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anghraine · 2 years

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I’ve been thinking about the development of Elizabeth’s feelings for Darcy in P&P, and one of the things I find really intriguing is how incredibly careful Austen is in her handling of their physical attraction to each other.

A lot of takes on Darcy’s initial attraction to Elizabeth focus entirely on the physical element, but Austen’s description of it folds together his attraction to her intelligence, her expression, her body, and the “easy playfulness” of her manner. Of these, the earliest mentioned is his realization that her face is “rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes” and her eyes are the physical feature that he seems to dwell on the most.

At any rate, Darcy’s attraction to Elizabeth is established early on (Ch 6) and continues as a thread from that point on. And—I mean, even in 1813, it’s one thing to show a man in his twenties being attracted to the pretty heroine. Austen is a lot cagier about Elizabeth’s feelings.

The narrative is structured so that we know Darcy is physically attractive from his entrance in Ch 3, when the narrator refers to “his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien” along with his wealth. But we’re not in Elizabeth’s head at that point, and iirc, she isn’t shown as saying or thinking anything about his physical attractiveness until she blushingly agrees that he is very handsome forty chapters later.

Even there, Austen leaves the dialogue to stand on its own and tells us nothing of what Elizabeth actually feels about it. The conversation moves to Darcy’s personal virtues, which reveal the critical fact that Darcy is consistently kind and good-natured in the domestic sphere. So Elizabeth’s concession that Darcy is physically attractive is narratively linked to the suggestion that he would make a safe husband, emotionally speaking (although her concession comes first, which may be significant).

Between the initial, omniscient narrator-type description of him and Elizabeth agreeing in Ch 43, we do get references to his looks a few times, but during the period of Elizabeth’s dislike, it’s always either through implication or through someone around Elizabeth rather than Elizabeth herself. So Bingley, for instance, jokes about how Darcy is so much taller than he is, but the narrator only remarks on Elizabeth’s assumption that Darcy is offended by this.

We know that Elizabeth looks for a resemblance to Darcy when she first sees Lady Catherine, and finds it, but this isn’t explicitly linked to her conclusion that Lady Catherine might have been handsome in her youth.

Then there’s the introduction of Colonel Fitzwilliam, when he arrives with Darcy, as “about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman.” Obviously the contrast is with Darcy, who is handsome but has less gentlemanly manners, but this isn’t explicitly spelled out. Austen simply says that Darcy “looked just as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire” and moves to the manner of his compliments to Charlotte.

We do get an explicit contrast later, when Darcy, Georgiana, and Bingley come to Lambton (so, after the critical revelations):

Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there was sense and good humour in her face

Austen breezes past this to Georgiana’s manners and Bingley’s arrival. There are a couple of discussions of Darcy’s appearance earlier at Pemberley, but entirely held between Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who admire his figure while Elizabeth is consumed by embarrassment. She mentions that it was obvious that he had only just arrived via horse or carriage, but not how she knows this or what she feels about it beyond repeatedly blushing.

Then they meet again, he interacts with the Gardiners for awhile, and Elizabeth and the Gardiners leave. The Gardiners discuss the encounter including Darcy’s appearance, and Mrs Gardiner—who at this point, still thinks Darcy has mistreated Wickham—first concludes that Wickham is handsomer, then immediately re-considers and decides that Darcy has perfect features, but not Wickham’s angelic countenance. She (Mrs Gardiner) goes on, “He[Darcy] has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks.”

Elizabeth does not opine on Darcy’s mouth, lol, and instead defends Darcy’s moral character as far as his financial dealings with Wickham are concerned. We don’t hear much more of it apart from that, and in general, we see Elizabeth’s reactions to Darcy more than we hear about them:

Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest blush.

She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting.

The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and wishes must still be unshaken.

Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for being so silly!

The colour now rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks in the instantaneous conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt

She had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own knowledge. She coloured as she spoke

I do not personally think there can be much reasonable doubt about whether Elizabeth is attracted to Darcy during this phase of the book. But the narrative does dance around it enough (for understandable 1813 reasons, I suspect, given that Elizabeth either dislikes or hates Darcy for a significant portion of the book) that it’s not at all clear when she begins to finds him attractive, especially given that she does not actually see him between receiving the letter and acknowledging his attractiveness at Pemberley. So I think there are multiple valid interpretations or headcanons one could come up with for that.

#fun fact: i started writing this bc i was like 'i want to make a post about something trivial i can be concise about'#rip me i guess #but tbh my personal headcanon is that elizabeth /is/ attracted to darcy for a lot of the book but NOT remotely 'secretly in love' or w/e #people will be like 'if the attraction is mutual then what about her dislike are you saying-'#nope! she hates him. in fact she only hates him more bc he's smart and hot and complicated.#in addition to her conviction that he's a terrible person morally #and then she finds out he's actually okay and then that he's actually GOOD and then that he's made himself even better #elizabeth: i tried infatuation at first sight with wickham. now i shall try grown-up feelings like respect and gratitude #three days later: alas... i could have loved him...#some indeterminate amount of time without actually seeing him later: ...oh. fuck.#(i paraphrase. but honestly while elizabeth's realization that half her sleepless nights are darcy's fault is sad it is also very funny)#but yeah i think elizabeth is extremely wary of where attraction to emotionally unsuitable people goes and just buries all that #but once hte brakes go off she falls FAST #also she's genuinely attracted to three different men over the course of one pretty short novel and i love that for her #anghraine babbles #anghraine's meta #austen blogging #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #otp of otps #pride and prejudice #jane austen #long post

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thingaddams4 · 1 year

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Jiara is definitely endgame I know that for a fact but can the writers at least see the drama potential of Riara? Rafe and Kie had 2 episodes of being partners in crime, and TikTok, Instagram, Youtube and freaking ao3 got to WORK, in making edits and fanfictions of them. And even before that, most fans were already begging the writers to show Kiara's kook year just from crumbs of her small interactions with Rafe. I think a JJ-Kiara-Rafe love triangle has a chance of gaining more popularity than the John B-Sarah-Topper one because let's be honest I think most people are just generally tired of Topper's obsession with Sarah. I'm not even asking them to end up together, just for them to make do with what they already have for season 4 because the chemistry was too good to waste.

#those episodes were the season's highlights c'mon now #one bed trope forced proximity kneeling crying i don't trust the others but you??#it's a crime to just discard all that #I hope he becomes obsessed with her and they don't end up together #riara #rafe and kiara #kiara and rafe #rafe x kie #kie x rafe #otp : pretty hot for a pogue

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nyxi-pixie · 2 years

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mentioned this in my mike never showing interest in women essay but

el literally has more moments where she calls women attractive than mike does💀 CANONICALLY. as far as i remember she calls both nancy and billys mum pretty (im p sure she does it one more time but i dont rlly remember so i might be lying to u here)

whereas mike. literally. only ever calls el pretty(which he hasnt done in over 2 seasons now. idk if he does it in s2 or not but im 90% sure he doesnt in s3 or 4). like. he never acknowledges any other woman being attractive. not fictional characters. not celebrities. not past crushes. nothing. BUT he refers to el as superman. el who hes dating. implying he wants to date superman????? girlie what????

#theyre both gay #elmike are literally mlm wlw solidarity #elmax #byler #its just. megaminds valentines are like omg🥰🥰 my otp<3<3 #and said otp is el calling every woman she ever sees pretty like if she doesnt inform everyone that women are hot she will literally DIE #and mike putting his entire wheelussy into never showing any interest in women.#like literally if el never showed up in s1 looking enough like will that hop was out trying to find her bc she thought it was will #then mike wld literally be so obviously a fruit salad #i mean he is anyway #but hes got this lesbian w him to pretend hes not so idk whatever works for him ig

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smallblueandloud · 5 months

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mentioned to some friends today that someone nailed me as a roy mustang enjoyer a few days ago. none of them knew who he was. tried to convey how hot he is. got told he looks like a teletubby. attempted to find the tower scene where they're flirting over the phone, couldn't find it. showed them the lust fight and none of them got it. finally got home and watched a royai supercut. now i'm having royai feels alone at night and three of my friends think my taste in men is even more unhinged than it actually is. this feels like an L

#also pretty sure i'm sick so this feels even more insulting #sb and l rambles #sb and l watches fmab #otp: i'd follow you into hell if you asked #can you imagine they didn't think roy was hot. yes one of them was a lesbian but THE OTHER TWO #tried to at LEAST argue that riza's hot as fuck. one of them was skeptically like ''but she's blonde''#me: yeah i know i am also not generally attracted to blondes. she's my exception #friend: my only exception is that woman from atlantis #me: RIZA IS A BETTER VERSION OF THAT WOMAN FROM ATLANTIS #do you guys see what i'm dealing with here.#essbie does college

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jmaxsword · 1 year

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Favorite Blueshipping Art

Credits to the Original Artist

#otp #yugioh #seto kaiba #blue eyes white dragon #blueshipping #kisara #seto kaiba x kisara #seto and his pretty dragon wifu #hot #yu gi oh #absolute ship

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myforeverworldofmovies · 2 years

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endless list of my favourite couples:

11. Vivian & Edward (pretty woman)

#*#pretty woman #movie #endless list of my favourite couples #vivian ward #edward lewis #vivian x edward #otp #julia roberts #richard gere #babies #so hot beautiful and cute

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roraruu · 8 months

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YOTO: July

Leonie/Bernadetta. Stars/friends to enemies to lovers.

The first time Bernadetta spots Leonie out by the little fishing lake is after Jeralt dies.

She sits on the edge of the dock, with her naked toes just grazing the surface to barely kiss the water.

Bernadetta originally snuck out of her room to snag some cake from the mess hall. But as she was creeping along the path, humming to herself, she heard a sniffle, then a sigh and saw Leonie seated there at the dock.

Bernadetta doesn’t talk to her, just observes her from her perfect little hiding spot outside Petra’s room. The shadows shield her enough from Leonie’s view. It’s been raining for the last few days so the air is very humid and there’s little relief; but the sky has opened up and there’s only wispy remnants of storm colours.

Bernadetta has never seen the stars shine so brightly. Varley is an arid region, but the skies are mostly covered by smoke from the factories that produce their weapons. Swords and scriptures, that’s what her people are known for.

She wants to open her mouth to ask if Leonie’s okay, because Bernadetta concerned and Leonie is Leonie. She’s like a hornet, strong, fast, zippy. Once, when she was sitting in on a lancing lecture to pass a horse backing riding exam—mandatory as she skipped so many of her assigned shifts in the stables—Leonie got hit several times by Dimitri of all people and did nothing more than stagger back and yell at him “again”. She even went as far as to taunt him, asking “is that all you got?”

Something inside Bernadetta—probably her anxiety—tells her that this is treacherous.

Maybe Leonie doesn’t want visitors? Maybe she came out here for peace and air?

Before she knows it, she’s calling out her name softly. “Leonie? Are you… um… okay?”

There’s a distinctly snotty sound and then Leonie vehemently insisting she’s alright, she’s okay in a salty, tear-streaked voice that insists she’s not okay.

Bernadetta stands in the dark night and says, “I don’t… um… know what you’re going through but uh… M-Maybe cake would help?”

“Cake?”

Bernadetta feels stupid. “Ye-Yeah. Cake always makes me feel a little better. And watching the stars.”

Leonie pauses.

“I-I was just going to go watch some. B-But maybe we could. Um. Watch the stars together?”

“That sounds good.” Leonie’s voice is small.

Bernadetta hurries and gets two slabs of cake—eating a bit of hers on the walk back—some stale cookies and thermos of tea to bring back to Leonie. She settles in beside her, but not to close and pushes the cake and cookies closer to her. Leonie finds it in her to laugh, and says “You can come closer, Bernadetta, I’m just crying, not sick.”

Bernadetta sheepishly slides closer along the dock. Panic rises inside her but it feels different this time. She fights back and tells it that it will not best her. “A-Are you okay?” Then admonishes herself. “S-Stupid Bernie, of course you’re not okay…”

“No, don’t worry.” Leonie runs a hand over her face, pushing back her bangs. “I’m just missing Jeralt. Captain… Captain Jeralt.”

“Oh.”

“He was sorta like a dad to me.” Leonie confesses softly, then mutters, “but I guess you figured that out already.”

“Sorta, yeah.”

There’s a silence between the two of them for a moment before Bernadetta squeezes her eyes shut tight and says, “I called Alois ‘Dad’ by accident.”

Leonie’s brow furrows and she sputters out a little choked laugh that’s obviously half-forced, half-genuine. “Do I wanna know?”

“Um… my father… He isn’t good to me.” She’s careful with her words, for she thinks that they’ll get back to him somehow. “Alois reminded me of my uncle, Francois. I always felt comfortable around him… I called him father a few times.”

Leonie looks at her like she understands what Bernadetta means. Her hand clasps over Bernadetta’s and for once—and at the perfect time—Bernadetta doesn’t flinch. “My old man wasn’t good to me either. Jeralt was.”

“We’re lucky to have them… Aren’t we?” Bernadetta asks.

Leonie’s voice cracks again. “Yeah. We are.”

“Stars are pretty tonight.” Bernadetta says.

Leonie nods. “Yeah. They are.”

—

Leonie is dragging Bernadetta back to her horse. Well, not dragging, but leading her back with her hand in Bernadetta’s. It’s late at night, after lights out. Leonie insists that she’s found the perfect spot to stargaze and when Leonie is right, she is right.

Bernadetta is shy and nervous and demure and ladylike. When Leonie told her of the plan during the lecture on tactics during battle, Bernadetta’s eyes sparkled in wonder and she murmured in curiosity if it was the same spot that Caspar took her to. She brought a little fabric knot of snacks—stolen hard cheese and bread—and her sketchbook with some thick charcoals.

“W-Would you let me draw you?” Bernadetta asks nervously. Leonie can’t help but think she looks pretty with that crimson blush and wide eyes. In the back of her mind, she wishes that Bernadetta was a little braver, not for Leonie but for herself.

“I’ve never had someone draw me.” Leonie muses. “So yeah, of course.”

The horse is tied up beneath a tree and Leonie half expects to be posed like an elegant lady—in the back of her mind, she wishes that Bernadetta does that, fluffing up her messy hair, lacing her hands in her lap, tilting her chin up while murmuring ‘now look at me’. But her hair is short and her face is round and her clothes are mismatched compared to Bernadetta’s pretty eyelet nightgown and the little sweater over top of it.

Bernadetta is on her feet and pulls her up, she’s much stronger than Leonie expected. She drags Leonie next to the horse and then instructs her to braid its mane. “Or whatever you do around them. Just act natural.” Bernadetta insists. Her voice is giddy. “Like you’re just in the stables.”

Leonie does so, but it’s hard to act natural when Bernadetta’s big eyes are focused on her. But they’re not focused on her per se; they’re focused on a spot next to her, in a space that isn’t hers. Does that make sense?

In a half hour, Bernadetta has a sketch and is showing Leonie it as they eat stolen cheese and bread and gaze at the stars. “I-It’s not even my best work.” Bernadetta says. “It looks quite bad really. Oh goddess you hate it—”

Leonie rests a hand on Bernadetta’s shoulder. “No, Bernadetta. I love it.”

Bernadetta’s face goes red and she hides her face in her hands in embarrassment. She murmurs something unintelligible, and when Leonie asks her again, Bernadetta practically yells, “I’ll come to Sauin and paint you proper someday!”

That makes Leonie smile for real, perhaps for the first time since Jeralt died.

—

Bernadetta isn’t a gambler, but when she does play cards, she’s a shark. Her mind is hardwired for mathematics, for chance and probability. It’s probably why she’s so good at judging when to run and hide and when it play it safe.

Leonie however, likes to gamble only when she knows she’ll win. And while she and Bernadetta are friends, one of them is rich and the other is very poor. Leonie looks like she’s got the upper hand, a cute little smirk and sharp glimpse of the eye, and Bernadetta pulls out a 15-ten, launching her ahead of Leonie and into the final peg.

Leonie sighs and hands slides the little gold marks to Bernadetta. “You’re too good at this.” She sighs. “Crib isn’t my game.”

“Don’t say that.” Bernadetta insists, taking the change and rattling it in her hand. “I th-think I have enough to get us some tea.”

“We can have tea back under the gazebo. The professor won’t mind sharing some leaves, and I’m sure if you ask Lorenz for a teapot he’ll lend it. He’s got like twenty or something. Probably.”

Bernadetta pouts and shakes her head. “I won! I want to treat you.”

“Isn’t that a waste of money?”

“Shouldn’t you hush and let me treat you?”

Leonie can’t fight the logic in that and shuts up. But before they can get down to the tea shop down below in town, Bernadetta’s anxiety spikes. “I don’t think I can do it.” She mumbles and grabs Leonie’s hand for support.

Both girls blush hard. Bernadetta feels a little stronger when Leonie squeezes it back and tells her that it’s okay, that they can to another time. But Bernadetta is adamant. She wants to give Leonie something. They pass a flower seller and Bernadetta, overcome with energy and courage actually asks the seller for a bouquet of sunflowers. Her words come out in one breath, in sentences that linger along and make Leonie wonder why she’s never like this around her. Bernadetta comes running back with an armful of stalky blooming sunflowers that reflect their golden-yellow light back onto her pallid face.

She thrusts them at Leonie and says, “H-Here! For you!”

Leonie’s never had flowers given to her before. Back home in Sauin when Saint Cethleann day hit—which was typically recognized as a day to celebrate forms of love—people would always exchange flowers. Leonie never got a single one, aside from her mother but that doesn’t really count.

Leonie blushes hard and takes them from Bernadetta, murmuring a barely audible, “thank you.” Bernadetta must not notice her blush, for she turned away quickly. It’s a huge stack and Leonie plucks one, a small one that was plucked before it had fully bloomed so the petals are still small and holds it out to Bernadetta.

“But they’re for you.” She protests.

“And I’m giving you one.”

Bernadetta vehemently refuses, all the way up to the monastery. That night, when Leonie’s doing a final walk before bed, she takes the small sunflower and leaves it out in front of Bernadetta’s door.

The next morning, when Leonie’s the first one up and doing her morning stretches, she walks past Bernadetta’s door and smiles when she sees the sunflower gone.

—

Bernadetta is hiding behind a table of hors d’oeuvres at the ball. She hasn’t danced yet, refuses everyone until Leonie comes over and takes her hand and pulls her to the floor. Bernadetta was never a great dancer, always too jumpy and quick, which is why she’s probably a great archer. Leonie’s always been light on her feet but uncoordinated when it comes to dancing.

So instead of the floor, where they’ll surely bump into people and piss them off, Leonie takes Bernadetta outside where they spin in the grass and collapse in the blades laughing and dizzy.

And then, as Bernadetta’s about to get up, Leonie leans in and kisses her.

It’s a short burst of a first kiss that makes both girls burn bright red and their hearts pound so loudly that they can hear it in their ears.

All Leonie can think of is “Oh goddess, oh fuck I’m so stupid, oh goddess,” in a repetitive loop.

Meanwhile, Bernadetta is staring off into space like she’s zoning out, her mind awash with “Well, everything makes sense now.”

Leonie’s mouth opens to apologize, to sputter out apologies like what Bernadetta would do; but as she begins to speak, the words die against Bernadetta’s lips as she kisses her again and again.

—

“The stars are prettier in Sauin.” Leonie says.

Bernadetta can’t help but believe her. They’re probably so much prettier against the open fields and bright skies. Wildflowers in the vale. The skies in Varley are shit in comparison, always covered up and smoky.

“I want to see them one day.” Bernadetta tells her.

Leonie presses a kiss against her temple. “I’ll show you. Promise, Bern.”

Bernadetta curls into her chest, her arms snaking around Leonie’s waist tightly. Leonie laughs and it reverberates through Bernadetta’s entire body. She feels warm, she feels at home.

“I’ll hold you to it, Sunflower.”

—

Leonie developed a taste for alcohol young. From fine brandy to shitty moonshine, she isn’t picky. But she honestly prefers it in her mouth instead of washing it over open wounds.

She’s had a stash of gin—not her favourite but it does the trick pretty quick—that’s just right to clean broken skin and wounds. She keeps it stashed in her boot, probably negating its purpose.

The arrow is lodged in Bernadetta’s thigh and she’s been unconscious for a while. She slumped over into Leonie and her grip went limp about twenty miles away from Varley Manor. Edelgard had ordered them to retreat if things looked bad, and things really started looking bad. Leonie had a feeling that the monastery would be either taken by the church and kingdom or overrun with wounded so she ran. It was the bravest thing she could do.

Leonie grabbed Bernadetta by the waist and hauled her up onto her horse, ignoring her yelp and her cries that Petra was left behind, that Petra was going to die and leave her siblings behind, that she needs to help Petra—

Leonie had grabbed Bernadetta’s hands and told her, in a low tone, a warning tone, a tone that she hated, “We can’t help Petra if we die.”

That sobered Bernadetta up. “I’ll guide Bennet. You focus on protecting Petra.” Leonie ordered.

Bernadetta nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. The two became a cohesive unit—Leonie guiding the horse, Bernadetta nocking arrows and protecting Petra from a distance as best as she could. Leonie circled around the town of Garreg Mach, fully intending to get back up to where Petra was so that Bernadetta could take Bennet and speed off to safety and Leonie could jump off and help Petra, who was surrounded.

Just as they were rounding the battlefield, another archer came outta nowhere. They missed Leonie but hit Bernadetta with a shrieking cry that made Leonie’s ears pop and Bernadetta drops her bow and cuss loudly.

Instincts drove Leonie to get the fuck off the field. Healers were scarce and her own vulnerary stash was near-depleted from a particularly nasty hit from Alois, who had nearly taken out Bernadetta. Leonie had seen it coming, saw the panic and fear in Bernadetta’s eyes, and remembered that one time, down at the lake, where Bernadetta recalled how similar he was to her uncle.

So Leonie had jumped in, Leonie had taken the hit and then knocked the shit out of Alois, ignoring the fact that he had a wife and child at home, ignoring the connection he had with Bernadetta, ignoring the fact that he had mentored her in axe-throwing when she first got to the academy.

Ignoring that he too had lost Jeralt.

Leonie snapped the reins and directed Bennet—who had been startled by Bernadetta’s high-pitched scream—away from the field.

“Okay Bernie, okay,” Leonie’s voice was uneasy, and she was trying her best to make it calm. Bennet got scared and in between soothing Bernadetta and the horse, Leonie was stretched thin. “Talk about something. Tell me anything, come on, Bernie!”

Bernadetta was half-sobbing, half-screaming and began spilling the entire story of a five-part saga about a hunter and a princess, a Cinderella story of sorts. Leonie took the reins in one hand and searched for the vulnerary that she tucked into her pockets and fished it out. She handed it back to Bernadetta who chugged the rest of it and cringed.

When Leonie realizes that the gin is in her pocket.—Leonie kept her talking by asking about the book she’s writing. Each time her voice got too faint, Leonie would shift the reins into one hand and clutch Bernadetta’s arm hard and ask, more like yelling over the hoofbeats, “okay Bern, what happens next? What happens next?”

When Bernadetta doesn’t answer, Leonie panics. Leonie isn’t used to panicking. Her mind goes through the motions of control, of what’s right, what’s logical.

We need to stop.

She pulls hard on the reins and the horse halts, whinnying in protest. Leonie hops down from the horse and Bernadetta almost falls.

Leonie braces Bernadetta and helps her down as best she can. In a panic, Leonie undoes the cloak around her waist and bunches it up to make a shitty little cushion. She tucks it under Bernadetta’s hips. Elevation. Elevation is key.

She searches for a pulse, her breath. She’s breathing but shallow, and her pulse is weak.

Leonie stumbles over cusses. The vulnerary only did so much, and it wasn’t enough. First aid, she needs first aid. But pulling the arrow out makes a breeding ground for infection. And pulling out the arrow is not a good idea for the extra blood loss.

Now, she’s wishing she paid more attention to Lorenz in between his patronizing comments and remarks as he tried to teach her white magic. Leonie was almost hopeless. Guy was a jerk most of the time but he knew what he was talking out.

All she has is here and now. Stop the bleeding. She orders herself. She has to stop the bleeding before Bernadetta’s weak pulse goes flat and she stops breathing.

Leonie grabs the cloak and bunches it around the arrowhead. Bernadetta’s body flinches instinctively and Leonie feels uncomfortable hope. Don’t get ahead of yourself Pinelli. She warns.

The professor would know what to do. She keeps thinking that Byleth would tell her what to do. But Professor Byleth is back on the front lines with Edelgard.

She dodges those thoughts as deftly as she can and searches the packs for alcohol. Leonie developed a taste for alcohol pretty young. Bernadetta did too, though she can’t hold her booze.

Leonie waterfalls it into her mouth and bitter, intense juniper and florals run over her tongue to take the edge off, breathes a sigh and steadies herself.

“I’m sorry Bern.” She says before dousing her thigh in gin. Before the alcohol washes over her broken skin, Leonie is murmuring white magic spells, tripping over the words and half-crying because she can’t lose Bernadetta. She can’t. Bernadetta has to live because Leonie’s lost too much already—

Bernadetta shocks awake and stares at Leonie, eyes dazed and unable to hold Leonie as her focus. Leonie doesn’t care. Instead she’s sobbing and clutching onto Bernadetta and praising the all stars in the sky that the stupid spell worked.

—

Bernadetta tries to slow her thundering heart but she can’t. Camping sounded more fun on the first night, but after a week, her back is aching and she’s struggling to find a comfortable way to stretch out without kicking Leonie.

The idea, at first, was to try and get to Varley where they could hide out. Bernadetta remembers a few empty houses that they could wait out in for a few days until the monastery is recovered and they can contact the professor.

But after a few days, Bernadetta sends a message by express to the professor asking for instructions and gets nothing back. And worse, every time she tries to remember the way home to Varley it gets foggier. She’s blocked part of it out, the pathways and vale that’s cloaked in thick, jet-black pines. It would be easier if she could just fucking remember.

She begins to get worried when Leonie gets frustrated with her inability to remember. Leonie will ask questions over and over, trying to figure out a solution, but each time Bernadetta cries out that she doesn’t know or can’t remember, Leonie’s patience burns away.

At least they’re going back into imperial territory. Most of the noble houses bound together and are in agreement to fight against the church and Kingdom, but there’s still dissenters and Bernadetta is constantly on the edge of a panic attack.

Their plan becomes treacherous and after a week of camping with stolen blankets and in dirty clothes, Bernadetta is done.

“I can’t remember the way home.” She says into Leonie’s back.

Leonie stirs a little. Her voice is distant. “You can’t?”

”No.”

“Seriously?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, Leonie, I can’t.”

“Can you remember the path you took up to the monastery.”

“No.” Bernadetta’s voice gets shaky. “I… I was pretty much shoved in a bag and carried there, I remember nothing. I’m sorry Leonie, I’m sorry.”

Leonie sighs and sits up. Bernadetta stares at her frame, lit by the stars. Her freckles melt into her skin and disappear; shame, for they were Bernadetta’s favourite part of her, they looked like a tiny sky painted across her cheeks and down her neck.

“Then you have to go back to Edelgard.”

Bernadetta sits up. “M-Me? What about you?”

Leonie is cold and quiet. “I can’t go back.” Her voice is defeated. “Claude needs me.”

“You’re deserting? She’ll kill you.“ Bernadetta says desperately. Her hand finds Leonie’s and holds it tight. “Leo, I can’t—I-I-I won’t… Don’t…”

Leonie’s arm comes around her shoulder for a moment and she feels her lips brush her hair. “I’ll run with you. I’ll run! W-We can figure something else out! We can go to the kingdom.”

“They know you’re with Edelgard.” Leonie warns. “The second someone sees you, or recognizes you, you’re done.”

“But I don’t… I can’t. I can’t be away from you, Leonie.” Bernadetta holds her gaze. The words jumble in her throat, thicken her tongue and take forever to come out but Leonie is patient. “You make me strong.”

Leonie just stares and holds her hand, her calloused thumb running over the back of Bernadetta’s palm. She’s quiet, gentle and attentive as Bernadetta attempts to regain herself and fails horribly. Bernadetta wants to collapse into Leonie’s arms and sob and yell that it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair.

“We’ll make it someday.” Leonie promises her. “We’ll just wait and see, okay? I know this isn’t the end, I know it, Bern.”

Bernadetta feels her world come crashing down on her, but Leonie’s holding it up like she always does. She’s always so cool under pressure, nothing ever gets to her and it’s one of the reasons why Bernadetta is so intrigued by her.

“We’ll head back to the monastery tomorrow.” Leonie decides. “How’s your leg?”

“Fine. I’ll survive.”

It still hurts a lot, and Bernadetta’s moving slower than she should but the important thing is that she’s alive. She would’ve been dead without Leonie. Soon enough, Leonie won’t be there to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.

“They’ll take care of it better, I’m sure they have the supplies.”

Tears prick at Bernadetta’s eyes. Her arms slither around Leonie’s waist. She hugs Leonie tight, trying to remember how she’s all strength, all hard edges and sinewy muscle. Every since really taking archery seriously, Bernadetta’s slowly become like that, but village life and planting and sowing and hunting since she was a kid has sculpted Leonie into that mould.

Bernadetta focuses on the feeling of Leonie’s body against hers, her steady breathing, the rhythmic gentle thud of her heart. Bernadetta focuses on that for a long, long time until Leonie melts into sleep—she’s always been a better camper than Bernadetta—then slowly extracts herself from around Leonie.

She gets up, empties her pockets of her change, they were playing an anxious game of cribbage, trying to pass the time before the attack on the monastery, and leaves her entire coin purse of cribbage winnings by Leonie’s head, writing in the dirt, You win, Sunflower.

She says goodbye to Bennet, leaves all the rations they collected and her cloak because Leonie will surely need it and leaves the campground without looking back.

—

In five years, Bernadetta throws herself on Edelgard’s mercy; Leonie does the same with Claude. Naturally, as both are skilled fighters, they’re accepted back into the fold.

Edelgard keeps a close eye on Bernadetta to make sure she doesn’t run and hide. Claude makes sure that Lorenz, who has employed Leonie as a mercenary out of the knowledge of his father, keeps tabs on her.

Bernadetta doesn’t dare send a letter to Leonie, though she writes many and addresses them to the hearth in her room. Leonie doesn’t either, because she goes where the money goes.

But soon enough, five years lapse and the war goes full tilt.

—

Leonie is thrown from her horse. Bennet, the dumb bastard, rears up when Raphael lets out a roar to gas himself up. The battle��s barely started and she’s already half-concussed. The one fucking battle, that is the most important and she’s already messed up.

Leonie forces herself up into the saddle and follows Claude’s orders. She and Raphael are on the front line, their job is to cut a path through so that their reinforcements—mages—can sneak in and set fire to the field.

It all goes to plan, Leonie cuts down allies and enemies alike, their faces and bodies bleeding together like paint.

There, across the field she sees Bernadetta at the ballista. She looks different. Stronger, more mature, there’s a fire in her eyes that Leonie never saw before and she keeps murmuring, that can’t be Bernadetta, that can’t be her. It can’t be.

Then it occurs to Leonie that she’s on the bridge they’re going to set fire to.

Bernadetta, who left her in the ruins of a ravaged town. Bernadetta, who she thought would have died long ago. Bernadetta, who she would never have imagined in a thousand years to be here, on the front line at the Battle of Gronder Field.

Before she realizes it, Leonie is barrelling towards Bernadetta, screaming her name like it’s the only words she knows. She’s breathless, her lungs burning like hell as she pushes poor Bennet, faster, faster, faster.

She feels an arrow graze her shoulder. From the corner of her eye, Leonie sees crimson seep through her shirt sleeve and she cusses. Bernadetta nocks another one and screams at her to stop or she’ll shoot again. There’s a wild look in her eyes, a dangerous look, a look that says, “we have unfinished business”.

Leonie feels a lurch of anxiety and stops short of dismounting Bennet.

There’s a tense moment of eye contact as Leonie drinks in how Bernadetta has changed. Her hair is different, like she’s finally gotten used to using a hair brush, and she’s taller, much taller, almost as tall as Leonie herself. And she looks mature in a bad way, in a way that gives her dark circles beneath her eyes and quaking hands. She doesn’t look like the Bernadetta that she kissed, the Bernadetta that she shared secrets with, the Bernadetta that she loved and still loves.

She must have gone back to her father. Leonie shivers as she thinks it.

There’s the din of swords and shields. Leonie almost drops her lance. Bennet grows anxious with all the fighting.

“They’re gonna light this on fire.” Leonie tells her against the deafening sound. “If not them, us. You have to move.”

Bernadetta stares at her. “You said they’d protect me.”

“I was wrong!” Leonie cries out desparately. “I was so fucking wrong! I should have protected you. But you should have stayed! All you had to do was stay!”

Bernadetta’s eyes flicker behind her. She keeps the bowstring pulled tight as Leonie gets off Bennet and then lets it fly into Leonie’s shoulder. It lands hard and Bernadetta drops her bow, immediately realizing what she’s done.

She’s swearing, half screaming the words and then a cacophony of Oh goddess, oh Goddess, but all Leonie can think about is that she’s missed that anxious little voice and then realizes, “Oh fuck. You shot me.”

Bernadetta is stumbling over apologies before taking action. Like years before, but now in reverse, Bernadetta hauls Leonie on the back of Bennet and snaps the reins hard. She yells at Leonie to tell her about Sauin Village, about her home, about her travels, and Leonie, while feeling the blood ooze from her shoulder and the cloud of adrenaline fade from her mind, can talk only of the stars back in Sauin as they desert Gronder Field and their armies.

—

Bernadetta, Eternal Loner Leonie, Blade Breaker II

After fleeing Gronder, Bernadetta and Leonie were said to be spotted on the run for many, many years, though no official documents or records state this. Folk songs and rumours suggest that they became some sort of heroes to everyday folk, and The Ballad of the Bear and the Hornet, can be found in many children’s books.

Reports exist that an older woman with a fair amount of battle scars could be spotted inside taverns and pubs with many a great story to tell. These fun nights would follow promptly with a woman who only referred to herself as Bear, coming in to pay her wife’s tab and give her apologies.

Bonus CF Ending: Upon inheriting House Varley, Bernadetta completed her duties in solitude. When Leonie was called to dispatch some bandits, she and Bernadetta reunited and ended up staying together. Leonie became captain of her personal guard and Bernadetta ascended to become a wise, caring and authoritative leader with Leonie’s help. It was rumoured that in the early days of their relationship, Leonie would sit in and warn visiting dignitaries and politicians to mind their manners when Bernadetta was speaking with a weapon at hand; in respect to this, Bernadetta gave her a golden dagger, engraved with the name Sunflower.

#ru writes #3h #fanfiction #I got super fucked up today about bern and leonie and this just came out #Leobern #I can’t be the only one who thinks they’Re neat ok #leonie pinelli #bernadetta von varley #These poor girls are super fucked up and i want them to be ok #Tw abuse #i get the vibe that Leonie’s dad is pretty absent hence the attachment to Jeralt #And we know Gregoire is gonna get the folding chair if Leonie ever sees him #I usually hc bern as a beautiful bi lady but in this she spends 18 years of her life wondering why every man she meets she thinks is mid #EXCEPTING RAPHAEL KIRSTEN #But the second leonie kisses her she’s like “OH. OHHHHHH OK OK I GET IT NOW!!!” As if she didn’t see Petra and Edie and Dorothea and didn’t #Think: wow these girls are so pretty i mean beautiful i mean hot i mean—#year of the otp

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rodpower78 · 1 year

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This man is literally my heart.

TK Strand

#tk strand #quote #carlos reyes #tarlos #911 lone star #fox #tk and carlos #otp: we make a pretty good team #he is literally his heart #i absolutely love this #episode 4x02 #the new hot mess

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hydesjackiespuddinpop · 2 years

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Kurtbastian AND quinncedes for the ask game!!

ship: ew / nonono / maybe / ship it / aww / otp / MY HEART

#married

ship: ew / nonono / maybe / ship it / aww / otp / MY HEART

i miss these bitchy gfs

#answered #tthankstoyou #otp: smirky meerkat #ship: a two time thing #i think it was their banter that drew me in #or the humor vid #and quinntana for a while i could only see them as besties but found their one night stand hot #but now i'm pretty into the as a midgame when their both adults and got their shit together #thanks for the ask!#ana 🎂

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neroushalvaus · 5 months

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Tumblr in the 60s

☮ monkeewholock follow

🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈

🐞 homophilespock follow

SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK

🚀 starrfleet follow

They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.

📻 lesbianbobdylan follow

Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass

10,8 t. notes

🌻 flowerpower follow

Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes

🌻 flowerpower follow

...i just woke up, why is my askbox full

🌻 flowerpower follow

WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED

🌻 flowerpower follow

guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed

290,9 t. notes

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

easy website

58,1 t. notes

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you

🗣 lavendermenaceisreal-deactivated72537262

Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Oh no I think she couldn't handle that

77 notes

✌ draftdodgerdyke

DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

You should be ashamed of yourself.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

huh??

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Jesus, don't flip your wig

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.

#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft

587 notes

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus

idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.

🚷 to-hell-with-the-beatles follow

How dare you say we piss on the poor?? Jesus died for Mr Lennon's sins and it's not "cancelling" to send him a few respectably worded death threats to remind him of that. He cancelled our Lord first!

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post

6,008 notes

🛼 donovandyke follow

I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!

0 notes

🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287

Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!

🥁 ringoforpresident follow

it literally does tho

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Another win for us hot guys

17,2 t. notes

#how do i TAG THIS #can i just tag this ''funny'' or is that patting myself on the back too much #memes #dashboard meme #dash meme #1960s #my friend tirlittan came up with ''draftdodgerdyke''#i want that fictional blogger carnally #funny #tumblr in the 60s

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abushelandablog · 1 year

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HOTTEST COUPLE ITS TRUE

#GODAMN #LIKE THIS IS THE STUFF OF DREAMS DREAMS I TELL YOU #ITS QUIET AINT NO BACK TALK #obx spoilers #rafe cameron #ck spoilers #kiara carrera #madison bailey #obx #riara #drew starkey #otp: pretty hot for a pogue

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anghraine · 2 years

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I’ve talked about my intense dislike of the “Elizabeth’s feelings for Darcy consist entirely of dispassionate respect for his moral character and faithfulness and landscaping choices” interpretation. However, closely related:

“Elizabeth comes to respect/love Darcy because he’s principled and responsible and loyal. Of course he can’t keep up with her intellectually, but he’s steady and reliable, and P&P highlights the value of that in a husband over wit.”

perish

#this is more of an academia take than a fandom take but it's been annoying me since i got into austen lit-crit in high school #there's one essay that concedes that darcy's dry responses to caroline are actually pretty witty in their way #and that this suggests he and elizabeth speak the same language #...but this is in a footnote and the whole thing about how darcy can't /really/ match her is in the main body so >_<#it's actually a pretty common take though—or at least used to be #austen: *switches to omniscient narration to tell us that bingley is intellectually fine 'but darcy was clever'*#critics: suddenly i can't read #anghraine babbles #austen fanwank #austen blogging #lady anne blogging #fitzwilliam darcy #elizabeth bennet #otp of otps #anghraine rants #honestly i think some people find p&p disturbing because it's neither vacuous nor didactic #austen gives elizabeth a love interest who is difficult and complicated but also noble and responsible and principled and loving yes #...but also young and smart and hot and rich and powerful bc elizabeth gets it ALL #i mean i do think that's a big part of the 'point' in having darcy be so extra #elizabeth compromises nothing and gets everything

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chryblossomjjk · 1 year

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midnight mistakes | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING: m/18+

⇢ WC: 2.5k

⇢ WARNINGS: v brief sm*t, v slight angst, oc is sick rip, pregnancy scare putting their relationship to the test eep!!!, brief mentions of abortion (reader considers it)

⇢ SUMMARY: a midnight romp with jungkook leads to tears on your cheeks and a pregnancy test in your hand

⇢ NOTES: i miss writing sm so here's a lil drabble of our otp :') school has been v overwhelming lately and it makes me so sad that i don't have as much time to write on here anymore. hopefully, things will calm down soon. for now, enjoy this crumb!! i love you all, let me know what you think!! if you haven't read the series yet, pls read that before this if u want to!! this wasn't beta'd so i apologize for any grammar issues or typos rip

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

The sequence of events that landed you in this situation; having a teary, heaving breakdown in front of your bathroom mirror, was absolutely ridiculous, to say the least.

“I’m gonna kill someone,” you squeak, breathless from the endless stream of sneezes ripping through you. The glow of the alarm clock on your nightstand reads 1 a.m. as you reach for a tissue. Violently blowing your nose does little to ease its congestion. With a shaky sigh, you crumple the sodden napkin and toss it into the bin beside your bed; overthrown by contents alike. The wet ball hits the paper mountain before rolling onto your pretty pink area rug.

You shiver, how fucking disgusting.

A stressful week of labs and quizzes has tanked your immune system, making you susceptible to all the little germs and illnesses that strike when the brisk winter air transitions into the pollen-laced breeze of spring. The antibiotics you were prescribed did little to help your runny nose and sore throat. Pausing the anime playing on your phone, you open your messages.

dumbo love you, get some rest please xx

So much for getting rest. You weren’t expecting a text back. Jungkook had offered to spend the night, but you encouraged him to go. It was his last semester after all. Still, you were pouty and needy, wanting nothing more than to snuggle into his arms and let the swirls of his delicate fingers on your back lull you to sleep. Instead, here you were, confined to your bed, watching Naruto solo as Jungkook, Tae, and Mina lived it up; taking shots until they were belligerent.

A distinguishable knock rattles the door before you can press play again.

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook stands in your doorway, oversized black tee hanging over his equally oversized green cargo pants. His cute little mullet falls in sweaty loops around his face. “Still feelin’ like shit?” He coos, cringing at your disheveled appearance and the croak in your voice. Ignoring your question, he holds up the various items in his big hands. “I picked up a few things; cough drops—not the cherry kind ‘cause those are fucking nasty,” you laugh at the side note, “—extra spicy ramen and hot sauce to clear out your sinuses.”

Your peer at the array of remedies with wide eyes. Their ability to cure your flu symptoms is questionable. You don’t even have a way of boiling water to make said ramen in your cramped dorm, but the sentiment has your chest swelling with something other than a violent cough for the first time in days. Abruptly, you pull him into a tight embrace.

“Ah, I see,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and walking you back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. “My Bambi missed me.”

“I did,” you nuzzle into him further, “but you shouldn’t be here… you should be having fun with your friends.”

“Nah, fuck ‘em,” he retorts playfully, putting the quote-unquote medicine down and then plopping onto the bed, taking you with him. “Besides, what kind of shit boyfriend ditches their sick girlfriend to go to a party anyways?”

“The kind that should be enjoying his last semester,” you frown.

“I am, though. I enjoy spending time with you more than anything else.”

As he lays under you, black tresses splayed against your white comforter like a misshapen halo, you feel so incredibly lucky. Gently, you run your fingers through his choppy bangs, pushing them out of his doe eyes. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not really, just a couple shots of Fireball and a few beers.” That much alcohol would have knocked you on your lightweight ass, but after years of beer pong and keg stands, Jungkook’s tolerance was damn near Kage level. It took a lot more than that to get him drunk. “I kinda…” he averts your gaze, something he does when he’s sad or guilty. “I felt really bad so I left.”

“Jungkook, I told you it was okay.”

“I know,” he nods, sliding a warm palm under your shirt, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing lines. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Using your fingertip, you brush an eyelash off the apple of his cheek. “Thank you… for coming back for me.”

“Of course, Bambi.” He leans up and presses a deep kiss to your dehydrated lips.

“Kook, stop,” you mumble, craning your neck back. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I don’t care.”

It doesn’t take much convincing. If Jungkook doesn’t care, why should you?

What follows is a battle of warm tongues and the needy clash of his bunny teeth against yours. Tender touches coax your Sailor Moon pajama set to the floor with the promise of Jungkook’s delicious love. Before you know it, you’re sinking down onto his hard length, fingers digging into his shoulders as he slouches against your headboard.

“Take it all,” he whispers, jaw slacking as he tilts his head down, getting a clear view of your wet cunt swallowing the remaining few inches. A slick film coats the two fingers he used to hold himself up for you as your lip pillow around the base. “Yeah, just like that.” His face contorts in pleasure, overcome by your warm, slippery walls after a week of illness-induced celibacy. “Feels good, huh baby? Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

He wants praise and dirty talk, but the tickle in your nose makes you pause, bracing yourself as a slew of sneezes pours out of you. Eight sneezes to be exact. Jungkook’s high-pitched cackle is drowned out by a shriek as you cup your hand over your leaking nostrils. “EW!”

“Shut up, it’s fine!” He grabs a tissue from the nearly empty box. “Lemme see,” he mumbles, pulling your hand down and wiping it clean, then doing the same to your face afterward and tossing the kleenex in your glittery pink trash bin.

“I’m sorry,” you peep, completely mortified.

“Don’t worry.” The crooked bunny grin eases your nerves. “That was fire, actually. You clenched around me so tight.”

You squint at him and then bury your head into the crook of his neck. You make love to each other; slow and gentle. At one point, Jungkook locks his tattooed fingers in between yours, pecking your bare shoulder as lazy drags of your hips bring you both to writhing climaxes. And he looks so beautiful when he climaxes, gnawing at his lip piercing, skin dewy from sweat and the moonlight shining through the blinds.

At that moment, you felt nothing but love and pure ecstasy.

Isn’t it funny how pleasures of the past can create complete devastation in the present?

Clutching the edge of the porcelain sink, you stare down at the pink box of pregnancy tests. There’s tear stains on your cheeks. A pain in your lungs from all the sobbing. You wish Jungkook had been a shit boyfriend that night. You’d give anything to take it all back.

Like a sixth sense, there’s a distinguishable knock at the door.

“Hey, I-” he stops short, brows furrowing as his dark pupils scan your face. “Have you been crying?��

“What do you think?” You shouldn’t snap at him, but the waves of anxiety washing over you make you highly sensitive. Truthfully, you weren’t going to tell Jungkook any of this. His showing up had put an awful wrench in your plans. Well, unless the test came back positive. Then, you’d be forced to tell him. You clamp your hand over your mouth, the thought making you sick to your stomach.

“__, take a deep breath. Sit down.” You do and he follows suit. “What's going on?”

“I-” you gulp, swallowing back a whine, struggling to form a coherent sentence. There’s no escape, you have to confess. “I think I might be pregnant.”

There’s an eerie silence once the words hit the air, lingering over you both like a dark, dreary cloud. It takes Jungkook a moment to internalize the weight of the situation, but you can tell when the thunder strikes. The pink tinge in his cheeks fades to a stark, sickly white as he inhales shakily. “Fuck-” Leaning his elbows against his knees, he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, shielding them. “I thought you were on the pill.”

“I am, but I was taking antibiotics last week and I read that they can make birth control less effective- and I’ve been having symptoms lately.” It all comes out in a jumbled mess like word vomit. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. And it scares you. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Despite his posture, his tone is still and calm. “I just… don’t know what to say. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as the floodgates finally burst. You were still in the swell of your STEM program. Jungkook is just about to graduate with a Bachelor’s in photography. Both of your lives would come to a screeching halt if the worst were true. You weren’t ready for a baby, not in the slightest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t-.” Finally, Jungkook sits up, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. The other arm repeats as he rests his chin on top of your head, rocking your shaking frame back and forth for comfort. “Don’t apologize, don’t cry. Why don’t you take a test before we start freaking the fuck out?”

You suppose he’s right.

The walk to the bathroom is a blur. Suddenly, you’re on the toilet with that evil stick in hand. Jungkook is sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, knees bent and head leaned back against the wood of the cabinet. Normally, you’re extremely pee-shy. It literally will not come out. Under these circumstances, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“You pee so softly,” Jungkook says through an airy laugh. “I pee really hard- and fast. Like-” he makes a little whooshing noise with his mouth, “like a hose.”

“Baby, please,” you huff, setting the test aside and pulling your sweats up. You know he’s trying to ease your nerves, but this is one situation where his lighthearted jokes and comments ceased to make you smile. “This is serious.”

“Trust me, I know.” Spreading his legs, he pats the carpet between them. “C’mere.” As soon as you hit the ground he’s embracing you, trailing kisses all over your exposed skin. “What now?”

“Now,” you sigh, setting a timer on your phone for three minutes, “we wait.”

“You know… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it’s positive.”

“It would be absolutely awful, Jungkook.” It’s a sweet sentiment but you know he’s lying, right through his bunny teeth. Late-night conversations in bed about the future ring in your head. ‘Honestly, I don’t think I want kids,’ Jungkook had hummed in the middle of My Neighbor Totoro, ‘ever.’ Generally, you felt the same way, but the memory is terrifying in this context; sitting on the bathroom floor with him, waiting for an answer that could contradict all of your plans and possibly crumble the entire foundation of your relationship.

“Who am I kidding?” He chuckles humorlessly. “You’re right, it would be fucking awful.”

Nervously, you toy with the silver rings on his inked fingers. “What if it’s positive, Jungkook?”

“Let’s just wait until we get the results.”

“But what if it’s positive?” You twist in his arms, showing him your glassy eyes and deep frown. Showing him that his answer, regardless of what the test says, was very important to you.

He blinks at you, lips opening and then closing promptly as he mulls over his words. “If it is… then we’ll take care of it.”

There’s a dual meaning to the sentiment that makes you chew on your bottom lip, eyes flickering up to the white ceiling to stop yourself from crying. Take care of it as in going through with it? Or take care of it as in… the other option? Honestly, the latter would be your first choice, and you’re sure it’s his as well. But for whatever reason, the fact that he assumed it makes your heart ache. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean.” Gently, he smooths a hand over your trembling thighs before they frantically search for yours. “Just… whatever you want to do… whatever you want, I’ll support it… I’m here.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in releases in relief. You feel stupid for even questioning him. After all these months of unconditional love, you should know better. Bringing your locked hands up, you kiss his fingertips. The smile it brings out of him is just as soft as your touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love y-.”

He’s cut off by the blaring ring of your timer.

“Please, can you look?” You mumble, shaking your head and covering your eyes. “I can’t do it.”

You feel his torso twist against your back as he reaches for the test on your countertop. The time between him grabbing it and the dreaded answer feels like an eternity.

“Negative.”

“Thank fuck!” You groan, doing a complete 180 and wrapping your arms around his neck in celebration. You haven’t felt this type of excitement since you were a child, waking up on Christmas morning and seeing colorful presents under the tree.

“What made you think you were pregnant in the first place?”

You hesitate to respond. In retrospect, it’s not as valid of a reason as you originally thought. “I’ve been feeling sick in the morning.”

Pulling back, Jungkook deadpans you. “Bambi, no shit. You’ve been sick all week.”

“I know but,” you pout, twirling a ringlet at the nape of his neck, “google said I could be pregnant…”

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute,” he laughs, holding you flush to him and nipping your cheek playfully. “You’ve got to be the most dramatic person I’ve ever met in my life.” You know he’s joking, but the comment makes your expression drop a bit. “But that’s part of the reason I love you so much. I’m never bored with you.”

Once again, you truly don’t know how you got so lucky.

“Alright,” he huffs, using all of his strength to haul you up into the air and walk you back to your bedroom. Instinctually and habitually, you wrap your legs around his cinched waist. “We finished Avatar last time, so what’re we watching tonight?”

You click your tongue in contemplation. “Naruto.”

“Naruto? Bambi, isn’t Naruto like- a billion episodes long?”

When he tosses you down onto the mattress, you pout and bat your long lashes at him, pulling out all the provenly successful manipulation tactics. “Please?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, plopping down beside you. “But don’t be mad if I knock out.”

And like clockwork, Jungkook dozes off in the middle of the second episode, but that’s okay, because despite how horrible the pregnancy scare was, it truly solidified Jungkook’s presence in your life. You have all the time in the world to watch hours and hours of subpar filler episodes, and you’ll do it happily as long as you’re with him.

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