#reading and writing is like my entire world other than pop

[kiteblue42]

Is Eric Kripke America’s Tolkien?

So I started Supernatural for the first time around 6 months ago for which I blame Tumblr entirely (where do I claim compensation?). In fact it’s very good and fun and I can’t believe I missed it when it was live.

Ok so bear with me I’ve been sick for a few days a combination of high temperature plus rings of power trailer drop may be making me delusional, but I got to thinking … why did this show have such a hold not just on this site, but also on so many fan artists and fan fic writers. (I mean it has a strangle hold on Ao3)?

Then the RoP trailer dropped and I got to thinking is it because it world builds from a US stand point like Tolkien world built from a European standpoint?

Then because I am sick and can’t sleep I am sharing my stream of consciousness o: Kripke as Tolkien, Sam as Sam, John Winchester as Gandalf, Castiel as Beleg and Dean as Turin Turambar - and maybe now I’ve got this out of my head I’ll feel better….:

I attempted to put this under a cut so hope it worked!

:readmore:

Source material

Most modern fantasy stands on the shoulders of JRR Tolkien who basically ingested a ton of European myths and languages (with focus on Northern Europe) and spat out the middle earth legendarium.

Eric Kripke (plus writing team) seems to have ingested a ton of US urban myths and US pop culture and spat out “Supernatural-verse”. Because it is *US myth making* it is distinct from a lot of other US writing that builds off Tolkien and / or European myth arcs (I’m looking at you Star Wars, Westeros etc).

And the themes and sensibilities therefore pulled out by Kripke are *not* the same as Tolkien’s themes and sensibilities. This makes it different to a lot of modern genre fiction (in whatever form) that either builds on or seeks to subvert the themes in Tolkien’s work.

(There’s also a lot of genre fiction that is satire or allegory for the real world, but that is another category to me and not really world building in the same way - incidentally the Boys fits into that category along with Good Omens).

Both ofc back end off the Bible but this is English literature based story telling and no one escapes the Bible or the bard.

Structure

We usually think of Tolkien in terms of:

(1) Hobbit - entry level nicely structured “there and back again” story for children, darker than expected. Main hero arc -Bilbo.

(2) Lord of the Rings - the pretty perfect fantasy master piece - very accessible clear meaningful themes and tidy /satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs, but clearest drawn are Frodo / Sam.

(3) Silmarillion (&etc) - this is where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not accessible, some of it is *not* a good read but the ideas here build the world. We have a creation myth. The “good” “wise” guys turn out to be more complex and flawed than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama. There are epic doomed romances between immortal beings and mortal beings. Everyone messes up and makes catastrophic world destroying errors on the regular. People get cursed and can’t escape their doom. I can’t think of any real traditional hero arcs (maybe Beren or Luthien??). Note Tolkien didn’t finish this and it’s put together by someone else.

Now let’s do Supernatural

(1) seasons 1-3 - Horror procedural-

Entry level solid procedural hunting / horror story. Sam W is here in the traditional hero role. Dean is like your Thorin initiating the adventure. John Winchester is in the Gandalf role (he knows what’s going on and holds the secrets but is not available to the adventurers at all times). Maybe there something deeper and darker going on? This is your Hobbit equivalent very accessible but not particularly unique.

(2) season 4-5 - myth arc - lots of fans will say this is the perfect part of the story and a masterpiece of genre writing. It’s neat with clear meaningful themes and a tidy satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs though Sam’s remains the most clearly drawn. Dean is more like your Aragorn or Faramir at the end of 5, Bobby in the mold of a Theoden and a Castiel in sort of Gandalf type position. Baby ofc is Shadowfax. This is your LoTR equivalent

(3) seasons 6 - 15 - the Legendarium- this gets a lot of criticism but it’s where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not that accessible, some of it is not great to watch, but the ideas here build the world out. We have a creation myth (hello Chuck & Amara). We have hero doomed by the narrative (most notably Dean Winchester, though also Castiel). We have epic love stories between mortals and immortals. Yes I am comparing Dean & Cas to Beren & Luthien (!) though Turin & Beleg would perhaps be more appropriate (there’s a good case for Dean = Turin in this universe). The good guys turn out to be more complex or darker than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama.

There aren’t really any straightforward hero arcs which is one of the reasons Sam fades out a bit and Dean comes forwards as a character. The stories are messy and tragic.

Landscape

Middle Earth - if you read the books or watch the movies or show it’s clear that Tolkien’s (sub)creation is a love letter to the mountains, lakes and woods of England and Europe. It’s also a cry of anguish for their destruction. Both the beauty and destruction are heightened (Europe doesn’t really look like this and really never did - as for the movies they were shot in anew Zealand and then digitally enhanced…) This is as important as the characters and plot - and stands out in particular in the Hobbit and LoTR where there are long descriptions of landscapes (or long shots of the same in movies / shows).

“Middle Americana” - it’s clear that as much importance was put into the look of the landscapes in Supernatural as to the characters or story. In this verse the look is long open roads, beautiful mountains and big skies that are a declaration of love for America, and the run down small towns seem to present wistful sadness. But again it’s not real it’s heightened. The cinematography in first few seasons is particularly thoughtful (and perhaps Kim Manners is to be thanked for that). The show is shot in Canada and the motels / gas stations in middle of no where needed to be built because they didn’t exist in reality. Again the landscape - the open road, the small towns, the big sky, the motels / dinners / gas stations in the middle of nowhere are as much a character as anything else.

I could go on but I suppose if anyone read this far you get the point (and more importantly it’s now out of my head and I can think about something else!).

Ultimately it will take some time to see if this could be right - in terms of genre fiction Tolkien is everywhere and you can’t escape it (even if you never read or watched any Tolkien!). Time will tell if the Kripke verse has the same impact on creatives and audiences, but I just look at the A03 archive and notice how many people know what happened on Supernatural without ever watching it (!) and think hmmm these are the readers and writers of tomorrow after all.

[allylikethecat]

omg??? the teacher thing thats so mean 😭 good to know you took it as a champ and the fact you kept it AND printed it is so funny

She was actually the worst person I ever met omfg it's been twelve years and I'm still bitter about it 😂 I am never getting rid of that email. Sometimes I pull it out and am like "maybe I was exaggerating" but nope, it really says all that in black and white text sent to my gmail in 2012. It's so crazy to me that a TEACHER would put something like that in writing. She also said I was beyond help, like gee thanks. Way to you know, teach. I am SO OPEN to CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM and feedback that I can use to better myself, but telling me you've given up on me isn't exactly helpful. She was also the sole reason I wasn't allowed to take AP English in high school, she refused to sign the form to let me enroll.

One time, she took points off of my The Great Gatsby reading quiz because one of the questions was "What color is Gatsby's car" and I said yellow and she marked me wrong and said it was BEIGE because it was supposed to represent A PENIS and MASCULINITY so my happy ass went and FOUND THE PASSAGE IN THE BOOK where it EXPLICITLY SAYS Gatsby's car is YELLOW and SHOWED HER and she then told me I was being disrespectful for questioning her... Nothing fuels a person like spite does and I dream of one day publishing something and then mailing her a copy 🤣

I hope you are having a wonderful Tuesday and that you have a great rest of your week!

❤️Ally

[eoieopda]

interlude: sundown (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x reader summary: as it turns out, your boyfriend can take as much as he gives. au: darksided (masterlist), established relationship type: drabble | smut + fluff word count: 1.9k rating: 18+ cw: pov switch, min yoongi gets pegged 🙌🏻, afab!reader, needy & subby yoongi, v soft dom!reader, praise kink unlocked!!, anal fingering, sex w/ strap on, k*ss*ng (eek!) a/n 1: you thought i’d get through a(u)gust without a yoongi fic? pleaaaaase. this is part of the darksided series, so i recommend checking out the other installments first, just so you have all the context. this can be read as a stand-alone drabble, though! this one takes place after blindsided, btw. a/n 2: i don’t spend much time talkin’ ‘bout prep due to the word limit, but it is both implied & v important. be safe! 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You can’t say what came over you. It wasn’t a conscious decision, you know that much. The only explanation you can fall back on is that the feral part of your brain simply took over, and your inner construction worker popped out to say hello — but that’s not entirely accurate.

In reality, it was less of a greeting and more of a “Damn, baby! That ass.”

Mere meters away, your boyfriend is bent over the bookshelf he’s been working hard to assemble — a task you were politely banished from executing, not thirty minutes ago. When he finally registers what you just blurted out, he stands back up to his full height and glances over his shoulder at you. His expression lands somewhere between bewildered and tickled fucking pink.

“Did you just catcall me?”

“I — I think…” You’re more shocked than he is, it seems. Blinking slowly doesn’t help you process your actions any quicker, so you give up and grimace through your admission. “I might have?”

Of the two of you, it’s Yoongi that truly has all the audacity in the world. After setting his screwdriver down onto the coffee table, he crosses his arms loosely over his chest and bites back a smug grin.

“You think you know a person after seven entire years of dating,” he tuts. “Then, they turn around and harass you — in your own home, no less.” Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he shakes his head and sighs, “Life comes at you fast.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him with your incredulous mouth halfway open. It’s the most that anyone should expect from you at a time like this, when he’s looking at you like that — characteristically semi-flustered, and still so unshakably self-assured. With narrowed eyes, you opt to hone in on the former.

“You’re out here smuggling cake in broad daylight — looking downright bite-worthy —”

Peeling yourself off the couch, you cross over to him with your hands raised defensively. When you reach him, you plant those same hands on your hips and heave an exasperated sigh.

“What was I supposed to do? Pretend otherwise?”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow but says nothing, simply aiming his flat-lined smile your way. All it takes is your slow, expectant blinking for him to take the hint. Just like that, you fall into a well-practiced routine: him opening up to pull you into his chest, you lacing your arms around his waist, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

And even though you haven’t left the house all day, this is the first moment that truly feels like home. It’s quiet, it’s calm, it’s —

“Bite-worthy, huh?” 

You can’t see his smirk, but you can hear it. 

“Surely, this is not the first time this is being brought to your attention.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi concedes. His low chuckle tickles every vertebrae on its way down your spine. The tingling only intensifies when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “I just haven’t heard it from you before. You’re behind the curve, so to speak.”

You pause for two reasons: the subtle genius of his phrasing and the new bit of trivia he seems to be alluding to. Is he — ?

“You’ve pegged?” You ask, glancing curiously up at him. 

The answer wouldn’t surprise you one way or another. More than anything, you’re impressed that the two of you still find things to learn about each other. That you can spend the better part of a decade with someone, side-by-side, and never run out of new conversations to have.

When he tilts his chin to look down at you, his expression is a perfect mirror of yours.

“You haven’t?”

Yoongi’s head crashes back against the pillows before his sigh can slip fully from his mouth. The impact seems to knock it loose; it floats away, above your bowed head. The sound gets lost somewhere underneath that of your open-mouthed kisses trailing so fucking softly across the bare skin of his chest. 

If his heart stops with every flick of your tongue over one of his nipples, you resuscitate him just as quickly with praise.

Apparently, being told he’s beautiful has the same physiological effect on him as a shot of epinephrine.

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi groans from deep in his chest when your mouth ventures far enough to kiss the tip of his cock. That action is fairly chaste, all things considered, but the way his pre-cum shines like gloss on your lips is beyond obscene. 

You smile with your eyes alone as you take him into your mouth — and you think he’s beautiful? 

He can’t think of a single prettier sight than you and your fluttering lashes, looking up at him like he’s the one that hung the stars in the sky. Ridiculous. It’s him that frays a little further at the edges with every glance down at you.

Pulling away with a lewd pop, you murmur, “You can be more vocal than that, can’t you, baby?”

Oh, god. 

The smile tugging at your mouth makes his heart leap and his cock twitch. Untouched, it jumps and re-settles against his abdomen.

“Yes.” He fires off his response like a bullet at point-blank range, and you chuckle quietly at his eagerness. Breathless already, he amends, “Fuck yes.”

One eyebrow arches just enough to indicate that you expect a more detailed response. He should know better by now, shouldn’t he? He’s teased you this way a thousand times before, and it’s about time that he tastes his own medicine. Acknowledging that fact, he stoops to begging.

“Please. I want you to fuck me open with your fingers.”

Nodding appreciatively, you trace your finger along the underside of his shaft and leave him on the brink of losing his goddamn mind. He’d gladly let you drive him insane this way, but you take that hand away and gesture for him to turn over. As you do, you hum, “And I want to see you on your knees, love.”

Yoongi takes your instructions and runs with them, barely careful enough to avoid knocking you backwards off the bed in the process. He settles on his knees, then looks back over his shoulder just in time to watch you pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

You look nervous, though you try to hide it. He’s no stranger to that worried crease between your eyebrows; and he can’t help the downward curve of his mouth when he sees it.

There’s never been — and will never be — a person he trusts more than you. Careful, perfect, sweet. You couldn’t hurt him even if you tried, and he knows without question that you never would. You, however, seem less sure of that.

Yoongi has to twist back around to do it, but he cradles your jaw in his hands and kisses you deep, with everything he has. 

“I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours a second time. It carries more meaning than that; he suspects you hear each one.

I trust you.

It’s okay.

Already reassured, you whisper back to him with darkening eyes, “Elbows on the mattress, then, Min Yoongi.”

To say that he collapses against the comforter would be an understatement. He’s certifiably boneless the second your fingertips trace down the length of his spine, though his hunger for your touch starts him shivering.

“Relax, sweet thing,” you tell him. To encourage him, you lean forward and press your lips to the small of his back; instantly, you soothe the tension his body holds as if you’ve flipped a switch. It’s automatic, just like the low groan he emits when you murmur, “Good boy.”

The quiet that follows is ultimately interrupted by the faint slosh of liquid. He has to beg himself not to clench at the mere thought of your slicked fingers, so he instead lets his mouth fall open when he feels them glide over his rim. Needier than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life, Yoongi whimpers. 

It’s a pathetic little sound, but he doesn’t dare to try and swallow it down. He’ll give you everything; every pleading sigh and shuddered moan, all of it.

And — as a courtesy — he’ll refrain from calling you a liar because there is no fucking way that you haven’t done this before.

It’s simply unbelievable with how expertly you navigate the intricacies of his body, applying perfect pressure where he craves it. With the way you translate his incoherent whining to a plea for more, giving him exactly what he wants.

Two fingers deep, you tease, “So greedy, aren’t you baby?” 

But there’s no harshness to your tone, so soft around the edges. In fact, your little snicker suggests that you’re impressed. It takes all he has not to cum at the sound alone.

“Just for you — ” He responds through gritted teeth, blissed-out eyes squeezing shut. “— F-fuck. I can’t get enough of you.”

When you slip away from him, he proves your point, whining petulantly. You soothe him with an affectionate squeeze to his ass cheek, chuckling all the while. “Should we fix that, then?”

Yoongi has no idea what words he slurs in an attempt to answer that question, but he hopes he tells you how badly he craves your cock. He must, he figures, because he hears the telltale glide of the nightstand’s top drawer when you pull it open.

His head lifts from the blankets below to catch a glimpse of you settling the harness over your hips. For a moment, he forgets when, where, and who he is. The only reality he can currently comprehend is the one in which you’re running your fist down black silicone as if it’s a part of you, spreading slick from a bottle. 

But then you disappear from his line of sight, leaving him disoriented. He misses you already.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look on your knees.”

The mattress dips under your weight, signaling to him that you’ve settled behind him once again. You tap the length of the dildo against his skin, prompting him to groan. Still teasing, you ask, “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, angel?”

Shit, shit, shit. 

Yoongi feels the tip hovering near his hole and he can’t keep his racing heart in check, so desperate that he’s practically vibrating. Your next words pull him further apart; they sound especially filthy in your light, almost reverent tone.

“Show me how well you can take me.”

He plans to do just that.

Slowly pushing back against you, Yoongi sinks down your length until that indescribable fullness leaves him starry-eyed and keening. After a few measured breaths, the ache subsides and gives way to pure pleasure.

Your praise is gentle, though the effect it has on him is earth-shattering. “Just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

Withdrawing, he leans forward onto his elbows just to repeat the motion, losing himself more and more with every pass.

“Shit,” he hiccups, head drooping so that his forehead meets his forearms.

He only grows more eager when your hands claim his hips. You guide his body back to yours every time he leaves; whispering little wishes that he fuck himself the way you swear he deserves. 

You must hear his ragged breaths over the clap of his skin against yours and sense that he’s close because you hum, “Sweet thing. Are you going to make yourself cum?”

Yoongi shakes his head fervently, although not for the reason you might think.

“Want you to,” he begs on an exhale. “Please, make me cum. N-need you deeper.” 

Small hands flatten against his shoulder blades and press him further down against the bed. With fists full of the sheets, Yoongi gives you a desperate nod, signaling you to take over. 

And you do — without the hesitation he saw in you earlier, proving for the millionth time that you know exactly how to make him fall apart.

And he does — with a cry, so delirious and fucked out that he goes boneless underneath you.

When his body eventually stops trembling, Yoongi feels you pull out of him. He hears the quiet click as you unfasten the harness. Shortly after, his senses are overwhelmed with the warmth of your body coming down gently to cover his, warding off the emptiness that started to settle in your absence.

“You’re perfect.” You mumble with lips pressed to his sweat-slicked neck. “So fucking perfect.”

Funnily enough, he was just thinking the same thing about you.

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[all-things-fic]

Jealous Guy / A Quarantine Harry interlude

A/N: Hey everyone…. Long time, no writing. Hope you are all okay? You’ll have seen from the odd ask that I’ve mentioned this one being in my google docs getting dusty. Genuinely I feel that it’s been giving me a mental block on writing anything else, and I think it was because I really thought there should be an element of smut. Re-reading it, that isn’t the case at all.

Happy reading! Speak soon x

He was panicked.

Trembling hands unknowing what to do.

Exhausted of any other option that he once relied upon.

Options that had previously worked. Options that were now failing him quicker than they ever had. 

This time his eight-month baby girl was having none of it. Changing a nappy and gently rocking, no longer seemed to work. She was upset and she was letting him and the entire house know it. 

“Be good for Daddy, Edie,” he hushed, a quick whisper mumbled against her temple. “‘M trying my best.”

Harry leaned his body back slightly as he turned his attention to trying to remove the lid of the baby bottle with one hand. 

Usually she was good for him. The handful of times that he had done any sort of thing - a night feed or shift here or a nappy change there - she had nuzzled into his bare chest and drifted off once more. 

The problem was those handful of times had been when she was tiny. And things changed. He hated admitting it to himself but he felt he didn’t know his daughter. The seven month old that he held so securely to him now felt worlds away from the tiny baby whose curled up legs barely reached his belly button when she was first placed to his chest. 

He hissed a ‘yes’ as the bottle lid finally gave way, popping off from the teet and allowing him to clasp the bottle. A relief flowed through him as he found confidence to shift his daughter in his arms.

“‘S coming, baby,” he opted for a gentle tone. 

Laying on your back, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom and slowly blinked. Cries and grizzles had been non-stop for over thirty minutes now and as much as you loved a trier - and there was no bigger one than Harry - your fingers twitched to offer some form of help no longer wanting to hear the distress. 

You knew it would be a tumultuous line to cross. One that he would either be grateful for, or one that would create the faintest amount of resentment. 

Trying not to dwell on your thoughts, you pulled back the bedsheet atop your frame and exited your bedroom. 

As you rounded the doorframe, you caught Harry with his head rolled back on his neck and face looking up towards the ceiling. It was a picture you had found yourself in many times in the early stages, a level of exasperation radiating off him that could be felt by you from over the other side of the room.

Staying silent as you rested, your eyes took in the way he presented your daughter her feed. His movements were forced, but not forceful, his hand quick to pull away the item each time her tiny hands pushed and pulled at the plastic intrusion.

“We’re not playing, Edie,” Harry said, a hefty sigh rocking through his upper body and over the words.

“She isn’t,” you replied for your daughter. 

The sound of your voice had him raising his tired eyes to look at you. While his stare lingered, you noticed it seemed void of any care, almost too lost in logical thought to slow himself down rather than quickly complete the interaction with his first born like a task (of many) on a list. 

“Here, let me show you how.” 

You slowly pulled yourself away from the doorframe, movement tentative as you approached them both. Gently, you lifted your hand and placed it to the top of your daughter's head, stroking at her hair.

Harry’s body was stockstill as you lifted her tiny body and felt the soft trembles rock through her body from her subsiding distress. If your eyes hadn’t been so taken by your baby, you would have been able to see the dejected expression that laced Harry’s features as he noticed the way she began to soften when in your hold. 

Taking on a rocking motion almost immediately, you looked on as Harry loosely held the bottle of milk towards you. You easily took the item from his faint grip, feeling zero resistance. Turning the teat to your daughter, you gently let it rest at her pouty lips. 

It didn’t matter that you were mostly fading this out now for solids, not when she needed comfort. 

“You need to let her take it when she’s ready,” you softly spoke, voice barely a whisper. “She’ll know when she wants it.” 

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry made his barrier as he set his eyes on the relaxing face of his pride and joy. He took in the motions of your hand as you gently stroked the teet at her mouth and watched it drop open slightly to suckle. 

“Sometimes if you let her know it’s there, she’ll do the rest,” you kept your eyes down as you addressed Harry, waiting for her chubby hand to join yours in holding the bottle. “She does this thing if she takes my boob where she nuzzles first and finds my nipple herself.”

Soft eyes looked up at you with a pique of enquistism. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you?” you heard the way your voice lifted as her small hand clasped against yours as you felt a smile lift at your mouth. “And when she’s grabbing, she’s not playing,” you flicked your eyes up towards Harry who stood quietly watching your exchange. You turned your eyes to Edie once more, “She holds it herself sometimes now, cause she’s clever. Aren’t you, Edie? Are you a clever girl for Mommy?”

Breathing deeply Harry found himself unable to continue taking in the two of you. 

“Shall we show Daddy how we do it?” You whispered, glancing again towards your husband. Harry took in the eagerness in your gaze but fell short of being able to match you. 

Why was he so incompetent? 

With downturned lips, he leant in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder from where your dressing gown had slightly fallen open. 

Feeling him move around you, you lifted your face to look at him. His body now slightly behind yours. 

“Stay,” you asked. 

“You’ve got it all in hand.”

“H-“

Feeling his hand slip from your collar, you bowed your head as he walked away before raising it and looking at his retreating figure from over your shoulder. 

***

Watching her small body rise and fall with breath, you were confident enough that she was settled to slowly leave the room. Feet softly padded against the carpet, down the landing and back towards your bed.

You found yourself stilling in all movement when you saw his side of the bed still empty. With a soft frown gracing your brow, you quickly swiped up the baby monitor that sat at Harry’s bedside table and turned to walk downstairs.

You were able to make out the dull light that came from your kitchen, once you had walked through the rest of the house which was cloaked in darkness. It was there that you found your husband standing in almost pitch black, besides the light that sat in the extractor fan above your oven. 

Harry rested against the kitchen counter, presenting himself in a shape to you that had gone unnoticed due to your lack of closeness since the year prior. He would always be a kind of lanky that exuded he was partial of tripping over his own two feet, but he wore his impending Dad-bod in a way that acknowledged while he had been eating for two, he’d also been working out for two. 

You noted his nose rested against the lip of his trusty mug, most likely warm and filled with his favourite coffee. It was something he often did when in thought and you didn’t know if your presence would be welcomed once he came to.

Placing the baby monitor down to the kitchen counter caught his attention, his eyes peering at you across the barely lit room. The silence was deafening. 

“Everything okay?”

He hummed, tone flat. A short nod thrown in your direction as he took a sip of his drink and rolled his lips into his mouth to remove them of any moisture the drink had given them. 

“You should’ve gone back to bed.”

“So should you.”

You felt a wry smile lift at your lips. 

“‘M awake now. I’ll probably just go for m’run or summat,” he continued.

“It’s not even five.”

“Perfect time then, no one’ll be around to harass me.” 

He threw back the rest of his coffee, tilting his body slightly to place the mug in the empty sink behind him. 

Your eyes looked him over as he stroked at his face, heels of his palms rubbing - almost pressing - into his eyes. He was obviously frustrated.

“Like I’m doing right now, you mean.”

The sigh that left him was one filled with exasperation. “If that’s what you think,” he trailed off, right hand running over his mouth and his day or two old stubble.

You felt yourself close up at his response, the way he seemed dismissive of your comment. Your - or at least you thought - obvious concern. While you didn’t have the desire to fight, his energy was the reason you had come to the conclusion that you were nothing but an annoyance to him in the moment. 

The first you realised he had moved was when his hand rested gently at the curve of your waist. The slight pressure against your skin before he stiffly drew you to him. Lips at your hairline, his whisper of “go back to bed” seemed almost a figment of your imagination. 

Then he was gone and suddenly it felt cold.

***

His feet pounded the pavement as he reached up to fix the bud of his earphone once the voice of Aaron Bruno had started to fade.

The heave of his chest and the dryness of his throat were two of the main things that kept him going. Blood pumping and fatigue weighing down his legs, he felt his frustration heavily lace his limbs before soaring away into the dark London morning.

Street lamps were still lit, leaving him running with nothing but his shadow and mind racing with bitterness.

It sounded silly, and he was ashamed to admit it but the green-eyed monster within him had openly reared its head above the parapet and Harry felt it would take a lot to push it down once more.

A run usually cured him. Allowed him time to proceed. To realise how minute he really was in the world. 

The feeling of the damp air signalled that there would rain at some point, a feeling that would’ve once soothed his soul. Heart pumping out of his chest, reminding him of how alive he was. Not today. 

He felt bile rise up the back of his throat causing the harsh stamp of his feet to slow as he approached the wooded area of the street in which he ran. 

Body bent over, hands on his knees he threw up his morning coffee, spitting to try and remove the bitter taste from his mouth. Slowly raising to full height, hands now on his hips, Harry tried to catch his breath. 

Inhaling through his nose and out his mouth, the tremble of his lower lip threw him off guard. His throat thickened, his blinks quickened. Harsh swallow. Heels of his palm pressed against his eyes as he tried to hold it. 

Hands wiped down his face with a harsh pull, he looked up at the sky which had started to get lighter. Worry racked through him as his mind raced. Why was he crying? 

***

It was eerily quiet when he finally made it back home with a Gail’s Bakery brown paper back swinging at his side. He tried his hardest to not draw attention to his arrival, the palm of his hand encasing his keys entirely as he laid them gently on the sideboard next to the front door.

Toing his trainers off, one by one, his Nike socks padded against the wooden floors with a stealth that he welcomed. As he walked, he slowly paused in the doorway to the lounge. His eyes found you curled up on the sofa, your favourite throw cushion nestled in the space between your neck and shoulder.

In his silent watchfulness, he thought that there was no way you were comfortable. Surely not. Then he supposed your exhaustion may have gotten the better of you. 

With the bag still in hand, Harry approached you and gently placed it onto the coffee table. His hands reached behind you for the throw that had recently become an addition to the back of he sofa, there if ever the need for a quick baby cuddle struck. 

As the blanket hit your body, he noticed you move with such a sudden jolt it caused his neck to dart to the right to look at you. Owlish eyes, round and startled, looked back at him. Your right arm had moved upwards, almost to stop his gesture of covering you. His touch somewhat foreign to your recent memory. 

“Shit,” he abruptly whispered, more so to himself. “‘M sorry, I didn’t-“

His voice trailed off. Didn’t what? He didn’t mean to wake you? Didn’t mean to be a prick? 

Two sets of eyes stared at each other in silence. 

The tautness of your body slowly seemed to fade as you came to, Harry steadily lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the coffee table opposite, abandoning trying to cover you.

“What time is it?” 

The sound of your tired rasp made his shoulders sag. You really needed the rest, and he’d broken your slumber.

“Just after seven.”

“Must’ve really needed that run.”

Your comment was innocent, though it could’ve been taken snidely. He had been gone longer than he should’ve been.

“I got us breakfast.”

His words were woven with an unspoken peace offering. He felt guilt crawl inside him, slowly starting to eat away at the jealousy within. Selfish, selfish man. 

He couldn’t look you in the eye. The ticking of his jaw as he clenched it to fight the burn of his throat once more, at his silent deprecation, which would surely be seen as unjustified. 

“Bet you could use a shower first?”

He scoffed a laugh at your suggestion, a faint smile lifting at his lips. “Smell me all the way from over there, eh darlin’?”

The term of endearment warmed you. You felt yourself sink into the cushions beneath you. He was within reaching distance, nowhere near as far as the question would lead to believe. The literal meaning was nonsense, figuratively he had hit the nail on the head.

He chanced a glance at you. “Fancy comin’ wi’me?”

You strangely blushed at his offer, but faintly nodded your head. It felt odd to blush over such a simple request. You supposed part of you felt tension between you both and you appreciated his apparent desire to try and smooth things over. 

He stayed seated as you swung your legs out from underneath you and sat so that your right knee brushed against his. Standing, you felt the terracotta silk of your pyjamas brush your skin as you reached to sweep at his hair that was damp from a mixture of morning dew and perspiration. 

“Come on then,” you smoothly whispered, hand squeezing lightly at the curve of his shoulder. 

Slowly standing, Harry’s front awkwardly bumped into your back, his hand reaching for yours as a way to steady you both. 

His touch was clammy when your fingers slotted against his. The knowledge of such a thing calming any nervous edge that fizzled within your being as you led the two of you upstairs. 

Harry lingered on the landing as you walked into the bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn it on and let it warm. His feet tread lightly, trying to avoid the lone squeaky floorboard that haunted you both on night feeds. 

When he stepped inside he caught you leant over the bath, rearranging the bath toys and trinkets that were placed in a basket to the one corner.

As his eyes dropped to take you in, they noticed the one lone rubber duck that was sitting at your feet. Silently bending, Harry retrieved it before declaring himself in the room with a, “don’t forget ducky.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, taken aback by him being so close. It amused him, his expression alight for the first time over the last few hours. 

He watched as your eyes fell to the plastic duck, hand reaching out to take it from his grip. “This thing is the bane of my existence,” you admitted.

“You love it,” his voice was as hushed as yours. “Gets her to laugh every single time, without fail.”

That was one thing he could rely on that hadn’t changed during his time away. 

You noticed the slight downturn to his lips as he spoke, before turning to place the duck on the side. “You get in first,” you nudged him. “Let me go undress-“

“Do it here,” he paused, before softly asking “please?” when his hand reached up to brush your hair behind your shoulders. The back of his hand turned to smooth down the silky fabric before dexterous fingers slowly rolled at the buttons of your pyjama top, the two sides giving way. 

He bit away his smile as he felt you press his hand to your breast bone, spoiling the fun before the fabric gave way and revealed the swell of your breasts. You saw the way his bottom lip bounced ever-so-slightly when he let it go from the bite of his teeth to say, “Gonna need my hand back to get involved.”

You let it fall.

Harry quickly made use of it and pulled at the collar of his shirt to lift it up and over his head. His socks, shorts and underpants quickly followed only for him to cup his manhood to cover himself as he turned to walk under the warm spray of water.

Next, the silk of your garments satisfying slid down your skin, trousers easy to step out of and top aimlessly forgotten too.

From behind the glass shower door, you watched Harry close his eyes and willed the subconscious frown to relax from his brow. 

You stayed silent and looked on. He needed this moment. For the water to fall onto his taut muscles, to loosen and wash away whatever concerns that were weighing him down. 

There was something lingering under his skin and while part of you was determined to get it out of him, you knew for the benefit of you both it had to be on his terms. 

Opening the shower door, you stepped inside with Harry keeping himself turned away from you, the expanse of his back was impressive as he held his hands flat to the bathroom tiles and let his head hang forward. 

You lifted yourself onto your tip toes, arm wrapping around his front to steady yourself as you pressed your lips to the skin on his back.

In reply, he squeezed your hand. 

***

As expected the shower had been filled with awkward silences, lingering stares and fumbling feet as you moved around each other to bathe. Harry haa gotten out before you, roughly drying his body and hair before tip-toeing out to peep into Edie’s room. You only knew the last part cause you caught him slowly shutting the door when you left the bathroom underneath your own fluffy towel. 

“Fast as a rock,” his voice rumbled, confirming she was indeed still asleep. “I reckon we’ve got another two hours for us before she makes herself known.” 

You had softly smiled at his words at the time, not really knowing what to say. He gave you a small smile of his own, as he walked past you and mentioned something about flicking the kettle on as he made his way downstairs. 

The two of you were now laid out on the sofa, Harry on his back, legs accommodating you as you lay atop him. Crumbs from the pastries that you’d shared mingled with your skin and sprinkled the plates that sat on your coffee table. 

His hands were gently massaging at your shoulder blades as he sang under his breath to John Lennon’s ‘Jealous Guy’. The rumble of his chest was soothing, as you pressed your face further into his pec and inhaled the smell of his freshly washed skin.

The sound of a drowsy sigh caught your attention, your head turning on Harry’s chest to look at the baby monitor that was now directly in your eye line. 

A video of a sleeping Edie met your eyes, all content with one arm resting above her head as she remained on her back. You kept silent as you tried to zone in on the coos she was making to see if anything was out ordinary, but she continued to seem satisfied. 

“She’s happy dreaming,” you spoke more so to yourself. 

“How do you know tha’?”

“Listen to the noises she’s making,” you pointed out, well aware of how you sounded.

A silence fell over both you and Harry, but rather than one of contentment, an awkwardness lingered.

“I’m useless.”

Those two words he spoke were heavy as they broke through. “I’m so- so fuckin’ useless babe.”

You lay still, atop him, a frown forming at your brow as you listened. He wasn’t useless but it wasn’t your time to intervene while he was on his self-loathing train. Not yet.

He quite clearly had a lot to mull over, to speak out loud. 

“I have not got a fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’ wi’her. Not one single fuckin’ clue and-“ he sucked in a deep breath that racked through his chest when released. “I’m standing about like a spare part, in the way of you and the incredible job that you're doing for the both of us because-“

“Because what?”

Your voice sounded so unusual to you. So small. 

“We all have to start somewhere, sometime-“ you continue.

“No, it’s not that, I know that. It’s because- I feel like I have to when- I guess, I’m making it worse.” He paused. “Every time I come home I’m reminded of my inadequacies and earlier on during my run I actually thought about not coming back because I can’t stand it.” 

You felt yourself hold your breath as his confession, body wriggling to try and get out of his hold. His voice was getting breathier and breathier as he spoke and you knew if you pulled yourself up to get a proper look at him, you’d at least find his lips downturned. 

The heavy swallow he did next only confirmed that for you.

“I’m so fuckin’ jealous of you,” he croaked. “Of the bond you share. Of,” his voice faded. “Everything, pretty much.”

As he spoke, you lay in silence unsure of how to broach the subject. Did he need you to be supportive, or did he need some tough love? 

Before you could stop yourself you felt the bubble of laughter start, the shake of your shoulders underneath his touch.

“Okay,” he started, clearly offended, “alright, I get it. I’m being ridiculous. You can stop laughing at me.”

“Babe,” you started, lifting yourself slightly. As you did so you saw the way his vacant stare lingered on the ceiling, his stubble unnecessarily inviting to you as it peppered his cheeks, chin and underneath. “Harry,” you tried again to get his attention, “I’m not laughing at you. Am I laughing at you telling me this while Jealous Guy is playing in the background? Yes but not at you.”

Listening to your words, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In a matter of seconds he’d turned his head slightly and from this position dropped his eyes to look down the bridge of his nose at you. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “At least not the new things. I am impressed that I’ve made it look like I do.” 

From your words, you watched his features soften. “And don’t,” you reached up to hold his chin between your forefinger and thumb. “Don’t think I don’t ever need you, that we don’t need you-“

“Cause we do,” you paused. “But if I’m honest, I’m going to need you to just do it. To just get involved, to make the mistakes and to learn from them because I can’t do it all on my own.” 

“I don’t need you dwelling on the fact that she didn’t take a feed from you one time. I need you to suck it up and try again in two hours time when we- you, try her with baby porridge because quite frankly I’m sick of finding it in my hair and I think you should get the enjoyment of experiencing that at least once.”

Seeing the flicker of his lips gave you hope.

“Really nice of you tha’ is,” he started. “To give me tha’ experience.” 

“I know. I’m really a giving person in that way.”

A small silence filled your space again. It was a little light this time. Progress. 

You let your eyes run over his features once more, hands getting the better of you when the thumb on your right hand tried to work away the lines of worry etched into his forehead. 

“We need to learn together, grow together. Help each other,” you hummed, unable to look him in the eye, your own concern of how he’d admitted how he was thinking of leaving ringing far too loudly for you. “We’re stronger together.”

“Look at me,” he requested. You fought against his ask, feeling the burning of your throat appear. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

You swallowed heavily, nodding your head. “So, can you please look at me?”

Two pairs of sad eyes met. 

Envy had no rest, and the trouble was you were both already so tired.

[keraxxx]

HIII could you do something where the reader tells bf!ethan how bad her days was and told him someone was really mean and upset with her and they end up going missing the next day bc ethan obviously killed them?

A/N: Hi and of course! This idea is perfect! I’ve been wanting to write something like this omg. I hope you enjoy!

————

No one can hurt you.

Ethan Landry x Fem!reader

Warnings: crying, mentions of bullying, cursing, description or murder, not proof read.

————

God you were tired. After that long day at college you couldn’t take it, especially after that one girl keeps running her mouth. She always would talk shit about you and it ruined your day. You just needed to see Ethan and talk to him, hold you for at least a second. So that’s what you did, you went to visit him.

You walk to his dorm and gently knock on his door, trying hard not to get anger and pound on it. You wait patiently as you hear shuffling inside.

Ethan opens the door confused bit his face immediately lights up he was so happy to see you. You were his girlfriend and he loved you more than anything in the whole entire world. “Hey baby.. are you okay?” He frowns as he sees your eyes swell up like tears. He invites you inside immediately, his dorm mate no where to be seen.

“Ethan.. I can’t take this anymore.” You finally let out a sob as he takes you into his arms. “Baby.. what wrong?” Ethan hugs you tightly and rests his head on top of yours in an attempt to comfort you. You couldn’t form any words, you just cried. “Shh.. calm down and explain to me what happened.” He brings you to his bed and sits you down.

“This stupid bitch!” You yelled. “She-she won’t stop talking shit about me! What did i do to her? I just need someone to explain to me what the hell i did!” You vented and sobbed. Ethan just say in silence, listening to your cries. “I can’t stand her! I want her to disappear! Maybe then all these people will stop ruining my day with these stupid insults and rumors.” You wipe your face and look at Ethan.

His face was twisted into a frown, his brows furrowed. You could tell he was mad, words couldn’t even explain how he felt right now. “That’s interesting.” Is all he says as he holds your hand, his other caressing your face. “I need you to calm down.” He says calmly, his eyes look innocent but you can tell something inside him had just snapped.

You breathe in and out a few times. “I’m sorry..” He shakes his head. “No need to apologize I understand.” Ethan hugs you again and your arms wrap around his neck. “God i’m so sorry.. I just wish it was me and you.” You say softly into his ear.

“Don’t worry.. it’ll be okay.” He says as he pulls away to kiss you softly.

————

After you had left, Ethan was sitting in his room, his hands folded into each other. He was moving his knee erratically as he started to think. He didn’t want you to be upset about the girl but he also did want you to be worry for about why she was going to go missing the next day.

“Fuck it.”

————

You where scrolling in your phone in your bed as a news article popped up. A news article about your college. You immediately read the title.

“Young girl missing in College.”

You scroll down to see the image of the girl. It was her. The girl who always had something to say. Your eyes widened in shock as you gasped. You couldn’t believe it. Maybe the universe was on your side? No, this is bad. You had to show Ethan.

————

“I just can’t believe it! I was just talking about her yesterday right? God this is such a nightmare!” Ethan laid back as he watched you pace around the room nervously. “Everyone must be so worried! Her family, friends! I feel so bad.” You say as you pout and walk over to Ethan. You lay down next to him and you both face each other. “How are you not worried?” You say frowning.

Ethan chuckles. “Why should I be? She was rude.” He smirked before kissing your forehead. “Don’t worry about it.. She probably just passed out drunk somewhere.”

But he knew what you didn’t. He knew that she was screaming in the alleyway last night for help. He knew and you didn’t.

“I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that right?” He smiles softly and innocently.

————

[faeriekit]

I haven't spent a day without reading after I discovered ffn in high school.*

I genuinely don't have any perspective a life looks like without reading. I used to smuggle library books into middle school math classes, and get all four of them confiscated, one at a time. In the second grade, I smuggled books out onto the playground so I could read longer. In between those years, I spent time taking out books from the 80s and 90s in my school library-- but once I could get free literature on my itouch forever, as long as I had WiFi? Game changing. GAME. CHANGING.

People like to knock on fanfiction and, fine, sure, there's bad stuff out there just like everywhere else, but there's been no greater treasure in my life than clicking open a tab wherever I am-- bus, dr.s office, work, in bed-- and knowing there is a story there for me, if I just adjust my ao3 settings. Fanfiction is a lesson and a story and a celebration of stories all at once. I learned how to write from the fanfics I loved. I learned how to refine my sense of grammar (for better and for worse). I learned what worked and what didn't in a story. I learned what people like, and why they love it. I learned what different shapes and sizes of love look like in different eyes. I learned how many people can well and truly love a story, entirely independent from the media conglomerates that designed it to be marketable. Thousands of strangers freely, happily, embracing a story. Telling each other stories.

And the TAGGING system on ao3 changed my life. Ffn? Awful to navigate. Even worse to search on. The crossover options were limited and the categories were slim. Ao3 is a love letter to fans, and from fans to the media they love. I'm getting sentimental. It's 2am. But I wouldn't trade a thousand hours in my school library for the gift of reading at my fingertips, everywhere I go, for the rest of my life. And it's all because a stranger on the internet wanted to tell me a story.

Anyway. Blister Pack hit 30,000 hits. I write this story for me. But when it means something to all the readers popping comments in my inbox, all I can do is be grateful that it touches something in you, too. I don't know how long it'll mean anything to anyone, but the joy of archiving fics means that there's infinite time in the world for us to find the story we need today. It'll still be there in the morning.

*(I don't think my ventures with livejournal counted. I was only on there sporadically.)

Edit: drafted 11/28/2022

[numerologica]

debunking some 12th house placements / stelliums in composite houses? usually ive seen people here say there’s usually an expiry date with those placements but vedic astro has a different say!

© Numerologica 2024 all rights reserved, this article is protected by copyright norms, do not copy, repost, rewrite in any way or you'll be sued for copyright infringement.

First and foremost: I don't know much about vedic astrology as my personal education is based on western/hellenistic, so I can't tell what vedic astrology has to say with 12H Placements/Stelliums in Composite, but I definitely can tell you what my education & experience taught me.

(¹) Difference Between Western and Vedic Astrology - Saurav Chaturvedi

(²) What's Hellenistic Astrology - Chris Brennan

● WHAT'S A COMPOSITE CHART?

⎯ A Composite Chart is basically the fusion of two [or 3+ at times] charts together, and it indicates the general energy of a relationship, without taking into account the individuals as synastry does.

⎯ Unlike Synastry that indicates the dynamics of interaction between two [or 3+ at times] people and their general compatibility, Composite Charts kind of show the outcomes of this interaction, it's like a third component to the relationship.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

read this: the Composite Chart by the astrologer Liz Greene.

" When we are looking at a composite chart, we are not exploring what two people activate in each other or feel about each other. We are interpreting the energy field they generate between them. The composite chart is like a child, a third entity which carries the genetic imprints of both parents but combines these imprints in an entirely new way and exists independently of either of them. "

~ Liz Greene, The Composite Chart

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

● WHAT'S THE 12H ABOUT?

(³) The 12th House - AstroTwins

All I'm writing below is based on these books from professional, experienced and reliable astrologers: Hellenistic Astrology by Chris Brennan, The Twelve Houses by Howard Sasportas, Ancient Astrology by Demetra George and The Contemporary Astrologer's Handbook by Sue Tompkins.

⎯ it is about the unconscious, behind the scenes activity, secrets, spirituality, hiding, secret enemies, hidden things, mystery, mysticism, psychic abilities, restricted spaces such as hospitals and jails, grief, healing, enlightenment, transcendence, dreams, confusion and at times even illusion, altered perception of things/reality, hypnosis, magic, self-undoing/self-destruction/self-healing, addiction, sacrifice, dependency over things/people, escapism, the holistic world, enigmas, sorrowful experiences, things that don't seem real, seclusion, loneliness, confinement, charity.

doesn't matter how romanticized these placements may be by tiktok/pop astrologers, it is astrologically and realistically more correct to say that 12H Placements in Composite Charts especially Stelliums could be a bit hard to handle due to the complex nature of the 12H and also potentially the complex nature of the planets involved (ex. Mars/Pluto/Saturn/Uranus). Is this relationship destined to be a disaster? Not necessarily. Is it destined to fail? Not necessarily.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

[ ⚠ ] DISCLAIMER : the entire chart must be analyzed as well, always.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

● POSSIBLE EFFECTS of 12H PLACEMENTS/STELLIUMS in COMPOSITE

⎯ Having a secret relationship or having a lot of secrets while in a relationship

⎯ Being very devoted to each other to the point of having a mystical/spiritual relationship

⎯ Being overly sacrificing, both or one of the partners involved may give more than take and find him/her/themselves frustrated because of it

⎯ Refusing to see your partner's flaws or face your relationship problems for the sake of keeping the "perfect and unconditional love"

⎯ Having an idealised view of each other, or one having an idealised view of the other partner. This can result either in deep admiration or a toxic "I put you on a pedestal" thing

⎯ Having a lot of unresolved karma together, maybe from past relationships or past situations

⎯ Cheating (I know it's a hard pill to swallow but it can happen), due to secrets/idealisation of the partner to the point of possibly overlooking his/her/their behaviour and actions.

⎯ Being "addicted" to one another, both positively or negatively

⎯ Healing together, having a religious relationship where you both practice the same form of spiritual activities or religion

⎯ Deep, intimate and exclusively private bond with someone who's able to see your darkest side, your "hidden world", almost telepathic connection

⎯ Issues with communicating or communicating emotions

⎯ Feeling alone, restricted or imprisoned in the relationship

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

MASTERLIST

© Numerologica 2024 all rights reserved, this article is protected by copyright norms, do not copy, repost, rewrite in any way or you'll be sued for copyright infringement.

[spearmintsmut]

MY OWN MUDBLOOD 7

So glad I kept writing this ~ thank uuu my loves I’m so glad you like it so far 🤍

You had laid on the warm grass with Draco for what felt like minutes and a lifetime. Like the clock stopped ticking and it was just his heartbeat drumming quietly under your ear and the the sound of his breath in the other. Your mind played the last week like a movie in your mind. It made no sense to you that in such a short blip of time, your essentially muggle life with your mother was uprooted, moving from London, to a mansion with a family you had all but just learned of, and expected to treat them as family. To meet a woman your father was marrying in the same day that you were expected to live with her. To meet a boy who had fought in the greatest wizarding world, on the wrong side at that, to hate him so quickly, and give yourself to him a week later. None of it made sense. You couldn’t possibly wrap your head around it, and trying made you dizzy. You still battled yourself, desperate for your father to finally show pride in you, and accepting that he never would. Even bringing you to his new home was likely in a bid to finally have a daughter who might become even half the witch he wished you were.

It was only when the sun started to set and the sky turned a dreamy orange when you realised how long you had laid there with him, lost in your own thoughts. Seemingly noticing at the same time, he gently sat up, helping you to sit up at the same time.

“We should eat,” he simply said, holding his hand out to help you up. Your legs trembled and you felt sore and weak between your thighs and Draco laughed watching you steady yourself. Your cheeks reddened as you felt his eyes on you. You followed him back into the manor and into the kitchen. It was large, with a marble counter and pots that stirred themself and you realised you had never been in the kitchen before. Only ever in the dining hall.

He asked the house elf, who stood as tall as his hip for some fruit, and it was the first time you had seen the elf smile. It seemed odd to you that Draco could make a being you thought to be below him smile. Was he kind to him, unlike how you’d read his father treating them - or was he that scared of your step-brother that he would paint a smile just for him. They exchanged words and the elf magically summoned a glass bowl of fruit.

Draco took the bowl with a polite but casual “thank you” and you realised it was the first time you had heard anyone in the house thank him. The meals you had eaten, the cleaning you had seen him do, neither Narcissa, nor your father had thanked him once.

You half expected Draco to leave you there and disappear, but even after lying with Draco after he had taken your virginity, you weren’t ready to be alone. You followed him up the stairs, dreading him going to his room and you, yours - but when he got to his room and waited for you to follow him in, you sighed quietly to yourself in relief.

You had gone 18 years of your life knowing men weren’t to be relied on and a large part of you wasn’t ready to challenge that, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling In your chest, the longing that you had to be around him, that hope that he longed for you too, and respected you enough show it.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, as you watched him sit down on his bed. The line between step-brother and something else entirely had blurred beyond comprehension in such a short time, and you had no experience with either one of those.

“Are you going to sit down or just stand there like a git?”.

You laughed awkwardly and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. The cherries in the bowl looked like something out of the cartoons you watched growing up. Nicer than real food should look, you thought. You picked one up, popping it in your mouth. There had to be magic in these cherries, you were sure of it. You looked up when you realised you hadn’t asked to eat his food, and when you caught Draco gazing longingly at your stained red lips, his eyes darted away. Though you had seen his mask slip in real time, his walls were built back up in a second, his parted lips quickly closing into a tight line. It puzzled you how he could be so sweet and charming in the smallest ways, and so unrelenting in acting like he wasn’t. You supposed he didn’t know any better, or that he must have had some sort of reputation to maintain. He stiffened up beside you, so you decided to drop your train of thought. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to another person having access to your thoughts. They were the only thing that was ever yours. You had both been trapped by, and escaped into your thoughts your entire life, knowing that if you had nothing else, you had that. Now, your mind was taken from you and your body, you had given him.

He pulled you into him, back against his chest, and you had no choice or desire but to comply. You looked up at him, his jaw sharp and angular even from your angle as he looked down at you.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered, and though his voice was gentle, it was no less than a command and you did as he said, meeting his eyes as you did so. His long, slender fingers picked up a cherry and pushed it slowly into your mouth. Your plump lips closed around it, and he pulled it from the stem for you. The juice ran down the corner of your mouth and he caught it with his thumb, licking it off seductively. You were in awe and the anger you had felt toward him, though you hadn’t let it go entirely, lay hidden below layer upon layer of a new feeling. You had never understood, nor cared to understand your friends pining for the men in their lives. It never made sense to you the way they would talk about the little, unimportant things they would do. Though you had felt you were missing out on important milestones in your schooling years, it never appealed to you enough to chase it. A part of you may have even felt you didn’t deserve it - like it was something so out of reach it wasn’t worth longing for. Now, those little things made sense to you. The way his jaw would clench and it would send your stomach fluttering. His hands, oh his hands. You felt embarrassed that you’d notice them, and your imagination forever following close behind, but you didn’t know how to shut it off. How to avoid him peering in.

You let him feed you more cherries, smiling sheepishly as he watched you intently. Finally you spoke up,

“Thank you for the duel. You didn’t have to go so easy on me, but it got my mind off things I guess,”

“I wasn’t going as easy on you as I should have,” he seemed to be pained at his thoughts. His brow furrowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t..,” he trailed off deep in thought.

You realised how uncomfortable he was that he had thrown you.

“You didn’t hurt me Draco. I wanted to learn and I did.” Though you weren’t always sure of yourself in your magical abilities, you knew youhad learned what you did quickly, and you knew he was doing you a favour in teaching you. He didn’t even want to when Narcissa had suggested it. He frowned at your words and you knew he was holding back an argument.

“You did learn quickly. I’m sure you’ll be ready for school by the time the summer is over.”

You looked up at him, assuming you had misheard him but before you could ask him to repeat himself, he smiled and repeated himself.

“You’ll be ready for school when I’m done with you. You don’t think I’m going to let my Mother marry you into my family if you never attend Hogwarts.”

You couldn’t believe his words. You had barely learned a handful of spells and he was suggesting hogwarts? You hadn’t even thought you were young enough to attend. Before you could ask, he answered your question.

“Hogwarts offers 8th year, higher education. Since I was a prefect before the..before last year, I’ll be completing my studies there after the break. I’ll make sure you are offered the same.” He spoke so matter of factly, you almost missed the generosity of his offer. You had dreamed so often of what your life would have looked like had you been allowed to attend. You had fantasised about it almost every day since you had gotten your letter, and after you were told you would not be allowed to, you had held so much resentment toward your mother for it, and even your father for not sending you anyway. Now, you would potentially have a chance at attending and you couldn’t even begin to comprehend the offer he had so casually given you. All you could manage was a “Thank you”, words completely obliterated by shock and overwhelm.

“Don’t thank me. You should have never been stuck in muggle London. Your parents did you a great disservice, even if you’re a..half blood.” He pushed the word out like it tasted foul on his tongue. It stung like the first time he had called you a mudblood, but you were in too much shock for it to bubble under your skin like it had before. He was right. Though you assumed he was disgusted that a witch had deprived their child of an education rather than care how you felt about it, it was reassuring to hear it from someone else.

“Did you know Narcissa was marrying my father before we moved in?” You asked. Though it must have seemed out of nowhere to him, you had been brewing on the question since you had met him. It seemed to you, that you were always last to know about anything your family did. Though you were both only children, it was obvious that you had very different experiences as such. He was the man of the house and you, an afterthought.

He thought for a moment, studying your face before finally answering.

“Yes. I knew. I knew who you were before you stepped into my home,” he answered coldly and you knew he was referring to your “impure” blood.

You didn’t know how to respond, nodding your head instead.

“I’m guessing I knew they were marrying well before you knew we existed too,” he added and your heart sunk. He was probably right, and him drawing that conclusion so easily didn’t help. Of course he did - you envied what he and his mother had.

“My father was barely in the ground before that was decided,” he spat and you were snapped out of your thoughts at his sudden admission. A rare snippet of his thoughts of his late father, and how he felt about the engagement. He lifted you up like you weighed nothing before you could even think to reply, and tossed you back into his bed, moving you out of his way like a light object. He stood up, moving toward a cabinet gracefully. You watched his large hands wrap around a bottle on the shelf. He pulled the top off with his teeth and took a swig. He hissed out a breath after gulping it down, and offered the bottle to you. You had tried a few drinks in high school, but had never drank anything out of the bottle, so you shook your head no.

“I’m having a friend over tomorrow,” he started. “You better have some then. It’ll get your mind off things,” he offered. You wondered if he was the friend you had heard his mother fussing about. You felt nervous at the thought of meeting them. Would they feel the same way about half bloods, or someone who didn’t go to Hogwarts when them? You decided you would likely avoid it all together and just stay in your room.

You thanked Draco again for the lesson, and left to shower the day off you. As the hot water covered you, your soapy hands roamed your body, reminding you of the way Draco’s had earlier that day. You looked down at your body and noticed small bruises that had already started to form on your hips, and you couldn’t help the blush heat your cheeks. You were horrified in your naive and prudish mind when your friends would brag about bruises and hickeys that boys would leave them with, but realising you had been marked by Draco in such a wanton and animalistic way drove you wild - Like a hint to a secret your body kept with his.

[quinloki]

What's your writing process like? Do you draft everything at once and then release chapter by chapter as you edit or something similar?

How to you keep your notes organized? I think you've said before in an ask you use Scrivener (me too!), how do you organize that? I love seeing peoples writing processes in general, if your comfortable explaining!!

Okay you're awesome thank you 💛

Process. Ah. Ahem. Organization... /sweats/

Okay, so organization I have something like that. Thanks almost entirely to Scrivener if I'mma be honest. My projects are organized by blorbo - so like all the Kid x Readers are in one project, and then broken down in files by book.

Except for A Light Touch - cause that's in the Grandline AU collection project, and all associated stories are in there with it.

Notes, though, and er... drafts... Ah.

So I would like to note I mean this in the stereotypical pop culture way, and not in the legitimate way, but I'm insane.

I have never known how long a story was going to be until I wrote it, and while I've had a few slapdash outlines for stories, I never manage to stick to them, so I barely even bother writing them out anymore.

Usually the process is something like:

Inspiration -> Idea -> details for Idea -> some notes -> decide certain parameters -> and time allowing either set aside or start writing chapter 1.

Quicksand, for instance, was inspired by a piece of fan art. It was going to be a one-shot. I started world-building and deciding functional parameters and uh... it's 20 chapters if you don't count the alternative story line. The inspired scene doesn't even happen until like chapter 18.

And even within that, I'd meant for Crocodile to be way more terrifyingly yandere to the point that Doflamingo was going to be the GOOD GUY.

That was the plan. That did not happen.

Inversely, I had the first 5 chapters of A Dragon's Clause outlined, and got so into it those 5 chapters were 8 chapters when I ran out of outline. There are, however, THREE different pages of notes for world building, characters and orgs, and important details, that I reference while I write, and I very much expect the story will be near to 50 chapters, if not longer.

Hey Doll has no outline. It's got a page of notes.

The Host Club AU as nothing set in stone except the Club itself and the owners. Yeah I did some headcanoning and world building via asks, but I still don't know what I'm going to keep and what I'm going to cut, and I'm going to start writing chapter one in June XD There is no outline.

Hell, the ending of a Heart of Gold was decided by a scene in A Light Touch, so one of the reasons I'm going to a little slower than usual is because I have to make sure Heart stays on track. (And yes, A Light Touch, Quicksand, Heart of Gold, and Thrice Prophesized all happen in the same AU at the same time - it's not just a backdrop AU for those stories like it is for Some Direction and Hey Doll.)

But yeah, that's uh... that's it. I don't really have much of a process beyond "This is what I want to work on" and then I turn on a appropriately themed playlist, pick some art to have on one monitor and write on the other. And honestly, thank fuck for like @swampstew, @mamaalpha, @standfucker, @lyndsyh24, @writing-yarn-goblin, @kazieai, @anon-germany, @theaceofflamesposts, @zorostittiesz, @leakyweep, @icy-spicy and @thus-spoke-lo and @mewiyev for all being awesome fucking friends.

Between writing sprints, and beta-reading and inspiring with head canons and thots and art and support and the list goes on and on - I just. (and gods that's not even including @friedbluechicken and @cyborg-franky and can you understand how long this list is gonna get?)

I just kind of stumbled into this whole fandom thing. I didn't know wtf I was doing or what, and I swear I tripped into being friends with Lyn and Raven and it's all kind of a blur and from those two to everyone else on that list to many more beyond that and these alarmingly talented people talk to me of all the random ass bastards out there, and folks are sending me asks thinking I'm cool and wanting to know my process and like -

I'm just a stoat in a trench coat man, I don't even know what I'm doing here.

/ahem/ Okay, I got a little off the topic, but I guess I can't really say I have a process, and I don't plan out my stories much at all. But I will have highlights like I want x, y, and q to happen, so how do I do that? And the real relief is being okay when the story goes a different way and I just let it. I wrote Some Direction inside of a month just doing that. The only thing I knew about that story was who the antagonist was going to be ^^;

[writingseaslugs]

Pomefiore: Pocky Game

Fun Fact: In most dorms I go in order of House Warden, Vice Warden, then I go based on year (so for Heartlabyul it goes Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce). The only exception to this rule is Pomefiore. I save Rook for last every single time. It’s like a reward to get to write him.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Pomefiore: Pocky Game

Apparently, no matter what world you end up in, there will always be some delicious biscuit coated in chocolate that comes in a stick form. You discovered it one lovely day when shopping for some snacks at Sam’s, and the moment you noticed them, you grabbed several boxes. They were a delicious treat, but there was something else you wanted to do with them. You chuckled as you got home, putting the bag down and grabbing your phone, messaging a certain someone if they wanted to hang out and have snacks.

“Hey, henchman!” Grim said, crawling onto the counter and going through the bags of snacks and other miscellaneous groceries you two needed for the week, “Did you get my tuna?” he said before pulling out a box of pocky, “Oh, what's this?”

“They’re pocky, and you’re not allowed to eat them all. I bought plenty of boxes. You can have one, but the rest are mine.” You said, knowing that Grim would certainly steal more than one box. He opened it up and took a bite, humming at the taste before going to scarf the entire box down. You just sighed, shaking your head in disappointment. He went to snag another box, and you didn’t have the heart to stop him.

You felt your phone buzzing and checked it, seeing you got confirmation for snacks and chill. You chuckled, grabbing two boxes and stashing them in your coat pocket as you started to get ready to head out, “Grim, I’m heading out. Please unload the groceries…your tuna is in one of the bags.” You said, gesturing to the small pile. Grim perked up, deciding to just tear through them until he got what he wanted.

“Whatever you say, henchman!” Grim said, not bothering to ask where you’re going.

“Aaaaaaand?” You trailed off, wanting him to give you a proper answer.

“I’ll do the groceries…” Grim said, and you hummed another ‘and?’ at him. “Aaaaaand thank you for the tuna,” he finally said. With that, you grabbed your house keys and began making your way over to Pomefiore.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was waiting at the door for you, a small smile playing on his perfectly painted lips, “Welcome in, prefect, I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting.” he said and you smiled, walking into his room. You looked around, noticing a few scripts sitting neatly on his wardrobe with a few makeup brushes in cleaner.

“Thanks for having me over, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You said, looking around the room. Nothing else was out of place, so you assumed he was just rehearing and getting a few chores done.

“Not at all, I was planning on taking a break soon anyway. Now, may I ask what you’ve brought?” Vil asked, looking over at your clothes. You had just tossed on a heavy coat and you could tell he was judging the appearance of it. Vil was known for sometimes tossing more expensive and fashionable clothes your way, always saying he got it in a sponsorship or modeling job and he didn’t need it. You had an odd feeling that you’d be leaving with a new coat tonight with how much he hated what you were wearing.

“We call them pocky where I’m from.” You said, taking the snacks out of your pocket. Vil hummed, taking the snacks and placing them by the desk before walking behind you and helping you take off the coat. He hung it up on his coat rack before sitting down on his bed. You quickly joined him, snack in hand.

“What are they?” Vil asked, inspecting the box you handed him. You made sure to grab the dark chocolate one for him since it was technically the healthier option.

“Just a sweet treat.” You said, watching his nimble fingers pop open the box and grab a stick out. He looked it over before turning to you.

“I don’t normally indulge in sweets, you know this.” Vil pointed out. You frowned before getting an idea.

“Then how about indulging in a traditional game with them?” You asked, Vil was now interested. You quickly explained the rules of the pocky game to him and he seemed almost smug that you’d come to him for this game.

“A kissing game? I must admit, it is a rather smart way to market a plain snack like this. No wonder they were so popular where you came from.” he said as he spun the stick around. He then placed it against your lips, “I’ll play this game of yours.”

You couldn’t stop the silly grin on your face as you opened your mouth and took one end in. He placed his lips on the other end and, gracefully nibbling on it. You felt his lips brush against your own before he snagged the last piece and pulled away. He covered his mouth, as well as the mischievous grin on his face.

Your lips formed a pout as he began speaking, “It appears I’ve won…why do you look so sad?” he teased, “I thought you just wanted to play the game. If you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve said so sooner.”

Your words were caught in your throat, as your face began heating up. He had so easily caught on and you felt his hand cup your chin to force you to look at him. He then leaned in, giving you a proper kiss, though it was still too short. You found yourself chasing after him when he left your lips, “My, you sure are insatiable today.” he noted at the desperate look in your eyes, “It appears I am as well.” He said before leaning back in.

Rook Hunt

You don’t know why you were so shocked when you opened the door to Ramshackle and saw Rook standing there. You only had a mini heart attack before noticing he had his arm out, “Now what kind of man would I be if I didn’t escort you?” he asked, relishing in your surprised look.

“Were you around the area…how’d you get here so fast?” You asked and Rook chuckled as he felt you wrapping a hand around his arm. He began walking alongside you to the hall of mirrors.

“My, I just happened to have heard a bird's song and was drawn to it. When I got the message from you, I knew it was meant to be, it had called me out to walk you to the dorm.” He explained and you huffed. Of course he wouldn’t give you an actual answer, when did he ever answer something normally?

“I’m sure that’s exactly what happened.” You chuckled, walking through the mirror and to the Pomefiore dorm. He traversed the halls easily, even while he looked at you.

“Are you doubting me, mon amour?” Rook said, causing you to blush at his nickname for you. It always felt so intimate when he called you that.

“A touch…” You murmured as you two walked into his room.

“You wound me.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. His smile told you another story though, clearly he found it amusing.

“I hope you’re not too wounded, I still have a snack to share with you.” You said, bringing out the box, “And a game.”

“A game? Please, do tell.” Rook said, taking the box and looking it over. The snack didn’t look too impressive, but the aspect of playing a game with it had him leaning closer to you. You quickly went over the rules of the game and Rook was now very interested.

“A game between lovers?” he said, taking one of the sticks out of the box, “And you’ve chosen to play with me?”

“Well, it can be played with friends as well…” You said, hoping he wouldn’t reject the idea.

“A splendid game, come, let’s play.” he said, placing one end of the stick in his mouth. He held it for you and you quickly took the other end. You both began nibbling on it until Rook’s lips clashed against your own in a sweet kiss. He wasn’t shy about deepening it. He placed a hand on the small of your back and kept you there.

He hummed into the kiss, loving how your lips molded with his own. He parted for a brief moment to tell you as much, before going back in. Your hands found their way over his shoulders as he supported most of your weight in your breathless liplock. When you bit down gently on his lower lip he groaned. The sound shot a shiver right up your spine.

You two parted, panting a bit with a small string of saliva break between you two, “My little petit renard, if you keep this up, I won’t be able to hold myself back.” he warned you.

“Perhaps that’s what I’m hoping for…”

Epel Felmier

Epel was waiting outside the dorm when you came over; his entire body perked up as seeing you. He quickly made his way over, grabing your arm, “Hey, how about instead of staying here, we find somewhere else to have snacks.” You could see the desperate look in his eyes. He didn’t even need to say anything to know that Vil would be out for his neck if he found you two snacking.

“Alright, fine. Where do you wanna go?” You asked, letting him lead you to the hall of mirrors. You were expecting him to drag you to Ramshackle, but soon you found yourself in the school’s giant courtyard. It was quiet at this time of night, and students weren’t out and about.

“They won’t look for us here.” Epel said proudly as he sat down on one of the benches. You couldn’t help but laugh as you sat beside him.

“Vil running you through the wringer again?” You asked, pulling the snacks out of your pocket. You handed him one and Epel didn’t even bother looking at it, just opening it up as he leaned onto the bench more.

“He wanted to show me this new body scrub that smelled like flowers. Apparently I should smell sweet, but I prefer muskier smells.” Epel said, taking one of the snacks into his mouth, “Man, it’s been a while since I’ve had these.”

“You’ve had these before?” You asked, wondering if perhaps the snack was more popular than you thought.

“Ya, one of my cousins brought them before after visiting the city. He said he found them at a store and they looked good.” Epel said as he ate another.

“These were popular back where I used to live.” You noted, “We even played games with them.” You said, quickly explaining the pocky game. Epel looked curious before a smirk appeared on his lips. He placed one end in his mouth and offered the other to you.

You were more than happy to play, nibbling on the stick before your lips connected with his. You two stayed like that for a moment, your lips moving in sync with one another before you finally pulled away.

“I like this game…want to play another round?” Epel asked, grabbing another stick.

“Honestly, I think I’d rather just makeout with you.” You finally decided on, after a quick pause. Epel’s eyes widened and you noticed the faint blush on his cheeks. He then smiled before pulling you into another quick kiss.

“I think I’d rather do this too.” he said against your lips before going back in for more.

Are you a fan of Diasomnia like me? I bet you are if you read my content (we love the boys in this household). Want to support a visual novel that will feature Diasomnia dorm, has multiple routes and endings, as well as some spicy visual scenes? Check out @twstfournights and if you want info, check out their announcement post!

[yourstruleejn]

six days of us

six days of a love story. from its beginning to its end.

⋆

pairing // kim taerae x fem! reader; other characters mentioned are hanbin and kim chaehyun on the readers side, and junhyeon and matthew on taerae’s!

genre // fluff & angst; university student! au; he fell first, she fell harder-ish; it’s based on six selected day6 songs!

word count // 14.5 k

tw // not too sure, insecurities in one’s own feelings but if there are any more lmk!

playlist // here (i recommend listening in order but i can't really tell you what to do so! have fun!)

author’s note // i‘m back!! so sorry it took so long but i genuinely loved writing this! it was so much fun, i tried to keep it kind of realistic but it’s been a while since my last relationship so i’m not too sure i succeeded lol! anyways i hope you enjoy reading and that it was worth the wait!

!!! reminder !!! everything i write about on here is entirely fictional and in no way am i saying this is how the people mentioned would act in real life! it’s all just pretend! ♡

How come when the skies turn grey, heavy clouds like curtains keeping out the light, we forget the vivid of the blue, the warmth of sun? How come when the winter months set in and the trees stand bare, we forget the rustle of the leaves as the summer wind hums the tune to July? How come when a person enters our lives, we cannot imagine our life not knowing them? But how come, once the same person leaves, everything reminds us of them, like a ghost coming back to haunt us, to remind us of what could have been?

1. hi hello

The smell of coffee, polite smiles, and the morning rush. It was usually around May when you noticed that the hot chocolates turned into iced americanos. An established tradition for your co-workers and you, was to buy the drink for the first customer who ordered it iced. A welcome to summer, a deed to make someone smile. Of course, the lot of you usually ended up giving out more than one free drink, not only because of miscommunications, but mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. Thus, you and the other employees were more grateful than ever that your boss was as lenient as he was, usually laughing it off, and popping an ice cube in his steaming hot cappuccino as a gesture. Nevertheless, he was sure to give a stern warning (or a friendly reminder, as he liked to call them) to not give out any more free iced drinks once the first week of May had passed. You usually just smiled at your phone as the yearly text made all of your phones whistle in unison.

The first Friday of May was here and with it you had hoped a comfortably busy day at work. The weather was embracing the light mood of the university students running around near campus, and you were convinced more than one of them would crave an iced beverage of some sort.

You had been cleaning the espresso machine, making sure everything was bound to run smoothly for your next order, when the serenity of the afternoon made itself known to you: No customers were queuing for their orders, the inside-tables of the small coffee shop were empty, the ones outside just as unoccupied, which was due to the unexpectedly harsh sun, who warmed the cement for the first time, radiating it back towards the already heating air. It was to be expected, the parasols were still packed away in the storage room in the back of the shop. Sighing you rested your head on top your hands looking through the opened front as the quiet outside world was conquered by the sunrays of early May. You could feel the cool of the counter spread onto the palms of your hands, as the dooming boredom of your uneventful work afternoon towered over you.

Very quiet, you thought.

Too quiet, you complained silently.

And it was unusual that nobody was here. In the two years you had worked at the café, the only times nobody had come in was in the midst of summer, and even then, there had usually been at least one person at a time. So, this was very odd. If Chaehyun had been here, she would have told you to not question God’s gift of a minute of peace and quiet. However, this wasn’t a minute, it had been minutes. Plural. On top of everything you enjoyed working as a barista, even if it was stressful at times, at least there was always something to do. Well, apparently almost always.

At the beginning of your shift, your boss had asked you if you would be fine alone for a few hours today, you had agreed reluctantly, as it could have very well gone wrong, but now you were glad that you had not insisted on anyone else coming in. You knew Hanbin was busy with dance practice, and that Chaehyun had been excited all week for a date she was going on today. Having one of them come in unexpectedly and then do nothing all afternoon, would have been not only a waste of their time but also of your boss’ money. So, you supposed, it was fitting for this particular Friday to be slowest day ever. Even though it meant boredom for you. Oh my god, this was going to be a long afternoon.

Time was passing three times as slow as it usually did. In the past 15 minutes you had been sure three times, that it was time you started the closing duties, only to realize that merely a handful of minutes had passed. You had grown so impatient with today, that you considered turning the time forwards, so that you could close early ‘on accident’ and go home. Of course, as an amazing employee you would never do anything like this ever, but it sure crossed your head once or twice (or three times actually). Sighing at the clock once more, you retreated back to your position with your head resting on the counter as you wait for the seconds to creep by.

Immersed by the ticking of the time and so busy tapping the rhythm of the melody stuck in your head that you didn’t notice someone approaching the shop, until the bell announced his entry.

“Hi,” a rather low voice greeted as you scrambled into your usual upright position behind the counter.

“Hello!” You smiled at the young man in front of you. He must have been around your age, maybe a little bit older, but that was judging by his voice. His appearance was sweet and youthful, his smile bright, his hair a little messy, but just the right amount. Charming. He was the kind of boy that would star in a Taylor Swift music video. Classic friends-to-lovers. You had to suppress a small giggle at the thought of it.

In the moments between his greeting, your greeting and the Taylor Swift fantasies, your brain still found the time to wonder what his order would be (it worked fast like that). Maybe something classic like an iced americano? Or something unexpected like a strawberry latte? You had been so bored, alone the thought of making a drink excited you beyond reason.

“What can I get you today?” you asked with a practiced, but this time more genuine than not, smile on your face.

“Oh,” He looked a little lost, you noticed only now, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, “I was just going to ask whether or not it was okay for me to set up for busking in front of the café?” He turned around, pointing to the small open area in front of the unoccupied seats.

 It was a nice spot for busking, the shade from the trees making it cool enough to perform in the summertime as well. Your eyes darted to the guitar bag slung across his shoulder, lips caught between his teeth as he expectantly waited for your answer.

“Oh. So, you don’t want a drink, huh?” You really tried to suppress the disappointment, but judging from the look on his face, you weren’t doing a good job. Well at least you would soon have some sort of entertainment. And who knows, maybe he was so good, he’d bring in some customers.

“Do I have to buy a drink to be allowed to busk?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression changing from sweet to curious.

“What? Oh, no that’s okay. You can go ahead.” You smiled at him, nodding to the small square in front of the café.

He smiled slightly, determined to satisfy your need to prepare a drink for him, “Actually, I could use a little bit of a refreshment.”

Matching his expression, your face now showcased a bright smile as you handed him the menu. You weren’t sure if he could tell how grateful you were to finally be able to do something other than stand around and check the time, but you tried to show it to him by whipping back and forth slightly, stealing glances at him as he decided. You waited patiently as he studied the menu, tongue poking out between his teeth. He was cute, in a clueless kind of way.

Some time passed, but nothing compared to the amount you had been standing around until your saviour in the form of a busker came into the café.

Finally, he lifted his head, adjusted his guitar, slung over his shoulder, and cleared his throat, “Actually, could I maybe get a bottle of water?”

You were about to cry. A whole menu full of drinks ranging from coffees to mochas to fruit teas and smoothies, and this man wants a bottle of water? You were sure he could see the disappointment written on your face once again as he looked up from the small piece of paper in his hands.

A somewhat apologetic smile rested on his lips; he knew what he did.

“Water?” you asked again, just to be sure. Just so that you didn’t misunderstand and accidentally got the man a water instead of the strawberry matcha latte he just ordered.

“Uhm… I-Is that not possible?” A nervous smile was present on his features. On any other day, you probably would have noticed that the boy in front of you was quite literally a nervous wreck; Not only would he be busking in a new area for the first time, but his friends had also convinced him to go ask the cute barista if it was okay to play in front of her café, although he knew it was more than okay and even encouraged by the owner. Still, he did it out of curtsey, and not to finally have a reason to talk to the girl. He had had several pep-talks from his friends, as well as his mother (although she didn’t know what the peptalking was for), just to stumble over his word when ordering a water? Taerae, you really can do better.

“Water is free.” That interrupted his mental face palm as you smiled politely and pointed to the jug to your right. It was filled with fresh orange and lemon slices as well as mint to give the water a little something. Usually, the taste of the fruit would not be that strong as it would get refilled and emptied quite quickly, but today it had been standing around for a while, so you were sure it would actually taste a bit like the citrus and herbs floating inside of it. You supposed the boy would be in for a treat.

“That’s nice.” That’s nice?

“Do you need a cup for it to take it outside?” As you were speaking, you already turned around, grabbing one of the paper cups and a pen ready to write his name on it. You realized it was unnecessary to do this for a mere cup of water, but in all honesty, you were just as intrigued by the man in front of you, as you had been disappointed by the lack of creative drink-ordering; You wanted to know the name of the man that gave you hope just to take it all away from you again.

“What’s your name?” you smiled innocently, already setting the pen down to write as you looked at the man through your lashes.

“Oh. Uhm Taerae.”

You chuckled, “Okay, Oh-Uhm-Taerae,” you handed him the cup, “Enjoy your water!” you winked at him, smiling as he filled it up.

Taerae was a blushing mess. How was he supposed to perform in front of the café now? And also, why would he have ordered water? Of all things, he could have ordered, he asked for water. Wow. For a moment Taerae wondered if it was more embarrassing to play in front of here now, or to just leave and never set foot into this part of the city ever again.

Taking a sip of his water he set down his guitar and finally let out a dramatic sigh, he didn’t realize needed to leave his body right this second. There was not much to his busking set up, just him and his guitar, a stool, and a small speaker. Taerae used to have a booklet with all of his favourite songs, but he knew them by heart now, so no need to hide behind the notes. Matthew always said he would hide his face behind the pages, and when he first performed without it there had been twice as many people, not because he was better, but because people could see his smile. Taerae wasn’t so sure that that was the reason.

Today he seemingly would be playing for an audience of two. Himself and you. You who had been watching his ever move during his set up, as you were wiping down the already clean tables. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he would probably say this was his favourite way to meet new people. In fact, he had met almost all of his best friends through music; be it busking or the choir at his high school, or even just bonding over their favourite artists, music had always brought people into Taerae’s life. So Junhyeon’s theory to just go and ask if it was okay to play in front of the café as to finally talk to you, should have been fool proof. Count on Taerae to mess it up though. He debated whether or not he should text the group chat and ask for some moral support and customers for the café, but ultimately decided against getting teased to death by his favourite tormentors.

The sun was getting lower and lower as Taerae procrastinated starting to play. He could feel as the anticipation radiated off of you. You had settled back behind the counter, still watching him as he pretend to tune his guitar for the nth time. Taerae couldn’t hold eye contact with you for longer than an accidental moment, if had been able to, he would have seen the amused smile on your face as you sipped on a glass of water yourself. Taerae had his ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’ titled cup sat on the ground beside him. He had blushed even more when he had realized how you had teased him and was sure you’d get along great with Junhyeon once he introduced the two of you. If he got to ever introduce to his friends.

He was sure by now you could tell he was stalling, so with one last look around the area, and one last sip of his wonderful water, he strummed his guitar.

*

Music attracted people like honey did flies. Over the years you learned that whenever busking was held in front of the café, the customers would float through the doors, order drinks, and relax to the live music. But as the first notes of Taerae’s singing reached your ears, you wished that nobody would come to distract you from his voice. For the first time today, you wanted nothing but be left alone with the boy and listen, maybe sway through the small room a bit. But sure enough, the first song wasn’t even over, the sun hadn’t even retreated further towards the horizon, its light still bright and strong, not yet soft, and golden, when the first couple came strolling by, and after a short moment of weighing their options, the woman sat down outside, her attention undivided on Taerae, as the man came inside to order their drinks. You sighed softly as your focus on Taerae shifted to the coffee machine, it sound muffling his voice as you grinded coffee ground after coffee ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you could already see the next person enter the shop, still half looking at the performer outside. Now, it would be busier than usual, you were sure. You smiled softly, be careful what you wish for.

*

Taerae was happy he could bring you some business. He was also happy that your very distracting eyes didn’t linger on him quite as intensely as they did during his first song. It had been a successful busking for him even after his first struggles. The sky had eventually turned darker and darker, and the air had gone crisp with the last goodbyes of what once was winter. With more and more people leaving it was time for him as well to wrap up. At one point there had been so many people, it was almost impossible for Taerae to see the front of the store, making it difficult for him to confirm that you were still watching, paying attention to him. The awkward interaction out of his mind, he was happy to catch you look at him during any free moment of your now busy work afternoon/evening.

*

When Taerae started to pack up, the café was already closed. He hadn’t seen you leave, but there had been so many people around, he easily could have missed you. Besides, there was always a chance of a back entrance or something of the like. On the one hand, it was nice that he now could relax and not worry about embarrassing himself again in front of you, on the other he really wanted to know what you thought of his songs; Whether or not you liked them, if it was okay if he came back and played again, if he could take you out to dinner. The usual after busking questions really.

Zipping up his guitar, Taerae got ready to leave. He could still feel the guitar strings giving way and embedding themselves under his fingertips, that’s how he knew it had been a good session. It was quiet now that he had stopped playing, no spectators left but the first cicadas welcoming the night-time. Taerae would have just left if it hadn’t been for jingle of keys followed by a soft “Wait a moment” that caught his attention.

He turned and sure enough there you were, bag slung over your shoulder, hair tied out of your face, revealing a smile and gleaming eyes.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hello,” Taerae reciprocated.

You handed him the takeaway cup you were carrying, adorned with a neat ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’. You smiled as he raised his eyebrows at the nickname, his own heart swelling at your chuckle.

“It’s tea,” You explained, “I figured you could use some after singing all afternoon.”

He nodded, bringing the beverage to his lips. The stark contrast of the cool May night and the heat of the tea made him realize how his body had cooled down, “Thank you. It’s nice.” There he goes again with his nice. He rolled his eyes at himself.

“Well, that’s good! I can make more than water, you know?” you smiled, “Anyways, thank you for today, you brought in more customers than any other busker has thus far. In the name of my boss and his business, I wanted to invite you back to play again. Preferably Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays in the afternoons. That’s when I work.”

Taerae should have acted cool and said something like, I’ll see if I can make it, or I will if my schedule allows it, but instead he just laughed and nodded ‘okay’. He didn’t trust his own voice right now; it would probably give away his excitement.

“Good,” You smiled satisfied, “Then I’ll see Tuesday, Oh-Uhm-Taerae.” You turned to walk away.

“Just Taerae is fine!” He was not going to have his crush call him Oh-Uhm-Taerae.

If he had been any smarter, he would have just said ‘Taerae’. In fact, if he had been smarter, he would have not stuttered saying his name in the first place. But Taerae was Taerae, and you were you.

So, turning around, but not stopping your walking backwards, you smile mischievously, “Alright then, Just-Taerae, see you Tuesday!” you could see his mouth opening and closing in retaliation, but before he could say anything more, with a slightly louder voice you said, “I’m just Y/N, by the way.”

Taerae watched as you waked away, smiling to himself, sipping on his tea, skipping on the way home. He had now been officially introduced to ‘Just-Y/N.’

2. i like you

Another Thursday, another busking event for Taerae in front of the café. It had become somewhat of a tradition for him to play at least once a week when you were working. After each time you’d come out with a cup of tea, which had evolved to iced as May progressed into June and with that spring into summer, and the chill of the nights was more welcomed as a contrast to the hot daytime. Sometimes the two of you didn’t talk much, or hang out, be it due to university or other plans, but most of the time you’d spend the better part of the night walking around, trying new food spots, or just talking and hanging out in front of the café, munching on the left-over pastries of the day. Either way, Taerae was glad to see you at least once a week, and thus the two of you went from strangers to close friends.

This Thursday in particular you had something planned, as you had let him know beforehand. Taerae was excited, a little bit nervous even, it was unusual for you to plan something, normally having Taerae decide what the two of you would eat and do. He was very good at reading people, and he’d usually figure something out that fit with both of your moods.

But not today apparently, today you had decided, and Taerae had no idea what it was so, yes, he was a tad bit nervous.

The daylight stretched until well after 8 p.m. and with the café closing at 7.30 p.m., Taerae made sure to get his guitar and busking stuff home before you were done finishing up at the café. He had been so careful with planning his schedule, that he now arrived back at the square a little early, you were still working, getting drinks to customers, preparing the last slices of cake in the soft pink take-away boxes, smiling at children, laughing at unfunny jokes customers made. He was in awe of you. How could a person be so dedicated to their part-time job? And it was not only at work that you were diligent, more than once had Taerae spent and afternoon studying with you in either your or his universities’ library. The focus you were able to uphold was something Taerae was almost jealous of.  He was jealous of you because you still could concentrate, even if he was around, something he struggled with whenever you were in sight. He had also been jealous of whatever you were focusing on. What in the world could be so important for you to focus on, when he was right there next to you. When he was your… friend?

It frustrated Taerae to no end that he did not have the same effect on you, as you had on him.

Sure enough, after another few minutes of waiting the familiar jingle of keys rushed Taerae out of his head, back down to earth. Back down to real you, not head you. He liked both versions equally, so he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned at him as you made your way towards the boy, “Hi.”

“Hello,” he greeted with suspicion. The expression on your face was foreign, but it really couldn’t mean anything good for Taerae, as it reminded him too much of Junhyeon’s scheming face, you were scheming. In Taerae’s head there were only two options; Either you were planning some intricate prank with his friend, or you were planning something sweet, far from a prank, and Taerae would spontaneously confess in a waterfall of words and your newfound, yet very precious friendship, would suffer from it.

“Why do you look so anxious?” there was a somewhat nervous smile on your lips, eyebrows scrunched up in worry as you handed Taerae his post-performance-beverage.

Taerae shook his head, “I’m not. I just don’t want to get murdered by you. So, before we go, I just wanted to remind you that my voice is a gift to the world, and if you are planning on un-aliving me today, that you’d be taking it away from the whole world and everybody would be mad at you.”

You looked at him, a half scoff, half laugh escaping your lips.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’m sharing my location with Junhyeon this entire evening.” Taerae crossed his arms in front of his chest, awaiting your reassurance that in fact you were not going to kill him.

“What makes you think Junhyeon isn’t in on the plan?” you smirked, while Taerae’s expression fell.

This joking manner was one of the only times Taerae could look at you without his heart combusting or his eyes diverting as soon as they met yours. And while you were laughing at your very lame retaliation, he had time to take you in. It was beyond Taerae how someone could make him so nervous yet so at peace at the same time.

“Come on now, Taerae” you smiled leading the way towards the metro station, “have a little faith in me, yea?”

If only you knew the amount of faith he had in you. So, of course, Taerae followed.

*

Laughing and joking the two of you discussed all the songs Taerae played today. Thus far he had not played your request, which, like every time after a performance, you let him know by complaining excessively.

The station way bustling with people going home from work, students finding their way to their after-school-studies, and people like you; Looking for activities to end the day on a relaxing note. Out of instinct Taerae placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the sea of people towards the train as you were rambling on about this week’s songs and the lack of your favourites (although any song sung by Taerae was your favourite, but not that he needed to know that just yet).

Whenever you and him were together, you had noticed that you forgot the rest of the world existed. Not necessarily in the way, how everything else goes blurry and your focus was solely on him, but rather that real life just slows down a little bit. Whenever you were with Taerae, everything else just seemed less important, far away.

He, however, seemed always grounded. Even when you were excitedly babbling on, Taerae simultaneously smiled and made sure you weren’t in anybody’s way, yet still matched your energy and made sure to react to you. You never understood how he could be so focused on the rest of the world as well. It was especially frustrating because you could either focus on him entirely, or not at all; for you with Taerae it was an all or nothing situation.

*

The train was more or less ripping at its seams when you got on. You always wondered how so many people could fit in such a confined space and not get squashed. You had hoped that due to the nice weather and the rather late hour, it would have been a little emptier, but no, clearly nothing beats the AC of a subway. The hopes of a seat after a long afternoon of work had been abandoned a long time ago, as you got pushed closer and closer towards Taerae.

In all honesty, the boy was panicking. He didn’t know where to put his hands, what to hold onto as to prevent the both of you from falling at each halt the train took. His only hope was for the crowds to thin once the next big transfer point arrived. But until then? He wasn’t sure how to keep standing upright and breathe properly, with you this close.

“Y/N?” Taerae whispered barely audible.

“Hm?” You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

But just as Taerae started to speak, you saw the man behind him stand up from his seat. In an effort to not notice how close Taerae had been, you had heard him grumbling to himself how packed the train was and that he could get off at the next station and walk the rest home, but that had been three stops ago. Now that he was actually getting up, you had to act fast. The man pushed past you and in a swift motion you pushed Taerae against the seat, making him sit down with a thump.

You smiled at him triumphantly as his big eyes looked back at you. The man getting up and you pushing Taerae had happened so swiftly that, Taerae hadn’t noticed he had grabbed a hold of your hand as to not lose balance. And you hadn’t either, smiling happily to yourself as you stood in front of Taerae, shielding him from the masses.

Taerae however, would not have you stand when you had been the one working almost all day. He pulled you towards him, getting up at the same time. To spectators it might’ve looked like a twirl, a spontaneous dance on the subway. Well, as a result, you were now sitting and Taerae was leaning over you, satisfied with the change of position.

For a moment there had been a smug grin on his face, but it was soon wiped away by a blush, as he noticed a group of students squealing next to you, whispering to each other and giggling. You too had looked away from Taerae in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks. But Taerae noticed. And he smiled.

*

From this moment on, the train ride seemed to go on forever. The crowd thinned as your stop approached and soon only a handful of people were in your compartment. Taerae had sat down beside you, taking one of the high-school girls’ seat once they got up and left, but only after they had made sure Taerae did in fact sit down next to you and not anybody else. It was kind of sweet. Still, you couldn’t look any of them in the eye as they got off the train.

Finally, your stop arrived and in a swift motion you got up. Taerae was excited too, he still didn’t know where exactly you were going, but now he at least knew the broad area; The stop was a little towards the edge of the city, where parks and playgrounds dominated the cemented roads. It was a nice change of scenery, and Taerae welcomed it.

Coming up above ground, he noticed how quickly the sun had set, the sky only showing remnants of the bright day at its horizon. You had stopped a few paces in front of him, finding it hard to regain orientation somewhere you hadn’t been in such a long time.

“Where to first?” Taerae asked, curious as to where you could be going this late. You had let him know beforehand that there would not be a grand meal today, and that he should eat something in between busking and your… date?

“The convenience store.” You explained, once you saw the small corner store you used to visit as a kid, “To get ice cream, naturally.”

So, the two of you made your way towards the store and after a few minutes of weighing options and discussing preferences, Taerae and you had decided on green-tea ice cream, and a caramel flavoured one.

“Okay, ice cream secured,” you smiled at Taerae exiting the shop, “Now, Mr. Kim, I shall show you one of my favourite places of all time.”

“What an honour.” He smiled as he tagged along, catching up with you as you started in the direction of a small park.

It had been a little later than you had anticipated, making it a little harder for you to find the exact spot you were looking for. The trees were practically pitch black, and although there were a few lanterns lighting the way, they were too little and too far apart to actually help a great deal. The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you snacked on the ice cream and made your way further into the green.

“There it is!”

As soon as the small wooden pavilion was in sight you tugged on Taerae’s sleeve to hurry. He had to admit, he wasn’t sure why you were this excited about a wooden structure in a park, at the other end of the city. He thought it was adorable, nonetheless. Coming up the small hill he saw that the pavilion overviewed a small pond, where this time strategically placed light illuminated the water surface.

“Nice, is it not?” you teased, smiling up at the boy. Reacting to things with a quick ‘Nice’ had become an inside joke between the two of you, well for you mostly; It was fun for you, but Taerae usually just rolled his eyes.

“It is.” He confirmed, “But why exactly are we here? I mean don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore being squeezed together on a train for more than half an hour and then sitting in a park. I’m just wondering.”

“Careful, Taerae,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “I could still murder you and dump your body in the pond.”

He laughed., “No but seriously, what is this place?”

“I’m not sure. I just stumbled upon it one day during my first week of uni. It was strangely familiar and when I talked to my parents about it, they said we used to come here when I was a kid,” you shrugged, “It’s nothing super special but I just wanted to show you.”

Taerae smiled at you, and you smiled back. It was one of these quiet moments you shared. Your friendship thus far had been filled with laughter and music and teasing, but every once in a while, a quiet moment like this made it special. Until someone decided to break the quiet, of course.

“You should have told me; I would have brought my guitar. Properly serenated you.” He pouted.

“No more serenating, I’m growing sick of your voice Taerae, for real.” You mocked, laughing.

This only made Taerae pout more, pushing your shoulder slightly.

The sound of your laugh faded, and Taerae observed a shift in your manner. The look you gave him in that moment sent a shiver down his spine and for a moment he wondered whether or not you had been actually joking about murdering him or not. You looked so unsure and serious, Taerae had never seen you this way.

In your life, not many days had gone your way. You weren’t sure if there were going to be a lot in the future that would. But you really needed today to go your way. Needless to say, you were worried. Of course, there had been another reason you had brought Taerae here; It wasn’t simply because you wanted to show him one of your favourite places, it was a reason as well, but not the only one. But now that you had to put your plan into action, you worried. You had been scared of your body reacting this way just before this moment. Your throat had dried up and your hands were slightly shaking and your heart, oh dear, your heart was going as fast as ever. Maybe you should just cancel the original plan and just, come up with a plan B? Was this a good idea? Did you really need to do this now?

If anything, the troublesome journey here had only confirmed your plans for today. So yes, you really had to get it off your chest, you quite literally couldn’t keep it in anymore. From the moment you saw Taerae today, to you grabbing his hand and not letting go (as if that was on accident), from the highschoolers, and everyone else on the train, as well as in your co-workers and friends, seeing what was right in front of your eyes. You just really had to tell Taerae.

“Hey, actually, there’s another reason I brought you here,” you forced a reassuring smile onto your lips, as to not worry Taerae.

You were terribly failing at not worrying Taerae; As his mind raced through all his possible wrong doings so that he could predict what horrible thing you were going to say, he kept quiet and anxiously waited for you to continue.

“Well, I wanted to bring you here because, I mainly associate this place with incredibly happy memories and I just wanted that to be a good omen, I guess.” You were stalling. You knew that. Taerae probably knew that.

But Taerae also felt relief. It can’t be anything horrendous when you want this place to be a canvas for good memories right? No, right?

Taerae didn’t say anything. He watched your every move as you turned towards the dark that spread across the small body of water. He heard you let out a deep sigh.

This might go incredibly wrong. It might go amazingly right. Either way, you had to say it.

“Taerae,” you started finally turning to the boy, “There’s no going back after I say this, but just know that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just need to tell you, okay?”

A small smile spread across his face. Oh my god. He knew where this was going. He definitely wanted it to go there. He nodded for you to continue. In the moments between his motion and you starting to speak he thought about how he had failed as a musician. He sang love songs as a passion, he had been singing them as a hobby for years, he studied music at university, he was pouring out his heart to anyone who would listen, confessing to you every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday afternoon through the one language he knew, the one language that felt safe to him. Yet, here you were, about to confess to the boy who had been singing to you for weeks-

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You offered him a nervous, crooked smile. The words leaving you lips much faster than you had anticipated.

“That’s such a relief.” He answered.

“Huh?” You looked almost scared, the blood draining from your face. Was this his way of rejecting you? No, he didn’t look apologetic at all, no pity in his eyes.

“That means all the love songs I’ve been performing have not been in vain.” He smiled taking a step towards you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I like you, Y/N. And I’ve been trying to hold it in, so you can’t even begin to imagine how happy I am that I can finally tell you.”

If it were possible for human eyes to form themselves into hearts, yours would have changed by now. Whatever this man triggered within you, made your heart overflow with feelings, “Thank god.” You answered, making both him and you laugh.

In your nerves and relief and happiness, you hadn’t realized how impossibly close he was by now, even closer than he had been on the subway. You could feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his hand on your cheek. One last smile spread across Taerae’s lips before he finally leaned in to connect your lips to his. You met him in the last millimetres, eager to finally kiss.

It wasn’t perfect by normal standards; The two of you laughed and smiled into each other. You were a little awkward with your limbs, and a little too out of breath to be still considered sexy. Still, it was perfect because it was just the two of you. It was perfect because it was Taerae. It was perfect because it was you. It was perfect because you liked him, and he liked you.

The night was calm and cool when you and Taerae first shared a kiss. The sun had set, and the stars were watching, as your friendship bloomed into love.

3. when you love someone

Summer had been long and lovely, and now Autumn was just around the corner; it was so close, you wouldn’t be surprised if all the leaves had changed colour once you got off this never-ending shift. Taerae’s eyes followed your body as it moved from table to table with full drinks and plates with pastries and then back to the counter with empty dishes and new orders. The memory of the quiet café on the day the two of you first met, was a picture unimaginable, as the small interior was now buzzing with customers. To think you had wished for more customers on that fateful afternoon, when now you hoped the swarm of people would just evaporate in front of your eyes. To describe this time of the year as hectic would be an understatement; Just before university started up again, the café turned into a spot for last goodbyes between parents and now young adults, as well as spot for catching up after the long summer months for friends, who had come to return to their studies.

Taerae had been waiting for quite some time, he was lucky enough to had spot a free table, right when he arrived to pick you up. He had also been lucky since he didn’t actually have to queue for his drink; Taerae, just like all the other significant others of the employees, got the boyfriend/girlfriend treatment; Their drink of choice waiting for them as soon as they entered. By now, you were sure he had finished his drink, even though you hadn’t finished work. You were supposed to get off half an hour ago, but with the floods of people coming through your doors, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Chaehyun and Hanbin alone, feeling the responsibility as the longest and most experienced worker, as well as the burden of being a good friend heavy on your shoulders.

Not only that, but also your boss had spontaneously decided to go on vacation a week ago and had left you in charge. Although it had felt good to be entrusted with this responsibility, you had not anticipated the amount of work it would mean. You had worked almost every day, having to postpone meetups and get-togethers with not only friends and family, but with your boyfriend as well. The two of you had barely seen each other this week, and thus you wanted nothing more than to leave with Taerae and curl up on his couch just as you had planned, but apparently your customers had a different idea: Whenever you made your way over to his table, somebody asked for some special drink that only you knew how to make. Or the cash register decided to spontaneously combust. It was almost comical.

Every now and again yours and Taerae’s eyes met, and you mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’, to which he just shook his head, telling you it was okay.

In all frankness, Taerae didn’t mind waiting for you at the café.

He loved watching you. It was all the interaction he had with you for the longest time before he finally asked to busk in front of the café. He loved watching you so much that if he had to put down his three favourite things in the entire world, it would be making music, kissing you and watching you while you went on about your tasks.

There had always been something magical in the way Taerae perceived you; He had gotten to know you so well over the past three months you’ve dated, that he felt even if he was simply looking at you, he was experiencing something special, a unique feature to your relationship.

 So, it was okay. He really didn’t mind waiting for you.

What he did mind though, was how stressed you seemed; How you always did everything for everyone, more than what they’d ask for, just in case they needed that little extra; How you clearly didn’t see when there was too much on your plate, and still space on someone else’s. Taerae knew that you tended to do everything by yourself, and didn’t want to worry anyone, but Taerae was worried about you. He wanted to be your resting place, to be helpful in some way.

So, when you had finally found a spare minute to come to his side, Taerae couldn’t wait to be of some comfort, to help make you feel a little better.

“Hi,” smiled softly at the man.

Instinctively Taerae’s hand snuck around your waist, pulling you closer for maximum body contact. You smiled as the familiar warmth spread inside your chest, making you instantly ease up a bit, feeling more at home on this busy day.

“Hello,” he greeted, smiling up at you. 

You just smiled at each other for a moment, tanking up on some well needed calm and support, which only your boyfriend could offer. Soon enough however, your gaze was stolen away by a couple that had just joined the queue.

You sighed, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave before closing.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait, I don’t mind. We can go to my apartment after.” Taerae hoped you would agree, but he knew it was unlikely.

Your eyes were fixed on the clouds outside darkening the sky, making it seem later than it was, “Hm… Maybe you should go now before it rains. I’ll come right after locking up.” You smiled at him, cocking your head to the side. A cute habit of yours, Taerae noted, but he could still see the tiredness in your eyes.

Pulling his eyes away from you towards the looming downpour, he was almost convinced. He hesitated because he just wanted to make sure you were okay and would get home as soon as possible as well.

“Okay. But make sure to hurry once you’re done, okay? And don’t get rained on.” Taerae said while slipping on his denim jacket.

You nodded confirming his words and promising to get home as soon as possible, “The rain will be done once I’m off, I promise.” You smiled.

“Okay, weather fairy, I’ll see you at home.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek and got ready to leave, the next occupant of the table already making his way towards the empty space.

*

It had in fact not stopped raining by the time you had cleaned the espresso machine and wiped down most of the tables. Hanbin and Chaehyun had left a few minutes ago, running towards the subway station, in the spare moments the rain had eased up a bit, leaving you to lock up alone. Now the rain was back to its full power, slamming onto the pavement, windows, cars, and soon you as well. You were afraid the small umbrella you found in the back of the locker room would not do much to keep you dry and warm on the short walk to Taerae’s apartment, but it had to be better than nothing.

The storm was just about to regain its entire might when you left the safety of your workplace. Turning the keys, you felt the cold wind hit your exhausted legs, sending shivers up your whole body, and sending more than a few leaves on their journey towards the ground prematurely. You cursed at yourself for thinking that late-summer-thunderstorms carried the warmth, that mid-summer-ones did. Struggling to keep the umbrella upright, you wrapped the bright blue zip-up sweater you had stolen from Taerae’s closet closer over your body. If there had been any more wind, you were sure would have been blown away.

In fact, you had been so busy trying to not take off, you barely noticed a figure hurrying in your direction.

An out of breath Taerae appeared in the far distance, his silhouette not only blurred by the rain, but also the impressive velocity of his figure running towards you. In Taerae’s hand you could make out another one of his hoodies and a definitely more sturdy-looking umbrella, more than big enough to fit the two of you.

His cheeks and nose were red, even more so due to the red fabric of the umbrella, but mainly because of the unexpected cool temperatures. Taerae hadn’t been home long when he had decided to come and get you once the café closed. A decision he now noted as more than smart, having witnessed you almost fly away like Mary Poppins.

He couldn’t help the smile as he pulled you towards himself, underneath the little shelter his umbrella offered “So, this is where my favourite sweatshirt has gone to.” He pointed towards the fabric currently keeping your body just a degree away from a shiver.

Unfortunately, you had been right about your umbrella being bad at its job, the sweatshirt now thoroughly soaked, “Sorry,” You smiled innocently, “But hey, at least it’s clean now.”

Taerae shook his head, granting you refuge and additional warmth underneath his arm as he wrapped it around your body, pulling you as close as he could, “You could have texted you know?” he whispered in your ear, barely audible over the rain continuously slamming onto the thin fabric above the two of you. 

“I thought my equipment would suffice,” you confessed, although you knew your umbrella would have been unlikely to hold up to this kind of weather, “I’m sorry you had to come out to rescue me.”

“It’s what I’m here for, no? Serenating and rescuing.” Taerae smiled, his hair curling itself back to its natural state, “University student and professional busker by day, personal saviour and superhero of Y/N by night.”

You chuckled; he really was your hero.

*

Finally inside and in dry clothes, you let yourself fall onto Taerae’s couch. As soon as your body touched the soft fabric, the sleepiness started to set in. Between the bustle of work and the adventure of running through the rain with Taerae, your body had gone from low battery to out of it completely. The only thing missing right now was your boyfriend, who was making instant noodles and a cup of tea for the both of you, insisting that you had made enough beverages today to last a lifetime, and you couldn’t agree more.

The day had been so long, and just an hour ago you had wished for nothing more than for time to pass by more quickly, but now that you had actually had time to spend with Taerae, you willed the clock to slow down for a bit.

Now in the warmth of Taerae’s apartment, you didn’t mind the weather at all; The rain was still going, tapping onto the windows nonstop, and flooding the streets outside without doubt, but what did it matter to you now that you were able to rest with your favourite person in the entire world.

Speak of the devil; Taerae set down the bowl of instant noodles in front of, followed shortly by a glass of water and a cup tea.

“That looks so good, I could kiss you right now.” You smiled looking at food in front of you.

“Do it then.” Taerae turned his head towards you, expectantly waiting on the kiss you had promised.

You placed a quick peck onto the smiling boy and then started to slurp down your meal. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you so happy. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you, period. Not counting the café this afternoon, of course, but it really had been a while since the two of you had hung out alone like this. And Taerae would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed you. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been stressed out of your mind this past week. Just like you would be lying if you said you weren’t tired right now. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed Taerae too.

“It was a really hard day today, huh?” Taerae’s voice was laced with worry, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want to worry him, there really wasn’t anything for him to worry about, he was helping as much as he could without worrying.

“It was okay,” you answered, a little too quiet for Taerae’s liking, “I’m just glad I won’t be in charge anymore next week.”

While Taerae believed that the majority of what you said was true, he wouldn’t have you downplaying your feelings like that. He sighed, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Y/N, you know? I’m here to help. I want to know when you’re stressed or feel bad or hurt.”

In the past few months that you and Taerae had been dating, it was made obvious on more than one occasion that your boyfriend’s love language was acts of service. Be it to drive you to your favourite bookstore, or to get you some medicine when you were sick. Taerae loved to just do things for you.

You smiled at your sweet boyfriend, your heart overflowing once again, “I know, it’s just… I can do this on my own. I don’t want to worry you.” You nodded to yourself, feeling a little exposed.

“I get that, but the thing is, you don’t have to,” Taerae took your hand in his, “That’s what it’s like when you love someone; I want to share the hurt and the burden and the stress. I want to do it for you, and I want you to do it for me,” his smile was faint, his eyebrows scrunched up slightly, “I’d rather worry with you, than worry for you.”

You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve someone like Taerae. Smiling you leaned into his side, resting your head into the crook of his neck, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

He kissed the top of your head as a response, triggering the warm and fuzzy feeling once again.

“Hey,” you whispered against his body, “I love you.”

Taerae hugged you tighter, engulfing you in all his warmth; the rain so loud against the window, the wind so strong, the building howled its tune, his words so soft they warmed you up from inside, “And I love you.”

4. so let’s love

Being in love was harder than you could have ever imagined. It was also simply more than what you could have ever thought it would be. It was more difficult, more intense, more complicated. But the more you felt it, the deeper, the stronger your feelings got for Taerae the more aware you got of your need for him.

Everything Taerae felt with you was new to him as well. In the past, Taerae had never had a problem figuring out how he felt, and he surely didn’t have any problems expressing his emotions. For Taerae, music had always been the easiest, most natural way to communicate. It was what brought him the most precious things in life: a purpose and you. But lately, it was difficult for him to encompass his love for you through actions or music. And he had a feeling he would struggle his entire life to put this into words.

*

The leaves had long turned brown, the weather had long switched from sunshine to frost, and Taerae had once more found his way home from a long day of classes, and an even longer week of not seeing you. Lately, he had felt something shift between the two of you, and he felt difficulty to raise the issue, to talk it out. He even felt difficulty to play it out, to sing it out, to just let his frustrations flow.

Of course, Taerae knew that couples fought. He knew it was normal for lovers to throw hurtful things at each other’s heads from time to time. He could list more than 10 songs that captured this exact feeling of defeat, when one hurts the person, they love the most. It was his hyperawareness of this fact, that made it all the more difficult to ignore the fact that you just did not fight.

It was not like the two of you would not have reason for conflict, but it always seemed like whenever the two of you were close to fighting, you shut down. Your passiveness got a hold of you, and you logged out of Taerae’s life until you were ready to forget about the reason you would have fought anyway. Whether or not you reflected and decided it wasn’t as big as a deal as it seemed at first, or if you just ignored the hurt, Taerae didn’t know.

What he did know however was, that this could not be healthy. Neither for you, nor for him. He refused to lose the love of his life over something such as the lack of fighting. All Taerae wanted was to love you. He wanted all that there is to a relationship, the love, the fights, the forgiving. He didn’t need perfect; he didn’t want perfect.

He was sure of his feelings for you, he had been for the longest time. Maybe he did love you more than you did him, but that didn’t even matter to Taerae. He was just worried, he’d lose you. He was so confident in his own love, he became insecure of yours.

So, on this day, on his way home from university, on his way to you, he thought about how maybe, he just wasn’t worth enough for you to fight with him. Maybe it wasn’t that you didn’t like to fight, maybe it was that he just wasn’t worth fighting with. And for the first time, these kinds of Taerae’s feelings made sense.

*

From the beginning of your relationship, you had been determined to give Taerae your whole heart. You wanted nothing more than to love the sweet boy to your heart’s full capacity. And the more you got to know him, the more your heart’s ability to do so grew. And with that your fear of losing him.

In your entire life, you had not really fought with anybody, ever. Of course, there had been disagreements and discussions, but most of the time you hadn’t deemed the topics worth fighting over. You had also had relationships before, none as serious as the one with Taerae, and they mostly ended amicably. Definitely nothing like any Olivia Rodrigo song. You intended to keep the number of break-ups you had had the same, although you knew realistically, the number of fights had to go up at some point, but thus far even disagreements with Taerae hadn’t proven annoying enough to fight over. All you wanted to do is love him.

You didn’t want to fight with him, or to worry him, or to hurt him. You just wanted to love Taerae.

So, on the day the temperatures had dropped as well as all the leaves, and Taerae used the spare keys you had given him to let himself into your apartment, to cook together, the last thing you had expected was to fight.

One look, out of the window and you saw the blanket of grey and white that threatened (or promised) to spill the first snow of the season. You had been waiting for Taerae to come home for some time now and had been working on some university assignments until the all too familiar jingle of keys announced his arrival. The first thing you heard right after the sound of the soft thump Taerae’s guitar case made when he set it down, was a sigh. And only then did you realize just how stressful the past month had been for the both of you. You and Taerae were both drowning in assignments and projects and that meant you spent the majority of your time in the library, as he did in the studio. It had been hard for you with work and university to find time to just be together, especially with a lot occupying both of your minds.

Communicating had never been your forte and you found it even harder to discuss your worries when the time you had together was so scarce. Taerae had been good at voicing his feelings and telling you when he was stressed but in the past days, he seemed a little closed off as well, so this sigh seemed to be a giveaway.

Still, worries aside a soft smile rested on your lips as he entered the kitchen, the table currently occupied by books and sheets of paper, your own little chaos ruling over the space.

“Looks intense,” Taerae chuckled as he made his way to you.

“It’s even worse than this looks in here,” you motioned with your finger to your head as you closed your laptop shut, standing up to hug your boyfriend hello.

Taerae kissed your cheek, taking in your scent. He noticed the hints of coffee scent in your hair, an indicator that you had worked the morning shift. He didn’t know you had worked today. You used to share your work schedule with him at the beginning of the week. Taerae knew you weren’t obligated to share your schedule with him, he wasn’t possessive like that, but just stopping to do so, irked him in some kind of way.

“You okay?” you asked as Taerae was staring off into space, and you grabbed a bottle of water.

“Yeah,” one look at you and he knew you didn’t believe a single word he just said, “it’s just the usual. Creative pressure and such.”

You cocked your head, the way you always did when processing things, thinking of what to say, “You sure that’s the only reason? You kind of seem a little off the past few days.”

He knew you didn’t mean it like an accusation. He knew that doing this, fighting, on grounds of you asking if there was anything else wrong was ridiculous. But Taerae also supposed it was as good a reason as any. Still, he didn’t mean the words to come out quite as harsh as they did.

“Yeah? You mean like how you don’t even tell me when you work these days anymore? Or what assignments you’re working on? Who you’re working on them with?”

One look and Taerae realized you were clearly taken aback by what he had said. Or how he had said it.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had to approve my schedule. I don’t mean to keep it secret Taerae, but I’m not talking about schedules or shifts, or even university. Something’s clearly bothering you.” Your brows were scrunched up and arms crossed.

Taerae scoffed silently, “Why…” he tried to gather the words in his head, to make them seem a little less ridiculous than they were, “Why won’t you fight with me?”

“Huh?” now you were taken aback. “Why won’t I fight with you? Maybe because there’s nothing to fight about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you get annoyed when I stay in the studio for too long and don’t text you when I know you’re waiting for dinner plans or something. And I - I get annoyed when you just brush things off, but you always apologize even if there’s nothing to apologize for. Sometimes– Sometimes I just want to be annoyed with you and you should be annoyed with me as well for being annoyed.”

You frowned, what he said was true, even if you weren’t sure he was making sense 100%. In any case, these things just seemed inconsequential. Whenever stuff like that occurred you had been more worried than annoyed, sad maybe, but definitely not mad.

“What do you mean? I just don’t think these things are worth fighting over.”

Taerae closed his eyes, in the way he did when he couldn’t get the right chord combination, in the way he did to coordinate his thoughts, in the way he did just before letting go of a frustrated breath.

“See? This is what I mean. I just- It just feels like that to you I’m not worth fighting with.”

Now there was hurt on your face. Taerae didn’t mean to twist your words but it just, that is what it sounded like to him. This is what it felt like to him.

“I- That’s not what I said at all, Taerae,” Your tone had also changed. It was more straight forward, more matter-of-factly. Yet your eyes seemed desperate to just clarify this situation, so, you searched in his for some sort of doubt of his last statement, “You know that that’s not true, right?”

“I don’t know! It seems like it if I’m being honest,” his voice was just below a shout. Although it definitely didn’t seem angry, it was just as desperate as the look in your eyes. He tried to understand you, the way you tried to understand him, “It feels like whatever I do, whether it’s good or bad it doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course, it matters. Taerae, you matter, so much!” You tried to hold the eye contact, but your emotions seemed to overflow, making it impossible to think and talk, but you tried anyways, “I am sorry, and don’t get me wrong, this is not me not wanting to fight right now, I’m just trying to understand- to make you understand; Never has anything you did not affected me. Be it negative or positive. I know we’ve talked about it but- you know I’m still learning, right? I just- I don’t want my feelings to be a bother to you. I don’t want me to be a reason for you to not do something. I just- I simply want to be a support for you. I don’t want you to have to worry about me and my feelings too, because I just- I so confidently want you. I just want to love you, Taerae.”

He looked at you, and you looked at him as you continued.

“Never did I mean to hurt you by not fighting with you. If you want to fight then okay, let’s fight. Let’s scream at each other and hurt each other, but I just- I just want to be able to love you through it all.”

You didn’t realize you had started to cry. And Taerae hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see you cry. So, all he did was pull you close and engulf you in a hug.

“Okay. I’m sorry, too.” He was afraid of letting you go, as the thoughts raced through his head, as he tried to turn back time. He cursed himself for not realizing how much it sucked to fight. How much it sucked to hurt the person you love the most. “Okay, let’s love, okay?”

So, when the first snow began to fall, as it covered the rooftops and bare trees like sugar did pancakes, and a peacefulness settled after the first fight, you and Taerae decided to love each other, but also fight with each other, and cry and laugh with each other, and hurt and forgive each other. The both of you just prayed that you wouldn’t lose each other.  

5. i loved you

An unexpectedly cold spring night put you in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

One would think that at the end of April the temperatures would somewhat rise above 10 degrees, but to your disappointment, they had even dropped below zero. You didn’t know what had come over the city to still be as freezing as it was, but you couldn’t help but think it was your heart that had conjured up the unexpected mid-spring-ice-age.

The temperature wasn’t the only thing that made it difficult for you to get out of bed. It was also a simple lack of anything warm in your life. So, on the morning of this especially chilly spring day, you rummaged through your closet to find one of your warmest sweaters, to try and keep your body from going into hypothermia on your way to your opening shift at the café. Trying to distract you from the shivering even inside your apartment, you thought about the workday ahead, and what spices you would throw into your free morning coffee, when your hand grazed over what felt like your warmest, snuggest sweater. Satisfied with the choice, you grabbed onto the thick fabric and pulled it out, but not without a few other items falling out of your closet in the process.

Cursing at your own messiness, you at first didn’t notice that the sweater you had pulled out, was in fact, not one of your own. You had even been so distracted by the mess that was now on your bedroom floor, that you pulled the sweater over your still with sleepiness marked head, and diligently threw the stray items into the closet, shutting the door before they could fall out once again.

Only when you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, did you realize what you had just slipped onto your body. Comforted by the familiarity of the striped sweater, but startled by the memories it brought back. The scent of its owner still hung heavy in its fibre. You stopped to look at yourself in such a familiar, yet strange item of clothing.

If anyone had told you two months ago that it’d feel strange to wear Taerae’s hoodie in April you would have thought it would have been because of the warm weather, and not because Taerae had broken up with you just a couple of weeks before.

The fabric felt now heavy on your shoulders, and you sensed an all too familiar weight drop a little heavier onto your chest. You had done your best to go back to the life you had known before, but in the past two weeks you had been semi successful in achieving that: More than once had your co-workers caught you staring off into space, your gaze unintentionally fixed upon any busker in front of the café, your eyes even fixated on the spot when nobody was playing. With a gentle tap to your shoulder, Hanbin had brought you back to your task of making espresso shots, a routine that felt almost too easy to get distracted from.

You were well aware that you had had a life before Taerae. You just didn’t know you would have one after Taerae. In all honesty, you had hoped you wouldn’t have.

The most tragic part was, Taerae just hadn’t given you the closure one would need after getting broken up with by the love of their lives. He hadn’t really given you any explanation at all. Nothing more than a lot off bullshit, and a just-because. It was easy for most people in your life to go from loving to hating him, but even with the lack of sympathy for your situation, you found it difficult.

You had tried to hate him, you had tried to resent him even, but nothing had proven effective enough to erase your love for him. Taerae had been engraved into your bones. And now he expected you to just move on?

*

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. At least that’s what you told yourself, that’s what you told your friends who were asking why the two of you broke up. Coming up with more than absurd reason of why you should have known, when in reality you simply couldn’t have. Because even in hindsight, you never could have seen it coming.

So, on the evening of, when Taerae had told you things weren’t working for him anymore, his face straight and not showing any emotion, not showing his signature smile, or even a tear; On the evening of, when you had begged Taerae to just tell you what you had to change, what it was you had done wrong and that you would fix them, if only he’d stay; On the evening of, when even after you had cried and shouted, he just took his guitar case and left; On the evening of the break up, you hadn’t gotten an answer. And neither had you in the two weeks since.

In fact, you had not seen Taerae at all. Or heard from him, not even through friends or social media. You wondered if he was okay, if he really was as unbothered as he had seemed, even though it was unnatural for him to act the way he did. You had always deemed Taerae a gentle person, but the way he ended things, was just so unlike him. So, he had to be not okay as well, right?

The lack of answers made you do something you had never had to do before, which was speculate and wonder. Taerae had always worn his heart on his sleeve and expressed himself so diligently most of the time, if not through words, surely, he would have done so through music. So, speculating about how he must feel now, was something you had never had to do. But now you caught yourself wondering all the time. You wondered how many things he thought about before the thought of you popped into his head. You speculated what the songs he was composing these days sounded like. Were they about you?

Either way, there was no hiding from him. Not for you, not just yet.

His presence, the imprint he had left on you followed you everywhere you went. The grocery store, the library, the café. Everywhere the memories of Taerae loomed over you. You wanted to forget him, so much to the point you had seriously considered hypnosis, if that was thing. It was like you could not, not consider him. He was so engraved in your brain; he was so engraved in your everything. You weren’t sure how to erase him from your everything, you weren’t sur how to erase him from anything. You weren’t sure you actually wanted to.

Still, the hurt you had felt the first few days was overwhelming, you couldn’t eat or sleep or do anything much other than run on autopilot. It had become so bad, that some of the regular customers noticed. It was almost like all life had been sucked out of you, and in a sense it had been; A possible future life had been taken from you. A future you had hoped for ever since you had met Taerae. A future you now grieved.

So, now looking at yourself in the mirror, the striped sweater hanging from your body, keeping it warm, felt like a glimpse of what if. A glimpse of Taerae. A glimpse of the person you had been when you were with him. A person you could have been, but never would.

For a second you wondered again, Taerae well established in your mind. But in the end, it didn’t matter. There was no use wondering and retracing everything you did during the last few days of your relationship. There was no use, because you did everything you said you would: You had loved Taerae, you loved him still, with your heart’s full capacity. Over the months you had fought and made up and hurt each other and forgiven the hurt. But now none of it mattered, so you might as well try and forget, instead of dwell and grieve.

So, with a swift motion you stripped the sweater off your body, exposing yourself once more to cold of the spring morning that had even seeped through the walls of your apartment. The frost making itself known in the form of icy crystals on your window. You didn’t look for another sweater, you wanted to feel the cold.

You weren’t sure what you had done wrong. But still, you knew more than you didn’t. You knew there was nothing you could do. You knew you would hurt for some time still. You knew you would see Taerae in buskers, guitars, and iced tea. You knew you would hear him in Hi-Hellos and the jingle of keys. You knew you loved him, and you knew it’d be a long time before you stopped.

So, for now you’d try to forget.

6. you were beautiful

There was a hum in the air, a melody that made its way through the busy streets of the city. The warm weather had finally decided to stay, and it stuck to the cement like chewing gum, barely cooling down overnight.

Taerae had kept himself busy over the past month, not really wanting to slow down, but with graduation coming up, also not really being able to do so. For him there had barely been any time to just stroll around, or go to cafes with his friends, or to simply just think; These days Taerae still didn’t really knew how to function normally, how to function like he did before you. Of course, he still had to perform, write, and produce music for university, but he rarely went out to busk or did these things for joy like he used to. It was something outsiders could have never noticed; How Taerae did everything but nothing at the same time. Only the people close to him, could tell something was up. They knew of the break-up of course, but they could only guess why exactly it happened in the first place.

In any case, it was evident that Taerae had closed himself off. He didn’t really talk to any of his friends about it, and neither did his songs show any reflection of what he felt. They hadn’t become bad, they were just cliché. Some of his professors even pointed out the shift in his lyrical style. But there was nothing Taerae could do; he was both too busy and exhausted to deal with his feelings.

Walking around in the area by his apartment was one of the only times Taerae consciously searched for some down time, to sort out at least some of his thoughts. Of course, he was cautious not to stray too close to your workplace, more for his own sake than yours. As of now, Taerae wasn’t sure how his heart would react if he was to come face to face with you unexpectedly. Ever since he had decided to break it off with you, he had barely fathomed to hold a single thought about you. He simply couldn’t conjure up enough courage to deal with his own heart break. So, up until now, pushing everything away would have had to do the trick.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had ticked off his thought process to recall the day of the professor-student conversation. Maybe it was the undeniable sense of Deja-vu he felt when he spotted a young busker, surrounded by only a small group of people, who were all listening carefully to the boy’s song. Maybe it was the girl listening, who from the back looked exactly like the one he loved. It could have been either of these two or another altogether, but in any case, Taerae knew, that maybe it was time to face this inevitable heart ache, even if just for the duration of this walk.

*

At the beginning of each semester, music and music production majors are required to sit down with one of their supervising professors, to discuss projects for the upcoming term. Most of these conversations were easy going, and the projects subject to change, but the conversation at the start of the second semester senior year was one equally feared and anticipated.

The senior project for music and music production majors was basically the making of an entire album, with full creative freedom. Taerae had been more than excited to get started on it, in fact, he had been so eager that the songs for his album were ready for recording as soon as his supervising professor approved of them.

So, yes, Taerae was a tad bit nervous entering the professor’s office. But he was generally well-liked and so were his songs, so he was sure this meeting would go over smoothly, and he would have to do nothing more than to put in a reservation to one of the student recording studios and was good to go.

And that was the case, partly.

Everything was going well; the professor praised his compositions and skills as a lyricist. The way he had described Taerae as someone to get across any type of feeling, made Taerae’s chest swell with pride. It wasn’t until the last few minutes of the meeting, when Taerae was supposed to thank the professor in front of him and get straight to work, that everything was pushed out of his rightful trajectory.

Taerae was about to get up out of the chair he had been sitting in somewhat tensely, when the professor said something, that in hindsight, put as many things into perspective as it pushed out of it. At least for Taerae.

“This girl must be quite the experience for you as a song writer.”

“Excuse me?” Taerae had said then, distraught, and genuinely confused.

The professor had then proceeded to explain how certain people, certain experiences, determined the colours of the artists in any art form. And that you, were certainly one of these experiences that would influence Taerae a great deal, even once the next experience would come into his life.

Looking back now, Taerae wasn’t sure why he had taken what his professor said so to heart. He definitely didn’t think of you as an experience. He didn’t think of you as something temporary at all. He didn’t think that there was any more evolving for him to be done, Taerae would have been good writing songs about you for the rest of his life.

But was this how the world perceived you? As an experience? Did he, through his songs somehow reduce you to something less than what you were, something temporary, something to live through and then move on?

From this point on Taerae couldn’t help but spiral in his self-doubt. Doubt for his love for you, and doubt for his skill of song writing. Thinking back on statements his friends had made, like how they would also write songs as good as Taerae’s if they had a Y/N in their lives, only confirmed his insecurities in his own love for you. Taerae somehow had gotten way into his head about it.

In Taerae’s mind it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to make you an experience in his life. It wasn’t fair, when all you did was give, when you read his every thought and tried so hard to be better and learned with the mistakes you made, learned to love Taerae even more.

Taerae remembered that you had said you wanted nothing more than to love Taerae for the rest of your life, that he was your person. And all Taerae had done was make you an experience.

*

Lost in thought, a sigh heavy on his lips, Taerae hadn’t noticed the young woman listening to the busker turn around. She hadn’t yet looked at him, instead she was gushing about the music to the friend who had just joined her. Had the other joined the young woman any earlier, Taerae would have known in an instant that it was in fact you: the pink hair of your best friend and co-worker a dead giveaway. The two of you a duo Taerae found difficulty in separating, even during the days of you dating.

Chaehyun was whispering something in your ear, which made you laugh a little louder than you had anticipated, a hand coming to cover your mouth as you snickered in slight embarrassment. More than once had Taerae witnessed an interaction similar to this one, and looking at you now, made his heart ache with longing.

But he understood that that was something he wouldn’t be able to see again. He knew that he couldn’t really love you the way you deserved to be loved, so he wouldn’t try.

In the past, Taerae had always felt he was good at expressing himself. You had always promised him to get better at things, to learn the love Taerae needed. Without missing a day, you had told him you loved him. Sometimes first thing in the morning, sometimes it was the last thing he heard when he fell asleep. You had always thought of Taerae first, he had been the most important thing in your life, and Taerae had been well aware of this fact, you had told him more than once. Yet you still didn’t put pressure on the young man, you waited patiently on him in every sense. Maybe Taerae hadn’t been so good at expressing his feelings, maybe you had been the one very aware of your own feelings along.  

Watching you from afar, he wondered if you thought of him as much as he did of you. He wondered if everything the two of you had been, was something of the past to you, or if everything, if he, was still present in your life, if he still was something you had to consider, even if it was just to avoid him successfully.

*

The warm wind grazed over you, as it did Taerae, sending your hair flying in its direction. Your head turned towards the young man standing more than a few metres away from you, gaze fixed upon you. It took you some time to remember to not stretch out your arm and wave at him in greeting. It took you even longer to remember not to make your way towards the boy to greet him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

It also took some time for Taerae to not expect any of this from happening; looking at you now, you were a stranger he still loved.

But looking at him now, you realized he was a stranger you once loved. And thus, a small smile made its way onto your face as you turned away, interlocking your arms with your friend, and walking off into the direction of your workplace.

*

To Taerae it had always been interesting how people forgot, once it was over, once it was done. But Taerae would never forget what it was like to love you. He would never forget what it was like to be loved by you. How it was beautiful, how you were beautiful. Taerae would aways remember, he could simply never forget. Maybe someday, he would be fortunate enough to remind you again.

yay!! you made it to the end!! i hope that you were able to enjoy it despite the somewhat sad ending!! thank you again for reading and i’d love to hear your thoughts on it!! love youuuu

this piece was written by @yourstruleejn so please don’t post on any other platforms or translate into any other languages! thank u !!!

[xbomboi]

YOU 🤝 ME

SCREENWRITING

Could you possibly elaborate more on your EQ movies?? I'm really interested in this Cove Sunset... 👀

oh yeah actually i would love to talk more about that! so basically i wrote two movies intended to be the penultimate and the final installment in the Equestria Girls series since that’s definitely never going to get an official ending. i wanted to tie up loose ends…

i made a poster for the second one of the two that i made a few years back right here. but anyway…

the first of the two is called “Royal Nightmare.” the premise is as follows: it’s now spring of the girls’ senior year, and rarity has made the decision to run for queen of the spring fling after being robbed by sunset she tried to run for princess years ago. but when rarity gets possessed by dark magic, sunset has to confront her repressed baggage from the past if she wants to save her friend before it’s too late.

basically, this one deals a lot with sunset’s past with rarity. the film has a mix of the events taking place in the present day as well as flashbacks to the past, being the girls’ freshman year. it covers stuff like sunset arriving for the first time, her meeting flash, how she rose to power, and what she did to rarity (i changed it up just a tad because the junior novelization is a Weird book). it also has a lot of focus on rarijack as well.

the other one, intended as a finale movie, is titled “Forever Friendship.” after finally graduating from canterlot high, the girls are about to move onto the next stages in each of their lives. however, sunset still has unfinished business in regards to herself. together, the girls set out on one last adventure to uncover the truth behind sunset’s family and the sunset from their world. but could this be end?

this one is basically, like, giving sunset closure. in it i explore sunset’s origin and the truth about the Other sunset shimmer. it has an entire conflict that revolves around a discussion of the moral dilemma that comes with having magic in the human world. at heart it’s about sunset finding her purpose once and for all. i can’t say much else without spoiling it.

royal nightmare is complete in THEORY but needs a lot of, like, extra fleshing out and possibly the addition of a few more scenes. also, forever friendship is now missing a song or two because i removed one scene entirely and instead repurposed the song for royal nightmare. also ALSO, they’re a bit old now and i approached them differently than i did when writing for ever after high. i wasn’t totally thinking about completely matching the tone and more about cinematics. it’s not that i bumped the ratings up, but i let dialogue be lengthy and… idk, nuanced? i guess? more so in forever friendship than royal nightmare, at least. and there’s probably an occasional typo in them both.

i would share them, but the thing that makes me hesitant is the fact that for the songs, i made an unlisted youtube playlist of myself singing them each just for people who read them to have reference when the scenes pop up. it wasn’t so embarrassing when it was just being shared between myself and my friends, but the audio is kinda bad and there’s no music it’s just me singing. i didn’t even have the same range as i wanted for some of the songs or the characters so i sound wonky in it. and i can’t redo it now because i’m older and my voice has dropped so that’s a no-go.

idk, maybe i could give in with enough convincing.

[stayandot8]

(y)Our World

Genre: angst turned fluff

Relationship type: sort of exes, later reunited

Important Contents: starts with reader going through the motions of life, not really present

a/n: Here's the part two I didn't think I was going to write. Thank you to the ones who asked for it, I think this ending is definitely better. 😚

tagging @minnysproutgriffinteddy and @whyyougottadothatbro because they were the ones who asked. I hope this lives up to your expectations. 😂 I wrote with you in mind. Also wanted to tag @binnies-minsung-fanclub @bangtanmix73 and @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna because they told me they wanted to be tagged when I wrote this part since they helped me with the idea. So. There you go. 🩵

WC: 2.3k

part one l masterlist

Days passed, each end of our communication silent. They passed slowly for me, not ready to admit to myself what I thought I knew to be true. Every day the same thing: open my eyes, check my phone for any sign of life or wanting to talk from Chris, realize with a sunken heart there was nothing, drudge through the day and act like my life wasn’t emptier than before I had met him. The sun didn’t shine. Literally. It rained all week long, the grass was flooded and the water was starting to impede the streets for cars to drive down. And even more dreadful to walk through on my way to work, the only thing keeping me from falling completely apart. 

Closing up shop for the day, I locked up the doors and sighed at the constant rain I was so tired of staring at through my bedroom window. The smell of the rain was the only good thing about it. I started my walk back to my apartment when I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. I stopped dead in my tracks, heart starting to race. Was it him, finally reaching out? I slowly reached back for it, bracing myself for what it might say. I kept my eyes up as I brought the bright screen to my eyes, still trying to calm my heartbeat until I noticed the icon that popped up; the calendar icon. I rolled my eyes at the initial glance, at the hope that still was forced to the forefront. I hope that will fade one day… 

Upon further reading, my heart dropped to my stomach. It was a reminder for the Stray Kids concert happening tonight that Chan had gotten me tickets for. I could see the ticket and the pass in my mind’s eye laying on my kitchen counter, waiting for me. I still care about them. Maybe I’ll go to support the rest of them, at least. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste… And I didn’t. He had gotten the pass specifically because I had asked. His face had lit up like a kid on Christmas when I told him I wanted to go to a concert. 

“Really?! You want to see us?! Okay, I’ll call our manager right now and get you the best seat he can find. Oh, it’s going to be so great! I can’t wait!” He ran off after kissing me full on the mouth to make that phone call. I later got texts from the other seven members, telling me how excited they were that I would be attending. I couldn’t let them down. At least that was what I told myself as I got to my apartment, got dressed in some dark jeans and a Stray Kids t-shirt that would let me blend in with the rest of the assumed crowd. It still smelled like him. I stole it from him and he claimed not to notice when I wore it around him. ‘It looks better on you anyways’ he had said. So I kept it, another little piece of him to keep with me wherever I took it. That was when it hit me.

I was going to see him again and he didn’t know I was coming. I could watch him and gauge how I felt when I saw him, able to delve into that mixture of whatever sadness and longing I was feeling and judge for good if I truly wanted to let him go. The thought alone was causing bouts of nausea, having to let him go but I would do it if I couldn’t bear it. 

Following the crowd of excited people through the arena, I couldn’t help feeling the buzz throughout the entire place. Lines of people waiting for merchandise, lines waiting to get food in the different areas. The excitement was palpable, fluttering through the conversations of different fans squealing over their favorite boy, boys I knew personally and would be able to text and all as I wanted. I knew then how much that would mean to the people around me. Different signs were carried under the arms of so many fans, saying things like ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors! Loser blows a kiss’ and so many funny cartoons and drawings of things the boys had done. Each of them made my heart warm just a little more, thawing out the ice that had formed. They had created such a community that anyone was welcome, little did they know who truly walked amongst them. 

I needed help from the venue staff to find my seat, near the back of the floor and off to the side. I would be able to see them, but it would be difficult for them to see me. The perfect spot. Especially now. The video started to play as everyone else found their seats, the screams of excitement going from a dull roar to piercing the eardrums of everyone in the singular room as the circular contraption on the ceiling started to lower.

***

Watching him only proved he loved what he did. And that I loved him for it. 

Whatever I was feeling before the music started playing was irrelevant as the eight of them started performing, I was entranced by the collective unit they performed as. Even when they broke off to do their own individual interactions with fans. But what really hit me was one specific part with Seungmin. Chris, Minho, Jeongin, and him were all doing their individual songs, waiting for the others to come back. And Seungmin broke into a familiar melody. 

One touch and you got me stoned

Higher than I’ve ever known

You call the shots and I follow

A shadow came over Chris’s face as he recognized the familiar tune. I introduced this song to him when I was trying to tell him I loved him without truly saying the words out loud to his face. But his next few words felt like a stone was dropped straight on my head. 

Your touch blurred my vision

It’s your world and I’m just in it

Even sober, I’m not thinking straight

I felt my lip quiver as the memory came back to me, the feeling behind the next line.

‘Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you.

As the crowd cheered, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I had been doing that a lot lately. I was surprised I had any tears left. The realization dawned on me, suddenly so clear and bright like a star finally breaking through the clouds I had been stuck under. I loved him. And that would never change. He gave me no reason to believe he had ever chosen me out of pity or from any other reason besides pure love. He chose me. Me. of everyone he knew, everyone who had loved him, he chose me. It was my turn to choose him. I had to tell him. 

The show ended, people all around me rushing to get back to the merch lines. I stayed in my seat, my new resolution settling into my bones, eager to use my pass to get backstage to see him and the others. It took close to half an hour but the seats finally cleared out, the stage crew clearing out their equipment to pack up. I showed my pass hanging around my neck to anyone who gave me a quizzical look, then directed me where I should go. Down a few hallways until I heard Changbin’s unmistakable shouting. I paused outside the room they came from to send my usual post-performance text, knowing this one would come as a shock to him. 

Me: Tell Seungmin next time he needs a song suggestion to hop out of my playlist. That was mean in the best way.

I waited with bated breath as my text was sent, listening for the only voice that mattered to me. A clammer of more voices then a shout, saying the words I wanted to hear but not from the voice I expected. No, it was Han’s that pierced my ears.

“CHAN-HYUNG!!! WHERE IS CHAN-HYUNG!! SHE TEXTED YOU!!” A smile broke out on my face as I listened to the scrambling on shoes and scattered voices as they searched for him, the excitement around the room made my hands tingle. I leaned against the wall further down the hall, content to wait here until he came looking. I didn’t have to wait long. 

“She came?! Where is she?! IS SHE HERE?!” I heard my name being shouted, which made me chuckle for the first time in days. More scuffling, then the door directly down the hall to my left flung open so hard it banged into the wall. Chan came bursting from the room, his head turned the wrong direction. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he finally saw me. He froze, his hands falling to his sides limp. His shirt was half on and his pants were unbuttoned, as if he had come straight out to find me. He wasn’t wearing shoes. I didn’t wait to point this ridiculous fact out to him. 

“Chan, you’re not wearing any shoes.” He stayed in place, unmoving and not speaking. I leaned off my trusty wall and tried to move closer, slowly so I wouldn’t spook him. His eyes followed me as I got as close as I dared. He blinked furiously, as if he didn’t believe what his eyes were telling his brain was in front of him. 

Han poked his head out of the doorway, doing as he normally did and interjecting. 

“Oh, PLEASE just make up already. He has been MOPING around the apartment for DAYS like he’s been forced to kick a puppy.” Everyone looked to Seungmin out of instinct, who was coming down the hallway buried in his phone and paying no attention to the chaos he caused. Yeah, that sounded about right. “Or a ghost.” Han’s voice brought us back. “Hey! You two!” His finger rapidly ping-ponged between us, turning into a blur. It stopped in my direction first. “You love him? You love HIM?” My eyes cast down to Chan’s bare feet and back up to his eyes as I nodded. Han nodded in knowing confirmation then turned his finger to Chan’s face. “You know you love her. I know you love her. Now go kiss her before Felix does. Because he’s dying to kiss SOMEBODY and if he gives me those eyes one more time, I won’t be able to resist.” Han sauntered off to find the aforementioned blonde, his lips already puckered. “YONGBOKKIE! I’M COMING TO FIND YOOOUUUUU!!”

Han’s words lingered in the hallway, the silence tangible. Everyone had magically found somewhere else to be, the usual management team all seemingly hiding in one room or the other. Han’s distant yelling fell further away, neither Chan nor me able to look at the other just yet. He, as usual, was the first to speak, shuffling his feet as he drew closer.

“You love me?” His voice was barely over a whisper. The lack of amusement in his tone was not lost on me. So I answered the only way I knew: honestly. 

“Can’t imagine the day I won’t.” He was silent, a shy smile finally gracing his features. He sighed. 

“Seungmin heard me listening to that song on repeat for the last week. I’ll kill him later because it caught me off guard. I didn’t know you would be here but I'm glad you were. I hoped you would be.” He finally met my eyes again, now two feet from me, within reaching distance. There was nothing I wanted more than to have those arms around me again, craving how his body heat would melt every icicle that formed in every crevice since I left his apartment. 

“I should’ve told you that day you left. I don’t want anyone else. I never-” I took my opportunity to step into him, raising a finger to his lips. His arms raised to encircle me out of instinct, his hands hesitant to grasp me like normal. 

“I never should have said those things. I was so stupid, I let all of my own thoughts get in the way of the one thing I lost sight of. The one fact I never should have let slip.” He kissed the finger on his lips before I moved it to his cheek, ready to catch the water cresting his eyes. I looked from one beautiful eye to the other, his patient smile for me and only me. “I love you, Chris. I am in love with you. You could say ‘off my face’ in love with you.” That earned a true laugh from him, his eyes briefly closing before opening them again, drowning me in that pool of warmth. My hand moved from his cheek to his neck, nudging him closer to me. He didn’t need much suggestion.

His lips melted into mine, accepting my surrender of the moment to him. Everything I had needed, everything I missed was all in that kiss. I had lost where I was, I didn’t care what day it was, what was happening around me. The only thing that mattered was that I had him back. That was until we heard more shouting and yelling as we were both encircled by the rest of Stray kids, all cheering and crying out in what I assumed was joy. 

“You were all listening? Can anyone have any privacy around here? You’re all so nosy!” I buried my face in Chan’s shirt to hide my laughter. His chest rumbled with his own as he held me tighter. 

“Okay, okay, everyone go get changed and we’ll go out to eat okay?” I felt his hand release me to wave off his members. They left one by one, each arguing over where they wanted to eat. When we were alone again, our eyes met again as spontaneous smiles broke out on each of our faces. He kissed me again before he whispered, just quiet enough for me to hear.

“See? I told you. It’s not my world without you in it.”

[fanhackers]

How To Be Gay, by David M. Halperin

While there are obvious fan studies classics, there are other books that don’t always fall into the “fan studies” canon that I have found incredibly useful for my own thinking.  I cited one of them, Carol Dyhouse’s  Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire (2017), a few posts ago; another is David Halperin’s How To Be Gay (2012)

How To Be Gay came out of a course Halperin taught at the University of Michigan, whose full title was “How to Be Gay: Male Homosexuality and Initiation.”  The initiation in question was not sexual, but cultural:  Halperin believes that there are not only gay texts, a gay canon of sorts, but also gay ways of reading that are taught and learned and that help constitute something we might call a gay subjectivity (that you don’t have to be gay actually to have):  e.g. Hollywood movies, opera, Broadway musicals, camp, diva worship, drag, muscle culture, style, fashion, interior design. Halperin asked both why this set of things–why musicals? why this diva or that–and what do they tell us about gay experience? Halperin was trying to trace “gay men’s characteristic relation to mainstream culture,” which often involves collaborative and camp appropriation: a queering.

I find this book very useful, both because fandom also has its own shared languages and rites of initiation (consider the idea of watching something with fannish goggles or slash goggles or a fanfic lens, as was recently discussed in a previous post; think about all the languages and tropes and artistic structures we all learn from each other) but also because Halperin talks about modes of identification that aren’t representational or based obviously in identity politics. So, for example, he says that the gay male students in his class were more likely to express themselves vis a vis a shared text like  The Golden Girls than vis a vis the traditions of what Halperin calls “good gay writing.” There is, Halperin argues, a queer pleasure in the Broadway musical that’s different than the pleasures of gay identity or even gay sex; similarly, queer female fans might find pleasures in identifying with, say, Sherlock, Crowley, or Blackbeard that are very different from the pleasures offered by a woman- or lesbian-centered text. 

Here’s an excerpt that gives a good sense of the book, I think: fans might identify with this or recognize it as descriptive of their own fannish feels.  (FWIW, the italics are all his!)

[H]omosexuality is not just a sexual orientation but a cultural orientation, a dedicated commitment to certain social or aesthetic values, an entire way of being.  That distinctively gay way of being, moreover, appears to be rooted in a particular queer way of feeling. And that queer way of feeling—that queer subjectivity—expresses itself through a peculiar, dissident way of relating to cultural objects (movies, songs, clothes, books, works of art) and cultural forms in general (art and architecture, opera and musical theater, pop and disco, style and fashion, emotion and language). As a cultural practice, male homosexuality involves a characteristic way of receiving, reinterpreting, and reusing mainstream culture, of decoding and recoding the heterosexual or heteronormative meanings already encoded in that culture, so that they come to function as vehicles of gay or queer meaning. It consists, as the critic John Clum says, in “a shared alternative reading of mainstream culture.” As a result, certain figures who are already prominent in the mass media become gay icons: they get taken up by gay men with a peculiar intensity that differs from their wider reception in the straight world. (That practice is so marked, and so widely acknowledged, that the National Portrait Gallery in London could organize an entire exhibition around the theme of Gay Icons in 2009.) And certain cultural forms, such as Broadway musicals or Hollywood melodramas, are similarly invested with a particular power and significance, attracting a disproportionate number of gay male fans. What this implies is that it is not enough for a man to be homosexual in order to be gay. Same-sex desire alone does not equal gayness. In order to be gay, a man has to learn to relate to the world around him in a distinctive way.  (p. 12 - 13)

–Francesca Coppa, Fanhackers volunteer

[puzzlebean]

Another request, a Lestappen fic where Max takes care of Charles after he gets injured.

Hiiii thank you so much for requesting this! I had so much fun writing it! 💗

Here it is:

It was stupid. So stupid that Charles can barely believe it happened. He just spun off and hit the wall during free practice. No one was near him and there were no issues with the car, Charles was apparently just really stupid and forgot how to drive and now his hands are broken and he might have a little concussion. His ego is the most bruised, though, and he's sulking about it. He doesn't get to drive anymore this weekend, or likely the next few, and the entire world just watched him being stupid. 

"Oh my god, Charles," Max says as he storms into Charles's hotel room and sits down next to him. "I came as soon as they let me go." 

Max is Charles's sometimes rival, sometimes friend and maybe boyfriend. Max also watched Charles being stupid. It's the worst. And yes Charles knows he's being a little dramatic but he feels like he has a right to in this situation. 

"Are you okay?" Max asks and then immediately stops, frowning a little. "No that was silly. You are, of course, not." 

"I think I will survive," Charles says, dramatically. 

"Oh Charles," Max says. "I will take care of you, of course. As much as I can. I think Christian will be a little upset if I don’t race." 

Charles points out that Christian will be more than a little upset if Max fails to race because he's looking after a competitor but inside he feels warm and fuzzy. Max wants to be with him, Max wants to look after him. 

Max gently kisses Charles cheek. Then he pats his thighs and stands up. "I'm going to order us food. And then I'm going to do whatever you need." 

Charles smiles as he listens to Max order too much food. Having him here helps already, even though Charles still feels like an idiot. 

Once Max has ordered the food, he fluffs up Charles's pillow and gets him to lay down. 

"Do you need any painkillers, sweetheart?" Max asks. 

Charles nods. The last dosage had been in the hospital. That was probably a while ago. 

"Where are they?" Max asks. 

"Andrea put them on the desk. Easy access he said," Charles replies. 

"Good," Max says. 

He walks to the bathroom, grabs a glass of water and then grabs the painkillers. He reads the box carefully and then pops out two pills. He hands the pills to Charles who pops them into his mouth and then hands him the water. Charles makes a face. 

"What's wrong?" Max asks, immediately worried. 

Charles pouts. "The pills taste gross." 

"I'm sorry," Max says. He presses a kiss against Charles's forehead. "You are being so brave." 

And the thing is, Charles knows that's not true. He's being silly and dramatic and wallowing in self-pity. That doesn't mean it's not good to hear, though. Especially from Max's lips. 

"Do you want to sleep before the food arrives?" Max asks. 

Charles shakes his head. "I just want to lie next to you and feel sorry for myself."

"Then that's what we will do," Max says easily. 

He gets on the bed, carefully so he doesn't bump against Charles. He lies down on Charles's good side so they can hold hands. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Max asks. 

"I was just stupid," Charles says, "so no." 

"I don't think you are stupid," Max says, "just unlucky. But, of course, if you do not want to talk about this we won't. I can talk about Jimmy and Sassy." 

"Please," Charles says. 

So Max gets into a passionate story about his cats and their antics and Charles is so fond of him. This man. God. To think they used to drive each other crazy, that they used to drive each other off the track and assumed they would always dislike each other. It's so different now. Now Max is the one person Charles always wants to be with. The person he loves, even though they haven't told each other that yet. 

When the food arrives Max helps Charles eat like it's no big deal. It makes the whole ordeal less awkward and embarrassing. It's like Max just knows exactly what Charles needs. 

"Thank you for this," Charles says. 

Max looks at him like he's being silly. "You are my boyfriend," he says. "Of course I take care of you." 

So not a maybe boyfriend, then. His actual boyfriend. Something good came out of this stupid crash after all. 

"I love you," Charles says. 

Max's face lights up. "I love you, too." 

He kisses Charles's lips. Charles is so lucky. He can't believe he gets to call this incredible man his. 

[deadpresidents]

What do you think is the best job to prepare someone for being president?

From everything I've read that former Presidents or people who worked in senior positions in various Administrations have written about the actual job of the Presidency, I don't think there really is anything to prepare someone for being President. If seems that many modern Presidents who took the job seriously and tried to govern in a normal, responsible manner were stunned by how big the job truly was once they got into it.

I think Governors tend to have a bit of an advantage compared to legislators because they were chief executives of their respective states and have a better sense of the structure of the job (on a much smaller scale), with their roles as administrator, commander-in-chief of military forces (Governors are commanders-in-chief of their state National Guard forces), with numerous executive departments reporting to them, etc. But it's still so much more intense than even the most populous states, and every President wants to hit the ground running on Inauguration Day, but they quickly discover that the world doesn't stop spinning just so they can get started. The problems that reach the President's desk usually tend to be those that everyone else has already tried to tackle without success and now the President is often the only person in the country -- and sometimes even the world -- who is left to make a decision about solving them. And those are the things that start popping up as soon as the President takes the oath of office, and they don't stop until the next person takes over.

I imagine that the best preparation for the modern Presidency is having a diverse collection of career -- and real-life -- experiences rather than a certain job. I know he was only a one-term President, but someone like George H.W. Bush probably had a much easier time settling into the job because he was a combat veteran as a fighter pilot in World War II, a businessman, Congressman, a diplomat, a CIA Director, and a two-term Vice President, than his son, George W. Bush or his successor, Bill Clinton, who were both Governors but relatively inexperienced outside of their careers in state politics.

In A Promised Land (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO), Barack Obama writes that one of the challenges about the Presidency is that "It wasn't simply that each decision I made was essentially a high-stakes wager; it was the fact that unlike in poker, where a player expects and can afford to lose a few big hands even on the way to a winning night, a single mishap could cost a life, and overwhelm -- both in the political press and in my own heart -- whatever broader objective I might have achieved."

It takes Presidents a while to understand that -- and some don't ever recognize it in time to get re-elected. They all have their own political ideologies and agendas and hopes and dreams, and when they are elected, they immediately start thinking about all of those things that they plan to do once they are inaugurated. But they also have to practically build and staff an entire branch of the federal government from the ground up-- particularly if they are succeeding an Administration from the opposing party -- in two months that can be ready to run the country from Day One. And then there is everything that is going on or might be going on or will be going on around the world. And they have a Legislative Branch and a Judicial Branch to work with, which will not necessarily be harmonious or even the least bit helpful. And in this century, we're also usually in the midst of at least one war (not to mention the military conflicts of other countries) or a dangerous national/international economic climate -- along with the damaged and rapidly changing actual climate. So, all of the President's plans and hopes and dreams and agendas start taking a backseat to everything else as soon as they raise their right hand and repeat the oath on January 20th. But they still have to accomplish what they set out to do. And if they DO accomplish it, they have to sell it to the country, so that everyone realizes that they actually DID accomplish something. And, again, all this starts the moment they take office and doesn't pause and doesn't end until they move out of the White House.

So, yeah, there's nothing to really get someone ready for that.