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#and also written out why the thing I’m afraid of isn’t the most likely outcome
wrongpublishing · 3 months
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Increase Your Literary Body Count in 2024
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by Mathew Gostelow.
"In my slut era," I whispered, sending the story out on its ninth simultaneous submission.
At the most recent count, I wrote 60-odd things in 2024 and submitted them a total of 202 times in all. 42 of them were published in some form. Along the way, I racked up 90 rejections. All in all, I published somewhere around 44,000 words in 2023.
I was whoring my stories all over, like some sort of village bike made of ink and shamelessness. I spent a year subbing sluttily. I had a blast doing it too. I got a fair few publications under my belt, made new friends, and learned some lessons as well. Here’s just a few of them…  
Change horses midstream
I’ve discovered I work best when I’m juggling multiple projects at once. It sounds counter-intuitive and I guess it might not work for everyone, but I reckon everyone should try it.
The idea is to have several stories on the go at one time. Three feels ideal. I find that I will inevitably run out of steam on a piece – my interest or focus always flags at some point. Switching to something new acts as a vital palate-cleanser. I’m able to return to each project afresh, bringing new energy and perspective thanks to the time I spent away.
Follow the fun 
Don't be afraid to mix it up. Move out of your comfort zone.
If your latest flash isn’t quite working, why not rewrite it as a poem? Or mash it together with another half-finished piece and see what happens. In a longer piece, it’s okay to jump straight to the scene that's exciting you in that moment. Fill in the gaps and the preamble later.
Try things out. Write flash, write microfiction, write a poem. Seen a shiny prompt? Go for it. Plunge into a genre that you'd normally avoid. You might have fun, you might learn something. You might even end up with a story worth submitting.
Lean into your weird
I'm not saying you're weird, but… you’re totally weird. The way you tell stories is uniquely yours. You understand the world through the filter of your own personal experiences. And you express those observations in wonderfully idiosyncratic ways. 
One thing this prolific year taught me is that I love my writing more when I delve into those quirky parts of me. It could be sharing an oddly-specific fear in a horror story, or playing with words in a way that feels pleasing and musical to me.
Putting those unusual parts of yourself out into the world can be scary, but it's also fun. And I've found that readers and editors seem to respond to it as well.
Sim-subbing is addictive - but tread carefully
Simultaneous submissions are great. Is that one mag taking a bit long to decide on whether they want you piece? Send it somewhere else. Feel those sweet endorphins coursing through your veins. Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.
Here’s what I learned from a year of very heavy simultaneous submissions: Send a piece out to as many places as you like – but only if you're equally happy with ever possible outcome. That’s the important bit.
If you have your heart set on a specific home for a story then for gawd’s sakes don't sub it anywhere else until they have decided. Otherwise you risk tying yourself in knots if/when one of the lesser mags accepts it before your dream publisher has decided.
Play fast and loose!
Themed calls are great. They can be inspiring, sparking fresh ideas in our minds. Or help us to see our existing stories in a new light. But here’s what I learned this year: don’t be afraid to come at the theme from an obtuse angle.
Editors must get tired of reading 50 different permutations of the same story. Your off-kilter take could be just the breath of fresh air they're looking for.
And if you have a story already written when a call comes along and it feels like it's close-ish to what they're looking for, then you should throw it in the mix. What have you got to lose?
A true story from this year:
I had a story accepted after misunderstanding what a themed call was all about. I didn’t read the instructions carefully enough and subbed the wrong thing. I realised immediately after pulling the trigger and considered withdrawing my piece. For some reason, though, I didn't. (Slut era!) The editors saw something in my story and accepted the piece.
Moral: Don’t slavishly follow the theme. Go crazy.
Dilute the sting
Rejections can hurt, especially if you have your sights set on a specific magazine or anthology. But you know what helps? Rebound sex. Er… I mean, rebound submissions. Get that same piece back out there. Heck, send it to two places. Go crazy. You get closure by moving on. Also, the more you submit, the more rejection notches you get on your bedpost. And you know what, after a while you’ll find it starts to sting a lot less. 
So there you go. Lessons from a promiscuous wordmonger. Why not try to up your literary body count in 2024? You might like it. Repeat after me: “Slut era”.
Mathew Gostelow (he/him) is the author of two collections; See My Breath Dance Ghostly, a book of speculative short stories (Alien Buddha Press) and Connections, a flash fiction chapbook (Naked Cat Publishing). He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best Microfiction. @MatGost
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legionofpotatoes · 2 years
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So I saw your post about kenobi and skimmed it because it’s 5 am for me and my body isn’t tired but my mind is? Ya know the feeling?
And you, and the other person mentioned how it felt meandering, and how the characters don’t face conflict so much as they avoid it.
(Again I skimmed the post so you could have said this but my mind is now tripping over itself to get these thoughts out.)
Everything feels meandering and wheel skinny because introducing conflict would force the characters to change, and they either don’t know how to do that, are afraid to do that, or literally can’t do that.
Star Wars is what, 40 years old? Forty years means a lot of fans, forty years also means a lot of content. (Even though Disney reworked the canon after purchasing Lucas films)
The problem is, they can’t figure out (or just straight up can’t) write conflict for the characters and situations because all of these things are happening in between major events that have already been put to screen with characters that are integral to those major events.
Mando season 1 worked better then season two (in my opinion) in part because, while it was taking place in the Star Wars universe it wasn’t about Star Wars™️
Mando had nothing to do with the rise or fall of the empire, yodito may have been the same species as yoda and could use the force but the questions about him weren’t completely tied up in Jedi/Order 66 stuff.
Season one of The Mandalorian had room to breathe
That’s the biggest problem with Star Wars I feel, they’re too scared to stray from the time of the originals and the prequels, and the most recent sequels only made that fear worse.
Of the 5 Star Wars movies released in the past 10 years, 3 were well received, and only one of those was part of the sequel trilogy. Of the other two, one was the lead up to A New Hope and the other was Solo.
So from that, people in charge are more willing to back stories that take place in the time frame of just before the prequels to just after the original trilogy. Because when they strayed from that time frame they failed miserably.
The failures had nothing to do with the events they chose to show.
Thirty-forty some odd years after the first fall of the Empire, we’ve got a Darth Vader fan boy running things, and we’re shoved right into the life of a born and raised storm trooper questioning everything he’s ever known.
This could have worked wonderfully! How did the New Republic fall? Why is the Darth Vader stan in charge? How did he get there?
It could have been great is what I’m saying.
But (allegedly) JJ Abrahams didn’t have the trilogy planned out before filming, so fan opinion had much larger sway over the story than if the trilogy had already been written and approved. Top that off with Disney/Marvel’s spoiler sniper culture? (< I lost track of this last sentence but it felt vry important)
The sequels failed because the writing was poor and the characters felt inconsistent, like they were being directed by a young child who can’t fully articulate what they want yet. Not because the story itself was inherently bad.
Where was I going with this….
RIGHT! Kenobi, Andor, BoBF, (I hope Mando season 3 gets back to season one mentality at least) and maybe Ashoka are all going to feel somewhat meandering because they are literally being written in a corner. There aren’t many stakes and those that do exist feel cheap because we already know the outcome.
It’s time to let this part of Star Wars History become History is what I’m saying. Because at this rate it’s turning into a visual version of Les Mis meets Tolkien and if that doesn’t scare you at least a little bit then idk what else to say
My whole problem is the entirely subjective and unfortunate reality that I love star wars. For me that's the crux of it. Of course stories without conflict and change are by-and-large meaningless, of course the current framework of their slate facilitates that approach, and of course it all has to burn. I get all that, truly, I echo it through and through. I just can't help but love the fable of it all as well, and have hope that they figure a way forward to keep expounding on it. Having seen both the best and the worst of the saga's storytelling instincts rear their heads and dictate the flow of the franchise over the last decade, however, has seriously pounded at that hope.
But I also kinda refuse to believe that having to work within canon bookends is an inherently limiting factor? I don't like looking at that as an absolute excuse, more of a challenge. Storytelling is a game of conflicts and resolutions, packing character change through meaningful drama, meaningful drama being clear stakes where you can follow along and pinpoint the points of tension exactly - so you know where to look for levity or catharses, instead of being in a constantly reactive state due to a vague series events, periodically going "I guess this is what we're feeling now" cause nothing is clear enough to follow and anticipate.
It really should be super-duper-simple. Clarity is just everything in writing for film (or TV, I guess). Like if your main hero isn't an engaging or dynamic character - or cannot afford to be due to X Y Z - I don't know, pull a fury road. focus on satellite arcs that inform a small choice by the end. any little thing can be meaningfully dramatized and turned into an interesting story. It just requires finesse and craft, doubly so under the eye of massive corporate oversight. It's not a skill one can really demand from filmmakers, but for star wars? I've seen it aced a couple of times, so I'm needy.
That is exactly why I look at Kenobi as more of a complex failure, both in structural and storytelling terms. Six episodes of tirespinning leading up to the one character change we already know will happen shouldn't be the end goal, it should be the foundational narrative that affords a lot more nuance as it goes along and maybe manages a couple of cathartic rugpulls. Like the satellite arcs I mentioned. Seemingly what they're going for with Reva, right? But even her psychology isn't fully clear and is mysteryboxed for some future revelation almost exactly like Kenobi's is. This story could instead be a fierce crucible of change from her POV as she works within the complicated moral framework of the empire, her own baggage, and the distrust of her team; but all of those potential points of tension are sprinkled on top like cherry flavors, popping up when convenient, never lingering as bedrocks of storytelling, never fully coalescing into her journey to paint a clear picture of what she really wants. And it drives me insane that people consider this more interesting than just telling us her fucking deal from the get-go and then giving her something challenging to face. But that requires craft, finesse in writing, the courage to give clarity to drama. It's all difficult to get into. My knowledge on this topic is limited, but I know very well the type of grammar I gravitate towards in filmmaking and this all rages against it. And I refuse to believe canon is sufficient excuse for it. because I love star wars :(
And as I - and you also - mentioned, the episodic movies and their response dictating how this all came to pass, are, yeah, also a big ole factor - a core failing, primarily executive. Gun to my head I won't breach this topic on a public tumblr, but I do strongly think that two key releases informed and shifted the entire pipeline of SW projects due to their storytelling instincts, feasibility, and fandom response. In diametrically opposite ways. In ways that were counter to everything I love about star wars. Which, as always, is by and large why the ordeal makes me sad and want to rant in the first place.
It's not entirely unfair to say most of this is, hilariously, on me.
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I guess the thing about the Loki show, and the whole reason I’m feeling equal parts excitement and something very much akin to terror, is like... [cut for length, not spoilers, because there are no spoilers in this post, just me trying to talk about something that might very well be kind of silly to begin with, I don’t know--and it’s also not actually negativity about the show, just me being worried about things and trying to work out what I’m afraid of, so there’s that too]
look, I love this character. I love this character a lot, probably more than any other character ever. I’m not sure if it would be totally accurate to say Loki’s my special interest, but it’s also...not inaccurate, you know? he’s has been my favorite character for about a decade, for a lot of mostly very personal reasons, and in that time I’ve assembled a pretty massive collection of Loki stuff, met a lot of wonderful people, found stunning fanart, and read an enormous amount of mostly incredible fanfic--but more importantly I’ve written a lot of fanfic, way more than what I’ve actually finished and posted. all that creative work is hugely important to me for a lot of different reasons, and it’s all heavily dependent on an understanding of Loki’s characterization that I’ve developed over--again--almost an entire decade of films, fic, meta, discussions with other fans, and a lot of just...thought and time and caring. I’ve put an enormous amount of myself into my attachment to this character, to be perfectly honest, nearly as much as if I’d created him from scratch myself.
and the thing is, I guess, I’m afraid to lose that. because my emotional investment into all of this is mine, and so it matters to me.
I don’t think it’s...particularly likely that the show will, say, so heavily retcon Loki’s characterization that it retroactively ruins everything for me and I can’t bring myself to return to my many, many WIPs (which would also mean I would stop writing almost entirely, at least for a while, because Loki fic is virtually all I write), or even that it’ll show me a Loki I still like but who is so different from the concept of the character I’ve built up that I just feel stupid about...everything, to much the same effect. for starters the other films will all still be there, with everything that built my concept of Loki’s character, and I have issues with automatically assuming I must be wrong if someone else has a strong opinion that contradicts mine but I also think it’s completely possible for people to arrive at multiple, equally valid interpretations of a text by engaging with it in good faith.
more likely is that I’ll be bummed if the show doesn’t hit on some things I really want and disappointed the more it pursues stuff I actively don’t want, but chances are very good I’ll end up liking most of it. might well even get inspired, by the show itself or by the fan response (as long as I can avoid most of the discourse, I guess). I will, probably, find ways to reconcile things I don’t like with existing canon and my almost-decade-long understanding of Loki’s character. I probably won’t lose a character that means a lot to me, and the show probably won’t be a reason to lose friends I’ve made through the fandom.
but. well. it’s not super fun knowing that it’s possible, you know?
I mean, shit, anything’s possible, I could die in a car accident two days from now on my way to the grocery store or something. but I could also lose something intangible that means a lot to me, and that’s an upsetting possibility.
anyway. I could make a disclaimer here about how this is probably all very silly and I’m putting way too much emotional investment into a dumb superhero canon, except that would also go against a lot of things I firmly believe about how much stories matter as a general principle and a universally human experience, and also I'm trying to stop feeling guilty/ashamed about completely harmless stuff, so I’m...going to try not to do that any more than I already have, and I’m going to go to bed and tomorrow I’ll get a much better idea of, I don’t know, where things stand.
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hugespace · 3 years
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Therapy helps rhett realize that all of those "I'm dead" UFC moves were actually just a way to fulfill his need for physical intimacy at a time in his life where he didn't feel it was acceptable to ask for it, especially from another man. Now that they're both adults and completely different people than they were in college, rhett decides it's time to explain it all to link and let him know that he actually misses that physical contact with him.
It took me a really long while, but I finally finished this one! I really loved that prompt, so thank you so much for giving it to me, lovely Anon. I was initially going to write it as a platonic/romantic friendship kinda story, but it seems I'm determined to write a hundred different first kiss + feelings realisation scenarios, I simply enjoy those way too much.
*** 2,5K ***
Let me hold you
He’s done it again.
Not so long ago, Rhett promised himself not to bring it up in front of cameras or a microphone unless he talks it out with Link, privately.
Especially not as a joke.
And he’s failed already, he scolds himself short after the Ear Biscuits episode is recorded and they’re both out of the room, heading back towards their office.
He thinks he could have just omitted it, shouldn’t have mentioned anything. It simply wasn’t necessary to mull over it again, even with the topic of the episode revolving around their college experience. It wasn’t a big deal, he said it himself, countless times. Every time they talked about it on the show.
So, every time.
There’s never been a conversation in private about that incident or anything that preluded it, never in the absence of people to entertain, never not around at least one recording device. Because why would there be? It wasn’t a big deal. A funny story, s’all.
He’s also never been able to just let things go, though, and thanks to that inability, the lore of wrestling and the “I’m dead” move had to live on. It was an innocent story, a funny albeit embarrassing one – their unofficial brand after all, an easy misunderstanding and a fun little anecdote, not his carefully curated version of what happened, nor a watered-down one, not just a part of the entire story devoid of any feelings associated with it, not a big deal-! And most of all, not… true. Not true.
Rhett isn’t sure if Link has been consciously going along with that wordlessly agreed upon version of what their UFC phase looked like, repressing the truth behind it, or… simply never realised what it meant for Rhett and genuinely thought of it as a humorous yet insignificant part of their friendship in the past.
Most likely the third option, he has to assume. After all, why would Link attach any meaning to it? It’s not like anything actually ever happened, not outside of Rhett’s mind at least. Frankly, he himself went decades without understanding his own motivations, more than once confused by why the memories of wrestling with his friend and laying on top of him felt both shameful and deeply comforting. Why even long after they grew up, stopped being kids, and as a result retired all their UFC moves, the only way he could describe what he felt thinking about that time was longing.
Until therapy happened.
Just like with many different things in his life:
There was something in the darkness, and then therapy shone a light on it.
It was like there were countless situations he navigated solely on instinct, without paying much thought to the reasons behind why he acted a certain way, and once therapy equipped him with the ability to do so, he unearthed an entire deep layer of feelings and emotions that were always there. Just hidden, even from himself.
The wrestling being one of those things.
So, he thinks Link doesn’t know.
And he’s finally determined to change that.
Why now, when he’s had so many chances to talk to Link over the years ever since he started being more in touch with himself? He doesn’t really have an answer; it’s just that after talking about it with such levity again, after repeatedly making a joke out of it, it feels like he might explode if he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t confess to Link what it was really like. And most of all, it feels like the yearning has become stronger lately, and the conversation yet again playing it all off as them being young and silly only ignited it, made the flame inside of Rhett burn brighter, threatening to make his heart combust.
“I need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.” Rhett says easily once they’re in the office. It’s not an unsure statement or a nervous plea with words tumbling out of his mouth before he can lose his cool and change his mind. It would have been all that and more a couple of years ago, sure.
But he’s a different man now. He’s not afraid to tell the person who’s been with him for almost the entirety of his life what he feels.
Link, however. He does look unsure, a bit alarmed even, when he looks at Rhett and responds.
“Sure-? What is it? Do you wanna talk now?”
It’s just like him to worry. Run a hundred different scenarios in his head, most of them negative, trying to prepare himself for every possible outcome of a serious conversation before it even began. It’s an anxious survival instinct that makes Link resilient to even the worst that life has to offer and able to face it all head on. But right now, it’s nothing scary. Rhett doesn’t want his friend to be worried, so he quickly says as much.
“Don’t worry, s’not bad. Just something we talked about on the podcast today.” The blonde sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, hoping he appears to be as calm as he truly feels inside and that it might dissolve some of Link’s concern, still written all over his face.
The other man takes his place on the sofa and looks at him expectingly.
“Right. So-“ Rhett’s calmness doesn’t completely evaporate once Link gives him his full attention, but it’s suddenly laced with some nerves. “About the wrestling. You know, in college. And before that. And- Especially about my ‘I’m dead’ move. I’ve been thinking about it, and-“
“Rhett, I swear, if you made me sit down for a talk only to tell me you’d like to make it a part of our conflict resolution again, then ha-ha. Very funny. I’d like to go get myself some coffee now.” Link cuts him off with an unamused look in his eyes and almost makes a move to stand up.
Rhett is quicker though and grabs the brunette’s arm before he can really move, effectively making him stay in place.
“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying. Like, at all. I-“ He realises he’s still holding onto Link’s arm and instinctively wants to retract his hand, but that same feeling that led him to initiating this conversation in the first place makes him reconsider. “I’ve been thinking about what it all meant and why I did that, especially when we fought or you were angry with me, and-“
“Because we were young.” Link quickly answers what wasn’t even a question. “We had too much energy and neither of us really wanted to hurt the other by punching him or- or fighting in earnest. What else would it mean.”
“Link can you let me talk? I’m trying to say something important.” Rhett squeezes Link’s forearm. “So, as I was saying. I mostly did it when you were angry or I was feeling unsure, and I didn’t realise it back then, but- But I know now, that I just… needed reassurance. You know, physical contact.” He explains, looking straight into Link’s eyes and trying to interpret his reaction before it comes.
When nothing happens, and the brunette just stares back at him with a furrowed brow, he feels compelled to continue and elaborate.
“Like when people… hug after an argument-?” His brain almost challenges him to make a different comparison, presenting a parallel between laying half-naked on top of your best friend and another activity people often partake in to make up after a fight. But that’s not- It’s not what he’s trying to say. It’s not like that.
The face in front of him frowns in confusion, blue eyes squinting and mouth opening and closing again, only letting out a puff of air and no sound at first.
When Link finally responds, his voice is unsure, like he suspects that he’s not understanding something right. “Are you trying to tell me you wanted to hug me when we bickered, so you pushed me to the floor and laid on me till I was even angrier, instead…?”
That’s not fully what Rhett meant, but it’s close enough, so he nods.
“What the crap, Rhett-? You're not making any sense.”
“Okay, listen…” He decides to go for a different approach. “We still don’t hug after arguments. We never hug hello. I think I could count on my fingers how many times we’ve actually hugged each other as adults, outside of the show!”
“Yeah! That’s just not what we do! We’ve never done those things, it’s just not a part of our relationship- I still don’t know what you wanna tell me here Rhett.” Link throws his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation.
“I want it to be a thing we do, okay?! I always did, but I was afraid to ask for it so I just took what you could give me without talking about it. Can’t have actual intimacy? Make up a UFC thing so I can be close to you! Can’t hold you when I’ve made you mad? Better lay on top of you till you give up and have no choice but stop!” Rhett pauses to finally take a breath.
“That time that guy saw us- I’m sure you remember I stormed off right after-? I panicked, it was like him seeing us and thinking there was something else happening almost made feel like it was something else, and since I started it, it also felt like I wanted it to be something else. I got so angry at myself for even trying and I never did it again. I’m sure you remember that, too!” Words flow out of Rhett in a hurried and increasingly loud cascade, while Link’s eyes grow bigger and comprehension dawns on his face.
“I know how stupid it sounds. But you know how I was. We were well into our thirties when I still refused to get close to you. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, it was the opposite – I wanted it a lot, man.”
„But I thought...?” Link seems to be turning a thought over in his head. “I thought you just never liked it. That the wrestling thing was about you… asserting dominance. That’s what it felt like at least. Like you trying to act like an older brother or somethin’.”
“No- It was me wanting to be close to you and not knowing how to ask for it. My very convoluted way of expressing love, you could call it. And I’m sorry it took me-“
“What changed-? I mean, what made you wanna talk about it?” There’s urgency in Link’s voice when he cuts Rhett off.
“I… I realised I miss it. I told you, we still don’t really hug or get intimate, however that sounds, and I’m not gonna just topple you and pin you to the ground again. We’re too old for that. For once, I don’t think either my back or your shoulders would survive if we started wrestling every time I wanted to be affectionate. But also- We’re over forty, Link. What does it say about me if I can’t just ask a person I love and have loved for almost four decades to hold me when I need it and would resort to, well, aggression-? That’s not how it should work.”
Link ponders Rhett’s words for a few beats before opening his mouth again, only to let three breathy words escape. “You love me-?”
It seems like the wrong thing to focus on, Rhett just opened up to say he not only craves physical intimacy now, but also struggled with that same need when they were younger so badly, he had to invent an entire intricate system allowing him to be closer, and Link questions the one thing he knows already. Because of course he knows, Rhett’s said as much dozens of times, of course he loves him. But it appears he has to say it anyway, judging from the weird look in Link’s eyes.
“I do, of course I lo-“ The blonde begins, yet he doesn’t get a chance to finish and ask whether Link heard the other part of his confession at all, because at once, his mouth isn’t free to keep talking and there’s no air left in his lungs as the man who was just sitting right next to him plunges forward and collides with him, lips first.
Oh. Rhett manages to form one more coherent thought despite being startled and entirely taken aback. Link misunderstood. That’s why he got hung up on the love confession. That’s not what Rhett meant, that’s not what he was trying to say, it’s not like that-
He feels like he should clear things up as quickly as possible. Logically, he should be panicking, racking his brain for a way to straighten things up, to explain to Link that it wasn’t what he was trying to say without making things worse, without ruining everything and making his best friend feel miserable and embarrassed, until…
Until Rhett realises his body went rogue and started responding without his conscious decision, his lips are moving against the other man’s, one of his hands is cupping Link’s face, while the other strayed away and is caressing his back. And it feels like his heart is trying to break out of the ribcage with how hard it’s pounding in his chest, along with his stomach doing wild summersaults. And he’s not panicking, not at all. And it’s not a misunderstanding, how could it, when he loves Link with his entire soul, with his whole being- And exactly like that, it hits him. Starting this conversation, he thought he already understood everything, but he didn’t– there was still that last puzzle piece missing.
They come up for air, panting from the intensity of that first kiss, foreheads flush with each other. Rhett finishes the sentence he began before Link’s move changed everything. “Of course I love you.” He means it now, he means it exactly like Link took it and can’t comprehend how he didn’t think of it before, but it’s perfectly obvious now.
So he hugs Link. He encircles the man’s body with his long arms, squeezes, and holds him, feels his friend snuggle into him, nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, holding Rhett's larger body in return.
All he needed was ask for the closeness.
He asked, and he got it.
He got all he wanted and so much more.
So, so much.
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ash-callenreese · 3 years
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Hi there, I want to ask you if Yoshida ever said that Eiji married and had kids later on post-GoL. Source is this link
https://www.reddit.com/r/BananaFish/comments/jbru8q/beyond_garden_of_light/
Hii! I’m sorry for not answering right away, but I went looking for the interview in her book, which I recalled very vaguely. I also translated some of it, not the whole thing since it’s pretty long XD I also apologize for not getting the REBIRTH Guidebook interview, but I think this one was the most relevant, so here it is:
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Majima: Does Blanca know about Ash’s death?
Yoshida: He’ll find out sooner or later. I mean, he knows he’s gonna die someday. Since he chose to live that sort of life, it would certainly lead to this outcome, eventually. He might not know when, but it’d be sort of like, oh, so that’s how it is.
Majima: What places would Ash and Eiji visit, had they actually come to Japan?
Yoshida: There were many questions like this. Why do you want them to come to Japan this much? (laughs) Please delude your own selves.
Majima: Can he even enter Japan in the first place? (laughs)
Yoshida: He’s on the international wanted list. He’s a murderer.
Majima: He can’t leave the country, either, huh?
Yoshida: He’ll get caught by the Interpol.
Majima: Is Eiji good at cooking?
Yoshida: How should I know? (laughs)
Majima: At first, Ash ate it with a face that said it was unappetising, was it simply that Japanese food didn’t suit Ash’s taste? Or was Eiji bad at cooking?
Yoshida: Isn’t it both? Have I drawn such a scene to begin with? (laughs)
Majima: He might have gone to Shorter’s place to eat Chinese food. Maybe there wasn’t a lot of Japanese food? Well, is it okay to just answer with “how should I know” ?
Yoshida: That, how should I know?
(Everyone laughs)
Majima: So, I’ll move on to the next question. Hadn’t Ash died, what sort of job would he have?
Yoshida: Hadn’t Ash died…?
Majima: There are many hypotheses huh (laughs) also, what kind of life has Eiji been living since “The Garden of Light”? Has he become a permanent resident in the US? Does he have a partner?
Yoshida: Wouldn’t he have a normal life? Something like properly getting married, having children, and continuing to live as a photographer.
Majima: He was shown as a successful photographer in the extra story “The Garden of Light”, too.
Yoshida: He wouldn’t be able to leave New York.
Majima: What sort of pictures does he take?
Yoshida: People, I guess? Not natural landscapes, but people and the city. Going around taking pictures of men and women in New York, this kind of thing.
-
Yeah. It might not be too different from what that Reddit post had, but I felt more like she simply expects him to move on from that grieving stage. It’s not definite that he got married or had kids, but it’s how things would normally go. Yoshida does generally mention they weren’t a romantic pair after all, so even if Ash hadn’t died (and I’m sorry, I’m sure she’s just done with people saying this) would she even make them a couple? Seems unlikely. So considering that Ash wasn’t exactly supposed to live much anyway, their relationship went as far as it was supposed to go, according to Yoshida’s expectations.
I suppose Eiji does give off the vibe of a person who would eventually settle down with someone. Which would be lovely, hopefully he would be able to find someone he loves. But does one necessarily need a lover in order to find happiness? Is marriage and kids the only answer? Eiji helping out those in need suits him, and I could picture him finding happiness through that. So just as vague as Yoshida’s answers were for quite a few other questions, this one also came across as a supposition at best. I’m not at all opposed to Eiji getting married, it’s just that I don’t personally believe this should be taken as an absolute truth. Maybe it’s likely that he did but, you know? Who knows? As long as Yoshida doesn’t release a new work depicting Eiji’s married life after GoL (also unlikely), it’s up to you to imagine how he’s been living. (Aren’t there many people who unyieldingly believe that Ash is alive? Isn’t it fine?)
I’m sorry for always concluding my posts basically saying “you do you”, that’s just how I feel about most things XD if I were to give a straight forward answer to your question, I guess it’s “yeah Yoshida kinda said that, but then again, hasn’t Yoshida said all sort of contradicting things?” She might change her mind, she might have said it on a whim, she might just not care — didn’t she say “how should I know”? But this one answer regarding Eiji’s marriage and kids just feels hazy to me. The only thing that seemed pretty concrete is that Eiji is very strong, he’s always been. He was pure in a way that made him the strongest in the end, and that’s something Yoshida’s mentioned a few times (I’m not sure where, as I’ve read way too many interviews at this point…) Eiji also has a US permanent visa by the time he’s holding his exhibition, it’s written in “New York Sense”. And, finally, thank you so much for asking! I’m afraid I couldn’t give a proper answer, but I’d be happy if this helps even just a little…
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papers4me · 3 years
Text
Fruits Basket Manga Review, ch (92-93)
That was painful & so well-written! This analysis will focus on kyokyo mainly & faintly on her effect on kyo. Although, her story affects tohru’s life immensely, I won’t analyze tohru’s part & will wait until it’s a tohru’s chapter to use the knowledge of kyoko’s past to better read tohru’s mind & understand her decisions! Can’t wait! after all, that’s why I’ve read the manga to begin with!
-Kyoko’s Atonement:  (the weight of words):
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 Kyoko breaks down after she learns she’s expecting. Why? cuz she hurt her mom. The notion that “yeah my parents caused me emotional trauma & so I’mma hurt them as well” is toxic & burdening as it starts a cycle of pain. Kyoko was right. She had no idea how her mom felt seeing her rebel, or follow violence or hear her harsh words. I’m not cleansing the mom from guilt nor responsibility. I’m just saying since the mom’s pov is blocked from us, assuming shes similar to the dad is wrong. kyoko’s fear of being punished with a child similar to herself is genuine, realistic & refreshing to see expressed in anime! usually character like kyoko are cool & brave, but here she’s humanly weak & doubtful. LOVE IT!
Moreover, in furuba words weigh on ppl & have consequences. We see this with kyo. His dad destroyed him verbally with words “ not my fault, it’s yours” that kyo echoes back to yuki! meaning the consequences of the dad’s words cause harm to his wife, kyo & even yuki!. Kyo was tormented with his own words for long time & clung to them even more in order not to resort to suicide! “ not my fault, it’s the rat’s” . Words can crush you down so bad if you hear them from loved ones, & worse if you utter them back to other loved ones! here kyoko learned that just the mere thought of her future child echoing her words back to her would torment her to death! Excellent writing!
-Katsuya invented Furuba’s vision (Accepting weakness & moving on):
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The teachings of kyoko & tohru were really katsuya’s after all. I’m fne with that. These teachings are the core of Furuba’s vision. He tells kyoko to accept that she’s weak, afraid & doubtful. it’s okay. But gives her tools to move on. Your kid isn’t you. They’re an individual person. As parents all we can do is give love/hugs (sth kyoko’s parents didnt do), listen to them (sth yuki’s parents didnt do) & if they do sth wrong will explain it & teach them well (sth kyo’s parents didn’t do, his wrong deed was being born a cat spirit & he was hated for it with no explanation, mom gave lots of “fake” love & escaped by death, dad became a raging monster). Accepting weakness & moving on is what the cursed sohmnas needed to do to heal & what tohru taught them. Off course, tohru herself struggled to follow her own teachings & that’s amazingly realistic!
-Kyoko’s guilt (punishment brings ease):
Kyoko wanted to be punished so harsh for her husband’s death. The gossip got to her. She failed him as a life’s companion. Taking care of our loved ones is a duty we carry with much love & care. Them slipping away is perceived as us failing by none than ourselves. The thing is, death comes with no warning at times. It was his time to leave. Accepting it or not, wont bring him back, but accepting it will help kyoko deal with pain while not accepting will cause more pain for her & tohru.
One of the most painful things abt grief is that it’s personal. Life continues around you. Only you feel it.  “didn’t the world end when katsuya died”. No kyoko. Only you died emotionally. Only him died physically. Kyo once said “ mom why didn’t you kill me instead”. A different reaction to grief, guilt & pain, but same conclusion: neither katsuya nor kyo’s mom are coming back no matter how much pain kyo or kyoko felt.
Kyoko found ease in emotional death, neglecting & refusing life, punishing herself for staying after him.
kyo found ease in rage & blaming others as he his father did, later he’ll escape to emotional & physical slow death “ cat cage/confinement”.
tohru... found ease in pretending "I’m okay” & her mom is alive.. but not physically.. emotionally, so she’ll ignore the truth & live only for her.
Didn’t I say grief is harsh, weird & very very personal. It’s hard to explain, deal with & heal. The mere words of consolation hurt cuz the grieving ones dont want to accept loved one are really gone. Her dad’s harsh words cemented the “emotional death” that kyoko felt. I’m not needed. neither katsuya. nor parents in general. depression. misery. sadness. emptiness.
-The tv show helped to trigger kyoko’s desire to “meet” katsuya. She has already reached the conclusion that she isnt needed. So, the tv show with their words of the deceased wanting you to be happy. triggered her into misinterpreting the words as to mean her death NOT fuel her to live in his memory as intended.
- “Loosing your way first before finding your answer” is okay & so human!:
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Ironically..Tohru... was the person Kyoko was punishing NOT herself: By being emotionally dead, kyoko neglected her daughter. Her world shouldnt be just one person. There are others. Katsuya himself gave her a person to love. Tohru. Kyoko chose death & unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher thsn what kyoko faced. She was about to do, but was saved by a nameless child who reminded her of tohru. She chose wrong first but later saw her answer. Kyo chose death by accepting the confinement & he, too, unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher if he wasnt with her. He chose wrong first but later saw his answer. Off course kyo’s story is more developed & complicated as he dealt with bigger issues than just tohru & his answer wasn't just loving tohru alone but also loving himself & choosing to live for them both: himself & tohru.
-Kyo’s guilt is a concussion thought eating him alive:
Part of why kyo’s story was one of the most human & complex is due him loosing his way first, failing, repeating mistakes “ I always though that hurting ppl was the only thing I was good at, after all, isnt that why mom died?” Kyo’s nightmare being a conscious effect of hearing tohru’s talk abt “ videos & memories of loved ones” is 1000 times stronger & more human than a cliche effect of seeing a “ hat” & to revive a a blocked memory... What the hell!! truly disgusting how the emotional weigh is reduced for stupid cliche drama !!!!!! ..
Anyway, kyo actively & consciously wanted punishment .He was sure that kyoko blamed him” I wont forgive you” can only mean what it literally means. The purpose of the nightmare is to cause kyo to seek “ emotional death” like kyoko & to loose his path more. It is meant to prepare kyo to refuse tohru even more. Therefore, the pay off at the climax will be better & stronger.
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Reading kyo’s inner thoughts will never not be refreshing!!! Also, the slow burn is cooked on low , hot fire , so the pay off will be the most delicious there is!
Side Notes:
I’ve stated my feelings regarding the age gap between kyoko & katsuya in last chapter’s preview post. I’m done with it & won’t let it interfere with my analysis of kyoko nor tohru.
The idea of just being together as a fun hanging out activity without being bothered much of where reminds ms so much of kyo & tohru!! we see them being happy together in the anime in kazuma’s house, shigure’s rooftop, cooking pancake in the kitchen! I really like this domestic feel of romance! it contradicts the notion of expensive restaurant with the girl wearing a breathtaking dress to woo the guy for it to be utterly romantic as we see in movies, & other stories.
NGL, katsuya looked sexy waiting home.. damn it! >_<
I cried watching tohru between her parents, how they acted & how loved she was! T_T. it reminded me of my niece How her dad’s death affected her! She was the apple of his eyes.. T_T.
Tohru is indeed a rice ball! her dad gave her a masculine name while tohru is so feminine! his reasoning is “finding salty taste in sweet things make the taste better & stronger, kinda giving it a hidden flavour”, the rice ball has a pickle inside it & it’s what makes the taste so savory & delicious!
Grandpa’s “ chance meetings could lead to variety of outcomes, good or bad” YES! kyo/tohru/yuki meeting each other by chance. Fiction make it look weird, but trust me, real life has those by dozens!
“ i wonder how lost you’ll be, how much time you’ll need to get your answer”. He will screw up so bad, kyoko! it will be so good! one of the best screw up’s I’ve seen! so painful for him & tohru & amazingly written!
Kyo’s nightmare being connected to him remembering/dreaming of kyoko’s story is bigger effect than opening the ep with it & having the cause be sth that happened last ep, a week ago... the effect is NOT the same.
Momiji is so cute!!! did his curse break here or not yet? he seemed as tall as tohru.
Writing tohru worried abt kyo after seeing him pale is the tohru I know!! Not that stupid girl who watches the guy she loves have a panic attach in se3, ep6, then goes in ep 7...” dahhhh.. Jeez.. I duno why kyo is sleeping until now.. better laugh & make cute rice cakes” giggle giggle...That scene got me so furious even when I first saw it!! THIS IS NOT TOHRU! tohru cried for a stupid story that haru told abt puppets!! she’ll forget the person she challenges herself for is sick?! ugh!
I love seeing yuki & kyo chill & cool around each other.
Kyoko being fully dependent on katsuya can be a factor in her grief, but I’ve seen cases where both partners are independent but still be completely broken after the others’ death. Grief isn’t logical at all & is extremely personal.
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pregnant-piggy · 3 years
Text
Snowed in
Hermione Granger x reader
this is part of All I want for Christmas is fanfiction
this is written for @coffee--writes​ writing challenge
words: 2.1k
A/N: I love the snow, but sadly it rarely snows anymore where I live. I would absolutely not mind if I got snowed in with my crush and I would mind even less when it was Hermione
prompt: ‘Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?’ ‘It’s not that simple’
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It was dark when you woke up. But not dark because the sun hadn’t risen yet, you realised when you looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was dark because there was something covering the windows and it were not your curtains.
You stepped out of bed and immediately were greeted by an embrace of coldness. It felt like stepping into an ice bath on a hot day. Frantically searching for warm clothes, you hopped closer to the window on one leg, as the other was in the air trying to put your pants on. You pushed the curtains aside and saw nothing but snow.
The whole window was blocked by a layer of snow. The light barely came through the blockage, only through the spots where the layer of snow was thinner. Your bedroom was lit up only by a hazy, pale light.
You opened the window and watched the layer of snow slide down the glass and fall down on the snow on the ground. With a jolt you noticed that the snow was not really on the ground, but it had built up to halfway through the windows on the downstairs floor.
There was movement in the shadows on the snow and you realised that Hermione must have gotten up already. Quickly you closed your window and got dressed further, so you could go downstairs.
‘Good morning, y/n,’ Hermione said when you opened the door to the kitchen.
‘Morning,’ you mumbled back. You sat down at the table and reached for an apple.
‘We’re snowed in,’ Hermione said and she pointed at the windows behind her. The same kind of snow that had been covering your window, blocked half the windows. All you could see outside was the light grey sky and the tops of the white trees that stood at the edge of the garden.
You walked closer to the window and stood beside Hermione. You took a bite of the apple and stared outside. Hermione turned around to the window too and she stood with her shoulder against yours. Her body warmth brought the heat that you were so desperately trying to find this morning.
‘I don’t think we can go anywhere,’ Hermione said and you nodded slowly.
‘Yeah, no, the door must be frozen shut,’ you mumbled.
Hermione’s low hum, made your inside turn and you stepped away from her. Your fingers shut around the apple you were holding tightly and you took a deep breath.
‘Are you alright?’ Hermione asked worried and you flashed her a smile.
‘I’m fine, I just- I don’t know, I think I pulled a muscle when I stepped out of bed or something,’ you lied, rubbing your leg to make it more believable.
‘Can I feel? Because I had the same a while ago and I found a way to relieve the pressure on it…’ Hermione said and she came closer to you.
‘No!’ you quickly said and Hermione’s face cramped together at your loud voice. ‘No, I mean- I think I’m fine. I just… I’m going to put something warmer on, I’m cold.’
You left the kitchen swiftly and tried to ignore the sting in your chest that you got from being so mean to your friend. But you just had to. You were afraid that if you let her come close to you she would notice that there was more than just innocent platonic feelings on your side. The friendship you had with Hermione was one of the most cherished things you had and you didn’t want to lose it. The fear of losing her was bigger than the courage to confess.
In the safety of your bedroom you let out a loud sigh and dropped on your bed. You despised yourself for your behaviour. You wished there was a way to get rid of the feelings, but they only seemed to be getting more intense. Tears pooled in your eyes as you thought of the sad face of Hermione. You didn’t want to hurt her, but you also didn’t want to get hurt.
Maybe you fell asleep or maybe you just stared at the ceiling for a while but after some time Hermione knocked on your door and she came in. She sat down next to you and stroke your hair lovingly. You closed your eyes at the warm touch of her hand and for a moment you let yourself enjoy.
‘I’m sorry,’ you muttered and opened your eyes. Hermione was staring out of the window and you only saw one side of her face. She said nothing but you could see the glimmering of the tears in her eyes.
You sat up and wrapped your arm around her shoulders. She looked at you and smiled sadly. You pulled her close and rubbed circles on her back. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said. ‘The snow just stresses me out a little. We don’t know how long it will last. I shouldn’t have outed that on you, sorry.’
Hermione looked up at you and smiled more genuinely. She sniffed and you wiped the tears from her face, trying so hard to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You felt your cheeks growing hot and you hoped to all the spirits in the world that Hermione wouldn’t notice.
‘Come on, let’s go do something fun!’ Hermione said with a happy grin on her face.
* * * * *
The rest of the day you spent watching films and baking cookies with Hermione. It was nice to once do something without the stress of your normal daily life. It was for the first in a long time that you fully relaxed, though at all times still careful not to get too close or not to stare too long.
Over time you had learned how to suppress your feelings for your best friend. Day after day you had pushed them down, hidden them from everyone. There was no one who knew about your crush and no one who suspected anything. At least, that you knew of.
A day passes quickly when you do nothing. Before you knew it, it was after dinner and you were sitting on the couch under a blanket, staring mindlessly at the film that was playing on the TV. While the main character confessed his undying love for woman whose life he had saved, Hermione sighed happily next to you.
There was so little space between you two that you could feel the warmth radiating from her arm. A part of you wanted to get closer to her, but the other part of you wanted to be on the other side of the couch. You longed to hold her closer, but you feared she would notice. As your mind and heart were in battle you lost focus on the film and your surroundings. All you noticed was the warmth on the left side of your body and the angel and devil on your shoulders.
But the battle was stopped when Hermione put her head on your shoulder. As a reflex, that was the result of the inner battle, you pulled away. Hermione’s head shot back up and without thinking you got up from the couch and walked to the window.
There was someone in your head screaming at you, cursing you for your brute response, and that voice sounded an awful lot like your own voice. A shiver went through you and for a moment it seemed like you were going to break down just right there, like you would fall through the ice and drown in the cold water.
But a warm hand held you above the surface. Hermione’s soft hand on your shoulder was enough for you to hold yourself together. Or maybe she held you together.
‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Hermione whispered as she watched the snow.
You looked at her and hummed a response. The contours of her face were lit up by the light of the setting sun reflecting on the white snow outside. The lines of her face were as a golden thread spun around the beauty of her appearance.
Hermione’s eyes were still fixated on the snow outside as she spoke to you. ‘Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?’
Staring at your hands you swallowed. You should have known that she would eventually see through you.
‘It’s not that simple,’ you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds from the TV.
‘It is,’ Hermione said and she turned to you. She took your hands, forcing you to look up to her. ‘You make it more complicated than it is. Please tell me.’
You closed your eyes and shook your head. For a moment you felt like a small child, not knowing how to put your feelings to words. There was a fire inside you spitting words to your mouth, but they didn’t leave your lips.
‘I don’t know how to,’ you whispered. Your throat was squeezed shut by the tears that were threatening to fall. There was a lump in your stomach but you knew that if there was ever a moment you had to confess, this was it.
‘Take your time,’ Hermione said and you took a deep breath. Her hands were rubbing up and down your arms softly and when the first tear fell she was quick to wipe it away.
It was now or nothing and you decided to throw it all out in the simplest way possible. You feared for the outcome, but this was what eventually would give you peace.
‘I love you.’
With closed eyes you listened to the silence that followed after. The music from the TV at the subtitles of the film was the only sound that was in the room. You couldn’t even hear Hermione’s breathing and you were pretty sure you had stopped breathing yourself too.
The hands on your arms had stopped moving and the fingers were drilling into your skin. The warmth from them had disappeared and your arms grew numb the longer the silence lasted. You didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid that you would be faced with your worst nightmare. You couldn’t lose Hermione, you just couldn’t, but now you feared that you had messed it all up.
After what felt like hours there were more sounds in the room. Hermione’s breathing got deeper and you could hear your own breathing too. The warmth from her hands got back on your skin and sparkles were sent throughout your entire body.
‘I love you too.’
All the dark wall around you collapsed and you stood in the clouds. The sun was shining brightly on your face, warming up your entire body. The beams fell on your cheeks like soft hands caressing your skin.
Before you had opened your eyes you felt two soft lips brushing over yours, forming a smile as your hands found Hermione’s hips. Her hands went from your arms to behind your neck and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips to yours.
It wasn’t fireworks, it wasn’t electricity or sparkles but it was ethereal. It was the softest silk and the most velvety clouds. It had the taste of cherries and rosé wine, the scent of peony roses. It was a kiss in the sky, above the tops of the highest trees and passed the mountaintops. It was higher than the clouds, in the pink light of the setting sun.
It felt like all your dreams had come true and for a moment there wasn’t any fear anymore. Hermione and you were all that mattered in that moment, nothing more, nothing less. A bubble of protection and trust was built around you and there was nothing that could burst it.
As you pulled away you could only smile. Hermione’s plump lips smiled back at you and you wished that this moment would stay forever, that the time would stand still and nothing had to change.
There was so much that you wanted to ask, but all that passed your lips was a content sigh that was answered with another kiss. Hermione’s hands raked through your hair and your fingers squeezed her hips lightly. One tap of her tongue against your lips was enough for you to open your mouth more. The divine feeling rushed through you in waves, knocking you off your feet further with every second that passed. It felt like your legs would bail on you, but you didn’t care.
Hermione would be there to catch you.
- - - - - - - 
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longlivefeedback · 3 years
Note
I spent three months working on my fic. The art is also amazing. And just 7 kudos. Shortly after, a fic appeared, that was literally a copy of MY fic and badly written, and just 1000 words, and this fic have more kudos now. I really want to cry
I’m sorry Anon. This may sound like impossible advice and is really just random words from a stranger on the internet that doesn’t know anything about you, but the best thing I would encourage you to do is to stop comparing your worth to others.
We live in a world of numbers where “value” is measured by views, likes, clicks, and any other metric companies can think up and put on a UI. In a world of Instagram influencers, Big Name Fans, and the Twitter-famous, we’re being told that bigger is better, more likes means more love, and the more interactions you have, the more important you are.
Do not do this with your writing. I get it. The AO3 stats are Right There. Front and center. Unignorable. Writing is lonely. It feels like screaming into the void, and after all that work, surely someone will give you the validation you deserve, right? After all, that other writer and their work got it. So why not me?
It’s not wrong to want that, Anon. It’s not wrong to love and share and want that love reciprocated. I would argue that it is very very human, and a very beautiful thing that you are reaching out, labouring over something you love, putting a bit (a lot) of yourself out there, hoping for some of that love back.
But as long as you’re always looking over your shoulder, always wondering why them and not you, why do they have more more more, why why why...you’re never going to be happy. And if this is the situation you find yourself in with your writing, I’m afraid that it will destroy your love of writing.
I’ve seen it happen. Writers turning bitter. They get angry. They get disappointed. They start asking questions. “Why can’t readers comment?” “Why don’t readers say anything?” “How do I get more kudos/comments/hits?” And sometimes they stop writing. They stop doing the thing they love. They stop creating. Why write and post when no one is going to appreciate it?
There’s really only one person whose answer matters: You.
When it comes down to it, You, the author, are the only person that should matter. How do you feel about your writing? Did you tell the story you wanted to tell? What did you learn?
No one is going to love your story more than you. No one knows your story better than you. No one knows the bits that made it in, and the bits that didn’t. No one really knows which parts you struggled with, which one caused you the most tears, which ones you’re the most proud of because it was so hard for you to write.
Every time I see a fic I’m in awe. Because it’s a labor of love. It’s something someone tried, something someone wanted to do, regardless of the writer’s skill, experience, or English proficiency. It’s something someone created, for fun or as a way to heal. It’s part of them and their own personal journey in this funny thing we call life. It’s something they decided to spend what precious time we all have in this world on and it’s what they’ll leave behind. It’s beautiful because it exists and You made it. And if you are the only one who sees and appreciates that. So be it. It’s your writing. It’s a bit of you. Will you really be happy if everyone else loves it except you?
So find your reason to write. Try not to let it be something that is dependent on things you cannot control and the numbers attached to it. Aren’t you a little tired of being constantly measured, compared, and criticized because what you did isn’t big enough or loved enough or good enough? Why can’t the pure act of writing just be enough?
If you’re still reading this and are thinking to yourself, “easier said than done” or “it’s all very well for me to say these things, but what can you actually do about this” then maybe here are some things you can try to distance yourself from the addicting pull of the numbers popularity game:
1. Take a step back - Try to be self-aware and realize what your expectations and goals are when you post a fic. I would refrain from an outcome that you cannot control. Number of hits/kudos/comments are things you cannot control. Who reads your fic and what they say are largely things you cannot control. What other writers post and what their readers say are things you cannot control. Realize that there’s always going to be a “bigger” and “better” fic by the numbers. There’s always a bigger fish. Don’t fall into the trap of measuring the worth of a fic, and by extension yourself, by numbers that you cannot control.
2. Find a friend - Someone whose feedback you cherish and who can laugh and cry with you and give you that feel good feeling we get when we share things, the communal creatures that we are. Share your love with them and have fun!
3. Participate in an exchange - Much easier to feel happy about a response to a fic when it’s specifically made and targeted to one single person. As long as that person likes it, mission accomplished! Also, exchanges usually have a community (fellow participants, mods, betas) for the event who can give you feedback as well. It’s a pretty good way to make some new fandom friends too!
4. Get feedback from the right people - If you are looking for feedback to improve on your writing, try to find someone whose opinion you respect and who you can build a relationship with. Constructive criticism is often very personal and takes a lot of trust between the giver and the recipient. It will take some time to build enough trust with a beta/friend/reader, so be patient with them, yourself, and the process. If you are able to build enough trust with someone you want feedback from, I find it helpful to be specific when you ask for feedback: “The pacing feels off here. What do you think?” “Can you help me show XYZ? I want it to feel like ABC.” “Does A seem to be too childish here?” “Is B acting out of character?” “Is there too much description on this page and did you lose interest?” Take their feedback at face value and try to keep an open mind. Communication is key to any relationship and it is no different with something like this.
5. Write, but do not post - Write your fic. Create. Put it down in words. But if you can’t stop yourself from constantly comparing yourself to others, don’t put yourself in that position. Just don’t post your fic. Let it sit in google docs, Word, or whatever word processor you used to bring your thought to life. Don’t gamble your happiness on things you can’t control. Find another reason to write.
Be honest with yourself about why you write. Try to stop comparing yourself and your fic to others. Don’t let something that should bring you joy be a source of sorrow.
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whitehotharlots · 3 years
Text
The point is control
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Whenever we think or talk about censorship, we usually conceptualize it as certain types of speech being somehow disallowed: maybe (rarely) it's made formally illegal by the government, maybe it's banned in certain venues, maybe the FCC will fine you if you broadcast it, maybe your boss will fire you if she learns of it, maybe your friends will stop talking to you if they see what you've written, etc. etc. 
This understanding engenders a lot of mostly worthless discussion precisely because it's so broad. Pedants--usually arguing in favor of banning a certain work or idea--will often argue that speech protections only apply to direct, government bans. These bans, when they exist, are fairly narrow and apply only to those rare speech acts in which other people are put in danger by speech (yelling the N-word in a crowded theater, for example). This pedantry isn't correct even within its own terms, however, because plenty of people get in trouble for making threats. The FBI has an entire entrapment program dedicated to getting mentally ill muslims and rednecks to post stuff like "Death 2 the Super bowl!!" on twitter, arresting them, and the doing a press conference about how they heroically saved the world from terrorism. 
Another, more recent pedant's trend is claiming that, actually, you do have freedom of speech; you just don't have freedom from the consequences of speech. This logic is eerily dictatorial and ignores the entire purpose of speech protections. Like, even in the history's most repressive regimes, people still technically had freedom of speech but not from consequences. Those leftist kids who the nazis beheaded for speaking out against the war were, by this logic, merely being held accountable. 
The two conceptualizations of censorship I described above are, 99% of the time, deployed by people who are arguing in favor of a certain act of censorship but trying to exempt themselves from the moral implications of doing so. Censorship is rad when they get to do it, but they realize such a solipsism seems kinda icky so they need to explain how, actually, they're not censoring anybody, what they're doing is an act of righteous silencing that's a totally different matter. Maybe they associate censorship with groups they don't like, such as nazis or religious zealots. Maybe they have a vague dedication toward Enlightenment principles and don't want to be regarded as incurious dullards. Most typically, they're just afraid of the axe slicing both ways, and they want to make sure that the precedent they're establishing for others will not be applied to themselves.
Anyone who engages with this honestly for more than a few minutes will realize that censorship is much more complicated, especially in regards to its informal and social dimensions. We can all agree that society simply would not function if everyone said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. You might think your boss is a moron or your wife's dress doesn't look flattering, but you realize that such tidbits are probably best kept to yourself. 
Again, this is a two-way proposition that everyone is seeking to balance. Do you really want people to verbalize every time they dislike or disagree with you? I sure as hell don't. And so, as part of a social compact, we learn to self-censor. Sometimes this is to the detriment of ourselves and our communities. Most often, however, it's just a price we have to pay in order to keep things from collapsing. 
But as systems, large and small, grow increasingly more insane and untenable, so do the comportment standards of speech. The disconnect between America's reality and the image Americans have of themselves has never been more plainly obvious, and so striving for situational equanimity is no longer good enough. We can't just pretend cops aren't racist and the economy isn't run by venal retards or that the government places any value on the life of its citizens. There's too much evidence that contradicts all that, and the evidence is too omnipresent. There's too many damn internet videos, and only so many of them can be cast as Russian disinformation. So, sadly, we must abandon our old ways of communicating and embrace instead systems that are even more unstable, repressive, and insane than the ones that were previously in place.
Until very, very recently, nuance and big-picture, balanced thinking were considered signs of seriousness, if not intelligence. Such considerations were always exploited by shitheads to obfuscate things that otherwise would have seemed much less ambiguous, yes, but this fact alone does not mitigate the potential value of such an approach to understanding the world--especially since the stuff that's been offered up to replace it is, by every worthwhile metric, even worse.
So let's not pretend I'm Malcolm Gladwell or some similarly slimy asshole seeking to "both sides" a clearcut moral issue. Let's pretend I am me. Flash back to about a year ago, when there was real, widespread, and sustained support for police reform. Remember that? Seems like forever ago, man, but it was just last year... anyhow, now, remember what happened? Direct, issues-focused attempts to reform policing were knocked down. Blotted out. Instead, we were told two things: 1) we had to repeat the slogan ABOLISH THE POLICE, and 2) we had to say it was actually very good and beautiful and nonviolent and valid when rioters burned down poor neighborhoods.
Now, in a relatively healthy discourse, it might have been possible for someone to say something like "while I agree that American policing is heavily violent and racist and requires substantial reforms, I worry that taking such an absolutist point of demanding abolition and cheering on the destruction of city blocks will be a political non-starter." This statement would have been, in retrospect, 100000000% correct. But could you have said it, in any worthwhile manner? If you had said something along those lines, what would the fallout had been? Would you have lost friends? Your job? Would you have suffered something more minor, like getting yelled at, told your opinion did not matter? Would your acquaintances still now--a year later, after their political project has failed beyond all dispute--would they still defame you in "whisper networks," never quite articulating your verbal sins but nonetheless informing others that you are a dangerous and bad person because one time you tried to tell them how utterly fucking self-destructive they were being? It is undeniably clear that last year's most-elevated voices were demanding not reform but catharsis. I hope they really had fun watching those immigrant-owned bodegas burn down, because that’s it, that will forever be remembered as the most palpable and consequential aspect of their shitty, selfish movement. We ain't reforming shit. Instead, we gave everyone who's already in power a blank check to fortify that power to a degree you and I cannot fully fathom.
But, oh, these people knew what they were doing. They were good little boys and girls. They have been rewarded with near-total control of the national discourse, and they are all either too guilt-ridden or too stupid to realize how badly they played into the hands of the structures they were supposedly trying to upend.
And so left-liberalism is now controlled by people whose worldview is equal parts superficial and incoherent. This was the only possible outcome that would have let the system continue to sustain itself in light of such immense evidence of its unsustainability without resulting in reform, so that's what has happened.
But... okay, let's take a step back. Let's focus on what I wanted to talk about when I started this.
I came across a post today from a young man who claimed that his high school English department head had been removed from his position and had his tenure revoked for refusing to remove three books from classrooms. This was, of course, fallout from the ongoing debate about Critical Race Theory. Two of those books were Marjane Satropi's Persepolis and, oh boy, The Diary of Anne Frank. Fuck. Jesus christ, fuck.
Now, here's the thing... When Persepolis was named, I assumed the bannors were anti-CRT. The graphic novel does not deal with racism all that much, at least not as its discussed contemporarily, but it centers an Iranian girl protagonist and maybe that upset Republican types. But Anne Frank? I'm sorry, but the most likely censors there are liberal identiarians who believe that teaching her diary amounts to centering the suffering of a white woman instead of talking about the One Real Racism, which must always be understood in an American context. The super woke cult group Black Hammer made waves recently with their #FuckAnneFrank campaign... you'd be hard pressed to find anyone associated with the GOP taking a firm stance against the diary since, oh, about 1975 or so.
So which side was it? That doesn't matter. What matters is, I cannot find out.
Now, pro-CRT people always accuse anti-CRT people of not knowing what CRT is, and then after making such accusations they always define CRT in a way that absolutely is not what CRT is. Pro-CRTers default to "they don't want  students to read about slavery or racism." This is absolutely not true, and absolutely not what actual CRT concerns itself with. Slavery and racism have been mainstays of American history curriucla since before I was born. Even people who barely paid attention in school would admit this, if there were any more desire for honesty in our discourse. 
My high school history teacher was a southern "lost causer" who took the south's side in the Civil War but nonetheless provided us with the most descriptive and unapologetic understandings of slavery's brutalities I had heard up until that point. He also unambiguously referred to the nuclear attacks on Hiroshmia and Nagasaki as "genocidal." Why? Because most people's politics are idiosyncratic, and because you cannot genuinely infer a person to believe one thing based on their opinion of another, tangentially related thing. The totality of human understanding used to be something open-minded people prided themselves on being aware of, believe it or not...
This is the problem with CRT. This is is the motivation behind the majority of people who wish to ban it. It’s not because they are necessarily racist themselves. It’s because they recognize, correctly, that the now-ascendant frames for understanding social issues boils everything down to a superficial patina that denies not only the realities of the systems they seek to upend but the very humanity of the people who exist within them. There is no humanity without depth and nuance and complexities and contradictions. When you argue otherwise, people will get mad and fight back. 
And this is the most bitter irony of this idiotic debate: it was never about not wanting to teach the sinful or embarrassing parts of our history. That was a different debate, one that was settled and won long ago. It is instead an immense, embarrassing overreach on behalf of people who have bullied their way to complete dominance of their spheres of influence within media and academe assuming they could do the same to everyone else. Some of its purveyors may have convinced themselves that getting students to admit complicity in privilege will prevent police shootings, sure. But I know these people. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ve read their work. The vast, vast majority of them aren’t that stupid. The point is to exert control. The point is to make sure they stay in charge and that nothing changes. The point is failure. 
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thegeminisage · 3 years
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Here's something I'd love your take on: I read a meta recently (would link it but I can't remember where, ack) that suggested that Sam is able to forgive John in later seasons because a) he's had the whole "family making unilateral decisions for your own good" thing repeatedly shoved down his throat, and b) whatever John did under this umbrella in their childhoods, Dean has done far worse by that point, and Sam HAS to forgive him so by extension he can't really be mad at John anymore (1/2)
(2/2) As someone who has admittedly only seen bits and pieces of the later seasons, this seems to jive with Sam losing a lot of his characteristic early-seasons anger, letting Dean call the shots almost all the time even when he thinks it's the wrong move, and moments of sympathy for John (contrasted w/Dean's growing resentment, which is so interesting!). But! I got some big ol' gaps in my spn comprehension, so was curious if you had any thoughts on this dynamic
wow okay long answer warning! i got carried away and forgot how to use punctuation. nobody is obligated to read all of this lol and the biggest part of the answer is behind a cut. anyway!!
first things first: i think a big thing to remember with sam’s characterization in later seasons is that it’s like...not there, and when it is there, it’s sometimes flat and inconsistent. because dean became sole the main protagonist after the first 8 (arguably the first 5 or even first 2) seasons, sam sort of got demoted to “side character we don’t know what to do with” along with cas and crowley. they all had good arcs pop up now and then (sam had some fun stuff going on with lucifer in s11 and s13) but most of the time the writers either don’t know how to give him a meaningful characterization or don’t care (or both). so we have to do a lot of that work ourselves. 
so, for example, when we talk about sam losing his anger, i like to read it as him OVERCOMING that anger to avoid becoming his father (which may even be where some of the seemingly sympathetic comments come from, because he’s trying to be forgiving instead of angry), but really...it’s that the writers forgot he had anger issues. in-universe explanation vs irl explanation, yk? and i think pretty much all meta about sam in late seasons is written through that lens, whether the writer of that meta knows it or not. including this one! i can’t prove any of this shit, it’s my personal reading, i’m making it up. like there were just SO many different people involved in the production of supernatural that there was a lot of conflict and contradictions in things like continuity and characterization. (most of the writers room hadn’t even seen every episode!) so there’s not one definitive way to go about it. in many ways it makes the characters more nuanced and in many other ways it makes me fucking insane.
as for sam and john and whether or not sam forgives him, i’m actually glad you asked because this has been driving me nuts for a long time and it took me SO LONG to pin it down - sam’s relationship with john is very different to dean’s, and i couldn’t figure out WHY. it’s not that he was “abused less,” it’s not that he loved john less or was less hurt by his actions, so why doesn’t he seem as INVESTED in everything that happened to them as kids? like he says in season 14 he had to learn to let it go and that it was all a lifetime ago for him. meanwhile i think dean still deals with it every day. he’s still stewing in it to some degree 24/7. so like what’s the difference??
i think it comes down to two things. firstly, that while dean didn’t have anybody parenting him except john (and mary, but only for a very short time that he could actually remember), SAM’S parents were john AND DEAN. most of the time dean was the one raising sam, and in fact he arguably did way more parenting of sam than john did. so the person that made dean feel safe and like he could fight back against monsters, the person he was grateful to, was john. but the person who made SAM feel safest was dean. he doesn’t have that same gratitude towards john that dean does and he never will, because of how john made him feel alienated and excluded from their family growing up. dean’s resentment of john is so tangled up in this very deep and unconditional love and gratitude for him that sam just doesn’t have. 
secondly, i think dean has a serious case of “i can fix him” re: john that sam doesn’t have and possibly never had. john just never showed sam the same kind of inclusion and warmth and trust that he showed dean (however rarely he showed it, and however fucked up it was). i think sam figured out very very early on that their quest for yellow eyes was either a long shot or straight up impossible, and that they couldn’t waste their entire lives doing it, and that even if the demon died, john was never going to change. dean 100% drank the koolaid - he really truly believed in a world where someday they’d kill the demon and all retire from the life and be normal and be a family again, because that’s what john said and dean took his father’s word as gospel. sam knew better.
so i think what sam did was just disengage. partially because he felt he couldn’t afford to nurse that kind of anger and not become either his father or lucifer, and partially because even though sam loved john, still loves john, he never needed him the way dean did, because sam had dean. so it doesn’t hurt him as much to just “gray rock” it. i think if sam stopped and really dug into it he’d find that he’s still quite angry (probably more angry on dean’s behalf than his own, at least at first, because in his mind he was able to move past it and dean was not, dean had it worse, HIS OWN trauma isn’t real etc etc), but he doesn’t do that because he doesn’t want to be that angry, and possibly even thinks that if he brought it up dean would jump to john’s defense and it would cause a fight, which the opposite of what a gray rock does.
as for being forced to forgive john because if he didn’t he would also have to condemn dean...i don’t think i buy that at all. sam is fine making dean his exception and he allows dean to get away with a lot of deeply horrible shit he would condemn other people for. partially because he’s dean and sam loves him, but in my ~personal reading~ of sam, this is also because once sam became an adult the weight of everything dean did and had to give up to raise him really sank in, and part of him felt guilty (even though sam arguably didn’t have a childhood either). you know how kids take care of their parents in old age to repay them for raising them? that’s sort of how sam is with dean in later seasons - he implies multiple times that he would leave the hunting life forever and not look back if it weren’t for dean.
and as a side note - sorry, this is only tangentially related - dean implies several times in later seasons that the job is where he finds his sense of accomplishment and self-esteem and meaning - he believes the world is a better place because of what he and sam do, and even though he doesn’t always like DOING the job, he likes the outcome. it’s weird because this is as close as we see dean get to even HAVING self esteem. sam, emotionally intelligent, would have picked up on that - and since he and dean have both tried to leave the life multiple times and have always come to regret it, i also think part of sam believes you CAN’T escape - certainly SAM could never escape so long as dean was still in it, because whether he meant to or not dean would always pull him back in. and part of dean doesn’t really want to escape because he’s made his peace with it. so sam stays, and i think even if he can’t find the same meaning in the job that dean does, he finds a lot of meaning in being there for dean. (this, like gray rocking, is also consistent with the seasons where sam’s sole character trait is caring about dean lol. but i’m happy enough to read it in a kinder and less bitter/resentful way.)
it IS worth noting i think that the most forgiving sam ever was about john was in the adam episode, where he said he understood why he was the way he was and why he did what he did, and when dean said they were alike sam decided to take it as a compliment. sam in season 4 is arguably at one of his lowest points - struggling with addiction, consumed by anger and hatred and the need for revenge. he WAS like john in many ways, and i think he justified what john was doing because it also justified what HE was doing. but what he was doing led to breaking lucifer out of hell and the apocalypse that followed, which is why i like to think sam worked so hard to reign in his anger afterward - both to avoid his fate and avoid becoming his father.
in short: i don’t think sam has actually forgiven john so much as disengaged from him and moved past it. because if he DID engage with it, it’d bring up a whole lot of stuff he didn’t feel prepared to deal with. one of the risks of gray rocking things is doing it to the point that you lose touch with your own wants and needs and personality, so i think by late seasons sam’s repression, which is much more sneaky and quiet than dean’s, has settled in to the point where he’s like “yeah whatever” about dad out of sheer self preservation - because otherwise, he’d end up going crazy about it like dean does. i think it’d do him a hell of a lot of good to be able to get to shout at john and finally say his piece/ he’s really afraid of his own anger, but i think it’d be healthy for him to get back in touch with some of it.
[spn masterpost]
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Drive By ~ Reggie (part 2)
A/n: This part’s Discord link! I want to clarify this time that the discord server is actually run by @httpnxtt ! So bless her for giving us a place to SCREAM (as we so often do!) Also I wrote this listening to “Lover Man” by Ricky Montgomery and this HEAVILY follows that song so feel free to listen to it to enhanse the experience!
Word Count: 7400+
Warnings: OKay so listen this part could potentially be super triggering so READ THIS PLEASE!!!! Grief (blaming yourself, anger, depression, etc), trauma reaction to arguing/yelling, trauma reaction to assumed physical abuse, implied minors having past sexual experiences, internalized homophobia, people discriminate against soulmates in this au, implied domestic disputes, rejection. I... think that’s it I’m so sorry if I’ve forgotten something.
MASTERLIST
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Reggie really hated soulmates.
He liked seeing other people and their soulmates, and he loved talking about soulmates with other people. It's just, if he'd had the choice, he wished more than anything that he could have just... not had one himself. He'd rather just be one of those odd people who never manifested a soulmate connection; that would be so, so much better if this is what having a soulmate meant for him.
Now, Reggie didn't always feel this way. When he was younger he used to listen to people talk about their soulmates all the time and dream of a future when he got his. His parents had been one of those people who strongly believed that soulmates were a bad thing, and had been open and proud that they weren't soulmates. Maybe seeing them argue all the time had been the basis of his love for soulmates, and his drive to find his.
If only he could tell his young self that life isn't that simple. There's no magical cure to loneliness, and soulmates aren't all they're cracked up to be. Not for him. Nothing ever was, for him.
"Reg?"
The bassist looked over, eyes wide as his name was called. "Yeah?"
Alex was the one looking at him, concern creasing his features. "You seem really distracted today. You alright?"
In all honesty, he absolutely wasn't. Ever since they'd been forcefully brought back into the land of the living as ghosts, and now they were trying to make a band again and Alex had found his soulmate and the world was so crazy different and Luke was acting weird like he ALWAYS did when soulmates were involved and Reggie was really overwhelmed.
"Yeah," he answered anyway. Thinking about soulmates makes him finally make a decision he's been trying to avoid for a few days now. "I'm a little restless. I think I'm going to go on a walk. Take a page out of your book." He smiles and stands up, and Alex nods.
Luke looked over. Reggie should have known Luke would have known that Reggie didn't like walks like Alex did. "Do you want company?"
"No," Reggie answered immediately. It came off less as desperate and more insistent though, so he didn't stress about how fast he'd said it. Usually he'd love to have Luke around, but he couldn't for what he wanted to do. Especially because he knew the only reason Luke wanted to go along is because the last time one of them went on a walk they came back with a soulmate mark, and he didn't want Luke to be all over him and protective. He couldn't deal with that right now. Luke's face fell though and Reggie added, "I just need some space you know?" His voice was soft this time, and Luke nodded after a second, a small smile on his face.
With that, Reggie poofed out of the garage and was outside, turning away to begin walking down the road.
The sun was going down before he found what he'd been looking for. He'd had to sneak around and peak where he probably shouldn't of, but he had to know. Fine, it was creepy. He wasn't proud. But he... he HAD to know.
It was his snooping that had brought him to the graveyard.
Walking through the yard looking at every single head stone searching for the one name he was most afraid to see but knew he eventually would, Reggie realized that in all of the things that he had imagined when he'd thought about tracking down a certain someone from his past every single outcome possible made him just as sick as this did.
Finally he came across the grave he was looking for. At the top was a name. Y/n's name. Reggie sat on the dirt, legs crossed, hands in his lap. As he looked at the grave, he felt the top right corner of his chest itch. The spot just below his collar bone. His hand itched to touch it, but he wasn't like Luke. He didn't give into urges. He was too afraid if he touched it enough times people would realized the real reason he never wanted to change in front of anyone else.
His eyes closed and he sighed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the gravestone. "I remember the night you left. The hours Luke spent crying when his soulmate mark turned grey. I remember Alex holding him so tightly and calming him down. How I had to..." He swallowed. "I had to be quiet about how much it hurt me too." He sat back, his eyes opening again as he looked at the year on the tombstone. He reached out, his fingers grazing over the year Y/n had died. "You died the same year we did. I wonder how it happened. How many months were you around that we weren't? What-" His voice choked with emotion. "Did you hear about us? What happened? Did you even care?" His voice was soft and it faded, his hands raising to rub at his face. Finally, Reggie shook his head and moved to his feet. He bent down to touch the top of the stone. "I'm sorry for how things happened all those years ago." And then he turned away and he left, and he didn't look back.
-
"You should ask him out."
Reggie jumped and his eyes whipped around. When had Y/n gotten to the studio?  "Oh hey." He tried to smile and laugh the comment off, but his fear at being caught red handed made his stomach twist and both the sound and the expression he made were contorted with awkwardness.
Y/n rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall next to Reggie. "Listen I might be gay, but I'm not stupid." He grinned. "Luke. Talk to him."
Without meaning to, Reggie looked back at Luke. He was talking to Alex and Bobby about the newest song he'd written and how he wanted it to sound. Alex had asked about what the song was about and it had set Luke off for half an hour. Reggie hadn't taken his eyes off of the lead singer since the conversation had started. When talking about music and things he was passionate about in general, Luke was so... beautiful? That really was the word for it. He wouldn't have done it if he hadn't been sure no one was looking... he'd forgotten Y/n was coming over today. Even then, how did the dude just walk in without alerting a single other person in the room?
Reggie cleared his throat and looked away from Luke. At least it was Y/n. He didn't have to hide from Y/n. In the small time he'd been going out with Luke, Y/n had been the most amazing person Reggie had ever met. He was so warm and welcoming. He made Reggie feel safe, like every time he was around Reggie was coming home. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced since his parents had ruined the feeling of safety and belonging in his house, and since his feelings for Luke had made everything so weird for him in the studio. Both places had lots of good feelings and memories and got so very close, but it was Y/n that really drove it home, if you will. Because of this, when Reggie spoke, it was with defeat and not denial. "I can't."
"Why not?" Y/n asked.
Looking over at Y/n with an odd expression, Reggie felt himself  get really confused. Was this one of those times he had missed something that was obvious to most people, or was that as weird as it felt? "You just learned I have feelings for your boyfriend and you want me to act on them?"
A soft, low laugh rumbled and Reggie felt himself smile despite himself. "He's not my boyfriend." Something between a grimace and a bittersweet smile rested on Y/n's lips, and slowly the sweet part of it was fading away. "He made that very clear." Reggie went to defend Luke but Y/n just held up a hand. "I know. I understand, I really do. Soulmates are like a huge taboo, and it doesn't help that we're both dudes. Trust me, I know how bad it can ruin your life when people find out you're not straight."
Reggie thought about Alex. "Most of us do," he said without thinking.
Y/n just nodded, not pressing Reggie for more information. Y/n was really good about reading people like that. Knowing what to say and when to say it. It was as if he could feel the spike of panic that Reggie had felt a second after saying what he had. "And I understand that too. I don't BLAME him. I'm not MAD at him. It just sucks. I mean, your parents don't know we're friends. None of your fans know I even exist. I mean Bobby and Alex are IN the band and they only found out about us like a week ago. We've been seeing each other for a month and a half." He scoffed. "I hate feeling like a secret. Like... he's ashamed of me. Like I'm sort of dirty pleasure. The way people look at porn." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly he's lucky he's worth it." This was said with more humor, and Reggie was relieved to feel the dark mood begin to slip away. "I have plenty of people who'd be very public about being in love with me." Then he winked at Reggie.
Without knowing why, Reggie's face went warm and his heartbeat picked up. It was the exact same thing that had happened when Luke made eye contact with him while they were singing, or when they got too close while sharing the mic and their shoulders or legs brushed. That moment of intense adrenaline when it was suffocatingly hot and Reggie's blood was rushing and then the guy he'd been crushing on for years looked at him and made him feel like he was the only person in the room. Reggie had always been so relieved that Luke could only do that during performances, when Reggie had something else to focus on immediately. When he had to be professional, and not when they were alone and he couldn't hold himself back from kissing Luke if given the chance.
How could Y/n make him feel like that now? They were just sitting here!
"If you're sad he won't publically be with you, then-"
"Because you two can have a relationship in public. People have seen you perform and no one blinks at it. Not at the way you look at each other, or how fine you are with invading each others' space. It's just written off as bandmates stuff. You probably share a room, or have known each other very long. Unless you kissed on stage no one would even care. Only the other gays would know and what are they gonna do, judge you?" He snickered and Reggie had to admit it made him smile. "You both have good reputations. It's as fair for me to be hidden as it is for him to hide me. He hates it - I can tell. He wants to go on actual dates or just been seen in public together. He wants to tell the girls that flirt with him to back off because he's taken. But he can't." Y/n sighed.
"And you think I can give him that?" Reggie asked. Y/n looked over, obviously surprised by the tint of humor in Reggie's voice. The bassist found it hilarious that all these things seemed to be a continuation of why Y/n wanted Reggie to give asking Luke out a shot... but then something clicked in his head and his smile dropped dead in exchange for wide eyes that matched Y/n's. "You think he likes me back." It was deadpan, opposite to the torrent of emotion inside of him.
Y/n scoffed. "Well YES, but... Reggie between us, you're the closest he's ever gonna get to a real relationship. The kind he wants, at least."
Reggie wasn't having that though. "Y/n he's head over heels for you. I didn't even think there was any room in that head of his FOR romance until he and Alex went out, and even then... I mean they broke up for a reason. Sometimes I feel like the only reason he-" Reggie snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting away as he realized what he was about to say.
By the look on Y/n's face, he got the feeling eh didn't actually have to say it. Y/n just nodded. "He only wants to be with me because we're soulmates." Reggie shrunk. "It's fine, I think so too. That's why I don't think I would mind if he did date someone else, along with whatever we have. As long as the person he decides to be with is okay with it. I don't know, I really like Luke and I really like us. I just feel like he deserves better sometimes, you know?"
The thing was, Reggie didn't know. He had never seen Luke as happy as he was with Y/n. He had meant that he only thought they had started dating because of the whole soulmates thing - Luke wouldn't still be with Y/n if the boy wasn't important to him. Luke looked at Y/n the same way he looked when he talked about music. But Reggie didn't know how to say that, so what he said instead was, "You matter a lot to him." It was quiet for a second before he added, "I don't think there are many people who make him as happy as you do. Even if you're just... here."
Y/n looked at his hands. "He told me about when he was a kid, and he'd check his body for any mark or name or phrase or anything. He told me about his parents had been missing s color before they met, and how they'd only told him when he was older and could keep a secret, but how they didn't want Luke to run away from potential great love because he turned away from his soulmate like so many do. They filled his head with so many hopes and dreams and... the way he looked at me that night. Without knowing anything about me, he looked at me like I was the reason the stars were in the sky. Sometimes I think that's all it is. That we share this mark, and the universe looked at me and whispered to him, 'that one'. He wouldn't have chosen me otherwise."
"He wouldn't have," Reggie agreed honestly. "But he has now, and I think it would kill him to lose you." Y/n went to argue, but this time it was Reggie who shook his head, cutting off whatever was about to be said. "I'm serious. You two are special. Don't diminish that."
After a second, Y/n's body relaxed and he smiled, nodding. "Thanks Reg." Reggie nodded and then they both looked at Luke, who was wrapping up whatever he was talking about, as Bobby wanted to get back to practicing. "I still think you should ask him out."
Reggie shoved Y/n off the couch at that, and both of their laughter finally brought the attention of Luke, who immediately ended the conversation by coming over and being within ear shot. Which meant Y/n had the last word.
This time.
-
"You're touching it again." Alex's eyes shot up to see Reggie's amused smile. He had gotten into the same habit Luke did; whenever he was nervous, his thumb would reach out to brush over the inked on words on his wrist. "What's bugging you?"
Alex sighed. "I'm just ALWAYS thinking about him, you know? Like I-" His face suddenly went very red. "I don't know, this feel so different to any relationship I've ever had. And maybe that's because the only other person I really dated was Luke, but-" He shrugged.
Understanding completely, Reggie nodded. "I get it. It must be nice, to have that. Do you think he feels the same?"
The blush got worse. "I... yeah." He cleared his throat and Reggie tried not to laugh. "We've been hanging out a lot and he's been answering a lot of questions. It's still not like anything serious - we're still getting to know each other, and we're both letting this take us where we want to go. Like, it's slower than it was with Luke, but faster than Flynn and Julie explained the pace of their relationship."
That made Reggie snort. "To be fair, it took YEARS for those two to do anything about their soulmate stuff."
"Yeah but they met super young," Alex reminded. Reggie nodded - that was a fair point. "Once they talked about what the soulmate thing between them meant, they took like a few months to figure it out. It's been like a week for us and I already feel like I've known him for years." He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes kept flickering around the studio, and Reggie felt his stomach twist painfully as he realized what Alex was doing.
He was looking for Luke.
The last time they'd discussed soulmates, Julie had asked Luke about Y/n and it had gotten... awkward.
Reggie interlaced his fingers together to stop himself from suddenly scratching the intense itch he felt over that stupid, stupid mark on his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about it, but he refused to give himself away. He'd managed to hide it from his closest friends for an entire year - he wasn't going to trip up now. "Man, I'm happy for you. You deserve this. Not just the soulmate thing, but the way you talk about Willie makes me so happy for you." Reggie grinned despite himself. "I wish I could see you two together more."
Alex loosened up, his own smile growing. "Don't you listen to me talk about him enough without having to see me be an idiot in person?"
Reggie laughed. "You know I would love to see you be HAPPY," he stressed, raising his eyebrows. He always corrected his friends when they dished on themselves. "What you guys have is special."
Alex tilted his head. "You know, I always wondered what it would be like for you to get a soulmate. I bet you'd be even more a disaster than me."
Reggie had to remind himself that he was dead and didn't have a heartbeat, because he was sure he'd had a heart attack when Alex had said that. Once again, the urge to touch that damn mark was strong and he clenched his hands into fists so tightly his knuckles went white. "Yeah I've always wondered too." He cleared his throat. "That won't get you out of talking to me about Willie though. Come on, I have questions!"
The distraction worked... For now. He hoped it would keep working just a little longer.
-
Luke had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up with Y/n on the couch in the studio. His breathing was even and low and soft and it was almost enough to help Reggie go to sleep too. Only almost though, because Reggie was REALLY distracted by the way he looked with his hair falling in his face and his cheeks squished as he lay his head on Y/n's chest. He was even more distracted by the thought of being like that with Luke and feeling guilty because the more he thought about it, the smugger Y/n got and the smugger Y/n got, the more Reggie thought about it. It was a cycle and he was slowly going absolutely insane - the entire time, Y/n wore a knowing smile and barely held back from busting up laughing at him.
It was no different now.
"You're ridiculous," Y/n sighed softly.
"Shut up," Reggie complained, his eyes closing. It wasn't so much an order as it was a whine, and Y/n had to force himself not to giggle. Laughing would move his chest and wake up Luke, and the boy desperately needed sleep.
Y/n sighed. "I don't know why you don't just ask him out." This time Reggie groaned, but still kept it soft as not to disturb Luke. Bobby and Alex had gone home hours ago, and the three of them had stayed to talk, but Luke had fallen asleep so that Y/n was pinned. The problem was he couldn't get comfortable  as he sat in the middle of the couch, leaving him nothing to lean against and fall asleep on. Y/n had invited Reggie to sit next to him and be Y/n's pillow, but the bassist didn't think he could handle that AND Luke without combusting.
Pulling his thoughts away from thinking about Y/n sleeping on him - because for some reason, that was so much harder to deal with than imagining Luke doing it, in the sense that it made his heart want to explode and his head feel fuzzy and his skin tingle and that terrified him in a way he could not explain - Reggie moved his gaze toward the roof before saying, "It wouldn't work out."
There was some shuffling and Reggie looked back to see Y/n very slowly, skillfully maneuvering Luke in a way that didn't wake the brunette as Y/n slipped out from underneath him. Luke complained in the form of sleepy, incoherent mumbles and scrunching up his face for a few seconds, but was otherwise undisturbed. Reggie was astounded. Luke was a light sleeper, so the feat alone was amazing... but also, if Y/n could do that the whole time why hadn't he done it much earlier instead of asking Reggie to join the sleep train?
While he was busy being surprised, Y/n settled in a new spot, next to Reggie. He reached out, his hand cupping Reggie's cheek to gently bring the boys' eyes to a meeting point. Reggie felt his throat clog up and swallowed to force down the lump attempting to choke him. "Reggie," Y/n asked in a soft voice, eyes earnest and wide. "Why don't you think you deserve love?"
Reggie was speechless. How could Y/n have POSSIBLY known that? "I didn't say-"
Y/n shook his head. "You didn't have to. But that's not important. Don't start lying to me now." Y/n was very close and Reggie could not summon a single helpful thought in all of the possible workings of his human mind. He HAD many thoughts, but not a SINGLE one of them included him thinking straight and it was immediately an intense struggle. "Reggie, you are so amazing," Y/n whispered, and the raspy touch in his voice made Reggie die a little bit inside. "You're so kind and warm and soft, like as a person. You feel so much and have so much compassion and care so much about people. I don't know what you think it is that has you so convinced you don't deserve EVERYTHING the world has to offer and more, but I promise you that everyone who matters? Alex, me and Bobby, and YES, even Luke - we all see how incredible you are. Please tell me you can see it too, even just a little bit.
A good swallow finally dislodged the lump in his throat, and Reggie found his voice. "Y/n..." He shook his head, and Y/n's hands fell to his shoulders. "I just feel... different than everyone else. I'm..." He couldn't find words. "It's not that I don't think I deserve happiness. I just feel like I'm not ever going to find it. Not like you and Luke. I don't think that's part of what's going to be in my future. I feel like I'm missing something important sometimes. Something other people just have, and are born with. Like a really key part of a puzzle?" He shrugged, turning his head away.
"Oh Reggie," Y/n whispered in that same soft tone that spoke volumes of softness and fondness. "How could you think you need anything other than what you already have, when what you have is so amazing and special?" Reggie looked over as Y/n's left hand shifted Reggie's collar to touch his skin at the top right of Reggie's chest with his palm. Y/n's fingertips grazed Reggie's neck. "Do you feel that, Reg? Your heart..." Reggie realized why Y/n had moved his shirt - to feel his heartbeat. "You bleed kindness. You have always, I think. From what I've seen, and what I've heard, you're surrounded by hardship and hate and struggle, and somehow you came out of all of it with a heart gushing with love. I don't care what you think you're missing. You have THIS, and that is ALL you need. YOU are enough, Reginald. You are all anyone ever needs."
Reggie felt an... odd sensation. A warmth that spread through his body, from where Y/n touched him. At first he thought it was just that the words had touched him so much, but as the warmth faded, there was something left behind. A tingly buzzing sensation, right where Y/n's palm touched Reggie's chest.
Eyes widening, Y/n moved his hand away. It was only then they both realized it was the same hand he had touched Luke with for the first time. The same hand that had the Rose tattoo. The one that matched the one on Luke's shoulder. The shape that  marked the two boys soulmates. The mark which before had been only one outline of a rose... but was now two roses, crossed over each other. Identical, but facing opposite directions. Their stems curled the same way, the tilt was the same, but they faced opposite directions, ending up crossing each other.
"Oh my god," Y/n whispered. His eyes moved to Reggie's chest, which was still slightly exposed. His eyes went wide, his face draining of color.
A sort of panic suddenly flooding him, Reggie shot to his feet and flew to the bathroom. He tugged down the color of his shirt, looking in the mirror. To his horror, where Y/n's hand had touched his skin was the detailed drawing of a rose without any color. The same mark that had been on Y/n's palm and Luke's shoulder since they had met. Their soulmate mark.
His eyes caught motion and he looked over to see a suddenly shy Y/n in the doorway. "So," the teen edged, tension in his shoulders and hesitation in his eyes. "I guess this means we're soulmates too. How fun is that?"
-
"I guess I failed on that whole not coming back thing." Reggie was sat on the dirt plot in front of Y/n's gravestone again, shaking his head at himself. "I promised last time was my last time. Did the same thing the time before that." Reggie could feel his heart ache and his stomach tie into knots so tight that they gave him a stomach ache. His eyes watered as he looked at the name on the stone, blurring the words as he felt his heart scream in his chest. He put his face in his hands, slowly moving his fingers so they wound into his hair. "I miss you so much." He was crying, his body shaking violently as he tried to hold it in and failed. "God I'm so sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry I ran from you back then. That I pushed you away and ignored you. You were the only person that knew. The only person I could talk to about this."
For a second he cut off, and he really cried. He cried and cried until his throat was sore and his body felt painful from how tight it was wound. He knew the pain wouldn't last. Physical pain never did now that he was a ghost. It didn't change the fact that his very soul ACHED. He felt like he was missing something important. Something irreplaceable. Something precious. And it was all his own fault.
When his voice returned, it was watery and weak. His words were torn and broken with hiccups and stuttering. He was absolutely miserable. "Y-you said- I tried to- and you just-" He pulled on his hair, suddenly ripping his hands away from the strands to angrily wipe at the stupid tears that wouldn't let him talk. He NEEDED to talk. He had to get out what he was feeling and make sense of all of the thoughts in his head.
He had gone through denial the first time he'd come here. He'd thought it was some sort of conclusion. A letting go of the past, to know that Y/n was gone. It was supposed to be an answer to a question. He was supposed to be relieved to know what happened. He was supposed to just find out where Y/n had ended up and then be fine with it. He had even visited the second time only to give a proper goodbye, and that was when it had hit him.
Y/n was gone. He hadn't grown up. He hadn't found happiness. He hadn't experienced a world accepting of him. He hadn't found someone else and been happy and safe like he deserved. The pain that thought brought him was more overwhelming than the realization that Reggie himself had suffered the same fate. More sharp than even Alex or Luke suffering the same fate, because at least the three of them had each other. They had Julie and the band, and they had skipped right to the good parts and missed all the bad parts where people fought tooth and nail for the world they had now. But Y/n had only ever had Sunset Curve. He didn't have anyone else that cared about him. He had died, probably alone and miserable, feeling rejected by the two people he felt for the most, and probably forgotten by the two friends he had. The only four people that had been kind to Y/n in a very long had all shut him out and in his last moments, he had no one to turn to.
The third time Reggie came to visit, the pain had been replaced by guilt. He had spent nights awake thinking about all the times Y/n had begged Reggie to tell Luke about the rose. About Reggie being their soulmate too. Y/n had spent weeks and weeks trying to get them all on the same level. Trying to work it out. But Reggie had rejected him. Had run from him, the same way Reggie had been run from. He hadn't helped when Y/n had needed it as things turned south with Luke. He hadn't helped when Luke had come to him looking for advice after the fight with Y/n. He had told Luke to forget about it, and now Luke hated soulmates and Y/n had died alone and it was all Reggie's fault. If he had just been braver. A better friend. A better soulmate...
His fourth time at the grave, all he felt was anger. Anger at himself. Anger at Luke and Y/n for fighting. Anger at these stupid soulmate marks. Anger at the world that had raised him for seventeen years to hate the best parts of himself. To fear the way he loved, and the people he loved. He was angry at the nightmares and the pain and the worry and the stress that had been so needless. Why couldn't men be in love with each other? Because it wasn't how people had loved each other in public? Because it was new? Because it was different? Why were soulmates so terrible? Well that one he knew. Soulmates had been such taboo then because it was one less thing people could control. One less part of peoples' lives that could be locked down and forced around. A power stronger than any law. An energy that fueled hope. Hope, an emotion stronger than even fear if grown and bolstered. And that's what soulmates did, right? Encouraged people to think differently. See more. Try something new. Soulmates could be two men, or two girls, or a man and a woman. It could be anyone. Soulmates didn't gender code like society wanted them too, so obviously they were evil. Julie had gone off about it one day and you know what she was right! It was bullshit!
It was the fifth time Reggie had come with pleading eyes and begging and pleading. He had sat in front of that stupid gravestone and tried not to cry as he prayed to whoever might be listening. As he talked to thin air. As he picked up fistfuls of dirt and chucked them at the gravestone and demanded a second chance. He had screamed and kicked it and almost fallen on his face when he went through the stone. The fifth time Reggie had lost his mind, and he had spent hours trying to just get the chance to say sorry. To tell Y/n all the things he'd been wanting to tell him for so long. All he wanted was five minutes. Didn't he at least deserve that?!
Now Reggie had no other emotions left. He didn't have denial to lean on, or anger or desperation or anything else. He had used up every emotion he could think of - even jealousy for a while, as he listened to stories about Julie and Flynn or Willie and Alex. He had used one after the other until he was left stripped bare and emptied out. And now as he sat there, he cried and cried until the sadness was gone too and the tears all ran out. And then he just sat there and stared at the grey stone that was always cold and always had Y/n's name on it and offered no help or love or reprieve or condolences or even a little mercy. He looked at the grey stone and he felt a sort of kinship with it. He felt his insides pulse with a dull ache, as if they were sore. It sat there, reminding him consistently that he just felt... hollow. Empty.
Numb.
His fingertips grazed over the words carved to make Y/n's name, and he thought of the time that Y/n had tried to touch Reggie's soulmate mark; something Y/n did to Luke to remind both of them that they were soulmates. He remembered the day Y/n had begged Reggie to realize what they were. To really know it and really FEEL it and Reggie... he had pushed Y/n's hand away and said something he'd regret the rest of his life, and even after that.
How could one hotdog take so much from him in one go?
It wasn't fair.
-
"Reggie..."
Immediately, Reggie felt his body tense. "Where's Luke?" was his reply.
With a careful tone, Y/n answered, "That's what I came to talk to you about." Reggie's body only grew more rigid, but that didn't stop him moving away with ease and much speed when he felt Y/n's fingers graze his shoulder. He had been doing that every single time Y/n touched him since... since... His hand twitched and he almost touched the mark he had been ignoring for weeks, but managed yet again not to. "Reg," Y/n whispered. His voice sounded so frail and weak. So desperate. It was enough to break Reggie down enough that he slowly turned around.
And then immediately regret it.
Y/n looked like he'd been wrung out and hung to dry up in the sun. His skin was a different color than usual, like he felt queasy or was sick. There were bags under his eyes, and a expression on his face that made Reggie's heart burn with a pain he wasn't prepared for. He looked like he had been crying instead of sleeping. "Y/n... what happened to you."
Immediately, Y/n's shoulders sagged. he looked so small and defeated that Reggie drew back even more. The very air around Y/n simmered with pain and ache. "I'm... trying to make this work. This thing with Luke and- and with you-"
"Don't include me in that," Reggie snapped. He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh, but his panic had gotten the better of him and he had sounded angry. Like he was accusing Y/n of something.
Y/n's vulnerability was crushed to dust, and his face hardened and his body began to shake every so slightly. Reggie felt the yelling coming before he could hear it, and immediately his head was full of night spent curled in bed, trying to sleep as he crushed his ears with pillows and blankets and even his own hands to try and make himself stop hearing the shouts down the hall.
Y/n never yelled. He hadn't yelled once.
Hearing him yell now was so terrible that Reggie was stunned into silence for a solid minute.
"GODDAMNIT REGGIE!" He shoot his hate, his face twisted and his hands curled into fists and for a terrible second he thought Y/n was going to hit him. And then he immediately didn't understand why, because Y/n forced his hands opened and the earnest desperation was back and despite his anger he was pleading, and in that moment Reggie realized what he should have known by now: Y/n would never hurt him. Y/n would never hurt ANYBODY. Reggie was the one causing pain, and it was to the softest, kindest person he had ever met. The person who felt more pain than anyone else Reggie knew, and who still refused to let it destroy him. When Y/n spoke again, Reggie felt terrible to hear how raw the words sounded. "I'm trying to make you understand. I- I-" His eyes watered and Reggie felt a part of him shatter. "I lo-"
"Don't you dare say it." It came out as a plead, soft and wet and corrupted by a primal fear that made Reggie feel sick to his stomach to hear.
Whatever Y/n had heard in those words, it had taken something vital from him. His face went slack and tears fell down his face. Slowly, one at a time. He just looked at Reggie like he'd been slapped, and Reggie wanted to run away but he was frozen in place. "Do you just not like me back? Is it just about Luke? Do you only-?"
"I don't like Luke," Reggie demanded, finding strength in his voice again.
"Yes you do!" Y/n insisted. "I KNOW you do Reggie! I know you do because I see the way your hands twitch when Luke is near you, like you're dying to touch him. I see the way you look at him when you think no one is paying attention. I know he keeps you awake on the nights you can't sleep, and I know he's been as close to home as you could get for years because you go to him every single time you're upset or lonely or unsure. You seek comfort in him when you're hurting and you look to him for direction when you're lost."
"Stop it," Reggie whispered, his fingers curling into claws, nails digging at his skin even through his jeans.
Y/n just kept going. "And I know he feels the same about you because he says your name like it's the most beautiful word he's ever said, and he touches you like it brings him peace, and he talks about you like your his favorite song, and he's driven so intensely to be close to you like you're a fire and he's freezing. I see the way he looks at you and if I had a penny for every time he mentioned your name when the two of us were hanging out alone, I wouldn't be-"
"STOP IT!" His hands flew up to cover his ears... but for some reason Y/n cringed away from him. It felt like a punch to the gut to realize that Y/n had the same reaction as Reggie's had earlier. Y/n had, for some reason, thought Reggie was going to hit him. A look of guilt crossed Y/n's face and Reggie knew exactly what he was thinking. Reggie would never do something like that.
Whatever Reggie had, Y/n had it too, and that somehow made it so much worse.
For a second, they just sat there in silence. But then Reggie lowered his hands, very slowly, and Y/n spoke. "Is it because of me? What I was before you guys met me? What I did?"
Reggie didn't have to ask what Y/n meant. He knew full well how Luke and Y/n had met, and what it had meant. He knew that Y/n was touchy about this topic. He knew that  it was something that Y/n had stressed about for a long time until he'd learned that Luke didn't really care or think about that stuff. How much it had been a relief for Y/n to get away from a life full of people and relationships that only wanted one thing from him. How nice it had been for him to get a break from meaningless interactions and one night stands and phone numbers he never bothered to keep.
Reggie also knew this had NOTHING to do with that. Reggie didn't care about Y/n's past, or how other people saw him. He knew better. He knew Y/n had a person. However, upon being given any other reason than the truth, Reggie's instinct was to take it and run. However, he knew this was worth than the truth. And for a split second he had to switch gears from accepting the excuse to dismissing it. He had to take just a fraction of a second to shut that down in his head, despite what his first thought had been.
It created a moment of hesitation.
A moment Y/n took as an answer.
Even when Reggie finally stuttered out an, "Of course not!" Reggie knew it was too late. Y/n stepped away from him, his face crumbling. The air had been knocked out of Reggie's body as he scrambled for something to say. "It's not Y/n I swear."
Y/n looked him dead in the eye. "Then what is it?" Reggie's mouth snapped shut. "Please Reggie, give me one other reason that makes sense. Tell me that it's not that you see me the same way everyone else does. That you're not just a little bit disgusted with me, and that's why you HATE the idea that we're soulmates. Tell me why it makes you so angry to think of being with Luke, when you're so obviously into him, if it's not because not even a little part of you think he's tainted because he's been with me even if it's not... like THAT."
Reggie did the worst thing he could have ever done.
He stayed silent.
He was too petrified to give Y/n the answer that could fix all of this. The answer that could clear the air. Maybe Y/n could help. Maybe they could make everything better. Maybe...
Whatever he'd been thinking it didn't matter, because the words didn't come out of his mouth and then the door to the studio opened and Luke was standing there, looking between them with eyes full of concern and confusion as the poor boy watched the two most important people in his life argue. Y/n went to leave, grabbing his bag as he made his way out of the studio, and Reggie let him walk away thinking something so damaging and wrong. Something that would ruin everything - all because Reggie was a coward.
-
"Mommy! Mommy! The angel helped me!" Reggie didn't even process it properly. It wasn't important. It didn't pertain to him. Why would he make note of it?
How wrong he was thinking that.
His mind was so focused on Bobby who was now Trevor, who had stolen their music. Who had stolen everything closest to Luke and hurt the man Reggie would anything for. Reggie was on a war path. He couldn't think about anything else until he heard Luke distinctly whisper in the softest, shakiest voice, "Y/n?"
Reggie's head whipped around to look at Luke, only for the action to repeat again as he quickly followed Luke's gaze to see....
Unable to help himself, Reggie gasped.
There was Y/n, in the exact same condition he'd been in the night he'd stormed out after arguing for Luke. That night was branded in Reggie's mind - he was sure Y/n was even wearing the same outfit. No... Y/n had never worn white while he was alive. Why was he decked head to toe in white?
The angel helped me! That was what the little girl had said. Had she been talking about Y/n? He saw the little girl, being pulled along by her mother, and that was when Reggie realized the child could SEE Y/n. In surprise, Reggie looked back at Y/n, and as if feeling his eyes, Y/n looked back at the same time. His eyes shot a mile wide, filling with even more hurt than had already been there just looking at Luke, who Reggie realized had been the target of his sad gaze before it had landed on him. The second their eyes met, Y/n was gone, disappearing in the same flash that he had seen Alex and Luke disappear in when they disappeared.
Luke fell to the knees, and Reggie felt the world crumble down with him.
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hopelessly-me · 3 years
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AO3 Tag Game
I was tagged my the lovely, amazing @noxnthea =) Thanks lovely.
1) How many works do you have on AO3? 100
2)What is your AO3 word total? 712,702
3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Only Marvel.
4) What are your top five fics by kudos?
Will Grant Wishes for coffee (rated T, has genie!Clint and normie!Bucky)
Putting Together the Pieces (rated T, both boys were mind wiped- Clint after New York and Bucky during Hydra days. And it's about them getting together)
I Want Something Just Like This (rated T, nurse!Clint and musician!Bucky)
This Love is Ours (rated T, Bucky accidentally spills the beans that Clint and him are in a relationship)
Not that bad afterall (rated T, the first fic I've ever written)
5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I love replying to comments because it's engaging for everyone. I thrive off of comments, I have even changed and added bits to my unfinished stories because of them. It just makes the experience all that more worth it.
6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Okay so I am a huge fan of angst, but I never (except for when I did whumptober) leave a fic on angst. Or at least I try to end them all with glimmers of hope for the future. I think the closest I have is Feathers and Notes only because you never find out about Bucky (it's a Amerihawk fic).
7) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have ever written? I haven't wrote a crossover. Maybe one day....
8) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not that I can remember? I think I received one that was could be taken as constructive criticism that I'm still a little confused about, but I've never received hate.
9) Do you ever write smut? If so, what kind? I have exactly one smut piece and it was to honor Squaddy in the weirdest way possible for her birthday. It was soft for the most part I guess? I am asexual and I lean more on the "sex makes no sense" side of things. I know this isn't all asexuals, but it definitely is to me.
10) Have you ever had a fic stolen? I very much doubt it.
11) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hmm, no. The idea of it kinda scares me? I'm a high stress person and I would be afraid of letting someone down. It takes a lot for me to do charity auctions because I'm scared for the same reason.
12) What's your all time favorite ship? Probably Clintasha to be honest. I like them romantically or in the platonic sense. Winterhawk is probably tied, but if I want to write something comforting, I drabble in Clintasha. (I used to have a gdoc with writing I have never posted and most of it was Clintasha. I think I deleted it though...)
13) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Marvel. I'm sure I've done rp's of Harry Potter (with OCs) and one that was a crossover between Black Jewel Trilogy (OCs) and Naruto (OCs), but never fics.
14) What's your favorite fic you've written? ... now this question is just evil. Feathers and Notes is one of my favorites though. Hurt comfort, so many possible outcomes. I also really liked "Red Vines and Peppermint sticks" for the same reason.
Tagging! @pherryt @verdantbogmoth @vexbatch @ialwayscomewhenyoucall @shatteredhourglass and whomever wants to do this fun stuff. =)
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thefanficmonster · 3 years
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Death’s Tales
The Curator (The Dark Pictures Anthology) x Reader (Female)
Warnings: None (Maybe slight spoilers and slight mentions of death)
Genre: Dark Theme, slight Angst
Summary: This isn’t Y/N’s first visit to the Curator’s repository. She’s visited two times so far and deep down she knows she’ll keep coming back. Stories have a way of trapping you in the place where they live. But then again, it’s nice to have some good company for when you are introduced to those stories. Someone to laugh with during all the humorous parts. And also someone to offer you tissues when you are going through the thick of the lives written on the pages of the many books.
Requested by Anon! Hi there! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, though I hope the fic makes up for the wait. I hope I captured what you had in mind. Please, enjoy. Love, Vy ❤❤❤
“Hello? You here?!“ Y/N calls out as she walks into familiar room. She immediately gets the feeling that she’s in the presence of a more intense power than she could explain - the power of all the timeless stories currently surrounding her. This is by no means her first tango with the deathless death turned into words written on thin, delicate pages for people to enjoy. She has always had an odd connection to each and every story she reads, so this place was the ultimate trap when she first wandered in, expectations low and head held high. She underestimated the repository, however, it didn’t take long for it to turn the tables on her with all it has to offer. In less than an hour, she had her nose buried in a book, her expectations exceeded by miles and her mind transported to a different place and time.
“Where else would I be?” The distinct voice she’s gotten so used to hearing replies from somewhere near by, “You know I rarely leave this place.”
 “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that’s a sad way to be spending your time. But man, if I could stay here all my life I would.“ She struts into the room where the reply came from.
He is indeed there, standing by one of the many shelves, a candleholder with lit handles in one hand, browsing the shelf’s contents with the other. He chuckles at her statement, brushing it off completely, “I was waiting for you. Have a seat, I’ll pick a story for you.”
She gets comfortable, unwrapping her scarf and shrugging off her jacket. Sitting down in one of the leather chairs opposite his desk, she crosses her legs and waits expectantly.
“Ah, there we go. ‘House Of Ashes’, how does that sound to you?” He pulls out a book, holding it under the candlelight for Y/N to see the cover with the title engraved in the, what seems to be, leather surface.
She frowns, scrunching her nose, “You know what, no. I’m tired of these sad and scary stories laced with death. I can’t live knowing I gave those characters a bad fate. I know it’s redo-able, but I can’t help but feel shitty afterwards.” She shifts in her seat, “First all those people left stranded on that boat! Then I was tricked into sympathizing and emotionally investing into characters that were nothing more than the product of a broken mind!” She gives him a glare that’s looking through him more than at him, “I think I deserve a different story this time. Something lighter.”
The older man chuckles. “I was gonna have you choose between this one and this other oldie I have,” he points at the desk where another book is already sitting, “it’s a longer story, I might have mentioned it before.” Y/N reads the title ‘The Impatient’ engraved in the olive green cover of the large book, “But that’s not in any way lighter either. I would even say it’s among the more depressive ones.“ He pauses for a second, returning ‘House Of Ashes’ in its spot, “Perhaps I could find a story of a less melancholic premise.”
“Wait.“ She lifts her hand, putting his actions to a halt, “Why don’t we change it up for once? How about you tell me a story instead of reading me one?“
He’s very clearly taken aback by this. “I’m afraid an old man like myself doesn’t have a lot to share. Especially not when I’ve spent a rather big chunk of my life in this very place, doing this very thing.”
Y/N shakes her head, “Quite the contrary, mister Curator. I believe you have way more stories than all the people my age combined.” She smirks, “Don’t worry, I won’t tattle if you have some dirt on your name. What is it? Robbery? Fraud? Murder?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I am not that interesting.“ He chuckles, settling in his chair. “But I believe I could tell you the story of the only time I helped someone directly rather than through the riddles you hate so much.“
She’s clearly pleased with the outcome of her protest. She gives him a smile, “I’m all ears.“
He can’t help but shake his head at her child-like enthusiasm for something so simple. He’s determined to make it worth her while, so he digs through the contents of his brain, looking for the most interesting memories he has stored there - the ones that would entertain her. Eventually, he comes up with one.
“Have I ever mentioned my dear friend Alan to you, by any chance?“
Y/N thinks for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, but as usual, you were very vague.”
He chuckles, “I know you hate not being given details, so I’m gonna make sure not to leave anything out.” He absentmindedly picks up the pen on his desk, twirling it between his fingers, “Well, a brief introduction to our character Alan: he’s a psychiatrist. A year or two younger than me. He’s from Calgary. I met him in my mid-thirties, when I was still what some would consider young.” He smiles at the pleasant memory.
Y/N fakes shock, placing a hand over her chest, “You mean to tell me there was time when you, the Curator, were young? You can’t be serious. I refuse to believe that.”
“I was. And I was quite handsome, mind you.“ He takes out his wallet, opening it and handing it to Y/N. On the right, covered by a thin layer of clear plastic is a black and white photo of two men in their early to mid forties.
“You’re the one on the left, right?” She asks, staring at the photo wide eyes, looking up at him for confirmation. He nods in response. “Wow, I honestly wouldn’t have recognized you.” 
“Understandably so. Time has really taken a toll on me.“ He actually looks saddened when he says that. She can tell that was less a joke and more the truth.
“I wouldn’t say so.“ She tells him sincerely, a small genuine smile on her lips.
He returns her smile, his eyes becoming a bit livelier. “Him and I are still friends till this day. He’s a walking book of stories, I’m sure you’d like him if you ever get the chance to meet him. You see, he has spoken to me about all his patients, never once naming one of them. Until this on young man had come into his office. He was struggling with issues medicine in and of itself couldn’t completely fix. His name was Joshua. The boy was having a really tough time dealing with the loss of his sisters.” He sighs at the memory, “Alan told me he tried everything. He tried all things his years of practice and work have taught him but the boy was slowly sinking further and further down into the void of his mind.“
His voice is way different from his usual narrator tone. You can hear the weight of the events he’s reciting in every syllable that leaves his lips. She is now an accomplice, exactly like if she were there when it all happened.
“It was troubling my friend to the brink of madness, I couldn’t just stand aside and watch that. Also that kind young man, Joshua, deserved a lot better than what life was giving him. Every branch that poor boy held onto snapped. Everything he ever tried to make of himself crumbled. I admired him for the fact that he kept trying and seeking a way to succeed. What he failed to see was the obvious need for help he had. He was longing for a helping hand but no one noticed, or they simply didn’t care. Except this one girl. Her name was Samantha. She saw right through his act. But he never allowed her helping hand to reach him. He never wanted to be a weight on her shoulders. Never wanted to be nor the bump in her road nor the baggage she carried while walking it. So, I stepped in. I taught him the importance of having someone by your side, and taught her the importance of never giving up on someone who means a lot to you. Luckily for themselves and for Alan and I, they listened.“
“Forget about Alan, I want to meet Joshua and Samantha. I want to meet them and give them a big hug.“ Y/N says, her mind wandering to the images she has compiled. A broken boy and a girl with the strength to carry both her and his world in her arms. She can quite see their face, but she can picture their auras, their energies. They feel so real to her, and all just from the Curator’s words alone.
Soon enough, her eyelids start giving out, her eyes fluttering closed. She’s fighting to the best of her ability to stay awake, see this story to its end, but the Curator’s storytelling and the dark, candlelit room aren’t helping her with the battle. Her mind is drifting further and further into the land where the story she’s being told will keep expanding with elements added by her imagination. She’s certain she’ll dream of this tale.
“Oh you’re already clocking out, huh?“ The Curator chuckles, pausing his story mid-sentence.
“Can’t help it.“ Y/N mumbles, already more than half asleep, “Just tell me how it ends, you’ll fill in the gaps when I wake up.“
“Well, it hasn’t ended yet. I can tell you where it’s at at the moment.“ She hums approvingly, “It’s been five years since I stepped in and now they are happily married. They have a little one on the way. A little girl, I believe.“
A lazy smile forms on her face. “That’s nice.” the words leave her lips in the form of a sleepy sigh moments before she has been dragged into the deepest crevasses of her mind and imagination.
The Curator calmly and quietly gets up, taking his jacket from the coatrack. He drapes it over the girl asleep in the armchair on the other side of his desk. Little does this college student know, he has seen both her past and future. He has met her in several different periods of her life. She’s been like her own personal guardian angel. In her past-lives too.
Guardian angel of death.
He was lucky to have met Alan before that curse was bestowed upon him - making the psychiatrist the only man he could interact with without bringing him a sooner than anticipated and inevitable demise. He wasn’t completely honest with Y/N about the time frame of meeting the other man, but that was not an important piece of information. She could do without it. He used the only hall-pass he had to do his old friend a favor - settle the storms that raged between Joshua and Samantha. And now, he’s locked away from the world, waiting for souls to come to him instead of the other way around.
Nowadays, he just stays hidden from people and only meets with those who wander into his repository. It’s always the same pattern: they come in, not really sure how they ended up there; He coaches them through a story they think they have some sort of impact on; and then they leave and never come back.
Color the man surprised when he saw her walk in the first time. It took him no time to connect the dots, he’d recognize her anywhere. She wasn’t clueless like the others, she actually seemed like she was looking for the place. He spent the next week or so feeling like he had failed the only purpose he had - to keep her safe. That was until she showed up again, even cheerier than the first time. That’s when he knew he shouldn’t fear for her, for she was a phenomenon beyond his understanding. A soul never in death’s reach.
“I hope you never get to see the same fate as everyone else who meets me.“ He whispers, looking down at her sleeping form.
He knows she’s special. After all, he never has never met anyone more than once.
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Text
Vivaldi on Full Volume
Summary: Spencer's done enough pining, so he decides to write a letter for Aaron telling him exactly how he feels and gives it to him on the jet. He cannot be held responsible for what happens when they land.
Tags: Love Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurity, My Typical CM Characterisation: Protective Aaron, Shy Spencer oops
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Word Count: 5.2k
Read on Ao3
The Love Letter, Uninterrupted
Spencer’s hands are shaking as he gets up from his seat in the corner of the jet. They’re 40 minutes away from landing, deliberately planned well in advance: everyone’s well and truly settled, there isn’t long to wait for a private conversation and people haven’t woken up to prepare for landing yet. This is well thought out, he tells himself, trying to be convincing. There isn’t much that can go wrong.
Except there absolutely is. He’s run all the possible outcomes over and over in his head, at night, on the jet, spare moments in cases; he knows pretty much every possibility in and out. The worst case scenario, of course, is Aaron flips and hurts him or never talks to him again, but he knows logically that this is unlikely. No, the most likely situation is a polite rejection and a rift in their relationship, but it’s a risk he has to take. This limbo is too painful to exist in forever: he has to give himself a chance at happiness, and if that doesn’t happen he needs a chance to get over him. 
Aaron is, predictably, sitting on his own at the other end of the jet, getting a head start on his paperwork. He’d shot Spencer a questioning look when he’d opted to sit on his own instead of opposite or next to him, but everyone knows that Spencer sometimes needs a moment to himself and after he’d responded with a reassuring smile, Aaron had smiled back and looked down. 
“Reid,” he greets him as he looks up from the plethora of forms and files and reports littering the table in front of him, that questioning look returning and bleeding into his voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks after Spencer stands there frozen for a moment, shaking him out of his head and reminding him of his mission. 
“Yeah, sorry,” he says softly, chuckling a little. “Here. Can you do me a favour and… read this for me? All the way to the end? Leave your questions for the end, and we can talk once we land.” He hands him the pretty stationery wrapped in a tissue paper envelope. The seal is a deep navy that had reminded Spencer of Aaron the moment he saw it in the shop, and he used it even though he knew it would tear the tissue and was utterly pointless. His hands still shake a little as he passes it over, but he doesn’t blame himself. Anyone would be nervous. This isn’t just a Spencer thing.
Once Aaron has the letter in his hands he turns it, looking it over, before meeting Spencer’s anxious gaze with his own steady one, now filled with growing curiosity. “Of course,” he says, indulgently. It’s one of Spencer’s favourite things about him, his stoicism in the face of a surprise. He doesn’t react in a way that might further upset somebody when they share something with him, and it makes him an excellent leader. 
Spencer shoots him another nervous but meaningful smile, the kind he uses with his friends, with Henry, with people he cares about. People he’s been in love with for five years. Whatever. 
He turns away and doesn’t look back.
Aaron struggles to contain his curiosity long enough to wait until Spencer is settled back in his seat on the other side of the plane. This must be why he’d chosen to sit somewhere other than next to him on this flight which had admittedly confused him a little, Spencer usually liked the familiarity and comfort of sitting next to him. He’d suspected he needed space but now it seems as though he was psyching himself up to hand this letter to him. 
It’s not a resignation letter, Aaron is fairly certain of that, Spencer would never use such beautiful stationery and a seal in his favourite colour for something so straightforward and professional. He’d also given him one of those heart-warmingly open and trusting smiles before turning back, even if it was a little anxious. This is something personal. 
Finally giving into his curiosity, he carefully opens the handmade envelope and pulls out the letter written on high-quality paper in Spencer’s delicate script. 
Aaron,
I have debated sitting down and putting pen to paper to write this letter for a long time, much less handing it to you to read. This is perhaps the most forward thing I have ever done, and you will understand that it is also the bravest. I know I am crossing a line in writing this. I have never been one to break the rules, it's something we have in common, isn't it? We're both straight arrows. Perhaps I am hoping for too much. I am not the object of many's desire and maybe it is foolish to hope that someone as amazing as you could possibly be the exception, but if I don't get it out of my system I'm afraid this secret may bubble up and swallow me whole, its acidic aftertaste never quite leaving my mouth.
Immediately, Aaron’s heart starts beating out of his chest. Spencer rarely calls him Aaron -- the whole team operates on a largely last-name only basis -- but he’d be lying if those infrequent times when his first name leaves Spencer’s lips don’t make his heart flutter and insides warm. His face betrays him, he knows, but this might just be everything he’s been hoping to hear for the last four years and the team is asleep or preoccupied right now, thanks to Spencer’s clearly well-planned timing. He can afford to let his guard down a little.
His stomach clenches, though, when he sees Spencer’s insecurity bleeding into his writing, the ink revealing his painful self-doubt where his lips keep them tightly sealed away. He’s absolutely everything Aaron is craving, and if others can’t see that then it’s their own loss. He knows, though, that Spencer is too oblivious for his own good: the rest of the team don’t miss the looks he gets when they go out for drinks, but Spencer does. Spencer could get anyone he wants, even if he doesn’t realise it, and the honour of being the chosen person isn’t lost on him.
The truth of the matter is we live dangerous lives. This plane could crash, one of us could get shot, stabbed, blown up and not survive it next time. I need to take advantage of the fact that right now we are alive, and if there is any chance that I could live my life alongside yours then I must take it.
That makes Aaron let out a small, breathy laugh. He’d thought the same exact thing so many times, but Spencer was a lot braver than he was. Even if it didn’t have the potential for a sexual harrassment suit and the loss of his job, he’s not sure he’d have the bravery to tell Spencer just how in love with him he is. Not in a letter written with a fountain pen on pretty stationery, not to his face, not in front of others, not alone. Spencer has guts he’d lost a long time ago. A risky job had led to a tightly controlled personal life. He plays it safe. Spencer doesn’t.
Here is what I want:
I want to throw caution to the wind and live vicariously with you. Let's eat pancakes for dinner, drive down the interstate with the windows down and listen to Vivaldi on full volume, let's hold hands in the street in Virginia and say fuck it to anybody who has a problem with it. I want to get stuck in your head the way you're stuck in mine: when you're doing paperwork, I want to be in the back of your head. I want to excite you when you think of me naked, when you think of me spread out beneath you. Not a moment goes by where I don't think of you, Aaron. I wish I was on your mind in the same way.
Aaron’s face breaks out into a much wider smile. Oh, God, Spencer, he thinks, sending his eyes to the ceiling of the jet. You have no idea. Spencer doesn’t have to wish for this, to crave such a thing, it’s already happening. It feels like paperwork takes twice as long as it used to do before he fell in love with Spencer. It’s not even limited to his job: doing laundry, washing the dishes, cooking dinner, driving Jack to a soccer match, watching TV -- everything he does is consumed by thoughts of Spencer.
And Jesus Christ have mercy, the thought of Spencer spread out naked beneath him, what he looks like under those conservative button ups and cardigans, plays out behind his eyelids far too often. It’s made him feel like a pervert for years, fantasising about his much younger coworker and wondering what he likes in bed, how he could make him feel good. The idea that the same thoughts about him fill Spencer’s brain has him weak at the knees and hot under the collar. Of course he chose the jet to do this, he thinks amusedly. 
Let's find new TV shows and movies together! There's nothing I'd like more than to cuddle up against your chest after a hard case and watch something that we both enjoy, that gives us a sense of comfort and familiarity. On the weekends, let's get dressed up and visit fancy restaurants only to have a cheap crepe at the end of the night before rushing back home to get undressed again. I want to be yours, and I want you to prove that to the world.
Aaron’s heart is melting slowly, dripping down the inside of his chest, he’s sure of it. He’s walked into his apartment after a hard case feeling empty and defeated, wishing Spencer was there to give him a hug and take away the pain far too many times. It only ever made him feel worse, the belief that that would never happen, it never could happen, only now he’s being proved wrong. 
He already knows the first place he’ll take Spencer. Rossi had treated him to dinner there once after Haley passed away, and the ambience and seafood paella had wedged itself firmly into his mind. He’d fantasised many times about how Spencer’s eyes would look in the soft lighting, how he’d laugh in the relaxed setting, how he’d feel spoiled and loved when Aaron footed the bill, ignoring his protests. His heart feels full and bursting at the thought that soon these ideas might not be as far-fetched as he’d convinced himself for so long. He wishes he could see Spencer right now, but he knows he’s probably panicking quietly in the corner, and he was told to save his questions for the end. He’ll play on his terms, especially since it was Spencer who’d had the bravery to do this in the first place.
My biggest fear in writing this letter, though, may not be that you simply won't return my affections, but that you're still in love with Haley. I could never seek to replace her, but I know how deeply you loved her and how painful the wounds of your grief still are. I hope you know, Aaron, that if you do love me back, I'm not jealous of Haley. Not at all. I respect her and I respect your grief.
He can’t help the stab of pain in his gut at the mention of Haley. He’d loved her so deeply and he knew the team was acutely aware of that, Spencer probably more than anybody else if this letter was anything to go by. It strikes him then, just how kind Spencer is. He’s always known it on some level, of course, but the selfless compassion and love for the people around him is so overwhelming when he takes a moment to properly comprehend it. He could have glossed over his late wife in such a letter, but instead he chose to promise Aaron that he could share his heart with Haley. He knows Spencer will keep such a promise. 
I've tried for years to hide the way I feel, Aaron. I went on dates to try and get over you, I dodged you in the break room and bullpen to avoid conversing with you which only made my infatuation worse each time, I feigned plans to get out of family nights because seeing you in a casual setting is so cuttingly painful. I can't hide it anymore, though. I'd rather transfer out of the BAU than continue in this limbo of awkward pining. If you hate me, that's okay, I can deal with that. But there isn't much I don't know, and not knowing this? It's agonising.
Aaron’s stomach clenches again. He wishes they hadn’t been pining all these years so Spencer didn’t have to exist in the parallel of his own realm of wistful agony. The thought of him avoiding him in the break room with the empty ache of unrequited love filling his insides, believing he could never have him when Aaron had been doing the same thing is almost laughable: they were both so oblivious.
Seeing Spencer dressed in jeans and a t-shirt last year when Morgan had invited them all to one of his renovation projects had tortured him for weeks afterwards, and now he was being told that he’d done the same to him; Spencer had gone home after those gatherings and thought about him casual and relaxed, unbuttoned polo shirts and all. It’s almost unbearable. 
It’s reassuring, though, to know Spencer is as committed to this hypothetical as he is. Aaron would leave the BAU, too, if it came to it. If it meant he got to come home to Spencer and cuddle him on the sofa with history documentaries playing on the TV that Spencer was subconsciously memorising and would repeat the next time it was even slightly relevant in conversation. If it meant he could smile knowingly, and wrap an arm around his oblivious boyfriend’s waist, proving to the world that Spencer was his, just like he asked. 
The only way to end this letter is with hope. Any answer you give me I will respect, but I am holding out hope that you will say all this back to me, that you will write your own love letter or profess your own love. That you have similar fantasies and daydreams about me, that you've thought of all these things, too. Thank you for reading this all the way through, Aaron. All that's left to say are five simple words:
I'm in love with you.
Spencer.
Aaron reads the letter over once more before folding it carefully and placing it back in the envelope. He’s completely floored, to be honest. The last thing he expected after a fairly straight-forward case in Seattle was a love confession from the man he’d been in love with since before Haley even passed away, but he’s going to take it and run with it, consequences be damned. 
The plane starts to descend and the rest of the team begin rousing from their naps or putting their books down as chatter starts to rise. “Right,” Aaron says, grabbing everyone’s attention, though Spencer keeps himself carefully tucked away in the corner. “We should have the next few days off though we are on standby, okay? Everyone get some rest, make sure you come back refreshed and ready to tackle the next case. Don’t forget your reports though, have them emailed to me or on my desk by Monday.” He gives everyone a tight smile before turning away as conversations resumed. 
He knows Spencer is tormenting himself by analysing every cadence in his voice, trying to gauge his reaction and he longs to walk over to him and kiss his anxieties away, but he can’t. Spencer specifically asked him to wait until they landed, and he can’t reveal anything to the team so early, certainly not without discussing it first. Instead, he sits back in his seat, abandoning the paperwork in front of him in favour of fighting the fond, excited smile off his face and imagining his first kiss with Spencer, the anticipation making it so much more intense now that it’s actually real.
Time, as it always does, passes, however slowly. They eventually land and Aaron schools his face as the rest of the team pour out onto the tarmac. “Right everyone, I’ll see you in a few days but keep your phones on in case we get called up,” he calls once they’re all off the plane. As everyone starts to peel off to the garage or the office, he turns to Spencer, still keeping his face straight for the sake of others around them. “How about we go to my place and talk.”
“That sounds good,” Spencer says, small smile taking the edge off the anxiety on his face. 
The car ride back to Aaron’s apartment is quiet. “I don’t need to pick Jack up until the morning, so it’s just us tonight,” he explains, and Spencer is relieved to see his face soften significantly now they’re alone. He allows a dash of hope to flare in his chest before forcing himself to temper his expectations. You don’t know anything yet. He could be letting you down easy, this could be a pity thing. His fingers drum anxiously against his thigh as Aaron drives, eyes focused straight on the road, his face still unreadable. God, does he have to be so sexy when he drives? 
Just like the time on the plane, though, the time in the car eventually passes, the tension thick between them by the time Aaron pulls into his apartment complex. He smiles gently at Spencer as he takes the key out of the ignition. “Shall we head up?” he asks, and Spencer’s floored at what he sees in his face: he’s wearing the expression he only pulls when he looks at Jack or the team as a whole on a relaxed evening out. To see it directed at him exclusively is a kind of intensity he isn’t prepared for and it bowls him over for a second. 
“Yeah,” Spencer laughs breathily. “Sorry, yeah. Let’s go up.” 
The apartment door closing behind them sounds way too loud to Spencer and, sick of the tension, he decides to try and clear the air. “Look, Aaron, Hotch, can you just tell me--”
He’s cut off by Aaron’s lips pressing firmly against his own, a hand coming to rest on his waist while another grips his face gently. It takes him a second to catch up before he’s kissing back, overwhelmed by the feeling of Aaron’s hands on his body, the very hands he’s admired for years, the hands he’s fantasised about, the hands that make him feel things. He reaches up to place his own on Aaron’s chest, feeling the broadness there, the strength in the body against his making him weak at the knees. 
Aaron pulls away eventually. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, voice as breathless as Spencer feels. 
“Me too,” he replies, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Maybe… maybe we should do it again.” He smiles shyly at Aaron before leaning in again, this time gasping a little as Aaron pushes him back against the door for leverage, tracing his hand up and down Spencer’s sides, making him tremble in his grip.
“God, Spencer, you’re so damn breathtaking,” Aaron says in between fervent kisses. “Literally.” They both giggle into each others’ mouths at that, relief filling both of them up to the brim as the knowledge that finally, finally, their pining is over sets in. This could be it, they could build something real. 
“Aaron,” Spencer moans, trembling more as Aaron presses himself closer, right hand moving to grip the back of his neck gently, holding him firmly against his body. It overwhelms Spencer a bit, feeling completely surrounded by a man who was so unattainable for so long, by the person he’s been in love with for years. 
It was completely involuntary, but it makes Aaron pull away, resting his forehead against Spencer’s as they both breathe deeply. “We should talk,” he says softly, pressing a final chaste kiss to Spencer’s lips before pulling back completely and taking his hand, leading him to the sofa. 
“Could I have a blanket or something?” Spencer asks shyly, looking sheepish. “I’m a bit chilly.”
He sees realisation dawn on Aaron’s face along with a little bit of guilt. “Of course, Spencer,” he says. “Sorry this is so backwards. Do you want anything else? Something to eat or drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says lightly. “Let’s talk and then we could order some dinner?” 
“Sounds perfect,” he smiles, reaching over into a cupboard and bringing out a thick, fluffy blanket. He drapes it over Spencer and makes sure he’s completely comfortable before sitting down opposite him on the sofa himself. “So. Your letter.”
Spencer ducks his head, a light flush tinting his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t know how else to say it?” he says, a question colouring his voice. 
“No, I’m not criticising you,” Aaron rushes to clarify. “It’s possibly the most romantic, beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me, and the truth is, Spencer, I’m in love with you, too.”
Spencer’s head darts up, wide, earnest eyes meeting Aaron’s serious gaze. “You are?” he asks, voice filled with the surprised sort of wonderment that always betrays him whenever any sort of love or affection is revealed to him.
“I am,” Hotch chuckles fondly. “Very much so. I’ve loved you since before Haley passed, to be honest. I’ve done all the things you wrote in your letter, too; I want all the same things you do.”
Spencer’s blush darkens a bit at that, remembering… certain parts… of his letter that he hopes Aaron includes in that statement. “All of it?” His voice is a little squeaky, almost cracking as he clears his throat at the awkwardness. 
“Yeah,” Aaron grins cheekily, loving that he can appreciate the blush on Spencer’s cheeks openly now. There’s no more room for hiding. “All of it.” 
Spencer clears his throat again. “So, is this what you want? Me? A relationship?” he asks, still a little uncertain, not quite secure in the fact that Aaron won’t back off and say this was an experiment, he’s not really committed in the same way Spencer is. 
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Aaron says earnestly. “I want you. I want everything that comes with you, I want the highs and lows of a relationship, I want commitment, I want fun, I want seriousness. Spencer, will you be my boyfriend?” 
Spencer’s brain short circuits for a second before he looks up with the widest smile, one usually reserved for Henry, the kind that reveals unadulterated, unconditional love. “Yes,” he whispers as he launches himself across the sofa and into Aaron’s arms, resting his head on his chest as he revels in the comfort of that exact moment. Finally, though, the extreme emotions of the evening catch up with him and he can’t quite fight them off anymore, maybe his brain is finally convinced that he doesn’t have to, that he’s safe here. Whatever the reason, he can’t help the tears that start to leak from his eyes, or the sobs that softly wrack his shoulders. 
“Spencer,” Aaron whispers back, voice dripping in concern. “Spencer, what’s wrong?” 
“It’s just… it happened,” he tries to explain through his snivelling. “What I hoped for… at the end of my letter. I wrote ‘I am holding out hope that you will say all this back to me, that you will write your own love letter or profess your own love. That you have similar fantasies and daydreams about me, that you've thought of all these things, too.’ And you did. You do.”
“Yeah,” Aaron says, struck with awe, too. “It’s pretty overwhelming for me, too.”
They lie like that for a while longer, finding comfort in one another’s arms, the weight of Spencer weighing Aaron down in a way that feels like security and Aaron’s arms wrapping around him in a way that gives him all the comfort and protection he craves.
Eventually, Spencer picks his head up and meets Aaron’s tired eyes. It had been a long case and an emotionally exhausting evening, and it was nearing midnight. “Shall I order some pizza?” he asks, playing with the tie Aaron was still wearing, slightly loosened but still sexy enough for Spencer to very much appreciate. 
“Please,” he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “I can’t believe I just get to do that now.”
Spencer hums in content. “Well, by all means, Mr Hotchner, do it again,” he says in a sultry tone.
Aaron groans. “You’d better not talk like that, Spencer, or we’ll never get our pizza.” 
“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles. “You get us some drinks and get the telly set up. I’ll be right back.” 
Aaron closes the curtains, turns off the overhead light and turns on some lamps and lights some candles. Spencer raises an eyebrow at that and he puts his hands up defensively. “What? They’re cosy!” Spencer giggles at that, kissing him again. 
“Can we put the history channel on?” Spencer asks while Aaron turns the TV on and fiddles with the volume. 
“Wouldn’t expect anything less, sweetheart.” Spencer ducks his head and blushes, insides warming and tingling at the affection. He’s still not entirely sure this isn’t a dream. Aaron, unfortunately, doesn’t miss it. “Aw, are you blushing? Do you like that, you like it when I call you sweetheart?” he teases, smiling warmly at Spencer, clearly relishing in the deep red colour of his face. “Or is it just any pet name? You like it when I call you pretty names, baby?”
Spencer nearly outright moans at that but manages to stifle it, not that it makes much of a difference in Aaron’s delighted expression. “Stop, Aaron,” he whines in a manner that conveys he would very much not like Aaron to stop. 
“God, baby, you are too much to handle,” he groans, leaning across the sofa to pull Spencer away from his perch against the corner and into his chest. They lay quietly like that for a few minutes while the history channel plays a documentary about the Battle of Trafalger, breathing deep and slow as they appreciate this little slice of serenity while they wait for their dinner to arrive.
Once their pizza boxes are empty and they’ve finally had something to eat, Aaron turns to Spencer who’s meticulously wiping the pizza grease on his fingers away with a napkin, making him smile fondly. “Hey, Spence?” he asks, grabbing the attention of the younger man. “I wanted to talk to you about something you wrote in your letter.” 
Spencer looks a little bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights, hesitant as to what Aaron is about to say. What if he was mortally offended by something, or he didn’t like something I wrote? Was I too forward?
“First of all, I’ll always love Haley, but in a distant, wistful kind of way that I can’t quite explain. She’s been gone for a while now and I’ve moved on,” he explains, and Spencer’s flush returns. It’s one thing to write the letter, hell, it’s one thing to hand it to Aaron, but it’s another thing entirely to discuss the ins and outs of his heart in such graphic detail. “I fell in love with you very slowly, but I’d realised it around four months before Haley died. I’ll grant you that in the following year I didn’t really have much time or emotional capacity to dwell on it but it was always there in the back of my mind, and it’s only intensified over the last two years.”
“Really?” The flush is still firmly rooted to Spencer’s face, but his eyes are wide now, staring into Aaron’s with an earnest sort of intensity. “I had no idea.”
“Well I had no idea that you wanted everything I did, either,” Aaron chuckles. “Instead we’ve just been existing in a state of perpetual mutual pining and if you hadn’t had the bravery to do what you did, maybe we never would have known.”
“It was rather brave,” Spencer smiles, joking a bit, but they both know it’s the truth. “I’ve been in love with you since the Tobias Hankel situation. After you understood me and knew how to find me, how you saved my life. It spiralled from there and no effort to try and get over you has succeeded.”
“Mmm you mentioned,” Aaron hums. “I must say, I’m a bit jealous of these other dates you speak of.”
“Well you shouldn’t be,” Spencer says. “They didn’t hold a candle to you, and the few that made it past the first couple of dates knew that all too well.”
Aaron chuckles lightly at that before they settle into a comfortable silence, the TV still playing the background. “Do you want to stay here tonight?” he asks, voice low and a bit unsure. “No funny business, I just… don’t want to let you go yet.”
“Me neither,” Spencer says honestly. “Of course I’ll stay.” He can hear his voice still sounds a little squeaky, still vulnerable in this new situation. 
Aaron smiles back and turns the lights and TV off, blowing out the candles before offering a hand to Spencer as they make their way to his room. 
“Oh,” Spencer says, stopping in his tracks as soon as they step into Aaron’s bedroom. “I left my go bag in the car.”
“I’m sure we can find a solution to that,” Aaron smirks, pushing the bedroom door closed with his left hand and crowding him up against it with his right, diving for his neck. Spencer moans high in his throat, pressing forward further into Aaron’s hold. “You can wear one of my shirts. God, I’ve fantasised about you in my clothes for years, baby.” 
“So… so possessive,” Spencer teases through Aaron’s kisses.
“Yeah, you love it.”
“I do. I love you.”
That gets Aaron to pull away, looking deep into Spencer’s eyes, awe filling his gaze. “I love you, too. Fuck it feels so good to hear that, to finally say that.”
“I know.” Spencer’s blushing slightly, the forwardness of his remark embarrassing him slightly. 
“Come on,” Aaron says, pressing one final kiss to Spencer’s lips. “Let’s get ready for bed. I’ll find you a top and I know I have a spare toothbrush around here somewhere…”
Spencer smiles, sitting on the bed as he watches Aaron bustle around the room, finding the stuff he needs for the night. This could be it, he thinks. This could be my life now. Domesticity had never much appealed to Spencer, but sitting there now as Aaron chatters away about the visit to the shopping centre that has resulted in buying the top he tosses Spencer’s way, he knows he was right to change his mind. He was right to crave this, to crave pancakes for dinner and new TV shows and lazy mornings.
And when they’re finally cuddled up in bed, warm under the covers and safe in one another’s arms, he knows he was right to share that craving with Aaron. 
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captain-jensen · 3 years
Text
Everything Else is Extra
Chris Evans x childless!reader
Summary: You and Chris have been friends for a long time. One night you both confess your feelings for each other, however there’s a couple things that could get in the way. Age and life goals, what will be the outcome?
Warnings: Angst, childless reader (if you do want children then this probably isn’t for you), age gap. 
Author’s note: WOW has it been a long time since I’ve written anything so I am so sorry if this is shit. I’ve been going through it lately so I just wanted to escape and write a story I’ve been wanting to for a while. I have loved every fic I’ve read but I haven’t found any fics where the reader has this mindset and I know I can’t be the only one who has these feelings as well. So I hope you like this if you have the same opinion! Sorry it’s pretty long but I just wanted to make sure everything was explained properly. The dialogue is also pretty cheesy but it’s angst sooo whatever.
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             It was like any other movie night for yourself and Chris. Sitting on the couch (maybe a bit too close together), watching ‘The Little Mermaid’, and eating and drinking the night away. This is a regular occurrence, and has been for the past 4 years of yours and Chris’ friendship. After drunkenly singing a long to every song in the movie you two sit in silence browsing for another Disney classic to watch. “So... karaoke?” Chris suddenly asks, breaking the silence.
         “That sounds like a damn good plan Evans! Hook it up!” you exclaim loudly, always loving a good karaoke session while drunk. You guys browse the songs for a couple of minutes before deciding to do a duet of ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’. Singing passionately and loudly you and Chris get lost in the music dancing together and laughing. By the end of the song your eyes are locked into each others. You feel your feet carry you towards him slowly as he does the same. The microphones of the machine are long forgotten as you gaze at him, and him at you. You can’t even remember the first time you thought about doing this, thought about just staring at him for a while as you fall more and more in love with him. It’s been 4 years of longing for you, pining, never ever thinking about the idea that he might just be doing the same. Oh but he was, all these years Chris had been quietly admiring you, watching you go through shitty breakup after shitty breakup. But he never even hinted at the fact that he wanted to be with you since you were 12 years younger than him. It pained him, having to watch love treat you poorly. He wanted more than anything to change that for you, but what would people think? He wasn’t exactly lining up to be the next Leonardo DiCaprio, only dating women much younger than himself. At the same time however, he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to you, everything about you. You’re strong, independent, happy, funny, and the most caring person he had ever met. You were but a forbidden fruit to him though, never able to get close enough to taste. Or so he thought. 
      Both of you broke out of your thoughts that were moving a mile a minute, now incredibly close. So close you can smell the beer on his breath the he the wine on yours. Without another thought you moved in at the same time as him and your lips met in the middle. A soft but passionate kiss, nothing hungry or starved, just sweet, tender, and full of love. You’re the one to break the kiss, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt and embarrassment. Your face feels hot as you turn away from him to quickly grab your jacket to leave. 
“Wait where are you going?” He asks, still slightly out of breath.
“That shouldn’t have happened, I’m so sorry Chris” you try to explain with a shaky voice.
“I think it should have. Y/N, I’ve been wanting to that for so long now”
“No, you’re just drunk. You get emotional when you’re drunk” You try to reason with yourself more so than with him.
“That’s not true. Can we at least talk about it?” He grabs your elbow, trying with all his might to anchor you to him. 
“No. not tonight at least. I’m leaving.” And with that you walk out of his living room and out the front door. Not worrying about a cab until you’ve calmed yourself down. You absorb everything. The softness of his lips, the warmth of his hands as he cupped your face, his smell, and lastly his words. Had he actually meant what he said? Or was he just being drunkenly over dramatic and slightly horny? Clearing your head you call for a cab to take you home and hopefully sleep off this confusing feeling you had, and the misplaced hope that the kiss brought you. 
       Laying in your bed finally, you check your phone and see no text from Chris. Which stands out because he normally checks in with you to make sure you made it home alright. Although, given the circumstance, you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to you. You embarrassed yourself by kissing him but you embarrassed yourself even more by running away like a schoolgirl after. You couldn’t help it though. You couldn’t build yourself up enough to kiss him again because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop, and you knew that even if you both enjoyed it, it would have spelt heartbreak at the end. Having known Chris for a few years, you knew what he wanted in life. He’s talked about it in interviews and to you personally. He wanted a family. He wanted to get marry to a pretty woman who is good at cooking and wants children. That just isn’t you, getting married sure, but being a mother was something you always knew you didn’t want. You could just never bring yourself to give up so much of your own life and own identity to be a parent. You don’t despise motherhood or demean women who want that life, it just isn’t made for you. This was always one of the main reasons you never told Chris how you felt. You know that even if you were to pursue a relationship it could never last forever solely because of your different goals and values. Although you made peace with this fact early on in your friendship, you start to feel that emotional dam breaking and all those feelings of longing and pain flooding back. But you push them aside and decide to sleep, letting the sober you deal with these problems tomorrow.
       Waking late into the morning the next day you feel your head pound lightly with the aftermath of the wine and crying. Not wanting to deal with the day and whatever came with it you decide to have a leisurely hangover day consisting of greasy food, ice cream, and romance movies to mend what you assumed to be a broken and flustered heart.
        About 3 hours into your drowsy hibernation and only at about 30% functionality you hear a knock at the door. Assuming its the Chinese food you ordered, you hop off the couch and run towards the door ready to put yourself into a food coma. When you open the door you instead find a tall handsome blue eyed best friend. “Chris, hi.”
“Why haven’t you called me back?” was the first thing he said
“I turned my phone off for a mental health day” you explained simply.
“Ok well I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. I want to talk about this with you” he said, almost desperately as he pushed by you lightly making his way into your apartment. 
“Chris last night was an accident on both of our parts. So let’s just forget that it happened and move on with our lives ok?” 
“No I can’t just forget about it Y/N! That was a special moment for both of us, I know it. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of though. That’s what we need to talk about”
“I’m afraid of reality Chris! Ok? I’m afraid of the way our relationship would turn out. Because I know for a fact that it would end with one of us getting hurt”
“How do you know that?”
“Chris let’s just hypothesize for a minute alright? Let’s say you and I get together, it’s going great, our families are happy for us, we’re happy, everything is grand right? So one day, you decide that you want to marry me. You ask me and I say yes of course. So one night as we sit on the couch, daydreaming about our wedding and future together you say something a long the lines of ‘I can’t wait to start our own little family’. And then you wonder why I look taken a back, and then I say ‘Chris, I don’t want kids’. Then we sit in silence but you eventually say that it’s ok and that we don’t need kids to be happy or to be a family. So we go on with our lives and the wedding. But then a couple more years down the line in our marriage you start to resent me because you’re getting older but don’t have any children. Then we divorce because we both just start to hate each other for what the other one made us do or feel. That is what would happen Chris, believe me, I’ve thought about it for years” You explain your point of view strongly. Dumping every thought you’ve had for the past 4 years out. Chris stands there, dumbfounded. He takes a few deep breaths, fully absorbing everything you said. 
“You’re right” Is all he says quietly, barely audible.
“What?” you ask, wanting him to clarify and confirm that he understood what you had said
“You’re right. I did want kids. I used to want to get married and take care of a wife and children. But that was before I knew how I felt about you. Before I realized that all I wanted was you. I know you don’t want kids, and I’m fine with that. I really am, because as long as I’m with you, I won’t need anything else in life. I know you probably don’t believe me but I still want to prove it to you. I need you to know that you make me happy all on your own. You don’t need to push out a baby for me to love you because” and he takes a short pause and a deep breath “Because I love you already, and whether or not you have my babies won’t change that. You are already an amazing woman and not being a mother won’t take away any of your value. So please, tell me you want this as much as I do”
       Now it’s your turn to be at a loss of words. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart starts to drum in your ears and your tummy heats up and flips with a mixture of happiness and confusion. Your legs feel weak and your hands are shaky. With a baited breath you slowly move forward to him. Still cautious you grab his hand and without hesitation he grabs back, relaxing only slightly. You look up into his eyes to search for any sign of hesitance. When you don’t find any you lean forwards and go on your tiptoes to press a light kiss on his lips. He kisses back with fervor, determined to let you know how he feels. “You’re sure you won’t hate me in the future?”
“How could I hate you? You’re the woman I love with everything I am” 
       You continue like this for a while. Embracing each other and reassuring each other that your love is what matters most. Everything else is just extra.
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youremeimyou · 4 years
Text
Buttercup & her best friend Guk
(M)
pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader genre: angssstt(don’t be fooled by the title, this is angsty stuff), some fluff, slight smut(?) idk I’ve never written anything describing ‘doing the deed’ before- friends to best friends THEN to lovers au lol, touch oriented Jungkook, ex-boyfriend Jimin word count: 6k warnings: smut(not too explicit but a bit rough) check out my mlist
Description: Jungkook has become someone very important to you over the last couple of years. But after your last experience with dating your best friend, you resolve to repressing your feelings. Until Jungkook can’t repress his own, anymore.
A/N: I had started writing this before the comeback but could only finish now. Btw the comeback was too lit i can’t even- Anyways, I hope you like this oneshot. As always, I’ll really appericiate if you leave feedback. I’d love to know what you think so that I can improve my writing. Enjoy!
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Guk is your friend. He has always been ever since you got to know each other. What changed in the course of last few years was how close of a friend he was to you. You met him through Jimin, your former crush of a best friend as you liked to call him. See, being Jimin's best friend was easy at that time. Jimin is so full of love that he can't help but share it with others. And your clingly but cute friendship with him had started right after randomly getting paired in a group project in freshman year. But things move so fast with that guy.
You'd admit, despite having a long line of girls insterested in him, the fact that Jimin would always walk to you after stepping inside the school had you squirming and squeaking inside. Which sped up the whole falling for your best friend process excessively. And once you kissed him at that stupid frat party when you were both drunk, he felt like he had to respond to not have you feeling bad. The start of all your problems..
Because after being together for half a year, you overheard him talking to Hoseok about how your first kiss had actually happened. And it made you furious with thinking he was pity dating you that whole time.
And as fast as it begun, it was over. You were heartbroken for sure but realized maybe you weren't a great pair to begin with. As best friends, you were. With how you could talk to each other about everything, how you'd help each other with every problem and how much fun days would be. But the awful outcome of all of that was your friendship was lost in the process, too. Your friendship with Jimin meant you get to spend time with six other amazing guys that you loved, on a daily basis once. But unfortunately that too, was no longer possible for you after the break-up.
Except for Jungkook. 
As you had a falling out with Jimin, you grew closer with Jungkook. In fact, when you told him why you guys broke up, he went to Jimin and Hoseok's place in fury and had a serious fight with Jimin. Which damaged their relationship as well. Normally rushing like that without having a talk wasn't something Guk would do. Especially to his hyungs, whom he loved and respected very much.
But seeing the fragile look on your face that night, with tears theatening to fall down from your eyes, something came over him. Because in all the time he had known you, he hadn't witnessed a moment when you seemed week. It was characteristic of you to put up a front and hide it when you were struggling. But that night you were too hurt to pretend. And having Guk around, you didn't feel like you had to. His embrace was comfortable enough to fall apart in. So when you started trembling as he had his arms around you, he felt like his heart was being ripped out. Hence, the fight. And they didn't go on to become enemies or anything but it wasn't the same between him and his hyungs either.
Guk stayed with you since then. Not replacing the role of being your best friend but giving it a whole new meaning. Because he became someone you opened your heart to like you did to no one else.
Which is the reason why you're sitting on the hood of his car right now, staring at the night sky. It's chilly and you don't have a coat but it's okay. Because just as you suddenly shiver a little, a blanket is being wrapped around you. "Lucky you left these in the car after the last picnic." Jungkook says as he joins you on the hood and adds his arms to cover you from the cold. This isn't unusual for you two, especially since Jungkook is touch-oriented and you enjoy cuddles. What's kind of out of the ordinary is how quiet Jungkook's been all night. You've noticed but didn't mention it up until now, hoping he'd open up at some point. Because you were his confidant just as he was yours.
But Jungkook just kept his head low for the most of the night. It was his idea to come out here by the river, too. Which is a bit strange. Normally he'd make fun of you for planning a hangout such as this one, calling you a hopeless romantic. He seems calm but when he looks off into the distance, you can somehow see his mind is full and foggy.
"Are you gonna tell me what's on your mind, Guk?"
He looks down at you in surprise. "What do you mean?"
You want to continue but out of nowhere, you find yourself trying to repress a smile, because of the way his face seems upside down. Your head is currently positioned on his chest and you're apperantly still a child cause you find the reverted sight of his head funny.
"What's funny?" His demenour changes when he notices your lips curving, his features soften.
"Nothing. Other than your face." you tease. To such a comment, he'd usually respond with a forehead flick or something. But this time he giggles. "Your face upside down is quite the sight too, Y/N." He knows you like the back of his hand. He slowly removes a string of hair out of your eyes and to the back of your ear. Then turns back to watching the distance.
"I can see something's bothering you, Gukkie. Tell me what it is, so I can fix it." Your statement's geniune. You'd do anything to help him and he knows it. He also knows you're the only one who can fix what's wrong with him. That's why it hurts him to not be able to say it.
"I'm starting to like this kind of thing. You know, getting all cozy watching the stars and all. I'm afraid you're rubbing off on me."
You know he's just making this up to avoid the question but pushing the subject isn't the way to go with Jungkook. You'll take your time trying to figure out what's up.
"Then the solution is clear. You gotta get rid of me."
His gaze falls on you once more. "Don't even think for a second I'm ever letting you go."
That sentence is everything. It's reassuring and intimate but moreover, real. More real than what others promised to you before. After Jimin, you tried your chances with other guys. Luck wasn't on your side, though. Every bad ending made you close yourself more and shut others out. Making trust almost impossible. Guk is the only guy you can believe when he says he won't abandon you.
"Wanna head back? It's getting even colder out here." Jungkook suggests after a while of enjoying each other's company in silence. But sees that you've already fallen asleep on his chest. He has to carry you to the car and then to your house. Being as gentle as possible, he places you on your bed, lingering above you a bit longer than necessary.
Just as he's about to leave, you open your eyes ever so slightly when you feel the warmness of his touch fading away. "Hey.. stay.."
Jungkook's breath hitches and then he sighes heavily. "Now you wake up?"
Smiling at his complaint with your eyes half closed, you hold a grip on his wrist. "I'm sorry. Will you stay?"
Of course he will. "I was gonna come back to drive you to class in the morning, anyway. So why not?" He slips under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you to him. Which makes your smile grow even wider.
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"C'moon, Y/N. Hurry!" Jungkook whines and pulls you down the stairs of your aparment in a rush. He just came over to your place at five in the morning, waking you up and dragging you out, claiming that he needed to show you something. You don't even get to question just what it is exactly he has to show you at this stupid hour when you make your way to the street.
"Did it shrink?"
Jungkook looks at you with confused eyes. "What?"
You lift your index finger to point at the motorcycle he's currently sitting on. "Did your car shrink to this?"
As soon as the penny drops Jungkook bursts into laugther, producing cute sounding giggles. Then, he is finally able to control himself. "And here I was, excited to show you my bike! I thought you'd like it." A playful pout settles on his lips.
"I- I mean it looks great, it's just.." you drag your sentence out at first, embarresed to say it but finally you give up with a sigh and admit. "I like it better in a car where it's- you know, safe."
Another round of merciless laughter comes from Guk. Until he notices you glaring. "It's not that dangerous, Y/N."
"Oh really?" You lift your left eyebrow in disbelief. It's only been a few days since you saw that motorcycle accident on the news, too. The balls this guy has, you think. When he senses that you're about to give him a whole lecture on the subject, mentioning known motorcycle accident rates and all, he quickly cuts you off and adds, "I mean, you don't have to worry because I'll be the one riding it, buttercup."
There it is. Buttercup. The nickname he mostly uses when he wants to convince you to do something you don't wanna do. (He also rarely calls you that if a moment you're having is too intimate.)
You cross your arms and just stand there, still glaring at him. His playful pout is then joined by sad doe eyes. "See?" he reaches up a helmet to you, bright purple with colorful decorations on it. It's pretty cute, you have to admit. "I had designed this helmet just for you and everything, too." When you still don't say a word, he gets up from the seat and comes towards you.
"Don't you trust me, buttercup?"
You take the helmet out of his hands and place it on your head, causing Jungkook's pout to transform into a bunny smile.
"Get ready for a hell of a fun ride, Y/N." he says with a smirk as you settle behind him.
"If you kill us, I won't hang out with you in hell."
"Yes, you will. But we'll be fine, trust me."
In fact, you do trust him. You know he's had his M1 licence for years now and he's been saving up for a bike maybe his whole life. It's just the other people on the streets that you have a problem trusting. Since those so called car drivers tend to not see bike riders in traffic. But as you slowly start crusing the streets you realize there aren't many cars out there if any. Considering how early it is,  it’s not exactly a surprise.
Jungkook starts picking up speed, not all at once but little by little. And you don't notice until you feel the wind harsh against your face. "Guk, don't go crazy." You hear him hum affirmatively over the motor sound. But he doesn't slow down. On the contrary, he's going even faster.
He makes a sudden turn and you grab his waist tightly in panic. Speed was never really your thing but it is just so Jungkook. By this point, you're not even looking around you. You're just ducked down behind Jungkook, holding onto him like a lifeline, eyes shut tight and head burried in his nape.
Then, Jungkook slows down. The roaring sound of the motor dials down and it takes a moment for you to finally open your eyes. When you do, you see that you're crossing a bridge. The dawn is breaking and the sky is splendid. You see every shade of yellow, orange and red up there. The wind is soft and the heat of the rising sun warms you to your bones. It's probably one of the most precious things you've ever witnessed. And you don't know why, but the sunrise resembles Jungkook in your mind. Only, the glow of his skin under it nearly outshines the sun itself. That's how beautiful Jungkook looks.
Your grip on his waist loosens but it's still there. Now, you're just holding him in content, wanting to share the moment. "This is what I wanted to show you, buttercup." His voice is just above a whisper. And you silently thank him by placing a soft but long kiss on his shoulder. Which is worth more than words to Jungkook.
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"I wanna go~"
Jungkook cannot roll his eyes enough to express his disagreement. He's had more than enough of frat parties over the course of your college years.
"But I thought we weren't gonna do frat parties anymore."
"It's been years since we've been to one. I just think it could be fun, you know. And they have the best booze."
Well, they have free booze. But yeah, free booze is the best booze, Jungkook agrees. This particular frat house is the one his hyungs hangs out at, however. Since Taehyung and Namjoon live there. It used to be the usual chilling place back when you were dating Jimin. You haven't been there since the break-up and neither has Jungkook.
"You know he'll be there, Y/N." You give him a careless shrug. "Yeah. I don't care. I'm tired of running away from him." He looks at you with squinted eyes, wondering what caused your change of heart after almost three years. It doesn't look like you're gonna give up. "Fine. We'll go."
When you get there the party has already started but the door is closed, as always. Frat boys don't allow intruders. After ringing the bell rapidly you wait there, hoping someone can hear it over the music and moments later, a tall brunette opens the door and gasps immediately.
"Hey, Taehyung."
Next thing you know is Taehyung launching at you, trapping you in a tight hug. "I missed you, Y/N." he says with a muffled voice. You weren't expecting such a warm welcome. But Taehyung's always been an amazing friend to you. You can't deny that you've missed him, too. He breaks away from you only to tackle Jungkook down to the ground. "Finally remembered the way to hyung's house, have you Guk?" Thankfully, you're familiar with this hugging/wrestling thing they always did back then.
"Wanna let us in?" Guk manages to say while getting pinned down.
You make your way inside and apparently shit has already gone crazy. Everyone is making out with someone at some corner, the smell of weed is all over the place and beer pong seems to have turned into a fight rather than a friendly competition.
Taehyung fixes you up with two glasses of whiskey, since you're special guests. And okay, Jungkook can understand that Taehyung has missed you and wants to catch up but oh why does he have to walk in between you two? he thinks. His hands are all over you, too. Which is normal for you, you know he's touchy with all his close friends but it just annoys the hell out of Jungkook right now.
When you arrive at the big living room, you see him. Park Jimin in all his might. It's obvious he hasn't lost the king of beer pong title to anyone, with the way he's standing gracefully in front of the table and how people around him are worshipping him. He seems the same, except for the hair. He's dyed it pink. Jimin hasn't seen you yet and as he starts looking your way you take cover behind the boys.
"It's safe, he's gone the other way, honey." Taehyung informs. Honey? What the fuck? are Jungkook's thoughts.
You come out to see Jimin sitting on the sofa, with his back facing you. A girl comes to sit on his lap, grinding her hips on his and her lips are all over his neck. Jimin's too busy to notice you, tonight.
"Y/N." Jungkook appears in front of you. "We can still get out of here and go to a club or something-"
"No! We're gonna have fun and we'll do it here." Stubbernness usually comes with tipsy Y/N package, both Jungkook and Taehyung know this. So you stay.
After a while, when you've gulped down your third glass of whiskey and had a couple of vodka shots, you're ready to go crazy. Taehyung puts on a groovy hip hop song, wondering if you still own the dance-floor at parties. You don't. But with the amount of alcohol in your veins you forget that and get up on the table. When you start moving to the beat, a lot of woo-hoos can be heard. You've got some moves so this used to be your thing back then. People are gathering around you, cheering. Jungkook is trying to stay close to catch you in case you lose balance.
Which you eventually do and you stumble backwards on the edge but fall to the opposite side of Jungkook. And right into the arms of Jimin. Perfect.
"Caught you." he says and you gulp. First interaction in almost three years and you're in his arms. Jimin slowly and gently puts you down, helping you stand straight. "You're still the best drunk dancer around, huh?" His eyes are locked with yours. Why is he trying to converse with you? Why did he even save you? The last time you were together, you were shouting at him with anger, not even letting him speak. Didn't he hate you after that like you thought?
"I really am drunk."
"Let's get you to the couch-"
Jungkook runs over to you and pulls you to himself. "Buttercup, you okay?" You nod and he sighes in relief. Jimin leaves when Guk shows up, though.
Jungkook sits you down on the couch, examining your body for possible injuries but Taehyung calls him over.
"C'mon Guk! These guys are challenging your record. Let's show 'em." Jungkook tries to wave his hand to signal no but you stop him. "Just go. I'm fine."
"Y/N you just fell from-"
"I'm okay, I was caught. We're supposed to be having fun and you haven't finished your first drink yet. Just go and beat those guys in shots. Show 'em whose boss, Guk." Jungkook's record of downing more shots than anyone is important to him whether he admits it or not. But he hesitates to leave you. You have to push him and kick him on the butt lightly to make him go over there.
Once he leaves, you're once again across the view of the same girl devouring Jimin's neck. And this time, Jimin is responding. Unbottoning her shirt and kissing all over her bra. It's becoming too much for you to watch. Not that you're jealous, you've been over him for quite some time. But the sight just brings back the memory of a guy touching you or kissing you because he loved you. Well, you thought he loved you back then. That's why it was too hard to find out the truth about your relationship. After him, none of the guys you dated could make you feel special either. Even sex was just sex at a certain point so you stopped having that, too.
You get up and go to another room but the sudden movement makes you dizzy. Wobbly walking without looking ahead, you bump into someone.
"Shit, I'm sorry-"
"It's okay." he says and catches you when you lose balance again. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just moved suddenly that's all. I'm fine now."
He's tall. And definetely attractive. He pushes his hair back and you notice his lip ring. Fuck.. you love lip rings. Things escalate quickly and you find yourself dancing with him, bodies really close. It gets real steamy real fast when he places his lips on your neck.
"You're really beautiful." he whispers in your ear. "And I love the way you move to the beat." Compliments are only to get in your pants and you know it. But you don't mind, maybe it's what you seek. "You're not so bad yourself." After dancing and talking some more, he suggests to go somewhere else but you don't wanna waste time so you take him upstairs. Meanwhile Jungkook's been looking for you, going around the house and catches sight of you at the last second, seeing you going up the stairs and dragging someone with.
He tries to get to you quickly but the way is blocked with college students dancing and high out of their minds. It takes a while for him to break through and get to the staircase. You've already reached the closest room, Taehyung's. But it's occupied. By none other than Jimin and that girl. Seeing that fires you up even more and you drag the guy to Namjoon's room. Thankfully that one's available.
But someone barges in. "What the fuck are you doing?" It's Jungkook. He's pissed.
"Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Can't you see we're busy-" Jungkook grabs the guy and drags him out. Despite being shorter, he's more built and easily overpowers him. Then, closes the door flat on his face and turns to you.
"Jungkook, what the-"
"Do you know who he is?" he shouts at you.
"Yeah, the guy I was about to bang-"
"Do you even know his name, Y/N?" he's practically screaming at this point.
"It's Minjae or something."
"It's Jaebum. And he's a dick. He just wants to sleep with you and that's it. Do you know how many girls he played with? He's a fuckboy-"
"Great. That's what I wanted. I wanted someone who knows how to fuck good and you just kicked him out!" You shout back. This isn't like him, he's never intervened like this before. And he's shocked to hear you say those things. You, who wouldn't even bother having a one night stand anymore because of how meaningless it seemed.
"Why are you doing this, Y/N? Is it because of Jimin?"
"No!" Your face drops. "Yes?- I don't know. I just wanted someone to make me feel special. I haven't felt like that for the longest time, Guk."
Jungkook's whole demeanour changes and his eyes go dark. "And you go to that guy? A stranger you don't even know, to make you feel special?" He moves closer to you, making your heart race. You take a step back but your back hits the wall. He's trapped you. "You think he can give it to you better than I can?" He's so close that you feel his breath on your neck.
"Unlike him, I know just how special you are," One of his hands finds your shoulder. "how beautiful you are," That hand travels down your arm and finds your waist. "how strong but also how delicate you actually are." He grips your waist tightly, pulling you closer if that's even possible. "But I never even cross your mind like that, do I?" He speaks as if the words are venom. Almost like he's hurt. But what he doesn't know is he has been in your mind like that. More than once or twice.
"You do.." It's barely even audible so Jungkook has to ask again in shock.
"What?"
"You do cross my mind like that. I just-"
His lips are on yours.
What you were hoping to get from that Jaebum guy tonight can't even get close to this feeling and all Jungkook's doing is kissing you. But it's too deep to be labeled as just a kiss. Very rough but passionate, open mouthed and wet. He practically has to rip himself apart from you to let the both of you breath.
Your hands instinctively go to his belt, trying sloppily to unbuckle it. Which makes him freeze and come out of the frenzy he was in.
"Wait. Y/N, are we going too far?"
Not the time to be considerate Guk, you think but his hand finds yours and stops them.
"Not far enough, Guk." You slap his hand away and get to the task at hand once more.
"Y/N- I won't be able to stop if you keep this up. Are you- are you sure-"
"Jungkook.. please.." You have no idea what's gotten into you. Maybe it's the repressed feelings you've been having for him coming to surface or maybe it’s the alcohol but you're dying for him to touch you right now. "Just please.."
And that's all it takes for his eyes to go dark again. Next thing you know is you're on the bed, no clue how or when you got there and Jungkook is pushing into you relentlessly. When did you get undressed? When did he even put the condom on? Time is so wobbly in that moment. It feels like seconds and hours at the same time. And Jungkook turns out to be right. He does know you the best. Every inch of your body he'd already learned from all the times you held each other close. Somehow, he knows exactly where to touch and how.
Every moan from you is music to his ears and he gives his all to hear more of it. Moans turn into his name as you close in on your climax. "J-Jungkook ahh.. Jungkook.." you scream on and on and he can't hold much longer, either. His thrusts become sloppy but determined to satisfy you the best as he claimed, he keeps filling you up.
"Don't stop. I'm almost there.. I'm-" you cum all over him and he follows soon after. All the while having the most dazed smile on his face. After pulling out, he connects your lips once more but this time it's softer. Like he's savouring the taste.
Then he lies next to you and silence takes over. You want to say something but all words are lost to you. Everything is overwhelming, from the way you’re both out of breath to how his head is burried in the crook of your neck. Guk on the other hand seems to be in a bliss.
"I.. I love you, buttercup." he manages to say before dozing off. You open your mouth to say something, but close it when you hear the light sleeping noises coming from him. He's only saying that because of what just happened, right?
Taehyung finds you like that in his bed a couple of hours later and kicks the two of you out. "I have to bleach my sheets and my eyes now, thanks." he complains while doing so. You make him swear to never speak of this to anyone and he complies. "I'm blocking this memory out completely, don't worry."
The ride home is silent. You still hold Jungkook's waist on the bike but he doesn't stay with you when you get home. Even though he'll come back in a few hours to take you to class. You don't ask why, you need to take time to process everything, as well.
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Last night is the fifth time in a row that you don't get enough sleep. A couple of weeks has past since that night with Jungkook and honestly.. you’re fucked to say the least. On the surface it looks like you’re both moving on with your lives as normal, almost like nothing happened. Almost being the keyword here. Because once you take a closer look, you can see that the times he stays over at your place has dialed down to a zero. Touching each other freely is no longer an option, either. And these among many others are the reasons you can’t sleep properly.
Your plan is to talk to him tonight. The original plan is going to Taehyung’s birthday party that’s being held in a club. After the frat party he insisted both of you to join since you’ve missed the last two birthdays of his. And you agreed. Especially because Guk was starting to patch things up with his hyungs again and you had missed the guys as well. And you’re gonna talk to Guk when you see him there. For sure.
If he ever comes near you for more than ten seconds, that is. The venue is cramped up with lots of people and Jungkook must’ve made it his mission to speak to each and every one of them because he won’t stop moving around. After trying to get him alone for countless times and failing, you retreat to the sitting area with the biggest frown on your face. Jimin finds you and sits next to you.
“Why are you sulking in the corner? Don’t let Taehyung see you like this, he says everyone has to be having the time of their lives and he seems pretty strict about it.” Considering that Taehyung’s a drama queen, that sounds about right.
“I can’t get Jungkook to pay attention to me.”
Jimin smiles at your pouty face. “Oh no! A lovers’ quarrel?”
“Wha- No! We’re not- lovers.” you air-quote the word ‘lovers’, it always sounded strange to you.
Confusion can be read on Jimin’s face. “Really? We always thought you guys were dating. Are you sure you’re not?” The last part he says in a teasing voice.
“I’m positive Jimin, don’t make fun of me.” you’re still sulking.
“I’m not. So what happened?”
You turn your head to look at him. After all this time, you feel like you can still talk to him and he’ll understand. “I- I mean we- well, it happened so suddenly but-”
“You guys had sex.”
Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops with shock.
“Taehyung told me how he caught you two.” Jimin shrugs. That traitor.
“Okay, yes. And I think I scared him away. Just like I did to you.” You laugh at the irony bitterly.
Jimin turns completely to you and makes you face him as well. “Look Y/N, I never really had the chance to explain back then but- you didn’t scare me away. It wasn’t like what you thought. Yeah, our first kiss was totally out of nowhere for me but I truly loved dating you. I did, in a really short time, fall for you. And I was in no way pity dating you. It was all real, I swear.”
Wait, what? You had fought with Jimin all those years ago and ended your relationship over nothing? And you screamed at him, blamed him for something so shitty that he didn’t even actually do? Your heart sank. “Jimin, I-”
“Look, I was sad but I moved on. I know you have, too. To Jungkook. I was pretty upset, thinking he stole you from me for quite some time.”
“Jimin, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything to me. But just- it’s okay that you’ve fallen for your best friend. It wasn’t a mistake then and it’s not a mistake now. But talk to him about it, alright?”
Well fuck. He's right. You have fallen for your best friend again. Two things are different about this time, though. The first is this time you managed to hide it, even from your self. Because of how badly things ended before. And the second thing is what you feel for Jungkook is poles apart from your former feelings for Jimin.
If the first time your desire was a candle light, this time it's the sun in its entirety. And even though you've been flying too close to it this whole time, it doesn't burn you, instead it warms your soul. The simple sight of Jungkook is enough to comfort you and his arms are always home. And ever since you've had a taste of him, the taste of his body linking with yours in a perfect fit and the blissful feeling following that, you know this isn't like anything you've felt before.
"So.. it looks like your moment of clarity is in process. I'm gonna go get Gukkie." Jimin says and gets up.
You stop him for a moment, gripping his shirt. "Thanks, Jimin. And I'm sorry." Then you let your grip go and put on a guilty but geniune smile. He smiles understandingly as response before going to find Jungkook.
Jimin gets up on one of the futons to get a better view into the crowd. Which helps him locate the younger boy. He suddenly feels nervous as he walks closer to Jungkook. He had no problem talking to you but somehow he had this stupid pride about talking to Jungkook until now. Because yeah, you yelled at him and said heavy things but Jungkook.. one of the people who knows him best didn't even bother asking if what he heard was true. And the fight they had was a physical one. Which left Jungkook with a bleeding nose, Jimin with a black eye and both of them with broken hearts.
Jimin slowly taps on Guk's shoulder, making him turn around.
"Can I talk to you Jungkook?"
Jungkook's eyes tear up a bit but he holds it in. He's always felt guilty about how he treated Jimin back then and carried that with him for a long time. And now, all of that mixed with the little alcohol in his system, makes him emotional. Especially because it's Jimin who made the first approach, even though it's Jungkook who was at fault. "Hyung.. I-"
"Both of us were lost in a misunderstanding that day. But I'm the hyung, I should've made things right. I'm sorry-"
"No! I am. I don't know why I attacked you like that, without even trying understand you before. And I was a coward for not coming to sort things out all this time. Hyung, please forgive me for hurting you."
Jimin's eyes turn into crescents and he pulls the younger in a tight hug. "We've all missed you so you have to make up for all the lost time, punk." He jokingly scolds him but in brotherly language, it means he accepts the apology.
"I will hyung. In fact, let's have a drink-" Jungkook smiles as they part. But Jimin makes him turn his body towards you. "First, talk to her."
"Wha-"
"A bit of advice, tell her exactly how you feel. No lies." Then he practically shoves Guk your way. You were already walking to him so you meet halfway when Jungkook -being pushed- clashes into you, making you stumble backwards.
Thankfully he catches you before you fall but now, his arms completely surround you and your faces are only inches apart. "Shit- you okay Y/N?"
"Yeah, you?"
He nods but doesn't let go for a while, staring into your eyes with his own misty, chocolate ones.
"Did you talk to Jimin-ie hyung about something? Cuz he was just mentioning-"
"Why are you avoiding me after- that night?" you cut him off in a moment of boldness, returning the intense gaze back. And you can feel his body tense up immediately after. The clouds in his eyes grow and worry is written all over them.
"You didn't say it back. And I felt so stupid."
Your stomach drops. You didn't say that you loved him back and that's why he felt like he made a mistake.
"I felt like I pushed you into what happened that night. Just because I'm irrevocably in love with you, doesn't mean that you have to feel the same way-"
Not being able to take it anymore, you clash your lips onto his. You don't think you can explain with words just how much you do love him back. How he became your closest and then your whole life. So you pour everything into that kiss, hoping he might understand.
And he returns the kiss in light speed. But you can tell that he's shocked from the way his hands lift up from around your body. When you part, the mist in his eyes are gone and replaced by sparkles.
"I'm sorry. I love you so bad that I feared I'd push you away. That's why I couldn't say it back. The last time I fell for my best friend-"
"I'm not Jimin." he says. You're very well aware. His eyes go big in realization and he backs away from you a little before speaking. "So.. I'm not a dumbass for thinking that all of our picnics, night drives, all the times we sat by the river looking at the sky and every movie we saw huddled together always felt like it could actually be a date?"
A smile creeps up on your mouth because these are all exactly your thoughts. Everything you've done together felt like the best date ever. Even the goofiest stuff.. You nod at him, still smiling.
His hands find your body again, softly surrounding your waist as he pulls you closer to himself. "We don't have to change much for them to be real dates. Just add a couple of kisses from now on and that's it." He jokes around. "So, will you have me?" His gaze goes a little fragile while asking that. If anything, he's a dumbass for thinking he has to ask.
"Only if you add some of what you did to me that night into the mix." You say slyly and he fakes a dramatic gasp.
"You're naughty. But I'm sure I can fix you up. When are you available?"
You go closer to his ear and mutter the next words only above a whisper. "Right now."
Then you both giggle as you hastily make your way out of there. It's safe to say this is the best night you've had in quite a while. And it'll only get better from now on.
...
A/N: My first Jungkook fic!! I know it was long, thanks sooo much if you bared with me and read it. I hope you enjoyed it. Also, idk if you’ve read any of my previous work but if you have, you might’ve seen that I’m always asking for feedback but end up not getting it(i mean comments, your likes are very much appreciated ofc). It really does mean a great deal to me to see what you guys think of my fics. So I’d be glad to read your comments. Anyways, have a lovely dayyy :)
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