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chemicalpink · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Words: 4.7k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff if you squint really hard, childhood friends to lovers AU

Warnings: unprotected sex, bathroom sex, infidelity, JK is a heartthrob that is bad at feelings, YN realises she’s been in love with JK all along.

A/N: this is me trying to write longer fics, I liked how this one came out yayyy. This goes out to the @thebtswritersclub monthly prompt _____ to lovers, in this case it’s childhood friends to lovers. I just- I really liked how it came out, I’m so excited to know what you guys think of it.

Summary: Falling in love is such a curious thing in life, Jungkook would know best, after pinning over you for years on end, only to have his best friend take away his opportunity, or does he?

The sun was shining brightly over the park as you made your way down the slide, hot skin scorching at the contact with the yellow plastic, although you couldn’t bring yourself to care as much as your mother would, meeting Sungho at the end of it, who was covering his eyes as best as his arms would allow him to do, summer was almost coming to an end and you two had decided to spend every single second of it together, much to both of your mothers’ dismay who had long decided to take turns to tire both of you out by the neighbourhood park, nothing too exciting, if it weren’t for your young imaginative minds combined, which turned you into the closest a six year old could get to being a menace.

As you smiled brightly at your friend, you couldn’t help but turn your head towards an almost inaudible whimper coming from the shaded side of the park, finding a kid around your age plopped down by the tree, desperately drying his eyes with the back of his hand, small sobs coming out of his lips as three other kids, which you knew to be a little older than you and quite disrespectful at that, kept laughing at the boy, so really, what else were you supposed to do if not come in to save the day. “Come on Y/N they’ll make fun of us too” Sungho said as he tried to tug you away, only to have you stand your ground firmly

“If they make fun of me, I won’t cry” you crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest

“Y/N let’s just go”

“You go, Sungho” Sungho was always the type of kid that your mother kept reminding you to be more like, always righteous, never picking fights like you were known to do, but you really couldn’t stand watching the mysterious kid crying by himself while no one else did anything in the slightest. So you stood between him and the three kids that were still making fun of him, head high, fists up by your sides in a superhero pose “You shouldn’t make fun of others”

“Why don’t we make fun of both of you then, Y/N?”

“At least I can put my shirt shirt when I’m dressing myself, Areum” the girl looked down for half a second before staring you down, full of rage before huffing and turning around in true mean girl fashion.

You turn back to find a pair of bambi eyes staring at you, sobs silenced, although his chest still showed him trying to fully catch his breath. You extend your hand for him to take it so that he could stand up “I’m Y/N what’s your name?”

“I’m Jungkook” you were quick to grab his arm and pull him to where Sungho had watched the whole scene with Areum, now staring at the way you dragged the slightly shorter boy towards him

“Well Jungkook, this is Sungho and I just decided that all of us three are going to be best friends forever” the small boy smiled at that, bunny teeth showing in the process, eyes sparkly with wonder and pure appreciation, contrasting the look on Sungho’s face.

“Y/N I think you need to have girl friends to have these sleepovers with, Jungkook and I are boys” Sungho says as soon as you pass him the mirror and he is left staring at his reflection with a ton of glitter eyeshadow on his face, you turn to look at Jungkook, who is currently sprawled out playing with his nintendo, a set of pigtails adoring his head along with the hottest pink lipstick you could find

“I don’t mind it” he stuffed his mouth with chips as he continued to play on his console, not sparing any of you a look, although you smiled at him fondly, grateful to have him play along whenever Sungho didn’t feel like it, which seemed to be more and more as all of you grew older.

“Well I’m going to take this off” he said as he ran into the bathroom to wash his face. Good luck trying to get rid of glitter.

You huffed out a sigh at how boring it was getting if Sungho didn’t like to play your games, along with Jungkook being stuck inside his own little world. “This is so boriiiing”

“It was your idea Y/N”

“Yeah but you guys are no fun”

Jungkook pauses his game to turn to look at you “We can watch a movie if you’d like”

If someone were to tell 6 year old you that twelve years later, the kid that used to make fun of you would turn into your best friend, you would have probably laughed in their face, although as years went by, Areum had finally gotten better in terms of personality, up to the point where she had a full on talk with you before you decided to give it a try, even more so as she now took it as her job to protect you in high school, seeing as she was a year older than you.

“Jungkook has changed” the brunette said while taking a seat next to you inside the cozy smoothie shop, crumpling up her receipt inside her bag distractedly as you just stared at her, not knowing what had prompted her to talk about your best friend, Jungkook wasn’t exactly what one would consider popular, especially amongst the higher grades, especially not given the bickering grudge he held against Areum after all those years.

“What do you mean?”

“Just- seems like before summer he was this scrawny little thing, deer eyes, soft smiles” you looked at her intently, Jungkook had gone on vacation with his family for weeks as soon as finals were over, leaving with the promise of hanging out for the few days before school started again, similar to how you were now hanging out with Areum, her having arrived back a few hours before Jungkook “Now- well”

There were a million thoughts running inside your mind, some seemingly more plausible than others, tow hich yopu found yourself asking “Areum, did you fuck Jungkook?”

“I mean- we were both staying at the same hotel Y/N” Areum sipped on heir smoothie as a way to act coy about it, wide eyes turned the other way at the prospect of having said out loud that her latest conquest was none other than little Jungkook, the guy she had always made fun of for one or another reason

“Oh god you slept with Jungkookie” and you really tried to picture her, accepted into college, beautiful Areum, long lean legs, model faced Areum, flirt queen that always seemed to go for older guys Areum, paired up with sweet Jungkookie, sure, your best friend was cute, handsome even, there was no denying it, he was just not- Areum level handsome, Areum liked going out to party, let men shower her in drinks while Jungkook absolutely loved staying home battling Sungho in the newest video game that was around “I-I have no words”

“Y/N- Y/N don’t judge until you’ve tapped it” your friend seemed to space out for a second, as if looking back at her time with Jungkook, dreamily. “The guy got buff”

And sure he did, not only did Jungkook was now full of muscle, he also apparently had renewed his wardrobe, bought a motorcycle and apparently had even grown a few centimeters taller, or at least that much was said by Sungho as you three met up for lunch the day before classes started again, trying to catch up as you did every year when the three of you didn’t get a chance to hang out much.

“So are we getting that newly released game Kook?” Sungho mentioned in what appeared to be the background, your eyes completely fixated on whomever the man sitting in front of you was, definitely not your best friend Jungkook.

“Nah dude, I sold all my consoles and games to buy my bike” your eyes widened at the confession, probably mirroring the uttermost shocked look that Sunho was also sporting. Jeon Jungkook selling his videogames was definitely a sign of the apocalypse. You were about to make a comment before you heard a very familiar voice behind you, making you turn your head towards it.

“Jungkookie, you wanted me to come over?” her eyes had that sparkle in them which you have come to recognise as her being infatuated by someone, even if she didn’t really talked about it openly, you turned towards Jungkook in disbelief

“Yeah, Areum, lose my number”

You consciously close your mouth at the exchange as Areum backed away from the table muttering an ‘oh..okay’ as Jungkook smiled daily at her, your eyes lock in surprise with Sungho’s, both of you silently agreeing that this Jungkook was certainly a new side neither of you could yet guess whether or not you would continue to be able to befriend, although the history between the three of you spoke volumes.

And just like that, enough to get whiplash from it, Jungkook’s lazy uninterested eyes were replaced by the squinty smile you had learned to adore over the years, bunny teeth showing as his laugh resonated in the restaurant “Oh god you guys should have seen your faces!”

Your eyes travelled along the expanse of the space you three were in, looking at Sungho for a clue to pick up about what was happening, coming up empty handed as he spoke first “Dude I almost had a heart attack, I thought you had sold your games!”

“Oh no that I did” Jungkook took a sip out of his drink calmly

You tried not to show how nothing made sense in your mind “And that thing with...Areum?”

He placed his cup down, looking at you with wide eyes humming softly “Yeah that was a thing too, she’s been texting me non stop after we hooked up. I’m just glad I’m back with you guys”

So Jungkook had changed, that much was true, just not as much as he let people believe. Sure enough, the guy was now pure muscle, rode a bike everywhere, and made it his lifeplan to conquer as many girls as his schedule allowed him too; he also made a few other friends outside of your friends' circle, enough for rumours to go around about him being involved in shady business, or him hooking up with somebody’s mum. Either way, if you were to turn a blind eye to his social persona, Jungkook was still your and Sungho’s little Jungkookie, bambi wide eyes that teared up whenever it was movie night and you picked some chick flick, bunny teeth and loud giggles as he played a prank on Sungho, even though you could tell his heart just wasn’t in it as it was before.

“I’m gonna ask Y/N out” Sungho has asked Jungkook to meet him outside of campus on the first weeks of college as all three of you decided to attend together, uninterested on whatever it was that he was about to tell him, but trying to keep up his fractured friendship with the man (and you) he had shown up, even so a little fashionably late to make his point clear.

“And you’re telling me this because..”

“I don’t want to make it awkward, Jeon” Jungkook scoffs before rolling his eyes at Sungho “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you little boy crush on her for years”

“What I think you haven’t noticed is that I don’t do feelings” Jungkook retorts as he approaches him “And although I find Y/N to be quite fuckable if you ask me, I appreciate her enough not to put her in a weird place like you’re about to do, asshole”

Once weeks rolled around, things kept on being as the were after that fateful summer where Jungkook completely reinvented himself, even as semesters came and went, Jungkook grew a bit more separate from both Sungho and yourself, although it became a little harder to discern whether it was because of Jungkook or due to the fact that Sungho and you had started dating during the first semester of college. Sungho had no real answer to give you when asked about it, saying that outside of the scheduled movie night you three kept on sharing, he barely even texted Jungkook on his own.

“I heard your girl is getting married” his friend said as he handed him an opened beer, taking his place back against his bike in the middle of the night after some race they had gone to near the outskirts of Seoul.

Jungkook took a swing out of the bottle, squinting at the questionable choice in alcohol “I don’t have a girl Jihoon”

“Oh? Then what’s Y/N?'' he felt the blood draining from his face, heart heavy, breath hitching inside his throat as soon as your name left his lips. Of fucking course Sungho would try to marry you before you graduated. That bastard.

It was quite funny really, Jungkook knew from the very start, back when all three of you had 6 years old and you had saved him from a set of mean kids in the park, that Sungho was never fond of him, or rather, of the relationship you had developed with him, sure, the two men had bonded over a few shared interests as they grew up, but the only thing that kept them together was you. Sometimes Jungkook guesses it could have been him instead of Sungho, asking you out, sharing nights together, even being about to get married. But those thoughts were only wishful thinking, he had long ago decided that you deserved so much more than what he could give you, what with his eternal fear and inability to give himself up to others. So he had let you go, never thinking about the possibility of Sungho taking a place he wasn't worthy of either.

"Good for her"

It wasn't long after learning that you were engaged, that the invitation arrived to his apartment, just a few days after graduation. It wasn't really a surprise anymore, even back when he first heard the news, it wasn't that surprising, he guessed it was the years of knowing both you and Sungho, learning your patterns, that he had somehow seen it coming. It didn't make it any less hard to wish you weren't about to walk down the aisle to a man that wasn't him though. But he kept repeating to himself to stop being selfish, he had lost his chance, not that he ever had one to begin with, but as long as you were happy, he would be too.

And you really did seem happy, so he was willing to just ignore the way that his chest seemed to constrict every time your eyes locked on his from across the room as the rehearsal dinner, you were sporting a gorgeous emerald dress, the same colour as when you two first met eighteen years back, his mind spinning with impossible scenarios as each minute that passed really just turned out to be a minute closer to watch you walk down the aisle to another man, one that was supposed to be his best friend at that.

“Bride’s or groom’s” A sweet female voice called him as he sipped on his fifth? sixth? champagne flute, finding a woman staring at him with what he has come to recognise as lust.

“Eh.. you could say both”

A glimpse of recognition could be seen in her eyes before she spoke again “You must be Jungkook then, the overseeked bachelor”

“In the flesh” He smirked at her as she took a hold of his hand, guiding him upstairs to where you and your soon to be husband had booked bridesmaids and groomsmen alike for the night. Not that the blonde had anything to do with how utterly horrible he was feeling about the whole wedding situation but perhaps fucking his frustrations out would help just a little.

Jeon Jungkook was never the one to stick around until morning, that much was true, and although he might be known for a varying of unspeakable things, nothing could have prepared him for what he had to witness at ungodly hours.

He picked up the rest of his clothing after half dressing himself, not even sparing a second glance at the woman that was laying on her bed peacefully, careful not to make more sounds than the inherently necessary, his curiosity is peaked as he hears faintly moaning and skin slapping skin coming from the room next door, seeing the door barely open, and against his better judgement he peeks inside only to feel his heart pounding against his chest, blood rushing inside his ears as he can’t seem to look away from the image presented to him. Sungho, your soon to be husband, the one that he used to consider his best friend for years on end, the oh so righteous Sungho, ever morally correct Sungho, bending your other so-called best friend and maid of honour, Areum, over the comforter as he fucked into her. A few hours before he got married to you. After everything that he had put him through, making him believe that it was in your best interest top let you go, that he should have handed you over to him, that he was the best option out of the two of you to build a life with.

Jungkook sees red and doesn’t quite remember anything other than Areum running out of the room as he punches Sungho in the face, receiving some punches back.

“You absolutely disgust me”

The bastard has the guts to laugh at him “You know, Jeon” he goes to inspect his face in the mirror “If you burst Y/N’s bubble, you’ll forever be remembered as the stupid little boy that was jealous enough on her wedding day to ruin her life”

Jungkook clenches his fists by his side before deciding to turn his heels and leave the room, vision still blurry in anger, breathing ragged, a small trickle of blood making its way down from his eyebrow as he almost automatically walked himself to the other side of the hostel where he knew you must have been resting, taking a few too many second to decide to knock on the door.

“Jungkook? What are you- oh god” sleep seems to leave you as soon as your eyes lock on his beat up face, him smiling at you in a futile attempt to have you not worry that much about his well being, but of course you were already searching for a first aid kit as he took a seat on your bed “Jungkookie, what happened?”

And perhaps he didn’t think it through that much, but he couldn’t let you walk yourself into a marriage blinded by the persona Sungho had always made you believe he was. “Y/N” he took your hands in his, stopping you from rubbing any more antiseptic into his cut “You’ll hear,a nd probably have already heard, too much shit about me”

His eyes beg you to stare at him intently, and although the whole scenario had you giggling out of nervousness, it soon died down “Kook, what are you talking about?”

“Y/N- Sungho is not the man he’s made us think he is” your eyes scan his face for any more clues on what he’s saying a syou feel a beeping sound closing in on your ears, overwhelmed by the situation “And he’ll probably say this is me just being a jealous asshole after being in love with you for more than half of my living years but-”

You stare at him in horror as your hands remove themselves from his hold as if he was burning, standing up from where you were seated next to him, feeling your whole world being crushed down a few hours before what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life “No” you take a step back as you hold your chest, feeling hot tears welling up in your eyes “Jungkook please don’t do this shit to me”

“Y/N just- don’t marry Sungho” somehow he had willed his voice to remain calm

Your head shook fervently at him, as if somehow the action would make him retreat his words “Sungho loves me, Jungkook”

His eyes were ice cold at your words “He loves you enough to fuck Areum a few hours before making you his wife”

He really didn’t mean the bite on his words as he said them, this had nothing to do with you and everything to do with that asshole you called finacé, so he could completely understand when through your tears, chest heavy with rage and head spinning you asked “Please leave”

And he did.

Everything seemed like a fever dream. The words that Jungkook had said, the implication that it had. And really, if it weren’t for the fact that Jungkook was gone from the whole ordeal, you could have sworn your life that it was nothing other than a nightmare, Areum was as bubbly as ever, helping you get ready. Sungho’s good morning text still found its way into your inbox. Jungkook had not only accused you fiancé of cheating, but had said he had always been in love with you, no further proof to his words, so you decided to go as planned, yet you found yourself hyper aware of every move Sungho made, especially when they involved Areum.

You stood in your pristine white dress in front of a couple dozens of guests as traditional words were spoken, your mind a thousand miles away as you kept on looking towards the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would open up, Jungkook would show up and stop you from making what could potentially be the worst mistake of your life.

"If anyone objects to the marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace." your eyes trail to the soor, yearning to hear Jungkook’s voice amidst the otherwise silent chapel, but it never came.

“Hey, Y/N come dance with us,” one of your bridesmaids say as the night progresses after dinner, some loud beat taking over the venue at the reception, making everyone stand up to dance, including your now-husband as you find yourself sulking sitting on your designated table.

“I’m fine, you go” you try to flash her the biggest smile you can as she goes, leaving you once again with your thoughts. Thoughts that mainly involved Jungkook, figuring that after all these years, life had managed to finally separate you, heart yearning to have him close to you, the more you became aware of your current life path, the more you realised what a humongous mistake you had made. You had always thought that marrying Sungho would give you a sense of utter happiness, of fulfillment, whether what Jungkook said was true or not, as you watched your husband having the time of his life without you. If he were Jungkook, he would be seated right by your side.

Jeon Jungkook, as deviated as he appeared to be to everyone, as much as he slept around, he had demonstrated to be the most loyal human being by your side up until the last second of your friendship, unlike Sungho, he had always been interested in what you wanted to do, had always let your voice be heard, had helped you through rough times when Sungho was nowhere to be seen, perhaps you had chosen the wrong best friend to fall in love with a few years ago, the wrong man in your life to marry. It had been Jungkook all along. It could have been Jungkook all along.

Your eyes fixate on the way that Sungho whispers something on Areum’s ear and you feel your blood boil, more out of self-pity and annoyance at letting such a man manipulate you rather than jealousy as you stand up to make your way to the bathroom, in hopes of freshening up before coming up with a plan to fix this mistake.

You sigh as you hold yourself up by the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, pondering just how deep you’ll have to dig to come out of the mess when you hear an all too familiar deep chuckle behind you “So you realised”

You turn your back to the mirror to face Jungkook “That Sungho was an asshole or that I’m in love with you?”

His eyes turn into those deeply surprised deer shape you remember from when he was younger for a split second before they’re filled with something else between lust and deep appreciation as he backs you up further against the sink, a tattooed hand coming up to your chin “Does that mean I get to kiss you with no regrets now?”

“Would you kiss a married woman, Jungkook?” you ask playfully, matching the brattiness in his tone

“Only the ones whose husbands are assholes” and so his lips capture yours in a sweet quick kiss that has you wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in once again, escalating from a very much due kiss filled with words that are unable to be said, into a fiery pit in the low of your stomach at the prospect of kissing Jungkook while still being in your wedding dress, just a few hours married and kissing another man.

Jungkook’s hands have abandoned their place on your figure in favour of trying to undo the little buttons on the back of your dress, breaking the kiss to complain “God just how many buttons does this dress have?”

Soon enough your dress lays forgotten on the floor, matching lingerie covering your body as Jungkook has most of your body up against the mirror, panties aside in favour of having him fingering you, arms almost failing to keep you upright as he mouths at your skin, moans escaping your lips regularly as he pumps and curls his fingers inside you, lewd noises taking reverbating on the small bathroom’s walls, a faint trail of bass coming in from the party “God you’re so perfect Y/N” he grunted as you heard his zipper coming down before feeling the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, his hand coming up to grip your hair making you face the mirror, makeup completely wrecked, the sight almost unrecognisable to you, a slight burning but pleasurable sensation on your scalp “I bet that bastard Sungho wouldn’t be able to wreck you like this” without further notice entering you from behind, your walls clenching against him as you felt him slowly but firmly making his way in and out of you at a building rapidly pace, a moan slipping past your lips and Jungkook shushing you in exchange as he increases his speed and you bit your lip to forbid any noises from coming out, afraid of being heard even when you knew it would be almost impossible to do so over the loud party noises, this bathroom being so far away from it.

Jungkook had placed your right leg up the sink, hitting an even deeper spot that had you building your orgasm at an incredible speed, throwing your head back in pleasure, feeling him completely inside you as heat pooled in your lower belly.

“K-Kook I’m gonna-ah! I’m gonna cum” a few flicks on your clit with his expert fingers as he helped you keep yourself upright did the trick as Jungkook made sure to somehow thrust even deeper, a loud moan scaping you as he spilled his warm seed inside you, quickly adjusting back his boxers and trousers as one of his fingers collected some cum that was dripping down your thigh to push it back in, letting go of you to hold yourself up against the sink, pulling your panties back in place.

“Think that counts as a wedding gift?” he turns to leave the bathroom, leaving you heaving to haphazardly step inside your dress as you trail behind him, finding him resting against a wall, his bike roaring a few meters away as he smiles your way knowingly as he puts on his helmet, throwing another one your way "So.. all ready to leave that asshole of a husband now or should I wait another 15 years?"

#thebtswritersclub #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #btscreatorscorner #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #bts imagine

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt: Fic snippet proposed by @myakkoh (tumblr) or BlueSapphire718 (ao3):

“I’m what?” Lan Qiren squawks, since this is the first time he’s heard anything about this. “Sworn brothers with me,” Wen Ruohan drawls. “A memorable night, really.” Lan Qiren stares. “What.” “What’s wrong?” Wen Ruohan sneers. “Can’t speak properly to Da-ge?” “You,” Lan Qiren says, “cannot be Da-ge. It sounds wrong.” “Oh?” “You, are two generations older than me. I am only sixteen.” “All the better,” Wen Ruohan says smoothly.

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Spilled Pearls

A/N: If Tedious Joys is the story of LQR's relationship with Sect Leader Nie and how WRH impacts that, then this is the story of LQR's relationship with WRH and how Sect Leader Nie impacts that.

Please note the tagging on Ao3 for all warnings, including as to tone

- Chapter 1 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was running to catch up, because he was always running to catch up.

He’d only been allowed to join this particular night-hunt because of Lao Nie’s interference – his brother hadn’t wanted him there, specifically because Lan Qiren was slow and overly fixated on details and not all that handy with a sword – and he was determined not to fall behind. But he was slow, as always, and tired more easily than the others, and then he got distracted and realized a considerable distance had opened up between him and the rest of the group.

He ran to catch up –

He tripped.

He was going to fall flat on his face, he realized as he pitched forward, throwing his hands up in front of his face to try to blunt the pain since humiliation was already a given. He probably wasn’t far enough behind for them not to see this, and then his brother would turn his face away and sigh, aggravated, his shoulders slumping in disappointment at how Lan Qiren had lost him and their sect face all over again.

Lan Qiren was so bound up in his gloomy thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that he had not, in fact, hit the ground.

Someone had caught him.

Even now, they were holding him by the shoulder, keeping him from falling the rest of the way down with a single hand; the posture was awkward, and must be uncomfortable for them.

Lan Qiren straightened himself up immediately and dropped into a deep salute. “Thank you for your help –”

He looked up.

“…Sect Leader Wen,” he finished weakly.

He stared briefly up into red eyes before averting his gaze. He’d thought it was Lao Nie who’d come back to help him, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the familiar Nie colors turning back to the group – perhaps he had come, and was now leaving, since help wasn’t necessary any longer.

He hadn’t expected it to be Wen Ruohan, an ancient monster two generations his elder despite his deceptively youthful face – he hadn’t even realized that Wen Ruohan had decided to tag along on this night-hunt, though of course once he thought about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable. He, like all the other sect leaders, was here for the discussion conference, and a small forest town in the vicinity of the Cloud Recesses did not offer much in the way of other entertainment for outsiders. Why shouldn’t he come along on the night-hunt?

“It’s no matter,” Wen Ruohan said, and it probably wasn’t, for him. Someone with his level of cultivation could hold a kid like Lan Qiren up for a week without noticing the strain. “Did you get distracted by something back there?”

“Small blue flowers,” Lan Qiren said. “Typically associated with certain healing herbs, none of which are native to this area, and growing under an oak of all things; I was wondering if the placement had been deliberate and, if so, by whom and for what purpose. Not to mention when, since those aren’t perennial herbs; they have a longer growing cycle that requires certain meteorological conditions –”

“Aren’t we hunting serpent demons today?” Wen Ruohan asked, and Lan Qiren flinched.

They were, of course. And serpent demons wouldn’t exactly take the time to go plant healing herbs in a wild patch, so it had been a totally pointless diversion.

As usual.

“I got distracted,” Lan Qiren mumbled, his earlier enthusiasm squashed. “I’d say it won’t happen again, but it probably will, and do not lie is a rule.”

Wen Ruohan gave an amused huff. “Ah yes, the famous Lan sect rules. Do you often follow them?”

“Always!”

A hum. “I see. Well, the others have gotten rather far ahead, and I hear the sound of fighting – they must have already found the serpent demons, and will no doubt finish them off by the time we catch up.”

So he’d missed it. Lan Qiren’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“Why don’t you show me your flowers, instead?”

Lan Qiren looked up. Wen Ruohan was smiling.

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously, but Wen Ruohan shrugged and nodded, and, well, Lan Qiren was supposed to be making friends with the members of the other sects, wasn’t he? Maybe no one had been thinking about the Wen sect, especially since Wen Ruohan’s last set of children had all died – someone had broken the prohibition on gossip in Lan Qiren’s presence and suggested that Wen Ruohan had something to do with that, rather than it being just bad luck, and that he’d done it because he thought he was a real immortal and therefore could always start anew, but the idea was so appalling that it surely couldn’t be true – but there wasn’t any real reason to exempt his sect or even him, either. Friends were friends, weren’t they? “It’s this way. Follow me.”

Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and followed Lan Qiren back towards the tree he’d found, his every motion slow and stately as if he were walking in a garden rather than the forest. Lan Qiren found himself mildly jealous.

To distract himself – envying others was against the rules! – he started explaining about the flowers he’d recognized and the types of herbs he thought the plant might be, citing the treatises he’d read about their usual spread and growing patterns and the uses for each one. Somewhere along the line he got distracted, though, because Wen Ruohan mentioned something about the Lan sect rules again, except he got it wrong; there was no rule against excessive verbosity, only against frivolous speech, and while there was a positive rule that counseled speaking meagerly, that was explicitly meant to avoid words that could bring harm and therefore did not apply to intellectual discussions.

Delighted as always to talk about his favorite subject, Lan Qiren promptly launched into an explanation as to the history of the debate as to whether there should be an affirmative prohibition against excessive speech, the various points on either side, the historical texts on the subject, the storied history of the rules regarding the need for an exchange of ideas in furthering education balanced against the exhortation not to take words lightly…

“Look at me,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren obeyed at once. Wen Ruohan was his elder, although not of his sect, and by this point Lan Qiren was used to elders disapproving of how his flickering gaze tended not to settle on people and his preference to look at things through his peripheral vision, and of being ordered to meet their gaze.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were red, as he’d noticed before, and his gaze was heavy and thoughtful, somehow ponderous. It felt almost like pressure against his skin or maybe his mind.

Maybe I should change subjects or be quiet, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the thought coming to him almost involuntarily, but then he realized that if he did, Wen Ruohan wouldn’t hear about the three-day conference that had been held in his great-grandparents’ generation that specifically focused on the rules that related to speech. And that would be an awful shame, wouldn’t it?

So he kept going.

He kept up the eye contact, though. The elders didn’t always like that, either – when he did hold someone’s gaze, he would stare too directly and too long, not knowing when it was appropriate to turn away, but he figured Wen Ruohan would simply tell him. He’d reminded him about the eye contact earlier, hadn’t he?

“How old are you?” Wen Ruohan suddenly asked, just as Lan Qiren was taking a deep breath, having finished explaining the conference and about to launch into a discourse on the follow-up texts that had been written in the immediate aftermath.

Lan Qiren blinked, distracted by the apparent non sequitur. “Thirteen,” he said.

Wen Ruohan hummed thoughtfully. “Thirteen. Interesting.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked, bemused. “I think it’s a rather boring age. I’m old enough for more chores, but not old enough to have free access to the library or go on night-hunts on my own.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. His voice was very deep. “I was more commenting on your strength of mind, which is remarkable for your age. I do not recall the age itself,” he said, his tone a little dry. He was ancient, so it was reasonable for him to forget having been thirteen. “Has anyone ever told you about the ways in which cultivation can be used to influence the thoughts and will of others?”

Lan Qiren thought about it. “I think so? There’s a text that says that weak-willed cultivators can be swayed through external pressure wielded by a stronger person’s cultivation, and the larger the power gap between the cultivators, the more effective the influence can be…I don’t remember which text it was, though. I could look up the citation for you when we return –”

“No need. I am not in search of sources.”

Wen Ruohan probably had his own library full of sources, Lan Qiren reflected, and nodded.

“Oh, we’re here,” he said, noticing, and pointed to the flowers. “See, like I told you earlier, it has the characteristic qualities of –”

“Qiren!”

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was his brother’s voice, and he didn’t sound happy.

“Sect Leader Wen,” his brother said, striding into the clearing where they were standing and saluting in a somewhat perfunctory fashion. “I appreciate you taking the time to watch over my younger brother – please forgive him for any impertinence or insult –”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his ears and his whole face was red with shame. He hated how his brother apologized for him before he even checked whether Lan Qiren had even done anything; it was embarrassing that his brother always thought so little of him.

Maybe he wasn’t talented the way his brother was, but he wasn’t that bad, he didn’t think.

“Think nothing of it, Qingheng-jun,” Wen Ruohan was saying in return. “We were merely spending some time together. I assume the serpent demons have been taken care of?”

“Yes, they have,” Lan Qiren’s brother said. “There’s some debate regarding the disposition of the corpses, if you’d like to join in – forgive us both, but I have to take my brother back to make sure he doesn’t miss curfew.”

Curfew wasn’t for another two shichen, so Lan Qiren had no idea what his brother was talking about, but he obediently saluted Wen Ruohan and followed his brother away.

The moment they were out of view, his brother reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing far too tightly, and tugged meaningfully, glaring when Lan Qiren opened his mouth to protest.

Lan Qiren didn’t understand what his brother was trying to convey.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren started to say, and felt his lips abruptly seal together – it was the muting spell. He could break it, of course, being a member of the Lan sect as well, but his brother was his elder; he should wait patiently until he removed it. Still, he was a little indignant that his brother felt the need to use it on him. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong!

(The glare, he thought. The glare must have been a secret message to not speak, and he’d missed it.)

His brother didn’t say anything as they got on their swords, and he didn’t let go of Lan Qiren’s wrist, either, tugging him along as if he thought Lan Qiren was stupid enough to get lost on the way home. A feeling of shame, the sensation of having made some terrible error and not having realized it again, settled in Lan Qiren’s belly and steadily got worse and worse as they traveled.

It wasn’t until they were back at the inn that was housing everyone during the night-hunt that his brother released his hand.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be alone with Sect Leader Wen,” he said, which surprised Lan Qiren – he’d expected his brother to jump straight into listing out all the ways Lan Qiren had embarrassed him at the night-hunt. He hadn’t been expecting his brother to say something like that at all.

“Why not?” he asked, and his brother glared at him. “You didn’t want to babysit me, and I was falling behind. He wanted to see the flowers –”

“He was humoring you,” his brother interrupted. “Everyone always humors you, but no one actually ever cares about whatever nonsense you’re rambling on about this week. Don’t you know that especially powerful cultivators can affect the mind of the weak-willed?”

Lan Qiren blinked. What a strange coincidence, both his brother and Sect Leader Wen mentioning the exact same thing. “Yes,” he said. “I know. In fact –”

“I don’t want to hear another one of your stupid citations,” his brother said, cutting him off, and making Lan Qiren feel stupid and resentful again – he hadn’t even been about to cite anything! “Anyone who’s ever met you can figure out that you’re little better than a half-wit, all right? Wen Ruohan is a petty person, capable of anything, even only on a whim. Don’t spend time alone with him. Consider it another rule.”

“You don’t have the authority to make rules!”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” his brother snapped, and Lan Qiren bowed his head, acknowledging the point. “Now do me a favor and stay here until the conference is over – I should be back with the rest of them, acting in Father’s place as the sects divide up the spoils. I can’t believe I’m here taking care of you again instead.”

Lan Qiren wrung his hands together. He hadn’t intended anything like that. “Xiongzhang –”

“Have I made myself clear?”

“…yes, xiongzhang.”

“Good.” His brother was on his sword and flying back towards the forest before Lan Qiren could even blink. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

Lan Qiren supposed he didn’t have to. It wasn’t like Lan Qiren was going anywhere.

At least, not yet. He was already thirteen – less than ten years and he’d be advanced enough to go anywhere he liked, to be a traveling musician and cultivator the way he’d always planned. He’d be able to help people and spend time with anyone he liked, or not spend time with anyone at all if he didn’t feel like it, and there would be nothing his brother could do to stop him.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #as many of you guessed this is the long one #WRH is not evil #or that evil anyway #very slow burn #LQR's no good very sad backstory #going to post this M W F and other fics in between

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sodadrabbles · 3 years

Note

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth.

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine.

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back.

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team.

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo x y/n #request #anon #cc!ranboo x reader #cc!ranboo x you #cc!ranboo x y/n

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ayellowcurtain · 3 years

Text

Let me make you go down in history

Chapter 2

Simon watches him sleep again, thinking about their conversation last night. They never openly talk about the one talk that started all of the ones that followed, they just continue living their lives like months hadn't passed in between.

He thinks about when Wilhelm told him he loved Simon, and he didn’t say it back even though he felt it, very much so. He thinks about the texts Wilhelm sent him late at night after the first talk, outside his home before the holidays.

I want you

I WANT YOU

That’s what I want, Simon

And it felt overwhelmingly horrible because he found himself in that moment knowing Wilhelm so well he could read the hurt in those words, that Simon told him to figure out what he wanted like it wasn’t obvious, and that Wilhelm was hurt that Simon doubted him, even if for a second. He meant his words but maybe he wasn’t good at expressing them properly to Wilhelm. Simon doesn’t doubt his feelings, or how hard the whole situation is, your life suddenly changing upside down and then all over again in the space of weeks, between them meeting and Eric dying.

He didn’t reply to those texts either. They didn’t talk for almost three whole weeks. Simon was the one to give in, to check on Wilhelm, and it took him almost a whole day to get an answer.

He could still feel that Wilhelm was hurt by what he had told him the last time they met, but he could also tell Wilhelm was upset to be home, to be right in the middle of the reality he didn’t want to live, that he tried so hard to avoid but it wasn’t really his choice to make. He felt so cold, and tired, even through text, after the long wait to get any answers when Wilhelm was always so quick to answer when they were good.

Last night, while they were lying in the dark, right next to each other, still with barely to no touch or intimacy, Wilhelm said, “I’m not living the life I want. I don’t have any power to choose either. And it hurts me to think the only person that truly knows me thinks I’m choosing to not be with them.”

Simon moved to really look at Wilhelm but he kept looking up, like he was just voicing his thoughts to himself, and not to Simon right there. One of his arms underneath his head, and the other one just carelessly playing with his hair, getting very long at the top.

“Your friends don’t even know you like me. They know we had sex, that there’s a fucking...stupid sex tape out there. All the drama, and the shit. But they don’t know we were actually falling in love, that I wasn’t just...a guy that you were hooking up with.”

Simon knew Wilhelm meant his words, that he was being serious but it’s hard to take him serious when Simon thinks about how he’s the crown prince, the sweetest boy he’s ever met, and how what worries him is that Simon’s friends think they’re a random hook up, and nothing else.

“What?” Wilhelm propped himself on one elbow, a little bit of his worry being forgotten in the back of his mind, smiling at Simon. “What are you laughing about? I’m serious, Simon!”

“I know! I know!” He tried to stop laughing, taking deep breaths in, “It’s just that you have...so many other things to worry about.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Wilhelm…” Simon held himself back from telling Wilhelm about how he’s about to become a king, taking care of so many strangers he doesn’t even know, a whole nation, countless different realities he has absolutely no idea about. He didn’t have to say it then and he doubts he’ll ever have to do it.

Simon knows it by being around Wilhelm, by watching every action being thought through over and over again, every word that Wilhelm holds himself back from saying, he knows that Wille is aware of how much responsibility he carries, liking it or not.

“You are the love of my life.”

Simon feels his mouth dry just thinking about it again, how speechless he was, looking at Wilhelm that seemed so calm and certain, like that was a natural conclusion he came to on the spot, finally turning to look straight at Simon.

They’re still so young. But he knows what Wilhelm was talking about, the feeling at least, that this is not something everyone has the opportunity to feel, especially not this young. Some people might live their whole lives without experiencing what they feel when they’re together.

"I really like you. And your smell..." Wilhelm moved slowly from his back to his stomach, half lying on top of Simon, gently nuzzling against his neck, breathing so slow it made Simon's skin go rough, and sensitive.

"And your taste..." He kissed Simon's neck, making him close his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together to not make a single noise that he knows he can do.

"Wille..."

Wilhelm purred in response, and Simon tried to breathe normally, putting his hand on the back of Wilhelm's neck, squeezing to ground himself, holding himself back from giving in, finally kissing Wilhelm.

"Stop..."

He did as he was told, and looked at Simon, with his messy hair, bright red cheeks, and sad eyes, clearly sad that Simon is still very much trying to keep their close friendship just a friendship.

He moved back, avoiding meeting Simon's eyes, lying back in bed, looking up at the boring, white ceiling.

“Sorry…”

Wilhelm lifted his hips up to turn, moving heavily to lie on his other side, his back to Simon, his arms crossed awkwardly over his chest, and Simon snuggled closer, putting his arms around Wilhelm’s waist, burying his nose against his back, holding his hands when Wilhelm adjusted his position to hold his hands.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” Simons squeezed his hands, kissing his back. “I’ll never leave you, Wilhelm.”

“I’m doing things on your terms.”

Simons smiled, closing his eyes, pushing his face against Wilhelm’s back.

He’s so perfect, still asleep in the same position they were last night. And it’s so hard not to be with him completely.

Wilhelm listens to Simon like very few could even try, and Simon is amazed that he’s real, and that he likes Simon, having the whole world on his feet, Wilhelm likes Simon.

Wilhelm opens his hands suddenly in his still half asleep haze, and their fingers intertwine again, and it doesn’t take long until they fall asleep holding each other tight again. Simon wishes he was even more present to hold Wilhelm tighter if he knew what would come after.

The holiday weeks away from each other felt shorter than the months that came after that night. Looking back now, Wilhelm’s words now feel like a warning. Simon never really wanted them to be apart, he just needed Wilhelm to understand life doesn’t go as he wants and when he wants it, at his pace, that Simon would just sit quietly, and accept half a person because he’s sure he deserves better.

Wille needs the time, and the space to focus on himself. Or at least Simon thought he could understand all of that while still being around, as a friend, his best friend. Simon said Wilhelm needed to figure out what he wanted because it would be easier if they kept some distance between them. Wilhelm had a lot going on, and Simon didn’t want to be in his way, holding him back - or himself back - in any way.

So Wilhelm found a way to keep himself busy and distant. Or studying, or with his bodyguards working out very early in the morning, or with the boys, his friends that slowly filled some of the space Simon had left.

They still talked, it seems impossible for them to be completely away from each other, but Wilhelm was distant, like he didn’t want to get too close, afraid to cross Simon’s limits or to get too close and not be able to hold himself back.

Even from afar, Simon knew Wilhelm wasn’t doing as good as he pretended to be doing. His nails were so short, the corners of his fingers were always bruised. While in class, he kept tapping his feet, taking too many long breaths, trying to calm himself.

Simon thought about reaching out, just hugging him to see if it would help, but he held himself back. He was the one that said Wilhelm needed to figure things out, that things weren’t going to be as Wilhelm wanted...

Months went by filled with the growing anxiety in both of them, and with that, Simon started to lose his mind slowly with the lack of Wilhelm, of talking to him, of just being close to him with nobody else around, making sure he was okay. He missed how they were around each other, how he felt when he was in constant contact with Wilhelm, being themselves, he missed kissing him…

To Wille: hey

He texts him late at night again, feeling stupid for how anxious he gets, how his eyes start to water with frustation, and anger, and the overwhelming yearning.

To Simon: hi

To Wille: are you busy?

The bubbles appear, and disappear and Simon rolls his eyes, feeling like throwing his phone against the nearest wall.

To Simon: no haha

It’s late, I’m in bed.

Why?

Did something happen?

Simon shakes his head, closing his eyes not to cry. Fuck it, he thinks as he types quickly.

To Wille: I miss you

Can we meet?

He keeps checking but he never gets a text back. Simon drops his phone on his bed and gets up, walking around in stupidly small circles because he’s staying at school this year after all. He couldn’t let his sister stay here alone, and she was happy to find her magical way to put him inside too.

Wilhelm is too good of a listener, too polite and good to disobey any order, ever. This is Simon’s worst nightmare and exactly what he asked Wilhelm to do, doesn’t matter if the scenario helps him or not. It means Wille will follow his mom’s requests or Simon’s because that’s who he is. Too good at following orders.

Suddenly, three knocks on his door, and Simon jumps, looking at the door. He exhales a smile, rushing until he’s holding the doorknob, trying to calm himself. He opens the door carefully and Wille is there, hands deep inside his pockets, his shoulders up high, one bodyguard right behind him.

Simon exhales, standing to the side, and Wilhelm gets inside, holding the door for himself, closing and locking it behind him. Simon walks to his nightstand, leaning against it, holding the edge tightly, looking at Wilhelm and nobody else. They’re finally alone, and Wilhelm is bare, like Simon is used to seeing him, no walls around him, the thick walls he builds filled with small, quiet answers, with people around them to keep them from giving in.

His eyes are soft again, filled with expectations, and he adjusts his hair behind his ears like he does when he’s nervous, Simon is surprised he’s not biting his nails too.

“I’m really tired of my terms…” Simon exhales shakingly, “Like...really tired.”

He crashes into Wilhelm before he can think twice, holding his face in his hands, kissing him like he’s been thinking for months, and Wilhelm holds him right back. His hands feel cold even through the thin fabric of Simon’s shirt, squeezing his waist tightly, stumbling back, trying to find the bed.

“No video game today?” Wille asks against his lips, smiling so bright. Simon shakes his head, quick to take Wille’s shirt off, pushing him to sit on the bed.

#young royals #young royals netflix #prince wilhelm #wilhelm #wilhelm x simon #simon #simon young royals #wilhelm young royals

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duckprintspress · 3 years

Text

What is a Story?

When Duck Prints Press put out our call for applicants, we asked everyone to submit “a sample of their work (between 1,000 and 2,000 words)… [that] must function as a short story.” When we reviewed the 100+ samples we received, we noticed many areas where writers commonly struggled. Based on what we learned, we’ve planned a number of blog posts to discuss these challenging areas, and we’ve decided to tackle one of the most frequent issues first. Many otherwise strong submissions lost points on our rubric line regarding “plot and events,” and specifically, they scored a 1 or a 2 because “the story has no plot (for example, is a vignette).”

So, this begs the question, what is a story, and, of course, what isn’t a story?

(note that throughout this post, I use the word “narrative” to refer to any amount of text that may or may not be a story, and I use story only in a more narrow, specific sense.)

What is a story?

The answer is deceptively simple: a story is any narrative that has a plot. But...what is a plot? There are many ways to define a plot, but at its most basic, a plot has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and by the ending, something has changed. If, at the end of the story, nothing has changed, then it’s not a story. However, even if something has changed, it’s still not necessarily a story, because characters and time-frame also influence the definition. A narrative without at least one character is not a story. Likewise, a narrative time-frame, if it’s discussing events at a meta-level (“this happened, then this happened, then this happened”) may show that changes occur, but it’s still not a story - it’s an overview or an outline. The lines, of course, can be blurry - and where any given author, reader, or DPP reviewer draws the line between “this is a story” and “this isn’t a story” will vary.

How is a story communicated to the reader?

To function as a story, the narrative must include characters. Now, character doesn’t necessarily have to mean person, or even require sentience, but there must be some point of view being explored, and if the character is an animal or an inanimate object, writing it as a character will require a degree of anthropomorphizing. The key aspect is that the character has some form of agency - some ability to interact with and influence their surroundings. This character will have a point of view and a perspective that affects how they perceive the story’s setting, and by the end of the story this character should have either changed themselves, or changed their surroundings, or changed their relationships. The circumstances around this character must be different by the end of the story than they were at the beginning - or else it’s not a story.

What is change?

As part of the narrative, one or more characters in the story must engage in some form of activity that results in the world around them changing. Writing advice most oftenly calls this “conflict,” but honestly? I hate that word. The classic couching of “person vs. self, person vs. person, person vs. nature, person vs. society, person vs. fate” as the available types of conflict is tired. Defining the only kind of change as conflict and specifically describing it as “x versus y” is to automatically get a potential writer thinking in terms of antagonism. While antagonism is one available type of change, it’s not the only, and while many pieces of writing advice point out that these “versus” constructions don’t mean enmity by nature...why not simply choose a less confusing construction, one that doesn’t require addenda to explain the existence of narratives that clearly are stories but are less “versus” and more “and” - “person and self,” “person and person,” “person and nature,” “person and society,” “person and fate.” I’ve opted to use the word change, because one of the clearest ways to tell if a narrative is a story or not is to look at the nature of the character(s) are at the beginning, and look at the nature of them at the end, and say - what’s different? Maybe they’ve built something. Maybe they’ve reached a new understanding. Maybe they’ve conquered a challenge. Maybe they’ve altered their perspective. Maybe they’ve learned something. Maybe, they’ve changed the world, or maybe, they’ve just changed a light bulb - but something has changed.

Before some writing snob comes at me and says, “okay, fine, we dare you to come up with a plot that doesn’t fit into the classic five conflict types” ...of course we can’t. That model functions because all stories can be shoehorned into it, as long as very loose definition of “conflict” and “versus” are used. But because it’s described in oppositional terms, a lot of writers get distracted by that terminology and think there has to be, well, a conflict, in the narrow definition of the word. And that’s clearly absurd - many of our favorite fanfiction tropes, for example, are fluffy and comforting and soft precisely because they’re not about conflict, they’re about harmony. Yes, “enemies to lovers” is wonderful, but so is “friends to lovers.” Two people going on a date that ends with a marriage proposal is a story: they started out as a couple and ended engaged. Something has changed - their relationship status. But to call that “person versus person,” while perhaps technically correct, is ludicrous. Now, to keep it interesting, there might be some “person versus self” - “I’m not worthy of this love, omg do they really care for me, oh will society give us problems if we say yes?” which is how it can be shoehorned into the “conflict” model. But be it ever so soft, and their love ever so accepted, and their faith in each other ever so steady - if there really is no conflict, just those two people meeting up and having a nice night and ending in a proposal...it’s still a story. To say it’s not a story because there was no conflict, only an advancement of their relationship...yes, a story like that is borderline to being a vignette or “slice of life” narrative. Certainly, if there’s zero sources of tension, it may not be a very interesting story, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a story.

What else does a story need?

Honestly - not much. Don’t get us wrong - a story is stronger if it has a setting so that it doesn’t just take place in endless blankness. A story with multiple characters but no form of dialog (verbal or non-verbal) may be a little flat. A story where something changes but some of the introduced plot elements aren’t resolved will feel incomplete to a reader. A story without any negativity could be boring. Stories lacking these elements may not be good stories...or they could be amazing, and innovative, showing how a tale can be told without elements we usually consider essential! As long as something or someone has changed, and the story is told in a narrative, descriptive format that includes a character - it’s a story.

What isn’t a story?

Things that aren’t stories fall into two broad categories:

Narratives that have description, characters, dialogue, setting, and other story elements, but nothing changes. Examples of this are “slice of life” narratives and what, in fandom-parlance, would be called an episode coda or canon insert - a chunk of narrative deliberately meant to make a bridge between two established events but in which nothing can change because the surrounding events remain established. (A coda or insert might be a story, it varies.)

Narratives that are either entirely “show” (for example, a vignette) or entirely “tell” (for example, a synopsis), These can also be seen as relating to time - either there’s little or no passage of time (usually the case in vignettes) or far too much passage of time (usually the case in synopses). Narratives like this may or may not include a character, but even if they do, they’re still not stories. Why not? Because any story that is entirely “show” and involves minimal passage of time is unlikely to result in change, and instead will be an extended description of a moment. And any story that is entirely “tell” and depicts a large swath are overviews - there’s no element to actually grab a reader and no reason the reader should care about this dry relationship of events. That’s not a story - it’s a history textbook.

Drawing the lines between these categories can be difficult, and to some extent will come down to taste. Anyone who says there’s a hard-and-fast rule in writing is a liar. Just because a synopsis or a “slice of life” narrative isn’t usually a story doesn’t mean they will never be one. But, in general, if you’re looking at a piece of work and you’re trying to determine if it’s a story or not, there are some signs that will strongly suggest it’s not a story:

There are no characters.

There is no setting.

Nothing has changed between the beginning and ending of the narrative.

The entire narrative is an extended description of a single person/object/setting.

The entire narrative could easily be reworded into a sequence of, “thing one happened, then thing two happened, then thing three happened, then thing four happened.”

The narrative feels like a “pause,” or a “bridge” that takes place between two events that aren’t depicted in the narrative.

A central conflict or issue is introduced or described in details, but nothing is done to try to solve the issue.

Now, for the most important part of this discussion of what isn’t a story: writing something that isn’t a story isn’t a bad thing! Especially in fanfiction communities, we live for self-indulgent narratives that make us happy. We love to see those “moments between.” We live for a thought-out thousand-year history for some setting that didn’t originally have that much background. These kinds of narratives are fun to write, and especially when they’re part of an existing franchise, can be a delight to read. We are not saying that there is literally anything wrong with writing a narrative that isn’t a story.

That said, Duck Prints Press’s applicant call specifically asked authors to submit a writing sample that was a story, with the eventual goal of selecting authors to write short stories for an anthology. Which is to say: there’s nothing wrong at all with writing “slice of life” stories, codas, canon inserts, vignettes, or synopses - it’s simply not what we asked people to submit in this specific case, and we’ve come to see that a lot of people submitted non-stories without an apparent understanding of the difference, and we wanted to explain that difference.

But, to everyone reading this: write whatever brings you joy, in as much detail or vagueness as makes you happy, and share it with whoever you want. Just also understand, that for many types of narratives, if you’re asked “is that a story?” it’s not. That’s not to create a hierarchy - they’re all equal as art forms, they’re just not the same.

Okay I kinda understand this in theory but what do these differences actually look like in practice?

In long-form works, it’s usually relatively easy to recognize what is a story and what isn’t. Almost every novel ever published has a plot, and has things change, and is therefore a story. (though there are exceptions - Wikipedia lists a few longer vignettes and, when done thoughtfully, it can be astonishingly effective.) However, in shorter works, it can be difficult to tell the difference - and, as previously mentioned, the lines can blur.

In the interest of giving an idea of what the differences are, here are a few examples I quickly cooked up to try to show you all, since I’ve done a lot of “telling” so far (this blog post: also not a story, ha!) and very little demonstration. These are each around 150 words, to show that even in a tiny word count, any of these narrative structures is a viable choice. (Sorry these aren’t high literature - I just threw them together for this post, so I’d have something that suited.)

(read more)

A story - a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, where something changes:

The door slammed open. Looking up from her embroidery, Victoria blinked as Margaret strode into the room.There was an air of expectancy that was inexplicable to Victoria; she grew more confused when Margaret approached and dropped to one knee.

“What are you doing?” Heart pounding, Victoria attempted self-restraint, but she couldn’t rein in her hope, because it almost looked like...it seemed like...but--

“Proposing,” announced Margaret, pulling a velvet-covered box from her pocket and opening to reveal an emerald set in a gold band.

“But you can’t!”

Margaret tilted her head to the side and frowned. “Why not?”

Objections occurred to Victoria, but examining them...she couldn’t think of a one that Margaret wouldn’t demolish with her usual brilliance. “You know what? You’re right. Who’s to stop us? And...I accept.”

And as Margaret slipped the ring onto Victoria’s finger, she knew: there could be no objection. Nothing had ever felt so right in her life.

“Slice of life” - a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, where nothing changes:

“What a day!” said James, dropping onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

“I know what you mean,” Tom agreed. He fumbled a hand across the cushion separating them, and James delighted in the simple comfort of threading their fingers together.

A beep, beep, beep sounded in the kitchen, announcing that the microwave had finished nuking their leftovers.

“You getting that?” asked Tom.

“It’s your turn!” James countered.

“But I don’t want to let go of your hand.” Tom gave his hand a squeeze, and a pleased glow suffused James’s chest.

It was Tom’s turn to retrieve their dinner.

But Tom was right - holding hands was wonderful.

“Let’s get it together,” James suggested.

Hesitating, Tom remained still as James sit up and gave a tug on their joined arms, then he broke into a smile and rose at James’s side.

“I love the way you think.”

“I love you, too, darling”

And together - always together - they got their dinner.

“Bridge” scene, episode coda, or canon insert-style fic - a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, where nothing changes:

Arriving home after the battle, Sandy opened the rough-hewn door and shed her damaged armor. Her dented cuirass had left an aching bruise across her chest; she carried it to the smithy out back for repair in the morning. A gash on her thigh throbbed where an arrow had pierced the straps holding her greaves in places; she brought them to her leather-working station. Nicks and fissures marred her once-gleaming sword blade. All Sandy wanted was to collapse in bed, but resisted the pull of relaxation, because blood limned the damaged places red, and repair to the damaged weapon couldn’t wait. Taking a seat, placed her feet on the treadles that set her whet stone to spinning and set about polishing out every imperfection.

Yes, she was exhausted.

But her sword must be cleaned, and smoothed, and honed, and prepared.

Sandy must be prepared.

There would always be another battle to be fought.

Vignette, a narrative without a beginning, a middle, or an end, which may or may not have a character, and nothing changes and in which the emphasis is on showing, rather than telling (but, as in this example, a combination may be used):

The wind blew chill down the narrow mountain pass. All was silent, save for the rush of the breeze. All was still, save where gusts stirred the tall grasses and the branches of trees that reached, claw-like, toward the sky.

Once upon a time, a stream had carved this cut through the cliffs, forcing its way through soft chalk and hard shale, leaving jagged stones that emerged from the steep pass walls like teeth. The stream was long dry, now, only water-smoothed stones strewn across the ground to show where it had ever been.

Once upon a time, travellers had traversed the dried-up rill bed, pounding down the dirt, knocking the rocks aside, leaving scars where their fires burned. They’d lived, and laughed, and explored, and sought...and left, never to return.

Now, there was nothing: nothing but the storm.

And all was silent.

And all was still.

And the wind blew, chill, down the narrow mountain pass.

Synopsis, a narrative with a beginning, a middle and an end, which may or may not have characters, and where something changes, and in which the emphasis is on telling rather showing:

Emperor Xiang Zhen was born in 9884 to Dowager Empress Luo Zexi and the warlord Xiang Yijun. After his birth, there was a long period of strife. Those who supported Xiang Yijun’s claim to the throne battled those who still supported the Dowager Empress’s deceased husband Peng Zhenya. Eventually, the factions found common ground when Xiang Zhen came of age, and he was enthroned in 9902.

With his reign came peace and prosperity. The arts flourished. Scholarship advanced, and many great Dao masters arose, using cultivation to rid the land of evil’s left by the long war. Xiang Zhen longed to join a Night Hunt himself, but he was trapped by his political position. He didn’t dare risk the fragile stability in the Empire. If something happened to him, the results could be catastrophic. So he studied, and ruled, and adjudicated, and endowed, and endured.

Xiang Zhen did as he must.

But, oh...he wished he weren’t alone.

I know this is long, so we’ll leave this discussion at this point. Hopefully you found it helpful, and please do let me know if you have any questions! Duck Prints Press is always here to offer support to writers, and we love getting writing asks!

#duck prints press #writing advice #original content

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

Text

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety. Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.

Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out.

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?”

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored.

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!”

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked.

“...No.”

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?”

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?”

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained.

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?”

Virgil waited.

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added.

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure.

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly.

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.”

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!”

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone.

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to.

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop.

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully.

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them.

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?”

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.”

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.”

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight.

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.”

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped.

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?”

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.”

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie.

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.”

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?”

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over.

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?”

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.”

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment.

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.”

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket.

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them.

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something?

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible.

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it.

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.”

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?”

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.”

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say.

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe.

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?”

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.”

“Right, right,” Virgil said.

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked.

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him.

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?”

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?”

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.”

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?”

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed.

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off.

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear.

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked.

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.”

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying.

Logan shook his head. “No, never.”

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness.

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired.

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building.

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area.

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway.

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby.

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.”

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.”

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?”

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him.

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him.

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.”

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries.

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly.

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began.

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise.

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.”

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face.

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.”

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding.

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus.

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words.

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it.

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly.

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead.

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees.

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red.

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.”

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it.

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.”

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus.

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.”

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.”

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?”

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?”

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed.

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees.

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?”

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while.

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!”

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge.

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked.

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.”

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching.

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?”

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.”

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.”

“But, like, research? Drafts?”

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil.

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him.

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.”

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.”

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to.

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.”

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?”

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking.

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?”

Logan perked up. “Really?”

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it.

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?”

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05

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yoongi-sugaglider · 3 years

Text

Artemis Rising

The story of a Goddess and a Demi God, star crossed lovers whose story was lost to the complexity of history. The truth is they were wronged. All because of the jealousy of a brother. Can they escape their fate in a modern age? Can reincarnation allow her to finally reunite with the ones who loved her?

genre: angst ; reincarnation/Greek mythology au ; werewolf au

pairing: Yoongi x reader; ot7 x reader ; ft: Ateez

warnings: abusive relationship, physical abuse towards reader, vengeful ot7, inaccurate description of Ateez as aggressive (they’re sweet babies I swear! But Eomma needed a bad guy), fighting, character death, of age drinking (more to be added mayhaps?)

Word count: 3197

Chapter 2

Above the moon waned, it’s glorious light barely casting a glow upon the stilled seas that would normally grace sweet Gaia’s shores.

“My child, why do you weep so?” Leto stepped from the shadows. The soothing calm that normally encased the Titan Goddess of motherhood was gone, replaced with a sense of distress and panic at the sight of her precious daughter weeping upon a piece of sea swept driftwood.

“Mother…” Artemis sobbed, reaching out to the tall figure and crumpling into her lap.

“Artemis, my darling. Speak to me. Who is the cause of your tears?”

It took the moon goddess a while to answer, so wrapped up in her grief that her entire body trembled and the moon shed a little more of its light, now barely a sliver in the sky.

“It’s O...Orion. He’s...he’s gone mother. By mine own hand…”

Leto gasped, pulling away to stare down at Artemis with wide eyes.

“The young hunter boy? The one who’d caught your eye and joined you in your hunts?”

“The very same. Oh mother what do I do?”

The night wore on as the goddess of the moon wept, seeking comfort in the arms of Leto who could only stroke her back in comfort and attempt to soothe her broken soul.

The sun began to rise, it’s golden glow muted and pale as Apollo approached.

“Son. Is this your doing?” A hint of anger leached into the benevolent Titan’s voice as she gave her only son a heated stare.

“Mother...I…”

“You knew it was him!” Artemis stood, short sword in hand as she rounded on her once beloved brother. “You knew and you challenged me anyway! All of this born of your stupid misplaced jealousy!”

“Sister, please I just…”

Artemis cut him off, lunging forward with all of the intent of driving the golden steel of the Gods through his chest.

“Artemis no!!”

***

Panic gripped me as I lunged forward, arm outstretched as if attempting to reach...something.

I shook my head in bewilderment, hoping the motion would wake me up enough to remember the dream that had left me with tear stained cheeks and a pillow soaked in my own grief. As with every other dream of mine though, it’d faded too fast. A wisp of a thing fading away in the morning light.

I sighed, finally allowing my hand to fall to the coolness of the bedsheet. A glance beside me let me know that once again Hongjoong had woken long before me...that or he’d never come to bed as the sheets beside me were as cold and empty as always.

I sighed again, letting the loneliness of the early morning caress my cheeks and dry the tears left over from the formless nightmare. Eventually I was able to get myself motivated enough to get up and start the day. It was honestly a perk working from home that I didn’t have a specific time to get up. But I preferred working on my writing early on in the day so that I could have the evenings to myself to relax and do whatever needed to be done before Hongjoong got home.

After a quick shower and change of clothes I made my way down to the kitchen in the hopes of having a quiet breakfast.

"Miss…"

I couldn't help the squeak that left my lips when Yeosang's strong, deep voice echoed through the vast expanse of the kitchen. Eyes wide I stared at his broad back, confused as to how he even knew I was standing in the doorway. Standing at the stove was Seonghwa, cooking away in a world of his own.

At Yeosang’s acknowledgement of my presence Seonghwa glanced over to me. I couldn’t help but wither under his intense stare. A frown formed between his eyebrows as he took in the bruise on my left cheek that I’d failed to cover up with several layers of concealer along with the way I shrunk away from their combined stares.

Neither of them commented though and it came as a relief that they turned back to their respective tasks after a moment more of silence.

“There’s omelet rolls on the way. Meat’s cooked and on the table.” Seonghwa’s words weren’t spoken to anyone but I knew they were aimed at me. Whispering out a quick thank you I scurried over to the dining table, head down and eyes pinned to the small pile of bacon sitting before me.

The rest of the meal was delivered quickly, the imposing men’s silence deafening as usual as they seemed to tiptoe around me. I’d come to expect and accept it at this point as it seemed that each of my bodyguards was absolutely terrified of reaching out to me in any way.

I could have used the comfort. Used some sort of touch or a soothing word to get through the monotony of my days. But I suppose that’s what Yoongi was for…

So I turned to him. Once dishes were done and put away I began texting him, checking in on his day, asking the usual best friend questions and hanging on to every time the phone would vibrate while I worked in the relative quiet of my little writing corner. Before I’d even realized it, the day had moved on without me.

I glanced up out of the window, startling myself at the abrupt darkness that had swallowed the day and cast the world into the deepest recesses of twilight. Somehow I’d missed lunch and dinner, and the hunger gnawed at my stomach in a way that made me nervous just thinking about it.

Hongjoong would be home by now, and the mere thought of facing him after last night set me on edge.

“Have you been holed up in here all day?”

I couldn’t help the squeak of fear that escaped me. Whipping around I stared wide eyed at Hongjoong who’d somehow walked into my office without me hearing and was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hongjoong...I...I didn’t hear you come in…” I pressed my hand against my chest, struggling to still the rapid beating of my heart.

He smirked, dropping his arms and pushing away from the doorframe. His movements were so smooth, so calculated. My gaze swept his figure as he stalked towards me like a predator, noting he was still in his business suit and tie though the latter was untied and hung loosely from his neck.

“Good. You weren’t supposed to.”

I shrunk down in my chair as he towered over me, shadows cast on his face making it hard to gauge his mood or what he could possibly want with me.

“Your meeting. It went well I hope?” No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shove the slight quiver in my voice down and I hated myself for it. Hated that his presence alone struck such a level of fear in me even without him having done anything.

“Hmm…” His noncommittal hum echoed through the room and some part of me screamed in disgust at the way my body sagged with relief when he turned away from me and moved back to the bedroom door.

“I met with a few social acquaintances of mine.” Ever so slowly he closed the door, as if shutting the world out of our conversation. It wasn’t really necessary, no one here would ever dare walk in on him without announcing themselves first.

“Oh?” My tongue darted out to wet my lips and his eyes followed the motion almost hungrily. I couldn’t help but suppress the shudder of fear that raced through my bloodstream.

“You’re...acquaintances with that popular boy band...yes?” I couldn’t quite tell what he was after. His tone of voice was flat, almost as if he was already bored with the conversation even though he’d been the one to initiate it.

I turned in my computer chair to face him fully, watching as he leaned heavily on the closed door and folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m friends with them, yeah. Is...there…”

The sly grin that flashed across his face set every alarm bell ringing in my head. He was planning something, and the implications could honestly mean anything but none of it was anything good.

“I want you to invite them to the party tomorrow night. Make sure they come, no exceptions.”

I blinked, head tilting to the side as I followed his every move. He pushed away from the wall, stalking over to me slowly. It took everything in me to sit still instead of retreating back into myself as the predatory threat loomed over me in the form of Hongjoong’s imposing figure.

I stared at his chest for a moment as he pressed his hands on either side of me on the desk, effectively caging me in. When I’d finally found the nerve to look him in the eyes the fire there had me instantly shrinking in on myself.

“I want them there, no exceptions. No excuses.”

“Y...yes, okay Hongjoong…”

He continued staring at me for a long moment, face morphing into various emotions from distaste to mistrust and finally settling on neutral disgust. Grabbing my chin he pulled me close, sealing his lips against mine in some form of possessive dominance that had me melting in to him despite every cell of my being wanting to pull away and protect myself from him.

“That’s my good girl.” Patting my cheek he turned and marched off, leaving me confused and irritated with myself for the display of weakness.

***

“Hyung, remind me why we agreed to this again?” Jungkook coughed, slim fingers curled into the collar of his tie as he struggled to breathe around it.

“Because y/n asked us to, that’s why.” Seokjin growled, grabbing the young boy by the arm and twirling him just enough to reposition the tie accordingly and allow Jungkook to breathe.

“Well, I mean besides that…'' Jungkook blushed, eyes darting through the entryway and into the rest of the massive mansion. It’d taken everything Yoongi had to convince them to take their one day off to support their best friend. They’d been all for it up until he mentioned it’d been to support Kim Hongjoong’s ‘important announcement’. At that point they’d just about all gotten up and walked away until he mentioned she’d begged him specifically.

“Well here’s to hoping the food is at least good…” Taehyung muttered as he shoved his way into the entry hall and tossed his overly long coat at the poor overloaded coat rack in the corner.

“I swear if that fucker tries to make trouble for her tonight I’m going to tear his throat out.” Hoseok growled, eyes narrowed to slits as he’d just spotted the man in question.

Hongjoong strutted across the hall, disappearing through the large glass doors that led out to the lanai and the massive back yard where the main portion of the party was held.

“We’ll do no such thing.” Namjoon said. He placed a calming hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, giving the younger men each a piercing look that set them back to their relaxed state of alert once more.

“At least not until she’s ready to let him go and come home with us.” Yoongi huffed. He nodded for the lanai. “Let’s get out there, our girl needs us.”

The group complied, putting on their idol faces and smiling and waving to the small crowd that gathered as soon as they stepped out into the fairy light lit backyard. Finding her wasn’t hard. She flitted to and fro, handling one disaster or another while keeping a small smile plastered on her face as she played hostess to the hundreds of guests that’d been invited to witness whatever it was Hongjoong had planned to announce.

There even appeared to be several high ranking members of the press hanging around. Most hovering over the buffet style food tables while others interviewed various members of the staff along with guests in the hopes of getting an exclusive on what this party could be about.

“Vultures…” Yoongi muttered as he nursed the cup of punch he’d been handed by some faceless waiter.

“Aye, but they have their use. Keeps the eye on Hongjoong and off of me.” The soft voice that whispered beside him had him instantly grinning.

“Well hi there gorgeous.” He turned to her, eyes darting over her form to take in the sultry green dress she’d donned. The silken material hugged her in places that had him salivating, luckily though he was able to school his features quickly before she or anyone else could notice the hungry look he’d barely been able to control.

“Oh hush Yoongs. You know this is my least favorite dress.” She blushed, turning away from him to subtly fan the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Yeah, that may be. But anyone would be a fool not to appreciate what you’re flaunting.” He snickered half heartedly, hoping she’d take it as a joke and not as the truth he so desperately wanted to scream at her no matter who happened to be watching.

“Thank you for coming, Yoongi…” She whispered, eyes darting over to the grand stage Hongjoong had insisted be set up in the center of the garden.

“Anything for you little moon.” His words went unheard though as Hongjoong chose that moment to clear his throat into the microphone and interrupt any conversation that may have been taking place.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! I’d like to have your attention for a moment if you don’t mind!”

“As you are all aware, my family has been a leading edge to our beautiful city for many a generation. My father swore to uphold the law to the best of his ability, and when he passed several years ago it left a void in so many people’s hearts. His father before him served as well, standing with his fellow citizens to fight against oppression and the government corruption that’d been keeping us all down up until his final breath.” Hongjoong bowed his head as the crowd applauded, cheering his forefathers and shouting various praises as to Hongjoong’s own accomplishments.

He held up a hand, shooting them all a winning smile as they quieted down to allow him to continue.

“Pompous prick…” Yoongi muttered, taking a sip of his punch to hide the movement of his lips.

“Tonight we are gathered here, not only in celebration, but in unity. To come together not as reporters and millionaires and chefs and idols. But as fellow citizens brought together by a single cause, to make this city great again! To make our neighborhoods safer and our children safer. To bring us all together under one unified cause so that we can make Seoul great again!”

The crowd roared to life, cheering Hongjoong’s name and surging forward to crowd the stage as he smiled upon them on like so many obedient children.

“And so!” He spoke over the cheers, somehow making himself heard despite the noise. “I’m officially announcing myself as being in the running for mayor. Rejoice! For change is here!”

The woman beside Yoongi squeaked, her face deathly pale as she seemed to be on the verge of either throwing up or passing out. Yoongi knew that look, knew the impending panic attack that came along with it and began ushering her towards the relative safety of the house.

“Yoongi I…”

“Hush little moon, let’s get you inside and away from this crowd.” His fingers curled around her arm and she seemed to want to lean into the touch, but just before they could reach the door she stopped and turned to him with a wide eyed stare.

“I...I was supposed to make sure we had more sauce for the shrimp cocktail… I...I can’t go in just yet…”

A throat cleared behind them and Yoongi instantly dropped his hand, turning to address the newly announced politician.

“Hongjoong..” Yoongi nodded, barely a jerk of his head in confirmation of the man’s presence really but it was just visible enough as to not seem disrespectful of the man’s status.

“Ah! The famous Min Yoongi!” The politician grinned, pulling his woman close and gripping her hip tightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard many good things about you from my precious fiancé.”

Yoongi grunted in response. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, claws growing and sharpening in response to his growing rage. At the first pinch of pain as they broke the skin he released his fists, forcing his fingers to hang limply at his side.

“Y/n, have you dealt with the catering issues my dear?”Hongjoong turned to her, eyes piercing into her own. It was him dismissing her from the conversation.

She glanced over to Yoongi, eyes filled with apology as she bowed low to the both of them, nearly bent in half as she excused herself from the conversation.

Hongjoong watched her leave, his stare predatory in nature as he watched her disappear into the crowd.

“I heard you’re running for mayor.” Yoongi spoke quietly, knowing the puffed up man would be able to hear him over the noise of the crowd of partygoers.

“Ah, you have?” Hongjoong turned back to Yoongi, that predatory glare still filling his eyes with an insanity that only those born to create chaos and destroy others could possess. “It’s a lofty goal I know. But I feel the need to change things comes with power. And this world could really use a little bit of change don’t you think?”

Yoongi knew he didn’t mean positive change of any kind. This man was far too prone to violence to mean anything more than chaos and destruction.

“How does y/n feel about all this?” Yoongi casually took a sip of his drink. He angled his body away from Hongjoong slightly, eyes darting around the garden. He spotted Jimin and Namjoon heading towards y/n and a small part of him relaxed greatly.

“Y/n? Now why would her opinion matter in the slightest?”

At that Yoongi returned the entirety of his attention to the mad man. “Why...she’s going to be your wife soon. Doesn’t the idea that she’s being thrust into the limelight bother her?”

Hongjoong shrugged, lifting his glass to take a sip of champagne. “Honestly no. She knew my goals before she said yes. If she has anything negative to say about it she’ll tell me and we can address it accordingly.”

The pure menace in his tone let Yoongi know the discussion wouldn’t be very long and would almost surely end up with her gaining a new bruise or two, if not a trip to the hospital.

“For her sake Hongjoong...I really do hope you have her best interests at heart…” Yoongi turned to the man, his drink long forgotten as he fixed the man with a fierce glare.

“Because if anything else happens to her and I find you...you’ll wish you’d stayed in whatever gutter hole you crawled out of to get here.”

#bts x reader #bts soulmate au #bts werewolf au #bts greek god au #bts mythology au #bts angst #ateez angst #ateez greek god au #bts min yoongi x reader

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geekywritings · 3 years

Text

JUNGKOOK X READER PART 2 - Is this real life or am I in a drama?

Part 2 of my little Jungkook x Reader story. For all who need a recap of Part 1: You are a young vet, just trying to make your way home from work when suddenly Jungkook falls right into your car, taking refuge from a group of sasaengs. You give him a ride home and he exchanges contact details with you, promising to stay in touch.

The prompt for part 2 is: “It’s pouring rain, why are you here?”

For the next few days, all you could think about was that meeting. It still seemed so very surreal. And you didn’t even dare tell anyone about the incident, because who would really believe you? Even your best friends and work colleagues would just raise and eyebrow and shake their heads most likely. Such things simply didn’t happen to people. They were part of k-drama scripts or popular web toons and after a week, you did start to wonder if it had all been some kind of strange dream.

But exactly that evening, when you had just come out of the shower to enjoy a cup of tea and a new episode of your favourite show, your phone beeped with a new Kakao Talk message. You gave your phone a lazy glance and then almost dropped your mug when you saw it was from none other than Jungkook.

JK: “I’m sorry for the late reply, Miss Vet. Things got kinda hectic. But I have not forgotten my promise. I still owe you that thank you.”

You had to reread that message a few times and for a second you wondered if it was a scam perhaps, but who else would now about that event but him? For a second you wondered what to answer before typing:

Y/N: “No problem. You are an idol after all. And you did already thank me.”

It took only a few seconds until his answer popped up.

JK: “It still doesn’t feel like enough.”

Wow, did he know how cool that sounded?

Y/N: “You don’t have to worry. Really. I’m glad I could help.”

This time he took a bit longer to reply.

JK: “Do you like flowers?”

Y/N: “Yes of course. Who doesn’t?”

JK: “Which ones are your favourites?”

That one was harder to answer. You liked quite a few and just named them all, allowing him to make the final choice.

JK: “Great. Can I send them to your workplace? I don’t think florists deliver late in the evening.”

It was sweet that he was so dead set on sending you flowers as a proper thank you and while part of you was delighted, the other part wondered how to explain the bouquet to your colleagues at the vet office. Still, you typed in your adress and sent it out.

From then on you thought the conversation would end, but apparently Jungkook was in a talkative mood. He revealed that he had a free evening and was just relaxing on the couch with a good meal, before asking you what you were up to. You told him about the drama and he suggested watching at the same time, sharing comments through text.

You had never done anything like it before, least of all with a stranger, but Jungkook seemed so nice and it didn’t feel so intimidating to write with an idol over messages. And after the first few shared comments, you actually started to really enjoy it. You two ended up talking throughout the entire episode, which was almost an hour long and then even half an hour on top until Jungkook announced that he was heading to bed. Noticing the time, you realized it was time to hit the pillows yourself.

But as you laid there in your bed, you kept reading through the chat history, as if making sure it was still real. Especially that “Goog Night” with the cute little emoji brought a smile to your face, before you finally turned off the night light.

____

For the next two weeks, he kept writing texts every other day. Sometimes it was just a random “How are you?” or a comment to your recently posted Kakao Story that he didn’t dare post publicly. But sometimes he would ask if you were watching that drama again to share comments in real time. It had become kind of a ritual when the third week started and a day without his messages felt weird. You still couldn’t tell anyone about it, but your friends and colleagues did start noticing your smiles and your eager grabs for the phone. But whenever they teased, you just said it was some guy online. Their would never believe the truth and you didn’t want to put Jungkook in trouble either. You had seen how crazy his fans could be, so the last thing he needed was your chats to become the topic of online gossip. Besides, it was kind of exhilarating to have a secret like that. At this point, you had already totally forgotten about the flowers.

During the fourth week of knowing Jungkook, you were staying late at the clinic, taking your regular night shift to take care of your little patients. You had just made your rounds, giving all the animals their medicine and checking on their bandages, before sitting down in the reception area, in case of emergencies coming in. But it was a super quiet evening, so you took out your phone. Almost on cue, a message popped up: “Finished work?”

Y/N: “Nope, having a night shift today.”

JK: “Oh, sounds tough.”

Y/N: “Not really. It’s quiet tonight.”

Nothing came after that and you put the phone away again, turning your head to the entry, the glassdoor giving you a perfect view of the rain shower outside. It really was coming down hard today. Bored, you took another round visiting your furry patients, giving them an extra round of cuddles. Suddenly the sound of the door tore through the hallway and you were quick to place the cat with the broken paw down to go and check on the new arrival.

You were utterly stunned to see Jungkook standing in the half opened door, dripping wet and with a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand.

“It’s pouring rain! Why are you here?!”, you exclaimed, approaching him with a shake of your head.

“Well, florists dont deliver at this hour.”, he said cheekily with a shrug. “So I came personally.”

He held out the dripping bouquet to you, which you took gratefully, enjoying the heavy fragrance of the flowers.

“You really shouldn’t have, but thank you. They are gorgeous.”, you said, sending him a smile, before inviting him to the staff room.

“Let me make you a tea and grab you a towel.”

“You got coffee instead?”, he asked, running a hand through his hair. It had changed color, you noticed, though you also instantly thought that you prefered it black.

A few minutes later you came back with a small towel and a steaming cup of coffee, taking a seat across from him at the small table. The entire room was tiny, but it was enough for the team.

“So this is where you work, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s a good place. It has nice people and I like how we truly take our time for each patient.”, you explained. You knew that not every clinic was like that, having done internships elsewhere during your studies.

“Aren’t you busy though?”, it was now your turn to ask him a question.

“I am most nights, but we do get our time off as well.”, Jungkook replied. “Our agency is a good place too.” You nodded, having read up a bit about Big Hit since your meeting with one of their idols. You also realized that you did know and enjoy quite a few of BTS’ songs, even though you had never been able to put a face to them. Now you enjoyed them even more.

“Do you want a tour?”, you asked, after a minute of silence fell between you, during which Jungkook tried to dry his hair. He agreed with a nod, before following you around. There wasn’t much to show, but he did spend some time in the patient rooms, giving the animals some pets and cuddles. He was good with them, you notcied and they seemed to like him in return.

“You have two cats at home, right?”, he asked, his hand still stroking a fat tabby, who was at the clinic because of stomach problems. The owner insisted something was wrong with him, even though you had determined that he just needed a change in food and a consistent diet.

“Yeah, Mr. Paws and Pogi.”, you replied. “I got them both from here, when the owners didn’t want them anymore.”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped to you, one of his eyebrows raised. “People do that?”

“Sometimes, unfortunately. Mr. Paws has a missing paw, ironically. We had to amputate it and the owner thought his cat would need special treatment because of it. And Pogi just needs regular medication and special food.” Small things really, but some owners just couldn’t handle it.

“I saw pictures of them and I never notcied the missing paw.”, Jungkook said.

“I don’t make a point of making it the focus on pictures.”

You ended the tour back in the staff room, where Jungkook took his coffee for a few sips, the drink instantly helping to warm him up.

“I have to miss our drama this friday.”, he suddenly announced. “So you have to give me detailed updates or at least a good summary.”

“You could just watch the rerun online.”, you suggested.

“It’s no fun alone. So unless you can wait a day for the new episode...”

“I make no promises, since the last episode ended on a cliffhanger.. but I’ll try to be patient.” He smiled at your humor, but you were serous. The show was more enjoyable with him.

“How did you get here?”, you eventually asked.

“I took a cab, but told them to let me out in front of a restaurant nearby. From there I walked.” In the pouring rain no less. Probably so the cab driver wouldn’t tell where he went. It was a clever ruse, but it was a shame that it was even necessary.

“Need a ride home?”, you asked. “I think I’m not a bad driver and I have some minor experience with idol passengers.”

His smile grew even wider at that. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But I do stil have to work for an hour before I can take my break.”, you said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Just a break? What time do you go home?”

“This is just like a hospital with normal night shifts. Usually they are covered by our senior staff, but because some are on holiday, the task falls to me. So today, I’m staying till 7am. But I get the next day off.”, you explained. Those almost 24 hour shifts were draining, but rare, so you didn’t mind them at all.

“Oh, I think I will need loads of coffee to make it until 7am...”, he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I might as well keep you company. That will be the perfect way to show my gratitude.”

“You really don’t have you...”; you started.

“I have a free day tomorrow as well, so I don’t mind.”, he insisted casually. “Besides, we get a chance to talk about that drama in person. It’s easier than typing.”

You still didn’t get why he wanted to stay. Somehow you could not imagine that it was because he simply started to enjoy your company through your online talks.

For almost the whole night, you just talked and drank copious amounts of coffee. He followed you on your patrol rounds, helping you with minor tasks whenever he could. And although it was strange, it was the best night shift ever. Most of the time, it didn’t feel like you were hanging out with an idol, but just with a really nice guy. A really handsome one at that.

“This is nice.”, Jungkook said, voicing what you had been thinking. “But I do need another coffee.”

“You could also just take a nap.”, you offered. “I’ll wake you before it’s time to go.” It was already 4 am at this point.

He seemed to think about the offer. “Ok, but we will grab some breakfast together to make up for lost time.”

Did he really feel like he owed you all this time? You weren’t quite sure what to answer, so you just nodded and went to grab him a blanket. There was a small sofa in the staff room specifically for the nightshift or patients who could not see blood.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“Goodnight, Y/N”

Hearing it live was so much better than reading his text you decided. And with a smile you made yourself another coffee to last the remaining hours.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungook x y/n #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #bts army #bts fanficion #bts romance #jungkook

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newamsterdame · 4 years

Text

a deadly education is tone-deaf at best and racist at worse; not the cure to jkr anyone was hoping for

Harry Potter’s massive cultural impact means that we haven’t seen the last of magic schools set in Britain, and we probably won’t for a long while. In some ways, the fantasy genre’s response to Rowling’s work is tiresome. In others, it’s exciting—because a generation of readers and writers have grown up to bring their own perspective to the limits of Rowling’s work and push it beyond the limits of its author. However, if you’re looking for a transgressive magic academy book that interrogates the limited morality, inclusivity, and perspective of Harry Potter, you should put Naomi Novik’s A Deadly Education back on the shelf and keep looking.

A Deadly Education tells the story of Galadriel “El” Higgins, a half-British half-Indian sorcerer attending a magic school where the consequences of any mistake might mean sudden death. El is a loner by nature and circumstance, but walking alone in the halls of Scholomance might mean being attacked and devoured by one of the school’s monsters. This puts El on a crash course with Orion Lake, the shining hero of her year who takes it upon himself to save the lives of his fellow students, including a less-than-grateful El.

The set up honestly sounds pretty good—a prickly protagonist, a heroic rival-slash-love interest, a deadly setting, and the potential for deep lore in magic and world-building. Unfortunately, not only does Novik fail to deliver on any of the premises’ strengths, she also chooses to weigh her narrative down with reductive, tone-deaf, and downright racist details.

El’s particular class of magic relies on language. El speaks English and Marathi, and picks up Sanskrit, Hindi, Latin and Old English in her study of language-based spells. It’s a little uncomfortable that Novik lumps dead and defunct languages like Latin and Old English together with actively spoken ones like Mandarin, Hindi, and Spanish, but that isn’t where Novik’s faux paus end. El approaches languages like computer programs to be downloaded onto her hard drive. Despite languages being the basis of her magic, she has no personal connections to the ones she’s speaking. She views other students and their languages the same way, identifying groups of students as “the Mandarin speakers”, “the Arabic speakers,” etc. Novik seems clueless about the relationships between the languages she’s building her world’s magic around, putting Sanskrit tombs in Baghdad and declaring that the Scholomance has a library aisle containing all of India’s languages. (About 800 individual languages are spoken in India, fyi.)

This clinical approach to diversity extends from language into character. El doesn’t try to make many friends, and honestly it’s not hard to see her classmates don’t try to befriend her, either. She doesn’t describe her classmates as people—she describes them as assets. And while that could be explained away by the premise that half her classmates won’t make it out of school alive, and El needs allies more than friends to survive, it doesn’t make it any better when El refers to others exclusively by the language knowledge they offer her. A character named Ibrahim has no personality or backstory, but he conveniently pops up when El needs someone who knows Arabic. A character named Kaito is thoughtlessly grouped in with the Mandarin speakers. An Argentine character exclaims in Spanish when she’s excited or relieved. There’s an uncomfortable distinction between the languages that get written out in the text—Spanish, French—and the ones that get narrated away—a character exclaims in Mandarin.

Novik goes out of her way to let us know that the population of Scholomance is diverse. There’s a group of South and West African students (only one of whom is named, and none of whom are important). There’s a “civilized” enclave of magicians in Toronto who value family and human life more than other groups. One character might graduate and go to Bangkok, but he’s looking to secure himself a place in Shanghai instead. Naomi Novik really knows the names of cities on at least four continents, and she’s not about to let you forget it!

But aside from names, languages, and cities, Novik has given no thought to what diversity means, or who these characters are if they come from diverse backgrounds. El calls on “Mandarin-speaker,” Yi Liu, exclusively by the name Liu. Is Liu meant to be this character’s first name? Or her surname? El doesn’t call anyone else by surname, but Liu is a Chinese surname, one of the most common in the world. El’s father is a Marathi-speaker from Mumbai, but El has no personal connection to Indian culture. Her father’s family prophesied that El would be a destroyer, and other than that rejection El has nothing to say about India or half of her culture. She refers to her Indian relatives in clinical English descriptors (my father’s mother, my great-grandmother, my uncles), even though she is purportedly fluent in Marathi and should know words like Panaji, Aaji and Kaka. El says that her Indian family is from an old Hindu enclave, and yet they have djinn as servants. (Djinn aren’t a typical part of Hindu cosmology, though they are a significant part of Islamic texts.)

Making El biracial seems like an afterthought, not something that affects her character in any way. It just creates some truly unfortunate optics, like when El goes on a three-paragraph description of how unnecessary she finds showers and how dirty she is at any given time. El’s father died making sure her pregnant mother (and therefore, El herself) would live, and yet El barely thinks about him. His name is mentioned once in the entire book. El complains that (presumably white) British people “assume she speaks Hindi” or call her the color of weak tea. But her Indian heritage is a veneer placed on top of a character who is otherwise just a default white protagonist.

All this adds up to a character (and a world), that reads as nothing so much as colonial. El feasts on the languages of others for her own edification, power, and survival, but she doesn’t see her classmates as people, and she doesn’t see language as a living thing related to real cultures. And I’m given to believe that Naomi Novik holds the same views, what with how she throws around the word “mana” as part of her world-building without considering its roots and real-life meaning to Polynesian and Melanesian peoples.

However, nothing makes the cultural tone-deafness of this book more evident than this passage:

Dreadlocks are unfortunately not a great idea thanks to lockleeches, which you can probably imagine, but in case you need help, the adult spindly thing comes quietly down at night and pokes an ovipositor into any big clumps of hair, lays an egg inside, and creeps away. A little while later the leech hatches inside its comfy nest, attaches itself to your scalp almost unnoticeably, and starts very gently sucking up your blood and mana while infiltrating further. If you don’t get it out within a week or two, it usually manages to work its way inside the skull, and you’ve got a window of a few days after that before you stop being able to move. On the bright side, something else usually finishes you off quickly at that point.

El’s pithy commentary about imminent death aside, I have a hard time reading anything but casual and thoughtless racism from this passage. The nefarious and deliberate myth of dreadlocks being unhygienic (and by extension, Black people being endemically dirty) is pervasive to this day. And Naomi Novik decides to include this passage in a book that has no major Black characters, in which dreadlocks never even come up in any meaningful way, just to remind us that in this magic world of hers, dreadlocks are dirty! Monster insects nest in them! The consequences are death! There was no good reason to include this passage, and all it does is draw on inaccurate and racist myths and perpetuate them into a world where anti-Black racism is never contended with. Although, I suppose, why would it? El never has need of any languages from the West or South Africans.

A Deadly Education bills itself as a subversive, even feminist, response to Harry Potter. But just like J. K. Rowling, Naomi Novik is a white author who uses other cultures thoughtlessly to build her own magic world. Other cultures and peoples exist, but only to serve the aims and needs of white (or mostly white-coded) characters. Novik has no empathy, no care and apparently no ability to Google anything about the cultures she wants to draw on. And the result isn’t just insulting—it’s boring. The world-building in this book is as dry and dusty as any history written by 19th century British colonizers.

Using some foreign names and making your protagonist biracial does not shield your work from racism. It does open you up to more pitfalls in depicting other peoples and cultures, if you don’t care to look out for them.

It would be nice to close by saying that despite its flaws, A Deadly Education is an enjoyable book. But it isn’t. It’s just a badly-researched, emotionless story told by rote.

#a deadly education #naomi novik #book reviews #quality text blog

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smutandfluffohmy · 3 years

Text

Dear Mr.Keating Chapter II

Read Chapter I here Description: This is a story about a closer look into the lives of the Dead Poets Society. Exploring first love, friendship and grief. This story explores elements of the book and film.

Todd Anderson had almost convinced himself that the events of yesterday were all a bad dream. He almost convinced himself of just that if he hadn’t woken up face to face with Neil Perry laying on the other bed across from him. Todd admired Neil, he wanted to be like him, speak without feeling his palms getting sweaty, to speak and have people listen to what he had to say. Todd stared at Neil, he tried to find his secret in the curves of his face. The light shone against Neil’s face, it made him feel calm and forget about what the day that waited for him. He wanted to get up to check the time but he was afraid any sound might wake him. Neils eyes started fluttering open, Todd felt a bit of panic then closed his eyes feeling that he might catch him staring.

“What time is it?” Neil asked with a yawn reaching over to the clock they sat against the windowsill. Technically a clock that belonged to Todd, more specifically a clock that belonged to Todd’s desk set. Todd pretended to wake up from a deep sleep rolling over to look over at Neil.

“Shit. We’re late for breakfast.” Neil said jumping out of bed faster than Todd had ever seen anyone do. The fact that someone had that much energy in the morning outstanded Todd. “How do you feel about today?” Neil asked as he was buttoning up his dress shirt just like he'd done many days before.

“I think I might faint.” Todd said tugging in his shirt

“You’ll be fine.” Neil smiled to himself as he looked for his tie, which he found neatly placed on top of his dresser. “I’ll stay close to catch you if you do.” Todd watched Neil closely while he tied his tie, looking at his hands carefully he tried to mimic the movement. But yet he still failed, one end of the tie far too long than the other.

“Here let me help you.” Neil said shooing his hands away and standing in front of him to do it. Todd felt so embarrassed, it was his first day and he was already dependent on Neil to survive Welton. “There you go,” Neil smiled at Todd reaching over for his bag “Come on we’re late!” Neil said, pushing him out of the door.

Neil talked about the classes they had for today, how to act in classes and if they ran fast enough they could still grab a bit of breakfast. Todd was a ship in a reckless sea and Neil was the anchor keeping him at bay.

They walked quickly down the turning halls, Todd thought all the halls looked the same but he followed Neil without a doubt. Their dress shoes clacked against the stone floor, till they reached an arched doorway.

Chemistry. Latin.English. Gym.

That was their schedule for today. The schedule didn’t sound any different from his old school but yet he was worried. Worried that all eyes would be on him for being the new kid.

Chemistry was uneventful. Latin was difficult, Todd had never taken Latin before in his life; instead he took french and was even then still had a hard time passing that. It wasn’t until they reached their English class that Todd felt at ease again after having to sit in a class where he did not know the language. At least in English class he was sure he would be able to understand.

Mr.Keating, their new English teacher, walked into the classroom after they were all sat down at their desk. He didn’t look like the other teachers, the other teachers wore ties and freshly pressed shirts underneath blazers. Mr.Keating stuck out, with no tie and no blazer.

“ ‘O Captain! My Captain!’” Mr. Keating said, his hands in his pockets, Neil wrote on the first line of his notebook ‘O’ Captain! My Captain!’ there was no knowing what they would get tested on later.

“Who knows where that’s from? Anybody? No?” Mr. Keating asked, looking around the classroom waiting for anyone to answer “It was written, my young scholars,” He said smiling at the boys “by a poet named Walt Whittman about Abraham Lincoln. In this class you may refer to me as either Mr.Keating or if you feel more daring ‘O Captain! My Captain” Keating pointed to the door and walked headed to the door and walked out. They all sat, unsure of what to do next, unsure of whether to follow or stay put. “Well come on!” Keating said popping his head inside. The boys all quickly followed, Todd making sure to stick close to Neil unsure if this was a usual occurrence at Welton. He knew the answer but needed an excuse to talk to Neil. Mr.Keating stopped in front of pictures of previous Welton graduates.

“They’re not that different than any of you,are they? Hope in their eyes, just like yours. They believe themselves destined for wonderful things, just like many of you.” Keatings said walking in front of the pictures. “If you listen very carefully you can hear their legacy. Come on boys listen.” Keating said, urging the boys to step closer.

“Carpe. Carpe Diem” Keatting said in a hoarse voice, Neil smiled at Todd by how odd this all was “Seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary.”

---

Neil, Todd, Charlie, Meeks, Pitts and Cameron all walked together on their way to gym class “You think he’ll test us on that stuff?” Cameron asked furrowing his brows at how odd the class was.

“Come on Cameron,” Charlie laughed “don’t you get anything?”.

Cameron didn’t get anything, not anything that wasn’t spelled out for him in a neat 12 point font, not anything that couldn’t be referenced in a text. They made their way towards the outside to attend their gym class, Todd worried about the way he stood, the way he kicked, the way he stretched, the way he breathed. The class felt infinite but before he knew it he was standing in the showers, trying to wash away the embarrassment of missing the soccer ball when he tried scoring a goal.

“Are you coming?” Neil asked drying off his hair with a towel.

“Huh?” Todd asked, admiring how Neil looked. Todd wished he looked like that, he liked looking at Neil and decided it would be easier to stare at him if they had the same face.

“Study group?” Neil said.

“Thanks, but… I’d better do history.” Todd said, it was a lie he wanted to lie in bed and forget about how he didn’t know Latin and how he barely made the grades to get in here in the first place and he already felt himself drowning in homework.

“Okay, you can always change your mind.” Neil said smiling at him, hoping to see Todd there.

Todd only nodded, not knowing the way to reach the library even if he changed his mind. They got changed, talking about how Knox was due at the Danburrys but Todd was only looking down at the tie in his hand and shoving it in the pocket of his blazer. While they spoke of the Danburrys status and prestige, Neil tugged the tie over his head and wordlessly handed it to Todd and stuck out his palm face up for Todds hidden tie. Which Todd wordlessly complied to. He shared a room with Neil, he had classes with Neil, he spent almost every moment of his day with Neil but somehow this tie nudged him over the edge.

Knox sighed “They're probably old and boring, like my parents.” he said, rolling his eyes at the thought of having to be stuck listening to them talk for hours.

Charlie draped an arm around Knox’s shoulder “Cheer up Knox, anything is better than the food they give us here.” He said laughing.

“What if they give me chowder and,” Knox sighed, preferring Weltons mystery meat over conversations about the old days in the law firm ��“and what do old people eat?” he asked

“Prunes.” Meeks said with a smile, imagining Knox having to force himself to eat buckets of chowder and prunes.

“What if they give me prunes!” Knox cried out.

Pitts sighed looking at his friends “They’re old not on the way to kick the bucket.” he said.

“Talking about old prunes,” Charlie said, “Cameron asked if he could join the study group.”

“It’s not our fault he’s your roommate.” Knox sighed, grateful at least he won’t have to hear Cameron talk about all the extra curriculars Nolan gave him. This comment made Todd who was following closely behind Neil perk up at the sound of. At least for once, for now he wasn’t the least desirable person in the group.

Charlie huffed “It’s not mine either,” he said “So is he in?”

-----

Knox went back to his room to change for dinner, Todd went back to his room, and the rest of the boys went on to the library to study.

Todd laid his papers and books on his bed, it would’ve all been easier if done at his desk but he couldn’t manage the thought of opening up his drawer for a pen or even just setting his things down on the desk set.

He didn;t get much done, getting frustrated with himself for not knowing Latin and for not remembering when the declaration was signed. Instead Todd looked at their room and then out to the courtyard. It was large but unbearably small at the same time.

-----

“How was dinner?” Pitts asked as soon as he saw Knox making his way towards them.

Neil looked up from his notes to see his friend standing there, his blazer resting on his shoulder and a look of despair on his face “Dear god Knox, what did they tie you up and feed you prunes?” Neil asked.

“Worse.” Knox sighed, slumping down on the open chair.

“Worse?” Charlie said, laughing at the thought of what the old Danburry’s did to Knox.

“Terrible! I met the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life! And she’s practically engaged to that meathead Chet Danburry.” Knox said.

“Too bad,” Pitts said.

“Too bad! It’s a tragedy!” Knox wailed “Why does she have to be in love with a jerk?” He sighed looking at his friends desperately for a reason as to why an idiot like Chet Danburry would have an angel like Chris.

Pitts placed a reassuring hand on Knox shoulder “All the good ones are,” He said “You know what forget her. Take out your trig book and figure out problem 12.” Pitts said pushing his trig book closer to Knox.

“I can’t forget her, Pitts, and I can’t think about trig” Knox said, pushing the trig book away from him. ‘They’ve never been in love that wouldn’t understand’ Knox thought to himself. Which was true, outside of a few mumbling words to girls over summer break they didn’t have any experience with girls.

Meeks walked around Pitts to look at a problem open in front of Knox “You need to use tangent here.” Meeks said pointing at the problem.

“Do you really think I should forget her?” Knox said, pain written on his face at the thought of forgetting Chris, his Chris, future hims Chris.

“You’ve only spoken once to the girl,” Cameron said, gathering up his things “you’ll forget her by morning.” he assured Knox.

“I’d never forget an angel like Chris.” Knox said sighing, painting her face to memory scared of when the next time he would see her might be. The rest of the boys couldn’t help but imagine a Marilyn Monroe or a Brigitte Bardot, and even a Raquel Welch. Neil wondered how pretty a girl must be to have to have him all twisted around. Neil gathered his books in his arms and made his way back to his room.

“We missed you at study group.”Neil said once he saw Todd looking out the window, a forgotten textbook sitting beside him on his bed. Todd didn’t answer and only nodded “Penny for your thoughts?” Neil said, sitting on his own bed, waiting to hear about Todds day. Despite them sharing the exact same day he couldn’t wait to hear how Todd felt about today, how he liked the classes, if he thought Keatings was a little odd.

“Not even worth that much.” Todd laughed flipping through his history textbook trying to find the answer for the next question.

“Bet they’re worth a lot more than you think.” Neil said smiling, Todd looked up to see his face. Todd was surprised when Neil’s face held no mockery and for the first time in his life Todd Anderson felt seen.

#dead poet society #dps fanfiction #dps fic #dead poets society fanfic #todd anderson #todd anderson fanfic #neil perry #Neil Perry Fanfic #anderperry #anderperry fanfic #steven meeks #charlie dalton #gerard pitts #knox overstreet #richard cameron #john keating

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hanawrites404 · 3 years

Text

One Dance

Game : The Arcana

Pairing : some slight hints of various pairings

Characters : Asra Alnazar, Nadia Satrinava, Julian Devorak, Portia Devorak, Muriel, Lucio Morgasson, Wynne Toprak, Lyra Slaquer, Sèbastien Slaquer, Raymond Slaquer (the Slaquers belong to @the-soupiest-artist) and Maura Hickey (who belongs to @puzzle-piece-angel)

Warnings : None

Timeline : Modern-Dance AU

This story is based of this song :

And this story is an introduction to the Vesuvia Dance Company and its members, so come along and let's see what does it have in store ✨✨

3rd person POV

"Tch. Boring......."

The wind whooshed against her as she tucks her flowing strands of hair behind her ear. She was leaning against the railings of her balcony, her hands resting on the cold metal as she examined her painted black nails.

To her, black was always the perfect colour. And she nearly never altered it to any other shade. It would be too tedious again.

The woman crossed her legs as she drank her Limoncello from the rim of her glass, the bubbles of the alcohol fizzed inside. Her throat bobbed with every sip and jingled the translucent crystal attached to her dark choker. The liquor quenched her dry throat, pricking it with its gas bubbles and bitter taste as she sighed the cold air.

The sparkling alcohol matched with her eyes as they stared upon the heads of the people walking past her apartment from the balcony. The cars driving away looked like playthings to her, and the trees swaying against the soft gust seemed like shrubs. Nothing was of interest to her outside as she continued to drink her beverage and blink away the yawn from her eyes.

She thought of going to bed again since she had nothing to do either inside or outside, but then a simple phone call from her friend changed all her plans.

"What is it Asra?" She answered, not a good afternoon, not even a hi. She wasn't in a mood for this.

"Heya Wynne! How are you doing first of all??" The person from the other side of the phone didn't seem unfazed by her disinterest because of his experienced friendship with the woman. She sighed and replied, admiring her nails again. "Nothing much, just passing my precious time as always" she chuckled at the last phrase. "What about you? What's the occasion for calling me?"

"Well, I missed you dearly-"

Wynne instinctively made an expression which spoke out 'Oh really?'

"And I have something to propose to you"

The girl blinked from curiosity and pulled away from the railings, walking inside her penthouse, still holding the glass of Limoncello and her phone near her ear as she told him to continue.

"So! You and I both know how much you love to dance right? You have also given performances at your workplace and you just love to lose yourself to the club music. You are a very awesome dancer, Wynne. And you don't mind showcasing your moves to everyone"

"Yeah, so what?" Wynne rubbed her temples, Asra was sure taking his sweet time and her forbearance.

"Well, I have sort of an offer for you. Why don't you meet me at the address I'm gonna text you and I'll spill everything when you arrive"

"Wait what?!" Wynne places her hand on her coffee table, her voice of disbelief and bafflement. "You got to be fucking kidding me Asra. Please tell me what is it and don't you dare cut off like this"

"Sorry Wynne, but I am busy. I promise I'll tell you everything there. Goodbye!"

"Asra! ASRA!!!" but she was too late.

"UGH, fucking bitch....." Wynne snarled as she clutched her phone tight in her palm. The device then vibrated in her hand and she rolled her eyes, opening her phone to find that Asra had sent her the destination in their chat. It was an address that was unfamiliar to Wynne, and thanks to the wonder which had already accumulated in her mind, she growled, and finally decided to reach the place.

Wynne swallowed the last sip of her drink and looked down at her clothes. Assuming that Asra was calling her to a public place, she decided to change from her casuals to a sleeved black crop top and matching palazzos and chunky heels. She combs her blue hair and applies her dark lipstick before grabbing the keys of her old red Cadillac, and she descended the stairs after locking her house.

"Asra, this better not be a prank or I will slap you to grave" she murmured grimly as she started the engine of her car and drove to the address. With a bit of traffic and breakers in between, it took her somewhat half an hour to reach an unknown college building. Now, why would Asra call her here? Was it perhaps for a college reunion? Then why was he talking about dancing? She had so many questions, and Asra owes all the answers to her after leaving her hanging on the phone like that.

"Winnie!! Over here!!" The woman turned her head to the call to find her best friend trotting while waving towards her. It didn't take her long to notice the tie-dyed rainbow shirt and glitter pants with sparkle sketchers, as Wynne just nodded and waited for Asra to finally stop by her car so she could give an earful to him for leaving her edged at the cliff. But calming her urge to denounce him, she patiently asked.

"Alright, I'm here. Now what? Why did you call me near a college?"

"A college?" Asra snorted and burst into a laugh. This made Wynne even more confused and annoyed as she snarled silently and eyed him, unamused. By phoning her at an unknown place when she was in a particularly bad mood only to laugh at her, she had set up her mind to drive away right in front of him and crush him with her car. But then, he luckily spoke on time before she could act her frivolous murder.

"Boo, this is not a college. It may look like one, but it's not. Trust me" Asra winked at her. Wynne, still being unamused, leaned her forehead against her fingers as she replied lethargically.

"Well, what is it then? Care to explain after calling me here without any proper explanation?" She already wanted to leave honestly. And can't she just sleep?

"Of course. If you would follow me, Milady" Asra being the gentleman offered his hand out to her though he was aware of Wynne's already increasing irritation. He stayed patient because he didn't want to reveal the surprise yet to her. The vexed girl grunted again and got off her car, placing her fair hand over his tanned one. Asra gently squeezed her hand in his with a warm smile on his face. That seemed to lower her irritation as she squeezed his hand back. Asra with a small blush spreading across his golden cheeks led her near to the campus, and Wynne followed him gradually.

Soon both of them were near the polished mahogany doors after passing the lobby inside. And before he could enter, Asra checked on his friend with another appreciative smile. Wynne raised her eyebrow. To her, Asra looked very gladder than usual. Though he was known to be a happy guy, he looked....... exceptionally optimistic today. Was today someone's birthday? Was today her birthday? She had no idea what the hell was going on and what the hell was wrong with Asra.

"What's the matter?" She asked. She sounded calm, but inside she was bubbling with novelty that what exactly he had in mind.

"This is not a college, Wynne" Asra repeated what he said before.

"Yeah, so what? Please don't pull another suspense now" the woman placed her hand on her lip. She loved the suspense, but too much of it makes her feel lazy.

Heh, as if she wasn't feeling lethargic already.

Asra chortled and patted her head, and he finally pushed open the huge doors to uncover something imperial, stupendous and incredible enough to leave Wynne's mouth gaping and her eyes caught mesmerized.

Inside the so-assumed as college, was a tremendous majestic dance theatre of what looked like belonging to a prosperous french period. It glittered with gold and red, as a satin rose sprinkled with dewdrops glimmering of sunshine. The walls were delicately painted with a royal maroon gloss and regal purple imprints of what left an impression of lavender flower. Even the hall gave off the scent of apricot and apple orchards. The hefty velvet curtains hemmed the rectangle stage elegantly, the spotlights modern, and the footing was simply immaculate.

"Asra......This is-"

"Alluring? Captivating? Hypnotising??? Is there any other English word I am missing??"

"Well, I would say that yeah. But...this place is like a fantasy!!" Wynne exclaimed as she idolised the beautifully festooned and pleasingly symmetrical ceiling. "I know right? Told you so. I'm glad you liked it. It's one of my favourite places to stay at" Asra joined her as she entered in, the click of her heels grating into the carpets of the theatre.

"Yeah......it's like this has come straight from the golden era of art. Like in one of my school history books! I...I never would have guessed that it would even more wonderful in real life. I thought it was more of a vision of romantic people which were just left as dreams" Wynne skimmed the sides as she examined the details closely, thinking internally about how much work must have gone into creating such a painting over such a vast canvas.

"Well, this theatre runs on donations and funds, but it's sure undeniable that this dance studio is glorious and alluring" Asra shrugged.

"Yes...it is........ Wait" Wynne stopped in mid-sentence and turned to him, her hand still on the wall. "Did you say, dance studio?". Before Asra could open his mouth to reply to her, another unfamiliar voice echoed from a corner. It sounded soothing, pleasant and graceful, but Wynne could not recognise who it was. However, the source was soon revealed as she walked towards both of them, and both of their eyes got fixated on her.

"Oh! A guest! Is she the person you were talking about, Asra?" The fair lady enquired, and Asra nodded in agreement. "Yup! She is the one. The 'blueberry syrup' " Asra winked at the unknown lady.

Wynne was now really questioning her existence....... blueberry syrup..........

Seriously?

"Oh! Now I see why you called her that" the soft ravenette chuckled, even her laugh chimed blissful which can send anyone to ease. Asra giggled and agreed to her, his dimple delicately forming on his cheek like a tiny crescent moon.

"Anyways, here she is. Wynne" Asra introduced the bluenette to the foreign lady, who smiled sweetly at her and Wynne waved for a greeting.

"And Wynne, this is Lyra" Asra finally disclosed the name of the gentle lady, who then stepped closer to Wynne and reached her hand out for her to shake, which the other lady gladly took after staring at her pale hand. And as she had guessed, her hand was soft like feathers.

"Lyra Slaquer, but you can call me Lyra. It's a delight to meet you, Wynne. I hope you enjoy your stay over here" she spoke with another cute smile. Wynne nodded and took her hand back, breaking a small grin herself. The name 'Slaquer' whistled a bit familiar to her, but she had never met Lyra before so it was kind of odd, but she pushed the thought and quickly replied to her.

"I too wish to enjoy my visit over here. This place is still kind of anonymous to me since Asra did technically blackmailed me to arrive here" the woman stared at the white curlyhead with narrowed eyes.

"What?!" Lyra gasped as her hand partially covered her mouth. "He did?! I'm so sorry for that, Wynne! He usually does not do that though" she grabbed her chin in her two fingers.

"Wait, I never blackmailed you" Asra's purple eyes widened in scepticism.

"You provoked me. You fed my curiosity and you left me fucking dumbfounded by your sudden hanger, you agitated me so much that the urge you aroused in me won. And whose fault do you think it is??" Wynne crossed her arms and stared at him, with her weight on one leg.

Asra's cheeks lit up with bright pink by the lady's question. It was not a surprise that Wynne caught his fib about being busy just to bring her here. He had known her ever since they were kids, and Winnie was the most attentive one out of the two. A smirk engraved on her dark lips as she tapped her foot on the floor, waiting for a comeback, though she was already aware that he doesn't have an answer. He was caught, he was very badly caught. And he sadly had nothing to objectify with.

Lyra meanwhile just looked from Asra to Wynne, then back to Asra. She was waiting for one of them to speak, but someone calling her name, presumably from backstage, snapped her out. "Coming!" The twirly ravenette replied, and she rushed to attend to her call. But soon after she stopped at her heels for a moment, and turned back to gently grab Wynne's hand and then finally walking with her.

"Come on Wynne! Let's make you meet everyone. I'm sure they will love you" Lyra notified her and she continued dragging her. The blue-eyed lady sounded so favourable and eager that Wynne couldn't muster the will to pull away and refuse her. She was better than deterring the warmth of a civil lady like her, and Wynne peeked back at Asra, who just waved at her, mugging 'have fun' to her.

'I will kill you.....' she gestured back at him with a scowl and flipped him off until Lyra and she completely disappeared behind the stage. And good thing she didn't notice Wynne being blatantly horrible and rude.

Not that Asra minded her cynicism anyway, he still loved her for how she was.

"Guys, listen up! We have a visitor here. She is Asra's dearest friend!" Lyra with a sunny smile as twinkling as the moon inaugurated her to everyone present backstage.

But little did Lyra know that Wynne already knew four motherfuckers present inside.

"What the heck? How are you all at one place?? And most importantly, what are you guys doing here???" Wynne pointed her finger from puzzlement at all of them and questioned the troop she knew very well through conventions and clashes she would never forget. Some of them which she found awful, and some of them surprisingly candy. She honestly never wanted to meet any of them at all, but profoundly in her heart, she was obliged that she was oriented with the six awesome and decent idiots.

"WYNNE?!!" A particular red-haired fellow, a ginger girl, a raven head man and a purplenette lady, together cried out the lady's name. The four were in a greater shock than she was in. Because neither Asra told them who the guest was, nor did they expect her to be the visitor out of any other persons they could have guessed. Now that's quite a shocker eh?

"Oh~ you know them???" Lyra bent towards her, her blue eyes shone with inquisition. "Yes...Yes, I do" Wynne sauntered towards them, this time, with a wooden floor, her heels gave off the clicking like of a ticking timepiece. Her hands were crossed, and she was tickled that how all the pals she was intimate to were existing in the area.

"Since when?" Lyra strolled with her. "Long story, Dear. It's all thanks to Asra, you can say. He is the cause why I know all of them. Like I met Nadia during one of his get-together parties, and then I met these two siblings- what was their name again? AH! Julian and Portia, at a grocery store when I and Asra wanted some stuff. And like that, I met his other best friend, the giant guy over there, Muriel"

Wynne brought up each one of them as she enunciated about them to Lyra. The ravenette listened to the bluenette with peak attention. She adored the manner and the refinement she held up while chatting to her. It was ethical, posh and highly lordly, just as a splendid black swan.

"And that's the story in a nutshell. Now tell me" Wynne kept her hands on her hips and glared at the four. "What's going on here?". "Wait, Asra didn't tell you what exactly is this place and what is our purpose here??" The physician asked her with mistrust.

"Well, no. He told me nothing. But he did say that this is a dance studio" Wynne tapped her chin, trying to recall what else he had asserted.

"Well yes, you are correct on that. This is a dance studio. Which includes the theatre along with the backstage, the rehearsal rooms, a canteen area with the lobby, a recreational cabin and the dorms. Our dancers live here and we provide them with a comfortable and hygienic place to stay along with necessary hospitality, and they all perform for the company" Nadia replied.

"Wait, the company? You guys are running a corporation together?" Wynne cocked her eyebrow again. This all was very new to her, and pretty intriguing too.

"You can say like that. This is Vesuvia Dance Company, and I'm proud to say that we all are like a close-knit family here. I run the company and also work as the organiser. Portia is the set painter. All the lavender imprints you saw on the screens were done by her" the umber woman referred to the chubby girl as she waved heartily at Wynne.

Judging by Portia's denim suspenders splattered with numerous sorts of pigments, she did look like a very hard worker. Just like how Wynne always knew her to be.

"And that gentleman over there, Muriel, he does the building work. So the stage and every scenery of the bureau is retained by him. During performances, he also makes sure the lights and every other piece of equipment are operating appropriately. Portia occasionally teams up with him for the arrangement of struts and special effects. Without him, the true magnificence of the dance would never have reached the audience" Nadi commended.

Muriel's cheeks blossomed pale red as his jade eyes shyly lowered down. Portia had the opposite reaction though. She just grinned and locked arms with the giant man catching him off guard and turning him more rattled than ever.

"I-It's not that much of a big deal" he mumbled abjectly. Wynne chuckled at the scene and muttered 'cute' before facing Nadia so she could introduce the medic next.

"And you must know Dr Devorak. Just as his profession speaks, he takes care of the condition of every member of the company and assures the safety of everyone from likely injuries or illnesses. He also schedules a diet plan if required, and he is also quite sincere in his work, and the members easily recover, all thanks to him"

"And....did any previous member die even though he was around?" Wynne heckled, and Julian fell right into her mockery as his face burnt deep red, the vivid colour spreading across his porcelain skin. He was positively ashamed, and Wynne snagged him so badly he was staggering. But luckily, Nadia seconded him up as she soughed.

"No Wynne. No one has died. The doctor is a qualified physician, and every one of us relies on his skills of treatment. He is also very humble, so there is nothing for us to be concerned about in terms of health" She retorted. "Alright. I believe you" Wynne shrugged with a sly smile, although the flush on Julian's cheeks didn't vanish. Wynne was like a harpy when it comes to disparaging someone, which sometimes makes Julian fear her. Other than that, Julian did like her, she can be cute sometimes and he has seen it. But just like every ambivert, all she requires is the right time to express it.

"And moving on, Asra is our principal dancer, so he is the one who comes with most of the choreography, but he also ensures to give opportunities to the other dancers to suggest any addition. With his and everyone's aptitude, the event comes out to be beautiful" Nadia affirmed with a low smile on her swift lips.

"I see....." Wynne held her chin in her fingers and nodded.

"And the thespians along with Asra are, Lyra, Maura, and-"

"Hello guys! What's up?"

"Woah Woah Woah!! Take it easy! We didn't go anywhere" Julian stumbled back onto a table as he attempted to brace away from the not-so sudden jumpscare of the stranger who appeared to have popped out in between out of nowhere. Well, a stranger to Wynne, to be precise.

"Haha, sorry Ilya. I was just excited to meet the new guest, and I didn't wanna miss them!" The outsider gleefully met the sights of the new lady with his azure ones, a purple glisten romped within his iris, just like how the gold flapped inside the matron's lustrous eyes. Other than his apertures, she noticed how he looked a bit similar to Lyra, contemplating the same type of hair and complexion of the skin. She then looked down at his clothes. The uproar he was wearing captured her eye, reasonably. Wynne was stringent, and a fashionista filled with critique, but what the man was having over him wasn't so terrible to her at all. She could see the striped black-white sweater, baby pink pants,

And were those turquoise crocs he was wearing???????

"Interesting...." Was all that Wynne could say.

"This is Raymond. He is our pianist, and he with his band performs along with the dancers. And he also conducts the music" Nadia enlisted. "Oh, so he is the soul of the performance huh. Pretty....... eccentric" Wynne eyed Raymond who glanced innocently back at her. She rasped and dabbed Raymond's shoulder as she reacted. "But sure. He is cute".

"Oh! If I'm cute then you are the loveliest girl in the whole world, and the ebony fabric on your fair body is like shadows surrounding the glowing moon" Raymond's eyes sparkled with esteem and cherish towards her, like a child recognizing their favourite superhero. That wasn't a good sign for Wynne at all. Especially deeming that it has only been minutes since he and she got introduced to each other. But, inferring that he was the type of guy to give random sweet compliments to anyone, she coolly answered.

"W-Why thank you Dear. You are.....pretty yourself. I like your hair".

"Thank you, Ms Wynne. You are too nice" he blushed with a wide beam. "Yeaaaaahhhhh" Wynne internally winced but tried not to show it to not come off as rude and anguish the cute boy.

"Alright! I think that's everyone in the area. There are three more people who are left to be introduced, but other than that, I hope everything is to your liking, Wynne. Asra brought you here so you could think about joining the company" Nadia rolled a strand of her long hair around her finger.

"Wait, join you all???" Wynne asked.

"Oh my gosh, you are gonna join us??? PLEASE DO!! I would love you for that!" Raymond practically jumped on his feet with enthusiasm.

"W-Wait, but why??? Why do I have to??" Wynne struggled to justify.

"Well, why not. We all have seen you perform before, Wynne. And you would make an exceptional dancer! Also, it's very fun hanging around with everyone and dancing too, don't you think?" Portia added.

"Yeah Wynne, Pasha is right. We know you don't like being around people so much, but we would give you space when you need it. We may stick close, but we will make sure to not bother you much" Ilya gently smiled at her. She did frighten him sometimes, but Julian would be happy to have a bit of her insolence and sarcasm hovering around. Everyone would love to have that.

"I agree with Julian. You are a wonderful lady, Wynne. It would be our absolute pleasure to have a talented entertainer as you dance with us. I promise I won't talk much if that annoys you. But I want to get to know you better, Wynne. I bet you would be very fun!" Lyra playfully whacked her shoulder, only to receive a deathly grimace from the bluenette's wolf-like eyes.

"O...Oh...." Lyra cautiously procured her hand and backed a bit away from her. She wasn't dreading of her if anything. She just got more.....intimidated. She had never met a woman with such grimness flooding out of her, yet be so nimble as a twilight waft along with the gloom she hauls. Lyra felt like a little butterfly just witnessing a vicious spider open her gapes and watch it flash with yearning and malevolence, but close enough, she could see the dignity and that dwelled deep in those gazes.

And those golden orbs had apprehended her just like a tempting spider's quagmire.

Wynne was never known to miss her target anyway.

"S-Sorry....." Lyra's diamond orifices veered under and a weak rosiness escorting her cheeks.

Wynne just shut her eyes, sighed softly, and immediately gawked at Muriel who was typically tight-lipped the whole time. But she decided to inquire him too because his opinion also mattered after all. "What do you think, Big Guy? Would you be happy to have me over?" She straightforwardly asked. The huge man was taken aback for a bit, he had believed that Wynne won't bring any mind to him, and obviously, she proved him wrong. And now he had to respond to her because everyone else had their eyes on him too.

"I......." He started.

"Mhm?" Wynne waited.

"....................."

"I won't mind" that's all he said.

Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of solace and rejoiced while Muriel just reddened and pouted. He wondered what made the people so relieved when all he did was say 'yes' for the new girl to stay. But what it truly meant was that they were ahead in favour by one more vote.

Wynne snorted. "Yeah yeah, celebrate all you want, but still. I haven't agreed to this yet. So technically there is still be left to decide. Now don't get too much excited already" she stated.

"You are certainly right on that. But we are willing to wait for your final decision, Wynne. Whether positive or not" Nadia told her, and the others agreed to her, nodding and muttering to each other. "Good. I don't like rushing things. I'm glad that you understand" Wynne's lips curved into a slight smile, and everyone else in the room returned a grin. "Of course. We want you to be comfortable after all. You are our friend" Julian added. "And we promise to support ya!" Portia said. "You can speak to us if you ever have any trouble, Wynne" Lyra peered at her. "And we promise to not irritate you at all!" Raymond assured her with a bright grin on his lips.

"We......We would take care of you too....." Muriel softly smiled.

Wynne softly chuckled, shaking her head delightfully and placing her hands on Raymond and Lyra's shoulders. She gleamed at both of them, and she thanked all of them for the patience and hospitality they all gave to a newbie like her. She truly felt honoured and warmly greeted by all of them, and she felt much pleasanter than she was feeling appearing for the first time. Nadia was pleased to see how everyone welcomed Wynne. She was looking forward to the guest making herself comfortable among the partners and come to be a valued part of the small artsy gang and relish the beauty of dance and music together with everyone.

And am I missing someone important to introduce?

"So! What did I miss, lovely ladies and gentlemen?" Some other unidentified person barged in like a typical theatrical garish zealot. Just as assumed by his way of the fashionably late entry, his clothes were incredibly contemporary and vogue and his shirt were half-buttoned to expose his semi-hairy chest. The unknown man rested his elbow at the frame as his piercing emerald eyes stridden around on everyone's faces until it spotted its victim. A certain gal in black.

"Ah! Gotcha" the stranger grinned and grazed his teeth over his lower lip. He pushed himself back on his feet and walked towards his prey. His hand brushed through his curly dark locks, the hooves of his shoes made a satisfying click with every step he got closer to Wynne. He wasn't focused on anyone else other than her, his eyes glimmered under the daylight, like lush green leaves after monsoon showers.

Wynne perked up her eyebrow up. Who is this guy now, she pondered. She glanced at his shirt for a moment and noticed patterns of peacock feathers with splats of prominent blue and white matching the print. Very remarkable, she thought. But also somehow very familiar too. The design on his cloth was something she had seen somewhere before, but she couldn't recollect when exactly.

Nevertheless, the unfamiliar man wearing the familiar clothing gently took hold of her hand and locked his emeralds with her gold.

"And you might be......" She started.

"Sèbastien Slaquer at your service, mademoiselle" he fervently kissed her knuckles, nurturing the sweetness of her skin on his lips.

"Ah...Slaquer......french....Wait a minute" Wynne interrupted.

"Yeah, what's the matter? Remembered something important?" He tilted his head and looked at her, his eyes taking in the charm of her marvellous face and dusk merging with her rosy skin.

"Slaquer.....no wonder why it was sounding so weird to me.......I think I have heard this name before.....in a brand name" Wynne held her chin.

"Oh, you have? I don't know. My brand sure is well-known--"

"Wait, did you say, your brand???" Wynne gripped him. "Yes of course" he shrugged. "Hmmm.....that explains your shirt..... the peacock designs..... peacock designs???"

Wynne suddenly gasped. "You are french, aren't you?!"

"Oh, are you giving me a racist remark now?" Sèbastien knocked and chuckled at his joke. "But yes, you are right. I'm french. And so is my little brother and my cousin behind you" he gestured to both Raymond and Lyra who were currently casually conversing with each other. "Ohh those are your siblings? Alright," Wynne nodded. She wasn't surprised because the three of them did kind of resemble each other. The opaque curly hair, ivory skin, thrilling eyes.

And speaking of Raymond and Lyra, Wynne noticed how personal they were. Both were standing near one another, and Raymond never halted eye contact with Lyra, and Lyra also had her entire attention on him. They didn't seem to mind anything happening around them. They just talked, but every word they said to each other pertained only to them. They were just cousins, but Wynne was mildly amazed how they behaved like mutual siblings who loved each other to the brim.

It thawed her heart, but also made it ache as soon as she realised she doesn't have such a person whom she can call a sibling. Her mother was never there to give her a sibling.

Wynne was always alone at such times.

"Anyways, what do you call a peacock in French by the way? Maybe that would remind me" Wynne turned to the tall man. It disturbed her how he towered over her. She was fundamentally disturbed by how ALL of them towered over her.

Heh, looks like someone has taken Portia's place of being the smallest.

"Oh, Paon" he answered within a second.

"AHH! I got it! That's your fashion brand, ain't it so?" She banged her fist on her palm as soon as she ultimately understood the name she was trying to remember all the time. "Well yes, you are correct again. Wait, you mean you know my work??" He gazed at her. "Mhm. I have seen it. Peacock layouts are your trademark, along with the colours, royal blue and brine green. Your type is modern, but also have a slight tinge of French flavour, dating back to the eighteenth or nineteenth-century or so. I have even seen the blogs that talk about you, very impressive I must say" she complimented him.

"O-Oh...Why thank you for your tributes, mademoiselle. You are pretty vigilant and almost figured out my whole style. Not many people can, you know" he laughed. "Of course, no problem Mr Slaquer" Wynne giggled. She found Sèbastien relatively interesting already, even after knowing him only for instants. Not only she liked his judgment of fashion, but also how he and she shared the same passion for design.

"Oh please, call me Sèbastien. It's my upmost pleasure to meet you, Miss......."

"Wynne. Wynne Toprak" she said.

"Toprak?? You mean, Priddell Toprak??" Sèbastien asked her. "Yup. I don't use my middle name too often, actually" she mentioned. "Ohhh I am have heard about you a lot, Ms Toprak. I have witnessed your works too, but I just wasn't lucky enough to see your beautiful face until now. Lucifer's Wings, that's yours right?" He questioned.

Wynne's cheeks turned a slight pink. She always thought that she can improve her style more and more, so she never found her methods perfect. And someone just breaking it to her that they admired her works and call her beautiful on top of that turns her shy and flustered.

"I-I...Thank you. And yes, that's my brand. I started it when I was like, 15 years old or so" she replied. "Woah, now that's a young talent I see. Very terrific, Ms Toprak. And I love how you make black match every other colour of your clothing. Your mode is very diverse and comfortable for anyone. Now that's how I want fashion to be. It should be dispersible to everyone, without any discrimination. And also with being unique, but also not too bizarre, if you know what I mean" Sèbastien's eyes shot to Raymond for a second.

Wynne bobbed her head. "I agree with you. Clothes which are different but also not too much of it. We don't want to walk around looking like piñatas now, do we?" She shrugged. Sèbastien broke into a fit of laughs and he shook his head. His laugh sounded like harmony to her, she chuckling with him too.

"Also, I am guessing you work with Nadia in designing the dresses for the dancers?" she continued. "Yup. Right. I have a contract with her for that. And Raymond has one too for his band to perform in the theatre" Sèbastien rubbed his neck. "Ahh...I see......Well, my friend had invited me here to take a look, and decide whether I should join the company with all of you or not" she noted.

"Oh! So you are going to design with me too?? Like a collaboration??" He sounded pretty energetic about it. "Well, maybe. But I also am a dancer. So let's see what happens" Wynne shrugged again.

"Woah...what a gifted lady. I'll be looking forward to work with you, mademoiselle" he softly kissed her hand again. "Oh it's nothing much. Trust me, Dear. But sure, I'm anticipating too" she sadly smiled at him. She still wasn't sure if she should join or not. But seeing so many likeable people who welcomed her so sweetly, made it hard for her to refuse. But also, what worse can happen if she joins? She loved dancing, and maybe along with fashion, she can make her career in another field too.

But still, she needed a bit more time. Though her mind was already telling her to agree to the contract and sign in. But she still needed to wait. Not just yet, please.

"Ohh!! What a lovely lady in the house!" Wynne heard another adorable voice from the entrance. She glanced at the new blonde woman, her long hair as golden as daffodils and her eyes as green as polished malachite. She also noticed the dress she was wearing. A long red skirt and a white buttoned top. It was simple but pretty, along the black ghillies with distinguishing neat white socks.

"Oh hello there. Nice to meet you" Wynne turned her attention to the blonde dame, whose cheeks lightened to blush as she bashfully smiled at Wynne.

"Nice to meet you too! I'm Maura. You must be Wynne, right? Asra told me about you" she replied. "Yeah, that's me. In flesh" she snorted.

"Ah, Wynne. Maura is the one who planted all the flowers and plants in the garden. And she always knows what type of flower would suit anyone. Also, not only she is the gardener, but she is also a prudent performer of Irish stepdance. It looks very difficult to me, to be honest. But Maura always does it so effortlessly" Sèbastien added on. Maura blushed harder and timidly thanked the man for the compliment, who just patted her head with a playful wink in return.

"Oh! Now that's very sweet of you. I absolutely loved the sunflowers in the garden by the way. They are my favourite. Every other flower in the garden were beautiful too" Wynne smiled at her. "Of course! I'm glad you liked them. I love sunflowers too. They sure a happy radiant flowers, don't you think?" She glinted at Wynne. "Definitely. I love them because they remind me of my mother, that's why" Wynne sadly smiled, the fond portraits of her precious mother as her hair and eyes lustrous as the cloudless floral elegance of nature flooding into her psyche. She dearly missed her, too bad she was no more.

"Oh! That's wonderful! I'll make sure to make a bouquet of sunflowers for you once they fully blossom. You can even gift them to your mom. And tell her I said hi" Maura twinkled. Wynne was seized aback by her abrupt tenderness. People were being too much nice to her today that it seemed so alien to her. But appreciating her generosity, Wynne warmly smiled.

"Thank you, Maura. She would like it" she still couldn't believe that such kind people still exist.

"My pleasure, Wynne. This is the least I can do" she smiled back.

"Also, Irish dance, now that's very interesting. You gotta show me some moves and teach me one day" the bluenette placed her hand on her hip. "Ohh for sure! I would love to. What dance do you do? Or do you specialise in some other thing than dancing" Maura leaned her head.

"Ah! I'm usually into hip hop and ballet. I learnt a bit about belly dancing too, it's also called Raqs Sharqi in Arabic. And other than dancing, I also run my fashion brand, and that's my real profession. It's called 'Lucifer's Wings'. I still remember how I took days to come for a decent name" she facepalmed and chucked at her forenamed naivety.

"That's a very nice name! You gotta show me your works someday then. I bet they will be very very beautiful and elegant, just like you!". "O-Oh....thank you for the.....compliment, Dear. And of course, I'll show you my latest designs, if that will satisfy you" Wynne brushed back her bangs. "I am sincerely honoured, Wynne" Maura grinned at her, her hands behind her back and her cheeks pink.

"No pressure. Your welcome" she raised her shoulders. Alright, she had to admit. She had started to like Maura too. Who wouldn't? And it was funny how she presently was liking the Slaquers and Maura more than the six she already was aware of. Maybe it's the benefit of the joy of meeting new people. Maybe........

"Also, I have a small question, would you mind me asking?" Wynne blinked. "Not at all, sweetie. Ask away" the blonde replied.

"Asra said this place runs through funds" Wynne blinked again.

"But who exactly is funding you all?"

Maura wasn't the one to answer her question. And neither was Sèbastien. Or Raymond. Or Lyra. Or any of the five.

It was the one out of the six who was known to be snooty, and robust, and blond.

And a passionate pup person too.

In came the notorious devil with two of his faithful albino pair of hounds growling at everyone in the room. His garnet coat with gold trimmings and the spotless Tom Ford Customs, obviously costing so much it would make our pockets spontaneously explode, were dry cleaned and smoothed very strictly, and his hair was huddled back with shower gel, replacing the pleasant smell of vanilla in the air with a tincture of mint.

"How are you all losers? You missed me?" The man removed his Gucci glasses and straightened his silky black gloves on his hands as he looked down at everyone.

"Tch, not him again" Wynne heard Sèbastien scoff and cross his arms. He looked irritated, and so did Maura, but she didn't have any frown on her face like him. She just looked..... unsettled. Meanwhile, others in the room were feeling as uncomfortable as both of them too. Muriel was looking away, Portia began to mind her business, Julian hid behind his papers, Lyra and Raymond tried to ignore the man and Nadia just sighed tiredly and rubbed her temples to give some comfort from the headache she just got. Possibly because of the new blond who entered.

"Hello Lucio" Nadia was the one who bothered to greet him, and she didn't look like she had a choice.

"Hello, Noddy! So how are my wife and her useless crew doing?" He cocked.

"Ex-wife, for your information. And they all are doing better than you, anyway" she scowled.

"Ah, still defending them huh? You do know this won't stop me" he smirked and kept his hand on his hip. Nadia closed her eyes, breathing calmly. "I don't care if you stop or not, but you are wrong. You always will be. My crew will always be committed and hard-working. And they all mean a lot to me no matter what bad you say about them"

Nadia's words effectively dissolved the tension in the room. Wynne just kept up at her place, listening to everything. She wasn't stunned to find him here. If her five friends would be here, then so would he.

The surprising fact was that she preferred the blondie over everyone else due to their previous relations and memories. It may sound unbelievable, but Wynne knew Lucio more than anyone, and it probably was the same with Lucio too, that he knew Wynne more than he knew anyone else. She was just a kid she met the guy when he was younger than today. And it has been two decades since, yet they kept in touch and their love never deteriorated.

Maybe.....maybe Wynne did have someone to call a sibling.

"So good to see you here, Lulu" she sounded pleasantly happy. That adds to another reason for joining the company.

"Wait- WYNNE?!!" The man was startled, finding his close friend at a place he least expected to. His lips widened to a grin and he forgot about everything, only to dash to the lady and tackle her in the biggest hug he can ever lend. Wynne laughed, and simply held his back, embracing his nostalgic warmth and scent close to herself, remembering every time they spent together merrily.

Sèbastien was dumbfounded, his mouth agape. Maura too was a bit astonished, that a sophisticated lady like her would be friends with such a flamboyant and hyperactive person. Well, she didn't judge it. Opposites do attract, you know. Maybe that was the case here. Maybe......

"What...What are you doing here??? I didn't know you were coming for a visit. Noddy never tells me anything" Lucio implored, fretting at the last sentence. "Well, it was more like a surprise visit. Nadia didn't know, so don't blame her" she replied. "Arrgh, fine. If you are saying it, then I'll gladly listen" he winked at her."Good" she cracked a tiny smile, snickering in the middle, and he joined her with the laughs.

"Now now, do you work here too??" She asked as she stopped.

"Work?! No!! I don't work with these idiots. THEY, work for me" his chest surged like a roasted turkey's bust.

"Oh yeah???" She raised her eyebrow, her eyes darting to Sèbastien. He shook his head, denying Lucio's statement. He then crossed his arms, and behind Lucio's back started mocking him by making his hand talk like Lucio and mouthed the gibberish with his eyes rolled up.

Wynne almost got caught by wheezing and cackling like a witch. Luckily her convenient hand covered it up.

"--And that's how I brought them all here. I am their saviour, Wynne. I raised them from the streets and gave them homes and look how they repay me. Not even a decent formal greeting!!" He bragged. Wynne already knew that the 'saving' part was not true no matter how fondly she thought of him, but she still played along to not dishearten her best friend.

"I understand, Monty. They are pretty tired too, you know. You can excuse them for that" she augmented, perfectly roleplaying.

"Excuuuuuse me?!! I work for hours at the meeting of the cooperations and look at me!! Not even a sweat on my brow. Oh, come on!! Are you all that lazy??? You are such losers for god's sake UGHH" Lucio hysterically placed his hand on his hip and cited them all. None of them were diverted, just as predicted. But Lucio was just pouting as always, and Wynne was feeling hotter and also sheepish. Were the two things even proportional?? She imagined so.

"U-Uhhh" she slowly walked to him and carefully placed her hand on his shoulder. She clasped her fingers around his joint and sighed peacefully.

"Hey...Lulu. I know you are worried about them and thinking that they are not....... trying harder, but they all deserve a break, you know. They all are like you after all. You all are humans, you need rest. You need fresh air"

She stopped and breathed a bit.

"And you know what you and your mates want??" She asked him, with a small beam of mischief on her lips.

"Huh??? What do I need??" He raised her eyebrow at her. She then grinned and booped his nose.

"You need ice cream, Silly! Ice cream! Who doesn't want a sweet cold treat on such a hot day hmm?? Come on all!! Let's have ice cream outside! I'm sure Asra can cover us up on that, free of charge" the bluenette invited everyone over, melting the potent tension just like ice cream under the giant ball of burning gas, leaving sweetness and chill dripping all over.

Everyone agreed to Wynne and relaxed from Lucio's outburst. They were finally keen to take a break they deserve and make their way through the other side at the exit. Lucio and his pets already ran to where they would most probably find the ice cream guy of the house, while everyone else silently thanked the blue lady for preventing Lucio to turn things worse. Some shook her hand, some gave her a quick hug and a bright smile, while some gave her thankful glances. She welcomed all of them with a simple nod, happy to help of course.

"You did great, Wynne. Thanks for shutting that asshole up" Sèbastien patted her head before moving out, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling away a loud ballad. Maura followed Sèbastien, but she stopped to gently shake Wynne's hand and give her one of her confectionary smiles, also thanking her for saving her from the virago.

"It was nice to meet you again, see you soon" and she went away, her skirt fluttering with the inside wind, as the bluenette saw her walking.

"Hey...that was considerate of you, stopping Lucio from flaring on all of us. I never liked him screaming at anyone, but thanks to you, now I can finally breathe fresh air" Lyra humoured and Wynne chuckled with her. "No problem, Lyra. Lucio and I have been together since my childhood. He had been like this since his college days. So it's not shocking that he is still like this. I honestly love it" she laughed.

"That's great, even for him. I'm happy that you have someone close to you" she gladly smiled. "Yeah, I am happy too. You also have awesome siblings, take care of them just like they take care of you, okay?" Wynne leaned on her weight. "Ah! Of course! Ray Ray is my closest confidant. We are just cousins, but I treat him as my brother. Sebby is also very sweet to me, but he is one thirsty man for gossip and he often turns......scandalous" Lyra whispered the last thing to her.

"But I'm really glad they are here for me, and I'll be there for them too! I'll protect them at all costs!!" Lyra puffed her cheeks with resolution and adherence. Her adorable reaction made the goth lady guffaw from amuse. She held her stomach, one of her hands fanning her face and gashes of laughter accumulated at the nook of her eyes.

Watching her laugh was like watching a thunderous hurricane reflecting a widespread rainbow, or like a broken glass casting an bewitching silhouette.

"You are such a sweetheart. Keep it up like that" Wynne patted her shoulder out of appreciation. Lyra shied a little, she found the other lady's laugh so mellifluous as a psalm's ensemble. She creased a ringlet behind her ear and ogled fondly at the shorter woman.

"I am trying my best, Wynne" she timidly replied to her. "I know, Dear. I know" she closed her eyes and exhaled. She unfolded them again, only to glimpse back into her sapphire watches. Lyra was so captivated by her that her heart skipped a beat when she observed the golden blaze and crystal frost inside her. It was enthralling.

"Also, may I ask for a favour?" Wynne gently held Lyra's chin and poked it up her lips. She didn't even realise that her mouth was open in awe that she blinked rapidly, and stammered a bit, her face flickering to an apple glow. Soon she regained her composure and answered back to her, not making her wait for long.

"Yeah?? What's the matter?"

Wynne stayed silent for a bit.

"......................."

".............................."

".................."

"......................................................"

"Can you show me the contract papers? I gotta sign up"

The clock strikes at 11, and so does the cap of Wynne's pen. Finally, she wrote her name on the paper and learned to become one of their family. She was having fun and was impatient for her first performance.

Well.....maybe Asra did the right thing annoying her huh. Bless him for that, and everyone else of the Vesuvian Dance Company.

Now let the extravaganza begin!

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codename-adler · 3 years

Text

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt.IV

In times of college finals, aftg is my coping mechanism of predilection. hope it helps some :)

>> Table of Contents,TW and other parts here!

i’ll let you guess what Kevin and Juliet chose for their project

oh, yes

the letters of Hamilton, Eliza and John + Hamilton: The Musical

i will fight you on this

at first, when Juliet suggests it, Kevin stares at her so hard bc really?? a musical??

but then she lends him the 50$ leatherbound official book of the musical (you know the navy blue and beige one? you know what i’m talking about, right?) and reads it all in one evening and wow

lin-manuel miranda? genius. ron chernow? Genius. alexander hamilton? Dumb Genius.

oh yeah and Juliet? Absolutely mind-blowing genius.

as Andrew & Neil grow closer and the match agaisnt the Ravens rounds the corner, Kevin finds himself looking more and more forward to the time spent at the library with Juliet

she is just so focused on their project and so oblivious as who he really is and doesn’t really care if sometimes he is more anxious, if freaks over everything to be perfect, if he babbles on&on&on&on about any bit of history he discovered

she’s just there, smirking, stiffling her laughs and asking for more

they’ve exhanged phone numbers and she installed snapchat on his, and although he never sends her anything, she always has a short video and a funny caption that pop up from time to time; they’re that little reminder that the world goes on outside of exy and that he exists outside of exy

she introduces him to funny videos and he didn’t know absolute dumb shit could make him snort??

his favorite is the peanut butter baby

at first the Foxes give him this judgemental look when he ugly-snorts in the locker room or at Eden’s, but eventually they just get that glint in their eyes as if they were in on the jokes

sometimes, Juliet’s so focused on writing down bullet points in her notebook, peeling the skin off her lips, so unaware of Kevin’s personal hell of a life, that he just wants to spill out everything

although he’s not sure if it’s because he wants her to know him and stay, or because he wants her to reject him and therefore spare himself the trouble of getting attached...

she takes the decision for him

on a Thursday afternoon, on their planned study session, she doesn’t show up

she doesn’t answer her phone either

he even tries out a completely blacked out snap with “r u alive?” in caption

no answer

he gives her space, sending her occasional cat videos he thoroughly researches

if she watches them, she doesn’t say anything

on Monday afternoon, she doesn’t come to class

that’s when the panic Kevin’s been reigning in just... bursts

what if it’s Riko?

what if it’s the Master?

what if it’s Ichirou?

what if, somehow, it’s the Butcher’s people?

that afternoon’s practice is hell for the Foxes, Kevin is ruthless and an asshole and very agressive

Dan waits for him outside the boys’ locker room as all the other Foxes leave (not even Andrew and Neil want to wait for him)

“Spit out your goddamn problem before I tell Coach to bench you next game”

oh, how Kevin wants to cuss her out

and then he looks at her face, ready to vomit words, when he sees her worrying her lips

just like Juliet

it shouldn’t be enough to make him tear up, but it does

he still manages to keep as much of the truth to himself as he possibly can

“My EAL partner isn’t responding to my messages or my calls and she didn’t even come to class today and it stresses me the fuck out and what if it’s like with Neil, Dan?” he says in one breath, trying to tear out the net of his racket

Dan recomposes her face and gets that very serious look, the one she usually gets when someone touches her family

“It’s not, Kevin. That’s over. We got Neil back, we got you back, you got Jean back. The team didn’t even know who that person was. The most info we’ve gathered is what you just told me now. Yeah there are some bets but it’s mostly for funsies, nothing even remotely serious. You wanna look for her?” she soothes him.

“I don’t even know...”

“She lives on campus?” she asks.

“I don’t- I don’t know, Dan. I spent months with her and I can’t even vaguely say where she lives! How fucked up is that?” Kevin yells.

“It’s not even remotely fucked up, Kevin. You should know that. Does she have instagram? twitter? Or like, facebook?” she questions some more.

“God, I don’t know. She only sends me stupid fucking videos and I never even respond like the goddamn asshole I am...”

“Shut up. We’re all assholes at the end of the road, ‘kay? You ain’t better or worse than others. Now she sends them to you in text or somewhere else?”

“Sometimes texts... Sometimes the yellow app, the chat one. Why.”

“Oh great, that’s great. We can locate her, with snapchat, if she forgot to turn off the sharing. And if you’re comfortable with that, too. I know you’re not a creep like that. You’re creepy sometimes, don’t get me wrong. But, not a creep.”

“Gee, thanks, Dan.”

“Hey, shush. You down or what?” she says, arching an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he answers, unable to make the fear go away without knowing for sure.

And so it turns out Juliet’s location is, in fact, knowable. Dan grabs one of Kevin’s shoulders as he leaves the court, squeezing her affection into her grip; he nods emotionally in her direction, as far as emotions can translate unto his face.

he doesn’t even know what he’ll do once he finds her, his brain is solely focused on the animated map that brings him closer and closer to Juliet

the more he progresses, the more he realizes he is far from Fox Tower, on a campus area he has never even seen

he stops before a decrepit building, old and moldy-looking

Jackie Kennedy Hall

student dorms? this shabby? she can’t possibly live-

except that she can, because there isn’t another building close and the map has brought him here, and he doesn’t really know her...

so Kevin straightens his shoulders, inhales deeply, and goes inside

he could go on and on and on about everything that is just wrong with the place, from the smell to the decoration, but he makes a beeline for the front desk (he’s lucky there’s even one)

he asks for a way to contact someone, flashes his press smile at the women behind the desk, gives up his ID in exchange for the room number

Juliet Grier, 418

stairs, stairs, stairs, stairs

heavy door, right, 412, 414, 416...

418

what, now?

Kevin hesitantly knocks once, twice

no answer

he knocks again and decides to speak up, in case she didn’t hear

“Juliet? It’s Kevin. Day. From EAL? Can I speak with you?”

still nothing

maybe she isn’t home... no, the map says she’s here. maybe she’s sleeping...

he decides to try one last time

“We really should finish that project, you know? I think we could both use the free time...” he says without his heart into it.

without surprise, no response still

he decides to take a loose paper from his sachel and writes down some words

Greetings Hi,

My friend Dan helped me look for you, but you don’t have to worry about your privacy; it’s because of the yellow app. You should turn that off if you don’t want other people to be nosy.

You weren’t in class today. I’ll share my notes if you want them. But, you should come to class, it’s better. For learning.

I’ll wait a few in case you’re asleep.

Text me or call me or whatever when you’re ready.

- Kevin D. (your partner from EAL)

quick, efficient, to the point

Kevin slips the paper under the door, and waits

he refreshes the map too many times, to see if her location changed or if somehow there was a glitch

it stays put

he ends up sitting on the hallway floor, his back sliding down the wall

he catches up on a book for another class, checks exy stats and watches many, many videos of Jeremy Knox on the court and in interview

some students pass him with a nasty look, eyeing the lack of earphones on his phone

some other students walk by him and will themselves to keep going, because holy shit it’s Kevin Day in Jackie Hall

it’s at least an hour and a half before the doorknob slowly and quietly starts to click

Kevin was absorbed deep into whatever move Knox was making before scoring

the 418 door opens

Kevin gets up in one move, all things Jeremy Knox and exy forgotten

she’s loosely holding Kevin’s paper in one hand, the other clutching a large scarf that covers up the majority of her body

from what he can see, though, she’s wearing sweats from head to toe; her hair’s tied on the top of her head, but most of the curls escaped and it looks unwashed and her curls, dry

her skin’s turned pale, dark circles under her eyes, a haggard look in them, her cheeks stained with dry tears

Juliet looks terrible

“Hi...” Kevin attempts

she finally looks up from the paper and gives him a bored look that could rival Andrew’s

with a rough voice strained from cries and many days without speaking, she asks, “My EAL partner?”

“Well, yes. In case.”

“In case of what.”

“I-”

“I know who you are, Kevin.”

and isn’t that both his most ardent wish and his worse fear?

with that, she turns around and goes back to her dark room, leaving the door open behind her

is that... an invitation?

Kevin’s never been to another person’s place, apart from the Columbia house, Abby’s and Wymack’s

he reminds himself why he came in the first place and decides it would be a waste to leave now, right?

the small studio is a mess, much like its occupant

there are clothes everywhere, on the floor, on a chair, on the bed, on the desk

all the curtains are drawn, no light is on, the only source coming from Juliet’s laptop somewhere amongst her bedsheets

it’s like she made herself a nest and hasn’t moved from there for a long time

maybe even since last Monday, the last time he saw her

Kevin doesn’t understand the scene he has before his eyes

he’s never seen such apathy in someone that is not Andrew

and at this point, apathy is pretty much Andrew’s default state of being

not Juliet’s

Juliet is a soft glow, toothy grins, wild curls, countless jumpers, dumb jokes and references, color-coded notes, an organized mind, unwavering focus and determination, flowing words and warm, kind eyes...

so what is this?

then Kevin realizes he spoke aloud

and Juliet can only chuckle sadly, almost mockingly

“This? This is why I don’t have friends. This is why I don’t mix with people. This is why I’ll never amount to anything in life. This is my dirty laundry, both metaphorically and literally. This is it. That’s... That’s it. This is what I get,” she answers flatly

Kevin’s mind is spinning

he doesn’t understand

he needs to understand, though

“Explain it to me,” he says

Juliet looks at him like a brick just hit him on the head and made him speak Swedish

“Why.”

“Because, surely there’s a way to work with it.”

she laughs

it doesn’t reach her eyes, nor her lips or her cheeks

it’s just a desperate sound

it makes him think of Andrew again

and that gives him an idea, a gut feeling, if you will

“Can I try something out?” he asks

“Kevin... I can’t- I’m tired... It’s not a good idea... I’m tired, Kevin,” Juliet responds, pain noticeable in her voice and her movements slow

“I know, I- I know. Someone I know... He plays this game. It’s really not a game, it’s more like a communication thing. He calls it “A Truth for a Truth”. In exchange for something I tell you, you tell me something. And in exchange for something you tell me, I’ll tell you something else. It’s made me... work through some things... before,” Kevin explains calmly

Juliet keeps on observing him from her bed, silent

“Look, can I just stay here to do homework? I have nowhere to go right now,” Kevin asks, almost blurting out “Please” before Andrew’s ghost caught it in his throat

she lies back down, burries herself in her covers, a silent “yes”

Kevin ends up falling asleep sitting on the floor, books open, head resting at the end of Juliet’s bed

he wakes up around 2 AM

he’s got multiple texts from Aaron and Nicky, one from Andrew, and one from Dan

“told everybody you spent the night at Coach’s. take care.”

he silently vows to thank her later

now he either really goes to Wymack’s to finish his night there, or... he stays exactly where he is

Juliet is still sleeping soundly

in a haze, he palms for a pillow or cushion, pulls his hoodie on and lies back down on the carpeted floor

he’s only awaken in the late morning when he brutally gets stepped on

“What the shit?? Kevin! How...???” Juliet yells

“Um, ow? No, no, don’t apologize so quickly. You just, you know, crushed my lungs and a couple of ribs, no worries, Jules!” Kevin groans

“Ju- you know what? I’m not sorry. Right now I gotta pee, so you better have a damn good explanation when I get back,” she replies and leaves her room to go to the bathroom at the end of the hall

instead of dread, Kevin feels calm about the upcoming conversation

he doesn’t prepare lies, doesn’t run away, doesn’t resort to assholery

he just stays put where he is on the floor, snuggles deeper into his hoodie, and waits for relief, for the truth

he waits for Juliet

40 notes · View notes

harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

Text

Pretty Boy

“This is so boring.” Heather popped her gum, smacking slightly, and blew a curl out of her eye. She and Billy were in her dorm, studying together. Her roommate Robin was lounging in her loft, ignoring them, but it was a comfortable thing. Billy sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Switch it up then. Stop with Stats and work on Bio or something,” he suggested. He turned the page in his Art History book, trying to focus.

“No, I mean,” she scoffed, “I mean, like, studying is boring. We should take a break.”

“I’m not taking shots Heather--”

“I’m just saying--”

“I actually need to finish this--”

“Well, I need to do something else--”

“Oh my god,” Robin groaned, leaning over the side of the bed. “Whatever you guys do, would you be quiet about it?” Billy stuck his tongue out and she rolled her eyes before turning back towards the ceiling. Heather eyed her, tongue swiping over her bottom lip unconsciously, and Billy smiled slightly. She was so obvious.

“Hey,” he suggested slyly, “Didn’t you say you had a new lipstick you wanted to show me? Said it screamed Fuck Me?” He ignored the slightly choked sound that came from Robin’s loft and instead focused on Heather’s rapidly flushing face. She gave him a look that said I know what you’re doing, but stood and went to her dresser anyway.

“It’s this gorgeous red, and I also have a gloss I thought would look good with it, but I wanted your opinion.” She pulled out a tube and Billy tossed his textbook to the side, leaning back slightly. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw that Robin had turned so she was facing the room and not the wall. He smirked to himself. Lesbians were so oblivious to each other, it was almost infuriating. Almost. “Alright,” Heather said, popping her lips. She turned and gave him a bright smile. “What do you think?”

“Oh yeah, girl,” he said with a grin, “That’s a fuck me red, if I’ve ever seen one.” It was a bright red, like Christmas holly or a cartoon candy apple. The gloss looked like it was close to dripping down her chin, shimmery and sheen. Billy licked his lips and Heather’s grin turned sly.

“Oh I have the best idea.” She grabbed her makeup bag and plopped back beside him on the futon, turning to face him. Billy raised a brow.

“What?”

“We’re giving you a makeover,” she said with delight. Billy rolled his eyes.

“Heather--”

“Oh come on! Please? It’s 2019,” she begged, pouting. “Guys wear makeup now and you have the best eyes for makeup I swear. I am so jealous of your lashes you don’t even know, Billy.” He laughed at that, and then shook his head.

“Alright, fine. You’re right, I do have amazing eyes.” He heard shuffling and a thump, then Robin was behind Heather, a wide grin on her face.

“This is gonna be good.”

“Pull your hair back,” Heather said, tossing him a baby blue velvet scrunchie. He pulled his hair into a pony on the crown of his head, watching her pick through her various makeup bags. “Alright, close your eyes, Billy,” Heather cooed, picking out an eyeliner. He did, reluctantly, but his heart thudded in excitement. He’d never really tried out makeup before. Sure, he’d done eyeliner and some mascara, because he did have the best eyes for makeup, but anything more? His father had made sure he knew there’d be hell to pay if he ever tried. And once he got to college, well, he’d been too busy with schoolwork and keeping his scholarship that he didn’t really think about what it meant to be out from under his father’s roof. To be in control of himself. It wasn’t like he really wanted to do drag or anything either, but he’d always loved how he looked. Spent too much time staring at himself in the mirror, probably. And he knew, he fucking knew, that he’d look good in makeup.

“If you make me look like shit, Heather, I’m taking all of your scrunchies,” he warned, a smirk pulling at his lips. He heard her gasp, offended.

“You’ve seen my makeup--”

“Yeah, exactly,” he teased.

“I’m gonna give you orange eyeshadow if you don’t shut the fuck up,” she hissed.

“I’d still look good.”

“I dunno, Hargrove,” Robin drawled. “You’re not looking at this orange.”

“Dunno when I asked for your opinion, Buckley.” She snorted at that, and he imagined she probably rolled her eyes too. Billy liked Robin. She was quick witted, funny, and had a really special knack for making ‘dingus’ sound like a compliment. Also, she was friends with one Steve Harrington.

Steve was something else. He and Robin had been friends in high school, making the move out to Berkeley together. He’d helped Robin move in, like Billy had helped Heather, and the minute he had seen him, Billy had been obsessed. Steve was cute, fucking adorable, and then he’d run his hand through his hair and Billy had nearly short circuted imagining doing that himself. Then Steve had opened his mouth and proved himself to be so far out of Billy’s league. He was kind, goofy, but also stubborn and loyal, like a puppy. He was smart, if not a little naive, and he was funny. Pretty much the perfect fucking package.

But Billy knew that he’d ruin him. That he’d taint the goodness that was inherently in Steve, so he kept his crush to himself. And it proved fucking helpful just last week, in late October.

“Halloween is fine enough, I just had a bad breakup with my ex at a party in high school last year and it’s just a little tainted still.” Steve frowned as he sucked on the joint. Billy watched his lips intently, snapping his eyes up as Steve handed it to him.

“Oh?” Billy busied himself with taking a hit so he wouldn’t ask. He wasn’t sure Steve wanted to talk about it.

“Yeah,” he sighed, still looking up at the ceiling. “She got really drunk and kinda, let me have it? Then slept with someone else?” Billy exhaled sharply, eyes widening slightly. He ignored the clenching his chest at the revelation of it being a girlfriend.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Steve croaked. “We made up, but like, it’s not a great memory anyway.”

“Well,” Billy offered, licking his lips, “We could hang out if you want. On halloween. Nothing big. Just get stoned and watch some horror movies or some shit.” His stomach was full of butterflies and he tried to squish them, trying to keep his hopes fucking down. Steve was most likely straight, and Billy really should have seen this coming. Still, it was kinda like a date and he’d never really been on a date before. Not with a guy, at least. Steve smiled a little.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Billy’s heart fluttered in his chest before sinking when Steve said, “Could I bring Robin?”

“Yeah, of course.” And that had been that. Billy had taken that as a rejection and tried his darndest to not think about Steve and his long fingers, longer legs, and his mesmerizing brown eyes. He didn’t do a very good job of it.

“No, no, no.” He zoned back in to Robin and Heather bickering.

“But the blue would look so good with his eyes!” Robin said.

“Well, duh,” Heather replied. “But gold fits Billy so much better! See, if I do golds and this coral here, his eyes will just pop!”

“Okay, okay,” Robin relented. “But if his eyes are gonna be all done up, you should really add some highlighter.”

“Oh yeah,” Heather nodded, “You’re so right.”

“Do I get an opinion?” Billy said, eyes still closed.

“No,” the girls replied in unison, and he smiled.

Steve was having the worst fucking day.

He’d spilled his coffee all over his notes that morning, had been late to his shift at the school store after a shitty phone call with his father, and was now being sexiled from his own dorm. He thunked his head against the hallway wall, wondering if the world could just swallow him up.

Plus, he’d been anxious about not hearing as much from Billy the past couple of weeks.

When he had invited Robin to the Halloween hang out, she had laughed at him for a full minute. He was confused until she brought up that Billy had been asking him on a date. Which didn’t make sense because Billy was obviously straight. Not that Steve was one to go on stereotypes, but Billy was a natural flirt and he’d just figured he was comfortable enough in himself to flirt with guys too. That he didn’t mean it. Because, well, look at him.

Billy was the kind of hot that slapped you in the face. When Steve had first seen him, muscles bulging as he carried a box on his own, his mouth had gone dry. He hadn’t looked away from his ass until Robin coughed pointedly. Then they had talked, and Billy had been smart and charming, and Steve was a sucker for both of those things. Hell, he’d gotten fucking hard listening to Billy theorize about his English homework a month ago.

And then Robin had rolled her eyes and said that Billy was gay as fuck, that he and Heather were best friends, not dating like Steve had assumed. So Steve held his head in his hands and groaned. Robin had laughed at him again, but told him that she would come if he really wanted her to.

“I mean, I want it to be him being interested so bad,” Steve groaned. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“Trust me,” she had dead panned, “I’m not.”

But Steve had made mistakes before. He’d been so positive about Christian, and that had ended so poorly. He really didn’t want to take any other chances. So she came and brought Heather, who Billy had invited. And it had been a fun evening and Steve had thought that maybe, just maybe, Billy was into him.

But then they hadn’t talked for a while, what with midterms coming up, only meeting when the whole group got together for study sessions with alcohol. It wasn’t super unusual, but Billy and Steve had been texting regularly, pretty much everyday, and suddenly it took him hours to respond, sometimes even a day or two. It wasn’t like it was pressing stuff, but Steve’s earlier hope and excitement at Billy’s possible interest was quickly dissolving.

And what sucked is he couldn’t even complain to Robin about it. Because she would fucking laugh at him and remind him it was his own damn fault. It also didn’t help that after he’d gotten a C and B on his last tests (which were some of his best and most steady grades in years, thank you very much), his father had used the phone call to resume his quest to get Steve to major in business instead of social care. Had talked over Steve’s excitement with disappointment in his voice that Steve still hadn’t chosen ’the right career’.

Steve sighed, thunking his head against the wall again, feeling sorry for himself. He needed a pick me up. He needed a drink. Robin was good for both. He took a deep breath and made his way to her dorm, wondering if Heather was there too. She was always good for a drink and maybe seeing Robin fail to talk to her crush could make him feel minimally better.

Also if she had just so happened to message him earlier that Billy was there to study, that was no one’s business. Steve would have gone there anyway.

He knocked when he arrived, waiting to come in since he hadn’t texted ahead of time. Robin opened the door, a weird and intense smile spreading on her face when she saw him.

“Oh no way,” she breathed. “This is perfect.”

“What?” Steve furrowed his brow. She pulled him into the room, smile still wide.

“Steve’s here!” She announced, way too perky. Steve started to get nervous.

“Oh great! He can tell me what he thinks!” Heather cheered. There was a strangled sound from next to her and once Steve had his bearings, he focused on Heather and-- promptly choked on his own spit. Billy was staring at him, hair up, face fucking glowing. Heather had her makeup spread out on the bed between them, her red lips pulled into a cheery smile. But Steve couldn’t focus because Billy’s lips were also so red and shiny and his eyes were breathtaking--

“So?” Heather asked, a knowing grin on her face. Steve opened and closed his mouth, trying to get back the ability to talk.

“I think he likes it,” Robin chuckled. Steve gave a nod, swallowing thickly. Billy was blushing, Steve could tell by the tips of his ears, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Uh, y-yeah, it’s great. It’s, uh, really great!” His voice shook a little because Billy’s fucking lips were just like, there.

“Thanks!” Heather said, ignoring the way Billy and Steve were staring at each other. “I could do your makeup sometime!”

“Sure,” Steve replied absently, not listening to a word she was saying. Heather rolled her eyes with a smile and crossed her arms.

“Oh my god, I actually can’t take this anymore, just fucking get it over with!” She said, exasperated but having fun. Both boys snapped out of their trance, looking at her with furrowed brows. Heather and Robin locked eyes before rolling them. “You think he looks fucking hot, right?” She directed this to Steve, who spluttered and turned bright red.

“O-Oh, I, uh, yeah? Uh, I mean, uh--”

“This is so embarrassing for you,” Robin said, almost in awe.

“Shut up,” Steve hissed.

“Uhm.” Billy’s voice cut through the tension, and everyone’s attention turned to him. He looked to Steve, still blushing. “You think I look hot?” Steve opened his mouth and Billy, obviously flustered, cut him off with, “I mean, of course you do, I’m a fucking snack.” He sniffed, trying to act unaffected. Heather looked to Robin, wondering if she should put them out of their misery.

“He also wants to suck your dick,” Robin added, making Steve gasp and turn on her, shocked.

“Robin! What the fuck!”

“You do?” Billy’s eyes were wide, but excited. Steve looked at him, shocked.

“What-- I-- Well, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head and smiled a little awkwardly. Billy smiled.

“Holloway, I need to talk to Steve in your room for a--”

“Oh no, you are not making out in here--”

“Oh come on,” Robin said, grabbing her arm. “Just use the fucking futon, you animals.” And she closed the door behind her. When Heather and Robin returned, having grabbed some pizza and beers for the evening, Steve and Billy were on the futon; Steve’s hair was wild and he had lipstick and gloss smudged around his lips, while Billy’s, lipstick ruined, were stretched into a smug smile.

“I think it’s time you two talked.”

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #robin buckley #heather halloway #bucklway #boys in makeup #fluff #short and sweet

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

summertime sadness .2.

holiday

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (intercourse, oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You enjoy your last days of escape.

Note: Alrighty, we’re building up to the real crux of this installment and I am pumped to begin the next chapters because shit gon get wildin’. I hope you all enjoyed the first part and here’s a fluffy, smutty second chapter. Bon appetit. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like.

💋💋💋

The jet lag lulled you into a heavy sleep. Even so, you woke up early as Steve snored loudly beside you. You suspected, had it not been for your exhaustion, your night would have been restless because as soon as you opened your eyes, you were thinking of the day before.

Your phone vibrated as if sensing your thoughts and you grabbed it as you climbed off the bed. It was a text from Kylie. ‘Missing out girl’. You read and crept into the living room. ‘Don’t rub it in’, you replied after several tries. Your stomach was fluttering.

You were miles away and yet you felt just sending that message would give you away. As if she would sense your secret hidden between the letters. Your phone blipped as she returned a tongue out emoji and you countered with a thumbs up and set the phone aside with a sigh.

“Hungry?” Steve’s voice frightened you and you nearly jumped as you turned to him. “We’ll order some room service.”

He rubbed his eye with his knuckles as he took the menu from the coffee table and sat. “Eggs? Crepes?”

You sat beside him and looked over his shoulder. “Fruit and yogurt’s fine.”

“Boring,” He sounded like Kylie. “This is a vacation.”

“I’m not very hungry,” You argued as you crossed your arms and slouched against the couch. “But thanks.”

“Okay,” He shrugged as he reached for the phone on the table that stood by the arm of the couch. He dialed the extension and the other end picked up almost immediately as you closed your eyes. “Hi, I’ll get the Executive Breakfast and some yogurt and fruit to Suite 3a. Yes. And two mimosas…” You opened one eye and he peeked over at you with a grin. “Coffee too. Thanks.”

He hung up and sat back. He rubbed his shoulder against yours and leaned in. “

What’s going on, miss grumpy pants?”

“Please,” You pushed yourself to your feet. “Don’t talk to me like a child.”

“I’m not,” He argued. “Really? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” You lied.

“We’re here to have fun so please… just tell me.”

“I just feel…” You looked around. “I dunno. I guess I’m just not used to all this.”

“So enjoy it,” He stood with a groan. “A nice day by the pool, hmm?”

You tried not to smile as he neared and pulled you to him. “I… my apartment could fit in here and more and my mom’s house is barely--”

“Do you ever think of yourself?” He interrupted.

“I think you know I do,” You let him wrap his arms around you. “I’ve grown too comfortable with being selfish.”

“Having fun isn’t selfish,” He insisted. “Don’t think of it like that.”

“Don’t you ever think… about what other people think?” You ran your hands along his shoulders. “When they see us together? I mean, they might not know us but--”

“They probably think I’m a lucky man,” He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I don’t care what they think. Do you?”

“I don’t know, but I notice the looks.” You shrugged.

“Jealousy. Bitterness.” He said. “Let me tell you, if I could be your age again, I wouldn’t bother with caring about other people. It’s not worth it. Trust me.”

You smiled reluctantly. “I suppose…”

“Hey,” He caught your chin before you could look away. “You’re not stuck with me. If you’re not comfortable, if this doesn’t feel right, we can end it when you want. No hard feelings.”

You inhaled and gazed up at him. “No, I don’t want to end it, I just… am still trying to understand it. To understand myself.”

“You’re young, you’ve got time to figure yourself out,” He stroked your cheek with his thumb. “And this is just a step on that road.”

💋

The day was serene. After breakfast, you changed into your new swimsuit and settled into the pool with a book. Steve didn’t bother you much. You caught him watching you but he didn’t do much. When you climbed out and claimed one of the loungers, he followed you.

You sat back and closed your book. You set it aside and he took it. He read the synopsis on the back cover and gave a ‘hmm’. A dry history of the American Railroad; two bucks out of the discount bin but surprisingly intriguing. He put it back where you left it and stretched across the other lounger.

“You excited?” He asked.

“About?” You adjusted your sunglasses as you bent your legs.

“Your new job.” He was unabashed as his eyes explored your figure.

“Oh, yeah, nervous.” You answered as you fidgeted. “I’m trying not to think too much about it.”

“Why?” He reached over and touched your hand. “It’ll be a foot in the door and you’re a great writer.”

“Am I? How would you know?”

“Bucky sent me a copy of your article. The one that got you the placement.” He explained and you looked at him, stunned.

“You read my article?” You gaped.

“Enjoyed it,” He smiled. “You’re gonna go far, you know that? You’ll be visiting Hawaii every year. Living the life.”

You laughed. “Okay, sure.” You pulled your hand away and wiped the sweat from your forehead.

“I mean it,” He said. “Any plans after your degree?”

“I don’t know. Maybe another or… We’ll see how this goes first.”

“Gee, I’m sorry,” He shook his head. “This was meant to be a nice little getaway and I just ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine,” You assured him. “Really. I’m just… anxious.”

“I can help your nerves,” He purred and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Mmhmm,” You hung your arms over those of the chair and closed your eyes. “Nothing a little sun and dissociation won’t help.”

You ignored his shadow on the other side of your eyelids and the subtle shift of his lounger as he moved. You squeaked as you felt his fingers brush from ankle to knee. He pushed your legs apart as you opened your eyes. You tried to resist him but he was strong, insistent.

“Steve,” You whispered.

“Shh, it’s okay,” He bent over the end of the lounger and pulled you closer. You slid across it and tried to catch yourself on your arms. “No one can see us.”

“I don’t--” You gulped as he pulled aside the crotch of your bathing suit. “Steve, please, let’s go--”

His tongue was cool and your legs locked up around his head as he buried it between them. You hissed as he suckled at your clit and unable to push him away, you stretched your fingers across his head and urged him on. He was only too eager to bend to your will.

“St-e-ve,” You shuddered. “Pl-ease.”

He smiled against you as he drank you up. You whined and squeezed his head between your thighs as you contorted in pleasure. How simply he could wrap you around his finger. You arched into him as he grabbed your legs and pushed them over his shoulders. The lounger felt just as weak as you were.

You panted as he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm was a song; a series of moans smothered beneath your palm. He hummed and lapped up your ecstasy. He was reluctant to pull away. Your legs trembled and slip from his shoulders as he sat up. He licked his glistening lips and fixed your swimsuit.

“Well,” He grabbed the lounger and pushed himself to his feet. “I think I need to cool down.” His shorts were tented with his arousal as he turned his back to you and stretched his arm above his head. He neared the pool and lowered himself into the water with a sigh. “How about you, sweetie?”

“Uh… yeah,” You breathed. “Sure.”

You were slow to rise and slightly dizzy as you got to your feet. You swept off your sunglasses and left them on the lounger. Your cum cooled against your swimsuit. You sat on the edge and carefully slid into the water.

Steve was quick to draw you to him and pin you against the wall. His broad chest pressed against yours as he kissed you. The water swayed gently around you. He held you to him and turned so that he was pressed to the tiled wall.

“You know,” He cupped your cheek with a damp hand. “I wanted to fuck you in the pool last summer but… well… if I’m being honest, I would’ve fucked you in every single room.”

You giggled and kissed him again. “You’re so dirty.” You teased as you pulled away.

“Oh, I never said I wasn’t,” He nuzzled your cheek as his hand glided along the curve of your side. “You should come down again. I can take you for a ride on the motorcycle… finally finished that old beast.”

“I don’t think--”

“Kylie will be visiting for Thanksgiving this year,” He offered. “You can tag along with her if you’re free.”

“I don’t know, my mom--”

“Of course,” He dragged his nose along your chin and pecked along your throat. “We’ll figure something out.”

His hand slipped down and he lifted your leg. He hooked it around his hip and pushed down his shorts beneath the water. You looked down and your eyes rounded. He took your hand and wrapped it around his dick. You grasped him and raised your head slowly. You began to stroke him and he shivered.

“You can take me for a ride now,” You grinned.

“Oh yeah,” He grabbed your ass and lifted you easily.

You clung to him with one arm as you angled him beneath the water. You shoved your swimsuit aside with two fingers and quickly pushed him inside. You bit your lip as you slid down his length and he let out a long breath. You rocked against him and moaned in his ear.

“Mmm,” He purred. “Sweetie, you’re so sexy.”

“Yeah?” You preened as you rode him slowly. “You like that?”

“I love it,” He assured you as he squeezed your ass. “I just… couldn’t help myself. Watching you all day…” His hot breath crept down your neck as he spoke. “Reading over there with no clue how hard you were making me… the way your lips move just slightly…”

You moaned again and he bent to nibble along your throat. He led you up and down as his impatience grew. His teeth pinched your skin, sure to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. The water splashed around you as you crushed him against the wall of the pool. You tossed your head back and sped up.

You were frantic for release. His name rolled off your tongue as you chased your climax. Your core pulsed hotly and all at once the coil snapped. You came with shrill mewl but didn’t slow. You grabbed Steve’s head and smushed your lips against his. You parted as you bounced against him and your lips quivered.

“I want you to cum in me,” The words sent a thrill through you. “Please.”

“You sure?” He rasped and you nodded with a hum.

He smirked and turned you suddenly. He pushed you against the tile and pounded into you harder than before. You cried out with each thrust and he growled as he gripped the edge of the pool. He grunted as his hips jerked wildly. A warm gush filled you, searing as the cool water flowed around your bodies.

He shivered as he stilled and sank into you entirely. He stepped out of his shorts that had slumped to his ankles. He moved away from the wall, still inside you and walked with you in his arms to the steps of the pool. He climbed them slowly and the water dripped from your intertwined bodies. He carried you through the glass doors.

“What are you doing?” You asked as the haze cleared.

“I’m gonna do exactly what I always wanted,” He snarled and fell onto the couch with you under him. “I’m going to fuck you on every piece of furniture in this place.” He rocked his hips and spasmed as your walls clung to his oversensitive cock. “And then again. And again.” He spoke with each tilt of his hips. “And again.”

💋

Three days and then you were headed back to the city. The weekend had gone much like the beginning. By the end, you’d forgotten the worries that awaited you back home; the underlying duplicity of your tryst. The plane ride was long enough for it all to come hurtling back but you staved it off for your last twelve hours of bliss. With your hand in Steve’s, you let him hold the load for you.

And when you landed in New York and you’d retrieved his rover from the lot, you were ready to sleep off your doubts. He stopped outside your apartment. You could tell he was sad to see it. You lingered in the car as he leaned over to kiss you.

“So…” He said as he pulled back, his arm across your seat. “I’ll see you...later.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how much time I’ll have off,” You lamented. “But I’ll call you.”

“Facetime?” He asked coyly.

“Hmm,” You chewed your lip. “You sure you can figure it out?”

“Hey,” He retorted at the jibe. “I think you know age barely hinders me.”

“We can try,” You said. “I’ve never… it might be awkward.”

“Never,” He assured you. “But I’ll be coming down in September to help Kylie move back into dorms.”

“Kylie…” You echoed. “So, is she still trashin’ your place?”

“As far as I know,” He grumbled. “But I’ll deal with that when I get there. Maybe I’ll just cancel her little girls’ trip seeing as she’s already had her fair share of fun.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin with her,” You shook your head. “Well…”

“I can stay another night.” He offered.

“No, no, you should get going. I got a lot of stuff to do for this new job and some commissions to finish.” You said glumly. “Thanks. For everything. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” He kissed you again. “I’ll tell Bucky to take it easy on you.”

“He’s not so bad. I don’t think I’m in his section next year but we’ll see,” You chimed. “Drive safe.”

“I will, sweetie. I--” He stopped himself and glanced out the windshield. “You let me know how the job goes, okay?”

“Will do,” You said as you grabbed your purse. “See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” He nodded stiffly. “Goodbye.”

You kissed him one last time before you got and grabbed your bag from the trunk. You stepped up on the curve and he gave a small wave as he pulled away. You watched him go and turned to your building. The ivy creeping along the aged brick dragged you back from the sunny serenity of Hawaii.

Time to get back to real life.

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