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namgee · 3 years

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implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f) ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

#namjoon #kim namjoon #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #houseofddaeng #bts fluff #bts #btsfanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #slice of life #mine #namgee

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spield · 4 years

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journey to i - kakasaku

Author’s Notes: This has been in my google docs for so long, I’ve forgotten all about it. I low-key panicked when I couldn’t find it my files hahaha. But here it is. Not much romance, but more of... hmm, you tell me what you think it is in your comments! ;)

Disclaimer: As I’ve said before, sometimes I just write to get things out THEN edit it after. This is the case for this one. Will probably edit this soon though!

In the end, when Sasuke asks, Sakura says no.

She takes his lone hand, kisses his palm and whispers why she can’t.

Sasuke doesn’t understand but he sees the longing in her green eyes, and ah, that he understands. So he pokes her forehead, just above her seal, and hopes they meet on the road and promises a cup of tea.

She doesn’t linger to watch him leave. Instead, the moment he turns his back, she turns hers too. One feet in front of the other, she walks through the paths of her village, through the market and takes a few turns and goes inside the Hokage tower.

In less than an hour, Sakura files her indefinite leave with a promise to assist, help and support members of the Shinobi Alliance on her way but with no promise when she’ll come back.

Kakashi is outside when she steps out, no signs of his hat and coat but with his trademark slouch present. He must’ve jumped through the window, Sakura thinks amusedly. Somehow, even through everything, under the fading light, he still looks untouchable. Perhaps, especially now. “You going somewhere?”

“You just approved my papers.” Sakura smiles, waving the scroll in front of him. “You know where I’m going.”

Kakashi’s dark eyes - eyes, how odd - are unreadable as he says, “No. No, I don’t.”

There’s much left to say, but years of cowardice and hiding are not easy habits to break. So Sakura heads home, and is gone before the sunrise.

At the end of it all, Sakura goes on a journey to retrace her own family’s history. Beyond Konoha, beyond the Land of Fire and beyond the world of the shinobi.

Because before Sakura was the Fifth’s Apprentice, before she was The Scorpion Killer and way before she was the leftovers of an old genin team, Sakura was a Haruno.

And all Haruno go back to the sea.

She left Konoha with just one bag filled with colorful clothes that she never got to wear. Clothes that her mother and father gifted her year after year, holiday after holiday, even when she couldn’t wear them. Not in the village of leaves, not when they smell of the sea even if they’ve never touched it.

So, Haruno Sakura goes home.

This is what Sakura tells the Godaime, the Rokudaime and anyone who asks.

(This is what she tells herself, however, in the end, it’s still heartbreak that leads her away from Konoha. When she meets Sasuke for tea, she hopes they could talk about how Konoha broke their hearts in the way it never did to Naruto.)

All questions are quelled by a calling, by the vast distance, beyond the greens of different trees and blues of different seas tug at her heartstrings, whispering, “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Sakura circumnavigates the world and through her journey, she meets a monk, a lover and a heathen.

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs. From what she’d gathered throughout her years of friendship with Kankuro, they were pretty lenient to whatever gods their shinobi choose to worship.

“Maybe, you know, except for another Rabbit Goddess,” Kankuro backtracked, fingers uncoordinated and stiff from fighting, trying to balance a sake cup. It was the first time they’ve seen each other after the war, on the tails still of victory and defeat. High off it. “Yup, maybe not another Rabbit Goddess, maybe not Jashin either - everything else, fair game.”

“Faith is an interesting reprieve from the terrors of life.” Gaara said, righting his brother up with his sand. His teal eyes are fond and warm, and new. His gourd is nowhere to be seen and he looks so young for a man who led their army. “We let people have their gods.”

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs, or rather, they’re known for not being known for it but still, it’s where Sakura meets the monk.

Suna welcomes her with open arms because the sands may be forever shifting, but it never forgets. It remembers her as that 15 year old prodigy who saved their Kazekage’s brother, that 19, 20 and 21 year old who performed miracles in the battlefield with eyes fierce and elbows deep in people’s guts. Suna loves her for what she represents - grit, dirt and kindness honed by the cruelty of the world.

(Abandoned. That’s what Suna and Sakura had in common.)

Sometimes, Sakura wishes she could see what they see too.

Now, she’s 23 years old. Two years after the war and she’s still so tired.

In Suna, she’s given free reign of the hospital. Overseeing their developments in prosthesis, their puppet corps turned into experts of the field. She supposes Sasori would be rolling in his grave at the thought of how his notes revolutionized the entire field of artificial limbs - if he had a grave that is.

(Sasori was a brilliant man. Mad, yes, but brilliant - and aren’t the brilliant ones always are?)

When Sakura lessens her healing and caseload citing more hands-on training for the Suna medics, Gaara doesn’t ask. She’s still brilliant with her lectures and demonstration and nobody dares to question the greatest healer of the nations.

It is on the first day of her sixth month when she sees the monk. There’s some sort of blessing ceremony to be done to the new ward of the hospital. The Kazekage’s invited the religious leaders of Suna to bless the place.

Several came, all with different garments and different rituals. One came with water from a blessed oasis, all barefooted and with hair reaching up to the backs of their knees. They spoke a language she’s never heard, words running over like water over rocks in a bubbling stream. Another came in traditional Suna garments, and sprinkled sand over the white tiles of the new ward - under the setting sun, it looked like fairy dust and gold.

Many came and went, but one remained still at the outskirts of the crowd, quiet and familiar.

“It’s the first time he’s gone out in public since Chiyo-baa-sama’s death,” Kankuro shrugged when Sakura asked. “He’s kind of particular and all that.”

It isn’t until the sun dips down the horizon that the monk steps forward. At this point there aren’t anyone left but Gaara and Sakura but nevertheless, they receive no acknowledgement from the stooping man.

He’s quiet, as he bleeds his chakra to the floor and down every grain of sand in the ward. It always amazes Sakura how chakra lives in non-combatants - a proof that it exists beyond duty. And proof that it can, perhaps, one day exist only for beauty.

“Do you think he takes confessions?” Sakura whispers. Gaara’s lips quirk upwards, knowing that she knows the difference between a priest and a monk and yet indulges her. “Perhaps. If he does, let me know.” They’ve all got sins to unload, Sakura muses. And yet, despite being weighed down by all the choices she’s made and been forced to make, it’s not what spills from her mouth when she finds the monk a week after.

Or rather, he finds her. Coughing, old and sitting on her table.

There’s something about him, lungs barely holding on and yet still at peace, old age running lines on his face that had her saying, confessing - “I believe I am lost.”

The monk pauses, eyes torn away from the window and gravitating towards her face. Sakura doesn’t expect a response, after all, he hasn’t said a word to anyone for years. But, he shakes his naked head and offers her a smile, “Nothing is ever really lost.”

That night, she receives a missive from Konoha, like she’s been receiving for the past eleven months but this time, there are two of them. One is a response to the report she wrote about the progress of her study in prosthetics and the other, the other smelling of home and written in a piece of old weathered paper. It almost makes her smile. Mr. Ukki misses you.

Sakura doesn’t stay long after that. She fears that if she stays so near to home, its voice will overpower her roots’, and the sea has been waiting for her since she was born.

She bids Suna goodbye after a year of staying within its walls. She hugs Kankuro tightly, hold Temari’s hand and kisses Gaara’s cheek.

The Kazekage blushes underneath his hat and Kankuro jibes, “Well, if this is what farewell feels like, then you should say goodbye more often.”

For months, Sakura moves from town to town, village to village. Occasionally receiving scrolls from Konoha, asking her to lend assistance to a new ally or an old enemy.

It’s funny, how a great military power apologizes for its sins. Never acknowledging it, never calling it reparations, preferring the term “aid” when it only ever is leverage.

How odd.

How hypocritical.

(Sometimes, Sakura wonders if Uchiha Itachi was truly a loyal ninja of Konoha or if he was yet just another blinded soldier searching for idealism in a corrupted system. Was he a victim, truly? A hero? A martyr? To what end? For whom?)

In her bones, Sakura feels time slipping faster and faster, and despite these emerging thoughts, she wonders if spring has begun in Konoha.

She claims her free tea from Sasuke at a small town on the border of Iwakagure and Takigakure, almost half a year after she left Suna - two years into her journey.

“You need a haircut, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura greets and watches in satisfaction as the hobo-looking man looks up to her as she sits in front of him. His hair has grown longer, covering part of his face, finally succumbing to gravity and bidding the duck-butt style goodbye.

“Sakura.”

There’s something in the way Sasuke speaks her name. When they were kids, it’s always with dismissal and when they went on, it’s with a tone of chained fondness. During the war, it’s with disdain turned acknowledgement.

When they were in Konoha, Sakura could swear that she could hear pride in Sasuke’s voice, hidden behind the syllables of her name.

Here, he calls her with surprise melting into relief. Perhaps, being alone has taken a toll to her wayward teammate.

(Here’s the difference between the two: Sasuke is looking and running from something, Sakura knows where she’s going. Whether or not she’s running or looking too is irrelevant.) (Kind of.)

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura smiles and waves a waitress down, “Fancy a cup of tea with me?”

Sasuke nods, his lips tugging upward. His dark eyes linger on the spider silk strands of her hair against the orange setting sun. Her hair’s grown longer, almost as long as when they were genin.

For a short moment, he’s filled with dread, struggling to remember what young Sakura looked like. He’s starting to forget, perhaps, and it is both a blessing and a punishment.

The shadows shift and stretch under the guidance of the setting sun, and they exchange stories of the road until the moon nudges the sun to rest.

It’s funny how easy they fall into bed together, right after tea.

Sakura’s childhood dreams featured more of a courtship, a promise and a marriage. Teenage Sakura’s fantasy featured more heated kisses, a fight and a leveling of a forest in rage turned lust.

But this, this is so much better.

Sasuke touches her with surprising gentleness and want, after they trip their way to his accommodations. There’s a softness in the firm kisses of his mouth, a tremble playing at the edge of his fingertips. It’s not a battle, or a dance but rather an introduction. A hello followed by oh... gods, yes, there --

Sasuke makes it good, despite only having one arm, it must be an Uchiha thing to be so good at everything, Sakura thinks as she lay beside her former team mate.

In a different life, perhaps, she would’ve married Sasuke, she thinks as she watches his lashes flutter as he sleeps. Perhaps, she would’ve give him a child, a girl with his eyes and her hair. A pink-haired Uchiha. But this is not that lifetime.

Instead, Sakura meets Sasuke again - or perhaps for the very first time - as a lover. Washed anew by his journey, Sakura gets to know her former teammate as a man who can reel out moans and gasps from her, who can, after they decided to travel together for a while, and will start a fire to keep her warm and will tease her about her love affair when he reads Kakashi’s letter over her shoulder. “Was he the reason why you didn’t come with me?” Sasuke asks. They’re in the Land of Snow, farther from where Sakura really aims to go, but she’s got time to spare and Sasuke might actually be killed by the Raikage if he’s found shuffling around near their country without an escort. Sakura glances at the words written on the wrinkled parchment (Naruto’s taking classes with Shikamaru. Lots of reading for him to do. He tried using Kage Bunshin to study and knocked himself out. Time is of the essence, he said, and I agree.) and pinches that flicker of hope budding in her chest.

She shrugs at Sasuke’s question, “I think... I think I wouldn’t have gone with you even without him in the picture.” Something sad flickers in Sasuke’s eyes before it’s gone, “And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.”

In the frigid cold of the snow, Sasuke moves against Sakura as an apology and a goodbye. It’s more than comrades sharing warmth but less than lovers making love. At the back of Sakura’s mind, she wonders if Kakashi knows - if he’s angry or if, like always, he understands. (She misses him, even when they’ve never had each other like this. But the intimacy of sex is trumped by the intimacy in battle, in handling each other with precious care, scars and blood be damned. It is an intimacy borne of desperation, fostered by respect, watered with fondness -- and killed out of love. She misses him, but time is of the essence.)

Sasuke and Sakura split up at the outskirts of the Land of Stone at the start of her third year of travelling. He went East, she went West and that was that. A few days in, Sakura enters Asakura. Asakura is the city of heathens - prostitutions, gambling, and underground dealing. It’s the city of sin, which means, it’s also the land of base instincts and humanity stripped to its bare bones.

It seems like a city just right up her shishou’s alley. Sakura only had to follow the sounds of bellowing, of bodies of men flying out of tavern, and murmurs about a (beautiful but) crazy bitch burning through her own money to find Tsunade.

News of another jinchuuriki kage reaches her ears too, but she brushes it away. It’s been three years since she last saw her shishou and in the dim lights of the tavern, she’s glad to see her as youthful as ever, and tries to erase the image of her wan, old, and dying.

It is only after Tsunade wins that Sakura approaches with a bottle of sake on hand.

Glancing down at the large money of pot she just won, Tsunade’s heart pounds hard looking at the girl she broke and trained and broke again until she remade herself - her daughter in all but name - and chokes, joking, “Are you dying?”

When her girl smiles, all calm and accepting, and raises a bottle of the most expensive sake Tsunade ever tasted, something inside the old Senju crumbles.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Oh Sakura, what have you done?”

Tsunade’s hands are shaking, the fading glow of her uselessness mocking her in the darkness of Sakura’s rented room.

“Everything, shishou. I’ve done everything. I’ve read every book, prayed to every god--”

“God? What good is a god?”

Initially, Tsunade refuses to let her go. Forces Sakura to stay put with the same glint in her eyes when she taught the kid how to dodge, but it seemed the Slug Princess taught her too well.

Because after the barbs, sarcasm and nights of getting way too drunk off the pots of money Tsunade continues to win, Sakura says goodbye.

And Tsunade, not as bitter as she would’ve been, lets her go, and curses the gods for not taking her instead - because hasn’t she witnessed to many deaths already?

It’s at the fourth year of her journey does Sakura finally lays her eyes on the blue of seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands. The calling is silent now that she’s come.

She sheds her old life - her headband, her gloves and her boots and brings out the vibrantly colored fabrics from her parents. It’s silk against her pinkened skin, and the sand is warm against her feet.

It feels like a hug and a song of - “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Kakashi writes to her and Sakura doesn’t answer with a letter of her own.

Instead, she sends Kakashi eel that she herself smoked, a small vial of pink sand and a kiss on a card.

That night, she dances under the moonlight like a flickering moth around the pyre she built.

The oceans sings for her and she is home.

After that, there’s no more letters from Konoha.

In the middle of the fourth year of her journey and the year mark of her semi-permanent residence by the seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands, Ino visits her. Ino, with her platinum blond hair arrives, still beautiful even with sweat dripping off her.

It takes three days of sunbathing, flower weaving and rebuilding of an old friendship before Ino asks her to come home.

“Haven’t you been away for far too long?” Ino asks, quiet and grown. The days of high-pitch screams and name-calling seems so far away from this little shack by the sea, in this little life her best friend built for herself.

They’ve spoken of their friends - Naruto’s marriage, Shikamaru’s courtship fo Temari, Ino’s love with Sai and they laughed like bells but Ino didn’t find an ounce of longing in her friend’s eyes, and she already knew she has lost.

Sakura looks to the shore, there’s a storm coming and hums, “Perhaps.”

The last letter she receives from Konoha is not a letter at all.

It’s a missive, an invitation - for the Rokudaime’s retirement and the Nanadaime’s ascension.

“God? What good is a god?”

Who knows? For believers, gods are good for much but--

Because Sakura is not a reincarnation of a god, when she touched Kaguya with her fist glowing green and blue, Sakura touched something not human.

And it touched her back.

A year into the peace, it rooted deep inside her bones, a poison of the gods against humans brave and stupid enough to lay hands on them.

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to understand her predicament. She was rotting inside out. Her chakra is poisoning her organs, taking bits off her little by little and so she left Konoha. In leaving, she left what was blossoming between her and Kakashi too in hopes that perhaps she could spare him from this pain.

But also, she left for this: the sea, the calling and the sand under her feet, and the presence drawing near.

On the last day of her journey, five years after she left, with her life force draining and yet stretching still - holding on, waiting, the Rokudaime, Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu, her lover, her love - arrives on the shores of this little island west of Whirlpool.

He is older, of course he is. But still, Sakura runs towards him and he, mask pulled down, feet bare and eyes warm - finally free-, takes the last step and meets her halfway. (There’s still much left to say, but they’ve had years of dealing with cowardice and hiding that they’re laughingly easy habits to break.)

#kakasaku #mild sasusaku #kankusaku friendship #gaasaku friendship #tsunade #journey to i #inosaku friendship #the aftermaths of touching a god

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petri808 · 4 years

Note

If you're doing the smut prompts can you do 107 with Nalu pretty please 🙏😁

Everything They Always Wanted

“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” Request prompt.

Sorry for the long wait, sometimes I struggle with smut now ;-; so I hope you like it :)

‘You just had to choose that snack��. Are you doing this to punish me? Feels like a punishment…. Little tease. I know it’s hot today, but really, Lucy? A popsicle? Yeah you keep licking that Melona bar, running your tongue up and down over its smooth surface. Does it taste good?’

He can feel his shorts tightening just a tad from the images playing in his mind. Slowly… her tongue flattens against the sweet saccharine on a stick. ‘I see that melon confection. Soft, milky goodness running down your throat. I could give you some soft, milky goodness too….’

His breathing falters when she glances in his direction. A naughty grin plastered on her face as she swallows the last bit into her mouth. ‘Oh no you didn’t. You little vixen! I should punish you for teasing me. Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt…. No not really, I’d never hurt you like that, but I will punish you, don’t you worry. How about…’

Snap Snap

Natsu turns toward the source of fingers being snapped at him, glaring at being pulled out of his fantasy. “What, fucker?”

Gray rolls his eyes, “dude wipe your mouth. You’re spacing out at her again.”

“So, what? I can look.”

“Yeah, but don’t have the balls to touch,” Gray quips back. “I’m getting tired of you two playing eye sex with each other, one of you needs to make a damn move.”

“Tch.” Natsu crosses his arm and leans back against his chair. “Then don’t look.”

His friend sighs and props his head up with his hand on the table. “Don’t you wanna move from just fantasizing to a real relationship? You’ve been ogling her since high school but are still stuck in the friendzone.”

“It’s… It’s not like that,” Natsu turns away from Gray. Of course, he wanted to be closer to her. But he was still relegated to fantasizing from a distance. Most of the mental images were a complete folly, and when he returns his gaze to the girl it returns to normal. Just Lucy and her friend Levy enjoying a warm afternoon with some cool treats.

“It’s obvious to everyone in the group you guys like each other,” his friend reinforces. “She’s probably just waiting for you to say something.”

Not probably, Natsu was certain that was the case. The night of their graduation, she was so drunk, he had to take her back to his house to sleep it off so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her dad. Lucy had wanted more… not just physically but emotionally but there was no way he would take advantage when she was drunk. If she’d remembered what she’d said the next day, he would have happily accepted. But she didn’t, and he left it at that. To continue pining from a distance. Two years have gone by since that night and they were both in full swing of college life. The friendship has remained intact, but his desire for the blonde had only grown.

“I’m workin’ on it,” Natsu finally responds as Lucy waves him over. “Hey, I gotta go,” he stands up and fist bumps his friend. “Gonna help Lucy with some kind of paper for her class.”

“You should help her out of her…”

Natsu cuts Gray off, “finish that sentence and I’ll tell Juvia you’re actually gay and in love with Lyon.”

Before Gray can respond, Lucy walks over and weaves her arm around Natsu’s. “Hi Gray,” she smiles at their friend then turns to her escort. “You ready to go Natsu?”

“Yup,” he smiles back. “Where’d you wanna study, my dorm or yours?”

“We can use mine.”

It was a short walk back to the dorms from the campus café. On the way there, Lucy explained the project she wanted Natsu’s help with. The subject itself wasn’t the problem, it was creating a slide presentation that she struggled with. She was familiar with Powerpoint, but the teacher wanted them to use Google Slides instead and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how to add audio in. It was the perfect rouse.

Lucy nibbles at her lip as they enter her dorm and she closes the door behind them. She was nervous about the real question that drove this request, but it had to be done before she went insane. It had taken courage juice the night of their graduation, yet she’d found out just how much of a gentleman Natsu could be when he’d refused her advances. That night two years ago still haunted her. But this time she was sober, and after a pep talk by Levy, Lucy steals herself to give it one more try. She needed to know for certain how he felt.

“Where’s your laptop?” Natsu turns from the desk to ask the blonde. “I don’t see it.”

“I lied,” she fidgets with her fingers and rocks on the balls of her heels. “I don’t need help with an assignment. I need… a different kind of help.”

“Oh--kay?” his eyebrow raises at her strange behavior. “What sort of help?”

She walks over to her bed and leans back against it, her eyes averted yet glancing up through her lashes to watch his reaction. “Do you remember graduation night?”

“Yeah…”

“So do I.”

Natsu tilts his head confused. “You do?”

She nods. “I tried telling you then… what I’m about to tell you now.”

He leans back against the desk to steady himself as flashbacks of that night pour through his mind. “No need,” he whispers. “I think I know what you want to tell me.”

“Then answer this,” a soft exhale leaves her lips. “I waited and waited… it’s fine, I get that you didn’t want to take advantage because I was drunk, but do you really not see me that way?” Her voice grows quieter, holding back the sadness in her tone. “I just need to know for sure Natsu why you’ve never...”

If only she knew the fantasy’s I have of her….

Natsu crosses the floor until he stands before her. “You wanna know?” He pulls her to her feet roughly so that her body crashes into his. “How for 6 years I’ve watched you from afar.” He grabs her chin, forcing her gaze squarely on him. “The jealousy when others came around…” he nips her chin. “The fantasy’s….” trailing kisses along her neck. “How I wanted to rip your clothes off…” he murmurs next to her ear. “Take you and claim what should be mine…” nibbling the shell of her ear. “But I wanted to respect our friendship until you were ready…” he runs his tongue along the shell, “are you ready?”

Lucy shoves him back and slaps him across the face. “Yeah, I been waiting! What took you so long! Did I need to grab your crotch that night and say take me or something?!”

Oh, hell yes! He grins, rubbing the spot on his cheek where she’d hit. There was his feisty girl. Natsu pulls her back to him and slams his lips against hers with all the pent-up years of frustration and lust behind it. His hands roaming down, slipping under her skirt to grab hold of her ass, bare, he finds, save for the thin string of a thong. Naughty girl.

She fights back in pretentious anger that Natsu had left her high and dry for so long, how dare he think he can just take her so easily! “Bastard,” Lucy bites his lip hard to stop his kiss.

He spanks her ass hard. “Brat!”

“You know I can be,” Lucy retorts with a smirk.

Natsu tastes the distinct flavor of iron as he runs his tongue over his lip. She got him a good one. “Bite me that hard again and your ass is gonna pay for it.”

“Awww,” Lucy teases and leans in, letting her lips linger over his, “is that so?” She sucks his lip in, running her tongue over the flesh before biting it again and earning a squeak from the man.

He had sorely miss judged her. “Ouch!” He spanks her harder the second time. “Where the hell did this side of you come from?!”

“Oww!” Lucy rubs away the sting. She stares him down with her hands on her hips and a furrow to her brow. “Pfft, you think you’re the only one that has pent up shit?!”

A permeable tension builds as a staring contest ensues. Neither moves from their positions. Lucy stands her ground and Natsu stays wrapped around with his hands gripped to her hips. He was a little confused, was Lucy really angry or was she messing with him? She’d bit him pretty hard and the first time he’d spanked her was in play, but the second time was because she’d genuinely surprised him.

But her refusal to move, what did it mean? Ugh! This was all starting to feel like that night all over again! Instead of inebriation causing a miscommunication, it was the unresolved tension it had triggered. Her resolve was unflinching this time around, and her gaze kept him glued on her. If it wasn’t for the tinge of pink on her cheeks….

“Oh, to hell with it!” Natsu growls and cups her face so quickly, forcing their lips back together into a kiss that Lucy has no chance to bite down a third time. Their teeth clash from the rushed and sloppy move, but he doesn’t stop, pressing in deeper and coveting every ounce of what he can get from her. His thoughts and emotions are on edge, waiting for any sign of push back… that never comes.

Because this is what she had waited for! Passion! Lucy grabs hold of his shirt, fisting it and yanking, toppling them backwards onto the bed. It was a fight, but not for dominance as she uses her legs to scooch them higher onto the middle. She wasn’t going to let him stop this time and weaves her fingers through his hair, gripping on to keep his mouth molded to hers. “More,” she moans when he sucks on her tongue and his canines graze the sensitive appendage. Lucy tugs at his shirt.

“Slow down, Luce… protection!”

“No…” she breathes out and yanks harder, forcing him to stop kissing her to remove the offending clothing article. “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.” She presses forward. While he pulls off his shirt, her fingers begin undoing his belt and pants. Natsu tries to stay her hand, but she swats his away, and finishes the job. “Off!”

Damn she was being demanding! And frankly this was only exciting him more. He shifts his body, sitting back on his haunches to work off the pants and underwear, as Lucy gets her top off. Her skirt was a bit trickier with her legs buttressed between his, so she shimmies them down as far as she can. Natsu grins and yanks them the rest of the way off, licking his lips as they reveal everything god had given her.

And she was ripe for the picking. Her neatly trimmed blonde curls glistened faintly from the heated juices oozing from her sex. “I swear you’ll be the death of me Luce.” His dick throbbed just from the sight of her, he could image how sweet it’ll feel to slide his way through her walls.

“Ditto, big boy,” she winks as she eyeballs what the man was packing. Natsu was a perfect fucking specimen of a man, and his dick was beautiful to her, with a slight curve and thickness that made her heart thud in anticipation.

He lowers himself over her, wedging between her thighs and pressuring his dick against her sex. This was it. This was the moment they’d been waiting for too many damn years. He looks to her once more for reassurance, gaining a slight nod and an awkward, nervous smile as she braces for what came next. He’d dreamed of this so many times, masturbated to so many fantasies…

“Wow…” he moans at the feeling of being inside Lucy, finally, it was so much better than his hand. His body temperature was higher than most, but the warmth surrounding his dick and the pressure, it felt fucking amazing! Natsu leans down, prone against her body, his hips moving in measured thrusts as her legs wrap around his thighs.

“Sooo, gooood,” Lucy groans and arches her body in time with his. She mewls, gasping when his mouth latches onto her breast, suckling around the large bosoms, and sucking on her nipples. He coveted every inch he could reach with his mouth, working the areas and leaving love marks in his wake. Her fingers thread into his hair, pulling when his teeth graze sensitive spots.

Harder… deeper… spills from her lips in repetition. “Right there!” she cries out when he shifts his angle in an upward thrust. “K-Keep doing exactly what you’re doing!” Lucy didn’t even know about the spot, but whatever he was touching upon inside her was making her see stars. A tight coil was building in her core, ready to blow at any moment. Her voice quivers from the flash of light behind her eyes lids as she spills, and her legs lock up. She cries out through the orgasmic waves, Natsu’s name a rumble of incoherencies.

“Fuck…” He forgoes her breasts and lifts himself up. With a firm grip on her hips, Natsu slams into her over and over at a quick pace. With her walls clamping down around his dick, it had spelled the end for him. As she twisted and arched with every wave, he held on, riding it for as long as he could. “Luce…” he groans as his own orgasm hits harder than any had by his own hand.

“Damn…” He falls forward all out of breath, resting his head against her pillowy breasts. It had all been too fast. He’d want to enjoy his first time with her, the whole making love thing and all. Not that he was complaining, oh no, this had been amazing for sure, but Natsu wanted to pleasure her, explore every part of her body like an explorer on a mission.

“Hey, are you okay?” She questions him, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. Was he just that tired? Lucy was surprised his stamina wasn’t better.

He lifts his head to meet her gaze. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t seem very happy.”

“What?! Of course, I am! It’s just… well,” he looks away with a different flush in his cheeks, “I’ve never had sex before and I, you know, like in those romance novels wanted to make love to you.”

Lucy chuckles and pulls his face back, placing a kiss on his lips. The spot where she’d bit him hard was a little swollen making her feel a little bad about how rough she’d been. She’ll need to make that up to him later. “Neither have I,” she smiles, “and this was far better than any story.”

“But you deserve more.”

“I deserve you, and we have plenty of time to try new things.”

#nalu #nalu smut #nalu fanfic #nalu au #nalu fan fiction #modern college setting #prompt request #natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #natsu x lucy

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mythicalsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

In The Bleak Midwinter (G)

This gift is for: Grace-Anna (AKA @rhettroedits) Seaborne does not particularly enjoy Christmas and he especially doesn’t enjoy being back in his home town for it. From your Secret Santa, Mai (AKA @holdbythenotsharp)

Link to AO3, or read below:

As the insufferably cheery notes of Wonderful Christmastime invade his awareness, Charles Seaborne realizes he has been standing in front of the uninspiring wine selection of an A&C, staring at it blankly for some time. Trying to choose between a mediocre Merlot and quite possibly an even more mediocre Pinot Noir is impossible with the seasonal jingle assaulting his ears, overriding intelligent thought.

To be honest, he’d prefer whiskey, but years spent away from his home state had made him forget grocery stores here don’t carry hard liquor. To be really honest, he could die a lucky man, if he never had to hear Wonderful Christmastime again, he thinks as he reaches for the Merlot.

Seaborne doesn’t enjoy surprises. As a rule, he doesn’t allow himself to be caught off-guard. Some might call him inflexible, even uptight, he prefers methodical and well-prepared. But as it turns out, it’s very difficult to be prepared for seeing a ghost.

He had been on his way to the checkout, before remembering his intention to pick up a proper shampoo to replace the miserable 2 in 1 his hotel offered, so he turns around to navigate back to the personal care aisle. Halfway there he spots the figure of a tall man standing in the middle of the pet food aisle, browsing dog treats. It had been years since Seaborne last saw him. His glasses are smaller than they used to be, with subtle metal rims, and he’d grown a full beard at some point, but there was no mistaking. His best friend from childhood — who he had not heard from for almost a decade — had apparently gotten a dog.

Apprehension and dread overwhelm Seaborne. He wants to run away, but his feet have stopped moving. It’s not like they had a falling out, really. He could probably just say hello, and Roach would probably say hi back. But then what?

Roach drops a bag of treats into his basket, jolting Seaborne back into action. He scurries behind a shelf and pretends to be engrossed in canned fruit until his heart stops racing. After a moment of contemplation, he decides he can subject his hair to the torture of 2 in 1 for a day or two more and makes his way out of the store, stealing glances over his shoulder, making sure he is not spotted. He doesn’t notice his hands trembling until he’s sitting in his El Camino in the parking lot, failing for the third time to aim the key into the ignition.

By the time he’s back at his hotel room, a spartan affair at a Holiday Inn near the interstate 40, he has almost convinced himself the man he had seen was actually a ghost, or possibly one of those kombucha drinking hipsters that had invaded the town since his last visit. What are the chances it was the man Seaborne specifically hoped to avoid this trip?

After watching two episodes of Magnum P.I. and polishing off most of the wine, he’s practically forgotten about the encounter. It’s as if it hadn’t happened at all. He plans to go on as usual, as if it’s just another job in just another town, not the prodigal son’s return to a place that had not been kind to him. That night he has an unsettling dream about being lost in a maze of dark alleyways, wandering endlessly, hunger and thirst eating away at his insides. Just when he expects to collapse next to a stack of pallets in some dead end that stinks like month old garbage, he notices a lonely turkey vulture on a nearby rooftop staring at him with piercing eyes, waiting.

The dream refuses to leave him alone the following day, and gloomy imagery creeps back into his mind as he sits in his car, staring out of the window and across a parking lot at an office building. It’s rainy and chilly, and the windows of the El Camino keep fogging up as he shivers in his seat, fingers wrapped tightly around a takeaway cup of some sickly sweet gingerbread flavored coffee concoction. If nothing else, the sugar and the caffeine should give him energy to keep staring at the building’s only exit. The guy he was hired to follow should be out any moment now, but Seaborne is not a patient man, so he fiddles with the knobs of the car radio, taps along on the lid of his cup after finding a station that doesn’t play Christmas songs and — after realizing the tapping will not keep him entertained for long — fishes out his phone from his pocket. He’s been doing this for years, he can easily keep one eye on the door of the office building and the other on his phone, while he idly slides his thumb across the screen to reveal increasingly inane, mostly holiday-related, updates from distant friends and even more distant family members.

“Where the hell is he?” Seaborne mutters to no one but himself and leans back in his seat. Even after all the years of working in a job with a lot of downtime, he hasn’t learned to tolerate boredom. It still makes him irritable and antsy; like each minute spent with nothing to do pressurizes the anxious energy inside him until he is ready to pop.

After a while of scrolling, he is sure he doesn’t want to see another picture of someone’s child or pet in a cutesy costume or posed in front of a decorated tree in a mockery of domestic bliss. He hasn’t been paying that much attention to the motions of his thumb, so when he looks down again he’s startled to see the profile page of a Jim Roach. After some initial hesitation he browses through the pictures, just to confirm he is in fact still with Gina and they have two kids and a third on the way. There are several collections of photos, of a vacation to Hawaii, of an anniversary party, of their children’s birthdays. Seaborne scours through them frantically, like he’s trying to find something specific, but he doesn’t know what. When he looks up from the device, his is the only car in the parking lot and the office building looks dark and empty.

That night as he sits alone in his hotel room, trying to distract himself from the strange and somewhat disconcerting damp smell lingering in the surrounding air, he googles Roach. For no real reason, just… He’s curious. He finds Roach has started a business selling commercial kitchen equipment, and all signs imply he is doing alright for himself. He lives not too far from where they both grew up and his number is listed. Seaborne saves the number on his phone. Just in case.

When he calls the number the following morning, he hasn’t planned what to say. Indeed, he hadn’t planned to call at all, but he can’t get the number out of his mind. The mere presence of the number in his phone’s memory has been burning a hole through his pocket ever since he left the hotel earlier. It’s still early, he figures. Judging by the opening hours of Roach’s store, he might still reach him by calling his home number. He hits the call icon on his screen, fully aware he has never done a single thing so spontaneously in his entire life. It rings for some time, and he contemplates hanging up.

“Hello?” Gina answers the phone.

Seaborne inhales to say… to say what exactly? His mind is blank, and his jaw is so stiff he fears he couldn’t move it even if he knew what to say.

“Hello?” Gina’s voice is more demanding and Seaborne is sorry for bothering her like this. She’s probably trying to get the kids to school or something. He really shouldn’t have called. Hanging up on her seems more courteous than creepy, given the circumstances. He decides to drive by Roach’s house later instead to satisfy his curiosity about how the man lives these days, maybe see what kind of car he drives, or if he has a pool.

The driveway is empty when he gets there a few hours later, and he can’t see a pool, but Seaborne slows down to get a good look at the swing set in the yard. It’s a nicer model, he knows after shopping for one for his niece’s birthday last year. The house is nice too; it looks welcoming and happy nestled in between others just like it, with their well-maintained gardens marred only by the occasional scattered toy. Roach has come a long way from where he was when the arrival of his firstborn pressured him into accepting a job offer from his father-in-law instead of pursuing a career with his best friend.

The twinge of something dark he felt outside Roach’s house returns to him later at night, when he is back alone in his hotel room. The feeling is hard to name. Jealousy of the pleasant, middle class family life Seaborne never accomplished with his ex-wife, perhaps, or remorse of letting all that between him and his best friend? Sleep evades him as he tosses and turns in his overly soft bed, getting up every once in a while to adjust the temperature, have a glass of water or to urinate. No amount of focusing on his breathing or imagining himself on a tropical beach calms down the heavy pounding of his vexed heart. He doesn’t know what a panic attack feels like, but suspects it might be something like this.

Even three cups of coffee cannot revive him the next day. Exhaustion is like an itch behind his eyes and sitting still in a car with nothing to do aggravates him even more than usual. The insecurity and guilt that had cursed his existence the night before still linger in him, gnawing away at his usual indifference and cynicism. Worst of all, the day has been long but futile, Seaborne has still not got any incriminating evidence against the man he has been following for the better part of a week and he is seriously considering just packing up his things and going back home. What good will it do him, another day or two in this town that only reminds him of his loneliness? As if the holiday season wasn’t bad enough already.

The passenger side door of the El Camino opens, interrupting his thoughts. Seaborne turns to scold the intruder, but the words he had held on his tongue glide to the back of his throat and he swallows them, as the intruder settles down on the seat beside him, arranges his long legs neatly under the dashboard and leans back in the seat like it’s something natural he does every day. For a while they just sit still, air thick with anticipation. Seaborne has no idea what to expect, and the questions spinning in his mind refuse to be arranged to words.

“What’s the gig? Who are we following?” the intruder says. He’s wearing sunglasses instead of the glasses he had on in the grocery store, and he looks a bit like a rock star with his big beard and leather jacket. Or a moron, considering it’s not sunny, but Seaborne lets that slide for now.

“We are not following anyone, dude, what are you doing here?” Seaborne can’t help but feel a little self-conscious about still wearing the same gray tweed coat, now sporting holes in the elbows. It’s still a good coat, though, and he was never one to throw away perfectly usable items of clothing.

“You wouldn’t have driven by my house six times in two days if you weren’t looking for help.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so what are we doing?”

“It’s an infidelity thing… You know, I only drove by your house because the guy’s mom lives near there, at the end of the cul-de-sac. I was looking for him and thought he might be there.”

“Sure. Good to see ya, man.”

“Hmm.”

Seaborne wants to say he missed Roach, working with him, or just sitting with him like this, but it might be too much. They never said things like that before, theirs just wasn’t that kind of a relationship. He suspects Roach is not expecting it either, judging by the way he leans his cheek on the side window, staring intensely at something outside. Probably some squirrels running around in the park across the street.

“So. Still investigating privately after all these years,” Roach says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Turns out it’s what I’m good at. Or at least somewhat more successful than as a chef.” Seaborne replies. It’s not untrue, he’s made a name for himself and has a steady trickle of cases landing on his table, even if success may be a slight overstatement.

“Questioning the questionable. Missing dogs and eaten flowers, still?”

“Shut up.” A slight twitch in the corner of Seaborne’s mouth reveals he doesn’t mind the gentle jabbing. The years had softened some parts of him at least. He is no longer the tightly wound bundle of aggression and defensiveness he once was. “Still a lot of cheaters though.”

“You know I gotta ask… is the guy at least older than twelve this time?”

“Come on, man!” Seaborne can no longer contain his giggling, and the delighted grin on Roach’s face only spurs him on. “At least acknowledge my lack of mustache first!”

#mythical secret santa 2020 #type: fic #rating: G #gift swap #submission

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missmentelle · 4 years

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I just watched the Netflix show You and it's been discussed but I don't really understand - in a relationship, how does one project their own views and fantasies onto another person? How can you tell if it's happening? Is there a certain point where it's normal or it can't be helped? It's happened a lot in the show but I'm having trouble identifying it. Also, I recommend watching You: it's a thoughtful take on how we view romantic relationships as a society and how that can be twisted

I absolutely love that show. For those of you who haven’t seen the thriller show “You”, it’s about a charismatic but underachieving man named Joe who works as the manager at a bookstore in Manhattan. He meets a young grad student named Beck when she comes into his bookstore one afternoon, and is immediately infatuated with her; he is completely consumed by his desire for a relationship with her, and it becomes clear very quickly that he’s willing to go to extreme lengths to make it happen. (Mild spoilers for Season One ahead) Joe is obsessed with Beck from the moment he lays eyes on her. But of course, he’s not really obsessed with her - he is obsessed with the person that he wants her to be. He decides - based only on her clothes, the book she buys and a three-minute conversation with her - that she’s a bookish “good girl” and an intellectual, a serious writer who values real literature and doesn’t crave men’s attention. And he’s very interested in that. She’s his Manic Pixie Dream Grad Student, whether she likes it or not. It’s clear from the very beginning that Joe thinks extremely highly of himself, and he feels entitled to a woman who is just as intelligent and sophisticated as he is - when he looks at Beck, he decides that she’s that perfect girl he’s been waiting for all along. Moreover, he decides that she’s equally interested in him - she pays for her book with a credit card, and Joe decides that she did that because she intentionally wanted Joe to learn her full name. And of course, as Joe learns more about Beck, he discovers that she’s not the artsy, aloof writer he had been envisioning in his head. She goes out drinking with friends that Joe dislikes, she has a trashy boyfriend, she posts selfies on Instagram, and doesn’t actually do any writing. But instead of deciding “oh wow, I was super wrong about this girl, I definitely got carried away”, Joe decides that the REAL Beck is the girl he fantasized about in the bookstore, and that she just needs his help to realize it. He decides that he knows what’s best for a woman who is a complete stranger to him, deliberately manipulating her life to turn her into more of the person he wants her to be, until... well, you know how it ends.

When you first start watching You, it can be hard to understand how messed-up Joe actually is. He is the main character of the show, and the narrator. He is also capable of great kindness - he genuinely cares for the neglected child who lives in an abusive household next door - and it kinda feels like we’re supposed to root for him. After all, he just wants what’s best for Beck. He sees who she really is inside, and he knows that she deserves better than the life she has right now. He just wants her to reach her full potential and stop wasting time with people who don’t really care about her... what could be so bad about that?

The problem, of course, is that Joe doesn’t know jack shit about Beck, and he has no right to decide what is and isn’t good for her. She is a grown-ass woman, and he is a stranger she met at a bookstore. Joe claims to have good intentions, but his intentions aren’t the point here - nobody has the right to meddle in someone else’s life behind their back, no matter how much they love and care about them. When you truly care about someone, you respect their choices - Joe has absolutely no respect for the decisions Beck makes, and sees no issues with isolating, stalking and terrorizing her if it gets him what he wants. Joe claims that Beck is miserable, but we don’t know actually know that - he filters everything he sees through a very thick lens of his own self-interest. He doesn’t allow her basic autonomy to choose what matters to her. Beck is not actually a real person to Joe - she is a prize that he wants to win.

Think about the show from Beck’s perspective - you’re an adult, with your own whole, complete life. You have friends, dreams, a boyfriend, guilty pleasures. You make bad choices sometimes, sure, but they are YOUR choices, and you have the freedom to make them. And then you walk into a shop one day and the man behind the counter suddenly decides that you’re his soulmate and it’s now his job to make decisions for you. You barely know this guy, but he thinks he has the right to control your life - he wants to control who you date, who you talk to, and how you spend your time. Imagine doing something as ordinary as paying for a book with your credit card, and having the person behind the counter interpret this as evidence that you want them to Google you and come to your house. The very idea of it is terrifying.

The plot of You is obviously a huge dramatization, but the same dynamic does appear in real-life abusive relationships. Abusers often have very specific ideas about what their ideal partner should be like, and they believe - consciously or unconsciously - that they are “owed” this person. When they meet someone, they tend to decide extremely quickly that THIS is finally the person they’ve been waiting for all along. They don’t really feel the need to get to know the person as an individual - they assume that they already know everything they need to know about the person, and that the relationship will be effortless. When that inevitably doesn’t pan out because their partner is a real person with needs and flaws, they get angry and the abuse starts to come out - they try harder and harder to control their partner and force them back into being the perfect person they’d envisioned, and they lash out angrily when that doesn’t work.

Although it’s nowhere near as extreme as what happened in You, I’ve had my own experiences with dating someone who was projecting their fantasies on me. My long-term college boyfriend was several years older than me, and already finished with grad school while I was still an undergrad. As the relationship went on, it became very clear that he was looking for a meek, nerdy girl who would appreciate his geek interests but never try to overshadow him. He strongly encouraged me to do the nerdy thing he approved of - cosplaying, attending conventions, playing D&D - but didn’t want me wearing makeup (I wear winged liner every day of my life), dyeing my hair strange colours (which I used to do quite often as a student) or even wearing my contact lenses instead of glasses (I got contacts the moment I was old enough and haven’t been seen in my glasses since). He was hugely threatened by the fact that I took my academics seriously, and he freaked out when I was accepted to an Ivy League grad school because “it would be so humiliating to have a girlfriend who went to a better school than I did”. He had a very specific vision of the kind of girlfriend he wanted to have, and he was prepared to try to stamp out the parts of me that didn’t align with what he wanted. It’s okay to have standards and expectations for the kind of partner you want to have. That’s normal. I’d argue that it’s necessary. Speaking from personal experience, life is a lot easier when you expect your partners to have mastered basic communication and coping skills. And sometimes you will need to look for a partner who has very specific traits - if your dream is to have 12 children and live on a goat farm, you need to find a partner who is on board with that goal. It’s also fine to have preferences in terms of aesthetics, interests and lifestyles - we’re always going to have certain things that we find appealing, and it’s okay to be into that. What’s not okay is to have such rigid expectations about how our future partner will look, dress and behave that we can’t cope with not getting our exact fantasy. It’s fine to think that dating a quirky art major with a nose ring would be awesome. It’s not fine to think that dating a quirky art major with a nose ring is the answer to all your problems. And it’s definitely not fine to latch on to the first quirky art major with a nose ring that you can find, and then punish them when they turn out to be a complex human with real issues and not just a living doll. Whenever you’re dating, it’s important to remember that you are dating a real, live human, and not a cartoon character. They are going to grow and change, and they are going to have flaws, off-days and traits that don’t match up with your fantasies. Your punky goth girlfriend is going to have days where she just wants to lounge around the house in her pajamas and watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Your tough, manly lumberjack boyfriend might have a super sensitive gag reflex and spend an awful lot of time on the phone with his mom. We’re all weird, and each of us needs to have the freedom to be our own kind of weird in a relationship - if you find that your desire to be with someone is extremely dependent on their appearance, dress, weight, hobbies, friends, job, etc, and you can’t handle not having control over those things, you aren’t ready to date. The other big red flag to look for here is how fast someone rushes the relationship. If you’re projecting your fantasies on someone, you don’t really feel much need to get to know them - like Joe, you’re pretty sure that you know everything that you need to know about them soon after meeting. You are fully expecting this person to be the fantasy partner you desire, and so there’s no point waiting to see how the relationship goes - within weeks, you’re ready to move in together, adopt a pet together, and even get engaged. If you’re convinced that a person you met three weeks ago is your soulmate, it’s time to stop and take a hard look at things - you don’t know a person you meet three weeks ago, and you have no idea if they’re your soulmate or not. You are trying to date a fantasy and not a real person. Hope this answers your question! MM

#Anonymous

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

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animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

#patb #a!#pinky and the brain #animaniacs #i'm almost done with a! now!#only one more short to go #more importantly #i'm done with this short specifically. so i never have to watch it again

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bellemorte180 · 4 years

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Degas

Caroline Forbes had her life mapped out. She was not about the let anything stand in her way; including the unexpected appearance of her soulmate. The fact that he is her professor, might make this a bit complicated.

Written for Klaroline week, Day 7-Trope x Trope- Soulmates mixed with Professor/Student

Thank you @klaroline-events

The thing about soulmates was the fact that were rare. The words were written on the forearm of every person but that never meant that anyone would actually hear those words spoken by their soulmate. It was more common than not that the words were never uttered. Someone could hear their soulmate speak for years but if the words were not directly spoken to the person who had them inked on their skin; the soulmates would never connect.

It was rare for someone’s words to be spoken and Caroline was not about to put her life on hold for a daydream that most likely would never happen. At first in her early teens, she swore up and down that she would find him. Then she dated Damon during her sophomore of high school and vowed to never again arrange her life for a man. It was not Caroline’s fault that Damon did find his soulmate but that she died so soon after their meeting. Although, he did try and live his life after the loss of her but Caroline never measured up to Damon’s version of perfection. He called her shallow and useless. Stating that Caroline could never possibly get into a university such as Duke. So, out of spite Caroline worked her ass off and did just that and on a full ride.

While Damon was never physically abusive, he could never stop comparing her to the ghost of Katherine Pierce.

“Caroline, are you coming?” Bonnie, Caroline’s roommate, asked. Bonnie and Caroline met during freshman year of college and have been friend’s ever since. Years later, the two still lived together through ups and downs, boyfriends and breakups. “Earth to Caroline.”

“Almost finished.”

“Care, you’ve proof read your thesis outline a thousand times. I’m sure it is perfect.” Caroline turned to glare at her best friend. This was the thesis for her master’s degree, it had to be more than perfect. There could be not even the hint of a flaw, especially if it would help her get into Duke’s doctoral program for art history. “Besides, if you don’t go now, you’ll be late for class.”

Caroline looked at the clock on her phone and jumped up.

“Shit! Bonnie! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” She hissed out as she put the pair of small black go-to boots on her feet. She quickly pulled her hair back into a messy bun. Her jeans and tank-top would have to do. She grabbed a matching black hoodie in case the lecture hall was cold and seeing that Caroline thought seventy-degree weather was freezing, she knew it would be. That and it was common practice for people to keep their words covered and Caroline had no time to search for her arm band.

“I tried but you were in that ‘Caroline study trance’ you get when you’re super focused, it took a minute to get your attention.” Bonnie said, watching her friend rush around in amusement. “I am covering Professor Fleming’s class today and need to leave so I figured I’d pull you from it now before you miss class completely. I’ve heard how Dr. Mikaelson is about attendance.”

“Not only that but he runs the doctoral program. I cannot be late for this class.” Dr. Niklaus Mikaelson’s classes were hard to get into. Caroline never managed it during her under grad and now that she was in her second to last semester before completing her master’s, she was finally able to land one of his classes. “I need him to like me.”

“It’s because he is hot? Isn’t it?”

“Bonnie!”

“What? He is. And that accent…”

Dr. Mikaelson was a prodigy in the art world. Caroline did an extensive google search of him when she was deciding if she wanted to pursue her masters at Duke or move onto another university. It was his work that kept Caroline there. He graduated secondary school by the age of fifteen and got a full ride to Oxford-completing his bachelors degree in just under two years. From there he achieved a masters and doctoral degree before moving to work at the Louvre all by the age of twenty-seven. The last few years saw him teaching at Duke and taking over the entire art history department in the process; and he was only thirty-three.

“His attractiveness is not what I need him for.” Caroline stated as she ran down the hall of the apartment. “Dinner later?”

“I have papers to grade. Remember? Joys of being a TA.”

“Right. See you tomorrow then. Bye!” Caroline replied as she grabbed her bag and left the apartment. She all but frantically drove towards the campus. Once parked she had to run towards the lecture hall and she made in it enough time to take her seat before the Professor strolled in and began his lecture. He opened a PowerPoint that showed a famous painting of ballerinas dancing on a stage, appearing as though they were in the middle of preparing for a performance.

“Edgar Degas. He is claimed to be one of the founding fathers of impressionism. However, as many of you know it is claimed that he hated that title. He preferred to be called a realist.” Dr. Mikaelson pointed to the painting on the screen. “Ballet Rehearsal on Stage is a prime example of his reasoning. The painting does not follow the typical style of impressionism painting. It lacks the color and the technique used is far different. It is far darker…”

Caroline leaned forward, engaged in his voice. There was something comforting in how he spoke, and it was not just the English accent. She could see the passion he had for the art he taught and his love for the painting. While his biography on the school website and what she found through her various digging, there was little to go on about his personal life. While Caroline agreed with Bonnie that the man was very attractive, Caroline was more interested in his work and how it could possibly help her get her foot in the right direction. It was only the second week of classes but Caroline knew she needed to make an impression sooner rather than later if she was going to get into the doctoral program next year.

He went on and on about impressionism, Degas and those ballerinas on the screen. Caroline took notes, switching from highlighter to highlighter and using her post-it note system that used to drive Bonnie insane. She jotted down her questions, points and theories she might need for a paper later on in the semester. She was tempted to click at her pen but knew, after years of dirty looks, that most would not appreciate such an action in the middle of a class.

“It is said that Degas fascination with painting the ballerinas were because he viewed that as the perfect example of the human condition. Towards the end of his life he made comments about the limbs of the dancers and how they moved. How they became one with the music and that is what he was trying to capture.” Dr. Mikaelson leaned against the desk and looked at this class. “Now, most of you are at the point in your studies where you have developed you own opinions on an artist work and what is art without interpretation? Any thoughts?”

Caroline among a few other students raised their hands. Dr. Mikaelson chose a young girl by the name of April that Caroline recognized from a couple classes she had with her previously. April, while bright, always seemed a bit shy.

“I always thought that the ballerinas were beautiful but in an artificial way. That they showed what the ideal beauty was during the late 19th century in France.” April smiled. “Kind of like in today's society, we are bombarded with what we should look like. The dancer always reminded me of that ideal.”

“It is true that young woman during that time were pressed to act in a certain way.” He replied, pointing at the screen again. “Dancers especially were encouraged to dance not for themselves but for the pleasure of men. It was not uncommon for the dancers to become lovers of wealthy gentleman and they did so in order to keep their place in the ballet before they came to an age that was deemed no longer desirable for the ballet. While Degas was a talented painter, he was also a man. Perhaps he painted the ballerinas for the simple fact that he admired their beauty.” He looked around and saw the students writing. “Anyone else?”

Caroline raised her hand again and this time, Dr. Mikaelson pointed to her. While she had attended every class they had thus far, which was only three since it was only the second week of classes, this was the first time he picked her. She admired how he tried to choose a different student every class and how he liked to keep the students engaged in the lesson.

“Honestly? There is something eerie about it.” She saw him freeze but Caroline pressed on. “The use of the shading and the dark colors make me feel as though he was always on the outside looking in. Like, his obsession with the dancers was far darker than we realize. He was a grown man who watched young girls dance and painted pictures of them. It is kind off-putting once you think about it. Almost predatory.”

Dr. Mikaelson did not move. He was looking at her as though he had seen a ghost of a long lost loved one. She was not the only one who seemed to have notice his hesitation but quickly enough, he seemed to shake himself of his thoughts.

“That certainly is an interesting perspective and not uncommon.”

And then, she felt it. She felt the slight burn on her left forearm. Her eyes grew wide and she felt as though she could not breathe. Dr. Mikaelson turned away from her and called on another student but Caroline could not look away from him. She did not understand how he was able to go on teaching when both their lives were just turned upside down. Everything changed and yet not a single person in that class realized what just happened.

He listened as one student droned on and on about Degas, and in truth, Caroline could not even focus on what was being discussed. She just watched as he moved around the podium that was perched in the front of the class. She noticed how his fingers seemed to trace over something and then his eyes searched the class again. He was looking at the seating chart they filled out on the first day.

He was looking for her name.

“All valid opinions, then again. Are not most opinions valid? Well, almost all.” He stated, cutting the student off. There was a slight chuckle echoing through the class. “We can all agree that there are many different interpretations of Degas’s work and that brings us to the major assignment of this class. If you read the syllabus, which I am sure you have, you know that you each will be required to pick an artist and study their style of painting, sculpting or whatever their choice of expression was. I want more than a biography and a regurgitation on their methods. I want your opinion. I want to know what your honest opinion of their work. I want to know how it makes you feel and what you believe drove the artist. Dig deep inside and find that inner artist yourself. Basically, I want you to woo me.” That caused another round of chuckles and Caroline could not help but notice how his eyes flickered to me. “The paper is to be submitted a week before the end of the semester. For further instructions, look at the syllabus or contact me during office hours. Dismissed.”

The students around her began to gather their belongings but Caroline was unsure on what to do next. Did she gather her textbooks and hurry of the lecture hall? Did she hang around trying to get a word? She noticed that if she did not move soon, she would be left sitting there and that would just be odd, so she began to gather her things and walk down the steps. She looked down and noticed that he was speaking with April and by her flushed cheeks, it was obvious that April had a crush. Caroline could not explain the rush of possessiveness she felt but she did not like the idea of anyone else having feelings for her soulmate.

“Ms. Forbes?” Caroline paused at the bottom the steps near the front row of the class, he had been watching her; waiting for her. “May I have a word?”

“Of course.” Caroline replied and waited as April walked past them, giving Caroline a small wave as she went. Caroline, however, was only able to give her a tight smile. Once the smaller woman was out of the room, Caroline felt as though all the air was sucked out with her. “Dr. Mikaelson.”

“Klaus.”

“What?”

“Call me Klaus. I believe you have the right to do that.” Dr. Mikaelson, Klaus, was smirking at her. He was gazing at her in a way that made her feel as though she was being studied; paying attention to her as he would one of Degas’s paintings.

“Klaus. Right. Short for Niklaus.”

“It is.” He moved his right arm over to his left and began unclasping the cuff-link. He rolled the sleeve of his white button-down dress shirt to reveal his forearm. There upon his skin were her words written in black ink…. spanning down a good portion of his arm. Caroline felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment but he only seemed amused. “I wondered for a long time about the woman who would have such an opinion on grown men drawing pictures of dancers. I never expected her to be in one my classes. Or about Degas.”

“You know, I wanted nothing more last year than to be in one of your classes but they were always filled. I never expected you to be my soulmate. In fact, I never expected to find my soulmate at all. And yet here you are, someone whose work I admire and had hoped to pursue my doctorate under…and oh my god.”

“Caroline?”

“You run the doctoral program here for the art department.” Caroline began to feel her chest contract and her breathing to become uneven. “I’ll have to leave this class; I won’t be able to pursue my degree here. It’s too late to transfer now. I am set to get my masters next semester!” She started pacing back and forth, feeling as though everything was crumbling around her. “Everything I worked for will go out the window.”

Klaus slowly made his way towards her, as though he was approaching a lion who was about to strike. He placed his hands on her shoulders and despite the hooded sweatshirt she wore, she could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric.

“Caroline, look at me.” Her breathing was still going rapid but she followed his direction. “You will not have to give up your dreams. I will not allow you to give up now, okay?” Caroline nodded. “Now breath. Slowly. In and out.” It took a few minutes but she began to feel herself calm down. Klaus drew small circles on her the sides of her arms and she focused on that feeling his touch invoked. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Klaus paused before speaking again. “Do those happen often?” She looked at him confused. “The panic attacks?”

“What? No. Sorry.” Caroline replied, blushing bright red again. “I’m so embarrassed. I was just so nervous and then realizing that this would be a major issue if I continued studying here. I mean, you’re my soulmate. If that isn’t crossing that line.” Klaus just started to laugh at her lightly. “Oh, come on! You know what line I’m talking about. You know the cheesy stereotype of the professor getting involved with his student!” At this point Klaus was full on laughing at her and despite the panic attack she had earlier, hearing his laughter calmed her frayed nerves. “I’m serious! This is serious! And you’re laughing! And I’m rambling on and on…. ugh, I do that when I’m nervous. Clearly.”

“Good to know.” Klaus was still smiling at her while Caroline found it hard to look at him without embarrassment coursing through her. “I won’t lie to you and say that there will not be road blocks in our path. I am your teacher, that is true and it is most definitely something we have to consider. However,” Klaus reached down and picked up her left hand. He pushed up the sleeve of her sweatshirt to reveal his words on her skin “finding one soulmate is rare. I spent the majority of my life curious as to who you would be. I’m not about to let that chance go now.”

The feel of his skin connecting with hers sent chills shooting through her entire body. Their eyes locked and she lost herself in the bight blue orbs. She could see excitement, uncertainty and vulnerability coursing through them. Caroline found herself wanting nothing more than to crawl inside of him. The feeling of his touch went beyond anything sexual, although the attraction was there, but it was more intimate than anything she experienced before.

“I don’t think I could let go now if I tried.” Caroline whispered and Klaus smiled widely. His smile was breathtaking and Caroline though it was unfair how beautiful he was. His dimples along made her heart flutter. She had always thought he was attractive but she was so focused on his work that she never bothered to think about the man behind the work.

And now she could think of nothing else.

Klaus dropped her wrist when other students began filing in. He went to the desk, unplugged his laptop from the USB cord and closed it, not bothering to turn it off first. He picked up his briefcase, shoving the laptop inside and motion toward the door. The next class would be starting soon and neither one of them needed an audience. They left the lecture hall together but Caroline noticed that he was keeping a respectable distance. She was unsure if she should be grateful or hurt. She knew that even though everything changed for them, the world still spun around the sun and he was still her teacher. The rules did not end with her life taking a drastic but joyful turn.

“Have dinner with me. Tonight.” Klaus stated. He paused in the middle of the courtyard just outside the lecture hall, not caring that it was a Tuesday afternoon or that they both had places to be the next day. He turned to look at her with a warm smile. “I would say let us just take the afternoon to know one another but I unfortunately have another class; and as you pointed out, I head of the doctoral program and have students to advise.”

“Okay.” Caroline nodded. While she was disappointed that she had to say goodbye, she was partly relieved. She realized, as the North Carolina sun beat down on her that she met her soulmate in an over sized sweatshirt, jeans and had her hair thrown up in a messy bun. She looked like the typically college student and that was embarrassing. “I don’t have plans tonight, unless you count obsessively studying and working on my thesis. Which, I honestly feel is coming along great but it more difficult than I anticipated. Not that I thought it would be easy, and you’re laughing at me again.”

Klaus couldn’t help himself but smile and shake his head.

“You’re rambling.” His tone was soft and full of affection, which made her only laugh alongside him. “You have no reason to be nervous with me. I promise.”

“Okay. Right. Dinner.” Caroline pulled a notebook out of her bag and ripped a piece of paper out of it. She grabbed her pen and jotted down her phone number and address. “Here is my address. Pick me up at seven. I love pizza and all things Italian. The spicier the food, the better.”

“Good to know.” Klaus smiled that devastating smile again, making Caroline’s skin heat up. She swore it was from the sun; not his stupid smile. She could see that he wanted to lean in and kiss her or simply touch her again; but in the middle of Duke’s courtyard was not the time or place. “I’ll see you tonight Caroline.”

With that, Klaus turned from her and Caroline watched him stroll across campus. There was something pleasing about the way he walked. It took her a moment but she noticed that the sleeve of his button-down was still rolled up to his elbow; letting the words out for the world to see. She couldn’t explain it but Caroline felt proud that those where her words on his skin.

Realizing that she was standing in the middle of a college campus, ogling her professor (who happened to be her soulmate), Caroline pulled herself from her stupor and moved off into the opposite direction. She had another class in about thirty minutes but she knew that she was not going to be able to focus for the rest of the day. While she was not typically one to blow off her classes, she would make an exception just this once and ensure that she studied extra hard over the weekend to make up for it.

As she walked to her car, Caroline dug out her phone and dialed Bonnie. She knew that Bonnie’s class that she taught for Professor Fleming sometimes would be over and that she most likely was in her office; either meeting with a student or grading Fleming’s papers. While Bonnie enjoyed being a TA, Professor Fleming had a tendency to push all her work on her TA’s. It as free labor and Isobel Fleming certainly took advantage of that.

“Come on Bonnie. Pick up.” It rang a few times before clicking to voicemail. Caroline huffed in frustration as she heard her best friend’s voicemail kick on. “Call me immediately. I have a friend emergency. Like life changing emergency.”

It wasn’t until Caroline was home and staring at her closet in abject horror; realizing that she had nothing to wear that screamed, you won’t regret being my soulmate, that Bonnie’s name flashed up on Caroline’s phone.

“Thank god Bonnie. I need you.”

“Sorry. I was helping a student. A completely useless student but a student nonetheless. I totally get why Fleming hates actually doing her office hours.” Bonnie stated. “What’s up?” “I met my soulmate.”

“What?! Seriously! Oh god that’s….Caroline!”

“I know!” Caroline screeched his excitement. “We’re doing dinner tonight and I literally have nothing to wear. I met him in that black hoodie I wear pretty much to hide my bloating during my period. It was embarrassing and I need something spectacular. Please, help me.”

“Hold on.” She heard a rustle and Bonnie speaking in the background to someone. Caroline, in the meantime, picked up a red dress that she wore for special occasions that she was sure she was going to get laid, but decided that it was a bit much for a first date. Maybe the second date. “Okay, Luka is going to take Fleming’s evening class and I’ll grade my papers at home after you leave. Now, you go shower, shave and do all of that. I’ll meet you at home in about thirty minutes to help you get ready.” Caroline smiled widely and expressed her thanks. “What time is he picking you up?”

“Seven.”

“Okay. That gives us four hours to make you look drop dead hot. Now go shower, I’ll be there soon.” Bonnie hung up and Caroline plugged her phone in by the bed before running to the shower. She turned on the shower and took a good look at her legs. She winced slightly at the neglect and grabbed a brand-new razor. By the time she was done in the shower and had herself wrapped in nothing more than a robe with a towel on her head, Bonnie was in her bedroom throwing her entire closet around the room. “Your phone has a message. Unknown number…”

Caroline dived for her phone and pulled it off the charger. She gave a smile as she read the message.

[Klaus][3:42 pm]:I made reservation s at La Rustica. Fire roasted pizza?

[Caroline][4:03 pm]: That sounds perfect.

[Caroline][4:03 pm]: I can’t wait.

[Klaus][4:04 pm]: Me either. I’m having trouble focusing in class. And I’m the teacher. Pretty sure my students are starting to notice.

[Caroline][4:04 pm]: Off your game?

[Klaus][4:05 pm]: I have them watching a documentary on ancient cave paintings from the bronze era. A move I typically use for my into to art classes. Not my doctoral ones.

[Caroline][4:05 pm]: So they are bored. Got it.

[Klaus][4:05 pm]: Very.

[Klaus][4:05 pm]: That and a certain soulmate has me smiling like an idiot. Its drawing a lot of attention.

[Caroline][4:06 pm]: Blaming me for your inability to focus in class?

[Klaus][4:06 pm]: Of course.

[Caroline][4:06 pm]: Well, don’t blame me. Go teach. Use that big brain of yours because I have a date to get ready for and SOMEONE is distracting me.

[Klaus][4:07 pm]: I suppose I can focus on my students instead of you. But trust me, you’ll have all my attention later.

[Caroline][4:07 pm]: I better.

“So, I just wanted your facial expressions for the last three minutes and I have to say, it was a roller-coaster ride. Wish I had popcorn.” Bonnie replied and Caroline stuck her tongue out at her. She tossed the phone on the bed and sat down on it. Bonnie went over to her manicure kit that Caroline assumed she grabbed from her room. “Here, pick a color to pain your nails. We can build an outfit around that.”

“I’m thinking blue. Matches my eyes. Oh, and we are going to La Rustica so, nice but causal.”

“Good starting place. Now spill.”

“What?”

“Details. I want them. Now.” Bonnie cocked her head at Caroline. “I just watched you have a conversation with who I’m guessing is your future father of your children and I’ve never seen you smile like that. Ever, so, details please.”

“You’re never going to believe it.” Caroline sighed and told her everything from the moment she sat down in class to Klaus inviting her to dinner afterwards. “I always knew hearing him speak that there was just something about him. At first, I figured it was the accent. I mean hot British professor. Come on, even you said he was hot. But the moment he spoke the words.”

That certainly is an interesting perspective and not uncommon.

“You’re happy.” Bonnie looked as though she was about to melt. Caroline nodded. Bonnie did the most un-Bonnie like thing, Caroline had ever witness from her. She squealed. Loudly. “I’m so happy for you. And incredibly jealous.”

“Thank you!” Caroline laughed.

“I mean it. After everything you told me about douche bag Damon and watching your awful relationship with Tyler…” “Hey! My relationship with Tyler was just fine!”

“Care, you never spent any time together and that is probably why it lasted two years. Every time you guys were together, you fought. Trust me, that break up was a mercy for everyone.” Bonnie looked at her seriously. “But now you met your soulmate. Literally, you probably are the only person I know who has met them and frankly, screw you I’m jealous.”

“Give it time Bonnie. Maybe you’ll be next.”

“Caroline, the words on my wrist literally say Pardon me darling, but I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My soulmate sounds a drunk frat boy picking up girls at a frat party.” Bonnie replied and Caroline gave a snort. “But enough about me, let’s get you looking beautiful so he forgets that you wore your period sweater when you first met.”

Over the next three hours, Caroline painted her nails a baby blue color, had Bonnie dry and style her hair into waves. She applied some light makeup, preferring something more natural looking, while Bonnie continued to root through the closet to fine the perfect outfit. Caroline kept anxiously looking at the clock, watching as the time slowly ticked by and she couldn’t help but fidget.

“What about this?” Bonnie asked, pulling out a nice white lacy tank-top and paired it with a blue cardigan she typically wore to summer weddings. “Add jeans and wedges. You’d look good.”

“Ehh…”

“Wait. I think I have an idea.” Bonnie rooted through her clothes, Caroline wincing at the fact that her color coordinated system was ruined, and pulled out a pair of simple skinny jeans, matched it with the lacy tank-top and slipped Caroline’s favorite pink leather jacket over top. “Cute, casual, but will have him eating out of your hands.”

“I do have those pink stilettos that match that jacket perfectly.” Caroline mused. “I like it.”

“And this.” Bonnie pulled out a large white purse that Caroline rarely ever used for fear of it getting dirty. “Slip a pair of flats in there as well as a top and a change of underwear. You’re all set.” Caroline narrowed her eyes at her. “What? I’m just saying that I don’t plan on waiting up for you. It will make it easier to leave for class tomorrow if you don’t have to swing by here first.”

“I don’t know if that is going to happen. We might want to take it slow. I don’t know.”

“Caroline. You shaved. I know you. You’re planning on it.” Bonnie replied in a matter of fact voice. “Which means, you need to pick something to wear under your clothes. I suggest a strapless bra.” Caroline rolled her eyes, not willing to let Bonnie know she had a point. She got up and went to her dresser, searching through her underwear drawer. She had a few pieces that had not seen the light of day in a while and tonight did give her a very good excuse to wear them.

And she wanted to see Klaus’s eyes bulge out.

Bonnie stepped out and let Caroline get dressed. She pulled on a matching baby-blue bra and pantie set before slipping on the skinny jeans. She looked at herself after she put on the lacy white tank-top, just to ensure that it wasn’t see-through. There was a slight peak of the blue bra at the top but it did not look trashy. One would have to be really looking to see it and she wanted Klaus to look.

It was decided. She was going to do something that she never thought herself capable of.

Caroline Forbes was going to fuck her professor.

When she was getting her purse ready, with all of Bonnie’s suggestions and a few extra needed items, Caroline heard the slight knock on the apartment door. She glanced at her phone and noticed that he was exactly five minutes early. Her lips perked up and she knew that they most definitely were made for each other. Caroline hated being late. She heard Bonnie yell that she would answer the door while Caroline quickly added a few more items to her bag.

“So, you’re the soulmate huh?” Caroline heard Bonnie’s voice, before Klaus could reply, Bonnie pushed on. “I’m Bonnie Bennet, the best friend and person who will cut off your dick if you hurt her. Got it?”

“Bonnie!” Caroline screeched as she came around the corner. She paused when she saw Klaus standing there, torn between amusement and concern. He was dressed down compared to class earlier. He had on a pair of fitted jeans, a grey Henley and a black jacket. That feeling she felt when he first said the words on her wrists returned. Her heart stopped for a moment and she couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’m going to go grade papers now.” Bonnie stated as she looked between the two of them. She moved towards Caroline and smiled. She wiggled her eyebrows at Caroline which made her nervousness fade slightly. “Have fun.”

“Bye Bonnie.” Caroline laughed at Bonnie before gripping her purse and walking forwards the door. “Sorry about her. She is my best friend and means absolute every word she said to you. So, you’re forewarned.”

“Noted.” Klaus teased. “Shall we?”

Caroline nodded and the both headed out the door. Unlike their walk across the campus, Klaus did not keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t indecent but he did touch her just ever so slightly. As they walked out to his car, he put his hand on the small of her back. As he drove, his left hand stayed on the wheel while his right held hers. It wasn’t until they pulled up to the little pizzeria that Caroline realized she had been drawing little circles with her thumb the entire way there.

“So, did your students find class any more interesting? Did they become engaged in Neanderthal art?” Caroline teased as they walked towards the door. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together again. At the skin on skin contact, Klaus couldn’t help but smile.

“Not in the slightest.” Caroline laughed. “This is a small class, with about five students total and they all know one another. I think they were all more interest in the fact that I was texting in class than actually teaching.” Klaus opened the door for Caroline, which just earned him bonus points, and looked toward the hostess. “Reservation under Mikaelson.”

The small pizzeria was upscale but didn’t feel as though it was intimidating. The walls were made of brick and there were fairy lights drifting from one side to the other; giving the space a romantic glow. As they walked to their table, Caroline could see wine racks lining the walls that had different types of wine. The tables had a modern rustic look to them that fit in with the cozy romantic feeling the pizzeria was trying to achieve. The hostess led them to a table in the back that would let them be undisturbed but not completely out of view.

“Now, I don’t think that’s fair!” Caroline replied. “We were only texting for about five minutes tops. For all they knew, you could have been texting your mother.”

“If I was texting my mother, trust me when I say that my facial features would be one of annoyance not the, what did young Joshua say to me, ‘love-struck’ expression my face held.”

“No! Seriously? A student said this to you?”

“Small class, Sweetheart.” The waitress approached their table. “Do you prefer white or red wine?”

“White.”

“A bottle of Pinot Grigio, please.” The waitress wrote down the order and left. “Like I was saying, small class and I’ve gotten to know them all fairly well over the last few semesters. Most of them have been my students since they were in their working on their masters. Only a one or two were transplants from other universities. Joshua is a bit braver than the others. He had no problem teasing me for, what the term, ah yea, ‘sleeping on the job’.”

“The gall!” She laughed. “I mean to be honest, you did better than I did. I skipped my next class and if you see Professor Saltzman, feel free to take all responsibility.” Klaus laughed at that. “I’m serious. First class I’ve missed in about ever. Last year, I had that nasty stomach flu and I still showed up to class.”

“I admire your dedication.” He reached across the table and took her hand. Klaus flipped her hand over and began tracing his words on her wrist. Their eyes locked and Caroline could hardly breath at just feeling his fingertip tracing the black ink. It wasn’t until the waitress came back to pour their wine that he removed his hands. “So, tell me, if pizza is one of your favorites, what kind? Let me guess, pineapple?”

“No, but I fully believe that there is nothing wrong with pineapple on pizza.”

“We will have to agree to disagree on that, love.”

“While there is nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned Hawaiian pizza, I can’t help but enjoy the classics.” Caroline looked to the waitress, who wore a soft smile and looked down at Caroline’s uncovered wrists, (knowing fully well that these two were soulmates). “We will take a classic margarita pizza please.”

“I admire a woman who takes charge.” Klaus replied, wearing a smirk. Caroline bit her lip as her mind went a very dirty place that she should be ashamed of. However, by the look Klaus was tossing her way; she could tell that his mind had followed the same path. Gone was the professor who was so engaging in art and the history behind it and was replaced by a man who by the intense stare she was getting, was very passionate.

“Get used to it.”

“I plan to.” The dimpled smirk was back and that did nothing for Caroline’s resolve. What she wanted to do was drag him from the restaurant and screw him in his car but the more rational part of her brain wanted to at least know him just a bit better first. Caroline cleared her throat and pushed a blonde lock behind her ear.

“So…from your comment, I know you have a mom but any other family?” Caroline asked. “Because I googled you. Hard. Beyond stating that you are from London and are practically a genius, it didn’t say much about your personal life.”

“Trying to find out if a girlfriend?”

“No! Wait? Do you? Because that would make this really awkward. Like, what happens if soulmates meet and the other person is like, married or something!” Caroline’s eyes grew wide. “Oh god! You’re not married, are you? Because I’m not. Very single…...very very single.”

“No, love. I’m perfectly unmarried and single, or at least I was until this morning.” Klaus laughed, finding her ramblings refreshing and adorable. “Let’s see where to start. You obviously know about my professional career and yes, I do like to keep my private life…private.” He gave her a heated look again that caused her skin to flush, something he clearly enjoyed doing to her. “Yes. I have a mother but we are not particularly close, distance and all that. I speak to my father maybe once or twice a year. I am one of seven children-”

“Your mom had seven children?” Caroline breathed out, eyes growing wide. That was a lot of siblings. She chose not to comment on his relationship with his parents, figuring he would open about that as their relationship grew. “Wow.”

“Yes. My eldest sister Freya, is a doctor in New York. Neurosurgeon actually. My brother Finn is also a doctor but has a small practice in Oxfordshire, England where he lives with his wife Sage and their five children; who I am perfectly comfortable being the uncle who just sends gifts in the mail.” That made Caroline chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong love, I like kids but my brother’s children are a nightmare.”

“Good to know.” They exchanged a look, an unspoken understanding passed. One day, they would have kids. “Were they soulmates?”

“Finn and Sage? No but they were childhood sweethearts.” Caroline nodded. Soulmates were rare and she realized how lucky she was to have found hers. “Then there is Elijah, he is a dean of a boarding school for spoiled little rich kids in England, although he makes a significant number of trips to the States. Not sure if it is the students or close proximity to our mother.”

“I take it your mother is a character?”

“Harsh and cold would sum it up. You know, typical English upper-class woman. Part of the reason why I pushed myself to graduate secondary school at such a young age.” Klaus replied, brushing past the description of his mother. “Then there is me. Fourth and typical middle child.” Caroline laughed at that. “Then there is Kol. At twenty he picked a random city out of a hat, ran off New Orleans with his college fund and opened a bar…well a year later he opened one when he realized that the drinking age was twenty-one here. He doesn’t get out of bed until well after twelve in the afternoon, just in time to kick his latest conquest out of bed.”

“So, the rebellious child?” Despite his unflattering description of his younger brother, Caroline could hear a hint of affection and exasperation at him. While he seemed distant from his parents, she could sense that the siblings where all close. “And here I thought the Mikaelson clan bred only geniuses. We have two doctors, a dean of a boarding school, a prodigy professor and then a bar owner…what happened there?”

“A question we have all asked at one point or another. My parents were very disappointed, which only made Kol even more pleased. He’s an odd one.” Klaus smiled. “And then there is Rebekah.”

“Uh oh. Let me guess. Spoiled little sister?”

“Very.” Klaus shook his head. “Freya is a lot like our mother in a way. Cold and hard but she has a work ethic that I applaud. She rarely has a social life but is very dedicated to her patients and her field, while Rebekah has not worked for a single thing in her entire life. She was supposed to be the last child so our parents doted on her. She lives primarily off of her trust fund and spends most of her time on some yacht of her boyfriend of the moment; before showing up at one our houses. Unexpectedly of course.”

“She sounds…”

“She is a complete brat but I love her. One day maybe she will settle but lord knows we all have tried to tame her.”

“And your youngest sibling?” Klaus froze slightly, a small shadow passed over his eyes but then after a second, he gave a small smile. Before he could speak, their waitress was back with their pizza and some plates. It wasn’t until the each grabbed their own slices that Caroline had the courage to press forward. “Are you okay? If you don’t want to-“

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Henrik was the youngest and unexpected baby of the family. After Rebekah, my parents did not want anymore children. Six kids were enough but Henrik came along and made everything better, if that makes sense. He was shy and funny and loved to laugh. He was genially a good soul.”

“What happened to him?” Caroline did not miss how he used the past-tense when he spoke of his youngest brother. She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. Klaus ran his thumb over her knuckles and she could tell that her touch brought him comfort.

“I was working at the Louvre at the time. Henrik was supposed to come and spend the summer with me that year. He was seventeen and like I said, he had a heart of gold. A friend of his had gone to a party and had one too many and was too scared to call his parents. Both my parents were working that night and the only other person home was Rebekah. So, he left alone and went to pick his friend up. Two other kids from the same party did not call a ride and left, they both were heavily intoxicated. Ended up running my brother off the road. Henrik and is friend died instantly.”

“I’m so sorry.” Caroline had tears streaming down her face. She did not know what to say other than that. She could tell that Klaus felt the loss of his little brother deeply. She wished that she could take that pain away but knew nothing she said would make it better. Klaus leaned forward and wiped away the small tears from her cheeks.

“I don’t like seeing you cry.” That made her smile instead. “It was six years ago. Yes, it hurts but I’m to the point where I can remember him fondly.” With that he pulled away and picked up his pizza, something Caroline completely forgot they had. She followed suit but her mind still on Klaus’s brother. “What about you, any siblings I should know about?”

“Nope. Just little old. My mom often tells me that I broke the mold and she couldn’t handle another one of me.” Klaus burst out laughing, drawing attention from a few other people in the pizzeria. “Shh.” Caroline turned to a few other patrons and mouthed her apologizes.

“I may have only known you for a few hours but I think your mother is right. You seem like a handful.” Klaus teased her and tossed her an innocent expression yet his eyes had mischief written all over them.

“Maybe. Are you up to the challenge?”

“Most certainly.” Klaus lifted his glass of wine to his lips and Caroline couldn’t help but lick her lips as his tongue peaked out eve so slightly. He gave her that look that sent heat straight to her core; and by how he was eyeing her; Caroline could tell that she was having the same effect on him. “I find it very unfair that you were able to google me and all I could find was your college transcripts in your student file.”

“You read my file?!”

“What else was I supposed to do during a documentary about Neanderthal cave drawings?”

“I don’t know? Teach?”

“I learned a good bit of interesting facts about you.” With that, Klaus pulled out his phone and began to scroll. “Let’s see, shall we. You were Miss Mystic Falls your junior year of high school, which I had to look up by the way because I’ve never heard of it. Small town Virginia, looks charming. You were the chair of the Mystic Falls beautification committee and the director of the policeman’s yearly raffle.” Klaus shot her a coy look. “On top of maintaining a 4.0 GPA average in high school. Very impressive. My favorite part, of course, was your essay. ‘When I am accepted,’ really liking the use of ‘when’ here, very confidant, ‘I intend to redefine excellence and above all, I promise to aspire, inspire and perspire…obviously we ran out of words shortage of words ending in ‘spire’.”

“Oh god.” By this point, Caroline was covering her hands with her face. She was silently cursing herself at the moment, no matter how joyful Klaus seemed in that moment. It was clear that he was just waiting to bring that up. “Laugh it up. I can’t believe you found that. I almost wish you photo stalked my Facebook instead and found unflattering pictures of me.”

“Well, you just secured my plans for later.”

“Play your cards right and you might be too busy.” They shared another fiery look that spoke volumes. Caroline had to look away, focusing on her pizza and grabbing another slice before being able to peak at him. He was still watching her, clearly imagining what he was going to be doing to her later. “You’re staring. It’s creepy.”

“Is it?” They both knew the answer. Klaus leaned back in his chair, with his arms crossed; enjoying her flushed cheeks. “So, what was not on your college application and other academic transcripts?”

“Well…” Caroline thought of what to tell him. Frankly, compared to what she knew of him, there wasn’t much in her life that she found impressive about herself. “As you know, only child. Parents divorced when I was about fifteen. My dad turned to be gay and as I’m sure you can imagine how that strained the marriage.” Klaus nodded, his eyes widening slightly. “My dad and his partner Stephen live in Charlotte but I don’t see them often. My mom is the sheriff of Mystic Falls and very keen on teaching me to shoot a gun.”

“Sounds like Bonnie is not the only one I have to worry about?”

“Nope. My mother will most definitely get to you first.”

“I was talking about you Sweetheart. You seem like you can take care of yourself.” Caroline smiled at the hint of pride in his voice. “I wasn’t lying earlier Caroline. I like a woman who can take charge and care for herself.”

“Good.” Caroline chuckled. She took a sip of her wine and Klaus reached over for the bottle and poured her another glass. He was driving so he was sipping his glass slowly but there was no reason why she couldn’t indulge slightly. She trusted him. “So, you said Finn and Sage were not soulmates but did any of your siblings find theirs?”

“No.” Klaus shook his head. “Rebekah had this dream to find hers but…her words faded before she got the chance.” Caroline nodded. It was not uncommon that the words written on someone’s wrist to fade. It meant that their soulmate passed away in some fashion. “She was seemingly okay though. I had thought that she would be devastated but Rebekah bounced back and went on her merry way. Despite the fact that she is spoiled and bratty, she is a strong woman and I admire that about her.”

“Good for her. For bouncing back.” Caroline could tell that out of all of his siblings, he was closest to this wild child of a sister and Caroline wondered how the she would get on with her. Caroline vowed to do her best because she wanted this to work and could not imagine being on bad terms with Klaus’s family. “Sometimes, that is not the case.”

“You speak like you have experience in that?” Klaus asked lightly but Caroline looked down at her plate. She did not expect to get into this now. She did not expect to be revealing her deepest shame on the first date, over really good pizza to her professor. Yet, she trusted Klaus. She knew that he would never hurt her. “Caroline?”

She looked up to see him giving her a concerned look. She did not like that look on him. She wanted to see him happy, laughing and flirting as he had been all night. Their pizza was almost gone and the night would progress onward. Yet, this wasn’t just this night in play here. It was the rest of her life. Her entire outlook changed in the span of a few hours and no matter what happened, Klaus would be there. At least, she hoped he would be. Some things were never certain.

“I knew someone whose soulmate died.” Klaus nodded, not saying anything but was eyeing her with worry. She reached over the table and grabbed both his hands into hers. She needed contact with him. Even though she only knew him for a few short hours, she felt as though Klaus gave her strength. “I was sixteen. Rebelling hardcore. My parents were pretty much absent. Dad was with Stephen and mom threw herself into work. That is when I met him.” Klaus froze but gave her hands a comforting squeeze. She could see that his mind was going a mile a minute; thinking of the worst scenarios. “His name was Damon and he was about six years older than me. Bad boy. But if there was a bad boy within a five-mile radius, I would find him.”

“What happened?”

“At first, I thought he liked me. He was first in everything.” She gave him a significant look and Klaus understood her meaning. “I was young and stupid. He told me stories of his soulmate. Her name was Katherine and she died six months after they met. House fire. He never really got over it. He drank sometimes, he would either pretend that I was Katherine or just be mean…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Klaus..”

“Caroline, did he hurt you?” Klaus asked again. She could tell that he was trying to stay calm. He was imagining the worst ways a man could hurt a woman and Caroline began to panic. That wasn’t the case. While Damon was mean and controlling, he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t a good boyfriend but he never laid a hand on her.

“No! No. Nothing like that.” Caroline vowed and Klaus’s shoulder’s sagged in relief. “I’m sorry. This is coming out all wrong. Damon and I’s relationship was complicated. He was older and hurt and I was so young and naive. He prayed on my insecurities and made me feel worthless but he never laid a hand on me. In anyway. I promise. My mother would have killed him if he did. Although, honestly she didn’t know about the relationship until years after it took place.”

“Okay.” Klaus nodded. He let go of her hand briefly and picked up his wine glass. He took a long drink and sat it back down. Klaus looked at her and there was such conviction behind those bright blue eyes that she quickly began to adore. “I want you to listen to me. You’re not worthless. You are by far the most amazing person I have met. You’re fascinating, strong and so full of light. Even before our words were spoken, I noticed you were beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yes”. He laughed. “But I was your professor and you were my student. Like you said this afternoon, there is a distinct line that should not be crossed.”

“But one we are crossing?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Caroline bit her lip in understanding. Their hand where still connected and Caroline thought that if she let go, the moment would crumble and reality would set in. “You know, your transcripts were not the only thing I looked into this afternoon.”

“That documentary must have been really boring.” Klaus smiled.

“This was during my office hours actually.” Caroline just gave him a mock impressed look causing that dimpled, cheeky smile to appear. “I looked at my contract. There is, as you would imagine, a clause about professor and student relationships. Of course, it says that anyone in a position of authority should not have intimate relations with a student.” For a split second, Caroline looked forlorn but Klaus pressed on. “However, there was a sub-clause regarding soulmates. If a professor happens to find his or her soulmate in one of their students, the rules are…different.”

“Different how?” Caroline’s breath froze. Despite the overwhelming joy she felt at finding her soulmate and the fact that Klaus was everything she imagined him to be, part of her was still worried over how this would affect her academic career. She had worked hard to prove herself at Duke. She built a life and wanted to continue on this path she mapped out for herself. She didn’t want Klaus, who she already knew she would be unable to give up, stand in the way of that. Then of course, the last thing she wanted was for Klaus to be punished for having an inappropriate relationship with a student. Universities took those situations seriously and it was not unheard of that a professor would lose their job if he or she was found taking advantage of a student. She didn’t want that for Klaus.

“I can’t advise you on anything. I can’t grade your papers or if, for example, you were to pursue your doctorate at Duke, I can’t be apart of it. I would have to remove myself from the board who would oversee your research. You can continue with my course but with the understanding that I will not be the one who you go to with questions.” Caroline nodded. “I will have to report this to the Dean and there will be protocols to follow.”

“You haven’t already told him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see how this went.” Klaus admitted. “I wanted to see how dinner and tonight went first. It would be nearly impossible for me to give you up. After that brief encounter in my class this afternoon, I knew I wanted to be with you.” Klaus paused, searching her face before he spoke the next few words. “But if you wanted to wait until you finished with your doctorate, I would wait.”

“But that could take years!” Caroline looked at him with a slacked jaw. He would have waited for her. However long it took, he would have sat by while she completed her dreams. Even if it took her a decade, although, this was Caroline Forbes, it would not take her a decade, to complete her degree, he would have waited. “We need to go.”

“What?”

“Like right now. Check please.” Caroline raised her hand, trying to get the waitress’s attention. Klaus continued to question her but she ignored him. Her mind was made up. They needed to get out of this restaurant immediately. The waitress came over quickly and Caroline asked for the check. Klaus looked at her with a baffled expression. “Look, you just said you were willing to wait, I don’t know at minimum four years for me, which is a long ass time. You pretty much spelled out that you want me to complete my dreams. If anything is getting you laid. It’s that.”

“Oh.” Klaus was speechless. He did not know exactly how to respond to that but continued to look at her with amazement. “Yeah. Check please.”

The waitress came back quickly and before Caroline could protest, Klaus pulled out his card and handed it to the waitress. The look he shot her told her not to argue and accept it. No matter how much Caroline was an independent woman, the southern belle in her liked to see a gentleman pay for dinner. So, she allowed it.

There was a tension that sizzled between them. It was a low burn that they both could feel. Neither spoke but instead waited for the check to come. Caroline tapped her fingers on the table while Klaus swirled his wine in the glass. When the waitress finally appeared with the check; Klaus signed quickly and held out his hand for Caroline.

Eagerly she laced her fingers with his and he all but pulled her from the chair. Quickly, Caroline grabbed her purse and the two of them made their way out of the pizzeria. Their pace was quick but Klaus was mindful of the fact that Caroline was in stilettos; a fact that he learned from having a diva little sister. Their hands where still linked together as they walked towards Klaus’s car.

“Wait.” Caroline paused as Klaus was opening the passenger side door for her. He stopped and looked at her with questions in his eyes. He would only go forward if she was certain, he wanted no doubts on her part. “I just want you to know that I don’t do this. I don’t jump into bed with anyone on a first date. I like to get to know them. Make sure they are not going to bury me in their basement or wrap me up in their carpet to let my body decompose in the woods.” Klaus raised his eyebrow in question and a smirk playing on his lips. “My mom was a cop, okay?! I think of these things. The point is. We kind of just met…only not really because I’ve been in your course for like less than two week-“

Klaus stepped forward and latched his lips on to her. Caroline, once she got over her split-second shock, Caroline melted into the kiss. Klaus placed his hands on her hips and Caroline wrapped her arms around his shoulders. If she thought the mere holding of hands sent her into a tailspin, it was nothing compared to his lips upon hers. She could taste the wine on his lips mixed with his saliva. For a moment, she forgot they were in a parking lot or the fact that she just really met him. All she could think about was how good it felt to kiss him. When they broke apart, Klaus held her in his arms, his forehead pressed against hers.

“I know Caroline. I know that this isn’t the run of the mill for you because it isn’t for me either.” Klaus kissed her nose and Caroline laughed lightly. “To be honest, it has been awhile since my last relationship and awhile since anyone has been in my bed. I don’t sleep around and I want you to know, that from this point forward, it’s just going to be you. I can’t explain it. Maybe it is the soul mark or whatever deity was kind enough to let us meet, but I just want you.” Caroline kissed him again but it was light this time. A simple peck upon the lips to let him know she heard him. “Just…you. I want you. So, for all that is holy, please get in that car before we are arrested for, I don’t know, something indecent.”

“Okay.” Caroline nodded and Klaus opened the car door and ushered her inside. The drive itself went quickly despite the fact that she felt that Klaus was obeying way too many traffic laws for such an occasion. When he pulled into a drive of a small craftsman house, she couldn’t help but smile. Briefly she wondered if he had a roommate or if one of his many siblings were visiting. “Do you…live alone?”

“Completely.”

“Thank god.” She stepped out of the car and followed him up the porch steps. He fumbled with his keys before letting them inside his house. The lights were off so Caroline did not really have a chance to take in his decor and before she could comment, Klaus had her pinned to the door.

His lips were on hers the second she felt the wood of the door hit her back. His lips molded to hers and Caroline could not help but press her body into his. Klaus’s hands wandered down her body; touching each and every curve that he could find. Caroline weaved her hands through his hair, scraping his scalp with her nails as she went. Klaus hissed in pleasure.

Caroline pushed his black coat off his shoulders, hearing it hit the ground behind him. Klaus’s hands moved inside of her own leather jacket and soon enough, she felt it slip from her shoulders. She pushed off the door in order to allow Klaus to pull it from her completely. The moment it was gone from her shoulders, Caroline found herself pressed against the door again.

Their lips broke apart and Klaus started kissing his way down her neck. His hands moved up her body, cupping her breasts while Caroline arched into him. Her head tilted backwards against the door, allowing him access to her neck. The feel of his lips against her skin made Caroline shiver. Her foot moved up his leg until her entire leg was hooked around his hip.

Klaus thrusted against her; Caroline hissing at the feeling of his covered erection grinding into her core. They dry humped against Klaus’s front door while Caroline continued to dig her nails into his scalp. Klaus hissed when she pressed with slightly too much pressure.

“Do that again.” Klaus demanded and Caroline obliged, letting her nails drag through his hair. Klaus’s hands roamed upward, cupping her breast and running his thumbs over her nipples. Dissatisfied with the lack of skin showing, Klaus ripped her tank-top in two; tossing the scraps to the side.

“I liked that shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He kissed her again, his hands feeling her flat stomach. His fingertips dipped ever so slightly into the waist of her jeans. Caroline began pulling at his Henley, lifting it across his muscles. Klaus pulled away, rising his hands; allowing Caroline to pull it off of him. She tossed it somewhere into the dark house. She spied a tattoo etched into his shoulder blade. It was too dark for Caroline to really get a clear look of what the tattoo was but either way, she leaned down to place her lips against the design. “Caroline.”

Her name came out like a prayer. She looked up and locked eyes with him. The lust mixed something deeper was far too much for Caroline to process. Her hand slowly made its way up his chest, latching onto the silver chain that hung around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss set a new fire through Caroline. The slight contact of his flesh against hers was not enough.

“Your bed. I want in it.” Klaus bit gently at her bottom lip before pulling away completely. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the darken stairway. She stumbled slightly, not being able to see and they both chucked slightly. Klaus reached for a light switch at the top of the stairs and illuminated a hallway. At the top of the stairs, when she could see him clearly, Caroline reached for his left hand. She brought his wrist to her lips and kissed the long monologue that she knew he had read at least a thousand times.

Never before had she loved Degas so much.

“This way.” His voice was hoarse and filled with longing. His head tilted towards a room just shy of her left. Klaus pulled her down the hallway and into a darkened room. Instead of reaching for the light switch on the wall, he went to the bedside table and turned on the table lamp, dropping her hand as he went. He didn’t want the overhead light on, overpowering the feeling of the moment but he wanted to be able to see her.

Caroline, not being able to tear her eyes from him, reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It drooped slightly before she pulled it off completely, tossing it to some unknown part of the room. Klaus’s eyes lingered over her breasts and she could see him swallow in desire. Klaus stepped forward and reached out to touch her. His hand cupped her breasts, his thumb gracing over her nipple. She hissed at the contact. Not being able to take another second, Caroline pulled him to her, kissing him. She pressed her chest against his, feeling her erect nipples gracing his skin.

Once they broke apart, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him onto the bed. He sat down, just watching her every movement. Enjoying his eyes on her, Caroline kicked off her heels and began to unbutton her jeans. She pushed them down her legs and stepped out of them. Klaus reached out to grab her hips, feeling the lace of her blue panties in his hand.

Caroline placed one knee on the bed and lifted herself in order to straddle him. She sat on his lap and began to grind herself against him. She leaned in to kiss in on the lips before leaving a trail of caresses down his neck to his throat. She sucked on the spot where his neck met his shoulder, not caring if she left a mark. Let his students know he was taken; claimed only for her. She thrusted her hips down, pressing herself against him; the friction almost unbearable.

“I need you.” Klaus whispered as her teeth grazed his skin.

“I’m not stopping you. I’m all yours.” Not being able to handle being at her mercy a second longer, Klaus gripped her hips and flipped them. Caroline found herself underneath him, her legs spread and him grinding into her. It wasn’t enough. She reached down and unbuckled his belt before pushing the offending fabric down his legs. Klaus crawled off of her, something Caroline did not like in the slightest. “Hey! Come back.”

“Patents Sweetheart. I’ll be right here.” Klaus replied as Caroline propped herself up on her forearms. She tiled her head when she realized that he was taking off his jeans. Realizing her interest, he could not help but make a show out of it. Inch by inch, he dropped his jean and boxers; enjoying the feel of gaze on his skin. Biting her lip as she took in the sight of him. Her fingers traced a path over her pantie line as she gazed at his impressive erection. “Remove those panties love, they are in the way.”

Caroline did as she was told and lifted her hips, sliding her panties down her legs. Once they were at her ankle, she couldn’t help but kick them at him. Klaus caught them easily. He could feel the lace in his hand and the dampness from her arousal seeped into the fabric. He dropped them onto the ground before crawling between her outstretched legs. He reached towards his bedside table but Caroline grabbed his wrist.

“I have an IUD. No need for condoms.” Klaus smiled widely at that. He leaned down and kissed her. “I’m clean too. No need to worry about diseases. Completely not sexy. Diseases I mean.”

"No. Not at all.” Klaus leaned kissed her again. “No need to worry about that on my end.”

“Good.” Caroline reached down to grasp him in her hand. She stroked him slightly, enjoying how his eyes fluttered shut at the contact. She brought him close to her clit, coating his member her in arousal; moaning as she did so. The feeling of her clit pressed against his penis, Klaus’s eyes shot open and he gazed down at her. He reached down, their fingers brushing as he aligned himself with her entrance. “Please. I need you.”

Klaus slid into her, filling her as far as he could. The feel of connecting with one another was something neither was prepared for. It was more than fireworks going off behind one’s eyes as the stories foretold. It was more than coming home after a long day. It was the sense of belonging or finally understand the meaning to existence.

They were connected in a way neither expected. They just laid there together for a moment; adjusting. When it became to much for Klaus to bare, he slowly withdrew his hips and then thrusted forward. Caroline whimpers of pleasure encouraged him forward. His movements were slow at first but once they were able to develop a rhythm, his pace picked up.

“Harder. Oh god, please go harder.” Caroline cried out and Klaus obliged. His slammed into her as fast as he could. Caroline’s nails dug into his shoulders, scarping down his backs. The pain mixed with pleasure had Klaus crying out. He buried his head into her neck; his lips sucking at her neck. She had marked him earlier and he wanted nothing more than the imprint of his lips to mare her skin. “God yes! Klaus!”

The bed creaked under their weight. The headboard banged off the wall and the springs of the mattress whimpering in protest. Skin hit skin and the smell of sex lingered in the air. Their sweaty bodies continued to intertwine until Caroline’s walls clenched around Klaus’s member. Her orgasm shook her, and sent shock-waves down her body.

It wasn’t long before Klaus toppled over the edge; a few more thrusts and he was done for. He released himself inside her; his hips jerking forward as he came. Caroline leaned up and kissed his lips until he regained himself. His eyes slowly opened and Caroline smiled up at him. Seeing her happy expression peering at him made return the beam down on her.

Klaus pulled himself from her body and laid on his back, his heart still pumping as though he had run a race. It had been a long while since he had good sex; and sex with Caroline proved to be exceptional. The woman in question crawled up to align her body with his and rest her head on his chest. Klaus pulled her to him; his arms around her.

“Well damn.” Caroline muttered, not knowing what else to say. Klaus’s chest rumbled with laughter. He leaned down at kissed the top of her head in affection.

“No rambling monologue for me now? Pity. I do enjoy those.”

“How are you teasing me right now? My brain is mush! I have no comebacks! Be nice and wait until my brain is not in a sex induced fog.” Klaus couldn’t help himself. He started laughing and Caroline didn’t know if she should be insulted or join in on the laughter.

“Please, Sweetheart. Never stop scolding me or telling me off in your insane rambles. Your mind is a marvel and I cannot wait to hear what you say next.” Klaus stated, knowing full well that he liked how she often took him off guard. He could never predict what she was going to say next.

“Always…I think.” She leaned up to kiss his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather be stuck with.”

#klaroline fanfiction #kcauweek2020 #klaroline #caroline x klaus

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navyblushrose · 4 years

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An Appreciation Post

This time i wanna share about some public figures i admire to.

Honestly i’m a person who easily impressed, but it never stays long. When i watch a film or drama, and i’m impressed by the actor/actress, i would search their profile on google and stop by their social media. Usually that feeling of interest will diminish by the end of the film and as time goes by.

So far, i’m a fan of 2 person.

First, Taylor Swift.

I was a Swifty when i was in junior high school. I remembered that it was probably influenced by my 7th grade classmates (hi, Irta and Shafa haha). I turned to love her music, the lyrics are beautifully written, sometimes relatable. Maybe because TS wrote them based on experience in her life. Every awarding event that needs voting, i voted her through the website or twitter hashtags. Once there was an event held by Walls Cornett* ice cream, where we could redeem codes inside the ice cream packs with TS merchandises. With the limited money i had as a student, i managed to get 2 drawstring bags and i’m proud of it hahaha.

There was a time too when my friend (hi Irta) and i joined a competition for TS birthday project. We made a short stop motion video and won a t-shirt that said “13 SWIFT”. I duplicated the t-shirt in a convection just so we both could have it lol.

If you ask my favorite era among her albums... i think i can't decide one. I will choose Speak Now, RED, and 1989 as my favorites. Tbh i don’t really keeping a track on her since i entered my senior year in high school, but i love to see her giving us a surprise by releasing folklore album at this time of pandemic!

Now, let's go to the second person.

It seems like the pandemic changed our life in many different ways. For some of us, it means we go back to fangirl world or watch some drama again after a long hiatus. For me, i would never imagine that pandemic could make me adore an actor this much —Kim Dongwook.

The first time i saw him was in Along With The Gods : The Two Worlds (2017). The first thing i recognized special from him was his voice. Really, he has that deep voice i rarely heard from any actor. No wonder he got the news anchor role in Find Me in Your Memory. I was impressed by his voice and acting in AWTG as a haunting spirit lol. I searched his profile, but didn't follow his works afterwards.

And then suddenly in the early 2020, i got a news that he has a role in a melodrama, Find Me in Your Memory. I was curious to see his performance in a romance genre, and many people said that the chemistry is great, but i decided to watch it after the drama ended so i could do marathon.

Turned out.. His role as anchor-nim here really impressed me!!

I love this drama so much from the chemistry, side characters, cinematography, dialogues, soundtracks, until the behind the scenes. They gave the best fan service, from the real Yeo Hajin’s IG account that managed by Moon Gayoung herself, until the IG live they had during the drama on going. I lost count on how many times i recommend this drama (click here if you wanna read my review), promoting it like i get paid :(

Since then, i follow his news, watch the other projects of him (i really like The Guest too!), search his interviews including the old ones (eventhough i don't understand Korean haha), made a second twitter account just for spamming and finding friends who i can fangirl with (haha), save his pictures and drama clips to a specific folder in my gallery, joined his fancafe which is full of hangul (thanks to google translate!), and furthermost.... learn hangul, so i can a bit more understand the info they shared lol.

The things i look up from him—besides his charming smile and voice— are that he is a talented, down-to-earth, hardworking, and family-man actor. I'm judging from his answers in some interviews and award speech. He started from the bottom, his debut in 2004 with some minor roles and college student’s film. Then he grows and more people recognize him. He can act, sing, dance. And his personality... seems like he is someone who didn’t talk much when we just know him, but he is taking care of people around him. He sometimes throw jokes and that’s cute. He always mentions his family, his little sister, and how he never regret of his previous works (because some of them maybe shameful or bad).

I don't regret anything because that's my choice. It's okay if the result is not good enough as long as i have done my best. Of course, there's a shameful work too. But it means i've grown up enough so that i could tell that was a shameful work. Wouldn't i have to acknowledge my past so that i could acknowledge my future too?

— Kim Dongwook's Vogue Magazine March Edition interview (translated by @kimdwook on twitter)

And the only thing i don't like from him is... he doesn't have any social media :(

It's kinda sad that once i have an idol, he has no social media and rarely appear even on variety show. He is that kind of public figure who we can only see from his projects. But i'm a bit understand when i read his reason why he has no SNS this day is because he doesn't want to keep revealing himself and feel pressured by people's expectation toward him. Come to think of it, it's understandable, it's better to take care of ourself first. So, here i am digging and digging his old interviews and films :')

Unconsciously, i did many things that are unlike me since i decided to be his fan.

I won't regret it because one of the reason i can survive in this chaotic year is him. I'm not being cheesy, but if you ever admire someone or have an idol, you will understand. He gives a positive vibes and a motivation to learn something new, to have new friends, to work hard. And that just by getting his news is enough to lighten up my day.

#kim dong wook #taylor swift

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radiosteve · 4 years

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Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 21

Summary: You go back to London in hopes to repair your relationships with John and Roger.

Note: Only a few chapters left! As always, the italicized part is the reader’s thoughts. The photo is one that I

found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 3.5k+

November 22, 1974

By the time you finished packing it was nearly 10pm. You went downstairs, seeing your parents sitting anxiously on the couch. Your Mother’s leg bounced up and down rapidly as your Father’s glazed eyes stared past the muted television and on to the wall. Their heads snapped up in your direction as they heard your foot creak on the floorboard in the hallway. They sat still, as if they were afraid that moving would scare you away. You walked further into the living room, stopping in front of your parents before retreating to the lounge chair across the room.

“I know you guys are probably really confused,” you began, leaning back in the chair as your parents watched you. “But I’ve decided that I don’t want to run away from my problems anymore and that includes you guys,” your Mother’s face twisted in sadness as your Father’s seemed to harden.

“What do you mean? Are you saying that we’re a problem?” your Mother’s words seemed defensive as she raised a hand to her chest. Your Father still sat beside her, staring at you for an explanation.

“What I mean,” you spoke up, feeling confident in your words. “Is that the two of you never treated me well. Not as a child and not now. When I was younger, the two of you cared more about winning whatever argument you were in than taking care of your kid. That’s why I don’t come home anymore. Because as much as I’d like to think things are different, I know they aren’t. No, now the two of you just lie to me instead. Family is supposed to be there for each other, to tell you the truth, even if you don’t want to hear it. So, it doesn’t seem like we’re much of a family anymore,” you shifted in your seat, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

“Just because we got divorced doesn’t mean we’re any less of a family. We both love you so much,” your Mother said, her voice fueling the tension in the room.

“That’s not why, Mom. We’re not a family because we don’t act like one. Because we don’t treat each other like one. Never have and never will. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a real family is back in London. And I have a chance to fix it. So, I’m leaving. I’m going to stay here tonight, but I’m meeting Brian at the airport in the morning and we’re going back to London. I’m going back home,” you finished proudly, leaning back your seat again and admiring the dumbfounded looks on your parent’s faces. Your Father’s eyes narrowed, and he went to speak but you cut him off. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay, but I don’t think I’ll be returning anytime soon. I look forward to our overly rehearsed phone calls on birthdays and holidays,” you stood up, walking back down the hallway and up the stairs to your bedroom.

You sat down on your bed, picking up the phone in your room to call Brian’s hotel. After a brief conversation with the hotel receptionist, you finally got through, telling him that you’ll meet him at the airport tomorrow. Brian smiled at your words, even though you couldn’t see him. He was glad to hear you sounding so cheerful again, and he knew that you had a plan. A plan to set your life back on track. To choose the boy that you loved the most. To get married, have kids, and all of that. All you needed now was a plane ticket.

November 23, 1974

Brian stood next to you outside the airport terminal, helping you check your bag in for the flight. After you’d gotten off the phone with Brian the night before you made travel arrangements, getting yourself a ticket on the same flight as Brian. Your parents sent you off with a hug and a distasteful glare as you stepped out of the backseat of their car onto the concrete with your suitcase in hand. After finally getting checked in, you and Brian retreated into the warmth of the airport, going past security and into the waiting area for your flight. He caught you up on everything that had happened since you left, especially stuff going on with the band. It wasn’t long before the two of your boarded the plane, heading back for London.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Brian said after the plane had already taken off. He sat next to you, a crossword puzzle lying on the tray in front of him as he held a pencil in his hand.

“What’s strange?” you asked, putting down the book that you had been reading so you could see his face better.

“Leaving the place that you used to consider to be your home but feeling no attachment to it. I mean, you didn’t even want the window seat,” he pointed towards the window on his left and you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s not like I don’t feel attached to it. I grew up here and I’ll always associate it with my childhood. But now, I’m all grown up. I’m a different person. There isn’t much left for me there,” you spoke, placing your bookmark into your book.

“What about the beach?” Brian asked, his eyes meeting yours as the sun shined in through the window behind him.

“The beach will always be there. But home isn’t a place, it’s people. You guys are my home. I just kind of hate how long it took me to figure that out,” you placed your hand on Brian’s in a comforting manner, stroking the back of his palm with your thumb. He smiled at you, turning his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. The two of you sat like that for a while, even though you had returned to your book and he had gone back to his crossword.

You felt a shared bond that only the two of you truly understood. Something that bound you together in a familial sense. As if Brian was your brother and you were his sister. Thinking back, you never thought you could feel this way about anyone, especially the curly haired dork in your freshman year astronomy class. Both of you had grown so much since then, shifting and transforming into the people that you are today. And it made you think of change once more.

Something you had grown to hate, to despise even. A natural course of life that was ever so persistent and entirely unstoppable. Oh, how strange it felt to think back to times when things were different, to when you didn’t feel the same way that you did now. Change, an element that you detested greatly, now felt sort of good. To look over at the man beside you and recognize the growth he has endured over the past six or so years. You looked at Brian and saw the same face of that young man in your class, only his hair had gotten even bigger, and realized that change can be good. It’s a natural concept that the laws of the universe must obey.

Not every change was bad, you saw that now. Whether it was the length of your hair or the way you felt after making a few friends in London, not all of it was bad. Sure, life had its ups and downs, and there will always be a time that seemed to be much simpler than what you were dealing with now, but everything works itself out in the end. Everything happens for a reason. In the words of the French, C’est la vie. That’s life.

You sat in your aisle seat, too focused on your thoughts to read but still looking down at the word covered pages before you. Eventually you snapped out of it when the flight attendant brought you and Brian some drinks. You spent the rest of the flight reading and it wasn’t until you landed that you realized how close you were to finishing your book. Brian led you off the plane, taking you back through luggage claim and out towards the front of the airport. There, standing against her car with her arms crossed over her chest, was Sally. As soon as she saw you, she charged forward, engulfing you in a hug so tight that you dropped your suitcase.

“You’re a complete and absolute dumbass,” she squealed, pulling you even tighter into her arms. “I forbid you from ever leaving like that again. You had me convinced that you weren’t coming back,” she finally pulled back, resting her hands on your biceps before pulling you in once more to give you a big kiss on the cheek.

“Eleh,” you exclaimed, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “What are you? My Mom?” you joked, and she gave you a stern glare, which only caused you to laugh. “Geez you really are my Mom,” you spoke through your laughter. Brian grabbed your bag from the ground, putting it into Sally’s truck as she guided you over to her car. You sat in the passenger’s seat and wished Brian a goodbye before Sally began to drive off, heading out of the airport parking lot.

“So where to first?” she asked, looking over at you from her seat in the car. “Want to stop by a certain boy’s place to confess your undying love? All you have to do is tell me which boy,” she teased, slowing as she came to the intersection that led out of the lot.

“Real funny, Sally,” you shoved her lightly and she laughed. “But no, I want to go home,” you stared straight ahead, watching the lights in front of you.

“Home? Didn’t you just get back from home? You know, New Jersey?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed as the light turned green.

“Nope,” you said simply, popping the p loudly. “I haven’t been home in about a week,” you replied, turning to face her. Sally looked over at you, noticing the glint in your eye as you spoke and the faint trace of a smile on your lips. She immediately understood what you were saying and took a right turn, heading in the direction of your shared apartment.

November 25, 1974

Sleeping in your bed for the first time in a week felt amazing. You almost forgot how comfortable it felt to wrap yourself up in your blankets and sink into your pillow. You spent nearly the entire day in bed after you got home, trying to make a master plan on how to solve all of your issues. And you would have done the same today if it weren’t for your damn alarm clock going off. The warmth of your blankets made it so tempting to stay in bed, but right now you had to get up and go to work like a normal member of a functioning society. You certainly weren’t looking forward to working for eight hours straight, but you’d taken more than your fair share of days off in the last week.

You went through your day like normal, mostly on autopilot as you dealt with customers. It wasn’t until you got off work that your focus was restored, continuing your scheme to get your life back on track. The walk home from work that day was especially chilly, but you were too caught up in your head to care. The wind pushed your hair back, biting the tip of your nose as it did, but you continued on walking. Finally, you neared your building, pushing through the front doors and going up the stairs. You walked down the long hallway, stopping in front of your door to pull out your keys, but you were surprised to find it unlocked. That’s weird, Sally is supposed to be at work.

You pushed the door open, dropping your key back into your purse before looking up and seeing a familiar face. There, sitting in his favorite chair in your living room, was Roger. His fingers tapped wildly against his leg before his eyes locked onto yours. He stood up, brushing his hands against the front of his jeans as you closed the door behind you.

“What are you…” you began but trailed off, unable to think of a way to finish your sentence, but Roger understood.

“Sally gave me her spare key. She told me what time you normally get home too,” his voice was quiet, gentle. It was almost as if he was terrified to talk to you, but you knew that he probably was. “I think it’s time that we talked,” he said, and you moved over towards the couch as he began to sit back in the chair. Roger opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him.

“Before you say anything, I’m really sorry. It was awful of me to spring all of that on you at once. It was bad and I never should have done it. It wasn’t fair for me to put you in a position like that,” your words came quickly, and Roger nodded.

“I know, love. I know that wasn’t your intention. You were scared and confused. I understand,” he gave you a sad smile to help sooth your uneasiness. “And now we’ve both had plenty of time to process everything, so I think it’s time to talk,” he continued, looking at you as he spoke.

“Where do we start?” you asked, shifting back into the couch, crossing one of your legs over the other. You tried to make yourself feel more at ease, but it was difficult when your brain was moving at a mile a minute.

“Did you mean it? When you said that you loved me, did you mean it?” Roger questioned. He leaned forward in his seat, waiting for you to answer. You shook your head yes and saw him let out a deep breath that he had been holding in. He thought I was being too emotional and didn’t actually love him. You felt a pang in your chest at that thought, hating the idea that Roger could have been led to think that.

“I would never lie about something like that, even in such an emotional state of mind,” you gazed into Roger’s eyes, trying to convey your seriousness through a look. Between the look on your face and the shine in your eyes, he believed you.

“Alright, that was only half of the hard part,” he mumbled more to himself than to you. “Have you thought about what you said? About being with me instead of John?” Roger seemed as if he didn’t want to ask but he needed to know. His hands got clammy and a chill ran down his spine as the words left his lips. He sat still, waiting for you to respond as his stomach began to do flips.

“I have,” you said quietly, feeling a beat in your chest that felt irregular and out of control. Your eyes fell to the ground and Roger felt his heart ache as you avoided his gaze.

“So, it’s a no then?” he asked, his voice was low, and you could practically hear the sadness in it. “You don’t want to be with me,” he stated. He could tell just by the way I avoided his gaze. You nodded slowly, bringing your eyes back up to look over his saddened expression.

“I’m so sorry, Rog,” you meant to go on, to explain, but Roger interrupted you.

“It’s ok, love. I understand. You love me but you love John more. You’ve got a better future with him too,” a small tear ran down his cheek despite his efforts to keep them in. Roger didn’t want you to feel bad, didn’t want you to feel like you’ve hurt him, but it was difficult to hide such a hurt. “There’s no need to feel sorry. I knew what I was getting myself into,” his words were followed by a few sniffles.

“I do love you though. A part of me probably always will. But the way I feel about you is so different than the way I feel about John. I know it’ll be hard for you, but I still want to be your friend. Go back to how things used to be. Or maybe not, because things change, and people grow. Either way, I can’t imagine my life without you,” your hands reached forward, holding Roger’s in yours.

“I’d like that,” he said, brushing the tears from his face. “And we were always better as friends anyways,” he chuckled, causing you to laugh a little. He stood up and you followed. You pulled Roger into a warm hug, feeling the way his hands wrapped around you. The two of you stood there for a while, relishing in the warmth of each other’s bodies and admiring the feel of your limbs tangled together. “I think I should head out,” he muttered after a while. He didn’t really want to go, but he knew he should.

“Ok,” you whispered, slowly letting go and pulling back from his grasp. He walked over to the door, pulling on his coat before placing his hand on the door handle. Roger stopped for a moment, as if he was contemplating something. He lifted his hand from the knob and turned back around to face you. With one swift motion, Roger placed his hands on your cheeks and pressed his lips softly against yours. You let him, admiring the feeling of his soft lips one last time.

“I just needed to that for one final time,” Roger spoke quietly after pulling away. You nodded and he turned back to the door again, this time he actually pulled it open. “Bye, Y/n. I’ll see you later,” he gave you a soft smile, one that hid most of his hurt behind it.

“Bye, Rog,” you stood in the door frame, watching him go. You remembered how you’d done the same thing after he stormed out last time and you wished for him to look back at least once. And this time, just before he reached the end of the hall, he did. Roger’s eyes locked onto yours and you smiled, knowing that things between the two of you were good. Everything will be ok.

----------------------------

After Roger left you had gotten up and began cleaning, keeping yourself busy as you waited for Sally to get home. You wanted to tell her right away. To inform her of your slight triumph over the situation. You began cooking when it got later in anticipation of Sally’s arrival home. By the time you were finishing up, you heard the front door open.

“It smells good in here,” the person called out, but it wasn’t Sally. You turned off the stove and put down the wooden spoon that was in your hand. Your feet led you out of the kitchen and into the living room where Freddie now stood.

“Fred? What are you doing here?” you asked, moving closer to where he stood near the door. He smiled widely at you, moving forward to envelop you in his arms.

“What? Can’t I stop by and see my friend after she leaves for a week? And Darling, you probably shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like that. There are plenty of strange young men in London that could break in,” he let go, letting his hands trail down your arms until they reached your hands.

“Oh, trust me I know. I’m looking at one of them right now,” you smiled, squeezing his hands as you spoke, and he laughed. “But seriously Freddie, what are you doing here?” you asked again, and Freddie’s smile faded from his face.

“Right,” he spoke slowly, letting his hands fall from yours. “Brian drove me over. He sent me upstairs to see if you were home,” Freddie seemed a little nervous, which was very unlike him.

“Well why didn’t Brian come up here himself?” you asked, thoroughly confused by what was going on.

“Because he’s not the only person in the car,” Freddie took a deep breath, looking up to meet his eyes with yours. “John’s down there too. He asked Brian to drive him here because he wants to talk to you. I just tagged along,” Freddie finished talking and looked down again.

“Ok,” you said, straightening your back. “Send him up then and we can talk,” you pushed yourself to exude confidence despite the nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if he doesn’t take me back? What if he realized that he doesn’t love me? What if I end up alone?

“He doesn’t need to,” a voice said from the doorway. You looked over and saw John. His long, wavy hair looked like it had been blown in the wind and his skin looked a little paler than normal, but he still looked beautiful. “I’m already here.”

Taglist: @retromusicsalad @bohemiansweede @deaconsroger @queen-crue @ohtheseboysilove @queeniesteiins @kemeryyyy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @rogmeddows @ziggymay @deakysmisfire @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @briarrose26 @greatdinosaursalad @queendeakyy @killer-qu33n-of-disaster @mi55chanandlerbong @rogertaylorseyelashes

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whatevshollandarchive · 5 years

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how to unlove someone • ch. 1 [tom holland x reader]

how to unlove someone • ch. 1

tom holland x reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, i think implications of smut, cheating (ish)

a/n: it’s supposed to be all lowercase :) please read prologue first!

series masterlist || general masterlist

you sat down in a chair at small round dining table in your apartment across from tom, who had his macbook sitting in front of him, lighting up his features.

piper was out on a study date with matthew, something you’d grown used to hearing in conversations when she and him were together. she wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half which gave you and tom some time to go over things in the ‘plan’.

he said it was composed of 5 steps that were supposedly fail-proof. he was serious, much to your surprise, but you agreed to it and there you were, listening to the brown haired boy prepare you for this process.

“so, we might need to make adjustments to the steps since you might do different things,” he told you and you smirked. “just, uh, what do you do to talk to him?”

“i text him?”

“other than that, y/n.”

“well, sometimes i stop him on campus to talk, or piper invites me to his apartment sometimes and i go.” tom nodded, thinking.

“okay, so that’s just a quick edit,” you rolled your eyes at his ‘sophisticated’ vibe. his outfit didn’t serve him any justice to his fake mannerisms either. a uni sweatshirt and sweatpants didn’t really scream “i’m an intelligent man who has all my shit together” and so that hinted to you that he was faking his attitude. he knew you knew that. “what’s his name in your phone?”

“just in my contacts or…?”

“anywhere you have him.”

“...it’s just his name.”

“that’s bullshit, y/n.”

“no!” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“gimme your phone so i can see then.”

“no!” you said again.

“what is it?” you didn’t say anything for a moment.

“why does it matter?”

“so i know if a part of this step is needed.” he looked at you, waiting, as you unlocked your phone and pushed it towards him so he could snoop around for himself. after about a minute of him opening and closing different apps just to make sure, he handed it back and began typing on his keyboard.

“what’re you typing?”

“i’m adding something to the rule, hold on.”

he asked you a ton of questions and typed away, leaving you confused, until he turned his laptop so you could read the screen. a google doc was open, and it was named ‘copy of how to unlove someone’. a singular list in arial font sat there.

“we’re going in order for this, starting with step one,” tom informed you, as he highlighted the first line with his cursor. “say you don’t like him.”

“it’s that simple? all i have to do is just say that i don’t like him?”

“just tell people that when they ask. tell yourself that. you just gotta say it until one day it’s true.”

“tom, are you sure this is gonna work?”

“‘has before, why wouldn’t it work now?”

you nodded, but still held your breath. you trusted tom and all, but this didn’t seem legit. you had your fingers crossed.

piper walked into the apartment, hung up her jacket, and turned to say something to you and paused when she saw tom.

“y/n, i-woah, hey, tom! what’re you doing here?”

he smiled.

“we were just catching up and studying.” tom replied, shutting his macbook before piper could read it. you nodded.

“oh, that’s great. how’s harrison?” you looked down at your hands in your lap.

“he’s doing pretty great, as far as i know. i bet he misses you.”

piper giggled, looking down at her feet. you rolled your eyes, she was doing her classic ‘that’s just how i talk to guys’ flirting. she does it with almost every guy, no matter what her relationship status is, and uses the excuse that it’s how she talks to guys. it usually didn’t irritate you. but today? you weren’t really sure why it was rubbing you the wrong way.

“i’m sure he’d definitely say so, that cheeky shit,” she responded, yanking her vans off her feet, and setting them on your shared shoe rack. “well, i’ll leave you guys to studying.”

and with that, your roommate went to her room.

“she hasn’t changed.” tom commented after hearing her bedroom door close and lock.

“what do you mean?” you almost didn’t want him to answer. it’s always the same with guys and piper. they all have the hots for her, and would always choose her over you. it’s the curse of having a more attractive best friend.

“she’s still kinda desperate as hell for attention. her personality’s the same as i remember it being before she and matt broke up last time.”

“yeah, she claims it’s just how she talks to boys but, like, no. it’s not,” you told the holland boy and he nodded, yawning. you glanced at the clock on the stove. it was only 11 o’clock. “you wanna watch a movie? i don’t have classes tomorrow so i don’t need to go to bed early.”

tom smiled and nodded.

“yeah, same. let’s do it.”

you picked out a movie, made popcorn, got tangled together under blankets and watched the movie almost all the way through, but you both fell asleep.

piper left her room to grab a bottle of water to find the credits rolling on the screen, a nearly empty bowl of popcorn on tom’s lap, and you two snoring softly on the couch. she smiled at the sight as she turned off the tv, took the bowl and set it on the kitchen counter, and turned off the lamp in the living room. she was glad you found someone to take your mind off of matthew for once. she got her water, and went to her room to leave you and tom to peacefully sleep.

the next morning at 7, you woke up to the sound of piper rushing to get to her class because she didn’t follow anyone’s advice and took an early class. tom was still across from you, his legs underneath yours as he slept through piper’s curses from the bathroom where she tried to brush her hair and her teeth at the same time. you heard someone’s laugh come from the bathroom that wasn’t the one of the blonde you knew and loved. you carefully got up and went to check on her, and found her phone propped up on the sink. she was on facetime with matthew, who was laughing at her being a mess.

a gorgeous mess.

you could almost hear his voice correcting you in your mind. you sighed and said good morning to the two of them.

“can you get my contacts from my vanity?” piper asked after spitting her toothpaste out. you nodded and walked into her room. the dark blue walls were filled with posters that she only bought for laughs, and a message board that had the same quote from matthew for ages. you grabbed her a sweatshirt from her laundry basket because you knew she’d regret it once she was out the door. you then grabbed her contacts and went back to the bathroom. you handed them to her and she thanked you. you nodded and suddenly tom was beside you as you stood watching her from outside the bathroom.

“hey.” you murmured.

“hi,” tom replied. “is that matthew?”

piper nodded, pulling the sweatshirt over her head.

“yooo, tom! what’re you doing over at the girls’?” matt’s voice rang out from her phone.

“i hung out with y/n last night and we fell asleep.”

matt wiggled his eyebrows, laughing. he ran a hand through his black quiff. you bit your lip, looking away from the phone. piper started to apply her lip gloss, and matthew turned his attention to her again. you tugged on tom’s sleeve to try to signal that you should go eat breakfast. he caught on.

you two started to make pancakes and a couple minutes later, piper (and matthew on her phone) came running through to get her shoes on her feet and her backpack on her back. they called out goodbyes before she rushed out of the apartment with only 20 minutes to drive to campus and get to class.

“you did good.” tom said, flipping a pancake.

“what?”

“you did good.”

“i didn’t really do much, but okay.”

“it’s a progress, you lead up to these things, love.”

after getting the pancakes done and sitting down to eat them, you tilted your head, looking at him.

“tom?”

“yeah?”

“how’d you come up with these steps anyway? like, who caused you to make them?”

he chuckled, pouring syrup all over his stack.

“some girl from year 11. you wouldn’t know her.”

“was that the only time they were ever used?”

“no. harrison used ‘em once,” you smirked as you took a bite of your breakfast. “you should’ve seen him, he was so whipped for her.”

“who was it?” tom raised his eyebrows, realizing that he shouldn’t have said that.

“that is confidential information.”

“it was piper, wasn’t it?”

“damn, how’d you guess it that fast?” tom groaned and you sighed.

“i’m used to it.” you replied and he gave you an sympathetic look.

“that really sucks, y/n.” you shrugged.

you both ate in silence before cleaning the sticky plates as a team. tom then invited you back to his apartment to hang out with him and harrison, but you declined.

“i’ve got to study, i have an exam tomorrow.” he nodded and waved goodbye before you closed the door.

your phone buzzed with a text from harrison himself. he was asking about piper and matthew. more specifically how you felt about it. you decided to follow tom’s advice and say you didn’t like matt anymore so you didn’t really care. and haz responded with a tea cup emoji, making you laugh a little. this was already kind of easy. hopefully tom’s other steps were as easy as this one.

piper came home later that evening, looking exhausted as she dropped her bag onto the floor, slipping her vans off, and flopping next to you on the couch. you paused the movie you were watching on netflix and set your bowl of ice cream on the coffee table in front of you.

“how was your day?”

she didn’t say anything at first, and you sighed, ready for either a really long rant or a ‘i just want to be alone’.

“everyone was calling me a hoe and a slut because matthew and i are back together even though i just got out of a relationship two weeks ago.” she said quietly, staring at the ceiling.

“p, i’m sorry about that,” you said. “people just can’t seem to grow up and realize that this isn’t high school anymore.”

“they’re right, though,” she spoke up again, this time looking at you as she sat up. “i am a hoe. i can’t stay single for a month at a time, y/n. what they say about me is true.”

“piper-”

“y/n, don’t even lie to me.”

“i’m not. you’re not a hoe, you’re not a whore, you’re not a slut. none of it. this is something you just need to realize. you don’t always have to be in a relationship.”

“that’s the definition of being a hoe.”

“i’m not so sure about that.”

she made a face and sighed, stealing your bowl of ice cream to eat the rest of it before it could melt.

“let’s talk about something else, i don’t wanna think about this anymore.” you nodded, pulling your feet under yourself.

“okay,” you put your phone on do not disturb, and piper did the same. the phones were both set on the coffee table, face down. you two always did that when you wanted to get away from the drama and just talk. you did it together, you did it with your entire friend group, you did it by yourselves. it was a way to escape from the web. “what do you wanna talk about, then?”

a grin spread on your best friend’s face and she gave you a knowing look.

“thomas stanley holland,” you rolled your eyes, already regretting letting her talk to you. “what’s going on with that? how come he all the sudden came over to ‘catch up’ and then falls asleep here?” she wiggled her eyebrows, before grinning. “are you two sleeping together?” you playfully shoved her.

“he came over just to hang out again, we haven’t talked in ages. and we’re just friends.” piper still had that shit-eating grin on her face.

“well, just friends don’t like at each other like that.”

“like what?”

“y/n, you’ve gotta be kidding me right now. you look at tom like you look at matt! and you look at matt like he put the fucking stars in the sky!”

“no. i don’t look at tom like that.”

“trust me. you do.” you shook your head and she nodded hers, causing a ‘yes’ ‘no’ battle to break out. eventually, though, it ended with the two of you falling into a pit of giggles.

“shit, man, have you talked to matt since i told you about us?” piper then asked after a moment.

“he texted me about it, but other than that and this morning on your facetime, no.” she nodded, running a hand through her hair.

“you still like him?” she whispered. she knew she’d hurt you by going to matthew again. she knew she’d hurt you all the other times too. she just couldn’t give him up, no matter how many times she tried. he definitely wasn’t the best person, but he sure the hell could pretend he was sometimes.

“no.”

your murmur surprised piper, but she didn’t show it on her features. she honestly was eighty percent sure you were lying, but she wasn’t gonna say anything. she knew you both wanted to believe it.

piper soon said goodnight and left to go to bed. you didn’t bother finishing your movie, turning off netflix and the tv. you went to your room afterwards, finding two texts waiting on your phone’s lock screen. one from tom, one from matthew.

the thing about matthew; he was your best friend at some point before you dated. after your breakup, you both just didn’t fall back into place. it wasn’t that neither of you wanted to be friends, you both did. it just was that it wasn’t gonna be the same and you both knew that, so neither of you bothered to try hard to get no new outcomes. the overall feeling hurt you, because although you knew there was nothing you could do, you still loved him and you missed him.

you sighed, unlocking your phone and opening tom’s text first.

tom holland

lunch tomorrow @ 1? step 2?

you responded with a ‘sure, lmk where’ and went to matthew’s text.

matt :))

is p asleep?

your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you tried to figure out what to say. you weren’t sure why he was asking, so you were unsure what tone to use. you assumed she was asleep, though, so you sent a simple ‘yeah, i think so’ and dropped your phone onto the bed. you went to go wash your face and brush your teeth in the bathroom, thinking about piper and matthew and tom. when you returned to your room, you got into bed and looked at your phone again. tom hadn’t responded yet, but matthew had. twice.

matt :))

ight

matt :))

you wanna get drinks?

your heart stopped. surely this wasn’t him cheating on piper, because you guys were friends. friends ask each other if they wanna get drinks, right? but it was after he asked if piper was asleep. you sighed, staring down at his messages before responding. if you wanted to get over him, you couldn’t let him use you for attention. he had a girlfriend, too, who happened to be your best friend. you couldn’t do that to her. you said no. you said you were tired. he read them immediately, sitting in his dark bedroom, the only light source coming from his bright phone screen. before he could respond, another typing bubble appeared.

y/n

goodnight.

he sighed, not bothering to respond, tossing his phone to the side. it was a stretch anyway.

taglist: @spooder-moon @yoinksholland @sweetest-sorrow @thebadassbitchqueen @more-than-friends-lessthanlovers

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader angst #harrison osterfield x reader smut #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield angst

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years

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OUAT Rewatch 4X14 - Enter the Dragon

Sorry for all the delays with these reviews! I’ve really been DRAGON my feet through this whole season, haven’t I?

...You don’t come here for smart puns, Regina! XD

Anyway, there’s a nice juicy review under the cut!

Main Takeaways

Past

I love how this plays as the evil version of every “young person melts the heart of older person and convinces them to go back to doing what they love” story! While it’s not a parody -- and is in fact played deadly straight -- it’s funny as hell to watch because of that!

It’s kind of weird seeing such vague mentions of Mal’s backstory. All throughout the episode, we hear clues, but are never given anything concrete. I wonder when or even if we ever would’ve gotten a backstory for Mal and Briar Rose.

Present

Wow, I gotta say, considering how DESTROYED Mal was by what Snowing did to her kid, stealing another kid is just horrible (The fact that he’s turned back into August and she may or may not have known that is irrelevant for me since she stealing a son from his father at the end of the day) ! I don’t know if it’s exactly poorly written or not -- a case of extremism turning her into what she hates or mishandling a character who is supposed to be more balanced between being evil and sympathetic. I guess it’s up to interpretation, but given that the there doesn’t get to be a reaction from Marco to Maleficent over the fact considering how big of a deal it is that she reverted a little boy back into being a grown man, I feel forced to say the latter.

This also applies to Regina too, ESPECIALLY considering her conversations with Marco in the last episode and this is more of a problem than I realized. She’s stealing a child, putting him up against three villains, AND disposing any direct means of contact between herself and her backup. And the fact that Rumple reverts him into being August at the end of the episode changes nothing here because that wasn’t an anticipated move. It’s even more distracting given the gravitas of the moment where Emma and Regina try to figure out whether or not to steal him in the first place. Regina says she’s going to protect him and pull out if he’s in danger, but what does she think they’re going to do to him if not threaten his life? Even just the emotional duress of those kind of threats is crazy to do to a kid. And then to drop her phone so he can’t even be tracked? It’s played as this necessary evil, but is never given the payoff to back up what a horrible and reckless thing this was to do. They STOLE his childhood -- what was essentially his happy ending -- and that has to be answered for by ALL involved parties: Maleficent, Regina, and Emma too for ultimately agreeing to this.

This segment has a really interesting theme of not being overly insistent on complete control. Throughout it, Regina insists to her friends that she can handle the Queens of Darkness. Even as the stakes raise, she makes risky and riskier decisions that she says she can manage. This culminates in a horribly risky decision (See above) that, in her insistence in keeping control over the situation and her sureness that she’s right, has Regina abandon her means of getting backup. And this all ends with Regina, forced by her own hand, to relinquish control to Rumple. I think that this is an important lesson for Regina to learn, and while I didn’t like the big decision that she had to make for lack of a proper fallout (I’ll actually discuss in a bit why I choose this episode to take the issue with it), I think the rest of the story is good!

Stream of Consciousness

-Regina, you trying to KILL ME with the cut of that shirt?! Because it is working!

-Damn, Regina is AMAZING at acting evil! XD

-HOW THE FUCK DID YOU CRUSH GLASS?! ARE YOU THE FUCKING HULK? XD

-I love how Regina looks between Mal’s castle and her book like “I’m gonna get my favorite author to sign my book!”

-Wouldn’t someone just win “Don’t Be a Hero” by only saving themselves?

-I love how there were freakin’ BETS on the game! XD

-We got another Henry and Belle scene!!! Tbh, I wish there was a bit more substance here too. Belle ADORES books and this is literally a mystery surrounding a book! Why couldn’t she give him some advice on maybe where to look or just talk about the nature of books! You have two book fans sharing a scene! Why not use that?

-I would KILL to know how Regina’s night of drinking with the Queens of Darkness went! Like, they drank a whole bar! XD

-To be fair, Emma, Regina’s probably not reaching out because she’s hungover as FUCK after DRINKING A WHOLE BAR! XD

-MAL, DRUNK AS FUCK, SINGED A COP CAR! XD WHERE ARE FICS OF THIS! THIS IS THE TRUE SEQUEL TO “THE HANGOVER!” XD

-”Some drinking.” SOME DRINKING? YOU DRANK AND ENTIRE BAR! XD

-I like how Regina’s “pathetic” flame was more of a matter of nervousness than inexperience. It shows that Regina’s learned a lot during her tenure with Rumple while still having a lot of space to grow.

-Maleficent is introduced as a druggie! She literally stabs herself with something that “takes the edge off!” XD

-”You need to remember who you are.” “That Maleficent had a foul temper, and if you insulted her, she’d turn into a dragon and eat your flesh.” Holy hell! My eyes are filled with hearts!

-”Where the hell have you been all night?” I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT AS WELL!

-NOW WHAT KIND OF CRAZINESS HAPPENED IN THE VAULT?! XD

-To be fair, Emma, Regina’s been ROCKING this undercover mission so far.

-This episode is full of sexy, badass people, but this cake is the sexiest thing of all!

-”Well, look at which two survivors found a dinghy together.” ...Rumple, HOW ARE YOU SO BAD AT BEING KILLIAN? IT’S NOT ESPECIALLY HARD AND YET YOU SOMEHOW FAILED AT IT! It’s like trying to pet a puppy and instead doing a handstand! XD

-I love how Storybrooke can appear on a GPS system! Is someone in town just a really good techie or is Google our new God? XD

-”The only magical thing you’ll find here is duct tape.” Accurate! XD

-”You didn’t ask your questions more forcefully.” Oh trust me, she did. It was scary.

-”One little snafu?” YOU WOULD HAVE TO STEAL A CHILD!

-”Break some rules.” YOU ARE STEALING A CHILD!

-A Pirate’s Oath! XD What the hell? Someone’s just looking to cop a feel!

-I love the fact that it is 100% canon that Regina rode on the back of a dragon. Maleficent gave her the best piggyback ride in the UNIVERSE!

-Wait: GOLD HAS A CABIN?

Favorite Dynamic

Rump-illian and Belle. I absolutely love Rump-illian and Belle’s subplot here. Rumple, for better or worse, knows Belle and is exactly slippery enough to forge a story to get the dagger back for himself but also not infallible as to still fail to discuss things he wasn’t privy to. Major props have to go to Colin. He’s playing Rumple playing Killian and that is AMAZING! His lines and delivery are just awkward enough to capture Rumple’s failure to perfectly capture Killian, but they’re close enough that they could fool someone who’s just getting to be close with Killian like Belle. He’s always a little off center in how he conducts himself, making the reveal something that could feasibly be guessed but also surprise everyone! And the transitions -- the one at the docks the one as he walks into the pawnshop, and the one outside the pawnshop are done so well as to make the whole subplot even better!

Writer

David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz are in charge of today’s episode! So far, they’ve had a perfect season! But...well… Look. This episode isn't bad, but I do wish the present segment had some more polish. Considering that the three people involved in that final decision are all mothers and to not do more with that idea is really distracting in hindsight.

Rating

8/10. I’m torn about whether or not I should punish this episode for what goes down with Pinocchio. This episode is more setup in that regard than payoff and it’s not bad setup. But at the same time, I do have to ask myself if that payoff was ever going to happen and if it wasn’t, then the setup of something that upon inspection is so fucked up. And I do think that the payoff wasn’t intended to come up -- they had to know -- and so I do find fault with this episode for executing this idea in such an irresponsible way. Otherwise though, the storytelling is really good. Everything makes sense, the story’s engaging, the pacing works, the characters are for the most part in line, and the theme of the past segment lines up in a way that’s subtle, yet effective.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

DRAGON QUEEN - This is my JAM! Look at Regina’s face as Mal enters the room. That is the face of a woman realizing “I am gay for LIFE!” And in the present, could these two flirt any MORE?! <3 Just look at the aspirin scene! Mal and Regina are both letting their guard down (Regina’s being more of a casual spitfire, Mal’s not wearing the jacket and is giving a bit more info), Mal’s helping Regina out a bit, there’s candles everywhere, and there’s a touch of loose tension in the room. It’s enough to make the moment pretty sexy. ALSO, they go on a mission alone and the presentation to it plays out exactly like an impromptu date! This is the BEST! I just love how Regina smiles for Mal. It’s big, but natural and just kind of happy!

Swan Queen - Dude! Emma is so worried about Regina! That panic in her voice is CRAZY and her dedication to having Regina’s back and protecting her really shows how much she cares for Regina! This as some of their best shippy moments by the sheer amount of concern Emma has for her!

Captain Swan - While it doesn’t work exactly, Killian does a really good job assuring Emma that things with Regina will be okay.

Mal/Briar Rose - “What happened to you?” “A Rose. A Briar Rose.” Mal says that line in the same way someone talks about someone who they had a bad breakup with!

-----

Hi!!! Thanks for reading and shout outs to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales and to the lovely @daensarah! See you all next time!

Season 4 Total (121/230)

Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (34/60) Jane Espenson: (20/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (38/50) Andrew Chambliss: (22/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30) Kalinda Vazquez: (22/40) Scott Nimerfro: (14/30) Tze Chun (8/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 4x14 #jenna watches ouat

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psychosistr · 5 years

Text

Uplifting- CaeJose Dancer!AU

Summary: Joseph, a transgender dmab girl, is the best dancer in her troupe and assists with teaching her mother’s class. Being larger than most girls, though, not many people are too keen on being her partner for certain lessons- namely, lifting. That is, until a new blond haired student waltzes into her life...

Edit: I have decided to make this a series and have added a second part x3

Notes: So, after reading this post by @freckledbastard the idea for a CaeJose Dancer!AU got stuck in my head and I ended up writing out the whole thing instead of sleeping tonight! My brain is now mush ~_~ Anyway, enjoy!

Also: The song I envisioned Joseph and Caesar’s dance to was an extended version of the song “Dance of Swords” from Steven Universe, you can easily look it up by typing the song name into Google- go check it out sometime, it’s lovely :)

Joseph sighed while looking out over the various new students of her mother’s dance class. There were certainly a lot of promising new faces, many of them already possessing limber and strong bodies that would look amazing through the art of properly choreographed dance. The best of the bunch, like Joseph, would be invited to join the Hamon Troupe- the country’s premiere dance group that always guaranteed sold out shows wherever they performed.

While waiting for the instructor, Lady Lisa Lisa, Joseph over heard the usual gossip that tended to transpire between new students and the veterans of the class that had yet to be scouted for the troupe.

Unfortunately, though, as always, it was gossip about Joseph.

“Hey, so, who’s the big guy in the pink tights?”

“Shh! Don’t call him a guy out loud or you’ll get kicked out!”

“What? Why? Who is that?”

“That’s Lady Lisa Lisa’s kid- Joseph Joestar. He’s been a member of the Hamon Troupe since he was, like, sixteen or something.”

“Seriously?! Wow, he must be REALLY good!”

“Yeah, he is. Kind of weird, though…”

“Huh? Whattaya mean?”

“I mean, well, look at how he’s dressed, for starters.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that- why’s he a wearing a girl’s uniform?”

“Eh, some weird artistic thing, I guess. Says he’s a girl and gets really mad if you call him a guy to his face.”

“Ha! Seriously?! The dude’s built like a body builder and says he’s a girl?”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know- but keep your voice down! He’s really sensitive about it and if you upset him then his mom’ll kick you out of the class.”

“Damn, what a freak…”

Joseph took a deep breath in slowly through her nose, then exhaled it through her mouth, masking the breathing exercise as part of her warm-up routine as she stretched her leg over the balance bars. She stayed close to the radio and pretended not to hear a word they said. They were idiots, anyway, she shouldn’t take what they said to heart.

Still…

Joseph took her leg back off the bar as she finished her warm-ups and looked at herself in the mirrors spread around the room: She was large and muscular, but that was simply how her body retained muscle after years of her mother’s intense training. She also kept her hair styled short and a bit messy, but that was simply how she liked it- it was easier to pin it back if she didn’t let it get too long. She wore make-up occasionally, though today wasn’t one of those days, but she was an all-or-nothing person and either went without the make-up or went over the top with full on paint and glitter until it was stage make-up level. She knew her outfit- the standard women’s class uniform of a black leotard, pale pink tights, sheer black mid-thigh length cover skirtlet, and black dance slippers- was a bit tight on her muscular form, but that’s because it was hard to find women’s clothes for someone as tall and big as she was.

Even so, none of that made her a freak, by any means. Her family accepted her, and she accepted herself, that’s all that mattered. The others were just fools intimated by her beauty and talent.

“If you all have the energy to talk, then I’ll assume that means you’re finished warming up.” The sharp voice of her mother cut through the studio like a knife and everyone jumped to attention, Joseph chuckling to herself at how nervous the new ones were. Walking to join her at the front of the studio by the radio, Lisa Lisa gestured for Joseph to turn off the music. After it was done, Joseph stood proudly beside her mother, feeling like a drill instructor surveying new soldiers. “Let me start by congratulating all of you for making it this far- merely getting into this class is quite an accomplishment. However, do not take that to mean your life will get any easier. From here on out, you will receive the most grueling training of your lives. You will eat, breathe, sleep, and bleed dance by the time I am done with you! Then, if any of you show significant promise, you MAY have the chance to join the Hamon Troupe.” She adjusted her sunglasses, looking over the students with a sternness that made the weaker ones quiver in fear. “However, don’t get your hopes up: The senior students here will quickly tell you that they have been here for years perfecting their craft and still have yet to reach the standard I hold my troupe members to.” With an elegant wave of her hand, she gestured to Joseph beside her. “This is my child, Joseph Joestar. Jojo has received personal training from me since childhood and is the standard to which the rest of you will be held to: If you do not demonstrate even half the talent Jojo has, then you won’t even be CONSIDERED for the Hamon Troupe.”

Joseph smirked at the nervous and uncomfortable faces staring at her. “That’s right, and I’m essentially the best dancer you’ll ever see, so don’t get your hopes up too high!”

“Now then, let’s get started on your first lesson!” Lisa Lisa clapped her hands together and began class, everyone hurrying to their starting points.

As Joseph set up the music for the lesson, she thought she felt someone looking at her. When she turned to look, though, everyone was already mirroring her mother’s movements.

She decided to brush it off as more people staring at her and being jealous of how amazing she was.

After the first couple weeks of lessons, they were starting to weed out the weaker links among the new students. A few had already quit and several more looked close to it by now. Others, though, were showing promise and might stick around.

The ones that had stayed were now being treated to a special lesson: The male members of the Hamon Troupe were visiting the class today to assist with the one lesson that Joseph and her mother would need help to teach properly: Lifting.

Joseph both loved and hated lift day. On one hand, lifting always looked like so much fun, the way the other girls twirled and arched in the air was dazzling. On the other hand, however, it always left her feeling depressed because of one sad, constant fact:

No one ever lifted Joseph.

With her size and weight, it was something that she had simply grown to accept over the years. Every other dancer in her classes and in the troupe would take one look at her and offer up a nervous smile and a shake of their heads when it came time to choose partners.

Today was no different, sadly.

After the troupe members had demonstrated the basics of lifting to the new students and her mother showed them the basic choreography they would use for today’s training, everyone was instructed to go find a partner. As with every other time this occurred, Joseph had resignedly found a spot to lean against one of the bars as the boys in the class hurried to pair up with the smaller, cuter girls, no one even sparing her a glance or asking her if she wanted to dance-

“Pardon me for intruding, signora, but are you not going to participate in the lesson today?”

Joseph was surprised by the smooth, accented voice suddenly speaking to her. She looked up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at and saw one of the new students leaning on the bar beside her with an expectant look.

She hadn’t fully memorized all of the new students’ names yet, but she remembered this one standing out as one of the better dancers. He was also one of the more handsome ones, if she was being honest: He had bright blond hair, fascinating purple marks on his cheeks that were either birthmarks or tattoos, eyes that sparkled like twin emeralds, and a charming smile that could make any woman’s knees weak. He was pretty tall, too- only a couple inches shorter than Joseph herself, and quite muscular, though, again, not as much as Joseph.

Joseph also noticed him in the crowds because of how he liked to add accents to his uniform in the form of a purple and orange headband that trailed behind him as he moved and the feathered pins in his hair that fluttered whenever he turned. She could certainly appreciate his sense of style, as she too personalized her outfits by usually wearing her favorite green and yellow striped scarf around the studio and pinning various flowers to her hair (today’s flower was a pink rose with a silver clip).

She realized she’d been staring too long and looked back out at the dance floor where the students and troupe members were taking turns in the center showing off their mastery of the choreography. “Oh..yeah..uh, no, I don’t really get to participate on days like this.”

“Why is that? You’re the best dancer here, are you not?” The blond student asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“Tch, well, duh, of course I am!” She replied quickly, crossing her arms over her chest proudly. Her pride deflated a bit, though, as she watched one of the new girls being lifted into the air as if she weighed nothing, an excited smile on her face. “But..lifting’s not exactly something I can do by myself..”

“Then why not ask someone to do it for you?” He sounded almost concerned by this point.

She sighed and closed her eyes, a pout on her face. “It doesn’t do any good. No one can lift me- I’m too big.” She opened her eyes again and was surprised to see the man looking at her with a displeased expression. “What’s with the look?”

“No one can lift you? Really? Not even the members of your troupe? Have they ever TRIED?” He asked her, looking somehow insulted even though the situation had nothing to do with him.

“Er, well, no, not really. I’ve asked before, but most guys just say they can’t and- Hey! What are you-?!” She was startled when the blonde student suddenly grabbed her by the hand and led her out to the center of the dance floor. He even went so far as to harshly shove one of the troupe members who was about to take a turn out of his way. “Wait, why are we-?”

“You know the choreography, si?” He asked as he took his place across from her on the floor, getting into the starting position for the lesson’s dance.

Joseph hesitantly got into her starting position as well. “Well, yeah, of course I do, but-”

“Then dance with me.” He said firmly as the song looped back around to the beginning, leaving no room or time for argument on Joseph’s part.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She said with a huff but began to dance anyway.

The movements for the dance were simple, a way for the students to get used to each other’s tempo and movement so they could synch up well enough for the female partners to be lifted properly. The smooth twirls and measured steps were a bit boring for someone as skilled as Joseph, but she followed the choreography flawlessly. The man, whatever his name was, performed the movements with just as much ease as they slowly drew closer to one another.

When they finally reached each other, Joseph did the appropriate spin that landed her in her dance partner’s arms. Closing her eyes, Joseph prepared for the imminent hesitation or realization of how heavy she actually was to kick in so the dance would come to an abrupt end.

She was instead surprised to feel strong hands gliding smoothly over her leotard and tights so that one was braced on the back of her thigh and the other on her back. Those hands then began to effortlessly hold her weight and allow her to rise up.

“?!” Joseph opened her eyes and realized with shock what was happening as she saw everything around her shift: She was being lifted off of the ground.

Surprised gasps and murmurs filled the room at the sight of Joseph being lifted up upside down over her partner’s head. By pure instinct and her own natural dancing prowess, Joseph remembered the right way to tense her body into a graceful arch above the man below her. She held the pose effortlessly, despite it being her first time.

When she expected to be set down at the end of the dance, though, she was surprised once again by the blonde man when he lowered her back do the ground gracefully, but continued dancing with her. The song was technically about two and a half minutes long, though they’d only been taught enough choreography to cover about thirty seconds of it. Despite this, her partner seemed content to keep going and, in all honesty, Joseph was feeling too giddy to stop herself either.

They moved together flawlessly: Every brush of their hands was coordinated in perfect synch. No step was misjudged between them. Each spin they did while joined together caused Joseph’s long scarf and the twin trails of the blonde’s headband to billow around them like ribbons. The man even picked Joseph up on a few of the spins so that she could feel the wind rushing through her hair like never before.

It was all so incredible, an entirely new experience for Joseph. Sure, she’d danced with several skilled dancers over the years, but none of them had this level of strength- this PASSION behind their movements like this stranger did. Even though this was their first dance, they moved as if their very souls had been dancing together since the dawn of time. She honestly wished the song would go on forever, leaving just the two of them dancing in their own little world.

Alas, all good things come to an end eventually. The end came when the song reached its final crescendo, Joseph’s partner lifting her in the air one last time at the peak of the music before lowering her seamlessly into a dip. The way he smiled down at her made her heart skip a beat and her cheeks flush- no partner had ever looked at her like that, let alone managed to dip her without looking strained.

At the end of the song, he carefully lifted Joseph back up into a standing position. Instead of letting her go, though, he kept his hand planted firmly on her back, holding her close against him. While holding her almost protectively, he raised his other hand and pointed at the men- both the students as well as the troupe members- with that same displeased, almost angry, expression he had earlier before the dance.

“Cowards!” He yelled at them harshly, his finger pointing in an accusing, sweeping gesture at the various male dancers. “Cowards and weaklings, the lot of you! How dare you leave such a bella fanciulla on her own!” He shook his head disapprovingly. “It’s absolutely shameful to consider yourselves skilled if you’re too scared to even try dancing with someone of such high caliber.”

‘Wow..’ Joseph thought to herself, a slight blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘He seems really offended about that. It’s..kind of sweet, actually…’

He looked back up at her, a charming smile returning to his face once again. “My apologies, signora- I nearly forgot to thank you for that wonderful dance.” He took her hand in his own and placed a kiss to the back of it like a classic gentleman from an old movie. “Grazie, mia bella dea.”

Joseph’s face flushed a little more, certainly not used to such treatment- let alone from such a handsome guy. “Uh..Uh huh..” Her heart was hammering in her chest and her hand tingled where his lips had touched her skin.

He gently caressed the back of her hand with his thumb as he spoke. “My name is Caesar A. Zeppeli. It is an honor to finally meet you formally, signora Joestar.”

“C-Call me Jojo..please..” She found herself speaking even though her mind felt like a pile of mush.

“Jojo.” The way he said her name should be illegal with how sexy he made it sound. He placed one last kiss to her hand before letting it go. “I shall look forward to our next dance, mia bellissima angelo.”

“Yeah..” Joseph blushed as she watched him walk back into the crowd of dancers, holding her hand to her chest and feeling her thrumming heart beat beneath it. “Me too..”

It was the first time she had been lifted by a partner, and, she realized, the first time she’d ever looked forward to a second dance with one as well.

Next Part->

#caejose #caesar zeppeli #joseph joestar #dancer!au #modern!au #trans!character #trans!joseph #thanks to @freckledbastard for the inspiration #i honestly might do more of this au later after I get some sleep lol

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your-old-enemy · 5 years

Text

Relapse (Stanlon)

I finished this for @atypical-it-ships, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Edited by myself with the help of Google Docs so any mistakes are my own.

!!!!WARNINGS: Death mention, suicide mention, self-harm mention and smut!!!!

Read it on Ao3

~~~~

Being the scrawny, Jewish kid in a group of misfits - of losers - wasn’t so bad, because they all had something that made them different from the rest of the riff-raff kids in school. What was difficult, was being the scrawny Jewish kid in the small town of Derry where most people were devout Christians. Things got even more difficult when he realised that the rumours about him being gay were true, and then life was pretty terrifying once he started dating the homeschooled kid from the only black family in the whole of Derry.

Stan Uris was a walking target, just like the rest of his friends but being with Mike Hanlon made him forget about all of that. He’d have slurs thrown at him from every direction at school while Mike wasn’t there to defend him, his parents tried to convince him he wasn’t gay to begin with and that even if he had to go through this ‘phase’, that he didn’t have to be experimenting with a black boy. Running errands for his mother, and walking through town he would always receive weird looks from grown adults and he’d hear the kinds of things they would say to their children as they walked by him. Hell, he took regular beatings just like Mike, Bill, Richie, Eddie and Ben, just for being gay. They all had their qualities that had Henry Bowers and his goons seeking them out for a good beating. The only time Stan ever felt safe was when The Losers Club were together at the quarry or hiding out on the Hanlon farm on the outskirts of town. Even then, there was always a hint of fear running through his body but he felt at peace when he was in the arms of the boy he loved.

Stan and Mike had the relationship that many people envied - they never fought, and they easily resolved their disagreements, that was until it was time to apply for college and the young men realised that they had different plans.

~~~~

The young lovers were in Mike’s bedroom in the large farmhouse he lived in with his parents and his grandparents. They were in the middle of the floor , surrounded by books and brochures full of information on prospective colleges, and Stan couldn’t decide on the best few he wanted to apply for. He hadn’t decided what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew he wanted to get as far away from Derry as he could - he wanted to live somewhere where their love would be acknowledged and accepted by the people around them and not just their handful of close friends. Stan didn’t want to be a freak and an outcast anymore.

“What do you think, baby-love?” Stan asked, his voice muffled by the thick book covering his face. “I think we should just apply to them all, and whatever one we both get accepted into together, we’ll take it. Do you agree?”

“Uh-”

“Or maybe we choose two each that we both like, and hope we both get into at least one of them .” Stan continued, not giving his boyfriend a chance to speak. “We can get so far away from this damn town. Are you excited?”

“Stan..” Mike sighed, making Stan put down his book and look at him. “We need to talk about these college plans, Lamb. I…”

“What is it?” Stan asked, a worried frown tugging at his eyebrows. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I know you’ve never been in a school, but college is a whole new experience for me, too. It ’s all new and different.”

“ It ’s not that,” Mike assured him with a shake of his head. “ It ’s… I… I can’t leave the farm, Stan.”

Stan didn’t understand, and he looked at Mike for a moment in silence to see if he was being serious or if he was just messing with him.

“You can leave, Mike. Are your family trying to keep you at home?” He asked.

Mike shook his head in response to Stan’s question before answering.

“No, Lamb. It’s nothing like that, it’s just that.. Well, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave the farm and I don’t want to leave Derry. I grew up here and I want to stay here.”

Stan couldn’t believe what Mike was saying to him right now. They’d had plans, promises, for years to leave Derry and start the rest of their lives together in the city far away from peoples bias’, and now here he was listening to Mike admit that he didn’t want to leave.

“That’s it?” Stan asked in disbelief, his voice more than a whisper. “You’re not even going to talk it out or think it through, you’re just staying?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, Stan. This isn’t just a last minute decision I’ve made.”

“Well, you never mentioned a thing about it. Don’t you think you should have let me know before now you didn’t want to come to college with me?”

“Yes,” Mike sighed. “I should have said something long before now, but also I could have made it much worse and waited until the last literal minute, after being accepted and completing all of our plans.”

Stan knew Mike had a point. It was bad, and not at all what he’d been expecting but it also could have been much, much worse than it already was.

“Will you think about it a little more?” He pleaded, looking down and picking up the brochure for Harvard. “At least send off a few applications, and see what your options could be, please? You can make your final decision in a few more months, but you should at least try. You might never forgive yourself otherwise.”

Mike opened his mouth to protest, to tell Stan that he’d already decided but when he saw that hopeful look on his boyfriends face, he nodded.

“I’ll apply to a couple, and see what my options are.” He promised.

~~~~

Mike had already decided back then. He was staying on the farm with his family and one day he would take over and run it himself, with his own family. He did as promised, and he applied to three different colleges that Stan also applied to but he wasn’t nervous about acceptance or rejection letters because he knew either way there was no way he was going to college.

After a few months of waiting, pretending to be as nervous as Stan and the rest of The Losers, Mike’s three acceptance, full-scholarship letters arrived in the mail and he tossed them all in the trash but somehow Stan found out and he wasn’t happy.

“You promised to think about it!” Stan yelled, his face flushed red and the veins in his neck visible as he strained his voice. “Why did you even bother, huh? You wasted time applying just to keep me happy!”

“That’s what’s important, Stan!” Mike yelled back. “Keeping you happy has always been my only priority. You wanted me to apply, so I applied but that doesn’t mean I want to go.”

A beat of silence passed between the two men before Stan spoke again.

“Did you even think about it?” He asked.

Looking down at his feet, Mike sighed and shook his head. “No..”

“Then why did you-”

“Would you stay?” Mike interrupted Stan, looking at him again.

“What?”

“If I asked you to stay.. Would you stay? Or at least think about it?”

They both knew the answer to that, and Stan swallowed around the lump in his throat, not saying anything.

“We don’t want the same things anymore, Stan.” Mike spoke, still keeping the length of the room between the two. “Maybe we used to, or at least we thought we did. This, though, is where I’m meant to be and I ’m never going to ask you to stay here and be unhappy .”

“So, I guess that’s it then,” Stan whimpered, his voice trembling and cracking as he tried not to cry. “I didn’t think it would end this way.”

Mike was the one who cried first. He stood there in the corner, a huge hunk of a man sobbing like a baby as his entire world crumbled around him. Stan crossed the room and pulled Mike down into his arms, holding him while they both cried and Mike clung to the back of Stan’s shirt.

“We could try long distance,” Stan suggested. “But you know, eventually , we’ll end up right back here again but further down the line.”

Mike nodded. He didn’t want this to end, to be away from Stan forever but he knew he needed to let him live his life the way he wanted to.

~~~~

Stan had left with a tearful goodbye to all of his friends, and one last night in bed with Mike but he slipped out of bed unnoticed in the morning - he thought. Mike knew Stan was sneaking out, and he was awake but pretended to sleep so that he wouldn’t have to watch him leave.

All of the losers kept in touch via a group text that Eddie had set up the first day that one of them left Derry. They all wanted to talk every day so that they wouldn’t forget about each other, but any communication between Mike and Stan was kept to an awkward minimum. They would travel back to Derry when celebrating holidays and birthdays with their families, and they’d travel throughout the year to visit one another but Stan put off going back to Derry for as long as he could but his parents got sick of him skipping out on their family Hanukkah traditions and they talked him into coming home.

On his way into Derry in his beat up old car, that his good friend Patty called his ‘Sedanley’, Stan had one stop to make before going to his childhood home. The Hanlon Farm. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to, because as soon as he saw the sign for Derry, it was like he was drawn right to Mike and he couldn’t force himself to keep on driving past. He took the turning on the right for the farm and drove up the winding road, leaving dust clouds in his wake.

Mike was outside tending to the pigs when he heard a car coming up the road. When he saw it at first, he didn’t recognize it, but then he saw the curly hair and crisp, clean shirt behind the steering wheel and he knew who it was. Wiping off his hands on the rag hanging from his pocket, Mike crossed the field to greet his visitor. As he approached the car, he could see Stan sitting inside talking to himself, arguing with himself, but the poor man looked like he needed help so Mike approached and knocked on the drivers window before Stan rolled it down and looked out up at him.

“Can I offer you a glass of fresh lemonade, sir?” Mike offered, a hint of teasing in his voice. “You’re gonna get cold just sittin’ out here in your car.”

“Thank you, lemonade would be great.” Stan replied, getting out of the car once Mike took a step away.

Out of his car, Stan followed Mike into the empty farmhouse. His grandparents had died and his parents moved out of town but still, Mike stayed. Inside the house looked just the same as Stan remembered it, with more of Mike’s personal touches throughout the house rather than it all being confined to his bedroom.

“Nothing changed much,” Stan commented, breaking the silence between them as they entered the kitchen.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Mike laughed, pouring lemonade into two glasses. He had a lemon tree out in the yard, and it was his favourite drink to make. So much sugar.

Stan sipped on his beverage once Mike handed it to him. The two of them stood there, drinking, in awkward silence.

“I didn’t think you’d ever be back in town.” Mike said, breaking that silence himself this time.

“I didn’t plan to, but my parents convinced me to be here for the holidays.”

“So, you’re leaving again after Hanukkah?” He asked.

“As soon as possible.”

Mike just nodded in response, his heart trying to climb up his throat to jump out onto the hardwood floor.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Stan spoke again, looking around the kitchen. “I… I couldn’t help it, I guess. So, if anyone asks, you never saw me.”

“What’s one more secret between two old lovers, huh?” Mike asked rhetorically with a soft chuckle that hid under his breath.

What could it hurt?

Stan wasn’t in love with Mike.

Stan wasn’t hung up on Mike.

Stan was just here wasting time before he had to face his parents and their interrogation.

Without another word passing between the two, they were on each other. Their glasses of lemonade were set down and the two of them were pressed flush together with their lips moving together in a memorised dance that had been perfected years ago. It was like a drug, addictive to the two of them and neither of them wanted to stop, so they didn’t. Their hands roamed the familiar paths across each other’s bodies as Mike guided Stan backwards through the house to the foot of the staircase then he scooped Stan into his arms and carried him upstairs to his childhood bedroom, which also had changed little but Stan was too busy to notice as Mike laid him down on top of his bed, parting from the kiss, making Stan whine.

“Tell me to stop.” Mike whispered against Stan’s ear. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Don’t stop.”

Mike’s lips were back on Stan, but this time kissing down the soft, tender skin of his neck while his fingers worked out the buttons of his shirt to expose more and more skin. Each button that came undone, allowed Mike to kiss lower down Stan’s chest and his stomach until he reached the waistline of his khakis.

“Don’t stop.” Stan repeated when he sensed Mike was hesitating, ready to ask again.

Mike did as Stan told him , and his fingers moved to Stan’s belt next and then undid his pants. the two of them were naked together on Mike’s bed, kissing again as their bodies moved together, cocks slicked with spit and rubbing together in the large palm of Mike’s hand. Both men were so worked up after being apart for so long, that it didn’t take too much effort for them both to reach their climax and cum all over one another with desperate cries of pleasure. Mike hadn’t thought very far ahead, and as he rolled off of Stan and laid beside him, he half expected Stan to curl up against his side and fall asleep with his head on his chest just like he used to, but not this time. This time, Stan got off of the bed and went to Mike’s bathroom with his clothes to clean up and returned a minute later dressed and put back together like nothing had even happened while Mike sat on the edge of his bed with his boxers pulled back on over his hips.

“Stan-”

“Mike, don’t. This isn’t… I don’t have to have you, and I don’t need to need you. Okay?”

Mike swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with tears at Stan’s words.

“I was chasing a high, so please don’t think I’m coming back. This was just a…” He paused, looking for the right word to describe what they did.

“A relapse?” Mike offered, and Stan nodded.

“This was just a relapse.” Stan confirmed, and in just a few minutes he was gone without a trace.

Stan had lied, though. He came back once more before he left, giving Mike a small Christmas present while he was there, and that wasn’t the last time Mike ever saw Stanley. Stan stopped by the farm every time he was in town for something, despite having said it was over because it was hard to stay ‘sober’ whenever he missed Mike. He would show up at Mike’s door every time he tried to quit and they referred to it as falling off of the wagon.

~~~~

The last time Stan turned up at Mike’s door, was the night after Stanley’s father’s funeral. Stan wasn’t drunk, but he was drunk on Mike and he needed to forget. Mike could never turn Stan away, when he was hurting. The two of them got their high together in the empty barn they’d used countless times as teenagers - Stan felt like he was floating when Mike was buried deep inside him, reaching spots he forgot he even had, hitting them with every grind and snap of his hips that made Stan cry out to all of the gods that might be out there, because that’s what Mike did to him. Mike knew no sweeter taste than Stanley’s lips, or the slick that leaked from the tip of his cock while he was being stretched open on Mike’s long, thick and rough fingers and there was nothing more heavenly than pushing into Stan’s hole as it quivered and clenched around his cock.

That night, they cuddled afterwards. Mike held Stan as they laid on the plaid blanket spread over the straw in the barn, avoiding the wet spot right in the middle, and Stan cried. He cried over the choices he had made, the things he’d given up and he cried for losing his father, but in that moment he felt at home in Mike’s arms.

“I don’t want to leave,” Stan admitted, once he finished crying.

“What?” Mike asked, shocked and convinced he had imagined what Stan just said.

“I don’t want to go back to LA, I want to stay here, with you.”

“Stan…” Mike’s stomach churned and his blood ran cold, making the tips of his fingers tingle and his hands shake. “There’s something you should know.. I would tell you before you left, but now-”

“What is it?” Stan asked, sounding much like he did the night Mike told him he didn’t want to go to college with him, and Mike felt like the biggest douche in the whole country.

“I met someone-”

“You… You what?” Stan asked with a nervous laugh.

“A girl.. I’m bi.. And she’s moving in.”

Stan felt his heart shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. He pushed away from Mike like he’d been burned and he stood, pulling on his clothes as as he could - covering up the thin, white scars he’d been hiding for years but only Mike knew about.

“Stan, baby, stop. Please, let’s talk about this!” Mike begged.

“What is there to talk about?!” Stan sobbed, trying to get his shoes on. “You’ve got a girlfriend, a serious one and she’s coming to live here with you!”

“But I need to make sure-”

“Make sure I ’m not going to tell her?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not telling anybody about any of this. I was never here, remember?” He spat the words at Mike, although it was himself he was angry with.

Mike re-dressed himself and followed Stan, begging him not to go yet, to stay until morning so he could calm down and they could talk about all of this. He wanted to explain everything, but Stan moved too fast for him, jumped in his sedan and sped off without looking back.

Stan would never return to Mike, never relapse with his old lover, not his human one anyway. When he got home after driving all night, he would reunite with his old, cold, metal lover in the comfort of his bathtub. How romantic.

#it 2017 #stanlon #mike hanlon #stan uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #the losers club

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