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lovelytsunoda · 2 years

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night changes // lance stroll

summary: an overview of moments in lance and y/n’s relationship

pairing: lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: a brief mention of sex and pregnancy

authors note: literally my first time writing anything on here so for the love of god please be gentle 🤞🏼 positive feedback and reblogs would be appreciated.

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manchester, england. august 2022

the couple lay tangled in an embrace, tan comforter tangled around their bodies as they slept.

lance woke up first, a hazy smile on his face the half light. on the table next to him, his sliver wedding ring lay next to his airpods and their charger. across the room, the window was propped open against the summer heat, an IKEA crib settled against the wall underneath.

the aston martin driver smiled to himself as he remembered the drunken boys night with sebastian, esteban, alexander and checo where they had all tried to put the baby furniture together, the two drivers who actually had kids choosing not to help and instead watching the youngsters struggle over open bottles of guinness.

he turned his head away from the crib, looking over at the woman sleeping next to him, messy hair sprawled on the pillows and bags under her eyes from all the sleep she had lost from nights where their daughter simply would not stop crying. lance knew he didnt look any better, and lord knows seb reminded him of that every day.

but y/n stroll was the love of his life, and she looked perfect anyways.

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toronto, canada. june 2019

there were a few days to spare before the canadian grand prix in montreal and a couple of the drivers had decided to go to toronto to catch a jays game before the race. there were three hours until first pitch, and in an attempt to find a greek restaurant, the youngest of the drivers had gotten hopelessly lost.

“how the fuck are we lost!” lando norris was the first to complain, leaning shop window for one of the many marijuana dispensaries popping up in the toronto area. ”according to google maps, greektown is literally only two streets!”

“why the hell is it called greek ‘town’, then?” charles leclerc pitched in

“i have no idea.” pierre gasly groaned. “ask lance, he’s the one who grew up here.”

lance rolled his eyes. “i grew up in quebec, jackass. not ontario. i’m as lost as you are.”

“why don’t we just ask for directions?” charles asked, looking down at the map on his phone. “it’s not that hard.”

“yeah, lando, it’s not that hard.” pierre whined, hungry and annoyed. “we’ll miss the game at this rate. are you sure that we didn't just get off at the wrong subway stop or something?”

“jesus christ.” lance mumbled under his breath, heading up the street in an attempt just to find some peace and quiet.

for a formula one driver, lance isn’t always the most aware of his surroundings. mid you, she wasn’t either.

he was walking past an indie bookstore, just a few doors down from where the other young drivers were still arguing about the merits of asking for directions when lance crashed head on into the young woman leaving the bookstore. the paper bag she was holding ripped, sending four paperback mystery novels falling to the sidewalk.

“holy shit, i am so, so sorry.” lance gushed, kneeling down to help her pick up the books. “are you okay?”

she looked up, and lance was instantly taken in by her eyes. her magnificent eyes, like seas of color and emotion that he could get lost in.

“i’m okay.” her voice was like honey, the sweetest sound that the racing point driver could ever imagine.

“i’m sorry about your books.” he said as they both got back to their feet.

she shook her head. “it’s okay. no harm done.”

lance passed her the two books he was holding, as well as holding out his palm for a handshake before realizing that her hands were all full. “I’m lance.” he said awkwardly

she smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “y/n.”

at that point, lando, pierre and charles had stopped arguing with each other and were watching lance and y/n very closely, cheeky smiles on their faces as they watched the two exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch.

lance would talk to her almost every single day after that, and endless sea of chaotic text messages and facetime calls. after the third or so call, he came clean about being a race car driver with racing point f1.

y/n had laughed at him, and told him that he wasn’t european enough to be an f1 driver, and that he didn’t have a hot enough accent.

she meant it as a joke, but really, she didn’t believe he was telling the truth.

until he told her what team he was on, and she googled “lance, racing point f1″.

“i stand corrected, mr strulovitch.” she grinned on the other end of the facetime call. “so what fancy city are you in right now?”

he smiled before standing up and going to the hotel room window to show y/n the view. “baku, in azerbaijan.”

—————————-

monza, italy. 2020

y/n came to her first race in 2020, the strangest of all the seasons amidst the ongoing pandemic. lance told her that she didn’t have to, that he’d make a stopover in toronto next time he had a chance, but y/n was insistent. she needed a break from school, and had always wanted to go to italy anyways.

monza lacked the energy that most of the races usually had. because of the pandemic, the stands were empty, and the track was quiet. lance didn’t like it, the silence depressed him.

but he felt better because she was there.

he and checo were preparing for the race while the mechanics messed with the last few things on the car. y/n was with the engineers, and they were walking her through some of the more finer technical points of the sport.

lance was starstruck, wondering how on earth he was dating her, the most beautiful, brilliant and incredible human being on the planet. he stood next to his bright pink car, race suit hanging low around his hips, and just watched.

checo came up next to the boy, nudging him in the side. “so that’s why you’ve been in such a good mood lately. the neverending stream of facetime calls and text messages that make you giggle like a little girl.”

lance blushed, pale features turning pink. “shut up, man. i think i love her.”

y/n looked over at her boyfriend from the pit wall, a chunky pair of headphones on her head so that she could listen in to the race while she watched, a huge smile on her face as she flashed him a thumbs up

checo clapped him on the shoulders. “let’s give her a good race, kid.”

and a good race it was.

lance came in second, the entire racing point team rushing to the finish line to cheer him on as the chequered flag waved. y/n was glowing against the overcast sky as lance started his cool-down lap, nothing but pride in her chest as she watched the little pink car follow the leading alphatauri around the track another time, an orange mclaren not far behind.

as soon as lance got out of the car, he threw his helmet into the arms of a waiting mechanic and ran straight for y/n, sweeping her off her feet and spinning her around, before kissing her madly as the team went wild, and there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that the skysports cameras that had been covering the victory for the two smaller teams were also covering the kiss.

after the two broke away from their magical moment for some air, lance pulled her close, draping his sweaty body over hers as he attempted to slow his breathing.

“i love you so fucking much.”

that night was the first time either of them had said it, returning to the hotel to spend every second of the italian night wrapped up in each other, clothes strewn over the backs of chairs, a bra hanging from the bathroom doorknob, sheets a tangled mess around them as she moaned his name, both of them truly in love with the other.

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manchester, england. fall of 2020

packing up her life and moving to manchester with lance should have been the hardest thing that y/n ever did. but it wasn’t. she had family there, family she had hardly even ever met. showing up to her uncle’s house in stockport in an aston martin with a formula one driver on her arm was certainly one way to make an impression on her extended family.

lance was in abu dhabi for most of the move, and his heart ached at the idea of not being able to share such an important milestone in their relationship at home, with y/n at his side. he took solace in knowing that abu dhabi was the last race of the season, and that he’d be home to his lover very soon.

y/n promised she would wait up for him. her uncle promised to pick lance up from the airport, an arrangement she wasn't sure she completely trusted, and she was nervous as hell about waiting for him to come home. she had watched every second of the race, and knew it wasn't one of lance’s better results. she wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in her arms and never let him go.

she was lying in bed when he came home, duvet pulled tight around her body as she lay on her side, e-reader plugged into the wall with a cord that wasn't long enough to make it to the bed. all of her books were still in boxes. very few boxes had been unpacked, just enough that lance wasn’t going to come home to an empty house.

the bedroom door creaked open, and lance slipped inside, overwhelmed with love when he saw y/n lying in bed, face scrunched up in that adorably sexy way she got whenever she read a book she was super into.

she was so engrossed in her book, that she didn’t even notice that he had come home. lance smiled to himself, slipping out of his jeans and sliding in between the cotton sheets to wrap his arms around y/n.

“hey, my love.”

she smiled as lance nuzzled his nose into her neck, giggling as he tried to slip a hand up the oversized concert shirt she’d worn to bed, his finger caressing the hemline of her underwear.

“hey, lance.” she awkwardly turned her head to give him a quick kiss before turning back to her book. “one more chapter, and then i’m yours.”

lance laughed, a hearty sound that y/n never got tired of hearing. “that’s what you always say. i bet we’ll both be asleep before then.”

“how domestic of us.”

he gently kissed her neck. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

—————————-

mykonos, greece. summer 2021

there were exactly five weeks in between silverstone and whatever the fuck came after, but lance didn’t care. as soon as silverstone was wrapped up, he grabbed y/n and the two of them ran like hell from the track, breaking more british traffic laws than they could count on the way to the airport.

once they were on the plane, lance turned off his phone. he didn’t want to hear anything from the team while he was in greece. nothing was going to spoil his vacation, because he was about to do something he couldn’t take back.

he was going to ask y/n to marry him.

right now, the girl in question was asleep against his shoulder, and all the aston martin driver could think about was how ungodly lucky he was to even have met y/n in the first place.

thank god that lando norris was so bad with directions.

it was their fifth day in mykonos before lance finally decided to make a move.

they were at the beach together: lance attempting to keep up with his fitness regime, lest his trainer get pissed off when he returned to england, and y/n was curled up on a beach towel with a hardcover book in hand.

after finishing his workout set, lance returned to the beach towel, sitting directly behind y/n and pulling her flush against his chest. he kissed her hair gently before asking her to put the book down.

“there’s something i want to show you.”

“can it wait until i finish the chapter?”

lance smiled, internally rolling his eyes. “how many pages are left in the chapter?”

she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, counting the pages left in that chapter before turning to her lover. “like eight? i only just started the chapter, babe.”

“then it can wait.” lance chuckled, pressing a bookmark in between the pages before shutting the hardcover an prying it from his girlfriend’s hand before helping her to her feet.

“lance, where are we even going?”

“just wait, you’ll see!”

they were at the edge of a cliff overlooking the whole island.

y/n smiled widely, looking over the edge of the cliff. “lance, this is bloody incredible.”

lance grinned, getting down on one knee, a crushed velvet box in his hand. y/n stared at him, clapping one hand over her mouth. “lance...”

“y/n y/l/n, will you do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

“yes!”

it was a quiet wedding, exactly six months later, on the same greek island. his family, her family, and at their own bloody insistence, every driver on the grid. sebastian was lance’s best man, and nobody had ever seen the driver look that proud.

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manchester, england. march 2022.

since becoming y/n stroll, she had rarely ever missed a race, taking time off work more often than her bosses would have liked and working remotely from a hotel room.

so to miss lance’s season opener was a punch in the gut.

it was the day before they were due to leave for bahrain, and y/n had spent the entire morning throwing up. the smell of the candle in the couple’s living room made her nauseous, even though the citrus scent had never done that before. and she was tired all the time,

“sweetheart, i don’t love the idea of leaving you here.” lance’s voice was full of concern as he lay on the couch with his wife, their bodies a tangle of limbs as he cradled her body close, inhaling her hair.

“lance, i’ll be fine. there’s already a chance that sebastian is going to miss qualifying, i don’t want you to leave your team without both drivers.”

“promise me that you’ll call if you need anything?”

“i promise. i love you, lance.”

when lance came back home five days later, y/n already looked better. her skin was glowing, and she had a bright grin on her face as her husband stepped through the front doorway.

“welcome home, my love.” she cooed, wrapping her arms around lance’s neck before pressing up on her toes to give him a kiss. “I have a surprise for you.”

lance raised an eyebrow. “a surprise?”

“yes, silly. a surprise.” she took lances hand and lead him through the small house and up the stairs to the master bedroom. the only bedroom, since both spare rooms had been turned into other things: a simulator room for lance and home office/library for y/n.

when they got to the master bedroom, lance looked really confused. “it’s a box from IKEA.”

y/n smiled. “look a little closer, honey.”

lance knelt down next to the cardboard box to look at the drawing on the side while his wife slipped into the ensuite bathroom.

“babe, why do we have an IKEA crib?”

y/n came out of the ensuite bathroom, a stuffed elephant in her hands and a wide grin on her face as she passed lance the stuffed animal before reaching into the waistband of her jeans for the little plastic test. she pressed the test into lance’s hand, and his eyes went wide, a grin on his face.

“you’re pregnant?”

y/n nodded, unable to say anything before lance swept her into his arms, attacking her face with kisses.

“we’re going to be parents, y/n this is incredible!”

“i love you so much.”

—————————-

lance was snapped out of his reverie by movement in the bed next to him.

“do you always stare at me while i’m sleeping?” y/n’s voice was groggy, a stupid grin on her face as she attempted to snuggle closer to her husband, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“only if i wake up first.” lance smiled calmly, pulling y/n closer.

as lance was about to comment on how quiet and peaceful their house finally was, he could hear soft cries coming from the crib in the corner. when y/n moved to get up, he insisted that his wife lay back down.

“i’ve got it, my love. you carried her for nine months, this is the least that I can do.”

she smiled, squeezing his hand.

“i love you, lance stroll.”

#lance stroll #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #lance stroll x reader #formula 1 #lance is a cutie who needs more love #lance stroll x y/n #aston martin f1 #yall are sleeping on my best canadian boy #formula one #lovelytsunodas one direction series

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justzawe · 2 years

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Zawe Ashton, the star of new must-see period drama Mr Malcolm’s List, is the October cover

Wowee, Zawe! Miss Ashton is ripping up the Regency rule book in Hollywood’s Austen-esque Mr Malcolm’s List. Just don’t ask her about her own A-list Mr Darcy…

By Louis Wise

On a sweltering Friday night in London, The Soho Hotel is a surprising hive of big names. While the Booker Prize-winning author Howard Jacobson is in the doorway, Aquaman – aka Jason Momoa – passes around the back in a jaunty white beret. And, sitting in a corner of the restaurant, there’s Bridgerton’s Jonathan Bailey, whom Zawe Ashton waves to giddily when she walks in. ‘I do actually know Jonathan,’ says the 38-year-old actress once she’s plonked herself on the banquette next to me, ‘in case you think, “Oh! She’s bold!”’ She is wearing a black wrap dress, her hair simple and straight – all very low-key, except for the enormous ring, liberally encrusted with gems, on her wedding finger. This comes, I assume, courtesy of her equally starry fiancé – and father of her soon-to-be-born baby – actor Tom Hiddleston.

I had wondered which Ashton I’d get tonight – panicked that, what with an A-list partner, a superhero franchise job and a Broadway stint under her belt, she had been ironed out by the Tinseltown machine. But the smiley, huggy woman who has just swept across the restaurant, starting to say ‘Hiiiii!’ from a full 10 metres away, hardly seems to be some Garbo-like recluse. To be honest, the Hackney-raised star is always hard to miss. She can be monosyllabic, like Vod, her gloriously deadpan character in the cult sitcom Fresh Meat, or angsty like her ‘gallerina’ Josephina in Netflix’s Velvet Buzzsaw. Or she can be just a normal, serene, very adult adulterer, like her Emma in the recent West End and Broadway revival of Harold Pinter’s Betrayal – yes, the one where she met Hiddleston. But large-eyed, large-laughed, larger-than-life, she certainly can’t be ignored. Even less so when you consider that she is an actor-writer-director-activist – everything but the kitchen sink.

Ashton’s first ever job was on the kids’ TV show Jackanory when she was six. Since then, she has written several plays, including For All the Women Who Thought They Were Mad; she has directed short films and developed TV series; she had a phase of doing performance poetry (‘before it was cool’); and she has inevitably published her own book, Character Breakdown, which details her many travails in the showbiz industry. This summer, you’ll have spotted her in Maryland, a harrowing BBC drama by Lucy Kirkwood, exploring violence against women. And next year sees her in her biggest role to date, playing the (as yet unnamed) villain in the ultra-feminist new Marvel instalment, The Marvels. If she doesn’t always take the easy route, if she’s always fought to get her voice heard, you get the impression she generally tends to win.

‘I’ve been saying no to work that I didn’t feel was right for me, or right for the world, since I was about 12,’ she says, halfway through a dinner of fish and chips with mushy peas followed by a summery posset. This seriousness is offset by a very daffy and Tiggerish enthusiasm: ‘Excuse me,’ Ashton later says over the posset, beckoning a waiter. ‘I’m just triple-checking that I can eat the flowers on this.’ ‘Oh yes,’ replies the waiter happily – a relief for all of us, as Ashton has already scoffed them. ‘Do you see how I asked that after eating them?’ she sighs. ‘Other personality types would wait for that guy to come along first. I’m like, “Er, am I gonna die shortly?”’ It would obviously have been awful if Ashton had died, mid-interview, done in by a decorative flower garnish – but I rather think she would have relished the drama.

We’re here first and foremost to discuss Mr Malcolm’s List, which has clearly benefited from the Bridgerton effect. An adaptation of Suzanne Allain’s 2009 novel, it’s an Austen mash-up, where the two main romantic leads – Sope Dirisu’s Jeremy Malcolm and Freida Pinto’s Selina Dalton – have a Darcy-and-Lizzie-style romance, while Ashton’s character, Julia, comes across as a particularly hoity-toity post Emma Woodhouse, whose machinations and manoeuvrings end in a sweet self-reckoning. The familiarity of the tropes is offset by the casting, which, as in Bridgerton, is exhilaratingly diverse. Julia is, Ashton smiles, ‘a little Regency terroriser’. She is also, for long stretches of the movie, the baddie, as she strives to punish Jeremy for cold-shouldering her.

Is Ashton on a villain trip right now? She cocks her head. ‘I think that’s probably a phase I’ve always been in – certainly the outsider phase.’ She then tweaks her answer: ‘I’ve always played outliers, and that’s great. I think it’s where you can move the needle the most.’ Yet when pressed as to why she tends to play an outsider, or outlier, she demurs. Perhaps it’s too on the nose.

Zawedde Emma ‘Zawe’ Ashton was born in Hackney, to teachers Paul and Victoria: Paul from Britain, Victoria originally from Uganda. She is the eldest of three and her first name means ‘princess’ in Swahili. The young Zawe sounds particularly precocious, always encouraged to read and express herself; she recalls devouring Margaret Atwood’s The Robber Bride aged 11, which, she admits now, was probably far too young. (‘Is there arson? I remember there being arson.’) During her teenage years, Hackney rapidly gentrified. She does not view herself as part of that wave. ‘I remember when it happened,’ she says. ‘When lots of people who looked like they worked on The Big Breakfast descended on your postcode. They’d be knocking on people’s doors, looking through windows, asking when they were thinking of moving. We called them the Shark Fins because they all had that little shark-fin haircut – remember?’ (The capital remains her true home, although she’s light on current specifics, settling on the description: ‘I’m London-ish.’)

Her parents always supported her artistic ambitions. She signed up for acting classes at the illustrious Anna Scher Theatre in Islington and was soon working professionally alongside her school studies. But the standout family tidbit is a nugget on the internet that says her grandfather Paulo Muwanga was the president of Uganda. ‘Oh gurl, don’t go there,’ she mugs, full Drag Race-style. ‘He was actually acting president [for a few weeks]. I’m not like one of the Obama girls.’ Ashton mostly remembers him as ‘a very old, lovely grandpa’, who died when she was young. But, as a child, Ashton spent many summers in Uganda and still feels close to her heritage. ‘There’s a lot of strength in having a duality,’ she muses. ‘We’re finally seeing that more and more now as something to be celebrated. When I was younger, that wasn’t the case.’

Ashton has spoken about being ‘badly bullied’ at school when acting work gave her a profile. ‘I was this tall, skinny misfit who was unapologetic about the things I was passionate about. I had a sense of who I was and what I was into – and you’re not supposed to have that. You’re just supposed to blend in,’ she told The Daily Telegraph in 2019. The feeling of being targeted as an outsider continued when, as a young adult, she signed up for drama school in Manchester. ‘It was rough,’ she says. ‘They break you down.’ Why? ‘I think they saw my keenness, my enthusiasm…’ Her fashion sense, for starters, was ‘experimental’, she grins. ‘Carrie Bradshaw on acid. I remember, for one of the first club nights I went to in Manchester, I found this long, oversized, stripy silk dress with a massive bow on the side, and I had a huge yellow visor with another bow. Basically like I was going to Ascot in the 1980s.’ It went down ‘amazing’, she promises. ‘Sometimes I’d go to college dressed as a cheerleader.’ A pause. ‘Did I go as Snow White one time?’

She sighs. ‘I don’t know why, but sometimes they really want to wash you out.’ This continued even when she started working full-time. Right after Fresh Meat, Ashton had in mind to create a show similar to HBO’s Girls, which Lena Dunham wrote, starred in and directed, but instead she got lost in ‘developmental hell’. ‘There was just this weird resistance. And bullying. Bullying, demeaning, gaslighting… I was yelled at by one producer because I was questioning something about my own work.’ I venture cautiously that, to some, Ashton might just have been too much of a multi-hyphenate. ‘Yep,’ she says immediately. ‘We didn’t do that kind of thing here until the success of things like I May Destroy You or Fleabag.’

All this has made her extra eager to help others. During one episode of Fresh Meat, she struck up a conversation with a young bit-part actor. ‘I could see he was committed, clear-eyed about what he wanted to do,’ she says. ‘And so I gave him my number.’ Not long after, the actor texted Ashton to ask if she would write him a recommendation letter for his American visa, which she did. ‘And then, 10 years later, I turned on Bridgerton and…’ The actor was Regé-Jean Page. Ashton doesn’t take any credit for that (and she has texted him to check he’s OK with her telling the story) but she does think people should give each other a hand. ‘We don’t fuel the fire of genuine enthusiasm in the UK,’ she sighs. ‘It’s like, “Don’t get ideas above; stay calm; it’s not that good.” I appreciate that, because I’m London through and through – I love that acerbic quality and I love that edge. But it can be really damaging.’

Six years ago, Ashton moved to Margate to focus on her book, Character Breakdown, which is a play on words: a ‘character breakdown’ is the short description of a part an actor tends to get with a script – but it also means, obviously, a bit of personal disintegration. Unsurprisingly, during more than 30 years of pretending to be other people, Ashton has experienced both, as she details grimly and hilariously in the book, listing encounters with lecherous directors, callous agents, scary celebrity stylists and more. We laugh several times about how miserable she makes the industry sound. She also calls the book her ‘novel’ a lot, which I raise my eyebrows at a little sceptically. ‘Well, it’s a fictionalised memoir,’ she admits. ‘“Unconventional memoir” is what the publishing house recommended we call it.’

Margate was, she says, a conscious step back from acting, a way ‘to write myself out of the toxicity’, as she puts it. ‘I didn’t want to audition, I didn’t want to have lattes with people that went nowhere. I just thought, “I have to go and live by the sea and see what all the people who don’t act have been doing for a long time, and how they’ve been making themselves happy.” And then of course it didn’t work out, because I got bloody Velvet Buzzsaw.’ Dan Gilroy’s art-world horror satire, where Ashton’s Josephina ends up in a twisted romance with Jake Gyllenhaal’s cold-fish art critic, is exactly the kind of offbeat work Ashton wanted to do. So she went to LA to film it, published the book, and then got offered Betrayal, which came about after ‘Tom and I had done a reading together of the central scene, at a gala for Harold Pinter’s birthday’. Cut to four-or-so years later: here she is, engaged to Hiddleston and pregnant, too. But that’s pretty much the only time she’ll say his name.

Ashton and Hiddleston rarely speak publicly about their relationship, and reports suggest they got together during the play. Their first red carpet as a couple was last September, then in March this year to signal their engagement. But for the Mr Malcolm’s List premiere in June, Ashton appeared alone, visibly pregnant, and glittering in an embellished tulle dress by Sabina Bilenko. Recently, Hiddleston offered a full three words on the subject: ‘I’m very happy.’ Today, Ashton offers a few more, to the same effect. I congratulate her on her big news. ‘Thanks,’ she beams. ‘It’s wonderful.’ I’d read somewhere that she’d always wanted children. ‘I know,’ she acknowledges, grimacing. ‘I used to talk about it all the time in interviews – it was really unsuitable.’ Has she learnt the art of discretion now? ‘I’ve got to learn it,’ she says, with a groan.

Having a baby is another knotty decision in the life of an actress. ‘You’re told, “Don’t get pregnant” but also “Don’t leave it too long” because then you’re going to be an old maid. I’ve been prehistoric in this industry since I was 25,’ she says drily. ‘The mixed messaging is rough and has to be addressed.’ She hadn’t felt stressed by her biological clock ticking: ‘It was just suddenly this self-permission comes over you that goes against all that messaging.’

I ask about her red carpet announcement, but the drawbridge comes up. ‘I don’t want to talk about my personal life,’ she says, politely but firmly. ‘I didn’t feel like I had to do anything,’ she clarifies, but ‘it felt like [the pregnancy news] happened in the right way. [It is a] really, really, vital moment where we’re talking about women and their autonomy when it comes to their bodies.’ The Roe v Wade reversal had been announced just days before, and she had no desire to ‘be cute’ about it. ‘I’m not into “announcements” or “reveals”,’ she adds. ‘I’m into trying to carry the narrative as much as possible myself, rather than anyone else feeling like they have an exclusive on my body.’

At Anna Scher, Ashton says, ‘you were never allowed to use the words “fame” or “star”. They were swear words.’ She plainly approves – so she’s not a star in any way? ‘Gimme a break!’ Is she a bit like Adele, who has famously kept her privacy quite well? ‘I cannot put myself in the same privacy conversation as Adele. But…’ She pauses. ‘I think it’s like any choice. You make it and then do it as much as you can.’ I conclude by complimenting her ring. ‘Thank you,’ she smiles again. ‘And the wedding plans?’ I tease. She cringes. ‘Please don’t.’

On Broadway, Ashton pursued what she jokingly calls her ‘Zawessance – which no one asked for, by the way’, she honks. She signed with new acting reps she felt more aligned with. ‘I said, “Look: just send me the names of fledgling directors who are from under-represented backgrounds.” I felt that’s where I’d be of most use.’ And she has apparently followed that to the letter, with Maryland, The Marvels and, yes, Mr Malcolm’s List.

Growing up, Ashton loved Austen but there was always an assumption that she would never feature in those stories. ‘You just accept the status quo,’ she muses. ‘There’s this very strange acceptance that is definitely tinged with sadness.’ It’s weird, she says. ‘You don’t necessarily realise how long you’ve been locked out until you see the pendulum swing.’ There is certainly a swing now, though – and when I ask if she worries it could be a trend, she is categorical: ‘This is where Bridgerton comes in – because the language this industry understands is money.’

She recently went back to her old drama school in Manchester to address the students. ‘I can see that opportunities for so many under-represented students are suddenly there. I don’t worry about them the way I worried for myself – and that’s really lovely. Systemic racism isn’t going anywhere fast. But they can imagine themselves in huge franchises, in the new Netflix show, in the lead in West End theatres.’

Persuasion, by the way, is Ashton’s favourite Austen to read. She also adores the Emma film starring Gwyneth Paltrow, and Clueless, its ’90s Californian cousin. But ‘I’m not really a Pride and Prejudice girl’, she frowns. Not into Darcy? ‘No, too austere. People love that. I know friends who are like, “I love how emotionally unavailable you are.” I’m like, “Oh gawd!”’ Those seeking a tidbit could read in that a hint as to what she likes in Hiddleston. But it could also apply to her relationship with the acting industry, which has long been her Mr Darcy: infuriating her, misunderstanding her, undervaluing her worth. She seems to have a handle on it now, although she has said she’ll quit acting a few times. She chuckles sanguinely at this.

‘It’s the same as with marriage, isn’t it? You divorce multiple times in a long marriage: as long as you never want to do it at the same time, you’ll probably be all right.’ She’s clearly in it for the long haul.

#zawe ashton #tatler #interview #article

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milkywayan · 10 months

Note

hi. could you recommend medieval literature? thank you :)

uuh, yes i can but that really depends on the fact if you can understand german! i dont know if there are english translations of it (i read them in dual language editions, with middle high german and new high german) - i only have read one book that is not german

But in case you can, here are the ones i read in the past year (the not german one is the last one):

Collection of poems by Walther von der Vogelweide - one of the most famous german speaking minnesänger, lived from 1170 - 1230, and has stolen my heart with his diss tracks to the pope; author of the Famous 'Palästinalied' written as propaganda during the crusades

Collection of poems by Neidhart von Reuental - another important german speaking minnesänger, born around 1180/90, so a younger contemporary of Walther, sings a lot about the 'stupid peasants' and how they try to emulate life of the nobles (great fun, the peasants hated him); the Neidhart persona was very self depricating, depticting an unlucky knight; my favourite song of his is 'Meie din liechter schin'

Der Ackermann by Johannes von Tepl - probably one of my absolute favourite books ever, written in the early 15th century as a story for a friend of Johannes von Tepl, who himself was an educated man from northern bohemia; technically already early new high german and not middle high german; the story is a dialogue between a man and death - the mans wife has just died and he starts insulting death, demanding to bring her back. it goes back and forth, and they discuss life, death, humanity creation, god and grief. i loved it

Ein kurtzweilig Lesen von Dil Ulenspiegel - written around 1515 by an anonymous author in early new low german; german speaking people are more familiar with the modern name Til Eulenspiegel. I grew up with the modern adaptations of the story, but the late medieval ones are so, so much more crude. it is a collection of short stories, telling the tale of Dil Ulenspiegel, a silly boy/young man who does silly things. a medieval comedy, nothing profound. the original print has nice wood cut illustrations. it was widely popular, because medieval people could read (although they couldn't necessarily write)

Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach - written around 1200-1210 in southern germany, picks up athurian legend. i am half way through and have personal beef with wolfram. but it is good, a lot of depictions of noble life and medieval morals and ideas. makes A LOT of references to other writers of the time, including Walther von der Vogelweide, Gottfried von Straßburg (see next book) and Hartmann von Aue (see below)

Tristan by Gottfriend von Straßburg - written around 1210, is the german adaptation of the tale of Tristan and Isolde. I have not read it yet, but the books are on my shelf to be read as soon as I am done with Parzival

Erec by Hartmann von Aue - written around 1180/90 is said to be the first arthurian story written in german and an adaptation of the old french Erec et Enide - same as above have not read it yet

Iwein by Hartmann von Aue - second arthurian story, written around 1200, also adaptation of the old french story - same as above i have to still read it

The tale of the two lovers by Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini (future Pope Pius II) - written in latin (there are english translations!) in the mid 15th century for a friend while at the court of Vienna, this is the most famous medieval erotic novel we have! It is about a married woman falling in love with one of the holy roman emperors men while they visit the town in italy she lives in, and the spicy affair they end up having, probably based on a similar story that happened. Aeneas lived a wild life and was old beyond his age, having 2 kids with two different women in two different countries out of wedlock and being a well travelled poet. he also hated women, like, A LOT. after he became pope he wanted to supress the circulation of the book, but is was a best-seller so it didnt work evidently, as i have read it in the 21st century

In addition to that, as a historical fencer I also read the sources, but these will be boring to people who dont care, but here are some anyways:

The Art of Swordsmanship by Hans Lecküchner - most famous source for Langes Messer techniques

Das Fechtbuch by Albrecht Dürer - yes, THE Dürer wrote a fencing book, completely in verse with nice illustrations!

Jude Lew - his fencing manuals are also nice, no illustrations only text

Hope this helps in a way.. again, i read mostly german medieval literature, so idk if this is useful as idk if any of these books have been translated

#personal #medieval literature #middle high german #medieval studies #any real medievalists could add something that is more useful #i am just a hobbyist reenactor

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yeehawbvby · 2 years

Text

Falling Away With You | Ch. 4

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Tons of tension starts to form between you and Seb. Also, you fucking smash the egg hunt.

Author’s Note: Our first holiday chapter! Enjoy and take care :3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

The Egg Festival is today.

One of my few memories of life pre-Zuzu was when I visited Grandpa during this time of year. There’s a ton of food, mostly desserts made of fruits and chocolate, and they hold an egg hunt in the afternoon. I remember almost fighting some kid for my last egg — I wonder if I know them now? — and I won, and rubbed it in that twerp’s face.

I originally wasn’t going to attend the event, remembering it mainly being for kids and their parents. But when I said that to Robin the other day, she wasn’t having it. She invited me to sit with her family so I wouldn’t be alone all day, and insisted that everyone goes. I’m not really looking forward to it, but I appreciate the gesture, and at the very least get along with her and Seb to a certain degree. What’s the worst that could happen?

To dress for the occasion, I put on a white, long sleeve bodysuit and fit a lavender colored, cotton, overalls-style skirt over it. For shoes, I opt to wear my white platform sneakers with tall pink socks under them. Finally, I pin some matching pink ribbons into the bands of my braided pigtails to be extra festive.

When I arrive at the town, there’s a giant carpet in the middle of the square. The only local kids we have, Jas and Vincent, are running around in the grass with a few kids I don’t recognize. I’m assuming they’re either relatives, or tourists. Pam is spiking all of the fruit punch oh my fucking god, and everyone else seems to be mingling in groups.

I greet Pierre, who’s behind a booth selling stuff, because of course he is. Dude’s in a capitalist chokehold. Sure he has to make a living, but still. Poor Caroline is seated in the grass next to the booth, picking apart some leaves. She looks dreadfully bored.

While browsing Pierre’s holiday wares, I spy a super cute stuffed bunny that I really want, but decide not to buy it. Not yet, at least. Don’t wanna carry it around all day, if I’m being honest. I purchase some prismatically colored rock candy and move to my next location while crunching on it.

I spot Robin next, so I say “hi” and thank her for inviting me again. I don’t linger for long, as she’s mid-conversation with some other moms.

After that, I kinda just… wander a bit. I’m becoming painfully aware how little I actually know the people that I know who are here. Yoba, there are people everywhere , something I’m not great at coping with. Since when is this little town such a popular holiday attraction? I hate this so much.

Those two friendly and pretty people I ogled at from across Stardrop, whose names I learned in passing are Leah and Elliot, are lounging around by the edge of the river. The most beautiful farmcore elf motherfucker I’ve ever seen, and her equally as beautiful, romance novel-lookin’ friend (or more?)… sigh. I think back to when I saw them at the saloon, and wonder if they even remember me. It’s not like we spoke, but should I try and say “hi” anyway?

“Hey, you.”

I turn around and I’m eye-to-eye with bright blue, heavily eyelined orbs.

“Abby! What’s up?”

“Oh, just scoping out the land, planning my route for the egg hunt.”

“You’re participating? I thought it was, like… a kid thing.”

“It is. But I still compete every year. Sam does too, sometimes.”

“Maybe I’ll try it out then,” I think out loud.

“Try all you want,” Abby basically threatens, “I take it very seriously. I’m the reigning champion around here.”

She tries to size me up. Alas, we’re both very small, and she’s wearing a pair of floppy rabbit ears on her head. It doesn’t intimidate me in the slightest. I respect the effort, though.

“You’re on.” I laugh, albeit nervously, trying to brighten the super tense mood she created. Why is she so competitive? It’s a fuckin’ egg hunt against children . Is she always like this?

“Oh!” Her demeanor changes as she looks up and behind me. “Hiya Sebby!”

Sebby? I’ve only heard his mom call him that. Sounds gross coming out of the mouth of anyone under 40, I note to myself. I look back briefly to greet Sebby . My heart flutters a ton when I look up to say hello, and he’s already softly grinning down at me.

He looks forward to Abby, not responding to her greeting, and cocks his head to the side briefly. “Sam’s lookin’ for you.”

She scurries away, and I turn around to more appropriately greet the friendly neighborhood emo man.

Everyone has some pastel or earthy colors going on in their outfits, and for the first time, I’m actually witnessing Seb not wear all black.

His jeans are light blue and ripped with black fishnets underneath, and he’s sporting a grayish-brownish henley up top. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and despite the shirt only having 4 buttons, he has 3 of them undone. It’s all accompanied by a black, plain choker necklace and a black smart watch. I’ve never seen his forearms, I don’t think… they’re nice. This look suits him. Is that a tattoo on his wrist, or a birthmark? I think it’s a tattoo. It’s small, I wish I could make it out.

“You alright?” he asks in a hushed, almost somehow seductive voice, and shoots me a wink when our eyes meet. Oh he’s fully aware that I was practically just basking in his presence. Wonderful.

I give him a stiff nod. “Does Sam need her so they can plan their MLG egg hunting strategies or something?” I joke, trying to cause a distraction.

Seb chuckles knowingly, but allows the subject change. He shakes his head and mumbles, “I’ve got no idea where he is.” Confused, I tilt my head, which prompts him to explain. “It looked like you needed saving. I think he’s off talking to Victor somewhere.”

“Victor?”

“We went to high school with him, he lives in the city now. He’s pretty cool, for a rich brat,” he answers. “I’m sure you guys would get along nicely.”

To be honest, I don’t know if I can handle talking to any of the strangers around here, considering how many there are. I already feel so overloaded from the voices, and smells, and other miscellaneous things that my senses are trying to take in.

“Yeah, maybe,” I meekly respond.

Seb seems to sense my anxiety, and reassures me. “It’s okay if you’d rather not. There’s a lot of people here… it’s fucking terrible,” he laughs.

“It really is.”

“Yeah… unfortunately, it’s not the worst thing about all this, though.” He vaguely gestures around with his last few words.

I furrow my eyebrows. “There’s something worse here than people?”

He huffs out a laugh and then eyes me up and down, mischievously. “You have terrible manners and I find it highly offensive.”

“What are you on about?”

“I didn’t get a ‘thank you’ for shooing Abby away.”

After a brief, dead stare, I give him a loud, over-the-top gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh, how could I?!” I answer, mimicking a southern belle to my best ability. “Thank you so much Mister Sebastian, Sir! My hero!” I curtsy for added effect, before going dead-pan and snarking, “You want a medal?”

“Oh,” he raises his eyebrows, an incredulous look written on his face. “By all means, I can just call her back over and let you fend for yourself.”

I know he’s probably bluffing, but I suddenly feel small and fearful, anxiety about all these new faces being on full-blast today. “Please don—”

He puts his hand on my head, a gesture that shuts me up instantly as I squint a glare up at him. He cares to avoid the bulk of my braids, as to not mess them up, and rubs a little. Why… do I like this so much?

“I wouldn’t actually do something that cruel.”

“Thanks...” I roll my eyes.

“Unless you wanted me to.”

“What do I look like, some kinda masochist?”

He devilishly grins, paired by a low, evil hum of a laugh emitting from him. Oh my god, that was so hot.

“(Y/n), (y/n), (y/n)…”

He trails off in a lower volume than usual with each tsk of my name, and leans down to level with me. His hand is still palming my head — not super tight, but firmly enough to ensure that I have no choice but to look at him. I could easily tug myself away with a little elbow grease. For a freaky, entirely self-indulgent reason, I don’t.

“You looked very natural, going all red in the face after I caught you eyeing me up before.”

I feel my heart thump in my chest.

“And given you’re just letting me take control of you like this,” he boldly continues, his grip on my head tightening a slight bit as he ever so slight bobbles it around a little, “you’ve probably got some naughty, masochistic fantasies going on in that brain o’yours, don’t you?”

…Oh my god?

My eyes feel like they’re gonna bulge out of my skull. My mouth is agape. Feels dry. I can’t halt the small squeak that comes out of me.

How does he expect me to respond to that ? I mean, I’d be able to stab back just fine if he were wrong. But he’s not. But I’m not gonna just say that. And denial won’t get me anywhere. But again, I obviously can’t just be like Yes, you’re right, actually. Fuck me up daddy. Right?

“Er…” I mumble.

“Just kiddinggg,” he sings, even though he definitely was not just kidding.

Before I can process how to fight back, Seb takes both of my braids in his free hand, and gives them a quick, yet firm, tug.

I gasp at the temporary sting it leaves behind on my scalp, and goosebumps sprout across my skin – thank Yoba I’m wearing long sleeves. My eyes shut and I clasp my hands over my face, which feels like it’s on fire.

Another evil laugh escapes the dickwad standing before me. This one’s dramatically less hot than the first.

__________________

Seb and I are sitting at his family’s table, ignoring the scientific conversation going on beside us. We’re mildly blitzed up on Pam’s special fruit punch and the various spring-themed candies scattered around, and have just finished devising my strategy for the egg hunt:

I’ll run to the top corner of the square near the water. From there, I’ll make my way down the riverbank, and back to the middle once I reach the roped-off area. Seb hinted that Lewis usually tosses an egg or two in the bed of his truck, so I should climb in there if I have the time to take a look.

He also told me that Willy likes to hide his own egg without anyone knowing, so that it never gets cleaned up, and stinks up the place in a few weeks. A truly evil prank. I love it. He caught the old fisherman putting his contraband into a flower bed last year, so I’ll be sure to check any of those that I pass by, in case he did it again.

Seb wants Abigail to lose, just once, as she was apparently truthful in implying never does earlier. I’m more than up for the challenge. He offered to set up traps, to “accidentally” trip someone, anything to help. It’s hilarious and appreciated, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Being the cynic he is, it took some bickering to convince him to not interfere.

“Alright, kids, gather ‘round!” Mayor Lewis shouts from the clearing in the middle of town.

“Ok maggot, are you ready to absolutely destroy some children?!” Seb hypes me up.

I stifle laughter, but promptly break, not used to this energy from my usually mellow coach. “Sir, yes sir!” I reply, standing up and saluting him.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” He doesn’t even try to contain his volume, earning a few looks. Seb’s laughing with me as he gives me a rough pat on the back — ouch, what the fuck — before sending me off.

When I get to the line, my laugh simmering down, Abby’s watching me as if I’m her prey. Not in a sexy way, unfortunately, but rather a murderous one. I break the awkward stare-off and look at Sam, who mouths a jovial “good luck!” my way. What a good boy.

After giving instructions and handing out our baskets, Lewis blows a whistle, and we’re off. I run to my starting point, ignoring a nearby egg that I watch Vincent waddle towards. I refuse to pummel a child today, no matter how tempting. I seek out one in a salmonberry bush, another in the dirt against Penny and Pam’s mobile home, and a few in Lewis’ hedges.

“30 seconds!” I hear Lewis call out.

I lift a foot onto one of the tires of his truck, hurdling myself into the trunk from there — and Seb was right! I hit a jackpot coming here. The bed is decorated with flowers, garland and stuffed animals, and there’s a few eggs scattered within it all, in camouflage. I jump out without giving it much thought, practically crashing into Sam.

“Ah! Sorry!” we shout, simultaneously, cautionary hands on each other's arms as we separate.

“10 seconds!”

“Shit,” I whisper to myself.

I run past Lewis’ garden, grabbing an egg out of it. It’s unpainted, so I assume this is Willy’s. Feels bittersweet, ruining his demonic tradition. But I can’t linger — eyes on the prize, (y/n)! To finish off the competition, I sprint to the small and oddly-located graveyard. I manage to snag the last egg I spot from between a headstone and a shrub, just as the final whistle blows.

Pushing some stray hairs away from my face, and huffing from all the movement, I spot Seb watching me from against a nearby lamppost. I smile wide, giving him a thumbs up with my free arm. He chuckles and does the same, his other hand sporting a gigantic, spherical lollipop rather than his usual cigarette.

I hand in my basket and walk over to Seb while Lewis readies the results. “Oh I killed it dude,” I brag, hands on hips.

“I can tell,” he giggles, “you looked intense out there.”

“All for you, babyyyy.” I exaggerate the “baby” part so he doesn’t think I’m flirting or something. Even though I totally sort of am. I’m bad at subtleties, aren’t I?

“Yeah?”

I nod. “I don’t care about winning, I just wanted to kick Abby’s ass. And you encouraged me, so,” I cheekily shrug.

He laughs, like a genuine full-hearted laugh, unleashing a billion little butterflies in my tummy. I think his laugh is my favorite ever. “You little menace.”

We don’t say much for a bit, as we patiently await the results. I decide to go try to swipe a lollipop of my own from the food table, but when I get there I find out they’re all gone. Seb offers to share his.

“What do you mean, share it? I’ll have to like, put it in my mouth, ya know? It’s not something I can just bite and hand back.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re okay with eating something that’s literally covered in my saliva?” I deadpan.

“(Y/n), I wouldn’t have offered it if I cared. Now, unless you’re skeeved out by it, eat the damn candy,” he says, holding it up to my mouth.

I stare at him, a blank expression on my face as he expectantly raises his eyebrows and grins very smugly. He waves it a little, swatting my hand down when I reach to take it from him. This is… extremely intimate, I think, glaring at him as he inserts his lollipop into my mouth.

The innuendos I could make here are absurd, but frankly, I’m scared to comment, given his spicy charade with me earlier. Don’t think my panties could handle any more of that.

Another few moments go by. I lazily play with the end of one of my braids as Seb and I silently pass his lolli back and forth.

“Results are in, folks!”

We both perk up hearing this, and Seb follows me to the middle after I urge him to. He’s the reason I found so many eggs, ultimately — if I win, it’s his win too.

“And the winner is…”

A few of the kids, sitting on the rug below us, tap at the ground like they’re preparing a drumroll. Cutest shit I’ve ever seen.

“(Y/n!)”

I beam at Seb and hand him back the lolli before meeting Lewis for my prizes: a cute straw hat with a white ribbon tied around the middle, and 1,000 bucks. No wonder Abby cares about winning this so much.

She came in a close second, with 3 eggs less than me, and in third place was Jas. They both got participation medals. Abby looks pissed and Jas looks like she’s about to cry… hm. Rather than returning back to my spot in the circle, I find Marnie in the crowd.

“Hiya, Miss (Y/n)!” she greets me, visibly confused.

“Hey! So,” I rush, feeling a little embarrassed, “Jas looks really upset that she didn’t do better.”

Marnie shrugs. “Happens every year. I’m sure she’ll have her chance someday.”

“Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” I grin. “I want you to take some of the money. That way she can pick out her own cute hat, and, like, plushies from Pierre’s stand over there or something, I dunno.”

Marnie puts her hand to her mouth. “(Y/n), my goodness, you don’t have to do that!” she assures me.

“I want to! I already had my own childhood fun to experience. She deserves it.” That second sentence was a whole lie, my childhood was rough , but Jas deserves way better than what I had.

She pulls me into a big bear hug, happy- sobbing into my shoulder, spilling “thank you”s and “Yoba bless you”s all over my shirt. It catches me off guard, but I’m happy that she’s happy nonetheless.

I hand her half of my earnings, throw my new hat on top of my head and head back over to Seb.

“What was that about?”

“I made a peace offering with Jas’ aunt.”

He furrows his brows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

“Speaking of which, you deserve some of this too.”

I hand Seb the rest of my prize money. I was doing okay without 1,000 extra gold, thanks to the inheritances that came along with the farm. I’ll live if other people can enjoy the prize. Plus, the hat is sick, I’m happy with just keeping this. Seb’s about to try and deny the money, handing it my way, but I shove his hands back towards him as Abby struts over.

“You’re an interesting lady, (y/n),” she observes. “What was the point in winning if you’re not even going to keep the prizes?”

I shrug. “It wouldn't feel right keeping something meant for the little ones and their families all to myself.”

She glares at me, trying to find something to argue with, but it softens as she lets out a sigh. She looks around, visibly guilty. Marnie’s telling Jas the good news, I assume, because the little girl’s hopping around like she just won a pony or some shit. Abby spots them and smiles. It looks genuine; maybe she’s actually nice under her cold, edgy demeanor.

“Whatever, nerds.” She rolls her eyes at us before walking away.

__________________

At the end of the festivities, Seb takes the long way to the mountains to walk me home. We’re both drowning ourselves in mini chocolate eggs that we stole — as if the absurd amount of food Robin kept bringing to our table, and multiple cups of punch, wasn’t enough.

I’m taking care to not get any of the chocolate on the giant stuffed bunny I caved and bought from Pierre. Named her Eggy.

Not sure if Seb is just super happy about our win, or if he’s still rushing on the sugar we’ve been consuming, but he’s full of life right now and I’m honestly kind of obsessed with it.

“Go long,” he nudges me, mouth full of candy, getting ready to throw a chocolate that he just unwrapped.

Stakes are high, that thing’s done if it touches the ground. I refuse to waste chocolate, damn it!

I jog down the dirt path a bit, catching the little egg in my hand. Victory . I pretend to spike it at the ground, promptly shoving the snack into my mouth after.

“You sure you’re okay walking back up there alone?” I ask when we make it past the gate to my farm.

He waves a hand, “I take walks in the mines sometimes when I can’t sleep. I can handle the backwoods on my— ”

“You do what?!” I quietly screech, halting on my stoop. “You could get killed, dude!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Do you at least bring a sword?”

“Of course! I’m reckless not stupid.”

I sigh. “Whatever, just be safe…”

He smiles, “No promises.”

“Sebastian!”

“Goodnight, (y/n),” he sings.

I sigh. “Goodnight… Sebby.” I snicker, feeling his eyes burning holes into my back as I enter the house.

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

Note

I feel like YA was a thing in libraries in my youth (I’m your age) and there were definitely books for older kids and young teens, from excellent contemporary works of literature as well as classics like Anne of Green Gables or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn as well as series like Babysitter’s Club. What are people talking about when they talk about YA now? Some people act as if it’s a recent invention and I’m not quite getting the nuance here.

Ah. You are correct that the words 'Young Adult' were being used for books when we were younger. Here's someone's article abstract that is a good starting point, IMO:

Young adult (YA) literature are texts written and marketed to 12- to 18-year-olds that feature young adult protagonists. It is a genre marked by its intention to capture the unique experiences of adolescence, their “coming of age” and “rites of passage.” While books featuring young adults have a long history, YA established itself in the late 1960s, accompanied by the rise in adolescents’ exploration of their cultural and social identities, increased leisure time, and the availability of spending money. The YA Boom began in the 1980s and can be organized into three movements with periods of decline between each: the rise of the books in a series and contemporary realistic fiction (1980s to mid-1990s), the rise of fantastical and speculative fiction (late 1990s to early 2000s), and the rise of the novel representing diverse experiences and social issues (2010 to today). One distinguishing aspect of YA's boom is the ongoing relationship among societal and cultural trends, and readers, educators, librarians, authors, and publishers. These forces often work together to find the next best-selling trend that teens will want to read.

When people on tumblr talk about "The YA Boom", they mean the rash of Twilight and Hunger Games knockoffs in the mid-00s to mid-2010s.

Think Divergent.

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figureofdismay · 2 years

Text

Now Open: RomanGerri ‘In Costume’ Fic Prompt Fest

What is the 'In Costume' fic fest of autumn '22?

The idea here is a prompt based fic fest around the halloweeny, autumnal themes of fantasy or supernatural, dressing up, cozy romcoms, and spooky stories. AU prompts are the focus here, scary or sweet. Witches, Ghosts, Selkies and Fae prompts welcome. But so are prompts and fics dressing up our duo in the settings of your favourite RomComs, like You've Got Mail, 2 Weeks Notice or Desk Set, or etc... Playing 'dressup' with the characters could also stretch to pretty much any AU, or...??? Bring all your fanciful ideas, the idea is to loosen up and have some fun here, kids 😉

How many prompts can I send?

1 to 5 prompts per person, to start with.

Do I have to write a fic if I submit a prompt?

No, having a variety of prompts to choose from will make this more fun, so don't feel like you're locked into writing if you have ideas but no time or don't feel comfortable. But the 'deadline' is loose here, and everyone likes more fic, so feel free to give it a shot.

Will my name be attached to the prompts I submit?

Nope! The prompt list will go up anonymously.

When you claim a prompt, I will put your name next to the claim, unless you contact me via DM on tumblr, twitter or discord to request your claim and your anonymity -- as the organizer I do need some way to contact you to follow up or to ask for your second choice if someone else got there first.

Prompting will be first come, first serve. When the prompt list goes up, please comment underneath it with your top 3 choices. Or, you can contact me on Discord, Tumblr or Twitter with your claim requests, but this may make it trickier to judge who asked for what when. If you claim anonymously on the Dreamwidth prompt post, please follow up with me via DM in case something comes up later that needs following up. Your author identity will not be shared publicly.

Can I claim my own prompt?

Yes! If that's the only prompt that appeals to you, sure you can. (This also makes it so that I don't have to try to keep track of who submitted what ;) )

What is the deadline for my fic?

The 31st of October is the aim. But I want you to feel happy with your writing, so extensions are also okay, though it would be nice to get all prompts done by mid November, aka the start of Secret Santa Exchange season, which I have heard may be happening, as brought to you by the people who brought you Slime Puppy Summer (no affiliation) 😉.

If you really think you can't finish, or want to relinquish your claim, please let me know, though, so I can open it up for someone else.

But! If you finish your fic quickly, feel free to post immediately! There is no minimum writing time before posting.

If you finish your first claim with time to spare, you are free to both prompt again and choose another prompt claim, including ones that are already claimed -- While it's nice to see as my different prompts filled as we can manage, everyone has their own take so there's no such thing as 'too many' of the same idea.

How long should my fic be?

Basic minimum of 1000 words, but if you feel like you've accomplished all you want to in your fic or ficlet in 900 words or something, don't feel like you need to pad for length.

There is no maximum length for your fic, but please keep in mind the goal is to write one or two things for a quick two month theme fest. Believe me I know how hard it is to keep writing projects in scale, but consider this permission to not try to write a novel ;)

Important Dates

Prompting is open from August 25th to Sept 4th

The prompt list will go up un the 5th of September

Fic posting is open... whenever you finish your claimed prompt 🌟✨

Signup and prompting google form is here: Form Link

When posting, please add your fic to the AO3 Collection RG_InCostume22 Here at the Roman/Gerri In Cosume Fic Fest on AO3

Info is mirrored here on the dreamwidth comm for this fest: https://romangerri-ficfest.dreamwidth.org/283.html

#romangerri #roman x gerri #gerri x roman #succession #succession hbo #roman roy #gerri kellman #fic fest #prompt fest #fandom announcement

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susandsnell · 10 months

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Coco ilu PLEASE drop the queer reading of Bunnicula essay 😭 hope ur having a good day, i am dying at the thought of (chester??) the cat looking at that tiny bunny sucking the red off an apple like 'i know what u are..'

!!!! I love you too, anon, omg, thank you so much for sending me such a delightful question! Had a surprisingly decent day as well, so I hope you had a great one too!

Thanks so much for asking me about Bunnicula - I read it in about second grade, after my 'introduction' to Dracula beyond pop culture was Dead and Loving It the year prior (and seeing Bela Lugosi clips on the old movies channels here and there), and this was a much more digestible, less terrifying experience of vampires for baby Coco.

First off, the "I know what you are" memes are funny, but genuinely, I think Chester the cat and Harold the dog were such an old married couple. They're not quite as acrid as Statler and Waldorf or as affectionate as Timon and Pumbaa, but the way they snark at each other, affectionately disparage one another's literary tastes, and tease about various neuroses, as well as playing Holmes and Watson for the mystery of the story speaks for itself! That Chester is the one who needs to overcome his prejudice of outsiders is an interesting wrinkle to this, but he's working on it through therapy and, literally, as the text says, "finding himself". I mean, if this isn't a gay cat unpacking his internalized issues and respectability politics with the help of the zanier Bunnicula and the more self-assured Harold, I don't know what is.

Next, there's Bunnicula himself; an homage to tropes of both classic vampire films and the trashy television fare of the mid-20th century, which is already historically very popular with queer people for many reasons - camp factor, the affinity many of the LGBTQ+ community towards horror, and especially how easily identifiable the vampire in particular is as a queer figure. The core message of the story is that of accepting and celebrating the differences of others; Bunnicula is indeed a vampire, but, being a vampire rabbit, only sucks the life out of vegetables and is therefore harmless - it's Chester's judgment of him making him an outsider that's the issue. (Sidenote that the concept is cute + funny + kid-friendly enough that it sidesteps the usual lame cop-out that is the vegetarian vampire.) The vampire as an outsider - and hence queer - is an age-old reading. Further, while there's definitely space for queer narratives of feeling like a monster and/or imperfect/toxic stories aimed at teenagers and adults, the vampire as specifically oppressed and in a work aimed at kids works uniquely well in this context since Bunnicula's harmlessness allows him to sidestep the usual conundrums of monster-posing-genuine-threat-as-stand-in-for-oppressed group (looking at you, Zootopia.). (Added addendum that while I mentioned narratives for kids having to exist in a simpler moral universe here, this 1:1 is an issue I have with many 'vampire as a stand-in for queer people' narratives -- True Blood/Southern Vampire Mysteries ran into it frequently, although otoh I found the latest Interview With The Vampire TV show to handle it with better nuance. It's tricky territory, to say the least)

The meta-narrative to this can't be ignored. The author, James Howe, came out as gay decades after writing this with his late first wife, Debbie, and has expressed many times that though he was closeted/uncertain at the time of writing the original novel, he on reflection must have subconsciously imbued it with themes of being a horror-loving, artistic, bullied outsider that reflected his own childhood experiences. Likewise, he's noted that Debbie, who was Jewish and had similar tastes and experiences, was probably doing the same. Since coming out, James Howe has engaged in extensive anti-bullying and equality-focused advocacy work, and has since made his priority incorporating themes of compassion towards the outsider in all his writings for kids - his later works have even featured canon gay characters. From what I've read, these themes have persisted through the rest of the Bunnicula series (though I think I only ever read the first book).

All this to say: Chester and Harold are married, Bunnicula is their flamboyant housemate.

#bunnicula #queer readings #this was fun! thanks for asking!

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chernobog13 · 2 years

Photo

The Strategic Space Command galactic cruiser Leif Ericson model kit, originally released by AMT in 1968.

AMT had the Star Trek license at the time, but there were a limited amount of starships from the show that they could produce models for. They approached U.S.S. Enterprise designer Matt Jefferies to come up with more ships for the model line. The Leif Ericson was Jefferies’ first, and only, design that was produced. AMT soon cancelled the entire starship line due to poor sales.

The Ericson model had a working shuttle bay, with two doors that opened to reveal a really neat shuttle for planetary excursions. If you look real close at the fifth picture above you can see that the front of the shuttle resembles a duck bill. Or at least I think it does.

Despite the model line being canceled, the Leif Ericson caught the eyes of science fiction authors Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. They liked the design so much they used it as the basis for the INSS Mac Arthur, which is featured in their classic novel The Mote in God’s Eye (A book which is ripe for adaptation. Don’t tell me it’d be too expensive to film; that’s what they said about Dune, and it’s been adapted like a dozen times already).

As a kid I missed out on the initial starship series from AMT, and never heard about the Leif Ericson at all. Luckily, Star Trek fandom surged in the mid-1970s, and AMT responded by re-issuing their original Star Trek models, and even added a few new ones.

However, AMT went a different route with the Leif Ericson. Thanks to Chariots of the Gods and similar works, the mid-1970s also experienced a U.F.O. craze. AMT decided to kill two birds with one stone and cash-in on that as well. The Leif Ericson underwent a radical change. All the parts were recast as glow-in-the-dark, and it was re-issued as the “interplanetary U.F.O. mystery ship.”

I was lucky enough to find that kit, along with all the other AMT Star Trek kits, in a store a few miles from my house. The “U.F.O.” came home with me after I plopped down most of my paper route earnings, and I built it that afternoon.

I hung it from my bedroom ceiling, going the AMT Enterprise and Klingon cruiser (I didn’t get the Roman Bird of Prey until much later). The glow-in-the-dark feature worked great, too!

Perhaps too great, because the younger brother I shared the bedroom with had apparently stayed awake most of the night, terrified of the glowing apparition over his head. He never said anything to me, but the next morning, after I went to school, he decided to face his fears. With a whiffleball bat.

I came home from school to find the U.F.O. ship shattered into dozens of pieces on my bed. The only thing that had survived intact was the shuttle. Knowing I probably wouldn’t get away with feeding my brother to the Bigfoot that lived in the forest across the street, I tried to get my parents to punish him. But somehow it turned out that its was all my fault for frightening the little so-and-so in the first place. My brother got away scot free.

The next time I returned to the store the U.F.O. model was sold out, and the owner was not interested in ordering another one “for some kid.” Not that it probably would’ve worked if he did, because AMTvcancelled their Star Trek/spaceship line again.

Luckily, several newer companies in recent years have used AMT’s original molds to reproduce the models of my youth. I have managed to get another U.F.O. model, as well as the Leif Ericson. And one of these days I’m going to build them, just as soon as I find room to display them (hanging from the ceiling is out due to an inconveniently placed ceiling fan).

#Leif Ericson #Strategic Space Command #AMT #Matt Jeffries #INSS Mac Arthur #The Mote in God's Eye #models #model kits

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ninasbookshelf · 9 months

Text

Must-Read Memoirs

I'm on a bit of a memoir kick lately... so here are five of my favorites!

Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner

Michelle Zauner's memoir Crying in H Mart is an exercise in healing. The book is a straightforward account of the author's experience with pain, love, grief, and growth as she reflects on her relationship with her mother while processes her mother's passing. The agony of heartbreak is conveyed through Michelle's attempts to recreate the Korean food she never learned to cook, with the desperate hope that the threads that connect Michelle to Korea might connect her back to the mother who created her. Crying in H Mart is a breathtaking view on life and living to one's fullest. I can't recommend it more.

Miss Memory Lane by Colton Haynes

I was an MTV Teen Wolf fan. I'll admit that's what drew me to this book; I saw a familiar face on the cover and thought, "huh, I wonder what stories he has to tell." I was blown away. Miss Memory Lane follows Colton Haynes' life from childhood through present-day, detailing his experiences with sexuality, abuse, drugs and alcohol, relationships, and fame. Haynes spares nothing in his search for the truth and the candid voice had me hooked. His writing revealed both the naivety of his youth, the mistakes he made and the guilt he felt, and his current voice saying: this is what happened, and I'm here, it'll be ok.

I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy

I know there has been plenty of talk about this one, but it is worth the read! Like Miss Memory Lane, I'm Glad My Mom Died details the author's experience with fame, sexuality, and most importantly her relationship with her mother and herself. Jennette's unique voice puts a spotlight on her mother's abuse, facing the truth of her experience head-on. At the same time, McCurdy maintains a cutting sense of humor throughout her story. She plays with narrative voice as she matures throughout the memoir and leads the audience to a present-day where she is safe, self-assured, and has finally reclaimed power in the life that was always meant to be hers.

Hyperbole and a Half (and Solutions and Other Problems) by Allie Brosh

Hyperbole and a Half started as a blog back in 2009 where Allie Brosh posted stories from her childhood, her daily life, her mental health, and whatever else she wanted to post, in the form of a webcomic drawn in Paintbrush. In 2013 several of the existing comics were combined with some totally new ones as a memoir in physical book format. Darkly funny and refreshing, Hyperbole and a Half and its follow-up had me laughing out loud on one page and bawling on the next.

After Hyperbole and a Half was published, there was talk of a sequel, and even a preorder for said sequel, but the release was put on hold as several traumatic events happened in Brosh's life. It seemed that Allie Brosh had totally disappeared from the internet, much to the concern of her fans. Then, in 2020, fans rejoiced to learn that Brosh was well and returning with Solutions and Other Problems, a second collection filled with childhood stories, records of grief and loneliness, and major life changes.

These works are both graphic novel and memoir, and even if you don't typically read graphic novels I recommend giving these a shot. Hyperbole and a Half was the first graphic novel I ever fell in love with, and the stories are beautifully told. They are equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking, and filled with wisdom. Allie Brosh's memoirs are victorious tales told through the lens of someone who made it through and is continuing to push onward day by day.

Just Kids by Patti Smith

I read Just Kids a few weeks ago and I feel like I have a renewed appreciation for life. I wrote about the book in my Mid-Year Book Freakout post, so I'll try to keep this short. Patti Smith has a genuine and almost childlike—in the best way—view of the world around her. She looks at everything with new eyes and deftly conveys emotion as she travels through the stages of her artistic endeavors and coming-of-age. Smith uplifts her peers and immortalizes them as the artists they are, and she speaks about art and the pursuit of art with frankness while maintaining a sense of respect for those who created it. Smith's storytelling is comforting and gorgeous, and I am so grateful I picked up this book. I can tell it'll be a favorite for years to come.

#memoirs #books and literature #booklr #book recs

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trickster-whim · 2 years

Text

So, my sister and I had kind of an amazing trip to Goodwill!!

(Kind of long, so I'm gonna put it under a readmore. Also nothing at all explicit, but slightly adult for doujinshi and body pillow covers)

I'm going to go out of order but in the order I took pictures, so first up are these two Dungeon Tiles Master Set boxes! They're really cool, especially since we've been playing dungeons and dragons more lately. Also there were some people's printouts of dnd books, which is adorable. The only thing is that the sets were kinda mixed up, and they were the most expensive single items we got ($6.49, I think?), so we left one behind at the store and who knows what was in that one??

But I definitely want to try to use these sometime, and the boxes themselves are really cute, so ✅

The thing that drew us in and convinced us pretty quickly this was going to be a wild trip, though, was a stack of Japanese novels and doujinshi! This was the same goodwill that I once found a gay space furry retelling of Beauty and the Beast (which turned out to be v good, btw), so there's precedent for some choice smut, but I've never found doujinshi before!

Mostly it's things I'm not super familiar with, and it all appears to be in Japanese, so we can't completely read it (although my sister's kinda learning it in her free time), but it's still awesome.

The non-comic books were these three Gankutsuou novels. Of course I've never seen it, but I did read Count of Monte Cristo in high school! (I remember reading it during my welding class lmao. And I had the teacher who tested us when we got to school over minutia that wasn't in the abridged versions, so yes I read the whole book.)

Can't read it, still cool.

The doujinshi/fanbooks I'm having a harder time finding info about, despite the fact that most of them list an author/illustrator and date. Again, they're in Japanese, but these have (more) pictures 😎. And they're quite nice pictures too lmao.

Three of the books are fanbooks from Magi (I'm not sure if that's Magi the Labyrinth of Magic, but I've been reading that, so I guess I'll see within ~300 chapters), two are from Tiger and Bunny (which I wanted to watch but just haven't gotten around to it), and one from Heat Guy J (which I've never heard of, but it looks kind of great, but it's not available for streaming right now).

Again, I haven't seen any of the anime these are from, and they're in Japanese, so I've been using an online translator to translate (and the pictures help ngl), but I fucking love them. Some aren't 100% my style (I was literally talking the day before about how many fetish-y amputee mods there are for Fallout, and one book is about a character with amputated limbs in a way I'm not sure isn't fetish-y, but it's not, like, offensive I don't think), but I'm a big fan of smut idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (Also! I forgot to add that the art is very good. I'm going to keep looking up the artists to see if they've done anything else I might also like :p )

(I do have to say: these books are mostly censored [that is, no explicit shots of genitals without censor bars], but they are very adult, and they were just sitting out there for anyone to stumble on. Like when I found a Torchwood book in the kids section of Bookmans. Idk.)

Anyway! The next stuff is not smutty (sadly): Daisuki Magazine!

I hadn't heard of this magazine, but it's a mid-2000s German-language manga mag, so almost exactly a one-to-one match for my interests lol. My German is rusty, and some of the words are specific, so it's slow going reading it, but look! Fruits Basket! Which we called Frubba when we were kids because we had a million inside jokes!

(I also went back later and got Juni 2007. Also heatstroke because it is hot as all hell here.)

And lastly was another impulse purchase but also amazing: a Nightwing body pillow cover by soltian!!

Sorry for the terrible shot lmao. I wanted to put it on my pillowcase-less pillow immediately, so I had to wash it quickly.

I love this art (༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ)

I don't follow comics, but I read almost every DC (especially Batman) comic in our city's library system when I was in high school, so yeah. Also I really do like the art; it's very cute.

(Side note, all of soltion's art is cute. They have charms, and the digidestined are absolutely perfect and I love them. They also have the pillowcases in stock right now so, you know, support the artists! I'm really eyeing those keychains honestly!)

A better(?) picture of the pillowcase which also shows off the last thing I got while we were out: new bedclothes!

We stopped at Walmart because my mom had a gift card, and they had a nine-piece sheets and stuff set for $9, and I've been looking for a new blanket and pillowcases, so score! It was full size, and my bed's a twin, so it's very large, but who cares? I get almost all my bedclothes at goodwill, so I'm pleased :p

Anyway back to the goodwill trip. It was expensive, ha. Everything we got cost between $2 and $7, which is amazing but adds up, and I am so, so grateful that goodwill has a 20% off $20+ coupon and also that my sister who has a job bought this lot UwU

So it cost about $37 for a stack of doujinshi, manga mags, light novels, dnd tile sets, and a body pillow cover. So, um. Yeah. My sister and I were freaking out lmao. I don't know if we'll find such a good haul again, but I'm super happy with all this. Now I just need to make room on my packed shelves.

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

Headcanon - When he thinks you’re going to kiss him

Original title: 当他以为你要亲他

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

Your gaze flits from Victor to the bookshelf, as though pondering on something quietly. While reading his documents, Victor’s sharp senses cause him to notice this. His eyebrows arch slightly as he waits for your next move.

Finally, you come to a decision. You step forward slowly, then lean down in front of him. “Victor...”

“Dummy,” he mumbles with a chuckle. He cooperates, closing his eyes and tilting his chin slightly.

“Hm? What did I do?” You express confusion, reaching out for a novel from the shelf behind him. Since he’s blocking your way, you have no choice but to grab the book through this intimate posture.

Victor stiffens, and he opens his eyes instantly. Your face is filled with question marks as you hold the book before him.

“Why did you close your eyes?”

“...my eyes were tired, so I was resting them.”

“Oh?” You glance at him slyly. “Even though you looked pretty weird smiling with your eyes closed, I believe you.”

In contrast to what you just said, the words “I don’t believe you” are more or less etched on your face in bold.

“...a certain company’s financial status is in line with expectations. That’s why I was smiling.” Unable to ignore the teasing look in your eyes, he sets down his notebook laptop, then stands up and pinches your face. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m not!” You quickly plead for forgiveness. “You’re the boss, so whatever you say is correct!” With this, you rescue your face from his clutches, preparing to flee.

One step ahead, Victor sees through your plan. How could he possibly let you off? He tugs on your arm, pressing you to his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I just wanted to read a book to relieve boredom,” you give him an embarrassed smile. “Since your eyes were closed, I actually planned to give you a kiss reluctantly. It’s your fault for calling me a dummy.”

“Reluctantly?” Victor chuckles in spite of himself. An arm snakes around your waist, causing you to tremble. His finger pad rubs your lips, and his scent occupies all of your senses.

“Since you’re here, don’t think of leaving.”

[ GAVIN ]

Standing in front of Gavin, you mete out your commands.

“Close your eyes and lift your head.”

Gavin is currently sitting on the bed and fixing a jigsaw puzzle. Thinking that you’re playing a game, he follows your instructions obediently. As he feels your soft fingers tilting his chin upwards slightly, he thinks about how his girl is no longer as shy as before, and knows how to initiate intimacy with him now.

But… nothing happens.

Just as he’s about to open his eyes, the hand pinching his chin shifts over to his cheek, giving it a light tug. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t put much thought into it, guessing that you’re just feeling shy.

You lean over, your warm breaths brushing his face. Gavin feels his muscles stiffening.

All of a sudden, something sticks to his lips. He subconsciously opens his mouth, but very quickly realises that something’s off. The thing that made contact isn’t you, but a cold and rounded object.

“Hey, don’t bite my lipstick!” Your heart aches as you stare at the bite marks on your newly bought lipstick.

“Lipstick?” Gavin’s eyes snap open, spotting himself in the mirror behind you. Sure enough, his lips are now dyed a bright red because of you. He freezes.

You point to your own lips. “Mm. I wanted to test if the shade’s nice, but I’ve already applied another shade. I needed you to be the model.” Tilting your head to admire the view, you chuckle. “Not bad.”

The grip around your wrist tightens. Before you can react, the man in front of you nibbles your lips gently. Two shades of lipsticks meld together, forming a new colour.

After a long while, Gavin finally lets you off so that you can catch your breath. As you lay in his arms with your cheeks flushed, he lowers his head to give you a peck on the lips.

“Your new lipstick looks pretty good.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Professor Lucien!” You interlace your fingers together with his while lying in his arms.

Lucien looks down, meeting your bright and clear eyes. He responds with a knowing smile, lowering his head in compliance. “How did you know that I wanted a...”

Propping yourself up on his shoulder, you reach for a book on the shelf behind him.

Lucien: ...

“Know about what?” You snuggle yourself back into his arms. Based on his expression, you can tell what he thought was about to happen. However, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. You blink innocently. “I just wanted to grab a book.”

How could Lucien not know what’s on your mind? He bows his head to watch you, the deep pools of his eyes almost sucking you in.

“I thought my Little Miss was going to give me a kiss to recharge my batteries.” Lucien sounds wronged. Along with his usual piteous expression, you aren’t able to withstand it.

You gulp. No matter how handsome the fictional men in novels are, they can’t compare to your Professor Lucien - a feast for the eyes.

Seeing your emotions stir, Lucien follows up with his victory. “Turns out I thought too much. It’s okay, you can carry on with what you were busy with. I’ll just stay here on my own.”

He releases his hold on your waist. If you ignored Lucien’s watery gaze, you might have believed he was genuinely leaving you to your own devices.

“Pfft.” You can’t help but burst into a chuckle. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you close the distance between the both of you. Giving him a peck on the lips, you grin while asking, “Do you still want to stay here on your own?”

Lucien’s return gift is another kiss.

“I think two people might be happier than one.”

[ KIRO ]

You spot something sticking on Kiro’s hair, and think of getting it out for him.

“Kiro, lower your head.”

Misunderstanding your intentions, Kiro complies and closes his eyes. He rushes you cheerfully. “Go on, Miss Chips! I just ate a strawberry flavoured candy, so my kiss will definitely be really sweet!”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a cushion at the side and using it to smack him on the face. “You ate snacks on the sly again! And you hid them from me! I’m telling Savin!”

“Miss Chips, I lied. I didn’t eat any strawberry flavoured candy!” The undisciplined and lawless Little Kiro is most afraid of the Great Agent Savin.

“You changed your story so quickly. Who would believe you?” Although you usually fear Savin’s wrath as well, you aren’t an accomplice this time. If you were to spill the beans to Savin, he might give you permission to eat fried chicken and drink cola right in front of Kiro... Just the thought of this scene makes you happy!

Sensing your doubt, Kiro opens his mouth with an “ah”, showing that there really isn’t anything in his mouth. Then, he reveals a bag of unopened strawberry candies from behind him. “Look, I haven’t opened it yet. I wanted to eat them with you when you got back, but you wronged me.”

Taking the bag, you confirm that it hasn’t been opened. Looks like you truly maligned him. You scratch your head in embarrassment. “Sorry, Kiro. I misunderstood you.”

“Your apology is so insincere. I want a kiss!” Kiro shuts his eyes, straightforward and frank.

With a resigned chuckle, you readily give him a peck.

Your eyes snap open abruptly.

Where did that pitiful Kiro from earlier go to?

All that’s left is a bear cub with a mischievous smile. “You’ve found out, haven’t you? It was actually a tangerine flavoured candy. Miss Chips and I are accomplices now, so you can’t tell Savin!”

[ SHAW ]

You’re standing in front of him, unflinching and unblinking.

“Shaw.”

Meeting your clear eyes, the amusement in Shaw’s eyes darkens. He lowers his head obediently, letting you do as you please.

However, his tone is one of reluctance. “Tsk. I can’t say no to you. Go on.”

You toss a glance at this loose tongued rascal, reaching out towards his hair. Under his gaze of unconcealed joy and an expression which reads, “look at how much I indulge you”… you pluck bits of fur from the top of his hair, tugging on his bluish purple hair in the process.

Shaw, who is just about to wrap his arm around your shoulders for a “deep” interaction: ???

“What? Did you think I was going to kiss you?” You tease, watching his claws hang awkwardly mid-air.

Shaw reacts instantly, retracting his hand and pretending that nothing happened earlier. He glares at you, his attempts to cover up only making matters more obvious. “How’s that possible? I was referring to... yes, the thing you removed from my hair!”

“Little kids who tell lies won’t have girlfriends!” It’s rare to see him like this, and you can’t help but tease him.

“Tsk. You’re so troublesome.” He frowns. Before you can react, he grabs you by the shoulders and seals your lips. You feel a gentle nibble reminiscent of a little animal deathly afraid of breaking something.

Once your breaths return to normal, you lean against Shaw, legs wobbly. If it weren’t for his strength, you’d definitely have fallen to the ground.

Shaw has his arms around you as he presses you to him, the insuppressible smile on his lips announcing his pleasant mood.

“Who wants to be a little kid? Only intelligent adults have wives.”

More translated and original works: here

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

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sunshinestrand · 2 years

Text

We’re back this week with a snippet from my bookshop owner Carlos and author TK AU. This is the first meeting between these two dorks.

"I'll be right with you." A voice calls out from the back.

TK glances around the space, amazed by the feel of the place around him. It's warm and bright, the sun coming in through the front window. The space smells sweet, the goods from the bakery next door wafting through the air. He's only been in a few shops like this on his journey. Many of them are corporately owned and in his opinion, have lost a bit of the charm. But he finds that locally owned shops are truly the places to be.

He slowly walks through the shelves, looking at all the choices that have been carefully placed there in their individual genre tags. He turns the corner and he has to double take at the next row of shelves. When he glances up, he sees the genre reads in careful handwriting Queer Fiction. TK feels a smile pull at the corner of his lips at the sight of them all there. He steps forwards, allowing his finger to run along the spines of them as he walks down the line. When he comes to the end of the row, he comes face to face with his own book, placed onto a book holder. Next to it there is a sign, with the same handwriting that reads: featured book — TK Strand's newest bestselling romance novel. Meet TK here this week!

TK grins at the little smiley face drawn after.

"Oh hello, can I help you?" The same voice that called about before comes from behind him.

"That's okay, I was just —" His words freeze mid-sentence as he turns around to find the owner of the voice staring back at him. TK thinks he nearly feels the breath knocked from him at the sight of the man. The first thing he notices is the man’s warm brown eyes and his eyes trail to take in dark curls, t-shirt sleeves pulled tight against his biceps, before landing on a bright smile. All in all, gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe him. TK swallows hard, his throat dry and he attempts to take hold of words once again. "I was just looking."

The man smiles and oh, it's gorgeous too. "You must be TK Strand. I'm Carlos Reyes, I'm the owner."

TK shakes the fog from his head and pushes himself to step forward to shake Carlos' hand. The touch sends a wave of warmth through TK's body. "It's nice to meet you, Carlos. This is a really nice shop."

Carlos' smile widens. "Thank you, I appreciate that. Um, I can show you where you'll be for the next few days if you'd like."

TK nods and he follows Carlos back out of the shelves and to the front of the store. "Yeah, sure. Thanks for the spotlight by the way, although I think there are probably better options for you to put up there."

"Are you kidding? You're a New York Times Bestselling author, I think you more than deserve to be on the spotlight shelf." Carlos says with a chuckle. "It's a really good read by the way."

TK could barely hide his surprise. "You've read it?"

"Of course I did. I read every book that comes through here." Carlos explains. "You get to do that when you're in here alone seven days a week for nine hours. Why? Does that surprise you?"

"Well, yeah," TK says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean I don't meet too many owners that have. They just send me along, let me do the meet and greets and then I move on."

Carlos shakes his head. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with that here."

They come to a stop at a table that has been set up with a stack of TK's book sitting in the corner with a couple of permanent markers.

"Here's your table, I know it's not much but we have a coffee maker and I bought some coffee although I'm not too sure what you like. We also get fresh muffins every day from next door so you're more than welcome to those too."

"Oh, you didn't have to do all that."

"It's no problem, I like to make everyone feel at home here. It's my number one goal." Carlos says. "Everyone should feel welcome when they're here."

TK's quickly finding out that Carlos isn't like anyone he's ever met. Aside from his god-like appearance, he also checks boxes of being down to earth and kind. He figures he will not be in any rush for these next few days to be over.

TK's brought from his thoughts when the bell dings on the door once again. Carlos glances over and gives a smile to the person who had just walked in.

"I'll be right back, okay? Make yourself at home." He says to TK before moving past him. He only makes it a few steps before he stops and turns. "By the way, the photograph on the back cover does not do you justice."

TK is thankful Carlos turns around right away because a blush runs fast up his neck and hits his cheeks. He bites back a smile as he looks at the table and he thinks he's going to like it here much more than he thought.

#911 lone star #tarlos #userkimmy #tusersonia #userthai #useream #wip wednesday #paige writes

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ererokii · 3 years

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Line without a Hook || E. Jaeger & J. Kirstein

➳ Jean Kirsten x Fem Reader x Eren Jaeger

Word count: 4,517 Warnings: angst, fluff, unrequited love, cursing ➳ note: this is based off the song Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery! I’ve been thinking this for a long time and I’m super excited by how it came out! Also big thanks to @reddriot for betaing!

➳ Synopsis: is love really worth it? Let me say, it’s not always worth it.

You can hold my hand if no one’s home.

Do you like it when I’m away?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

It starts out simple really. A boy and a girl. Childhood friends, to be precise. Those two are inseparable. Nothing can tear the friends apart, besides their parents, of course. Like two peas in a pod.

Jean says he knows you like the back of his hand. He truly means that. He knows your favorite boy bands from when you were younger, how many terrible phases you’ve gone through, favorite foods, and places. If he wrote a novel about the things you told him, he would be a renowned author.

Since kindergarten to now, in the middle of your junior year, you and Jean have been side by side. You told him everything. From random vents and gossiping about the rude girls in your class to how horrible your period cramps were— even though Jean hated hearing about the last, he stuck through it for you.

Only you.

The pavement that followed the street your house was on is memorable. Jean can recall the amount of times you’ve had races, chalk scribbles covering the grey that would be washed away by the angry neighbors.

He listens to you as you talk about a kid getting in trouble in your Calculus class, watches how lively your motions are as you speak. Jean can’t help but smile when a laugh slips past your lips and you glance at him. There’s an unknown sparkle in his eyes, one filled with love.

You haven’t changed one bit, he thinks as he faces back forward, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His mind begins to wander as you both continue down the pavement, part of your routine when school ends.

Your houses are right next to each other. You’ve been with him since you were in diapers. He was there when your first tooth came out, congratulating you, and you were there for him when he finally learned to ride his bike with two wheels instead of three.

The bubbly lovable five-year-old back then is the same as you are now.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Oh all my emotions

Feel like explosions when you are around

A sigh of disappointment leaves Jean’s lips when he listens to Connie talk about something he has learned over the weekend (something completely stupid— he just doesn’t care). Currently, the students are at lunch, the cafeteria full with loud shouts and random noises.

“Connie, shut up,” Sasha groans, placing her water bottle on the table, wiping her crumbs off. “No one cares that you finally figured out how to stick a spoon to your nose.”

“What do you mean?! You were the one who showed me!”

The brunette gasps and looks over his way, cream cheeks tinted with an adorable shade of pink, pointing a finger at him. The bickering between the two commence as Jean listens, slightly amused.

As much as he indulges in their argument, he can't help but wonder where you are.

It’s not like you to skip lunch, especially without at least letting him know. Did you stay behind to talk to a friend? A teacher? Maybe you went to the bathroom.

But it’s at least 15 minutes in.

“Sasha,” he speaks up, slicking back his hair. The sound of her name catches her attention, making her look at him. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“Y/N?” she asks in a whisper before her lips curl in a grin, already knowing why he asked. “Do you miss her?”

“Just answer my goddamn question!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Connie asks, looking between his friends before stopping his gaze on Jean. “Why do you need Y/N?”

“Oh, you know! He lik-”

“Shut up!” Jean shouts, catching the attention of nearby students, his face heating up as his cheeks turn a darker pigment. “Just answer me!”

“If you must know,” she taunts him, twirling a strand of hair from her loose ponytail. “I saw her talking to someone in the hallway. Must be important, she’s been there for quite some time. Might want to be her knight in shining armor and saving her, huh?” she cocks her head to the side, staring at one of the windows in the room, watching as the branches of trees sway from the harsh winds.

The atmosphere outside was cold, breezes rushing down on anyone who was not inside. The sun was hidden by the thick grey blankets filled with rainwater, waiting to shower the world. The temperature recently has been dropping, mid 50’s at least. The weather was a shock, to say the least.

“I didn’t know Jean likes her!”

“What do you mean?!” Sasha gasps, turning her body to face her small-minded friend. “It’s only obvious! You must be really stupid then!”

“Well, how could you tell?!”

Before Jean has a chance to interrupt Sasha, she begins to rant. He prefers to stay silent, clasping his hands together in his lap as he lowers his head, finding interest in the marbled tiles of the floor his feet rest on.

The words that slip past Sasha’s lips reach his ear and out the other.

It’s easy to tell, Connie. Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything? Here you guys are, two close friends, I thought you would have known about his crush. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on every time he ditched plans with us to go hang out with her. He’s whipped, and you’re too stupid to know it.

His cheeks turn a shade of pink as his eyes squeeze shut, her words replaying in his head like a broken record player. Each sentence is like a knife stabbing away at his brain, causing the slightest ache to form in his frontal region.

She’s right. Anything she just said five minutes ago, is completely and utterly correct.

He can still hear her talking about it to Connie, but he can only focus on three sentences that stick to him like glue.

Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything?

Memories of him helping you in any possible way come to mind. He can’t recall how many times he has entered class two minutes late because you had so much to carry.

He stares at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at. It reminds him of those cliche animated movies with hearts in the character's eyes. He’s blinded by his love for you, that he never noticed any signs that you don’t feel the same way about him. His heart races miles per hour when you’re around. Sometimes he worries for himself that maybe, his heart might explode within him.

“Anyway, lunch has about 20 minutes left...where is she?” Connie mutters, scratching the top of his head.

“I don’t know, but,” Sasha grows quiet, listening to the ongoing thunder from the outside. The lights flicker for a second, a couple of yelps emitting from other students, slightly afraid that the power might go off while school is in session. “The storm is almost here.”

“Y/N!” Connie suddenly yells, pointing in the direction of the door, your body jogging closer to the table. “Where have you been?!”

“Sorry!” you laugh, out of breath as you drop your things on the bench, taking a seat beside Jean. “I got caught up in a conversation with someone! I guess I lost track of time for a bit.”

“I messaged you like four times,” Jean mutters, glancing over at you before looking at the table, playing with the plastic straw that he used to drink out of.

“You did?” you ask, pulling your phone out from your pocket, lips puckering when indeed he did so. “I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t even feel my phone vibrate.”

“Oh, whatever, who cares! Eat! Or I’ll eat your food!” Sasha yells, pointing a finger at you, a smile gracing her features.

You laugh along with her as you converse with your peers, the conversation you had replaying in the back of your mind. Jean chooses not to intervene, instead would rather listen.

The roaring thunder plays in the background, everyone paying no mind to it. What he doesn’t know is that the storm is much closer than Jean could have thought.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Listen close, it’s a no

The wind is a pounding on my back

And I found hope in a heart attack

Oh at last, it is past

Now I’ve got it, and you can’t have it

Another evening, another study session, another day of bottling up his feelings until he can no longer hold them inside.

The storm made its way to shore, raining pouring down and even some hail; not what anyone was expecting.

Jean mindlessly flips through the pages of his English book, not even paying attention to the words as he checks how many pages are in chapter five.

“This seems pointless,” he adds with a sigh, tossing the book on your bed along with his highlighter he uses to annotate with. “I should just find a summary online or something, I don’t want to read this.”

“And why is that?” you ask, looking up from your book, placing the hardcover against your thighs. “Is it boring to you?”

“No,” he mutters, rolling onto his back. “It’s stupid. This love crap.”

“Well...it is a romance story, the teacher told us when we got the book. But why do you think it’s dumb?”

“He writes letters for her, and in the end, she ends up rejecting him. I don’t think that’s romantic.”

“And? It’s beautiful on his part,” you close your eyes as you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a grunt. “It’s the fact that he wrote to her every day. It’s like he poured his soul into every word. The words he uses are..literally everything. It makes me swoon over him, and he’s not real. Makes me wonder if someone would do that for me.”

Jean’s head perks up at your words, one of his eyebrows raised in curiosity when he notices the bashful look on your face, eyes averted to the comforter on your bed. “Why do you have that dopey look on your face?”

“Huh?!” your eyes are blown open as you look over at him. “What are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about that, idiot,” he points at your face, watching your eyes cross faintly to stare at his finger. “You’re acting about that guy in the book.”

The patter of the rain is the only noise that fills the void called silence in your room. His warm eyes don’t leave your face at all, waiting for your answer. You’ve been acting weird ever since you were late to lunch this past week.

He watches your mouth open as if you’ll say something but close it right away, like you were concealing anything you had to hide.

“...well? Y/N? Are you there?”

“Yeah!” you cough into your elbow, running a hand down your face. “I-- you can’t tell anyone.”

“You know I never tell anyone what we talk about.”

You’re silent, a bit too quiet than usual. You fiddle with your fingers before blurting the words that have been eating away at you.

Jean’s heart stops for a moment, eyes wide in shock when he processes it. His blood runs cold as he’s unable to move, frozen like a statue. The signals in his brain begged him to respond, but he couldn’t. He could hear the faintest sound of bells ringing in his ears; all noise surrounding him was now drowned out by his thoughts.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

“You like someone?” he asks in a whisper, barely audible to your ears, but you heard as you nod shyly, biting down on your lip. “Well... who is it?”

“That’s...I can’t say it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m afraid to say it out loud because I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”

Friendship? That could be anyone at this point.

I have to figure out who, he thinks as he draws random patterns into the sheets. “Well, tell me about him then. Is he in our grade?” he asks.

“Yeah, he is. He’s in four of my classes.”

Jean was in four of your classes. Math, English, Foreign Language, and Science.

“That’s it?”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Can I finish before you interrupt? Thank you.”

You pause momentarily before speaking again.

“He’s stubborn. I’ve noticed that his demeanor changes when it depends on who he is with. He seems like a hardass and looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered, but he seems like a total softie when he’s with people he loves. Not to mention he’s hot...and tall. He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.”

Jean takes every word you say into consideration. He’s stubborn, it seems that he doesn’t like to be around people he doesn’t know but loves those he does know. He knows he’s hot. Practically every day he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks about how good he looks.

He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he really seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.

Jean can feel his doubt and worry turn into happiness and confidence as you keep on ranting, to which he’s not fully paying attention anymore. He knows it's him. It has always been him.

No one else.

Jean likes you.

And you like Jean, that’s all there is to it.

“Do you want to tell him?”

“Yeah...” you trail off, scratching the nape of your neck. “I want to tell him on Friday after school. Do you think he’ll like me back?”

“I think he would. How could he not? He would be a total idiot to reject you.”

You hum at his reassurance, placing your hand on his, squeezing gently.

“Thanks, Jean.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Darling when I’m fast asleep

I've seen this person watching me

Saying, “Is it worth it? Is it worth it?”

Tell me, is it worth it?

Friday comes, and Jean can hardly wait for school to end. He’s not paying attention, his eyes constantly staring from the whiteboard in the front to the clock that tauntingly ticks slower than usual.

He bites down on the pink end of his pencil in anticipation, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor, the noise resonating through the classroom.

Maybe I should just keep my eyes off the clock, he thinks, lowering his head back to the worksheet their teacher gave the class.

Econ class was a drag. He could care less about the differences in macro and microeconomics, the same with Communism and Capitalism. It’s just a bunch of words that don’t make sense to his brain.

This was one of the classes he didn’t have with you, the last class.

Instead of doing his worksheet (luckily, the teacher said it would be for homework if it wasn’t finished), Jean proceeded to think about ways he could tell you his feelings.

He could be old fashioned, tell you how much he adores you and how happy you make him feel when you’re around. How his heart can be heard from the outside of his body, how his hands got warm and clammy, maybe sweaty when he became too nervous.

He could ask you out on a date. Take you somewhere, one of the places you’ve told him in the past that would make a great date for you. He smiles when he thinks about taking you downtown at night, looking at the soft lights that would brighten the streets; loving the sparkle in your orbs as you look around in awe.

He hums, pleased with himself when he figures out what he’ll do, scratching the back of his ear.

He wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

You glance at your table partner, looking at his piece of paper before looking down at yours, displeased how his is able to look better than yours. You pick up your eraser, gently wiping the shadings away from your drawing, careful not to crease your paper.

“It’s not that hard you know, you just don’t know how to shade.”

“I know how to shade, Eren,” you reply with a huff, placing your eraser back down. “It’s just...this is a bit harder than usual.”

“All you have to do is follow the markings,” he presses the edge of his drawing pencil against the reference photo both of you are using, tracing the shape of it. “You could honestly just copy the photo, I doubt this woman would even notice.”

You chuckle at his choice of words, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. “I don’t think she would anyway. She just stares at it and calls it an A. I bet for our expressive project, she wouldn’t notice if we copied each other.”

He shakes his head with a smile, the loose strands of his hair swaying with his head movement. “No, she wouldn’t,” he rolls the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows, grabbing his pencil again. “Then again, we are working on it with each other.”

“Speaking of that, what should we do?”

“Up to you, Y/N. I don’t mind. I’m just trying to pass this stupid class anyway.”

You relish in the silence between you as you gaze at him from your peripheral. You take notice how his hair frames his face effortlessly to the dip in his nose. It’s perfect how it forms to his cupid’s bow to his lips; not too big nor too small either. Just right.

You clear your throat, scratching at the nape of your neck. “Why not do...stages of love?”

That catches his interest.

“Stages of love?” he asks, moving in his chair to face you, a hand propping his head up. “Elaborate?”

“Like you know...how we gain a crush on someone. We like how they make us feel, and soon we think about them some more. Maybe make little scenarios in our head. Then we gain the crush and want to be around them. You know what I mean, right?”

He’s silent, hues that represent the blue of rivers, boring into your own. At first, you think he hates your idea, but then the corner of his lips curls into his infamous grin. “Yeah, I like that. Did you have anything else in mind?”

“Maybe...rejection?”

“Rejection?” he repeats, a bit shocked at how romantic your words were, to something filled with sadness. “And why would you want to do rejection?”

“W-Well,” you stutter, unsure how you should put it. “Everyone always talks about the good in love but never the bad. And I think it could be done good, you know?”

He hums, scratching away at his chin before nodding. “Yeah, alright. That sounds oddly specific, but I like it. We can honestly get started soon, that way, we can finish faster and not worry about it.”

His smile throws you for a loop, your face heating up as you pick up your pencil, trying to distract yourself.

“Say, Y/N?”

“Yes, Eren?” you reply a bit too quickly, cursing yourself out internally for sounding too desperate.

“Can we talk?” his cheeks are a shade of pink, his eyes averted as he plays with one of the strings of his hood, reminding you how a child would distract themselves. The tips of his shoe nudge against yours, barely kicking gently.

“Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No, I mean after school.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

And in my eyes, there is a tiny dancer

Watching over me, he’s singing,

Jean storms out of his Econ class with a grin, hands gripping onto the straps of his backpack as he looks down one end of the hallway before going down the other direction. The art room was three classes down his. Usually, Jean will wait right there by the door for you since you take ages to finally leave the classroom.

When Jean finally reaches the room, he sees that the doors are locked, and the lights inside are off.

Huh, that’s weird, you’re always one of the last to leave, nor are you ever this early.

He stands there for a few more seconds, peering in through the small glass, and sees nothing before taking a step back and quickly continues to walk down the hall. His legs are quicker, going down the two flights of stairs.

His eyes frantically search for the yellow shirt you wore, unable to find you anywhere.

“Sasha!” he calls out once he reaches the end of the stairs, running towards the girl and their friend, who was at the lockers, pulling things she needed to take home for the weekend.

The brunette looks over her shoulder, stopping her conversation with Connie as she shuts her locker. “Yeah, Jean?”

He pants, leaning on his knees before letting out a deep breath and standing straight up. “Have you seen Y/N?”

She ponders for a while before shaking her head, looking over at Connie, who shakes his head, shrugging. “We haven’t seen her since Art class.”

“You didn’t see where she went at all?”

The events before class ending play in her mind before she gasps, snapping her fingers, pointing up at Jean. “Yeah, I know where she went!”

“...are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?!”

She mocks him for a second before pulling her phone out. “I could have seen her leave with Eren. I think they went to the bench in the back. You know the one I’m talking about?”

He’s taken aback for a moment before shaking his head, retaining the information. “Alright, thanks.”

Why would you even be with Eren right now? You never meet with him after-

“Are we still on for this weekend?!” Connie yells when Jean is making his way down the corridor.

“Yeah, we are!” Jean's voice travels through the air, reaching both of his friends, hands clammy as they’re shoved in the front pocket of his pants.

The walk to the back courtyard was tiresome. His feet seemed to drag behind him, an aching feeling forming in his gut. Thoughts pounded against his skull repeatedly, trying to force him to stop. He wants to stop, but he has to go.

He has to tell you he loves you.

He can’t help but smile when you describe the boy you like this week. In his mind and most certainly his heart, he was the king of the world sitting on his high horse as he screamed in victory, letting the whole world know that the person he likes, feels the same way about him.

The fresh air from the outside meets his nostrils as he deeply inhales, allowing it to enter his body before exiting. The sun is the first thing he meets with as he exits the building, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes away from the harsh light. He mutters something under his breath as he looks around for a second.

“She’s a,

She’s a lady and I’m just a boy”

His honey orbs finally stop on a bench where you and Eren are seated, that’s not too far away, but his body is hidden from your view. He lets out a sigh of relief, leaves crunching underneath his feet as he walks, not taking long strides, rather walking slow to rethink what he’ll say.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long...no,” he mutters, stopping in his tracks as he looks down at the green grass and leaves, kicking away at them. “I’ve loved- no, that sounds a bit aggressive, goddammit,” he groans, tugging at the roots of his hairs. “Why is this so fucking hard?!” he growls underneath his breath, leaning against the brick wall.

He never was anything else but honest with you. How could he say it?

What if this ruins your relationship?

...what if you liked Eren?

His breath hitches in his throat when realization dawns on him. His lips part, a soft exhale releasing from within him. His fingers curl around nothing, as if he was holding the air’s hand. The tips of his fingers shake, his whole body stiffening as he stares hard at nothing.

How could he be so stupid?

It all made sense now. How you stayed behind during lunch that one time without saying anything; in the back of his mind that day, he knew that someone had to be a boy, maybe a girl. Even then, you would always let him know.

Jean should have known from the beginning that you only saw him as a brother.

His chest aches as his vision goes blurry, biting down on the inside of his lip to the point where he can taste the bitter metallic on his tongue. He squeezes his eyes shut before opening, wishing he hadn’t at that moment.

He’s singing

“She’s a, she’s a lady and I am just a line without a hook.”

His heart breaks, stomach-dropping when he sees Eren’s hand brings you closer to his body, lips pressed up against yours; your hand placed on his cheek, cradling his face. Even from where he stands, he can sense the urgency in the kiss, how your bodies move together as one, how your fingers grip onto him like he’ll leave any moment.

His lower lip quivers for a second, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing his throat. Jean cranes his neck upward, looking at the sky, muttering the words, “Why him?” over and over like a mantra, no other words coming to mind.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. Not Eren, just you. Those moments where you laugh, cry, or stay silent, those are the moments that flash in his head.

Did he do something to you? Was it something he said?

Did you ever like him at all?

“It’s pointless,” he whispers, pushing himself off the brick wall, immediately making a beeline for the doors. He swallows harshly, legs moving faster than ever, wanting to get out of this hell hole called reality.

Like every day, you’ll walk down the same pavement you’ve been walking on for years.

Only this time, he’s walking alone.

Oh, and if I could take it all back

I swear that I would pull you from the tide.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

taglist: @sleepysnk @jaegerbomb20 @reddriot @kkiimmberly @kingtamakimurder @tamasoft @byougen @spike-this-ass @crimsonbows-and-arrows @squidonmywall @thicmitten (message me to be apart of it!)

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #attack on titan imagines #shingeki no kyojin imagines #eren imagines #eren jaeger imagines #jean imagines #jean kirstein imagines

567 notes · View notes

accio-victuuri · 2 years

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