no fucking. It was just a casual hangout, nothing crazy. Also, I didn’t know his work was going to be there. I don’t think it’ll be the same exhibit in New York so we’re fine

[4:33]

Michael: A casual hangout where you forget to text me back? I beg to differ. Spill [4:34]

You chewed on your lip as you stared at Michael’s message. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him what happened; Michael was more than just a manager, he was also like a best friend. The problem was you didn’t really know how to describe last night. You barely understood what had transpired yourself. Throwing caution to the wind, you laid out all the details of the previous night.

Michael: … [4:53]

Michael: Y/N, this man did NOT wine and dine you and you left him hanging out to dry! Have I taught you nothing? [4:54]

Michael: I just - I cannot believe you got lucky like this. Well, not that kind of lucky. Either way, he didn’t actually kiss you so maybe he deserved that. An art curator at that. And he lives in NYC? You really are living in the moment. I’m so happy to hear after that S.O.B. [4:55]

Michael: Wait, does this mean you’re in bed together now?! [4:55]

It wasn’t that type of night! Like you said, I’ve known him for TWO DAYS. We can’t just have sex. And

I guess so; Tiago hasn’t been on my mind as much lately. Yes, Michael. We’re currently still in bed. Jimin’s sleeping

[4:58]

Michael: It’s the 21st century, Y/N. Live a little. You’re a modern-day woman. It’s been a year and a half love, I would hope he wasn’t. Not when you have a man that sounds like he’s sex on legs wrapped around your finger. [5:01]

Michael: Please send a pic. Thanks! [5:02]

He is not wrapped around my finger! And I’m definitely not just going to send you a picture of him sleeping! That’s weird!

[5:05]

Michael: Booo! This would be for the authorities Y/N. Think about your safety [5:07]

I am. So safe from you and your antics when I’m on the other side of the world. I’m going to shower, I’ll text you later

[5:09]

Michael: Oh you’re a dirty girl! Ask Jimin to join you. Remember to text me the flight details [5:12]

You chuckled at Michael’s attempt to make you uncomfortable. There was no way in hell you would do that. Jimin wasn’t wrong when he said you could barely look at him with clothes on and you blushed as the increasingly inappropriate thoughts tried to break through the barrier of unconsciousness and consciousness. You felt Jimin tug you closer as you tried to slip out of his grip again.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“To go take a shower,” you said while trying to push him off you.

“No,” he whined. “Don’t leave me.” He snuggled closer and you laughed.

“Let go, Jimin. I smell gross; I’m basically leaking alcohol from my pores at this point.”

“I don’t care. You’re warm and I want to sleep more.”

“You can still sleep while I go and shower.” You pinched his side and he jerked away from you. His glare was comical as he struggled to locate you with sleep-heavy eyes. “So you’re ticklish? Good to know.”

“You’re mean,” he pouted as he rolled over onto his stomach after you’d successfully vacated the bed. “And it’s early as fuck. Wake me up when it’s a reasonable hour to be a human being.”

“You don’t even know what time it is,” you mumbled as you closed the door on any reply Jimin could make.

You welcomed the sting of the hot water against your shoulders, soothing the knots in the back of your neck. Letting the water run through your hair, you smoothed it out of your face. Massaging your scalp was therapeutic nowadays, especially since it was so much shorter. You hadn’t grown it out in a year and a half, now enjoying the short dry time and the new woman you were; Tiago would have hated it. You sighed as he resurfaced and you washed him away again with the simple smelling body wash. By the time you were dressed in your last clean emergency clothing, your hair was already drying.

The smell of coffee welcomed you as you sat down to add the final touches to your Saipan video. It wasn’t hard to get lost in editing, your brain working overtime to adjust the exposure of the film, fade out the titles, and sync up the music. You relished the peacefulness of the early morning quiet, your life seeming to return to its normal rhythm even if just for a few moments. Your moleskine journal with edited itinerary notes sat next to the steaming second cup of black coffee just as the breakfast rush started to roll in and along with them an extremely flustered Jimin.  

“Y/N!” he crashed into the seat opposite you. “I thought you left!” His backpack sat beside yours on the floor as you stared at him confused.

“Where could I have possibly gone, Jimin?”

“I don’t know. You weren’t there when I woke up and neither was your stuff. I thought I overstepped last night and made you uncomfortable,” he said. Droplets of water fell from his hair and onto his white t-shirt. Your face softened.

“I needed some coffee. And to get some work done. You really thought I would have left you?” you asked curiously.

He shrugged and pushed his hand through his damp hair. “What reason would you have to stay?”

You opened your mouth and closed it. Jimin was right. You didn’t have to stay. It was possible that you could have just gone to the airport, given them your name, and be set - though that would have made for an awkward conversation whenever Jimin arrived as your seats were next to one another. You watched him head over to grab some food, greeting Sonia in passing, as he piled his plate high. He returned shortly after with Sonia and handed you a plate of fruit.

“She says you’ve been down here for hours and haven’t touched a thing; you need to eat. And she wanted to know if you enjoyed yesterday.” Sonia stood at the end of the table expectantly.

“It was really great. The museum was incredible. I really can’t thank you enough. And Jimin was a great tour guide. Did she see the pictures?” Jimin shook his head, his mouth stuffed with food as usual, before he thumbed the polaroids out of his wallet. Sonia cooed and the two of them chatted again, a slight blush overtaking the tips of Jimin’s ears.

“She said you look really beautiful and she’s happy you enjoyed yourself so much.” You thanked her as you chewed on a grape, wondering what else Jimin had left out of his translation. Too much was said for it to be condensed into a two-part sentence.

“What time is our flight leaving, Jimin? Michael wants me to send him the details.”

“So flight leaves at 1:40 pm and we board at 1:10 ish -“

“Holy fuck Jimin!” You slammed your laptop shut. “It’s 12:17! We have to go. Now. Fuck!” You shoved your journal into your backpack, the chair almost tipping back as you shot up from your seat. It took a few seconds for Jimin to realize just how far away from the airport you were before he too was out of his chair and shoving the last piece of pastry into his mouth. Sonia looked alarmed as you tried to return your dirty dishes until Jimin explained and she grabbed the plates out of your hands and yelled for William.

You bounced your leg as you watched William weave through the midday traffic. The leather of the seat bench stuck to the underside of your thighs. Lunch hour traffic in Hong Kong was just as bad as in New York and you willed yourself to remain calm as you cruised down the highway. The wind roared through the open windows and whipped your hair around your face. It was torture leaving the fate of your on-time arrival in the hands of a man you had literally met yesterday in a pickup truck that you were sure was a few years older than you. You envied Jimin’s ability to look peacefully out of the window at the bustling city while the coil of nerves bundled tight in your belly rolling like the waves of the deep sea.

Michael had not texted you back and you worried that somehow your phone service had been cut off again. An irrational thought because it was nearing 1 am in New York, but your brain had seemed to have left rationale back with Sonia. The comfort that your early morning wake up had given you in addition to the previous night’s adventures had been ripped away from you. It was no longer only you and Jimin in the back seat; anxiety had squeezed in beside you. Tears pricked your eyes in frustration as you prayed you wouldn’t have another delay in finally getting to Bali.

“Don’t worry, Shutterfly. We’re going to make it. You’re not missing this flight. I promise,” Jimin said to you as William followed the signs for the departure terminal. You could barely offer him a smile as the looming structure that was Hong Kong International Airport grew closer.

William pulled his truck over to the sidewalk between a Kia and a Buick, the vehicle looking extremely ancient compared to the other two. “Have a safe flight. And Sonia expects to see you both again soon okay?” William declared. Jimin hopped down and turned to help you out of the truck.

“We’ll do our best,” Jimin muttered, glancing at you. “Thank you for everything, William. I’ll let you know when we land.”

“Thank you, William. It really meant a lot, you taking me in and stuff,” you added and he gave your shoulder a squeeze through the open window as Jimin shut the door.

“You two should hurry. Go,” he shooed you towards the terminal doors. Jimin said goodbye once more and then was pulling you through the automatic doors.

The two of you breezed through the other passengers checking their luggage as you used the machine kiosks bypassing any potential cheery airline workers. Jimin trailed behind you as you zipped through the slow-moving passengers, your eyes focused on the glass doors leading towards the security checkpoint.

“Hey! Slow down, Shutterfly. We’re going to make it, even if we have to run,” Jimin said as he picked up his pace to catch up with you. You did not want to have to run. You had never run for a flight in your entire life and you did not want to start now. You bounced from side to side as you moved painstakingly slow towards the immigration officer perched on her high chair. It was already 1 pm, but no one else seemed concerned, probably actually on time for their flight. You rolled your shoulders, trying to loosen the tension nestled between them.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay.” Jimin slipped his hand under your hair, his thumb rubbing gentle circles between the base of your neck and shoulders. You sighed and removed his hand, turning to face him.

“It’s not okay, Jimin. I don’t even know if they have my bag,” you huffed. You stepped forward to hand your passport and boarding pass to the officer.

“I’m sure they do, darling. As long as you have your -”

“I remember what you said about the tag, Jimin. That doesn’t change the fact that I could land in Bali without my bag. I don’t even have enough time to ask someone about it,” you snapped while placing your camera bags into the grey bins, your shoes following after. Jimin said nothing further as he emptied his own backpack, the book he had been reading more dog-eared than when you first saw it along with a leatherbound book.

Just as you were passing through the body scanner, an announcement blared through the terminal. “This is the last boarding call for passengers Park Jimin and Y/N Y/LN on flight 7860 with services to Bali, Indonesia at Gate C9. Again, would passengers Park Jimin and Y/N Y/L/N please report to Gate C9 for flight 7860 to Bali, Indonesia? Thank you.”

“Shit,” you exclaimed, shoving your hands through your hair as another TSA officer looked over your scan. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“Alright, you’re good.” You didn’t wait for the last word to spill from his mouth before you were back in front of the conveyor belt waiting for your stuff to pass through its own scanner. Quickly and as carefully as you could, you zipped your cameras back up and tucked them into your backpack. Your hands were shaking.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I got you!” Jimin called out as he moved around you. He was already packed up and taking off by the time you’d secured your things. You stared in disbelief as you watched him run through the departure terminal, not caring how many people stared at him. It looked like you would be doing the same.

You chased after him, clutching your passport and phone in your hand, chest heaving as you watched Jimin’s head disappear further into the crowd. Fuck, he was fast. You dodged the small children that waddled along with their parents and the elderly couples that squinted up at the screens to find their correct gates. Your legs burned as you pushed through the pain, the hallways of the airport being much longer than you remembered. You couldn’t afford to miss this flight.

Rounding the corner to gate C9, the seats were empty. The rest of the passengers had already boarded the plane. A few of the airline employees milled around getting ready to close the gate. One was arguing with Jimin who refused to walk through the doors so they couldn’t close it.

“Look! There she is. I told you!” Jimin was standing in the doorway leading down the aircraft gangway, blocking the airline employees from closing the door. They looked highly irritated.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, that’s me. I’m so sorry!” you apologized while handing over your boarding pass for it to be scanned. Your face felt hot from all the attention but you pushed it down. There was nothing else to worry about.

“Have a safe flight,” the employee mumbled as he handed you back the pass. You smiled, relieved.

Jimin grinned at you as he jogged towards the plane, his hair bouncing with every step. “I told you we wouldn’t miss the flight, Shutterfly.”

Ignoring all the nasty looks you received as you walked down the aisle of the plane, you and Jimin flopped down into your respective seats, tired from your sprint to the gate. The usual airplane routine started up as the plane left the gate and you relaxed in your seat as you watched the tarmac roll by through the window. Running was not your forte and you wondered if you should have considered Michael’s offer to be his plus one at Planet Fitness more seriously. You could feel the sweat bead around your hairline. A shower would be great once you reached your accommodations. You sat up abruptly.

“Fuck,” you whispered, grabbing your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, fastening his seatbelt.

Scrolling through your numerous email notifications, you saw the one you were praying wouldn’t be there. Airbnb reservation canceled in the subject line. Fuck.

“Ma’am, could you please turn off your cell phone or switch it to airplane mode? The plane is getting ready for departure,” a stewardess chided you. You nodded and tucked it back into your pocket, dazed. In 5 hours and 5 minutes, you would be landing in Ngurah Rai International Airport with nowhere to stay for 9 days. Shit.

“You’re chewing your lip again.”

“Huh?” You looked over at Jimin who was still reading The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, his body feigning disinterest but you knew he was paying attention to you.

“You were chewing your lip. It’s your tell-tale sign that something’s wrong,” he replied as he turned the page. You opened your mouth to protest but closed it quickly. He was right.

“How did you know though?” you asked, tucking your hair behind your ear, now extremely conscious that he had been observing you.

“What are you worrying about? Your project? Y/N, it’s going to be amazing. This is what you love doing, right? You can do it,” Jimin encouraged, bookmarking his page and looking at you.

“I don’t know, Jimin. A romantic getaway? That displays passion and love? Those are things I haven’t felt in a very long time,” you noted. The memories of Tiago swirled at the corners of youe mind and you sighed in frustration that you thought about him again.

“Bullshit,” he said. Jimin tucked his book into the seatback pocket in front of him. “Love doesn’t have to only be romantic, Y/N. There are so many incredible forms of love out there. The love people have for their families, for their jobs, for their - I don’t know - neighbors they only see on Sundays because they do laundry at the same time. We love just because. There really doesn’t have to be a reason,” he finished. You stared at him. His brown eyes were bright with passion and his face was set in determination to convince you what he was saying was true. You were amazed at his belief in his own words.

“Do you think you could say that again? On film, though.” He laughed at you as you went to pull out your camera but he stopped you.

“I keep telling you, Y/N. If you want me to be your muse, all you have to do is ask,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes as you rested the camera in your lap. “But if you really do want my help, I’ll be happy to work with you on your project.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded and smiled. “Seriously. This is important to you. I want to help.”

You tried to hide your smile. Though it was something simple, Jimin supporting your craft was something you hadn’t experienced in years. People didn’t believe in the arts as much as they liked to consume it. “Thank you, Jimin. That really means a lot to me.”

“Remember I told you I’d show you what love is? This is a great way to do it.” Jimin grinned as you laughed at him.

“And what do you know about love, Mr. Park?” you asked jokingly. Jimin averted his eyes, his smile less vibrant than before.

“You’d be surprised,” he said with a shrug.

“More lessons from Mr. Park Sr.?” you joked again, poking his shoulder, trying to lighten his sudden change of mood. He chuckled lowly.

“Some. A lot I learned on my own.”

“A lot? What’s your favorite one?” you posed. You were intrigued about a Jimin who had seen these many sides of love. Who was he beforehand? How had he changed? “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “A few times. I guess you could say the last one was the worst,” he commented.

“Would you like to share?” you asked gently, not wanting to overstep your boundaries.

“I can. Especially if it’ll help you believe in love.” He wiggled his eyebrows and you shoved his shoulder gently. “I assume you’ve also had your heart broken?” You nodded. “Hmm. Well, Shutterfly. Sit back, relax, and let me tell you the story of Alexandria.” Jimin eased his seat back and turned his head to face you, his fingers laced and resting in his lap. He looked as though he was in a therapist’s office to talk about his trauma and the feelings associated with them. Depending on the nature of the story, he might need to go and see one.

“Lexa and I met during my Freshman year of college. She was tall, slim figure, very ‘plain Jane’ except for her copper-colored hair. She was really a brunette, but in certain lighting, it looked red. Then she started toning it - it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I was hanging out with a bunch of friends in the library studying for this major test when she walked by and that was it; I was a goner. We ended up having a class together the following semester where I found out she was a Sophomore -”

“Ooh! An older woman?!” You perked up in your chair at the new detail. “I never would have -”

“Pegged me for the type? We’re back on that, Y/N?” he asked with a wry grin. You blushed at the memory and sank back down.

“Continue,” you whispered sheepishly.

“So she was a Sophomore studying Psychology with a minor in Creative Writing. She was a force to be reckoned with and I thought I had no chance with her until she asked me to hang out. I honestly couldn’t believe she was interested in me. We didn’t start dating until my Junior year of college, both of us traveling abroad the previous year, and we were really happy together.” Jimin smiled fondly as he recalled the memories and your heart fluttered in anticipation of what went wrong. “I proposed at my graduation while she was -”

“Excuse me? What?!” you exclaimed, staring at him in shock. “You proposed?!” He laughed at your reaction.

“Of course. I loved her and it was the right thing for me to do at the time,” he replied. That couldn’t be it.

“You got her pregnant, didn’t you?” He laughed again, this one vibrating through his entire body as he clutched his stomach; he didn’t seem concerned about the noise level.

“No, Y/N. I proposed because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“Wow,” you breathed, amazed at his level of commitment at such a young age. To know who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with and be ready to take that risk? He had to be crazy. “Wait. How old are you?”

“I’m 26. This happened around 2 and a half years ago, I think. Well, it’s been 2 and a half years since she called off our engagement,” he added matter-of-factly.

“Fuck,” you grimaced. “What happened?”

“She fell out of love. She wasn’t there when I woke up the following morning - we had moved in together while she worked on her thesis and I started grad school. The ring was placed on a neatly written note and all of her things were gone. Said she needed a man that had a little more - she ‘couldn’t put her finger on it’. Less stoic, more spontaneous. Something like that.” Jimin shrugged, the smile no longer reaching his eyes.

“But she knew how you were when you first got together. That’s some bullshit,” you muttered. Anger flared deep in your gut as you thought about this Alexandria stealing away in the middle of the night leaving Jimin alone to deal with the consequences of her actions as the sun rose.

“No need to crucify her, Shutterfly. She made the best choice for her -”

“But she hurt you,” you interrupted, frowning.

“I don’t disagree, but she taught me my favorite lesson: love freely and without expectations. I lost myself trying to prove that I could be this manly man. That I was man enough to deserve a woman as incredible as her. I lost her because of impossible expectations I placed on myself. We were both at fault; she could have said something sooner. I just wrestle with my own transgressions more. At the end of the day, it made me a better man.”

Love freely and without expectations. How could he say that when the woman who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with left him? Alexandria was foolish to leave someone as admirable as Jimin behind. Your heart ached at him waking up and her no longer being there, having to read that she no longer wanted him. You guessed some explanation was better than having the door closed right in your face.

“And you survived all of this?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Broken hearts aren’t as bad as they seem, Shutterfly.”

“To you, Jimin. Though I don’t know how you got through that,” you said shaking your head in disbelief.

“The same way you got through yours,” he replied seriously. “Tell me about him. Why don’t you believe in love anymore?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in love anymore. I just don’t expect it to happen to me for a very long time,” you said pushing your hands through your hair. Jimin waited for you to continue expectantly. You sighed and threw your head back against the seat. “Alright, fine. His name was Tiago. I met him when I moved to California with my best friend. He was a TA in one of her classes and she introduced us. He was tall, Hispanic, with the tight ringlet curls. They were sun-bleached because he spent so much time at the beach. He had the most beautiful hazel eyes too,” you added. You don’t think there was a woman alive who could deny how attractive Tiago was.

“He was smart too, attending law school - Gould School of Law at USC to be exact. I was working as a photography assistant in a studio downtown and he seemed interested in my work. We started hanging out and after a few months, we started dating. Things were really good for a while. I thought I had found my home in him, especially after leaving Milo back in New York. I thought he understood what I was going through. He didn’t.” You closed your eyes as you breathed through the memory of the pain.

“After a year of good times, things started to get weird. Some random phone calls he started taking in other rooms, less planned dates, less attention overall. I ignored it, especially after we had a conversation about possibly moving in together. That was a little too far for me so I was thinking of giving him a key to my apartment - I had gotten a promotion at the studio I was working at and could finally afford my own place,” you said with a grin. “I went to his apartment with the key in a little box and when I knocked on the door, a woman answered.”

“Shit,” Jimin whispered. He rested his hand on your knee and you looked at him with a small smile.

“Yeah. She asked who I was - if she could help me, and before I could answer, Tiago appeared looking fresh out the shower and said I wasn’t ‘anyone important. Just a friend of a friend’s who was supposed to take their anniversary portraits’ and closed the -”

“What the fuck, Y/N?! Please don’t tell me that he closed the door in your face.” Jimin’s grip tightened as his jaw clenched. You nodded with another small smile. “That fucking asshole!” he roared. The lady in front of you turned to hush him. He ignored her.

“Mhm, he closed the door in my face. I think I stood there for 2 minutes before I called an Uber and headed home. A few days later, he texted me and told me that we couldn’t be together anymore - like no shit, dumbass. I found out through the grapevine that she had been his girlfriend for 2 and a half years on and off. They were very much on when we were dating. Remember that friend I told you I moved to Cali with? Apparently she knew but didn’t know how to break it to me. I packed up and moved to San Diego which is where I met Michael. He had seen some of my short films from a little exhibit we had on campus and thought he could help me get more work. That was a year and a half ago,” you finished.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. He was a fucking dickhead to do that to you.” You waved Jimin off.

“Michael says the same thing - actually he calls him a son of a bitch. It’s fine though. But that’s the story. I’m still healing and building up trust with people. So I believe in love, I’ve just had some bad luck with it,” you said with a shrug. “I try not to dwell on it because -”

“It makes you anxious?” Jimin suggested. You gave him a tight lipped smile. His thumb stroked over your knee in soft brushes. “Well, we won’t talk about him then. Fuck him,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Jimin,” I laughed.

“And we’ll get this project done, yeah? Together?”

You looked at Jimin. He was smiling at you, his front tooth a little crooked but gleaming nonetheless. Tiny dimples appeared around the corners of his mouth - something you hadn’t noticed before. The little sun you had been in while in Hong Kong had started to turn his skin a caramel brown and you remembered the smoothness of his skin as you laid in bed. As the corners of his eyes wrinkled with warm affection and you smiled.

“Together.”

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[carrigerpigeon]

On THE ENFORCER ENIGMA

Okay, y’all.

We need to talk about The Enforcer Enigma because I have many, many problems with it.

I’ve been sitting on my feelings for this book for a month or so, after I got my ARC of it and I read it. It’s been hard to decide what I was going to say, how I was going to approach this. Like I’ve said before, my relationship with Gail exists in a liminal space between fan and friend, and is even more complicated than that.

I’ve decided, as both a fan AND friend, that I can’t ignore the problems in this book.

Which is where this post comes from.

When I first I heard it was dealing with the Selkie mob I was excited, because I loved how ridiculous they were in the short story and I think the concept is gloriously ludicrous. But this book overall felt very contrived, very basic, and very tone deaf in a racist way. The gay boys felt objectified and cookie cutter, and the racist treatment of Judd made me very, very upset.

I’m going to get to my issues with the treatment of Judd, as best as I can as a white person with a lot to learn, but I want to start with something I am able to speak better on, and that’s the gay characters in this book.

So let’s get into it. Spoilers, obviously, and lots of talk about systematic racism and homophobia, antiblackness, stereotypes, etc.

(Also, Gail, since you follow me on this blog and I know you’ll probably see this—READ THE WHOLE THING. Think about it. And then if you’d like to talk about it, you know how to contact me.)

This is going behind a cut, not because of the content but because it’s almost 6 pages long.

The Gay Boys

Okay. Look.

I love a catty, fabulous gay boy as much as the next queer. They have a space and a place in our community. But not EVERY gay man is like this IRL. Meanwhile, in SAS, it feels like every gay male character (or close to) in this series is a waspy, catty, faaaabulous gay. Isaac, Marvin, Max, Trick, even to some extent Alec and Bryan…they’re just all the exhausting waspy, catty, fabulous gay boy that we see exhibited heavily on Drag Race and other mainstream platforms.

And like. I get it. Colin is repressed and gay and wants to be a fabulous twink. That’s fine. But it just felt like he was slipping into the stereotype all the other gay male characters inhabit in these books, and that’s really, really exhausting.

Also, I am from the East Coast, where according to my West Coast friends we apparently grow gay boys differently. I can’t say with any accuracy how much of this is true. BUT MOST OF THESE GAY BOYS ARE FROM THE EAST COAST. They lived in Boston before moving to California. So why are they like this?

It feeds into this larger trend I’ve seen in Gail’s word with fabulous, savage gay boys—from Akeldama and all his drones, to Biffy, and even Lyall. Seen over the spread, it’s harder to sweep it away as just a “modern storyline” thing or a “California storyline” thing. It’s a trend, one which I find very uncomfortable as a queer person.

There is a place and space for Queer people to take back the tropes and stereotypes that have been used against us and write them our own way. But what I’ve seen as a longtime reader isn’t that. What I seem is lazy stereotyping and an overarching stereotype and characterization that feed into the larger the ways I feel gay men are objectified by female authors (no matter how queer the author is).

Many more people have covered this topic better than I, but it explains why I’ve felt so uneasy about this series from the get go. The sex and the relationships in these books don’t feel real—it feels objectifying. There’s lots of talk about big and strong sexy, muscle-y men but very little else. And while there is something to say about having a partner who thinks you’re sexy—that’s important, and I want everyone to have that…. this isn’t that.

These are muscle-y, strong, sassy gay men for cis white women to coo over on Facebook and feel good about. But to me, a real life nonbinary queer person, I feel uneasy and frankly uncomfortable with the objectification of them.

And since we’re talking about queer representation, after having a decent wlw spread in the Parasolverse there are two WLW (specifically lesbians) in SAS (Trickle and Pepper) and they (a) barely get any screen time and (b) feel stereotypical to me. And they are side characters, so I get it, but seriously?

And also while we’re on queer representation, there’s Mana, aka Manifest Destiny. Mana is the drag queen and arguable trans woman* who started off alright BUT was named after the colonization and violent taking of Native and Indigenous people’s lands and wrapped up in patriotism. Gail has said she made a mistake, that she meant her name to be Mana From Heaven, and that this would be addressed in the upcoming book (aka The Enforcer Engima).

It was not.

There is talk, from what I understand, this issue will be addresses in the upcoming short story about Mana and Lovejoy. But there are several throwaway lines about Mana in this book, her work in LA and her becoming a drag queen superstar (I guess akin to RuPaul?). So why wasn’t her name change discussed or even mentioned there?

[*Sidebar: Mana has been quoted as saying, “I suppose I should be transgender, under modern parlance. But I like drag queen. It suits me. I like the fabric roughness of drag, and the royalty of queen. It's a nice change to have the luxury of choosing one's own semantics, if not one's own situation." But whenever she appears, it seems she’s always in face/wearing false eyelashes/wearing women’s clothing.

I’m not going to police Mana’s trans experience because gender is a spectrum, and I as someone under the trans umbrella know that. But it feels…weird and off to me.]

Regardless of my sidebar, the name she was supposed to have, Manna from Heaven is…also sort of problematic? If I understand the reference correctly, it refers to the Biblical story of the food that God miraculously provided to the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness. It means as a phrase the coming of unexpected benefit or assistance, especially when that benefit/assistance comes at the time when it is needed most. Which is what Mana is for the pack—she lets them live in her apartment in Book 1, she swoops in to save the day in Book 2. But it feels…very white and more than a little gross to name a character with Chinese and Japanese ancestry after something from the Bible.

And then there’s Judd.

Oh, Judd.

I really wanted to like Judd. The premise of his character was interesting, a Black, Pre-Saturation werewolf shifter, and I liked his cameos in the other books. But then we got a book about him, and it all fell apart.

Judd is a gay Black character, pre-Saturation, meaning he’s old as hell (from the Parasolverse time). He is objectified like the other gay boys, and there’s a lot of talk about how hard and strong his muscles and how sexy he is. He’s depicted on the cover this way.

And that’s…fine I guess, but gay Black men frequently have their bodies objectified as Black and muscley and strong. He’s also a pack Enforcer, so he’s depicted as not very smart and very violent. All of those are racist stereotypes that Black men deal with constantly, and they are racist stereotypes and tropes that are constantly hurled at Black men by the system and by society.

Additionly, Judd, the only Black member of the pack, is the only werewolf in the series to carry a gun.

A Black man. Is the only member. To carry a gun.

Yeah.

It gets worse.

There is mention of Judd’s backstory—very heavy inferences to Phineas/Soap (whose problematic naming convention and descriptors have been talked about especially by jhenne-bean ) being his mentor until he gets kicked out of Sidheag’s pack—but it falls very flat. I understand not wanting to write too much history of a Black character as a white writer, especially after tenuously connecting that history to the traditionally published series you’re Not Connected SAS To Not At All….

But.

Judd is over 150 years old.

He lived through some of America and Canada's worst racial discrimination, discrimination which would have affected him and his habitus and the way he moves through the world. He’s a gay Black man, and his gayness and his Blackness does not appear to affect how he interacts with the world at all. The police are called at the beginning and he’s OKAY ABOUT IT? AS A BLACK MAN? He basically says, “Thank God, the cops are here.”

You had a BLACK MALE CHARACTER SAY THAT when we’ve had a nationwide conversation since 2013, a conversation that has been reignited in the past three months?

Like????

And I was willing—perhaps whitely and naively—to give Gail the benefit of the doubt with Soap/Phineas. E&E was written in 2011, before Black Lives Matter was founded, before we began to have this nationwide reckoning with how Black and brown folks are treated systematically and especially by police violence. These conversations were definitely being had in 2011, but they were seen as fringe discussions and not necessarily part of the mainstream narrative as it is today.

However. It’s not 2011. It’s 2020.

It’s been 7 years since BLM was founded, and there have been countless discussions happening about racism and systematic issues in publishing and with white writers writing Black characters since that point.

Soap/Phineas has been mentioned or has cameo’d in The Custard Protocol and in Meat Cute. There’s been no conversation about his name or the way he has been described  And both he and Judd fall into the Caring-POC-Partner trope which has been discussed very heavily in romance circles and in ways I am not necessarily equipped to discuss in this post. But I will link to this post for everyone to read: https://medium.com/@ashiamonetb/queer-love-interests-of-color-and-the-white-gaze-8928b7b5e6ad

It’s 2020. These conversations have been being had, quite fervently, for many years, so there’s absolutely no excuse with how Judd is approached or treated in this book.

And here’s the CRUX of all this.

This book isn’t even really about Judd.

It’s about Colin.

Even though Judd is on the cover of the book, in all of his objectified Black body goodness, the plot of the story is about Colin. It’s very much entrenched in Colin’s issues with his family and his identity. Judd is there to take care of Colin and ~guide~ him and ~teach~ him things. To protect him. To be sexy to him.

See the medium article above. See the conversation about objectification above.

So if this book is SO MUCH ABOUT COLIN, why is Judd on the cover?

Why is Judd naked and glistening and Black on the cover of the story about the trials and tribulations of a white twink?

…Do I really have to say it? Maybe I do. It’s racist.

It might not be intended that way, but it is.

And look. There were parts of this book that I found enjoyable. I am still a fan of Gail’s wit and the way she writes. I’m a sucker for the found family trope, which all of these books have, and I really like Trick and Marvin. I’ve been where Colin is. I’ve fucked around with my gender presentation and been scared to out and fabulous or be perceived a certain way because I present a certain way.

But I’m really frustrated and frankly ANGRY with the racist stereotypes and gay stereotypes present in this book. It doesn’t feel like this was sensitivity read at all, by anyone. The book feels like a culmination of racist and homophobic trends that make me feel that Gail hasn’t been paying attention or listening to the cultural reckoning happening nationwide or in publishing.

And yes, there is a lot of “don’t idolize authors” talk, but here’s the thing.

Gail isn’t some anonymous author to me, someone I can just cancel and be done with.

Gail is a mentor to me. We’ve hung out at multiple cons, shot the shit about publishing, and talked about queer shit together with. We aren’t close, but she’s a friend (liminal space, etc). She gets a Christmas card from me every year, she asks after my partner when we chat. We’ve been in each other’s orbits for TEN YEARS.

I have this entire sideblog dedicated to her books, for fucks sake.

So when I read shit like this, it makes me upset. This book is a pile of microaggressions that stacked into a macroagression. It’s insensitive, definitely hurtful, and feels exceptionally tone deaf (AT BEST) to have written and released this book.

She has people in her inner circle who could have caught this if we’d been allowed to read it before hand, if we’d been a part of the beta process. But we weren’t. And it shows.

Gail, this is a message directly for you: You talk a lot about supporting people. You reblog lots of #ownvoices work and have been plugging a lot of #ownvoices fiction. I know (or at least hope) you’re a good person.

SO WHAT HAPPENED?

Why is this book such a disaster?

Have you been listening at all?

And I get it, we all have things to learn and things to unlearn. As white ally, and as a member of the queer community, as someone in your inner circle and as a friend (liminal space!), I get it.

I’m also saying this isn’t ok.

This book that you’ve written is not okay. Not even a little bit.

Here’s the thing: you can fix it (or you can try). It’s gonna be hard and require difficult conversations and actions, but you can.

If you want to know more, if you want to talk: you know how to contact me. I’ll give you my number. We can email, Skype, Zoom, text, call, whatever. I know I’m not the only member of the Pigeons that feels this way. You have people here to help.

As for everyone else:

As might be apparent I have…a lot of feelings right now. I’ve loved these books for so long, made a friend (liminal space!) with the author through social media. Genevieve Lefoux, and Sidheag, and Aggie, and lots of other characters mean a lot to me. Gail’s books have helped me through hard times and hard places, and she’s influenced a lot of whom I am as a writer.

But right now having this blog, dedicated to all these books with this massive subthread of racism and stereotypes, feels…not great.

And I don’t know if I can continue to support Gail and continue to be a fan (and a friend) if she keeps up with this.

[dayseternal-blog]

Dude.

Over 10,000 Hits 🎉

I am alarmed, I have been alarmed from the start.

This is still a celebration post, but unlike my unashamed Nightdreams celebration post, this one is an unashamed reflection celebration post 🌱.  On something I’ve spent quite a bit of effort and time on, whether I actually finish this story or not (lol I will), it’s a story to be proud of.  And it’s something I’d like to articulate my feelings on before I end it for good 🎀.

Below the cut is a very long trash love letter 💌 to myself and anyone who’d like a peek at my narcissism.  I am a slut for self-reflection.

Ahead of that, thank you for enjoying my stuffs everyone 💝. 

I often think to write for myself and for fun, that no one else will love my fic more than me or have more fun than me...  That’s idealistic.  That’s a mindset to keep.  Especially as a new fic writer when no one recognized my username, it was a way to keep myself from losing motivation.  May agitosgirl always be my inspiration and role model🙏🏼.

But I wonder how can I return to that mindset in its purest form?  When I wrote It’s No Secret, I was ecstatic to hit 500 views.  I had about 5 readers who motivated me with their comments, and it was all very precious.  And It’s No Secret continues to be my favorite fic even though it’s far from my tightest writing.  (Isn’t it because I actually wrote that one just for myself?  Comments and kudos were all just bonus points.)

White Lilies is probably one of my least favorite stories.  If I were to rank my fics in order of preference, it would be near the bottom.  If I were to rank my fics in order of “fics I’d like NarutoDays (DAYS8) to be remembered for,” White Lilies would not be at the top, either.  I almost dislike that White Lilies is the story that caught people’s attention.

The best entertainment to me is inconsequential shows like HGTV, Say Yes to the Dress, and sparkly shoujo manga.  How is it that people don’t feel the same way??? lol jk

But to persevere in a story, that is a part of growth as a fic writer, too.  And to write for others’ enjoyment more than my own, that’s not a bad thing, even though I felt more stress...

OH but those White Lilies arts are certainly my faves.  Gorgeous and very good.  Yes.  Amazing on all accounts.  I wonder if I would have kept writing without them.    No?  Probably no, right?  Yeah, I would have stopped.  Since I started the story to just scratch the itch “Medicine” gave me.  Once that mosquito bite faded around chapter 3, I was ready to move on.  But now, very tangibly, other people I admire very much in the fandom spent actual time and effort in creating lovely pieces for the story.  I was blessed and that’s not something to ignore.  I mean, I could have.  At the most, that would just be disappointing.  At the least, White Lilies would be another hiatus fic in my list.  

Jeez, but it would be even more hypocritical to not acknowledge that the attention was very nice.  I can go so far as to say that I expected someone to keep giving me the affirmation that this junk was good since I wasn’t giving myself any kick of enjoyment.  Is that still dishonest.  I think I told a reader of White Lilies that I don’t ask people for comments or kudos.  That’s true, I don’t ask.  But I’ve expected it for White Lilies for the past few chapters.  Ew.  That’s gross Days, I hate that.  What if I closed comments on the last chapter of White Lilies.  That might be good.  Well I don’t have a good enough reason to do that.

I wonder if that’s why I dislike White Lilies.  Not for its angst.  Not for its difficult feelings and its difficult romance...well, actually, no, I dislike White Lilies for those reasons.  But on top of those things, the story has altogether gone against my foundation and motivation in fic writing.  Did I have fun.  ?  The comment section at the beginning was very stressful.  OMG no I shall never forget that one reader who got way too emotional about the story and made my comment section such a mess!  Why didn’t that reader put their little comments into one big comment.  For real.  Plus, it was an anon reader.  Don’t anonymous readers need to put their email address in every time they comment?  How humbug is that?  My goodness.

Oh ho ho nooooo that one reader who freaking told me to fix my writing using Grammarly.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.  AHHHHHHHHHH.  AHHHHHHHHHH

...

So after that when I moderated the comments, I actually started to enjoy reading comments again.  Huh.  SO ACTUALLY when did I finally not feel anxiety anymore about the comment section.  Not until Chapter 5?  But that was the chapter I wasn’t happy with and ended up revising the ending after I published it.

I mean to tell myself that it’s only this most recent Chapter 6 that I felt good and normal and 安心 and ホッとしている to update.  I’m not kidding myself, what I terrible thing to realize now.  No wonder I dislike White Lilies.  The overall experience has not been that great.

Well “great” is too general a way to describe writing this story.  There’s been many wonderful things.  The new attention and recognition and compliments and gratitude were amazing.  The art.  The playlist.  The funny reader impatience in the asks 👏🏼.

OOOOOOOh the Bookmark summaries!!!!  

Hilarious 😂😂😂😂😂.  I love these too much.  These summaries give me life.  White Lilies in a nutshell.

Ahh yeah.  So funny.  Those are so good.  gogohai been making me laugh since August.

Remember at the start, I was so confused by the hit count on chapter 1 🤔.  I thought it was a bunch of antis accidentally clicking in, or SasuNaru fans or something, so I made those notes at the top that clearly stated how I’m not anti-NH.  It turns out everyone’s masochists for angst lol.

Anyway, I know I’ll finish this story.  What a strange feeling.  I think it must be because I worked so hard through the slumps already between Chapter 3 & 4, and Chapter 4 & 5, and Chapter 5 & 6, I know Chapter 7 will certainly happen, too.  How nice.

You know, White Lilies, it is what it is.  I have desensitized from mean comments.  Like, I think comments can’t hurt me anymore.  I’ll just be like 🤷🏻‍♀️ in response.  The attention on this story boosted my ego so much that I now know without a doubt that my writing is good enough and anyone who tells me otherwise can go ahead bumbai get bachi.

That’s really good.  For how unenjoyable it has been at many times, I have definitely sacrificed “fun” for “the sense of accomplishment,” and it’s not wrong or less valuable to spend my free time seeking accomplishment and completion in something so inconsequential as fanfiction.

However this story flipped my sense of purpose in writing, where accomplishment became tied to reader feedback.  Accomplishment usually ties to my sense of fun and enjoyment.  Instead I’ve been seeking that sense of fun in the readers, whether through their own personal enjoyment or through the number of comments/kudos/likes/reblogs.  How boring is that?  Ah!  Very boring.  It’s not wrong to seek validation through the readers.  Many writers and artists want their work to be seen and enjoyed by many because the act of sharing is in itself joyful.  Fine.  Haven’t I just found this a very tiring way to go about posting my stuff.  

I am nostalgic for my mentality of two years ago.

It’ll be good to finish White Lilies.  The excitement will be done and over with certainly, and this same amount of attention will never happen again.  As one of the nerdiest nerds in one of the nerdiest corners of nerdy fandom called Fanfiction, it’s a privilege to have my imagination on so many other people’s browser, to transport so many people away from their real life problems to fake problems instead lol, and to participate in an exchange of ideas with other writers and artists in the Naruto fandom.  What a great thing!

It’ll be even better to focus completely on stuff that I actually like, though, won’t it 💖.

[fatbottombucky]

Sometimes... I think he’s here *Billy Hargrove x Reader*

Summary: Reader suffers ptsd after the Mind Flayer battle. Most importantly, everywhere he turns he sees Billy. Reminded of his once friend, and past crush.

Pairing: Implied/platonic Billy X [M]Reader

Warnings: Stranger Things spoilers/ character death/ angst mixed with feels, and a lot of gay fluff- use of the words “fag” -light homophobic tendencies

Note: I know Billy is this ignorant asshole but I get a feeling within me that he’d actually like attention from anyone. So when reader, Will’s older brother (but year younger than Jonathan) helps him pick up chicks, whilst having a gay crush on him- he wouldn’t be as dick-ish to him. He’d still be a complete asshole, but he’d have moments. And those moments are what reader keeps remembering

Idk really know what I wrote. I just really feel like Billy was screwed over. They had a chance to really pull another Steve, give a shitty character a good character development, but they kinda did it- only to kill him (and before people come at me, I hated s1 Steve a bit. But he redeemed himself, ya know)

First time you interacted with Billy was at Byers house. The night he beat Steve up and you high tailed outta there with his car- Max driving.

~~The second time... you’re alone at the video store. Picking some stupid movie to watch as you did homework. He walked in, an air of calmness about him. His hands deep in his jacket pockets, the white shirt underneath hardly buttoned. His hair hardly styled at all- you assumed anyway.

He languidly walked to the horror section, meaning his standing opposite you, flipping through the VHS covers with a laziness of movement. He doesn’t even look at you or even realise you’re there. Does he even care? Probably, not. Max said he’s pretty much not talked to her, but they seem to be on mutual playing fields.

“Tammy loves horrors,” you find yourself speaking up but your eyes cast at the trashy romance movies in front of you, you can feel his stare. “She’s the one you’re seducing tonight, right?”

He scoffs, “what’s it to you?” His voice is deep with his demand of an answer.

“She’ll completely ignore your advances if you pick a horror, trust me. I grew up with Tammy, the girl is a horror junkey.” You pluck a movie, making show of turning it to read the summary on the back.

There’s a silence and you think he’s wondered off, steering clear of your weirdo self.

“What would you suggest then, Byers?” You look up in time to see him cock an eyebrow, his head nodding for you to go ahead and make his night.

You turn around abruptly and walk towards the action section, Billy hot on your tail.

“Oh, there he goes,” Arms crossed across his broad chest; amused by this. He watched as you pick up a movie, First Blood.

“She hates action, she’ll get bored and likely make the first move,” you watch as he frowns with your choice. “Don’t Like First Blood?”

“Love it,” that surprises you. “Snuck into the theatre to see it when it came out,” he takes the movie from you and flashes a grin. “Thought you were queer, and hated me.”

Statement not entirely false. You look away because that seems to be the news, you’re gay and that means clearly there’s something adherently wrong with you. You disliked Billy, yes. He’s an asshole, especially to your friends.

“Uh-I guess, I’m feeling super gay enough to help you out,” you shrugged and expected him to leave, but he laughed.

“I appreciate the insider knowledge, especially if it gets me laid, Byers,” he pays your shoulder a little too roughly but you smile slightly. “If you’ve screwed me over though, Imma beat you up worse than I did to Harrington.” ~~

You’re staring blankly at the empty action aisle. Your eyes emotionless, body slack and complacent. You didn’t know how long you’d be off in your own little world, long enough to get Steve and Robin concerned, both watching as you blink out of your trance.

“Y/N, bro, you okay?” Robin calls and you look at her, nodding quickly and walking over to the duo. “Been staring at that crappy Rambo movie for a good ten minutes,” she tilts her head.

“First Blood isn’t crappy,” you defend a little harshly, Steve raises his eyebrows, “uh-sorry. I’m feeling a little tired, I’ll see you later,” you softly touch Steve’s shoulder before exiting.

You get into your car and start it up, a deep sigh leaving your body.

It had been two months since that night. The night you battled the Mind Flayer, the night Eleven (and you) got to Billy, finally, only it was all in vain. At least, he was himself when he died but he shouldn’t have died anyway.

You stop at a red light, almost home.

~~

“Byers,” you look up from the drivers window to see Hargrove stepping to you, smirk settled on his pretty face, “I owe you one.”

You frowned, eyebrow raising at his cocky smile. Only it fades when he leans down, resting an arm on top of you car, his face at level with your own. You short circuit cause, woah, his eyes are that blue. His earring dangles as he tilts his head, a smirk pulling up the right side of his mouth.

“Wow,” you’re snapped outta your daze, “you’re such a fag.” He taps the roof and raises his eyebrows in a mocking expression, “just wanted to tell ya it worked, got into Tammy’s pants last night. But clearly you’re getting some gay boner over me,” he chuckles when you scoff, rolling your eyes.

You sighed a little, “You’re welcome, Billy. Glad I got you laid,” he smiled brightly at that. “Betta get going before everyone at schools think you’re gay too, cause that’s how it works- clearly.”

Billy stopped you, “Ohh, no, you’re not getting off that easy. I’ve scored a date with Stacey... Dw-“ he stops himself to think and you raise your eyebrows, “she’s got really big boobs and, I think, blonde hair.”

“You think?” You chuckled as he shrugged, “sounds like Jessica Randell,” he nodded, clicking his fingers because it sounded familiar to him, “I swear, what girls see in you, I don’t know, you’re impossible.” ~~

A car honking draws you from the memory, you quickly start your car back up, signalling an apology before driving home.

You laid down on your bed, room half packed up and memories all boxed away. Except one. The red lifeguard cap, sitting aimlessly on top a pile of clothes. It sparked interactions you had forgotten, willed yourself to not dwell on, only because it’s what sparked... a weird thing between you Hargrove, an unspoken thing. Working that summer job, with Billy, was singularly the best decision you ever had.

~~He walked with such an air of confidence you forgot to get down from the lifeguard chair. The whistle was carelessly drapped around his neck, swaying with each precise step he took.

Everyone noticed him. Girls watched with seductive eyes - even mums, kind of disturbing but you didn’t dwell on it- guys watched from afar, either willing to be him or loathing him.

Working this job has been kind to Billy. It gave him the ability to rule all, to assert his dominance across the swimming civilians. It allowed him to have attention, something you’ve realised he craves, a lot. He likes people looking at him. He also got a nice tan, plus he was allowed to use the gym within the building for free, so he really toned up.

“You know,” his voice snaps you back, “I was grossed out by your staring for a while but it’s growing on me.”

You quickly step down, cheeks and body warming up at being caught, plus his words. You can’t look at him, even through his aviators you can feel his smug stare.

“Do me a favour?” He leaned against the chair, crossing his arms as does, “go get me a bottled water?” His smile is infectious, too.

You nod silently and walk off towards the vending machine, passing the lounging mothers who are bidding for Billy’s attention. You turn to see who he’s picked today, his up in the chair, glasses on his head but he’s watching you like a hawk.

Almost tripping into the building you run to the machine, grabbing the loose change in your trunk pocket and shakily punching the buttons for his water. Why are you acting this way over him? It’s Billy Hargrove. You have no chance. Doesn’t mean you can’t admire and crush on him. **

In the locker rooms, as the other staff leave. You’re left alone with your thoughts. Only half dressed you can’t find it within yourself to actually get up and Leave.

“Byers,” Billy’s unsurprised voice makes you jump, you look up to see Billy in a towel as he walks passed you to his own.

This past week working alongside had been... weird. The comments, the looks, the weird attention he gave you. It was like he was messing with you, only it felt very serious and... flirty.

“I think,” you begin, “I might quit.” You don’t know why you tell him your plan, you look up to gage his reaction. He stops and looks at you.

“Gonna leave me?” Be fakes being wounded by your confession, but eyes give him away, he’s hurt by this news- maybe it’s because you’re actually friends with him. You go to speak but he stops you, “let me guess, to work at Scoops Ahoy?”

Venom laces his words. For the first time, in a long time, this is the Billy everyone knows making an appearance to you. He dislikes people walking out on him, leaving him first. He prefers to be the one to leave, you don’t know why and you’ve come to terms with the fact you’ll never really know him.

“Work alongside Steve Harrington, right?” He steps to you, you stand up and shake your head, “Don’t lie, Y/N, I know you’ve got some fucked up crush on him. I saw how you acted when he came by yesterday,” so he is watching you.

“...I’ll stay,” you mutter, “if you want me to.”

His breathing his rapid. Making his shoulders move up and down with his intakes and exhales, his nostrils flare and he frowns. He looks away, confusion and worry etching on his face... he’s scared.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “besides... be a fool to give up this job,” he looks at you, “I mean, get paid to see you shirtless. Kinda a win, right?” You nod once, an affirmation of understanding.

You both dress in silence. Not looking at one another due to what just happened, he may have not outright said it but you got it. He doesn’t want you to quit, or leave him, he may not know why... but you do. And you’re not gonna pressure him because it’s Billy, he still likes girls; you’re just some weird exception.

You glance at Billy, who is pulling on his jacket and not looking at you. Clearly having a mental battle of his own, you feel slightly guilty for putting him in there. Turning to the door, you sling your bag over your shoulder and grab the handle.

Then your slammed against it, pulled to face Billy. The air being slammed out of you, you barley have time to comprehend what’s happening before you feel lips on yours. They’re soft but dominant. The kiss radiates a lot of pent up emotions, it’s full of hatred passion, yet it’s nice.

His hands are pulling you to him, gripping the lapels of your jacket, your own are just softly holding his shoulders. He tilts your head up a bit, deepening the kiss and you taste mint- peppermint bubblegum to be exact. ~~

“Boys!?” Your mother calls loudly, shutting the front door. You don’t answer straight away, you will yourself up and towards the kitchen, “Oh, there he is. I haven’t seen you since yesterday morning-“

Her voice becomes faint to you as you stand staring at something on the table. Eyes unable to not look at it, they tear up because you had been searching for it.

“Where did you find that?” You choked out, Joyce looks at you and then to the table.

Motel 6 key lays casually on top. Door number 106, motel a few miles away from Brimbone Steel Warehouse.

“Oh, it was in that tattered up jacket of yours,” she studies you for a moment. You nod, a faint “Oh” leaving you. “...wanna talk about it?” Voice soft.

~~ “Leaving so soon?” You look up, a smile gracing your face as Billy saunters up to you.

You hadn’t talked about the kiss, well, kisses. Heavy make out sessions would be accurate, they’re always late at night. Secluded areas where no one can see you, often a few days between because Billy will kiss you but leave, won’t talk to you for a while- ends up talking to some girl at the pool- but comes back.

“Uh-Gotta pick up Will, take him to the mall,” you make show of grabbing your keys from your pocket. “See you tomorrow?” You step away but Billy grabs your forearm.

He steers you seat from prying eyes to a closet, you chuckle into the darkness about to make some stupid comment but lips are slotted over yours. Shutting you up.

Another set of keys is placed into your other hand, you pull away and look down in confusion before at Billy.

“I’ll see you tonight. Ten o’clock, don’t be late,” he pushes away from you before leaving the closet- not casting a look back. Your heart is beating rapidly cause you know what this means, and you’re nervous but excited. ~~

Your mother holds you as you cry into her shoulder, holding the key in your hand. The last day Billy was... Billy, he hadn’t shown up at the motel 6, you figured he changed his mind. You didn’t blame because, well, you weren’t anything special to him. Some weird game or phase, you didnt really care or minded. You don’t hear the front door open or feel the few stares at you.

“Sometimes... I think he’s still here,” you whisper. “I keep seeing him everywhere I look, I want to forget because I know- I know I didn’t matter to him, but-“ you break off and pull away.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head at her words, “he was your... friend, you’re gonna miss him.”

You sighed, finally seeing Max and Eleven watching you. A faint understanding of who you’re talking about, heck, apparently you were a significant memory in Billy’s life- so El says. You want to believe her, even if you did help Billy in his last moments, but you know, deep down, it was just a summer fling.

“I just want to leave this town,” you mutter.

Eleven watches you slink off to your room. The door closing softly.

~~ “Billy, look at me,” he blinks up from Eleven to you, tears running down his face as he holds Eleven under him.

Half himself, half the Mind Flayer still. His face tells you he wants to break free, his body and hands are still under its spell.

“Remember that day, at the video store?” Mike and Max tilt their head in confusion, “and I helped you pick a movie to bore Tammy into having sex with you? I like to think that was the start of our friendship,” you somehow chuckle despite the situation, Eleven glances from you to Billy, his hands softening enough for her to wiggle free. “Then I spent almost three hours with you, planning a date for Jessica- only she bailed, so we went to the arcade and you stole those kids tickets and I beat the high score on Mind Tricks.”

The noises around you becomes nothing as Billy stands, he’s panting and looking confused, yet terrified. Finally, he looks at you, blinking a few times.

“I bailed on Jessica,” he stutters out and you choke a little, “I bailed on her.” Is all he says before he faces the Mind Flayer. ~~

Your door opens and you see the girls, smiling softly at you. You raise an eyebrow at them, you hadn’t talked about that night with anyone. It was an unspoken request that no one brought up Billy around you, especially Max. You didn’t want them to ask about it because you don’t have answers, you just know that, you and Billy, had this unspoken connection- relationship- friendship- whatever it was.

Sometimes you get the feeling that if you never took that summer job... he’d still be alive.

“Wanna watch Back to The Future?” El asks with a soft smile.

(Check out my Steve Harrington fic HERE, let me know what you think also)

[kenzieam]

Linked - Chapter Two

Rating: M (smut, language, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

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Bucky and Levi find themselves connected through tragedy, can they let go of the past to find their future????

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I have not added to this since last September, shame on me!! Reread Chapter One here and let me know if I should continue with the story.

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WHAT ARE YOU DOING? The voice in Bucky’s head screamed. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY NO! DANGER, DANGER! You don’t want to get involved with this! She doesn’t want you; YOUR WIFE KILLED HER HUSBAND... HER HUSBAND KILLED YOUR WIFE. WALK AWAY!

His mind was screaming loud enough that it wouldn’t surprise Bucky if Levi could actually hear his thoughts and he winced internally as he caught sight of her hand, clutching white-knuckle tight to her messenger bag.

Shit.

Despite his misgivings, Bucky nevertheless sat at the table the hostess indicated, pausing awkwardly as he debated holding out Levi’s chair for her. She sat quickly, however, as if expecting him to offer and not wanting it. King clamored into his own chair; reaching for a menu, asking for a chocolate milk and maintaining a rundown of the best parts of their game all at the same time and Bucky couldn’t hide a smile. He would rather rip his tongue out by the roots than admit it, especially in his present company, but King had become very precious to him in a short amount of time and he very much looked forwards to seeing the little guy. Maria had been totally against the subject of children, but Bucky had always wanted to be a dad. He needed to be careful though, he knew, for this was a minefield he wasn’t sure he would ever be either ready or able to walk through.

“What do you want, Coach? I want pizza!”

“King, keep it down.” Levi chastised gently.

“Sorry, mom.”

“It’s alright, just use your inside voice, okay?”

“Okay.”

Levi’s eyes flicked unwillingly towards him. “What do you want, Mr. Barnes?” She asked softly, sounding nervous.

Jesus, doll. You. “Call me Bucky, please. Pizza sounds good...?” Bucky offered shyly.

Pizza safely ordered (half-pepperoni, half-Hawaiian – gross, mom!), Bucky cleared his throat and asked tentatively, his heart hammering in fear. “How are you liking it here so far?”

Levi looked startled for a micro-second before answering. “It’s nice. I met Nat and Steve right away, so that made everything so much easier, I-” a loud chime interrupted her, and she flushed. “Sorry.”

Bucky watched as Levi reached down and rustled in her messenger bag, pulling out a tablet and tapping quickly at it before tucking it back inside.

“Sorry about that,” she repeated. “That was a client.”

“What do you do?” Bucky blurted, his nerves loosening his tongue. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s alright. I’m a graphic designer; but lately I’ve been designing a lot of book covers.”

“Like novels?”

“Yeah, just small time. First-time authors, independents, people that haven’t really made it big yet.”

“How does that work?”

Levi flushed, glancing down at her glass before answering, her fingers toyed with the condensation forming at the base, drawing small but enchanting patterns. “I’m compiling a catalogue of images and pictures of subjects; I snagged some professional editing software a while ago and can manipulate a stock image fairly realistically. Some are live models, others are no-license. The client emails me what they’re looking for, I make something up and send them a few choices; it’s fairly straightforward really.”

“Live models... like pictures of real guys, like Fabio?”

Levi giggled, a sound that arrowed straight into Bucky’s heart. “Not that famous, but a few wannabe models have let me take their picture, usually in exchange for a series of headshots. They get their portfolio; I get a few brooding pics.”

“Shirtless?” Bucky wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but the idea intrigued him.

“Yes, mostly. Why, are you volunteering?” Levi snapped her mouth shut in shock. What the fuck is gotten into you?

Now Bucky flushed, eyes flicking to Levi’s for a heartbeat; a shy grin pulling at his mouth and the sight arrowed straight into Levi’s heart. “Think I’d make it?”

Fuck, yeah. But I don’t want to share. "I think you’d do. Romance readers love a dark and handsome mystery.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Bucky teased, loving the way Levi’s face went so adorably red, her amethyst eyes widening as she realized her slip.

Finally, the universe took pity; Levi was saved from answering by the arrival of their pizza and King’s triumphant shout.

The next few minutes were spent eating, King devouring his slice with typical 5-year-old gusto.

“How do you like coaching so far?” Levi asked, wiping tomato sauce from her bottom lip, something Bucky suddenly and desperately wanted to do with his tongue.

Bucky struggled to focus on her question and not her plump lips and what they would look like wrapped around his cock.

What the fuck, dude???

“A lot actually. I didn’t expect to, honestly; I was just going to help Steve out a bit. I played soccer in high school and a bit for my university team, so I guess he figured I knew what I was doing.”

“You played for your university? You must have been good.”

Bucky flushed. “Yeah,” he hedged, unsure whether he should mention that he had already been drafted in the pros. “But I busted up my knee pretty bad and decided to get out.”

“That must have sucked.” Lev offered quietly, looking surprisingly upset at the news.

Bucky nodded, clearing his throat. “I lucked out with a good surgeon. I signed up for the military and, after a couple of tours I got out and into security. Mostly I just consult now.”

“Is that how you met Steve?”

Bucky couldn’t stop a wide smile. “Yeah, he wanted me to review and streamline the security system for his business.” He hesitated before adding, “I was always pretty mobile with that anyways, consulting all over the country, sometimes the world. I didn’t need to stay in one place, so... it made it easier when I decided to move… after-”. He broke off, Levi would know exactly what he meant without him spelling it out.

“Yes.” Came her quiet reply. “I understand... About that, did you ever-”

“No.” Bucky kept his voice gentle even as his heart raced. “Not now, please.”

Levi nodded shyly, her cheeks going pink. King had fallen silent, looking between the two adults, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asked, a pizza slice forgotten in his hand.

Levi sent Bucky a beseeching look. She’d not told King who Bucky was. At most, he knew that his coach’s wife had died, but he didn’t know that she’d taken his father with her.

“Nothing, buddy.” Bucky grinned in King’s direction, but Levi could see the faint tightening at the corners of his eyes. Fortunately, King, who was uncannily observant, even for a child, took Bucky’s lie at face value and happily tucked back into his pizza.

‘Sorry,’ Levi mouthed, and Bucky shook his head gently, returning quietly to his pizza.

Lev refused to let Bucky pay for full bill, insisting on half and completely crushing any thoughts that this had been anything but an entirely platonic meal.

But, whether by luck or serendipity, they found themselves again at May’s after the next game, sharing a table due to King’s enthusiastic ‘Coach! Sit with us!’ that he’d bellowed across the room.

The third time was planned, and Levi felt herself almost ashamed at how much she began to look forward to aftergame pizza with Coach Barnes.

*****************************************************************

King ran ahead, hollering at the top of his lungs to his teammates, who shouted and yelled back. Levi followed behind, trudging really, she’d not gotten much sleep last night, and stumbled, biting back a surprised squawk, when a soccer ball connected suddenly with her temple. She staggered, clutching at her head but the ball hadn’t been flying with too much force and it had startled her more than anything else.

“Hey!” Bucky appeared like magic, the offending ball in his hands. He touched her shoulder, peering into her face with concern. “You okay?”

Lev nodded, not wanting to make a scene, she probably could have avoided being hit if she’d been more cognizant of the field, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Fucking Seymour. I’ll handle this.” He marched over to the nearby group of players and spoke in low, furious tones to them, starting in on their coach, obviously the maligned Seymour, when he bumbled over, trying to cover up the fact that he’d been too busy playing Candy Crush on his phone to monitor his players.

Lev continued walking, almost scurrying, picking up speed to avoid any other flying missiles and sat gratefully on her usual spot at the bleachers. Her eyes drifted to find Bucky,he was still speaking to the other coach and it was starting to look heated, but then Bucky took a visible deep breath and stepped back, obviously pulling himself away before things got out of hand. His eyes searched for her and he exhaled noticeably once he found her, moving unerringly to her side, concern evident on his handsome face.

“You okay?” He murmured, reaching up to brush where the ball had connected. His touch left goosebumps in its wake and Lev hissed at the contact, at the tingle of energy that frizzled between his fingertips and her skin. He seemed to feel it too, eyes widening slightly and pulled his hand away, not fully dropping it, gaze searching hers. “Lev?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have been paying attention-” Levi ducked her head.

“Not your fault.” He retorted curtly. “Wayne Seymour needs to be watching his players better.” He visibly exhaled out his mounting irritation and leaned down to meet her eyes again. His brows drew together in question and he looked so startingly puppy-dog at that moment that Lev forgot how to breathe.

“James, I’m fine.”

His brows jumped slightly, nobody called him by his given name, he always corrected them and told them to call him Bucky, but hearing Lev say it made something inside him sit up and pay attention. Reluctantly, he drew away; he had to start coaching but right now he wanted nothing more than to stay beside her.

His hand, drifting without official orders, rested lightly on her knee for a beat before he pulled it away, startled by his actions. It wouldn’t do for the coach to be seen touching one of the player’s moms, but his hand suddenly ached as it was drawn away, tingling to touch her again.

“Pizza tonight?” He asked, stumbling over his words.

Lev studied him for a beat, her cheeks going adorably red. “We’ll see you there.” She replied softly.

***************************************************************

“Coach, can you come to my party?!” King asked excitedly, bouncing in his chair like it was a small trampoline.

Bucky took the empty chair at the table, mouthing a ‘Hey’ to Lev before focusing on King. “What’s that, Little Man?” He’d heard King babbling something about this during drills earlier, but he’d still been so caught up in Levi being hit that he hadn’t paid much attention.

“My birthday!”

Lev hushed King with a low shushing sound. “His sixth birthday, I’m planning a small get-together this weekend; King’s teammates, some school friends and their parents. You’re certainly invited, can you make it?”

“Of course.” He grinned down at King. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Yay!!”

“Kingston Sebastian Riel!” Levi hissed. “Tone it down.”

“Sebastian?”

“His father and I couldn’t agree. Brock wanted Kingston, I wanted Sebastian. We ‘compromised’.” She made air quotes with her fingers.

“I love that name.” Bucky smiled. That had been his name, whenever he’d indulged in picturing having children with Maria, naming his son ‘Sebastian Barnes’.

“I don’t need to use it very often; King usually knows how to behave in restaurants.” Lev replied, eyeing her son.

“Sorry, mom. Sorry, Coach.”

Lev’s serious demeanor broke and she ruffled his hair. “Inside voice, remember. I know you’re excited but we’re not the only people here, right?”

“Yes, mom.”

Bucky gazed at Lev while pretending to peruse the menu. She wasn’t like some of the other mothers out there, that let their kids get away with murder, ignored the little darlings as they ran around screaming and disturbing people, getting in screaming matches with bystanders that told her to rein in her offspring. She loved her son, that was obvious, and she loved him enough to actually parent him. That distinction mattered to Bucky, something that he probably would have argued with Maria about, had she ever agreed to having children. She had been raised to believe herself always correct, her parents always backing her, no matter if she was right or wrong in any situation, and it had chafed Bucky at times; something he found he could reflect back on now, with time, although with no less diminished guilt at remembering your dead spouse as anything but an absolute water-walking saint.

“Mom, I have to go to the bathroom.” King announced. When Lev moved to stand, he continued. “I can go myself.”

Lev looked torn, then nodded slowly. “Wash your hands.”

King nodded once then disappeared.

“What can I bring?” Bucky asked.

“Sorry, what?” Lev pulled her attention away from the direction King had gone, focusing back on Bucky.

“What can I bring to King’s party?”

“Oh,” Lev cleared her throat, thinking for a moment. “Beer? If you want to drink any, I don’t have a lot hanging around and… I’m not sure how many are coming, but maybe a chair too. The backyard is pretty big and there should be room, but you never know.”

“Any food?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got it.” Lev’s lips curled in a small smile and Bucky wasn’t surprised to feel his heart skip suddenly in his chest. This had been happening more and more around her and he was losing the strength to fight it.

“What does the Little Man want?”

“You don’t need-”

“I want to.”

Lev chewed her bottom lip before answering. “He talks a lot about some ‘Ronaldo’ guy?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard him during practices. Cristiano Ronaldo, he’s a famous Portuguese soccer player. Think he’d like a jersey?”

“He’d probably never take it off. But James, seriously-”

Bucky leaned forwards suddenly, resting his hand onto of Levi’s and startling her silent. “Please. I’d like to.” A little awkwardly, he pulled his hand back, straightening slowly in his chair, cheeks heating.

“Do you have any children, James?” She asked, abruptly but not unkindly.

“No.”

“Did you ever want any?”

Bucky traced the edge of his glass, staring hard at the liquid inside. This seemed both an insanely private question to ask, but also one he didn’t mind answering, at least for her. “Yes. Maria-”

“I’m back!” King announced, as if he’d trekked to Papua New Guinea and was just now arriving home, footsore and weary from outrunning cannibals.

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Yes, mom.”

A part of Bucky was insanely grateful when the pizza arrived moments later, and he was saved from further discussion of children he’d wanted but never had the chance to have.

*****************************************************************

Lev opened the door, a slight look of panic on her face and smiled widely when she saw who it was.

“Bucky, hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

He’d thought about it; for some reason, after their last pizza ‘date’, he’d spiraled down into a dark shame, one he’d not felt since those early months immediately after Maria’s death. It must have been because of Lev’s question, harmless as it was for someone you could consider a friend, someone you shared dinner with on the semi-regular now, to ask; but it had triggered something inside him, a buried guilt, a hidden tangle of emotions he’d been too afraid to grab and study up close, but King meant too much to him to bail and, if he was being honest with himself, Levi did too.

“Sorry I’m late-”

“No, it’s fine! I’m just a little-… I haven’t had a get-together like this since before…” She broke off, cheeks going pink and Bucky knew immediately what she meant, how she felt.

“Here, let me take that-” Bucky reached for the bags of chips grasped tightly in her fingers but she pulled away.

“No, thank you, it’s fine. You’ve got your hands full too.” She said, jerking her chin at the six-pack of beer and folded lawn-chair taking up most of his hands. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, gifting Bucky with a genuine smile. “Thank you for coming, I’m glad you’re here; and King’s going to go crazy.”

Their eyes met and held for a heartbeat and something warm flashed in Lev’s gaze, something that matched the tentative eagerness burning low in Bucky’s chest.

“C’mon in.” Levi shook herself slightly, as if breaking out of a trance and smiled a bit nervously. “I’ll be right out, just head on through the kitchen and out the back door. Everyone’s out there, you’ll see Steve and Nat right away.”

“Okay, thanks.” Bucky tried not to look as Levi sashayed in front of him, unaware of how the natural sway of her hips made adult thoughts flood his mind. Maria had not had curves like this, she’d been almost fanatical about calorie counting and restriction, resulting in a toned but unwelcomely bony body under Bucky’s caresses, but Lev was curvy, deliciously so, in all the right places. He didn’t mean to compare, but Maria had lamented to him many times about all the squats and lunges she did and how she still never achieved an ass even close to what Lev seemed to have naturally. His hands ached to touch her soft skin, trace her delicate lines and supple curves, lose himself in her feminine body.

A chorus of greetings hit him as he stepped outside and Steve launched himself at him, tearing Bucky from his musing as he prepared to collide against a brick wall, reaching Bucky in about two bounds; half-dragging him towards where he and Nat were seated, managing to yank the beer from his hands, open Bucky’s chair, push him to sit in it and slap him on the shoulder all at the same time.

A lot of the parents and kids Bucky realized he knew, mostly from soccer, and Nat and Steve introduced him to the rest. Most of the kids were screaming like banshees in a large bouncy castle set up in the corner of the yard, while others ran around holding all sorts of toy, shrieking at each other at the top of their little lungs.

Two tousled heads of hair, one chocolate brown, the other blond suddenly appeared at Bucky’s side, waving foam swords and screeching his name. It took Bucky a moment to recognize Steve’s boy, Hunter, and King, and then King was scrambling into his lap like a puppy, narrowly missing his balls.

“Coach! COACH!” He bellowed, as if Bucky were miles away across a shadowy moor and they were reduced to using only their voices for communication.

“Hey, Little Man.” Bucky leaned back from the dangerously waving weapon, thighs tensed to protect his jewels. He caught Steve’s smirk at his situation but then Hunter decided to do the same, leaping into Steve’s lap with the same reckless enthusiasm as King and Steve was suddenly too preoccupied trying to protect his own nads from destruction.

“You came to my party!”

“Yeah, buddy. I did.”

Grubby hands unexpectedly wrapped around his neck and Bucky suddenly didn’t care about anything else. Wrapping his arms around King, he basked in the little boy’s enthusiasm, the fondness for this child he’d held in his chest sharpening into something far more profound and intense.

When King finally scrambled back down and bounded away to rejoin his gang of rabble-rousers; Steve, who’d managed to detach his own son and send him on his criminal way as well, slapped his shoulder and grinned widely at him, making Bucky’s cheeks go pink.

Other parents eyed him with small smiles as well, making Bucky clear his throat self-consciously, and then Lev was back, falling into the empty chair beside Bucky with a laugh and a groan and his attention was immediately diverted, pulse beating just a little bit harder as he caught a hint of her scent; reminding him of sunshine and meadows of beautiful wildflowers.

Lev seemed more relaxed and a small, fleeting part of Bucky hoped it was because of him, but he pushed the thought away quickly. He couldn’t feed this wolf anymore; he couldn’t keep up with this idea that there was something between him and Lev. They were joined by tragedy, united by death and that was as far as it should go.

But if that was the way it was supposed to be, why was he so drawn to her? To her son? Why had he found his thoughts turning more and more to them, rushing into his mind first thing in the morning, the last scene to play in front of his eyes before he closed them at night?

Why, if this wasn’t ever supposed to be his, did he want it so badly?

Despite his turmoiled mind, there was enough going on in the backyard for him to push it aside, at least pretend it wasn’t gnawing insidiously at his brain and Bucky was surprised when he started to enjoy himself. He had avoided large crowds, big gatherings, since Maria’s death and had never truly been a social butterfly of his wife’s caliber anyway but, before he realized it, a few hours had passed and even the kids were starting to wind down.

King had looked adorable, pink-cheeked and grinning, as he sat in front of his cake, blowing out the candles with not too much spit thankfully, when his guests had finished singing. Some friend of Nat and Lev’s had made it, and had tasted surprisingly good, although the almost neon icing had taken more than a few hard sucks to completely pull the stain from your fingers.

Each present had been worth a cacophony of yells from both the birthday boy and his guests, but it had been the last one, Bucky’s gift that seemed to have the showstopper. When King had opened the gift bag and pulled out the pint-sized Ronaldo jersey, his eyes had gone huge and, when Lev had leaned over, murmuring to him who it was from, the little boy’s eyes had searched the crowd for Bucky and he’d scrambled from his chair to launch himself at him, crashing into his arms with a howl of pure excited glee.

“Thank you!” As fast as he’d landed in Bucky’s lap, King had again scrambled away, tearing off his shirt to yank on the jersey before snatching the new soccer ball from Uncle Steve and Aunty Nat and scampering away, leading a whole posse of screaming kids behind him

“Good job, man.” Steve murmured, leaning over to Bucky’s ear.

 King had then bounded up to him, begging him and Uncle Steve to come play soccer with him and Hunter, and that had taken up Bucky’s attention until Lev called a game over and Bucky had finally looked around, realizing that almost everyone was gone.

 “Mom. MOM?!” Hunter bellowed, running up to Nat. “Can King stay over? PLEASE?” He grabbed onto Nat’s shirt and tilted his head up, sending her an angelic look that left no doubt as to who his father was. Steve had used that same pleading puppy-dog look on Bucky last weekend when he’d begged him to help move an obnoxiously heavy fridge from his garage to the dump.

Nat glanced up at Lev, brow raised, and Lev smiled, shrugging. “If you think you can handle both little monsters tonight, go ahead.”

“Get your stuff, buddy.” Nat grinned.

“YAY!!” Both boys screamed, dashing into the house, barely avoiding a crash as they both tried to fit through the doorway into the house at the same time.

Bucky hovered, knowing he should be leaving but not able to muster the energy. He wanted to stay, even a bit longer and so far no one had zeroed in on him and demanded to know what he was still doing here. He watched with a fond smile as the boys reappeared, carrying an assortment of varied weapons and miscellany and shooting at each other with small Nerf guns.

“Did you pack any clothes?” Lev asked dryly, snagging King by the back of his shirt as he scampered by. He was still wearing the Ronaldo jersey.

“Clothes?” King asked, confused, peering up at his mother as if she’d suddenly started speaking a new language and Lev smirked. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Have fun today?” Nat asked Bucky innocently, stepping over to lean her back against Steve’s chest, who immediately wrapped his arms around her and dropped his chin to rest on the top of her head as he too awaited Bucky’s answer, a cat that got the canary grin on his big stupid face.

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Insane?” Steve suggested.

“Loud.” Bucky finished. “I should know better, coaching half of them but still…”

“You’ll get used to it.” Nat replied, a knowing gleam in her eyes that made Bucky frown in confusion at her. Steve mumbled something in her ear, brow furrowed, and she just giggled, pressing a kiss to his chin and whispering back.

Lev reappeared, carrying a small backpack shaped like a Stegosaurus and called King to her. He skipped up, becoming serious when Lev dropped to one knee and gripped his upper arms gently, whispering earnestly and probably telling him to behave tonight. After a moment, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and the boy made a show of squirming away and wiping at his face, but the delighted grin on his face showed his true feelings.

A few minutes later, both yelling boys had been herded into the SUV and Bucky found himself standing alone beside Lev, waving as Steve and Nat backed out of the driveway and drove off with a honk.

“I should go.” Bucky mumbled, wanting to do anything but. He’d been spared any comments by Steve and Nat as they’d bundled the boys into the vehicle, but that didn’t mean he’d be safe later from any ‘observations’ they’d make of how he’d stayed later than them.

“NO,” Lev’s cheeks went pink “I mean…. stay for a bit, please. Today was so crazy we didn’t get any real chance to talk-” She trailed off uncertainly, her cheeks full on red now, matching the heat in Bucky’s face.

Twist my rubber arm, doll.

“Sure, okay.” He exhaled a little shakily, timidly, lips curving into a smile at Lev’s delighted grin.

“Go grab a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky nodded, venturing into the backyard and sitting on the high-backed bench closest to the freestanding patio heater. The warm glow was comforting against the beginnings of twilight chill, while a firepit squatted nearby, ready to be lit as well.

Levi returned a few minutes later, carrying two bottles of beer and a blanket under one arm; then, after the briefest pause to peruse seating, plunked down on the same bench with Bucky and handed him a bottle.

“Here, try this.” She grinned. “An old friend of mine got me started on these oatmeal stouts; I didn’t have enough to go around.” She pulled the blanket between them. “Cold?”

Bucky gestured with his chin to the heater. “Nah, I’m good.”

Lev smiled, turning to face him and pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. She squirmed for a moment to adjust the cushion at her back then opened the blanket to lay over her lap and settled back with a sigh.

“Thank you for staying.” She said quietly. “It’s nice to just sit down for a few minutes.”

“No problem.” Bucky mumbled, hiding his please grin behind another swallow. “This is good.” He nodded to the sweating bottle in his hand.

“I know, right?” Lev smiled, then fell silent, regarding him quietly long enough that Bucky felt the urge to start squirming in discomfort. “How are you doing?” She asked gently and Bucky knew immediately what she was referring to.

“Getting better.” He replied, his voice low. “Having work and the team to coach definitely helps. You?”

Lev nodded, then swallowed, looking suddenly uncomfortable herself. She glanced up at Bucky from under long lashes, looking surprisingly anxious. “I uh…” she cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t let you think the wrong thing about me and Brock, we…” she broke off, picking anxiously at a cuticle.

Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion as he waited quietly.

“We weren’t like you and Maria, we weren’t… forever.” she finally continued, looking ashamed. “I was… I had divorce papers drawn up, I was ready to give them to Brock, but then he…”

Bucky stared for a moment, stunned. A thousand thoughts suddenly racing through his head. A small, secret little part of him rejoiced; Levi had been ready to leave her husband, akin to available, before his death. She’d already been looking to move on.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, knowing his words were totally inadequate and also, not truthful.

“No, it’s fine. We weren’t working out. I… I was young and stupid and thought the college boy I fell in love with would change, grow up with me. He wasn’t a bad guy, we just…. I was hopeful and naïve, and I forgave a lot.”

Anger burned low in Bucky’s chest; what had Levi been forced to ‘forgive’?

“It’s not stupid,” he began and, at Lev’s confused brow lift, continued. “Hoping someone will grow up, most people do.”

“I’m happy he’s gone.” She whispered in a rush then clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified. “I don’t mean it like that,” her eyes were huge. “I just…. It’s extreme yes, but… I don’t have to deal with him anymore, try and work with him over custody of King or anything.”

Bucky nodded, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “I understand, it’s alright.”

Lev wiped at her cheeks. “I mean, he would have fought me on everything, just to be a dick.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, but thankfully Bucky’s words seemed to have mollified her guilt. He never would believe she’d truly meant she was happy Brock was dead, she wasn’t that type of person, even if a small, secret part of Bucky was.

“How’s King doing, if I can ask that?”

Lev nodded. “No, it’s fine, you can ask. He’s… surprisingly good, actually. Brock was never really in his face anyway, never really a hands-on dad, so there wasn’t much to miss.”

“He didn’t help out?”

Levi shook her head, her tears finally stopping. “No. Not when King was a baby waking up all night hungry, or teething, never. He… I don’t know, he looked at King like an accessory or something. An object to compare to his friend’s kids. He didn’t like that King couldn’t walk as fast as his friend’s boy, or that he wasn’t using full sentences as soon as his boss’ daughter. Never mind that they weren’t the same age, King was never good enough for him, he was always pushing him to do more and… sooner rather than later it would have started to mess with his head, make him think there was something wrong with him when there’s not.”

Rage burned low in Bucky’s chest, a whole new facet of hatred for Rumslow. What kind of man treated his wife and kid that way? King was an incredible little boy, smart and articulate, kind and funny. Bucky knew he’d be proud to call King his own.

“I feel so guilty.” Levi whispered, the tears returning. She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t regret having King at all, and I will always be grateful to Brock for giving me him, but…. What was I thinking? Bringing a child into that type of environment?” She shuddered. “Right up until King was born I hoped my pregnancy would trigger something in him, some switch would flip and he’d stop being such a frat boy, start paying attention to me and my wants, and the baby he’d helped make. But he didn’t, he wouldn’t.” Her voice broke and Bucky stopped thinking about what was right and proper in this situation.

Setting down his beer he scooted towards her, drawing Levi into his arms. She clung to him with surprising desperation, burying her face in his throat and, if the timing weren’t so gloomy, he probably would have groaned at the sensation, at the shiver of delight that shot up his spine.

“Hey,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair and closing his eyes, indulging in a heartbeat’s length of adoring the feel of her so close to him. “Hey, stop thinking that. You’re not a bad person, you’re not a bad mom; all that shit, that’s on him; it’s not your fault. He sounds like a total asshole, who wouldn’t love King? He’s such a special little man. Shit, I would’ve-” he broke off, suddenly dangerously close to unsteady ground, that minefield he’d worried about stepping through.

Lev went still in his arms and he could feel her desire to ask him to elaborate, to explain what he’d been about to say.

Shit, I would’ve treated you and King like the treasures you are, I never would have taken you for granted that way.

Levi raised her head; eyes glittering with tears and searched his face. Bucky gazed back down at her, dangerously close to letting everything he was fighting so hard not to feel flood his eyes. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a heartbeat, then back up to his eyes and time stood still.

Fighting himself every inch of the way, Bucky slowly lowered his head, searching Lev’s gaze for permission, some hint that she either wanted this or suddenly was coming to her senses and wanted to stop; but she never wavered and, as their lips touched in a sweet and tentative way, her lids fluttered shut in relief and Bucky let his own fall closed, warmth flooding his body.

Desire raged hot and hard in Bucky, demanding more but he kept the kiss light and gentle, a shy exploration of each other’s mouths, the taste of stout still on their tongues as he slicked his along her bottom lip then plunged gently inside as she parted her mouth for him, a sweet moan rising in her throat.

Pulling back, easily one of the most difficult things Bucky had ever done, he rested his forehead to hers, fighting to calm his breathing, to control his body from all but attacking her.

Lev panted with him, fingers curling against his shirt then one tentative hand reached up to cup his face, rasping against the stubble and he leaned into her touch, letting out a low groan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, each word burning like acid. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay.” She breathed back.

“I… we need to-” He couldn’t force the words and so he acted instead, pushing gently away from Levi and returning to his end of the bench. He shivered at the loss of her body, her heat, against him and Lev watched him for a moment, multiple emotions warring in her eyes.

Part of Bucky hoped she stayed over there, while a bigger part wanted her to close the distance again.

Finally, she relaxed her shoulders and managed a shy smile, then unfolded the blanket to its full size and offered him one side. Bucky accepted, draping the cover over his shoulders, allowing himself this substitution. They shouldn’t be crawling all over each other, kissing, but they could share this blanket, that was bashfully intimate as well and far more the speed they should be going if they did plan on seeing where this went.

Levi settled back against the bench, turning to face forwards. There was space between them now, so much that it would difficult to lean over and nudge the other with their shoulder, but close enough that, if one dared, they could hold hands under the blanket.

For a time they were silent, gazing at the emerging stars, or the muted red glow of the patio heater, listening to the sporadic sounds of life around them, the occasional vehicle, owl hoot or dog bark but then Lev exhaled slowly and spoke, her voice hesitant.

“We were interrupted at dinner, but I asked if you ever wanted children. I don’t want to pry, but-”

“No, its fine.” Lev had bared enough of her wounds tonight, it was time for him to disclose a scar or two. “I did… I do. But Maria wasn’t interested… ever. It wasn’t a big deal when we got together but… as time passed, seeing friends have babies and stuff, I started to think about it more and more. I…” He trailed off, studying his hands knotted together, fingers twisting. “I kept putting it off, really talking about it with her though. It was obvious what she felt, she’d never babysat as a teenager, she never offered to hold any of our friend’s babies, even if I was always asking, just to feel that little bundle, that tiny weight in my arms; I’d test the waters, and hint and stuff, but she would always laugh and be like ‘no way’ and I just… let it go until there was no more time.”

“She never would have?”

Bucky considered a moment. “No, I don’t think so. One of the things I always loved about Maria was her conviction, even if it was against me. No meant no to her, every time.”

Levi gazed at Bucky silently, but he kept his gaze down. He wasn’t ready to show her, she wasn’t ready to see, the emotions crashing through his eyes right now. Finally, he found the strength to say what had been nibbling at the corners of his mind for some time now, a hard truth that had come with hindsight and miserable evaluation during long, sleepless nights, something he’d never even voiced out loud before, not ever really examined up close, just knew deep down, no matter how hard it was to acknowledge verbally.

���I think…. It would have been the issue that pushed us apart eventually… if she hadn’t died.”

He heard her breath catch but was too scared to look over and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that Lev didn’t show kindness right now, some form of acceptance for his stark confession, maybe reach over to touch him, or whisper sweet words, because he was too raw, too open right now for it to do anything but agonize.

“I’m sorry.” She finally murmured, barely audible but he heard her in the silence, felt the pain all the same.

 Me too.

[supergirlimaginesfic-blog]

Dating Lena Luthor (Everyday can be our Valentine’s)

Request: Prompt Lena x reader, the reader forgot it's Valentine's Day and Lena is mad because it's her first time celebrating valentines. So reader does a surprise romantic date night

a/n: Ahhhh this was so cute to do LOL. I was thinking about this all during work wondering wth I was gonna do with this!! Firstly, I don’t really think Lena would be angry, per se, so I switched this up just a tiny bit! There’s a funny little easter egg I put in here because I’m absolute katie trash, tell me if you find the Funny Joke. Thanks for reading btw y’all! You give me something to do lol. Requests are always open, and I’ll get to them hopefully every other day!

- - - - -

So maybe you were a little bit of an asshole. Actually, you are definitely the tiniest bit an asshole. You’re a good enough person, and you show basic human decency because you surely weren’t raised to be a farm animal with no manners. You’d even go so far as to say you care about people if they’re really hurting enough for you to feel compelled to get into that uncomfortable place of relating to them and having to comfort them.

You’re a bit rough around the edges, you’d admit it. You’ve had a grand total of 3 and a half arguably serious relationships in your very eventful, very promising life so far and it’s not like you were emotionally stunted for the entirety of them all, not really. Sometimes you’d admit you are a pretty emotionally constipated person - you lose track of your days as often as you lose track of your housekeys, and if someone asked you to retell something from last week, well, you’d let them know that frankly you don’t even remember what the last thing you ate was. But you knew how to make your girl smile and that’s what counted. You’re kinda good when it comes to the bigger stuff. That’s all that should matter, right?

When you walked into CatCo for work in the morning, you greeted everyone who’d spare a glance at you, even spent some time making small talk with some of your deskmates. There was a restlessness in the air that made you think people were even itching to talk to you. Everyone had seemed peppier today more than usual. That was surely a weird thing to note, even for a place like CatCo (especially for a place like CatCo). There was an abundance of flowers sitting on desks and because Miss Grant has a very vocal opinion-decreed-official-but-not-really-official-policy regarding cheap-smelling things in her offices, even when arguably flowers are the most natural scent in the world (how possibly can they be cheap?), all the bouquets and arrangements were relegated to a place by their desk inhabitant’s feet where they could be admired in relative peace.

For what it was worth, the place seemed more alive than it ever has been - not that Miss Grant was the worst person to work for, quite the contrary, everyone was just too intimidated or outright terrified of her that any semblance of fun was  overpowered by the fear of messing something up. Miss Grant was nice, in her own quiet, borderline abrasive but never power hungry way. You could tolerate just one day of people being in a good mood.

You felt a slight gust of wind blow your way as you sat at your desk, and you really ought to think you should warn Kara about slowing down her speed just a notch more.

“Hi! (Y/N)! Golly it’s a great morning isn’t it. Oh, why aren’t you wearing red?”

“Kara, does it look like I own any coloured clothing other than black? Anyway, why would I?”

Kara’s eyes widen comically and she inhales sharply, and you almost dismiss it as another purely Kara Thing. You take note of her white pants and pink blazer, unbuttoned to reveal a simple white button up, and you grudgingly concede that this nerd always looks so stupidly cute.

Before you could get yourself irrationally angry at the multitude of Kara’s Preppy Looks, you wonder if Miss Grant has a special occasion that you didn’t get the memo for.

“Wait, is something happening today? Did Miss Grant finally acquire that small-town newspaper outside of Metropolis?”

Kara tilts her head at you, fully reminiscent of a confused child, and her eyebrow quirks ridiculously high up that it could disappear into her hairline.

“Hm, that’s not right. I would have heard about that one. I know she was saying how everyone should dress in red to symbolize the blood spilled of her competitors, but even that’s a bit much.” You say more to yourself than to Kara.

Kara opens and closes her mouth, and opens and closes it again seemingly at a loss to say something as she squints very severely at you. Your eyes widen marginally, taken aback by Kara’s silent assessment.

“Are you alright? Did I offend you or something?”

Kara’s jaw drops as she gasps indignantly. You were only half-kidding but you think you might as well have offended her unwittingly at some point in your very brief conversation.

“Seriously, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I really hope you’re joking.” Those words were startlingly ominous, and especially so coming from someone like Kara.

“What the hell do you even mean? Kara-”

Before you can ask any more of her, Cat Grant’s voice reverberates through the office. It’s impressive, considering she’s a good thirty feet away from you and inside an enclosed elevator when she speaks up.

“Keira, please tell me you found out who plastered that cheap Wal-Mart stock paper heart onto my window and that you have collected their resignation letter. Do not think that because I’m not here I don’t have eyes everywhere. I can practically smell the cheap scotch tape sticking eternally to my windows.”

“No DIY decor, already on it, Miss Grant. But don’t you think that’s a bit-”

Kara follows after Miss Grant, falling into step behind her rather impressively as Miss Grant hands off her coat to Kara and Kara hands her latte to her, balancing  various papers, clothing, and a bag in her arms.

Why is everyone so weird.

You boot up your computer and check the messages on your phone while you wait. An unread message from Lena fills your screen.

Lena: “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

You smile at your girlfriend’s simple text. You know it’s tired and not very fair to keep having presumptions of your girlfriend based solely on her career, but you can’t help it. She’s a softie and an absolute sucker for romance and you never would have suspected it - certainly not the first few times she’d spent the night at your place and she’d untangle her hair from her high bun, shucking off her heels and stripping off her CEO persona. It always mesmerized you, it still does, which is why you’re smiling at your phone like an absolute nerd at her easy vulnerability when it comes to you.

you: “I can’t wait to see your beautiful face, pretty lady ;) Don’t make my day any more difficult than it needs to be...”

You remember all too well the very incriminating texts that have recently bombarded your phone with startling frequency. Lena being her own boss certainly had its perks, and spending an awful amount of time sending suggestive messages and downright not-safe-for-work pictures certainly was a perk in itself.

You’d wondered how often anyone would see you looking around suspiciously with the biggest shit-eating grin on your face. It begged the curiosity of who knew you were practically sexting sometimes? You figured you were probably a bit obvious, Kara has spent her fair share of your shift grimacing and blushing furiously whenever you meet her eye. It’s strange because it’s not like part of her powers involves mind-reading, did it really not take a genius to figure you out? Maybe with her super hearing and- oh. That might explain a little bit. In fact, that might explain a lot. Gross. You are not going to broach that conversation with her.

Lena: “Hmmm, that’s no fun...”

You smirk down at your phone. It is far too early for this teasing bullshit, but Lena Luthor lives on her own time and the universal conventions of decency wait for no one, apparently.

Lena: “What if I’m in the mood to be bad?”

you: “I guess I’d have to teach you a lesson about what happens when you tease me all day”

Lena: “It’s settled, let’s call it a date.″

you: “you’d call anything we do a date, love LOL”

Lena: “Well then let’s make it extra special tonight ;)”

you: “looking forward to it, you big nerd”

You finally amend to put to your phone, seeing as though you spent a good few minutes flirting with your girlfriend instead of working. You figure even someone with as much money as Cat Grant wouldn’t appreciate you fooling around on company time.

“Ooooh, texting a fancy someone?” Winn’s voice comes from behind you as he swirls around to face you in his swivel chair.

“Yeah, weirdo.” You roll your eyes amused as Winn feigns hurt, but he continues nonetheless.

“Cool, you guys got any romantic plans tonight? Lena must be wicked excited.” He quirks his eyebrows suggestively, and you reach over to hit him on the arm hard enough to make him yelp.

“Gross. Even if we were I wouldn’t tell you anything.”

“Aww aren’t we superfriends? Don’t we go to share super secrets?”

“Definitely not of the bedroom variety.”

“Ah fine, I don’t think I want to know anyway. J’onn and Kara must try so hard to tune out all the adult stuff you and Lena get into whenever you guys are chilling at the DEO.”

You grimace and tune out whatever else Winn was about to say, “Oh god.”

“Really, you guys have no PG plans tonight? No extravagant displays of luxurious affection or cute date outings?”

“No, Winn. Why are you and Kara so interested in my life today anyway?”

Winn stares blankly at you before chuckling and turning back towards his computer. “Ah, ah okay! Sore topic. Sorry to pry. Just know I’m your pal, alright? You can tell me all the things.”

“Yes, rest assured, you are my pal, Winn.” You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head at your interaction.

You’d become quite busy the next few hours, all the bustle and general strangeness of the day wearing off as the remaining CatCo employees that stuck around waited until they could go home. You finally had a chance to lean back and check your phone’s notifications.

Lena: “When are you coming home? I miss you.”

you: “lol you’re so cute. Soon babe, don’t worry. Just a few things to finish up here. Are you done yet?”

Lena: “Yes, I managed to finish all that I needed today. I let Jess go early too, she’s got a cute date of her own.”

you: “oh man, no way! Is he cute? Is he worthy?? Is he an asshole? Do we need to threaten him?”

Lena: “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re more excited about Jess’ plans than ours. I’ve no clue, I merely assumed. Though she was acting particularly off today come to think of it.”

you: “you too eh? People were so weird today. More than they usually are. It must be a full moon.”

Lena: “I’ve no doubt that must be it. Tell me when you’re about to leave, darling. I’d very much like to get out of these restrictive clothes.”

you: “what? You won’t let me help you out??”

Lena: “If you take too long, you’ll regret far more than just that.”

Lena: “I will see you soon <3″

If you rushed to pack up a little quicker than you usually would and took off at a speed that could rival Kara’s, you’d never admit it to anyone. In your haste, you still managed to text Lena once you got into the packed streetcar and were notified that she was just on her way to yours from her apartment.

You had the chance to clean up your apartment a bit and get into your comfiest trackpants and your favourite hoodie when you heard knocking on your door. You opened the door and smiled as you opened your arms to your girlfriend. Lena immediately walked into your embrace and wrapped her arms around your middle, sighing happily as she did.

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you, I just got back from work.”

“And did work have half an army’s worth of perfume sprayed throughout the entire office to attract potential mates today?” She smirks as she makes her way around you to put her things away and make herself at home.

“I thought you said I smelled nice.”

“You do, I’m going to be stealing that sweater from you by the end of tonight.”

You chuckle at her nonchalance, “Naturally.”

She leans back on the back of your couch and crosses her arms easily. “Any hot plans for tonight?”

“You, me, and a box of pizza?”

“Make it two and you got yourself a deal.”

“Any other requests, beautiful?” You make your way slowly to Lena, eventually pinning her between your body and the couch. Your face is just inches away from hers and you can practically feel her next words against your skin.

“I was good today, need I remind you.”

“You were, actually.”

“What do I get for that?” She brings her lips close to yours and you can feel yourself being pulled for a kiss, but she doesn’t let you.

“Anything you want.”

“Oh, that’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, I want to make it all about you tonight.” You try again for a kiss, leaning in just too late as Lena brings herself away again. You grunt in mild frustration and she chuckles at your desperation.

“Are you sure? I see you’re getting a little impatient.”

Finally, she kisses you and you feel relieved. You’ve been waiting all day to be able to kiss your girlfriend. She’s the only sense of normalcy you have, no matter the absurdity that is your life or your individual circumstances. Her hands come up between your bodies as she latches onto the front of your shirt and tugs. Your hands come up to her hips and you push up against her lightly. You hear a soft groan from her lips and kiss it away.

You lose yourself in the kiss for however long you’ve been going at it, and she pulls herself away suddenly, leaving you moderately shocked at the abrupt loss of contact as she makes her way towards your kitchen.

“Let’s get Tony’s, I think I’m in the mood for a greasy cheesy-stuffed crust pizza.” She smirks as she takes in your indignant expression. You decide right then and there that, yes, in accordance to all science, religion, and all poetry that could be: Lena Luthor will be the death of you.

You call in your favourite pizza place and have two large greasy, cheesy-stuffed crust pizzas delivered to your door - one vegetarian for Lena (compromises, apparently), and one specialty butter chicken flavoured pizza that does an excellent job of tasting like it’s supposed to.

You’re the very definition of relaxed as you recline into your couch, Lena leaning into you as you wrap an arm around her. You both decided on one of the conspiracy theory documentaries on Netflix, deciding it was a good piece of relative garbage to consume.

Lena hums happily as she nuzzles into your side, taking a bit more of the blanket wrapped around you two as it uncovers a bit more of your legs.

You hear her mumbling from somewhere near your stomach, muffled by your sweater and the blanket and her general sleepiness. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

“What?”

There’s a long pause as you stare at Lena’s figure, no doubt with the intensity of burning into her skull if you had heat vision.

“I’m sorry, was that too weird? I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“No...”

Lena finally turns her head to look at you questioningly. “What is it, love?”

You squint hard at the TV, the documentary long forgotten as you quickly run a reel of your entire day, pulling the brakes hard to a screeching halt when you put all the pieces together.

“Holy shit.” You mumble more to yourself than Lena.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Please, we can just forget about it-”

“No. No, no, no...”

“Oh my god, (Y/N), are you okay? Please talk to me.”

You sit up quickly, trying as best as you can to ease Lena off your lap as you continue to scratch at the surface of your struggling comprehension. You can’t believe yourself, you really can’t. You’ve certainly outdid yourself this time.

“I can’t believe it.”

Lena becomes increasingly alarmed at how upset you’re becoming and is at a loss for consoling you.

You finally look at her, an amalgamation of sadness, disappointment, and disbelief in your eyes. “Baby why didn’t you say anything?”

“I- I mean, I just did?”

“No, no way. This was supposed to be special.”

She looks at you, total confusion written on her face. “I’m sorry. I just thought- you didn’t bring it up? You hadn’t mentioned it all day and we haven’t really talked much about it, which is fair because that’s not really a thing one talks about in detail. I just thought you weren’t comfortable? I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“No, no baby that’s not it. I just- wow, I kinda suck. Aren’t you a little bit sad that I forgot?”

Lena’s lips quirk into a small smile. “Well, I mean I’ve never really had an official Valentine’s day so to speak. I would have liked to do something nice for you. But I wasn’t sure if you’d already made plans and I didn’t want to encroach on yours, and you didn’t give many hints about today at all so I thought maybe there was something else there. I didn’t want to bring it up if it was going to upset you.”

You click your tongue and lean across the couch to meet Lena halfway. You take her face in your hands and kiss her passionately. “You are too good for me, you know that?”

Lena smiles and kisses you again in between her words. “It’s okay, darling. As long as you remember my birthday.”

You pause in between your kisses, stopping as you stare almost cross-eyed into her eyes. The delayed reaction most certainly wasn’t going to help you. “Yeah, of course.”

She squints her eyes at you, backing away marginally so she can regard your entire face.

“You do remember when my birthday is, right?”

“How can I? You have like, three.”

She gasps in mock offense and begins to move away before you pull her back in, grinning at her reaction. You savour one last kiss before gently pulling yourself away and shaking your head. “Nope, I won’t have this. Get up.”

“What is it now?” She quirks her eyebrow at you quizzically, surely pondering what other nonsense you’ve come up with now.

“Get up baby, this is our date night.”

“I’d figured this night was, regardless of the calendar date?”

“Nope. Get your pretty little ass off that couch and help me, Luthor.”

Lena laughs as you take her in your arms and take her away from the couch. You pull the cushions off immediately and leave them in a heap on the floor as you take long strides toward your bedroom.

She calls after you from the living room.  “Where on earth are you going? What are you even doing?”

You come back with various blankets and push them into her arms. Lena looks down at them questioningly and watches as you stack the cushions against the couch, taking care that they won’t fall.

Eventually, you’re satisfied with your work and you’ve made a tiny fort in front of your TV with the blankets and couch cushions. Lena smiles at you, bewildered and her expression just begging for an explanation.

You notice her look and cock your head to your creation. “Well then? Get in. You said you’ve never made one of these in your life, ever. Right?”

“Yes...” She’s still looking on with perplexity but crouches down to get into your fort. You follow happily behind her.

“Well, I fucked up, so I’m going to try and fix it.”

Your girlfriend looks at you with utter adoration, her eyes slightly wet with unshed tears. “You are truly something else, (Y/N).”

You smile at her and let her kiss you, closing your eyes in content as you bask in the love you have for Lena - the woman who came into your life and challenged everything you thought you knew, and then changed you for the better.

“I am sorry. I feel like absolute shit. I’ve never forgotten before and I...” Your words trail off, and she looks at you, encouraging and understanding. You find the resilience to continue. “I just, I don’t know how it’s escaped me. It’s like, lately it’s this simultaneous experience of my days blurring together and looking forward to each day, you know?”

Lena doesn’t answer, she simply nods and silently prods you to continue.

“It’s no excuse, I don’t want it to be. It’s just that, I’ve been so happy now. I am so happy, and that is all thanks to you. I lose track of my days because I’m not counting down anymore to some unmarked end or whatever, or waiting until the next greatest thing happens to me that makes me feel alive for a few minutes. I don’t need that anymore because it’s you. You are the best thing that’s happened to me, and I don’t need to count down anymore.”

You hear her sniffle and you wrap an arm around her, as best as you can attempt with the lack of space in your fort.

“I just want to make it up to you. Because you deserve everything. And the people I’ve dated in the past have done things on Valentine’s day, and it makes me feel fucking terrible that I can’t even be assed to remember it for you. It makes me feel like I’ve let you down, and it sucks, because I want to be worthy of you. If I can’t even remember one stupid day, how am I supposed to be the person you need me to be?”

You inhale sharply, getting all your words out and finally being able to breathe. Lena’s freely crying now, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes and wetting her cheeks.

“No, (Y/N), look at this. You did this.” She points up at the fort surrounding you. “You did make it up to me. You realized it and did something about it. I could never hold this against you. I can’t be mad at you for this. You did nothing wrong, baby. And you are exactly the person I need.”

Lena’s hand comes up to your face and caresses your cheek, her thumb lightly treading circles on your skin.

“You are so good to me. You are good for me, (Y/N), and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to spend this day with.” She leans in to kiss you and your breathing steadies, allowing yourself this forgiveness.

There’s a pause in your kisses as you and Lena look at each other, the documentary long over as silence fills your apartment. Nothing but the sounds of the street and the humming of your appliances can be heard.

“You wanna know something that I haven’t done?” You ask her after a moment.

“What is that?”

“I’ve never had sex in a pillow fort before. I’m gonna fuck you in this one.”

You smirk as she she gasps scandalously, swatting your face away from her as you effectively ruin the moment. You laugh as you dodge her half-hearted attempts to keep you away, poking at her sides as she twitches and squeals at the onslaught.

“Hey, but honestly. What else haven’t you done before? You wanna do some watercolour painting tonight? I think I have a full set hiding around somewhere that I got from my best friend for my birthday. Or we could put together a puzzle, or something.” You contemplate the items you have in your apartment, and you’re about to move to look for them.

All Lena does is give you a long look, studying you before she pushes you down onto your back and moves on top of you, kissing you so that you both forget the time or the day by the time you’re both done with each other.

[thirstykpopstans-blog]

Oblivious pt. 2

Oblivious pt 1

where Renjun is clueless regarding his growing feelings for y/n which makes him very uncomfortable and bothered as he can’t figure out what’s happening to him

Genre: fluff

fem!reader

a/n: I’m sorry this was a bit long??? but thank you all for reading :D

It has been two days since Renjun’s outburst and y/n still hasn’t come to visit the dorms.The boys didn’t make a big deal out of it though, they still proceeded to watch movies every night, and they’re romance movies which was weird because every time y/n asks for it they groan. He isn’t complaining though, it reminds him of y/n. 

Renjun makes sure he always has his phone in his hands so he can check if y/n messages him or their group chat. “I’m not losing a friend, am I?” , he thought, oh but it pains him to say friend. He was then again filled with confusion. He decided to lie down on his bed for a while as he stared at the ceiling. The breeze coming from the window and the sounds of the boys playing happily outside calmed him down. “Wouldn’t it be nice if y/n were here with me?”, he froze. He ruffled his hair out of frustration and sighed. “There really is something wrong with me”. He got up and started going for the door before he started having weird thoughts again but it suddenly flew open hitting him in the face.

“I’m sorry!”, Renjun looked over to see that it was Jeno.

“It’s fine. What are you doing, barging in like that?”, Renjun asked, still massaging his forehead.

“Mark told me you need to stop sulking and I told them that we should all go to the cinema and they all told me yes and you can’t refuse this because y/n is coming with us too.”, Jeno winked. Renjun was suddenly filled with joy. Maybe it was because they’re all going outside after a long time but he didn’t know why Jeno specifically had to say y/n’s name and why he had to make a gross wink. 

“Oh and we’ll just meet her at the mall. She went to a girl scout camping two days ago, so she’ll be coming from there.”, Jeno said before he left. It baffled Renjun as to how Jeno knew about the camping while he didn’t. Does Jeno like y/n or does y/n like Jeno or do they like each other? Renjun’s thoughts were going wild and once again he felt sick but still decided to dress up and go along with the group.

“What’s taking y/n so long? She doesn’t show up for two days and now she’s late? She’s really making us miss her more huh”, Chenle whined moving closer to Renjun

“So close yet so far”, Mark added.

“There she is!” Jisung pointed making everyone turn their heads. Renjun suddenly felt his heart beating rapidly as he saw y/n. She wore a yellow  sundress that goes down to her knee. She also had a white headband on her hair that she wore down. She looked like a sunshine to him. Renjun wanted to go and hug her. It became very difficult for him to breathe as he thinks of it.

“Shall we go?”, she smiled at them.

“Actually, can you and Renjun go first and buy us tickets for the movie? Taeyong just texted me to buy some groceries and I need the rest of the boys”, Mark replied.

“Oh of course. We’ll just meet you at the cinema, then.” y/n waved goodbye and linked her arms with Renjun. He started walking stiffly, having y/n practically drag him.

“Renjun, is there something wrong? You’re acting different again. Just like two days ago.”, she had a worried expression on her face. 

Renjun cleared up his throat and answered her, “Look I don’t know, too. I am very bothered about what’s happening to me. Especially when it comes to you.”

“To me? What about me?”, she’s looking even more worried pressuring Renjun to think about what has been really going on with him.

“I don’t know you just annoy me? I don’t know! Whenever you play with Jeno or you text Jeno where you’ve been and not me? Or whenever you speak, it just makes me want to shut everyone up and listen to you? I mean that’s just rude! Or whenever you show up, you just suffocate me and make my heartbeat go crazy? I’m too young to have a heart problem!”, he was out of breath as he let out his frustration. He looked at y/n who was utterly dumbfounded. 

“R-renjun…? I don’t want to assume anything because this will really hurt if not but do you like me…?”, y/n stuttered. Now it was Renjun’s turn to be surprised. Of course. Of course he liked her. He was jealous of Jeno. It now made sense why he separated them when they were hugging. He was at a loss for words.

“Um… dude?”, y/n waved in front of his face.

“I- I guess, I do like you.” Renjun looked at her “Wow, I do like you! I didn’t know that I was this oblivious”, he started to smile from ear to ear. “Wait what do you mean that you don’t want to assume anything because it would hurt if not?”, he added.

“Well I uh, like you too. Actually I think I liked you longer than you liked me so this is a wish that came true, I guess.”, y/n replied shyly while looking down and playing with the hem if her dress. “Jeno teased me about you the time you helped me cook in the kitchen and yeah. He’s been helping me get close to you.”, she continued. Renjun hugged y/n in the spur of the moment and buried his face in her hair.

“I’m guessing that you guys still haven’t bought the tickets”, Jaemin interruped and the rest of the boys laughed.

“Wow finally all those piercing looks from Renjun is over” Jeno laughed leaving Renjun flustered.

-amy

[carjohnson]

Character Analysis

I don’t have a life and I made myself upset cause Ethan’s a piece of shit. A bit of background info:

Ethan is my antagonist in Softly (Little Red Riding Hood retelling), my third book I’ll start working on next year and pulling a few quotes from. He’s controlling, domineering, just your normal white, rich, male lead in romance novels. And everything I hate in the romance genre.

Controlling behavior:

It’s extremely common in romance now that the guy dictates just about everything the heroine does, like this exchange here:

Ethan shifted, signaling one of the waitresses over. She smiled, flipping open the notepad, asking, “The usual or something different?”

“Usual,” Ethan said, squeezing Nicolette’s shoulder.

Nicolette glanced at the waitress, starting, “I’ll try the--”

“For both of us,” Ethan interrupted, plucking the menu out of Nicolette’s hands and handing it to the waitress.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg, like all other romance books, sure it’s a cliche but this isn’t being portrayed as romantic cause I know half of y’all wouldn’t want no dude ordering your food and interrupting you in the same breath.

Accusations of cheating:

Unfortunately, in real life and in fiction, the dude (or whoever you’re with) constantly accuses their partner of cheating, either because the man is or gaslighting their partner. 

 “Don’t,” he interrupted, his hand clamping around the back of her neck. “Where were you going, Red?”

Nicolette swallowed, biting her lip, “A-Artemis wanted to see me, so,” 

Ethan looked at her, his grip like a vice. “The waitress. You’re fucking her? Oh, so when I wanted to invite that girl over, it’s a problem?” he growled, dragging her back to the bedroom.

Some characters are seen as jealous, but jealousy doesn’t do that to a person if they’re secure in their relationship and aren’t abusive.

Possessiveness:

The words, “I own you” show up way more often than you would expect and it’s really gross considering that it’s being said to a person. Especially as an African American young lady with AA characters, I ain’t down for it.

Lack of consent:

This is a pretty major one that people somehow fawn over, and I can’t just bring myself to find that romantic in any way. I even made the connection of Beloved and Paul D in the storage room to two of my own books since all of them have the central problem of lack of consent. It’s more based on control and a sense of ownership than any form of love.

Exhibit A (from Beloved; between Paul D and Beloved):

“Call me my name.”

“No.”

“Please call it. I’ll go if you call it.”

“Beloved.” He said it, but she did not go. ///// What he knew was that when he reached the inside part he was saying, “Red heart. Read heart,” over and over again.

Exhibit B (from Stained, Unbroken):

A cold sweat spread throughout his entire body as he felt her lips come in contact with his neck. An overwhelming sense of helplessness overtook him and he couldn’t help the flashbacks of that night that came to his mind. All he could do was to softly croak out, “S-stop.”

True to her nature, she ignored him.

Exhibit C (from 50 Shades of Grey): 

“No,” I protest, trying to kick him off.

He stops. “If you struggle, I’ll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you.”  

None of this is even remotely okay and unfortunately, I had to quote 50SoG so I’m even more unhappy. Originally, Softly started out as a paranormal, werewolf romance but the more I figured out the characters, I realized I don’t want people to see Ethan’s god-awful behavior seen as some stupid werewolf trait and being undermined with “Oh, he’s controlling and shit cause he’s a werewolf and not because he’s a privileged white dude with rich parents who gave him everything he wanted and has never been told no.” I want my readers to see that he’s human and can’t be changed or fixed just by being loved and that my heroine deserves better.

My whole point of writing this book is to show that abuse of any kind isn’t acceptable or romantic whether it’s in ‘BDSM erotica’ or any other book no matter how popular a book becomes. This is probably long as hell, but I hope I got my point across. 

[thornswithroses]

2016 Books I’ve Read

I had been hoping to read more books last year, but I am relieved to have made it halfway to my reading goals. It is a lot better than it was back in 2015. 

Real Murders (Aurora Teagarden, book #1) by Charlaine Harris

I actually enjoy Harris’ other mysteries more than I do the Sookie Stackhouse series. And I’m glad I only bothered with one of the Stackhouse books, considering that I hear how disappointing the last book ended. It does not help that the True Blood series left a bad taste my mouth after how they end Tara. The Harper Connelly books are actually my favorites, but the Teagarden ones may soon prove to be my second. I like Aurora Teagarden, I like how as ridiculous and delightfully flowery of a name she has, she is a grounded person.

Harris likes to describe the clothing her protagonists wear or want, and while I usually enjoy that aspect of writing, it is rather amusing when Harris does it. Namely, because the clothes she describes sound rather dated and probably would be more suited to someone in their sixties rather than their late twenties. 

The writing is sparse but absorbing, and Harris has a flair for a comfortable Agatha Christie likability in most of her works. This is no exception that.

Would recommend: a cozy but gripping reading to relax at night with.

Ash by Malinda Lo

I found myself so frustrated for sweet Ash. I never really appreciated how much the original Cinderella had to overcome until reading this book. Even her beloved father talked over the healing women of their original village, including Ash’s mother. Isobel is one of my most hated characters this year, for how she abuses Ash. And how much of pain Ash goes through could have been avoided if she had been listened to. 

I am usually leery of love triangles where the queer girl has to choose between a man or a woman. I’m bisexual, and I am very much aware that a queer woman is not less queer for wanting to be with a man. However, we cannot argue that heterosexual relationships are prioritized over homosexual ones. We cannot claim that bisexuality is not often dismissed as a curiosity by writers, most especially by male ones. It is 2017, and this shit still occurs. We cannot argue that female sexuality and relationships with women, be they romantic or platonic, are often dismissed in media. 

That said, I knew Malinda Lo was not going to fail me with how she handled Ash’s bisexuality. I used to follow Malinda Lo’s writings on AfterEllen in my Baby Feminist Years, and I do not regret that. She is a phenomenal writer, whether she writes in fiction or nonfiction. 

Ash’s relationships to Sidhean and Kaisa are different but special in her life. With Kaisa, their relationship has the delectability of apples, a tenderness and subtle warmth that is not written enough for gay relationships. With Sidhean, there is a tension for forbidden lust and the gradual trust they grow for one another. 

The ending is satisfying, but that is all I will give to you. I urge you to read this book, especially as it comes from an author that actually actively works with diversifying young adult literature to the best she can. 

Would recommend: a thoughtful, lyrical novel about a girl that overcomes obstacles to find love and her own independence. 

Mary Reilly by Valerie Marin

This is the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde as seen through the eyes of Mary Reilly, a loyal, hardworking house-maid for the doctor. The book is written as if it were from Mary’s own journaling. 

I like the protagonist. Usually, when the perspectives of fringe characters are written about how they view a famed character, they simplify too many matters.

With Mary, yes, she is enamored but misguided by Dr. Jekyll’s supposed virtues, but as the novella goes on, as palpable as the sexual tension gets between them, she is not shy about pointing out the classism he and the world have on her, at least to herself. 

The book also has her deal with the abuses she undergone as a child from her father’s hands. I will not give spoilers away, but it is rather satisfying how she comes to terms with her abuse after attending a funeral (and, no, it’s not her abuser’s funeral.)

I like the different relationships she has with her fellow servants and how we see the grit of her daily duties. As I said before, the sexual tension between Mary and Dr. Jekyll is deliciously intense. It also helps that they are both shown to genuinely care about each other, adding a certain sweetness to the star-crossed quality of their relationship. 

And when the book wants to be chilling, it does indeed do that.

Would recommend: for all your fun, gothy indulgences!

The Name of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

An underrated epic fantasy that seems to understand that the quiet moments of a person’s life is just as important as the high-paced ones. The narration written uniquely, there’s a story-within-a-story with yet another one hidden somewhere under there. 

I enjoy reading older, isolated, world-weary Kvothe and how that contrasts with him telling his story of a younger, bright-eyed him that wants to learn and wants to avenge his loved ones. 

The book is a big one, and it is filled to the brim of so many conflicts and adventures. The humor is vibrant as red, the constant worry of poverty always hitting close to home for me, and his friendships and rivalries with everyone makes one feel invigorating. Oh, believe me, there is plenty of darker aspects to this story, and plenty of moments where I had to take a break from reading because it hurt too much at times. But Rothfuss seems to have the instinctual sense of when enough is enough, unlike the likes of George R.R. Martin and Joss Whedon.

Sometimes I got annoyed with how it felt like the author’s own feelings spilled somewhere. I thought the book could get too dismissive of the beliefs of the rural villages, and, believe me, I hate the concept of a sweet, harmless small town, especially when it mostly features white people. I’m no Stars Hollow fangirl, but my issue is rather it does not look at it through a nuanced lens.

All in all, what issues I have are little compared to so many factors that had me enjoy this book.

Would recommend: for people looking for a rich narrative that carves out many emotions from you, especially if you’re looking for an elaborate fantasy.

Decreation by Anne Carson

I am going to be real with you.

There are a lot of elements to this book that have flown over my head. 

Decreation holds so many references and vocabulary that had me searching all sorts of sources to understand. 

I have been interested in reading Anne Carson since seeing so many snippets of her words around.  It's possibly odd to say that being confused by the book and having to do research to know it makes me enjoy "Decreation" very much. I like books that force me to think. I like books that have the sort of lines that ring well together like a series of synchronizing bells. Anne Carson has an enthralling mind, and I look forward to reading more of her work. If you want to read a challenging book with prose and poetry that is clean and shining like knives, this is the book for you

Would recommend: for people looking for something that makes them want to ponder and to be lulled by the beauty of how words are arranged.

The Poison Eaters and Other Stories by Holly Black

When it comes to short story collections, let's face it, there are going to be stories that you adored, stories you're indifferent to, and stories you just really, really, really hate. For most of the stories in this collection, I enjoyed them immensely. I remember when I read Holly Black's first novel, Tithe, I was absorbed by the lush prose. I can only describe it as like a spiderweb, how it shimmered and ensnared. I am crestfallen that she has simplified that style over the years, I wish YA authors can trust their readers, especially the teenage ones, into appreciating descriptive prose. One of the reasons why I moved from YA literature to adult fiction by the time I was sixteen was because I got tired of the simple style of writing. I wanted to challenge myself more, and I wanted to appreciate the art of language. I still do. Holly Black's style is still not how it was in her Tithe days, but the stories are still written in an eye-catching way. Maybe not like a spiderweb, but surely as the sheen of water. My favorites were: "The Coldest Girl in Coldtown" is about vampire towns, need I say more? "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" had an interesting take of becoming a wolf where it is a flower instead of a bloody chomp that turns you. I will admit I have always had a soft spot for beautiful things that cause horror. "The Night Market" was a delightful romance with a Filipino girl with a port stain birthmark on her face that has an elf in a tree enamored with her, much to her surprise and frustration. It was entertaining to see their dynamic of challenging and outwitting one another, especially over the girl's sister's safety. "The Dog King" was with wolves in a castle, literally and metaphorically. "The Coat of Stars" was about a gay man rescuing his lost love, with the bonus of costume porn. "The Land of Heart's Desire" had me the excellent opportunity of reuniting with beloved characters from Black's Modern Faerie Tales series. The last story, "The Poison Eaters," I love the unique narration, the way the girl that was a weapon became a strategist for revenge. The stories I disliked were few and far. "A Reversal of Fortune" had an endearing pit bull dog, but that's all the positivity I can give it. The story's concept sounded good--a girl challenges the Devil to save her pet's life--but written in such a weak and juvenile way that was also, to put it bluntly, gross. "Virgin" also had an interesting concept but I feel this had the potential to have been expanded more, whether novel-length or just a longer short story. "In Vodka Veritas" went too far into the silly route for me, especially for an interesting concept as having a Bacchanal in a high school prom. The narrator was also annoying as fuck. "Paper Cuts Scissors" should have expanded the characters more, it was a shallow little story. "Going Ironside" was hard to follow and it had a good concept but a lukewarm execution.

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

The Goblin Emperor is a political fantasy that is loving and hopeful and does not move through violence necessarily so much as surviving the eyes and gossip of a land that does not always see half-Goblins like Maia in high regards. I like my prickly books; I appreciate the blood and the lust and the anger, and all the other juicy bits of a harrowing plot. Believe me, I do. However, I honestly find the politics here and in the Kushiel's Legacy far more engrossing than in famous works such as Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" series. Maia is proof that having a genuinely sweet personality does not make one a dull protagonist. He is an underdog and coming from an abusive home life will certainly have readers already feeling protective of him. The biggest charm out of Maia however, is how Maia uses his goodness and need for survival to be calculating as Maia moves into the Emperor role. He's calculating how good his ruling should be. That is striking to me. He holds similar characteristics to one of my favorite fantasy characters, Sansa Stark. The characters surrounding him, all differing arrays of morals, are also striking. His bodyguards that are quite the sun-and-moon pair in demeanor and strength, his loyal assistant, his fiance, a passionate warrior girl. All in all, this was a satisfying read and one that I will enjoy rereading again and again. 

Would recommend: if you love character-driven stories set in a lush, intricately-woven setting with one of the most likable protagonists around. 

Carpathia by Cecilia Woloch

Woloch writes of moving, of grief, of love, all with great aplomb. There is a birdlike quality to her words as she talks about her father, his death, love, of moving across so many landscapes. Her poems have the serenity of the color blue. I cannot wait to see read more from her. 

Would recommend: if you want to be lulled by beautiful wording and imagery.

The Divinity Student by Michael Cisco

This book is like reading one long hallucination. The surrealism is everywhere, the horror underlying everything. The imagery is haunting in the best of ways, it feels like smoke clinging to your clothes. There is no logic to this story. You just cannot make sense of it. There is a reason why Cisco is often compared to Franz Kafka.

Would recommend: if you want to pore over surrealism and odd imagery rather than a particular plot. 

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

One of the most satisfying fantasies I have read the past few years. Novik knows how to make twists and she knows how to make those twists flow right. While I could feel old-school sort of fantasy as a backbone to this story, it still stands all on its own. The characters were vivid in their personalities.

Sometimes I had frustrations with Agnieszka, with how much she fussed over dealing with fancy indulgences. There is nothing wrong with her for preferring a rural, simpler life, but it felt tacked-on too often. At least it is not as bad as Hunger Games, where the bad guys in that story enjoyed to opulent, feminine indulgences that had something of a homophobic coding too. 

I do adore how Agnieszka’s clumsiness is not made to be endearing, but a human flaw. I wish to have seen more of her friendship with Kasia and see her relationship with the Dragon get developed more but all in all, it was enjoyable. 

The magic system was also beautifully envisioned and executed. 

Would recommend: character-driven, brilliant world-building, and unique storytelling.

Batgirl, Volume 1: The Darkest Reflection by Gail Simone

I hate the new 52. I hate most of it. I'm probably not going to read most titles from DC for a while. I am still not forgiving them for that hot topic nightmare that is Harley Quinn's makeover. I also have a small confession to make.

As a child, I was not that interested in Batgirl. I liked her enough on the Adam West show. I thought it was fantastic that she was a librarian. I thought Yvonne Craig was lovely. Other than that depiction, I barely gave thought to Barbara Gordon. 

With DC animation, my holy trinity of favorite female characters was Huntress (Bertinelli), Wonder Woman, and Catwoman. In recent years, especially with the passing of Craig, I've come to appreciate her more, value her character, her relationships with others, her strong will, her kindness, her flaws, her mistakes. Gail Simone actually made her a whole person to me when she was Oracle. And while I am still pissed that she is not that anymore, Simone's writing had me cheer for Barbara in getting back out onto the streets. This volume shows the ups and downs of her friendships to people she has known for a long time, the tentative friendship with her roommate that has the potential to expand a lot deeper, and above all, her relationship with both her parents. It always annoyed me when superhero stories got with the Disney Parent Problem, where there was only one parent active in the protagonist's life and how that was most often the father. Here, we see Barbara's mother and how their relationship is broken, and you feel for both of them. You want to be angry with Barbara's mom for leaving the family, but you also empathize her efforts into healing that rift, especially how they're not quite satisfied; no doubt there is a deeper story about why exactly she left. You understand Barbara's hurt but you also know she's not one to deal with emotions, including bitterness, well, and she is not above pettiness and evasiveness. I really look forward to where this goes in the next volumes.

Would recommend: for long-time Batgirl fans and for those interested in getting to know her more.

Ms. Marvel, Volume 1: No Normal by G. Willow Wilson

Kamala Khan has to be one of the sweetest characters I ever had the fortune of reading. She’s awkward, silly, earnest, and good-intentioned.

Some of the dialogue does feel stilted. I am guessing because Wilson is still trying to balance showing real-life issues while telling a story. I know people had issues with how static her family feels at the moment, although from what I’ve seen, they do develop well as the series goes on.

Would recommend: a fun, charismatic read that personally makes me think back to watching favorite Saturday morning cartoons.