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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

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My Life is One Complication After Another 3

Cursing Ahead 🤬

Ao3 *** First *** Previous *** Next

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Ever since Mari's classmates stopped talking with her, they also stopped asking her for favors. Along with a blocked and rotating schedule for patrols meant that she actually had a sleep schedule. Sure she didn't get nearly enough but that was what coffee is for.

That was how she found herself down in the bakery with her papa. Roy had called her and the four of them talked and it was comfortable. Mari was the one who opened and was watching the front. She was still talking with Roy, but now it was on a headset, as he was out patrolling In Starling City.

"So as I was saying before we were oh so rudely interrupted." came Roy's voice in her ear. "So Ice cream and movies?"

A soft laughter escaped her and a smile on her lips.

"Sounds gre..." the bell at the door chimed. "Hey guys come in," she greeted the Waynes.

"Let me guess the bats?" Roy supplied as Dick bounced towards the counter.

"Good morning Marinette!" Dick practically sang loud enough for even Roy to hear.

"God how the hell is he so chipper so early." she heard Roy grumble.

"God damn morning people," she grumbled. That elicited laughter from both Roy and Jason.

"Amen to that!" Tim seconded in a monotone lifting a coffee cup. "Maman I'm going to take the Waynes up." she called poking her head into the kitchen. Her Maman nodded so she picked up her phone and walked towards them.

"I'll Let you go," Roy was about to hang up.

"Wait how about we give the Bats a heart attack." she smirked changing to the ancient language of miracles.

"I like the way you think, I'll catch you later." he responded in the same tongue.

"See ya then." she smiled, switching back the language. Ending the call and removing the ear piece. “Are you guys coming or do I have to drag you guys?" she turned back already at the door. Granted most of them showed confused faces and side eyes, but she smiled. They followed her without saying a word.

Once they were in the apartment she excused herself to change into more appropriate gear. She activated Kaalki’s miraculous, who then silently portaled out.

That being said she changed into a pair of black skinny cargo pants with red combat boots. A black long sleeve shirt under a cropped red sleeveless hoodie. Her hair was half down with red and pink streaks and a mini white gold backpack with three patches in the same white gold finished her outfit. She grabbed four parcels and went down.

"So we can either do the boring ground tour or," she held up the bundles. "we can turn up the speed."

"I like the way you think Pixie Pop." Jason stood and she handed him his.

"Roy sent me you guy's sizes, so I altered and customized a few things." she smiled. "bathroom is over there and the guest room is next to it." Dick looked torn between excited and horrified when handed his stack.

Tim seemed awake, but she knew better, "go change and I'll have a fresh pot of coffee ready." He nodded robotically as he got up.

She set the last bunch next to Damian, who was looking like an angry kitten. She sat down next to him and leaned in.

"What are you.." he started but Mari whispered in his ear.

"The jacket has a hidden sling for a katana, which will be practically invisible when on." His eyes widened slightly and there was a bit of slack in his jaw now. Before turning into an amused smirk. "Use my room up the stairs and through the hatch." she finished as he headed up the stairs.

"I'm impressed he let you close without struggling," Bruce broke his silence, as she finished prepping the coffee maker.

"Well he would have if," she began as Damian practically crashed down the stairs and all but tackled Bruce before rushing out the door. The closest she had ever seen her baby brother smile, which effectively made her smile.

"Holy crap! What are you?!" Dick made himself known.

"More importantly what the fuck did you do with Demon spawn!" Jason shouted from next to Tim, who was being propped up by both Jason and Dick.

"Tt. I am right here Todd." The scowl reappearing on his features. "It is adequate Dupain-Cheng."

"I'll take it as a compliment on one condition."

"And that is?" he rose a brow.

"You call me Marinette not Dupain-Cheng. I'm your sister aren't I?"

He seemed to war with himself for a moment before stating. "That is acceptable, Marinette."

At this point all the bats in the room were playing a game of ping-pong between Marinette and Damian. They were trying to figure out what magic spell Marinette must have used, when in reality she just seemed to fall into Damian’s good graces automatically. OK so maybe Marinette being the holder of the ladybug miraculous as well as being the great guardian of the order has that affect on most people, a sense of respect and trust that seems to permeate her aura.

She was handing Tim a huge mug as the front door swung open to reveal her Maman.

"Hello Bruce," Sabine greeted.

"It is good to see you Sabine," was his response.

“Maman," Mari pulled her mother's attention from her biological father. "These are Bruce's boys and my brothers. Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian." she motioned to each one respectively.

"It's nice to meet all of you." Sabine smiled, "why don't all of you get something from the bakery before you go."

After finishing their small breakfast in the park Mari pulled out a map and a marker.

"So what do you guys want to see?" They listed off places that she marked down. She added a few to the list to fill it out, marked the route and took a picture and sent it to Roy. "Okay so this will work." she glanced at her phone. A quick look on social media showed no one has found Andre yet. She pulled out a case of comms and added, "Also keep your eyes out for Andre."

"Who is that?" Dick asked taking the earpiece.

"Andre's Ice cream cart, the best ice cream in Paris." Marinette answered.

"Then why must we look for him?" Damian added.

"Well he changes locations daily and turns it into a game of tag of sorts."

"Alright, lead the way Pixie." with a smirk she dashed off her brothers close on her heels.

Yes this is the best way to get to see the city, but this was also a test to see how the bats did without their toys.

Getting to Notre Dame was uneventful. Dick kept up a steady conversation with her, just a step behind with Damian, Jason brought up the rear but would constantly toss in quips and questions. Damian and Tim were mostly quiet, unless they were trying to get one of their brothers to stop a particularly embarrassing story.

Getting to the Louve was even more entertaining. Now that Dick had a feel for the Parisian roofs he would do flips and vaults to make her laugh. In the Louve is another story.

They had accidentally ran into some of her classmates, quite literally. She and her brothers were taking goofy 'walk like an Egyptian' group photos on the second floor of the Egyptian exhibit, the mini Ladybug camera was reattaching to her phone charm when Tim began asking her questions about it.

"Well my best friend loves anime, and we kinda sorta binged the entire Dragon Ball series and when we saw the ladybug camera. He said it would be impossible to create and maintain the quality of the image. So I kinda sorta made it out of spite." she mumbled the end.

"Hell if you weren't my sister I would beg Bruce to adopt you," Tim stated. "Do you have the files I would love to look through them. Maybe send them to Babs or Cy!"

"Sure I think I have it on a flash drive." That was when a tall body, walking backwards slammed into her, pushing her into Jason. "oof."

"You okay." Dick was in full mama hen mode fretting over her.

"I wasn't watching where I was going." the figure spoke as he turned around. "I'm sor." the words died on his tongue, Kim.

Max, Alix, Nino, Alya, and oh kwami no Lila, who were now all snickering.

"I'm fine Dick," she smiled to reassure him. However her classmates were shocked.

Lila of course was the one who broke the silence, by beginning to cry. "I'm so sorry about her. I know she hates me but to be so rude to a complete stranger!" her sobs breaking the sentence while her lackeys went to console her, glaring daggers at Marinette.

"Seriously girl," Alya began to scold her. "Your little out burst not only made Lila cry. Your insulting someone who is just trying to be nice."

She and her brothers were now standing awkwardly being scolded by a teenager. After three minutes of trying to figure out what they were being scolded for and why the guys hadn't apparently left.

"What the fuck did she do that your yelling at her for?" Jason finally broke Alya's rant. Now it was the five Parisians and the Italian to stand there confused.

"She called him a dick," Alya sighed exasperated.

"Yes." Dick answered confusing them further.

"Dick."Tim now called.

"What?!"

"Dick!!" Damian, Marinette, Tim, and Jason all called, and immediately began laughing.

"What? Oh, oh," a sheepish smile now on his face. “Names Richard but I go by Dick,” he explained to those who weren’t laughing, smiling at them.

"Tt. this is why I call you Grayson." Damian rolled his eyes. "Besides this one still has not apologized." he jabbed a finger to Kim.

"It's not worth it Damian,” Marinette shook her head. "We should head back to the bakery anyways. Maman has probably finished scolding Bruce." she smirked.

"Damn I wish I was a fly on the wall for that conversation" Jason lamented.

"Well..." she held up the ladybug charm and flipped it over showing an empty space.

"Two!" Tim shouted.

"Anyone who beats me back gets a copy," she smiled.

"Your on." Jason nodded as he vaulted over the safety wall from the second floor. Damian and Dick sprinted in opposite directions.

"Sorry Mars your gonna loose." Tim shouted as the last to leave.

"We'll see," she shot back. "Bye," She turned to her classmates as she grabbed the railing above and flipped up and over to the third floor, running to one of the secret zip lines the miraculous team set up.

"What the fuck" was faintly heard behind her, all but Lila and Max shouted by the sounds of it, as she jumped from the window.

She made up quite a bit of distance and seemed to be on Damian's heel. She had passed Tim and Dick was a few steps behind. Jason was just out of arm reach. So with a burst of speed both she and Damian were shoulder to shoulder with Jason.

The three of them simultaneously practically crashed into the side door of the bakery.

"I won."

"In your dreams Todd."

"I beat both you and Pixie"

"Check your eyes, or do you need the camera installed in your helmet." Jason's gaze hardened at Damian's words.

"How about we call it a three way tie and you both get a copy." Mari interrupted. "We should head up." Laughing Marinette opened the door and went up.

Lunch was rambunctious, but she was coming to expect that with her brothers.

“Too bad we couldn’t find that ice cream guy Mari,” Tim spoke up once everyone had finished eating.

“Oh let’s see if anyone has posted where he’s at today!” She went to check her phone but a message ended up distracting her.

Andres in your favorite spot I’ll meet you there at 7 your time.

"Cool he’ s in my favorite spot in all of Paris which just happens to be the last spot on our list today," she announced, sending off a text, setting her phone down, screen up.

Can't wait Katniss

"Why don’t you all go and Mari can get to know Bruce," Sabine offered.

OK granted it’s a good idea, maybe I should get to know my biological father but am I ready to? Do I want to? Am I yes, yes I want to get to know my biological father, yes I want my family to grow, my brothers are such protective goofballs and I love them already.

"Sounds good," she smiled.

That was when her phone lit up from a message. She went to pick it up, but she was to slow.

Jason was the one who snacked her phone. "Message from Katniss says see ya then Peeta. So who's Katniss Pixie."

"Well..." she started but she began to blush furiously.

"That would be her boyfriend," her Maman decided to add before heading back down to the bakery with Papa.

Dick pounced asking a million and one questions, Bruce physically froze but she could tell his mind was racing because that look was much the same as hers. Jason was pensive, while Tim and Damian just seemed bored or tired.

So that was how she found herself talking about Roy, blushing furiously. While simultaneously avoiding his name and details that would tip any of them off. After about a half hour of her answering questions did Dick start telling her about his fiancée. How they were planning on setting a date for the wedding.

After that the next few hows was spent sharing stories and tidbits of themselves.

However, thanks to Dick a design was swimming in her mind. so she did the only logical thing and ran up to her room. Grabbed three drives, her tablet and pen and ran back down. She tossed the red drive to Tim, and Jason and Damian each a black drive. Plopped down and began stretching out an Italian suit with a nock lapel. A rough coloration of a midnight blue offset by a sapphire. Accents of golden thread, emerald buttons and an Osiria rose in the lapel. She signed the design 'Mira Luck' and handed Dick the tablet.

"So I couldn't help myself," she begun to fidget. "But in my defense you told a designer about a wedding and my brain wouldn't stop screaming at me until this was on something. So what do you think? I know its rough but."

"Holy Shit your Mira Luck as in M, Jagged Stones personal designer. You are M as in the designer for the Lucky Spot!!" Tim screamed lunging to take the tablet from Dick.

"That's me," a blindingly bright smile lit up her features.

"So what do you think?" she asked again.

"It's amazing we were actually hoping to talk to you about Kori’s dress." Dick smiled. "I could call her it's not too late there."

"Perhaps it would be best to discuss it in person when Marinette next goes, that way she can get to know Gotham." Bruce interjected.

"That actually might be sooner than you think," she responded.

"I was actually accepted to be an exchange student for the next semester at Gotham Academy."

"Wait you’re willing we going to Gotham to study! You ’re going to Gotham willingly. Bruce I think your daughter might be a little crazy." Jason surprisingly brought up.

"I might be but but it’s no crazier than Paris and it’s a Akumas. Besides I would love to design your fiancée’s dress and we should head over to Andre’s ice cream before the sunsets that way we can watch the lighting of the Eiffel tower." She got up and called out. "Hey Jason mind passing me my backpack."

"Yeah sure," he went around he couch to grab it and toss it to her but before he did he finally seemed to notice the patches. "Wait are these The Outlaws."

"Yeah Red Hood, Arsenal, Star Fire, and Bizarro." she was smiling.

"Why choose The Outlaws?" Tim brought up.

"Honestly it was because Roy mentioned something about Arsenal and Red Hood and I ended up liking of the logos, so I made them into the backpack," she shrugged. "Besides unless you’re looking at it close enough you can’t tell which is always fun to see if people pay attention to it, let’s go."

At that the six of them walked out of the apartment, away from the bakery towards the Palais de Chaillot.

"So what's so special about Andre's Ice cream?" B asked.

"Personally I think he is a meta. But what he does is he can either see your true reflection or that of the person best suited to you."

"So he sees souls?" Tim added.

"Not quite, more like he sees the main qualities of you or your go." she tapped her chin.

"But he is meta,” Tim tried to figure.

"That's the only explanation I can come up with but I have no idea." Marinette shrugged.

"So how does he do it." Tim was now fully invested in this.

"Well you either ask for love or self and he usually does three to four ice cream flavors and gives a short reason."

They were now at the top of the stairs at the Palais de Chaillot looking out at the Eiffel Tower. They stood there as the last of the light faded from the sky. The city was dark for a moment as the Eiffel Tower lit up and slowly the lamps lit up.

"So that's why this is your favorite spot Minnie." A voice behind her chuckled. She turned around and nearly tackled him.

"Hey speedy." she pecked his cheek.

Not a second later did Jason scream, "Roy!"

"Ready for that movie?” Roy asked her an arm around her shoulders.

"Of course," she smiled. "See you guys around."

"What the fuck are you doing in Paris Roy!?" Jason screamed.

"Um... Date night," he answered. The Waynes were now practically surrounding the couple.

"What?" Apparently it was Dick's turn to yell.

"Seriously. I thought you said the bats and birds were detectives." she spoke just loud enough for them to hear. "It's kinda hard to believe with the big bat having a heart attack over there." Sure enough Bruce was seriously hyperventilating.

"Oh mind giving this to LB?" He handed her a small nondescript red box.

"Sure," Marinette took the box, "Au Revoir."

From there they left and oh kwamii did she wish she could replay that again, oh wait I can.

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tamagochiie · 3 years

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pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of this series! i’m very excited to start this, and i hope everyone who reads it enjoys it as well! i got the idea from a manga i was binge reading a while back, so the themes and a few of the plot points are different, but as it progresses, i’ve made it my own.

anyway, happy christmas! see you next week!

master list

life as she’s known it >>

You notice the subtle clench of Kenma's jaw beneath the warm glow of the hallway's light. His hooded gaze strained by hours upon hours of gaming meets your wavering grin. The gears in his head are turning very slowly, and since silence has fallen upon the atmosphere of your shared apartment, you can actually hear the little squeaks as your poor boyfriend tries to fathom the sight before him.

You have quite a knack for bringing peculiar things home without permission; the little frog you adopted on the side of the road during your commute home one stormy night, the mud pie your nephew made for you that stunk the entire apartment for weeks because you didn't have the heart to throw it away—at least not immediately; and the dinner you brought home from the self-proclaimed "legitimate" kebab restaurant that resides in the sketchier side of the city.

All quirky things that Kenma had accepted and grown used to.

But this? This was so far from the bar you had set for his expectations, he can't help but wonder if you're pulling a prank, or maybe even actually committing a crime. But the glint of guilt and sorrow painting so deep into your face tells him otherwise.

Oh, how the poor gamer wishes it was a prank.

You swallow your fear, forcing it all the way down to the pit of your stomach. You've practiced all you've needed to say in the ride home, but all you can manage is stuttering, "I-I can..I can explain," in rather hushed tone.

There goes all my practice, you think to yourself.

Kenma raises a brow, still peering at you with the driest expression. The child in your arms begins to weigh heavier than the pressure placed upon your chest.

Ah, he just might break up with me after this...

"This is—uh, this one behind me is Eiji—Ejij say hi." The young boy behind you bows shyly, his greeting softer than a whisper it feels like you imagined it. "And this little one—sleeping soundly—this one's Yuki..."

Kenma blinks away at your words, face unamused. You regret not even trying to bring home some cake. Maybe if you did, he wouldn't be so...upset? Is he upset or is it just his face again? You can never really tell.

You huff, quietly jumping to the harsh conclusion this'll be the moment he ends things with you. But you won't go down without at least a little fight.

"Look," You sigh, shifting your hold beneath Yuki's tiny bum so he doesn't slip away, "They needed a place to stay, and no one was willing to take them!" Your lips fall dry and the more you speak, the more your words come out strained. "In a room full of people who—who called themselves your family for so many years fall silent the moment they needed help! No one spoke up to help them! It was so bad, Kenma! I-If you were there you—"

You bite your tongue, catching yourself before you're swept away by the current of your rage.

A deep, shaky sigh escapes him. His eyes finally tearing away from you as he cranes his head back, seemingly accepting his temporary defeat. "Let them sleep in the spare room and we'll talk after," is the only thing Kenma says to you before turning around walking away.

The constricting feeling in your chest eases and you sigh in relief. You mentally high five yourself for your momentary win before twisting your gaze over your shoulder to look at the young boy towering over you, motioning him to follow you.

You never noticed how wide the apartment actually is. Maybe its because of the emptying feeling you were left with back in the hallway, but it all seems so eerily wide. Like, what are two people doing with such a big space?

He'll definitely break up with me after this.

There's still a lingering prickly feeling in your heart; a mixed emotion of a win and a loss. You try your best to prepare yourself for whatever the outcome may be, but deep inside you're already prepared for a break up.

The young boy trails behind you all the way into the bedroom, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you.

You switch the lights on, revealing a room big enough for more than just two kids. A desk on the side, a king size bed at the center, and a window with a good view of the city. It was usually the room Hinata crashed whenever he came back from traveling with his team, but he hadn't been here in months. Traces of him were left in the form of dust.

"Will this be good enough for now?" You ask Eiji as you shrug Yuki's backpack to the floor before making your way over to the bed.

His head is lowered, eyes still failing to meet yours. He's been like this since you pulled them from under the gossiping gaze of your family.

Family, you think. The word seems so meaningless now.

"When someone speaks to you, you ought to look at them," You say it with a genuine smile, hoping that the little warmth you have left in your heart radiates off you and onto him.

God knows he needs it more than you.

"Y-yes, you're right. Thank you." He stammers, "I'm-I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude—"

"Hey," You say, gently cutting him off as you hold your smile. He's still as soft and shy as the day you first met him. You can't help but smile at the thought that he never changed. "I'm not mad or anything...Its just a teaching moment. Remember it."

You watch as Eiji slowly shifts his gaze away from the floor, slowly raising his head to meet your eyes."There you go. You've got pretty eyes, you shouldn't hide them."

He hums a quiet thank you before turning around and shifting his attention to his backpack. You take care of the little one still hanging onto you, pressing a kiss onto his little forehead and rubbing his back before settling him down onto the bed.

You're careful not to stir him as you slip his shoes off. You tuck him in, brushing his hair away from his face to reveal his long lashes and puffy eyes.

Ah, there goes the heaviness in your chest again; a recurring feeling for the day. You wonder when it'll end and your heart sinks even deeper when you remember Kenma waiting for you.

Hesitantly, you excuse yourself and make your way to the door. You let Eiji know where the bathroom is and tell him not to be scared to ask you for anything, "Please don't scared," is the last thing you mutter before leaving the boys to rest.

You tiptoe across the living room, down the hall and towards your shared bedroom. The wooden floorboards creak beneath your feet whispering, "You've done it now", "You've crossed the line", and "He's definitely going to yell at you".

You clench the knob of your bedroom door. The thumping of your heart deafens your ears and your throat grows too dry for you to swallow your fear.

You shut your eyes and pray to the deities, hoping for a good outcome—hoping for any outcome than the one you're expecting.

It takes a moment—five minutes to be exact—but you muster a sliver of courage to push the door open. For some odd reason, you imagined Kenma would be sitting at the edge of the bed, silently brewing in his anger. But instead, he's on the floor, knees up to his chest as he fiddles with his Switch.

And you can't tell if you're annoyed or relieved.

You shut the door behind you before joining him on the floor. You keep your head down, picking off your nail polish while you wait.

Kenma pauses his game, setting it down to the side before completely leaning against the bed, lulling his head back to take a breath. You shut your eyes and you take a deep breath when you feel him shifting in his place to face you.

Here it is. He's going to yell at me, you think.

"What are you plotting?" He asks, not a single trace of irritation found in his voice but rather sheer curiosity dripping from his words. You keep your head down and eyes shut. "You ought to look at someone when they're speaking to you," Your name rolls off his tongue playfully, covered in nothing more than love and sincerity.

You peak an eye at him, lifting your head. "You're not gonna to yell at me?"

"When have I ever yelled at you?" His face contorts in judgement and a little concern, wondering if his girlfriend's broken or just completely stupid. "Why would I yell at you now?"

"I brought home two stray kids..."

"Yes, you did," He says matter-of-factly, "and we need to talk about that. So, can we please talk about that?"

You nod slowly, bringing your knees up to your chest before turning your whole body to face him.

Kenma sinks his elbow onto the end of the bed, cupping his chin for support before he speaks, “Who are those kids and why did you bring them home?"

Kenma looks at you directly, his face emotionless, but a bit softer compared to when you were first standing in the hallway. He blinks at you, waiting patiently till you're ready to speak.

"They were my cousin's kids," You say in a strained whisper. "The—The one that died in the accident." Kenma hums in response, signaling you to keep going. "We weren't close—as you know or else you would've heard a lot more about him—but we felt close enough...given what our family's like..."

Growing up with the kind of family you had and having met everyone from your extended family was kind of like living in a block of ice that never melted; solid in their beliefs, slippery with their anger, and had no room for any other emotion.

You made this very clear to Kenma when you first started dating, especially when he had asked to meet your family. He wasn't one to socialize or even initiate it, but he would do it if it meant doing it for you. But you turned the idea down fast, warned him that there'd be no reason to have to go through all that stress just for you; and though he was just as stubborn as you, Kenma gave in and never brought it up again when he saw how upset you had gotten.

But in chest full of ice cubes, there was your cousin, Akihiro-san. Like you, he was different. He wasn't cold, but he was so genuine and real, you couldn't help but doubt his kindness.

A kindness you failed return when he needed it most. So, when you saw your moment of opportunity, you snatched it, regrettably leaving your boyfriend as an afterthought to your decision.

"I owe it to him, Kenma..." You plead in whisper. "I owe to him because he was the only one who was ever nice to me..."

"These are kids," He counters, dipping his head to meet your glossy eyes. He takes your cheek into the palm of his hand, his thumb tracing circles over your skin. "This would be different if it were a puppy or a plant—but these are living and breathing kids and we know nothing about raising kids. My love, we're only in our twenties..."

"But—"

"You should've called first." He cuts you off, his tone still soft , but firm. You’re at least grateful he’s called you your pet name. "You should've called me and asked."

"You would've said no..."

"How do you know? You never called me." There isn't resentment in Kenma's words. Its still playful and light, but you can feel his hurt and you feel dumb because you know exactly why. "I would've liked to have been included in this decision...especially since this is my home and you are my girlfriend, and you promised that we would make decisions together."

You frown, tears brimming to the surface as you realized what you've done and how you've probably made him feel.You denied him of his choice, and you were silly to believe that it was okay to go over his head and behind his back.

As you whisper a string of apologies, Kenma presses his forehead onto yours, smiling at you. He was angry at first, but not so much anymore.

"Are you going to break up with me?" You sniffle, voice breaking at the thought. "I'd understand if you wanted to break up with me...But I just—I really wanted to help them. I'm so sorry I didn't ask you first, I couldn't just leave them—"

"Shhh," His breath fans against your skin, "I'm not breaking up with you, stupid. Given, this is probably the biggest wild card you've thrown at me by far, but its not enough for me to break up with you."

You hide your face into dip of his neck, sobbing into the material of his sweater, letting go of the strength you had from holding back and stain it with your tears. You had always been reckless, but it never turned him off. He never raised his voice, he always heard you out, and even when you slipped up, he always forgave you in a heartbeat.

It makes you question if you’re deserving of such a love as this.

“I was very angry and very offended,” Kenma begins, “I didn’t like what you did. It made me feel like you couldn’t trust me, and it made me feel like you saw me as some kind of terrible person that would turn away kids that need a home...”

You shake your heard, muttering a “no” to his assumption.

Kenma runs his fingers through your hair and down to your back, soothing you until you've caught your breaths. He'll soft press his lips against the crown of your head, discreetly swiping the little sweat off his lips to keep you from being offended.

"S-So, what do we do about the kids?" Your question muffled but Kenma can hear you just fine.

He sighs, and as he's about to pull you away from his chest, you tighten your hold around his waist. "Please look at me," Your shoulders fall and you pout when you come face to face with him. He chuckles at how ridiculously childish you look, "Do you really want to do this?"

Your eyes widen, "Y-yes. I want to do this, but if you don't want—"

"Better us than anyone else, right?" You blink at him, processing. "I don't know shit about kids, but if you really want to do this, I'll support you. But you can't expect me to be good at this."

Kenma falls onto your shoulder and rests all his weight onto you, letting out a sigh. Panic envelopes his heart, his stomach flipping and churning as he stresses over all the things that's yet to come.

“We’ve been dating for four years, and I’ve just only gotten the hang of you now...” He admits in a heavy sigh.

I'm still a kid, he thinks, groaning. He's plays games all day, forgets to shower, and doesn't know how to cook either. He works from home, rarely goes out unless he needs to or if you want to. Out of the both of you, you're--surprisingly-- more put together than he is.

Can he really do this?

"Please don't expect much from me," He begs, "I don't do well with kids, and you even took in a grown one. What if it doesn't like me or if it forget to feed it?"

You chew on your lip, holding back a laugh and quietly smile to yourself. Vulnerability paints well on your boyfriend, and you wish for even more moments like this.

“I promise it’ll only be until we kind find some other arrangement for them...Something better." You’re not entirely confident in your words, but you understand the idea of having them stay with you isn’t the most sound solution.

"I suppose if we mess up, we'll mess it up together." He says in defeat, sprawling his legs open before wrapping it around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. He cradles your body tightly just as Yuki had done. "You don't understand how unbelievably lucky you are that I love you."

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the-bejeesus · 3 years

Text

To Those Who Say “I’m not gonna catch up on One Piece until it’s finished. Why would I watch/read 1000+ episodes/chapters when I don’t even get to know how the story ends?”

Now for the past few years, when I came across somebody who said this, my rebute would be something like “Well the series is great already. It doesn’t really matter if I don’t know how it ends, because the journey itself is enjoyable.” or “Man if that’s your excuse, who you gonna explain why you read/watch stuff like Berserk, Hunter X Hunter, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Hero Academia? Newsflash, they aren’t done yet.” But it came across my mind that I can now apply a completely different approach:

“If you start watching/reading at this pace right now, it will be over by the time you catch up.”

If you’re a fan of the series, you’ll know that for awhile now Oda has been saying that he plans to end the series in just 5-4 years. Now he’s made lots of claims in the past that turned out to be ridiculous. However, many One Piece researchers have compiled his claims and found out that they only get more accurate as time goes on, with the most ridiculous claims being found to be myths. And with the most recent claims of ending the series in less than 5 years, even his editors who are usually skeptical have started to trust that he can do this. After all, he has officially set there to be only one more saga (which isn’t necessarily one arc, but it’s either going to be 1-2 major arcs or an anthology of 5-6 shorter arcs). And now that we can trust this claim, we can essentially extrapolate how many chapters/episodes are left and what pace we have to binge to catch up at just the right time.

If you plan to read the manga (black and white):

The manga in black in white is a perfectly fine way to enjoy One Piece. It’s what Oda draws, it’s how he intends it to be viewed, and best of all, it will be the first version of publication to finish.

Out of the 1223 weeks since the first chapter published in July 19, 1997, 1000 chapters have published, meaning on average he publishes 42 chapters per year, or in other words, there are only 10 hiatuses per year (including holidays where WSJ does not publish). Now if I wanted to be more accurate, I’d only look at the chapters published this year, to exclude outliers like how he had no hiatuses for the first 200 chapters, or how he had a 4-week hiatus during the timeskip, but 2020 has been a bit crazy, so we’re not doing that for this or any of the others.

Going off of this, the final chapter would be chapter 1212 in December 28, 2025 (yes, the 28th would be a Sunday again.) So here’s how you’d calculate the pace in which you need to read One Piece, and really this is how we’ll calculate it for every version)

Now I know math is boring, but the reason I’m showing this to you is because the amount of weeks until One Piece ends will vary based on when you start this binge. Chances are you aren’t going to start the day you see this post, and there’s an even greater chance you won’t see this post the day it’s posted. For every example I’m going to assume you started binging on December 28, 2020. Now let’s try to use it for this example.

And there’s your answer, just read 4-5 chapters per week. By the end, One Piece should be nearly over or have very recently ended. To put that into a different perspective, you could purchase and read just two volumes per month and you’ll be at prime pace. Or you could read one chapter every day, but only on weekdays. If you want to, you can see this calculation in action in graph form.

While this is a very rudimentary graph, it’s a basic visualization of what we’re calculating here. We’re calculating what speed we need to binge to catch up at exactly the right moment. I say exact, but ultimately no one can predict how many chapters there will be exactly, nor how many hiatuses Oda will go on during it. It will be important, as you’re nearing the end, to find a spoiler-free way to keep up on how close One Piece is to ending. To know whether you ought to speed up or slow down.

If you plan to watch the anime (subtitled):

For years now people have hated on the anime “terrible animation!” “terrible pacing” but at the end of the day, it’s the more popular version. Or the more viewed version I should say. And personally, I think that once you acknowledge its problems and learn how to deal with them, it’s a perfectly fine experience. There’s enough good voice acting and enough good storytelling that you’re easily able to ignore the problems. Plus, the animation has substantially improved since Wano.

Now for this we’re going to have to change a lot of variables to get this right. We’re going to have to adjust when publication started, and recalculate when One Piece will end by looking at how slowly the anime adapts the manga, and how behind it is. The anime aired on October 20, 1999, and has aired 956 episodes since then. This means on average they air 44.9 episodes per year, meaning there is pretty much only 7 breaks the entire year. With these 956 episodes, they have adapted 955 chapters, making the pace almost exactly one chapter per episode. However this is really inaccurate, considering all the better-paced arcs earlier on in the story. Looking solely at episodes 2012 and onwards, the anime adapts at a pace of 0.65 chapters/episode.

Knowing that there are roughly 212 chapters left, and Toei adapts at 0.65 chapters per episode, we can assume that there are going to be roughly 324 episodes left. That sounds like too many, but keep in mind that there will be several, several instances where the manga will be on hiatus whereas the anime will keep on airing. Knowing there are approximately 324 episodes left, and that the anime only takes about 7 breaks a year, we can assume that it will take 7 years, or 374.49 weeks before the anime will end. So now we have the information we need to do the math again.

x = 1280/374.49

x = 3.417 episodes/week.

It may seem like a more relaxed binge, since you get a whole 2 extra years to binge, and you only have to do 3-4 episodes per week, compared to the 4-5 chapters. But keep in mind that these episodes are 24 minutes each. Still not at all bad, but you will be spending more time on it overall.

If you plan to watch One Pace:

One Pace is a fan project that edits the anime so that filler and padding is cut, other edits will be made to make the anime more manga-accurate, such as reorganizing scenes, or adding title cards where absent. Originally only used by a niche number of One Piece fans, One Pace has grown in popularity, and has tried to improve its quality to accommodate more fans, such as making their episodes Dual Audio (meaning you can switch between the dub and original Japanese audio tracks), and including Spanish subtitles.

You’d think we’d have to adjust for when One Pace began, how slowly One Pace catches up, and the works, but there’s not much to calculate. Fortunately for us, no matter how far behind One Pace is on editing the current arc, they always like to wrap things up just a few weeks within when an arc ended, if not the very same week. So really all we have to calculate is how many One Pace episodes there will be by the end of all this, so that we know how many you’ll need to watch per week.

Looking solely at what they’ve covered so far, One Pace has taken 573 episodes and condensed it down to 259 episodes. That’s a pace of 2.21 anime episodes/ paced episode. Earlier we calculated that there would be 324 episodes of the anime left, making for 1280 episodes total. This would mean that there would be around 578 One Pace episodes by the end. And One Pace would probably wrap up in, let’s say 376 weeks, because as I said, they’ll probably finish editing the final arc a week or two after the last episode airs.

x = 578/376

x = 1.53 episodes per week

Now that’s a relaxed pace. 1-2 episodes per week? That’s so slow, I’m not even sure if I’ll remember what I watched last week next time I watch some episodes. The only problem is some of the pre-timeskip still haven’t been edited. They’ll probably be done by the time they finish the final arc, but that’s not gonna work out fast enough. You’ll hit your first roadblock about 7 weeks in when you need to watch the Baratie arc and it’s not done. And don’t even get me started on how many arcs aren’t done in dub or Spanish sub yet. Hopefully you could just switch to the anime or manga when you hit these arcs, readjusting how many episodes/chapters you need to watch/read when you do. But that’s a bit of an excessive amount of math for something that’s supposed to be fun. So yeah, if you’re still convinced you shouldn’t get into One Piece until it’s ended, maybe this is the option for you.

If you plan to read the manga (Colored):

Since 2012, Shueisha has made a colorization of One Piece. It’s not a fan coloring, it’s as official as it gets. Many consider the color schemes portrayed in this version as the most canon, as the majority are pulled straight from whatever colored illustrations of Oda’s they can find. And quite frankly it makes the manga at least 10 times more beautiful. It’s especially great if you have trouble interpreting dense, small black and white panels.

This one is a doozy. You’d think all I gotta do is calculate how far behind the colored manga usually and just adjust from there, right? Wrong. Because how far behind the colored manga is, or how frequently they release volumes in full color, is one of the most inconsistent things I have ever seen. You wanna see what I’m talking about? This is how they’ve chosen to release each volume since 2012:

Volume 1-12: July 15, 2012

Volume 13-23: September 28, 2012

Volume 24-63: December 4, 2012

Volume 64-65: April 4, 2013

Volume 66-68: December 20, 2013

Volume 69-70: August 25, 2014

Volume 71-72: September 16, 2015

Volume 73-75: October 4, 2016

Volume 76: December 2, 2016

Volume 77: March 3, 2017

Volume 78: July 2, 2017

Volume 79: September 4, 2017

Volume 80: December 4, 2017

Volume 81-82: March 3, 2018

Volume 83: October 4, 2018

Volume 84-86: August 2, 2019

Volume 87-92: September 16, 2020

How I am supposed to find out how long it will take for Shueisha to colorize the final volume of One Piece is beyond me. I guess the first step would be to look at how far behind the manga each release was on average, but I’m going to ignore all the ones before 2013, because those were clearly just Shueisha catching up really fast cause they just started and didn’t want to be dozens of volumes behind forever. So of the 14 publications between 2013 and now, on average the last chapter of the last volume they colored was 97.78 weeks after that chapter had published in Weekly Shonen Jump. This means that if the final chapter of One Piece is chapter 1212 on December 28, 2025, then you can expect the final colored volume to publish November 14, 2027.

x = 1212/359

x = 3.37 chapters/week

So if you prefer the manga but don’t want to read 5 chapters every week for 5 years, this might be a better option for ya. But yea, I have no doubt my prediction is at least a little off for this one.

If you plan to watch the anime (dubbed):

Unlike the 4KidsTV and Odex dubs of One Piece, the FUNimation dub is a perfect way to enjoy One Piece. The DVDs come with enjoyable commentary and a marathon mode, great for binging.

FUNimation’s releases of the dub are inconsistent, although not nearly as erratic as the colored manga release. However, there was recently a 2-year hiatus we only just got out of. Since Episode 1′s dub in May 27, 2008, the dub has gotten as far as Episode 614. But that’s only looking at the DVD releases. If you’re willing to stream on FUNimationnow, the dub is as far as 641, and if you’re willing to digitally purchase it from an e-shop such as the Microsoft store, it goes all the way to Episode 654. With that being said, that would mean that on average, FUNimation dubs 1.004 episodes per week. Although if we go back to before the two-year hiatus so as to exclude it from the average, it’s actually 1.10 episodes per week. Not a huge difference, actually. And then if we look solely after the two-year hiatus, it’s actually 2.25 episodes per week, which is insanely faster. It’s hard to tell what the future of the dub will be. I can’t assume they’ll go this fast forever, so I’m just going to take the average of all 3 and say it’s 1.45 episodes per week. Don’t know if that’s the best mathematical approach, but the number seems about right.

So knowing that the dub is at Episode 654 and looking at our previous guesstimation that the anime will be 1280 episodes long, we can predict that it will take 431 weeks before the dub catches up and ends. That would be in 2029! Sounds quick at first until you notice it’s 4 years behind!

x = 1280/431

x = 2.96 episodes per week

Looks like it’s almost exactly 3 episodes per week. Not as much less of a workload as I expected, compared to catching up to the sub. You know, I figured those 4 extra years would make you binge a lot slower.

Final Thoughts:

There’s a lot of my math that was estimation, approximations, extrapolations. Feel free to correct me or fact check me, especially if you plan on using this. I figured this would be a fun thought excercise. There’s also a lot of smaller variables I simply didn’t want to take into account because of how long this is already. For example, reading the black and white manga. The calculation can vary slightly depending on if you read it the day it’s published (which I assume would have to be a fanscan unless you can read Japanese), reading the weekly publication legally on Viz.com, waiting for the physical volume release. The dub can also vary depending on whether you buy from Microsoft, wait for the FUNimationnow release, wait for the DVDs, or wait for the Collection sets. So feel free to take this into account.

#One Piece #OP #ワンピース #Wan Pīsu #anime #manga #FUNimation #dub #One Pace

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years

Text

ONE TIME BOY [SPACE] FRIEND

👠Pairing: Jimin x fem! reader 👠Genre: makeover au, best friends to lovers au, gender bender au, beauty contest au 👠Warnings: light smut, semi-public oral (f and m receiving), mirror kink, cameo crazy girl hungry to be miss universe lol 👠Summary: Rejected by your long-time crush using the excuse of not being girly enough your best friend offers you his shoulder to cry on, his eyes land on the daily newspaper advertising the local beauty contest and he gets an excellent idea.

👠Words: 10k

👠Masterlist

”Man, I’m impressed you got an A in Mrs Hoster’s class. It’s notorious that she’s a real bitch with gradings.” I hear the rustling of papers and an oddly familiar laugh overpowering the previous noise the corridor is empty despite those two and me apparently. I stop in my tracks not intently but hiding behind the corner, they have no idea I’m here it’s a blind spot but hearing his voice getting stronger they need to be walking this way.

Mrs Hoster? I’m in her class too. I peek around the corner to see to whom this voice belongs to it’s badly familiar.

”Y/N helped me write the essay so it was an easy job.”

I turned around just in time to avoid getting caught. I closed my eyes for a split second the cold white wall helped me to steady the beating of my heart. It’s Han and his friend I recall his name is something Wu? I’m not sure I don’t interact with Han’s friends he’s the one who always hangs around my friends.

”Did you slept together?” Wu asks and my face turns red immediately. How vulgar not that I’m surprised just caught off guard. Han laughs again.

”No, I’m not interested in girls like her. She’s like a boy.” Looking down on my clothes the baggy shirt and ripped jeans my hair is long at least. I know I’m not the most stylish girl on campus but calling me a boy was a bit harsh considering I wrote everything in that essay of his the only thing he did is writing down the title but I’m not going around school telling my best friend he’s stupid.

”I know, I can’t believe she’s roommates with Jimin maybe he thinks she’s another dude or something too.” The audacity.

”Don’t mention him he keeps his guards on whenever he sees me with her it’s annoying. I’m lucky she’s wiped because knowing that guy his humanitarian soul already told her she’s used and I need my grades. The only thing she’s usable for is homework.” The annoyance is evident in his voice I don’t need to look to imagine how he pinches his nose between two of his fingers while talking.

My teeth clashed together with anger. Calling me a boy is one thing but pulling the honey string before my nose is something only a jerk would do. Yes, he’s handsome I admit that and I hoped for something to go forward between us and how foolish I was to think that. He wanted to think we stand a chance it was his plan all along and he used me. Jimin warned me. He told me this will happen.

"Are you seriously going to stop being Han's little puppy?" The question stirs me awake I feel like someone under a spell after what I witnessed I became awfully quiet around my friend and she noticed the change in my behaviour immediately. We arranged this meet up before I overheard the conversation with Han in fact I was on my way to her when it’s happened my mood was pretty good. I can’t tell the same half an hour later.

I stop mid-bite and aim my sauce-covered index finger to poke her nose but she dodged it before I could ruin her makeup. I abandon the plan and instead I use a napkin to clean my hands I look down on my plate which is still full of comfort food I thought that if I drown myself in junk food it would lift my mood but I couldn't be any more wrong about this.

Rori almost doesn't catch the sound of my tired sigh because of the Mcdonalds’ heavily crowded space by the time lunchtime rolled around the corner it's a miracle that we were able to find a tiny table with two seats inside.

"I wasn't his puppy." I spit the words out gnashing my teeth. Not very ladylike but bloody hell that I would care since I’m a boy I may act like one. "Also it was just a silly crush not that it will ever be more. It's time to move on. I'm too old to have this stupid high school like interest." Yes, I’m a grown-ass woman studying at a University.

"Uh-huh." Rori rolls her eyes suspicious about my sudden change of heart if I'm going to, be honest, there is nothing more that could go wrong on this day I tripped in front of at least 10 people when I was going to the toilet just before I was going to tell my friend how I was humiliated by my crush of 2 years. A very good day if you ask me.

"Jimin knows about this?" I look her dead in the eye conveying the message without words knowing where this conversation going I abandon my food entirely I nibble on my straw drinking my medium-sized coke occasionally. "So he doesn't." She states it sarcastically with her light green gel polished nails annoyingly drumming on the surface of the table.

"It's none of his business anyway." I drink the last drops of the coke before tossing the empty cup on the tray nearly knocking the fries out of their container.

"Why the sour face Y/N. He would be upset if he heard that. Aren't you guys are like besties and stuff?"

Now is not the time to be jealous.

"He's not a cry baby Rori. And we are best friends without the 'besties and stuff'. I thought you liked him." She nods in confirmation stealing one of my fries chewing them in a manner that makes people disgusted.

”We are besties and stuff.” I tell her with a grin and she finally smiles too. We’re like two peas in a pot the memory is still vivid when I first bumped into her quite literally. I was panicking since I didn’t know the route to my first class and on top of that I overslept on my first day she was no better.

”But back to the topic, girl, I’m on your side Han is a five-star shit head. I’m glad you finally realised that.” She’s right like always.

”The resident fuckface, huh?” I sent her a lopsided smile and she raised her hand to give me a thumbs up. Her favourite game is to give people alternative names. Han’s called the resident bad boy around here, she has an alternative option that I begin to like more and more.

”That’s the spirit. Want a ride? It’s going to rain soon.” Rori uses the napkins to clean our mess on the table. There’s no need for sherlock to see why we are still single. We eat like a pig starved for days. Looking out the window her words seem to be accurate the clouds covered the sun and the temperature decreased.

”Nah. I’m just going to be like the protagonist in your favourite rom-com and walk home in the pouring rain sadness devouring my soul while I drench like a homeless.”

Rori rolled her eyes at my dramatic response. ”That was awfully specific.” I shrug, getting up to dispose of the leftovers into a nearby bin.

With my eyes glued to the screen I pop another sickeningly sweet caramel popcorn into my mouth I surrounded myself with fuzzy blankets enjoying the late afternoon with binge-watching my all-time favourite series. Warming my cold feet under the comforter I remind myself not to forget to turn down the heater around the time Jimin comes home.

My hair is wetly clinging to my back soaking the headrest of the sofa I take a glance outside it’s still raining hard. As soon as I got home I changed my clothes but let my hair dry itself without making any effort it doesn't matter if I get sick or not. This way maybe I can avoid Han for a few days at least. Walking in the rain like a kicked puppy was not something I anticipated while waking up this morning but I guess I have to work with what I have.

After I was beyond the sadness the anger came, remembering all the times when he asked me to help with his essays or research projects and like a fool, I went out of my way to do that. It's for the better honestly if I observe the situation from a different perspective he was just using me and it's time for me to get over this silly crush of mine. I don’t even know what was I thinking.

Knowing what’s best is one thing but I'm still hurting I was pinning after him for over two years we share the same classes and we run in the same circles of friends. How can I possibly avoid him when I have to see him every day and skipping classes is not an option? It’s ridiculous and I’m not five anymore to solve my problems cowardly.

The only thing went right this day that Jimin is caught up with his classes so he won't be coming home until late. He sent me a text earlier that his professor wanted to keep that lesson which was cancelled last week so he won't be home as usual.

I didn't want him to see me like this so I embraced all of my pent up frustration and let everything out so I can act as if nothing happened when it’s time to face him. I can imagine how pissed off Jimin would be if he knew I didn't take a shower after arriving home in my soaked clothes and instead I rummaged through our apartment to seize up every gift and memory regarding him to throw it out. The passerby’s probably thought I’m some kind of a crazy chick throwing out my boyfriend's stuff from the 8th floor into the rain as a form of revenge and maybe they’re not so wrong considering that I just yelled through the window and told everyone to fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend but it felt good enough not to care.

I don't want to tell Jimin what I overheard since he always told me Han is a jerk and I shouldn't have wasted my time on useless scumbags like him. The plot twist is that he was right but I don't need to hear that I stopped denying that I knew that deep down but too stubborn to admit it.

I wanted my high school crush to notice me and have my silly happy ending. But in fact, this is not a Disney movie and I’m not a princess with a destinated prince charming. Knowing Jimin’s kind heart he would never rub salt into my open wound he would rather sit with me and watch sappy romcoms saying those sweet nothings like I'll find someone who deserves all of my attention and stuff like that. He would never say ‘I told you so’ in a mocking tone spicing it up with an eye roll like Rori did not long ago.

"Gilmore girls? Uh-huh, I smell something fishy here missy." Surprised to hear my roommate I glance away from the tv giving his form an attentive look. Jimin shakes the droplets out of his hair placing his umbrella next to the pile of shoes by the door after he got rid of his boots the keys metal clinking heard as he dropped them into the bowl on the counter. He stops in his tracks taking in with his eyes my torn up appearance.

"Why is your hair wet? You didn’t walk home in the rain, did you?" He hastily takes off his jacket and throws it on the couch sitting down next to me.

I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn't hear when the front door opened. I shrugged, indicating that it's no biggie I glance away from him and stare at the tv watching as the romantic scene unfolds on the screen. Fucking perfect even my favourite show is making fun of me.

"Did you forgot to bring your umbrella again? I told you this morning that it'll rain sweetheart." Distracted by the sweet words of worry I let his comforting heat envelop me as our sides pressed up together on the couch. To an outsider, it would seem like he lectures me on my goldfish memory but I see it in his eyes how worried he looks the soft glint in them always tells me how much he cares about me. Jimin envelopes me in a hug stroking my arm up and down in vertical movements attempting to warm me up.

"I'm fine." I tell him I bury my nose into the juncture of his neck the cold touch awakes goosebumps along his skin he shivers but pulls me closer to his warm body. It’s nice being here with him I would go that far saying that I could almost forget why I was in a bad mood before.

"You're freezing cold Y/N." So warm I could sleep like this even though I turned up the heater the cold seeped into my skin I was struggling to keep myself warm maybe it was a mistake that I didn't head for the showers after arriving home. But throwing his stuff out felt so good knowing myself I would do that again, call me impulsive.

"Sorry." I murmur it into his skin he chuckles as he circles my waist with his arms to push our chests flat against each other his warm palms stroking my back the warmth trickles through the thin t-shirt I'm wearing. So this is how it feels like to have your personal heater suddenly I’m jealous of his previous girlfriends.

Not that I was ever not. Jimin is like a living equivalent of a beautiful enigma. Handsome like he was sculpted by the gods itself paired up with a very sweet and honest heart he is a jackpot well hit. And then there’s me not particularly pretty or nice and he still calls me his little angel or nowadays he seems to call me in all sort of sweet names, princess, shortcake, baby name it all he said it.

"Will you tell me why are you upset, baby?" Here we are with the nicknames again I wonder if he noticed it or he does it subconsciously. Of course, he knows something is up with me he reads me so well that it's kinda scary sometimes. Am I an open book to him or is he this generous and caring?

I always envied his caring personality in campus everyone likes Jimin he acts like an angel he listens well and gives good advice he encouraged me when I was planning to leave my studies and drop out on my second year. We are roommates since my first year here he is a year above me and through friend’s advice, we moved in together.

At first, I was resisting intimidated by the thought that he is a senior and I was just a newbie but he never stopped trying even though that I didn't show any reaction at first he kept talking to me and showering me with tiny gifts like cute notebooks and one bite foods he did most of the housework too since he claimed that being new to all of this I should focus on my studies until I got the hang of everything telling me that he was very stressed in his first year so he understands my struggles. I often think about if he is true or not that he is not just existing in my delusional head because he’s an amazing friend and an even more amazing roommate. It feels unreal that I have him.

"It's stupid." I hide my face I try to enjoy the rhythmic sound of his chest heaving lulling me to sleep. I don’t want to burden him with my rant.

"Nothing is stupid for me in the regards of you." The soft words make me keen he aligns our faces so he can meet my eye I scowl at the lost contact and he smiles seeing it. I'm sure he is aware of the reactions he extorts out of me.

"Do you want a punch?" I poke his forehead using my index finger trying to get rid of that charming smile but it just grows wider. My plan always backfires.

"Always so violent." He grabs my finger scraping it lightly with his teeth playfully seeing the horrified look on my face he smirks after attaching my soul back to my body I pull my finger out of his mouth yelling and smearing the excess saliva onto his shirt in disgust.

"Ugh! What is wrong with you?" I yell moving to the far side of the sofa looking at my finger in disbelief. He stands up clearly entertained by my reaction but he turns back before entering my room.

"Where's your blowdryer? You'll get sick if you leave your hair like this." Folding my legs under me I lock eyes with his waiting ones.

"In my drawer." I tell him and he gives me a confirming nod in return.

He comes back after a couple of minutes he has my drier in his left hand motioning for me to face away from him on the sofa so he could get access to my hair. I get comfortable as he plugs in the electric part while delicate fingers comb through my locks untangling the knots before turning the device on.

"I wish you would take better care of yourself Y/N. What would you do if I weren't here?" I lean into his gentle touch loving the way he rubs my scalp it feels like a massage not like how I usually blow dry my hair.

Now that I know what it's like I want him to dry my hair every day. But that's how Jimin works he always makes sure I'm alright he puts extra care into his motions silently helping me unwind. He’s like this with everyone and I’m aware of that but manages to make me feel special every time I guess it’s a special skill he has.

I scoot a little closer to Jimin’s body while walking which didn't go unnoticed by either on Han’s or Jimin’s side but it’s not enough to halter Han's wide smile as he greets me. As usual, he ignores Jimin and the feeling is mutual nothing out of the ordinary. I greet him back but lacking the enthusiasm which used to lace my tone. Now it’s something out of the ordinary.

"Hey Y/N, so when are we going to do that project I talked to you about? I'm free after classes today how about we meet up at our usual spot in the campus cafe?" Jimin was going to excuse himself from the situation as he did every time before but this time I hold him in place by his long sleeves I gritted my teeth holding back my witty comeback alongside the punch I want oh so badly to deliver, but what would I get out of it? He'll just jump to the next girl with better grades to help his ungrateful ass and I'm sure he won't give a flying damn about me or my feelings.

"Actually I have plans later with Jimin." I tell him holding onto Jimin's shirt for emphasis. He's lost for words for a second I never told him no before but he composed himself quickly offering a smile but this time a little tight-lipped.

"Oh, I see. Then how about tomorrow?" I let out an annoyed huff. Just who does he think he is?

"Listen to me very well resident fuckface because I'm going to tell you this once." The threat apparent in my voice he automatically steps back not used to the tone I deliver while I step forward. In the corner of my eye, I catch Jimin’s silhouette keeping his laughter inside because of the name Rori got him. It felt good to finally say it to his face.

"I heard you. Was it funny to use me? You're saying that I'm ugly and ungirly for you to date but happily let me do your homework since it's the only thing I'm useful for. Yes, I had a crush on you and yes I knew you were using me but it was a bit too much even for me to hear you laugh with your friend saying that you are not interested in fucking a boy." By the time I was done talking Jimin's protective hand found mine but I was too furious to appreciate the gesture to its full potential.

"What? I .. I didn't mean .. that Y/N I was just fooling around. Don't be a baby about it." Hearing the response angered Jimin he stepped protectively in front of me and grabbed him by the collar. I was afraid that he's going to hit him but I wasn't worried about Han. I was worried about Jimin he's too nice to hit someone.

"It's ok Jimin. Let's just go." I place my palm on his shoulder I felt calmer since I let out all my pent up anger he looks back seeing my worried expression he lets Han's shirt go.

He must mistake my worry since he strides to the building where his morning classes are held with a sour face. I go after his retreating form ignoring the yells from Han he is not important at the moment.

We planned an early morning coffee together what a shame we had to collide with Han on the way now we don't have time to grab it but I don't want Jimin to think I was protecting Han because that's not the truth. Jimin was always more important than him and he should know that. What would be even nicer than that to not voice it out and still being understood. Where is his mind-reading power when I need it?

"Jimin!" I yell his name I caught his arm as he was about to enter the building I dragged him to the side not wanting to make a scene out of the situation or block the entry.

"Can you listen to me for a second." I plead in a calm voice he looks at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He's not angry nor happy he looks completely neutral which is scarier to see than him acting all angry.

"I didn't want to meddle with your business Y/N because it's not something I have the right to do but I can't watch it anymore that you let this pathetic crush of yours destroy you. He was toying with you the whole time and you didn't care. Are you stupid or something? And even now you are worried about him. He deserved a punch but I guess since it's ok with you.."

"Stop." I warn him. He acknowledges the hurt in my eyes but it's too late. He regrets how rude he was I can see it in the way he shamefully hangs his head low.

"I wasn't worried about him! I was worried about you! Even though he deserved that punch I didn't want you to be the bad guy at the end." I tell him the reason. Knowing Han’s spineless nature he would have spread rumours about Jimin being aggressive or even worse.

"Baby." He starts but I shake my head not letting him comfort me with his touch. He's going to be late anyway. He needs to go to class his teacher is strict on punctuality.

"Don't baby me. Is that what you really think of me? A fool?" Onlookers started to form in the vicinity the only thing missing was the popcorn in their hands. Why everyone here lives for the drama?

I know I wasn't always reasonable but Jimin should know best that it was a crush and I never had a real relationship to compare it to and I was, yes, foolishly preserving the false hope that someday maybe we could be something.

But it happens to all of us, no? I just wanted what everyone else has someone to call and introduce as my boyfriend.

I'm lonely. But hearing it from him from all the people I know Jimin was the one I was comfortable with talking about this since I knew he wouldn't make fun of me.

"I'm just concerned about you. Please Y/N don't look at me like that." He wrapped his fingers around my palm stroking the flesh with his thumb hoping to get back to my right side. He has a habit of being touchy in reprehensible situations.

"Let's talk about this later. You'll be late for class." I take a glance at my wristwatch taking it as an opportunity to shake his touch off.

"I don't want you to leave angry." He catches my wrist before I could walk away. We rarely fight so Hoseok is stunned into silence when he sees us in this position.

"Hi Hobi." I greet him before taking my leave this time Jimin doesn't stop me.

"I appreciate the attempts Jimin but you know it's not edible right?" I look up with hopeful eyes that I don't need to take a pity bite. He's very sweet but he definitely doesn't get the skills in terms of cooking and I would like to live a happy and long life.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't know how else to ask for your forgiveness. We never fight and I didn't know what to do."

I take this chance to really look at him. He has my apron tied around his waist with bold letters the words 'kiss the cook' labelling the front I remember I got this for my birthday last year from him he's kinda cute in it I admit that. He fidgets in his spot in front of me taking my silence as a bad sign but I'm not someone who holds grudges for long and Jimin is one of the few people I can't even do that with even if I tried. He's just too nice.

"I know you were just looking out for me. I know you didn't mean it because I know you." I tell him offering a smile along the way so he won't overthink it and in hopes of we can get rid of this plate of trash he dares to call food.

"You're very important to me you know right?" He murmurs the words into my hair he hugs me tight and I hug him back stroking his back reassuringly. The angle is not the most comfortable one considering that I’m still in a sitting position so I had to twist my torso to hug him back and he’s taller too.

"Of course I know Jiminie." I beam.

"You never call me Jiminie unless you want me to feel better. You should be angry with me and flipping the dining table on my face." The way he pouted while talking made the situation funnier.

I laugh at the image.

"I know I'm a bit violent sometimes, but you don't think I would really shove the dining table into your face right?" I gently push him back to see his eyes I'm actually concerned if he knows that or not.

"I know." He nods giggling at how concerned my face looks.

"Good. Now that we talked about this, clean this mess up so I can cook something that can be consumed." I shoo him to start cleaning.

”Have you ever entertained the idea of reaching out for the military to get this listed on the biohazard weaponry?” I playfully ask and he gives me a glare. It was worth it.

He pecks my cheek before he begins loading the burnt food inside the bin. "What would I do without you?"

I hope it’s not an actual heart I see in his eyes because maybe I have to consider flipping that dining table.

"You would be still relying on the emergency food your mother sends you." I reply with the same playfulness he momentarily stopped every movement to look back at me, surprised that I know about his little secret.

"Who told you that? It was Hoseok, wasn't it?" He manages to look at me with narrowed eyes.

"It's fine. You do a lot of stuff for me so cooking for you is really nothing. And I love how you eat like a pig it means you really love it." The narrowness dissolves into a big grin and dilated pupils.

"The girls I dated didn't phrase it like that." He chuckles.

"What did they didn't like about that? You are so adorable when your cheeks are full of food. I mean I was going crazy about your munching noises but I'm used to it now." I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly I remember how at first I wasn't able to sit at the same table as him I always disliked the sound of munching but now I don't even notice it sometimes.

"I know what Han said hurt you Y/N. But you know it's not true right?" He asks in a more serious tone the previous light atmosphere went gloomy so fast.

"Which one? That no one would want to fuck a tomboy like me? Or that I'm only good for making others homework?" I say it jokingly but he was buying none of my bullshit. He knows I'm still pretty upset about it.

"Neither of those." I'm flattered how severely he stated it at least one of us are confident in me.

"How would you know that? I didn't do either of those for you." I roll my eyes anyway I'm not that easy to convince. Self-love and rainbows and shit are not something I'm currently feeling. Saying nice things is what flows through Jimin’s veins more than blood. He is that nice.

"You are beautiful Y/N and I have an idea of how we are going to get back at Han." The lunatic laugh he does scares me but I curiously ask what he meant by that.

"What's that?" I ask straining my neck to see the advertisement. I shouldn't have done that. The article on the front page alarms me with bold letters. Under the words a girl with very white teeth on display putting the toothpaste commercials to shame. The catchy slogan seeping out of her mouth ’try out your beauty here and don’t forget the most important thing is not winning but also to gain experience’ What a full of crap saying. Only the ones who don’t win say shit like that.

My skin pales as soon as I see the way Jimin eyes me.

"The hell to the fuck no. A beauty contest? Are you insane? I'm not going to do that." Only for my words to fell on deaf ears.

"Is this really necessary Jimin?" My voice is full of uncertainty. I don’t remember the last time I went to see a hairdresser maybe when I was back in my hometown. And if I remember correctly it was for my high school graduation. Time flies fast.

"Yes, it is babe. You're going to look the best I'm sure you'll rank first place and make your ex-crush poop his pants." I roll my eyes but I can't help the laughing noises escaping my sealed lips. The assistant shows me the seat that I take with a shy following ’thank you’. I’m suddenly feeling nervous about this.

"At this point, I would rather do this because of you. I want to make you proud of me." I avoid his eyes I feel bashful enough that I dared to say it out loud for him to hear.

"But sweetheart I'm already proud of you." His palms rested on the back of my chair we were still waiting for the hairdresser to start her magic on me. We lock eyes through the mirror in front of me due to the eye contact Jimin’s eyes turn darker with a feeling I can’t truly decipher I haven’t seen him acting like this. I open my mouth to question his stare when the assistant’s high voice interrupts me.

"How long have you been guys dating? You're such a lovely couple." I catch Jimin’s widening smile he’s watching me not rushing to correct the girl like I do.

"Oh. We are not dating! Just friends." I tell the truth blushing.

"My pardon, I thought..."

"Anyone would be lucky to have such a cute girlfriend." Jimin cuts the girl’s apology making me focus on him again. Why is he like that? It’s not normally how he is. No, he’s just being nice again, right, that’s the reason.

"I don't know about that." I shyly comment. Don’t know what else to say.

Only then I can finally breathe when the lady arrives Jimin takes his place further away sitting down on one of the chairs in a row before the wall at the other side, scrolling through his phone since the professional said it will take some time to finish.

”Do you have something in mind?” I think for a while before shaking my head I haven’t thought about that honestly. It was Jimin’s idea in the first place.

”Um, curling it? Cutting the dead ends?” I offer and the lady nods with a friendly smile she starts working soon.

After the hair salon, we went shopping for a dress. He did all the reading while he applied for me and made a list of things we needed to get done before the Pageant. The first was to get my hair fixed the second one is to find a dress for the ending ceremony.

I struggle to bound the backside of the dress but to no avail, I can't reach the zipper on my own.

"Jimin?" I call his name rather uncertainly but it's the better option since I don't want the guy shop assistant with the rude attitude to touch me plus I trust Jimin. It's just a dress he saw me dressed up before so I don't know why I can't calm down the stupid pounding of my heart. It’s probably because of the way he stared at me through the mirror I tell this to myself.

"Yes princess, do you need help?" Now is not the time to think about inappropriate thoughts it’s Jimin we are talking about. A friend. I clear my throat before speaking hoping that the words will come out steady.

"Actually yes. I can't get this dress up can you come in and help me?"

I hold the front of the dress not to reveal too much skin this dress is so tight that I needed to get rid of my bra since my body won't fit in the front of the dress otherwise, I'm pretty sure the line of my panty shows as well but it felt too much to remove.

"You look beautiful." The praise made my heart melt his eyes shimmered in adoration as he found my gaze through the mirror he maintained eye contact while he reached for the zipper of the dress he touched the upper part of my ass accidentally my cheeks flushed in pink he rested his other hand on my shoulder keeping the dress together. What’s with him and mirrors? He seems to act differently when one’s around.

"Thanks." I whisper bashfully the tiny booth suddenly feels too hot not sure if it's from embarrassment or from something else I cannot put my finger on. He steps back admiring the dress and how I look in it with the help of his hand still resting on my shoulder he turns me to face him he looks up and down memorising my body seeing his gaze I feel exposed even though I know I'm wearing clothes. Partially.

"Hmm. So pretty." He slides his fingers down the length of my arm with gentle motions stopping at my elbow pushing my body flush against him my back collides with the booth's thin wall with a soft thud as I tried to gain back some distance.

The sweet cologne hits my nose with his eyes hooded he looks down mere centimetres away from my lips. He licks his telling me without words that he wants to kiss me looking between my lips and eyes for confirmation but he is soon done waiting.

I was about to protest when he leaned in which results in that our teeth clash but it doesn't deter him from kissing me harder connecting our lips together firmer with the pad of his finger Jimin caresses my jawline guiding my face to follow his lead. I can feel the soft press of his warm tongue asking for permission when the shopping assistant calls for us.

"Everything is alright?" He asks I'm sure he has his own ideas what's happening in here. We pant into each other's mouths we separated as soon as the assistant's voice reached our ears but Jimin didn't step back as I thought he would.

"Yes. The zipper was stuck but it's fine now." Jimin tells the guy and he seems to let that stay at that not intruding further. Jimin's cheek appears to be as pink as mine which makes me a little less nervous.

"I don't want to do this." I protest what feels like the 100th time this day.

We are currently sitting in the library and looking up topics for me fashin magazines littered in the tiny table and for almost 30 minutes since we got here Jimin's knee painfully touching my thighs under the table but I'm too afraid to voice it out.

Am I a bad person? Moving on this fast and pinning after my best friend like an affection starved bitch. Han was a jerk but Jimin is very nice which makes it ten times worse.

After our shared kiss in the changing booth, Jimin seems too normal. Am I the only one affected by it? I’m at the conclusion that it wasn’t even real and my head just played tricks with me cruelly. What frustrates me more is that I haven’t got a full taste and it’s affecting me nonetheless.

”Hmm.” He hums distracted not paying attention to my whining. He turns a page his face lit up as he positions the magazine to let me see its content. There’s a tall girl in a nice dress and each side there’s an article about manners. I almost roll my eye at that. Manners and I are not very familiar with each other.

”What about it? I thought I just have to say I want world peace and cry a little but you actually think about the topic I have to talk about?”

I remember him saying that in one of the rounds I have to talk about a chosen topic for ten to fifteen minutes. He’s more serious about this than I thought at first. Why do I find his determination cute and hot at the same time? Something is clearly wrong with me.

”World peace? It’s not Miss Congeniality Y/N.” He puts the article down laughing with his head thrown back but soon composes himself when the librarian warns us to be quiet or we have to leave.

”Yes, Jimin be quiet.” I retort however my smile vanishes when he leans closer his hand flat against my thigh.

”Did you say something?” His breath fanning my face he keeps his voice down this time. I don’t dare to look down his hand is awfully close to where I don’t want it to be and especially not in a library.

It’s like a switch is turned off and on in him at the most unexpected moments.

"You're being touchy again. Are you going to glare at every single male until we are done?" The corridor is busy with people and Jimin refuses to leave my side opting for helping me find the sitting room.

I wasn’t feeling nervous when I woke up this morning but getting closer and closer for the competition to end the nerves making my stomach flip in an uncomfortable way was getting stronger with every second.

"I'm just making sure you are safe, sweetheart men are wolves you know." He secures his jumper to cover my front. This bikini wasn't even that revealing for fuck's sake. Although he’s unnecessary protectiveness was enough to channel my focus into something else.

"You are a man." I state the obvious looking deadly into his eyes articulating the word ’man’ for emphasis.

I'm kind of done with his overprotective behaviour. He kissed me and now he thinks he is some kind of older brother for me. I honestly don't know what to think. And the way he teased me in the library. There’s no way he wasn’t aware of his hands on my body.

"But I'm allowed to look at you they're not." The little whiny edge in his voice doesn’t melt me this time he’s being childish. It sits on the tip of my tongue to say what makes you think that you have my permission, but I refrain from doing so.

"Jimin it's like the same when we are at the beach it's just a bikini and they will see it eventually when I go on stage." I decided to use another approach instead.

"I'm suddenly not sure about this. How about we get out of here?" The hand holding the jumper up strengthens on my body.

"Calm down. You made me do this so we're going to do this." I say it like there’s no room for discussion.

Two people were eager to make their existence visible while we were bantering I can’t say I was dying to see Han and his new puppet. Han wasn’t even aware it’s me next to Jimin I guess a little dress change and makeup do wonders.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here?" I can’t say the same. Despite the thought, I remain silent but thinking again I straighten my back and call her out on her words. She’s a year above us I remember this girl because she’s always noisy in class. She retakes one of our classes that’s why my year knows her in the first place.

"Are you asking or stating it?" I roll my eyes Han's hand curves around the girl's waist holding her close.

Really her? He must be fucking her because there’s no way she can write his essays for him.

"Y/N?" Han's unsure voice makes me satisfied. Call me now ungirly you prick if you dare. But I can’t relish in the feeling because her highness speaks again.

"I meant it's nice that you are here since there will be a winner and we always need a loser." I’m not going to mention how unreal this girl looks. Her hair is blonde but it’s the doll-like artificial kind of blonde. It’s stereotypical but her voice is making me cringe it’s like she swallowed a toy duck the kind which whistles when it’s clenched.

"Hold your fake tits Y/N's going to win." I never heard Jimin using explicit words before I'm shocked beyond belief. Han’s eyes linger on the way Jimin holds me close, it looks like he knows something I don’t.

"5 minutes!" Hearing the yelling of the staff it's our cue to leave.

"What was that?" I'm struggling to hold back my laughter. We finally arrive in front of the door where a huge sign says the sitting room.

"She insulted you. I'm not going to watch this chick looking down on you." It’s just now that he releases his hold letting the jumper fall.

"And I'm thankful. The only validation I need is from you Jimin. Do you really think I look ok?" I’m nervous it’s totally out of my league to be here. The thoughts about those two leaving my brain easily.

"Look ok? You look gorgeous. Keep that in mind that after this day no matter what happens you'll remain the winner in my eyes." He massages my shoulders his fingers dig into my flesh in a calming manner.

"That means you’re going be proud even if I'm last?" He shakes his head in disbelief he has more faith in me than I have in myself.

"Don't say that. Have a little faith in you darling."

I smile as soon as I saw Jimin's figure lingering by the door our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror I put my flowers down on top of the dressing table reaching for him to receive a congratulation hug. I can’t say I'm disappointed that I'm not finished in the first place but I'm kind of happy because I ranked third place which is quite the achievement on my part and it all thanks to Jimin.

Grabbing my hips when he gets close enough he crashes our mouths together in a hot kiss moving his lips skilfully against mine with unconcealed eagerness like he waited years to do that. He steps closer traping my body between his body and the dressing table angling my head to slip his tongue into my mouth. He’s not as gentle as before.

"Jimin." I pant. "But I didn't get first place." I reason but he shuts me up with another kiss on my abused lips he gets my lower lip between his teeth basking in my reactions I let my eyes flutter open seeing his face this close he looks like an angel the only thing giving him away is that his eyes hid not so innocent thoughts.

"I told you. You're a winner in my eyes. Do you want your reward sweetness?" He kisses my earlobe after releasing my lip whispering into it before he moves down to pepper the exposed skin on my neck with wet open-mouthed pecks.

"Jimin, we are in public. Someone might see us." I try not to give in so easily but it was hard controlling my needs since the sexual tension grew tenfold after our little kiss inside the changing booth and the library. Shit, his mouth feels good on my heated skin.

"They're celebrating the winner no one will search for us for a while. How about we hold our little celebration as we wait?" The suggestion makes my eyes roll back into the back of my skull my legs shake in anticipation and he grins seeing my lust-filled expression.

"You're unbelievable. Do you want to fuck me in a dressing room while anyone could see us? Is that a kink of yours?" My head clears a little as he backs away looking at his reflection behind us in the mirror.

"I'm not going to fuck you here baby." His eyes focus on me again caressing the skin on my waist the gesture is lovely but I can't help feeling disappointed hearing his words. Of course, he wouldn't want to fuck me what was I thinking. We are talking about Jimin he could have everyone, of course, it's not me who he wants.

"Oh." I cannot help but let out a disappointed yelp he must sense my anxiety since he continues.

"This is just the foreplay don't be disappointed cheesecake. I'm planning on worshipping your body and we have no time for that here. I'm willing to wait to fuck you till we get home until then I just need a quick taste." He plays with the band of my underwear showing his intentions he undoes just the right side of the bow keeping the material in place revealing a part of my skin there.

"Bold of you to assume I'm going to let you." Hearing my mocking voice he places his palm against my heat making me moan out with how precisely he moves his fingers. It was embarrassingly easy to make me shut up and he loves it.

"Did you say something? I didn't hear you." He never falters his ministrations his index finger slips under the fabric feeling the wetness that gathered there he moans into my ear after he places a quick kiss to the underside of my collarbone.

"I said hurry the fuck up." I take hold of his biceps the slow-motion his one finger provides soon feels not enough to satisfy me.

"Since it's your prize I'm not going to tease you this time." He slowly drops down to his knees seeing him in front of me is enough to moan out and he cannot stop the light chuckle leaving his lips the lips he’s going to wrap around my heat.

"I was waiting to get you out of those the moment I saw you in them." He plays with the other side of the bow which is still in place. Once it’s undone he shoves the material into his pockets. I realise that I don’t know much about him at all in the field of sex. We never talked about it but I knew he’s not a virgin.

"Hmm, that's why you were covering me the whole time? It was not because of the boys, was it? You covered me so I won't give you a boner while we wait for the staff's call." He chooses this exact moment to lick a long drawn out stripe up my folds sucking on my clit in a teasing manner. He hooks a hand under my leg to position it and lift it onto his shoulder for better access. My long-nailed fingers pull on his hair.

"You figured me all out, baby. Now less talking and more moaning." Ending his statement he dives in my legs shake due to the pleasure he sure does know his ways around a women body. I wonder how many partners he had but I need only one finger to slip inside to forget every thought I had. I whine at the stretch not because it’s uncomfortable but because it’s not enough I’m so wet that I could take him right then and there.

”Please, Jimin. Please.” At this point, I’m not even sure what I’m begging for but luckily Jimin knows exactly what I need. The neediness not only evident in my voice and soft mewls but in my body as well in restless shaking it makes Jimin smile against me he caresses the inner side of my thigh his tongue on my clit draws eight shapes his fingers slow but reaching deep it’s obvious he’s trying to extend my sweet torture.

At first, only using one finger then it’s quickly turned into two scissoring it occasionally making me ready for his cock the thought of him being inside of me automatically makes me clench around his fingers. The way he emits little sounds of appreciation while going down on me is a huge turn on. I doubt he feels better than me right now but sure does it seems like he enjoys it a lot more normally guys do.

”J-Jimin.” I stutter his name his tongue and fingers starting to feel too much for me to handle I fidget as much as I can while Jimin’s hands holding me in place I can’t hide away from the feeling and he doesn’t stop.

He speeds up his movements not listening to my silent pleas to stop the way he licks up every drop and welcoming the new waves of wetness makes my head spin. ”I’m going to cum.” I warn him I grab the side of the table I need something to hold on tight to ground myself against the intense feeling of my fast approaching orgasm. ”Ah J-Jimin.” He hums with his mouth wrapped around my sensitive bud I close my eyes so hard that I start to see red dots in my vision. He doesn’t stop even though I reached my high with shaky fingers I can finally pull his head the sight I see when he looks up to take in my fucked out face almost makes me push through another orgasm itself.

Jimin uses the back of his hand to wipe off the leftover wetness gathered around his mouth and chin it was glistening in the sun provided light. As he gets up from the crouching position he slowly lets my leg touch the ground again he starts doing calming smooth circles on my hipbone delivering light kisses on my lip waiting for me to get back to my senses.

He gives me the sweetest smile I have ever seen on him. Almost makes me forget how he was between my legs a few minutes prior.

"B-baby what are you doing?" I could hear the ragged breath he sucked in through his nose it takes time to get on my knees since they’re kinda shaky I grabbed his hipbone to steady myself on the ground looking up at his face with a proud smile.

I caressed the soft flesh under his shirt I could feel the muscles contracting under my light touches. I look in front of me to study the outline of his dick he’s hard and he’s hard because of me.

"It's not fair of me to take and not give back the favour don't you think?" I palm him through the rough material of his jeans he moans significantly loud it earns a huge grin on my part and an embarrassed smile on his. Cute.

"This day is all about you. I'm going to show you how proud I am because of you." Despite his words, his opposition was weak he let me palm him he wasn’t able to keep his eyes open when I applied more pressure. I love the way he’s so responsive to my every touch and the high pitched tone he moans in the back of his throat. The whiny edge of it encourages me to do better because I certainly want to hear more of those.

"By letting me blow you. Pants down." I raise one of my brows waiting for him to remove his pants for me. His eyes reopen when he doesn’t feel my hand on his body he looks down where I’m sitting on my legs knees bent he sucks in a shaky breath, pupils dilated and he finally nods he clears his throat to sound more collected.

"Shit. Fine."

"In any other situation, I would love to hear how vocal you are Jiminie but right now you need to keep quiet for me. Can you do that? Hmm?" I tease him I take a good look at his member his grith is quite impressive he’s thicker than it seemed when it was inside his boxers. Before I could change my mind or make Jimin embarrassed because of my staring I wrapped my fingers around him there are a few inches I cannot reach and It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.

"This feels so g-good." I collect the precum to help me move up and down his shaft, after a louder whiny moan on Jimin’s part I decide to hold him firmer he throws his head back both of his hands grabbing the table’s edge he’s holding back not to thrust up into my hand the pulsing vein visible as he bares his neck.

"A-ah please slow down, i-it's too much." Reciprocating the favour I lick at the tip while speeding up my jerking motions the double pleasure forces a loud whimper to escape his parted lips.

A knock interrupted our moment Jimin's body goes rigid afraid that we'll be caught. I withdraw my ministrations letting his shaft leave my mouth with a wet pop. Despite the risky situation, I can see it on him it requires a lot of self-control on his part not to thrust back into my mouth.

"Yes?" I answer going back to deliver a kittenish lick to his tip not letting the newly released precum go to waste Jimin stutters biting his lip hard not to whine out. My voice sounded worn out but the staff member didn’t pay attention to it.

"The closing ceremony will start soon." So she’s here to inform me.

"When?" I ask between licks I found the throbbing vein at the underside of his cock following the line up from the base to tip a low grunt leaves Jimin's lips I automatically gaze at the door but thanks to the noises of the people outside of the door the sound is lost within these four walls.

"15 minutes."

I hum against his dick in acknowledgement the vibration shoots another pleasurable wave up his spine immediately Jimin's fingers strengthen in my hair. "I'll be there." I pull away for a second to offer my answer to the assistant. She leaves after that.

"Let's bet Jiminie. Do you think I can make you cum within 15 minutes?" His eye flutter shut groaning when I apply pressure again using my hand to pump his full length this time it's easier due to the spit from the previous help of my mouth.

I use the heel of my palm to smear down the newly formed precum leaking from his tip he's extremely sensitive to my every touch I continue licking the tip circling my mouth around the head of his cock the pretty high pitched moans getting significantly louder but I let him he's close anyway.

"Y-you don't have to s-swallow it."

"Shit. You swallowed." I liked the way his eyes darkened by the discovery the salty taste won't be my favourite flavour but it was alright also this way it left less of a mess.

I need to be presentable soon. My jaw hurts because of the long use but it worth it seeing Jimin's fucked out state he looks even prettier with a sheen of sweat coating his spotless skin. It makes me proud knowing he’s like this because of me.

"Are you alright?" I comb my fingers through his messed up hair his fringe sticking to his forehead looking me up and down behind his long locks framing his eyesight with bedroom eyes slightly closed still trying to get down from his high.

"More than okay, baby. More than okay."

Circling his hands around my waist he pulls me closer until our bodies fully pressed together he rubs his nose into my pulse point kissing it I feel the faint pressure of his teeth that I grab the back of his head to pull it away. He whines because of the denied access but lets me pull him back.

”I can’t have a hickey Jimin, I don’t want everyone here to know what we did in this dressing room.” I reason but he seemed to like the idea, I hit his chest with a serious expression at that his wide smile starting to piss me off.

”Fine, fine. I’m surprised you still have the energy to be this violent. Jeez, woman.” Jimin wets his lips with his tongue his face shows satisfaction and cockiness. I wonder how many girls were able to see this side of him.

”We have limited time Jimin. I need to get that dress on.” I decide to ignore the smirk and move I don’t have much time before I need to get back out there and this dress is so tight to get on and now I’m sweaty too. ”I need help.”

”I would rather get you out of it though.” I turn my back to him so he can get the zipper up.

”Of course you would.” I roll my eyes following the sarcastic sentence.

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milknette · 3 years

Text

chapter 06 - anime

水鏡照らす光跳ねて、今が特別に感じた。

tumblr month: @adrinetteapril

links: ao3 | ff.net chapter: previous | next

ADRIEN makes it his mission to introduce Marinette to all the wonders of the human world.

He invites her out to try human activities, goes with her to try different human meals, encourages her to listen and watch various human media:

His most recent point-of-concern— anime.

“I just think it’s an absolute crime that you’ve never seen the in wonder and beauty that is Japanese anemonetion,” Adrien explains, putting on a dramatic face.

“... Japanese what?”

“Animation,” he amends, then noticing her judging expression, continues. “Look, I’m running out of puns! We’re hanging out way too much— I can’t catch up.”

Marinette finds herself laughing. “I mean, we could hang out less if you wanted to.”

“No!” He argues; says it a bit too loudly, really, as she evidently looks taken aback by his reaction. “I mean,” he coughs. “I just found someone to watch anime with me. You’re not getting off the hook that easily.”

(Adrien looks proud of himself. “Cool, I haven’t used that one yet!”)

She rolls her eyes, then stretches back upon the bed. Adrien casually sits on the chair, propping his head back upon the back rest. “So, what human torture show are you putting me through this time?”

“You say that like you didn’t cry over Moana.”

“If you did not cry while watching Moana finally accept herself and proclaim her love for both the sea and her people then I do not trust you—.”

He laughs, then nods in understanding. “It is a pretty good Disney movie,” Adrien points out. “A lot better than the earlier films.

“You mean, unlike the Little Mermaid?” Marinette responds dryly, visibly cringing in distaste. “The only thing that film got right about us mermaids was that we really don’t like mingling with humans. Ariel would be a one-in-a-million. And insane, probably.”

“So you’re Ariel, then?” She pointedly glares at him at even the mere suggestion of it, and he raises his arms in fake surrender. “I meant your interest in the human world! You are with us now, after all. And I like to think that you enjoy my company.”

“Eh,” Marinette only says offhandedly, lips tilting up the slightest bit at his unimpressed expression. “But I sure wouldn’t be the type to sell my soul to a— well, they don’t even exist, evil sea witch, just to flirt with someone. Especially one that’s human.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to do something as dramatic as sell your soul to get a human to fall in love with you,” Adrien says easily.

And what exactly does he mean by that?

“I— uh,” she flounders, takes a deep breath in, then shakes her head. “Anyway! What are we watching?”

(Yes, a smooth change of topic.)

“I figured that we could watch one of my personal favorites.” He grabs the remote and presses play on the stream— a pun that goes over his head and not hers, which makes Marinette truly wonder if she is spending too much time with him; if she’s already thinking of puns without even thinking about it.

Instead, the mermaid nods absentmindedly and decides to try and sit through the first episode— at the very least, to have him leave her alone. (Though the real reason may be that she just wants to spend time with him; though she’d never admit it.)

In any case, the decision doesn’t matter: because they end up binge-watching the entire series.

And Marinette cannot stop crying as the final scene cuts into view.

Adrien had somehow made his way to the bed halfway through watching, as she leans against his arm while staring helplessly at the screen.

“That’s it? It’s over?!”

He smiles in slight amusement, then nods. “Come on, it’s a sweet ending. And it ties up everything nicely.”

“No, it was perfect but I— I’m just,” she trips over her words, evidently conflicted and frustrated over the finale. “It’s done, right? There aren’t anymore new episodes or anything?”

“Nope,” he replies easily. “That’s all of it, since you inseasted on watching everything this morning.”

“What do you mean ‘this morning’, it’s only like 8PM—,” she pauses as he shows her his phone screen, the time 3:47 PM displayed front-and-center. “It’s almost 4AM?!”

She pauses, looking outside to see the moon slowly fading from view. “No but I— last time I checked it was— how did that happen?”

He’s full-on laughing now, and grins. “Power of anime; it gets you hooked, so you won’t be able to sleep until you finish all the episodes. Then you basically black out and only realize how many hours have passed when it’s already over.”

“You’ve introduced me to a cursed medium,” Marinette only mutters, running an exhausted hand down her face. “I’m supposed to be studying today.”

“Come on,” he says back, tilting her head in his direction. “I’ll help you out. This is for Mme. Mendeleiev’s class, right?”

At that point, she belatedly notices their altogether compromising position: lying together on her bed, his arm guarding her neck, and their faces only a few inches apart (she can see the green in his eyes: notice how they perfectly capture the shade of nature on land— beautiful), and almost falls over as she takes a quick step back.

The fact that she had been in such close proximity with a human, for an unknowable amount of time, makes her panic. The fact that it’s Adrien effectively makes her panic even more— though of a notably more intense variety and degree.

(She refuses to expound on the feeling.)

“Yeah!” Marinette finally manages to splutter out, before getting herself off the bed as quickly as possible and making her way to her backpack. She pats it awkwardly. “Have a lot of research to do if I want to ace that test.”

Adrien only stares at her for a moment, smiles, and she feels her mermaid-heart threaten to burst out of its chest. She doesn’t know how to explain the feeling, but Marinette finds herself thrown into overdrive when they’re together; unable to even conduct the most basic functions when he gets too close.

It’s absolutely inconvenient and irritating.

But she finds that it strangely feels good as well.

“You’re going to study now?” Adrien only asks, once again waving his phone in her direction. “It’s 4:00 AM, you can study later,” he says. “You just watched almost twelve hours of anime in the span of a day— that’s too much screen time for your brain.”

“But I’m not tired!” Marinette tries to argue, which would’ve held more basis if she hadn’t evidently swallowed down a yawn that tried to escape her throat. “As her TA, you can’t have Mme. Mendeleiev’s worst student failing her test, right?”

Adrien sighs, standing up and walking over to her. Once again, he’s at an extremely close distance, and Marinette’s almost confident that he can hear her not-heart beating.

He looks at her, and they hold eye contact. “I may be her TA, but I’m your friend first. So go and rest, Marinette. I’ll help you as soon as you wake up.”

“Fine,” she says resignedly, before walking over the bed. “What about you?”

“Well, I was just planning to hop over with you on your bed and—,” noticing the panicked expression on her face, Adrien laughs. “Kidding. Nino lives nearby, so I’ll probably crash at his to make it easier on both of us when I come back.”

“You don’t have to come back, you know,” Marinette responds, suddenly feeling the slightest bit guilty about keeping him in the area. “I mean it— I can do it myself.”

“But it’d be easier if we did it together, ” Adrien only points out. “Besides, you’d be getting help from her star student. I don't think that's something you can pass up on.”

“Ah right, the star who caused an accident to some poor faculty member for leaving water trails all over the outside of her classroom.”

He grins. “I seem to recall that being someone else’s fault,” Adrien hums back. “I was just trying to help out a friend.”

“Oh, so we’re friends now?”

“I’d be open to taking it to the next level,” He responds just as easily, echoing Alya’s statement from weeks ago.

The weight of her words don’t even dawn on her after a minute— with the panic consequently weighing in.

“Anyway,” Adrien continues, “I’ll be going ahead, so you have no excuse but to rest.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, then nods to her lightly. Sea you later, Marinette.”

“You’ve used that already you know that right?”

“I think it’s a classeac,” he says easily, then opens the door. “I’ll come back in a few hours, okay?”

“... okay.”

He smiles, one last time, before the door effectively shuts, and she’s left to her own devices.

Marinette calmly walks over to her bed, then flips over to lie down on it.

She remembers basically cuddling with him over these sheets.

And then she screams into a pillow.

#sandbar nine #adrinetteapril2021 #adrinette april #adrinetteapril #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml

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duskyskz · 4 years

Text

- Erasure - 1

Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

With washed out, dyed pastel hair, sea salt and acrylic clinging to his jeans, Hwang Hyunjin expected to find himself many places that night. A jail holding cell. Under the abandoned train station bridge. Maybe even his own bedroom.

Your living room wasn't on the list.

Warnings - Some angst in later chapters, suggestive/smut, minor character death mentions, Hyunjin is an eboy and a little angsty, Changbin is doing his best as a big brother, slow burn (?)

A/N - Finally! Sorry for the delays, my head just hasn’t been with me this week;; I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am excited to write it.

***

The steady buzzing of your speakers fills the living room as you watched Changbin scroll through the Netflix home page. Both of you settle deep into the sofa, balancing a bowl of popcorn and chocolate between your knees.

“Endgame? Homecoming, Nightmare on Elm Street?” Binnie flicks through the suggestions, and you shake your head in distaste. “I'm not watching that octopus documentary again!”

“You only hated it because you cried at the end.”

“She died! He had to look after her little babies! Your heart is too cold, too far gone for that level of compassion.” The last part of your brother's grumbles are cut off when you throw a burnt kernel at his forehead, barely missing his ear.

There’s nobody else home. Nobody else ever comes home, either. It's been just you and Changbin for a while, and it's not all that terrible. He’s a few years older than you, having graduated last summer and now undertaking an apprenticeship at the village police station. It doesn't pay a stellar amount, but Changbin reassures you once he passes the trainee exams he’ll treat you to a new pair of winter boots and you can finally quit the ice cream parlour to focus on college. You tell him that even if he wins the lottery tomorrow, you'll work your own job. For all the support your elder brother gives you, you like having your own thing. It makes you feel a little more involved, a little more even than jsit washing the dishes and doing his laundry on days he’s too tired to move.

The Thursday evening is reserved for you both, to catch up on the hours together you miss during the week when Changbin doesn't get back till you're fast asleep and you don't have the chance to say good morning.

He’s been doing that a lot more recently.

Sighing into his coffee, shaking his head at nobody in particular. It's easy to notice the signs of stress and overwork in his face, sunken and tired even on the weekends when he finishes early.

“Do you wanna finish Teen Wolf?” The softness in his voice when he addresses you is the same, though. “We have three episodes left of this season, if you wanna binge.”

“Sure.” You want to ask him about the circles under his eyes. What’s got him coming home later and later because nothing ever happens in this town. “I'm still waiting on Derek’s redemption arc.”

You're twenty minutes into the episode when a vibration from your coffee table catches your attention. You glance at Changbin, but he ignores his ringtone, flipping it to silent.

It rings again, no music, but harsh vibrations drumming against the polished wood.

And again.

Knowing he’s not picking up to make a point of it, you pause the show, nodding at the mobile he’s avoiding glancing at. “Go on. Pick up, it might be an emergency.”

“If it's an emergency they don't need an intern there.” Despite his words, Changbin shifts his position and you know he’s growing hesitant.

“If it's an emergency all the more reason for you to be there and learn.” You state with more force behind your tone. “Why have your grades been dropping? You're coming home so late but your exams keep getting delayed -”

“My grades are fine!” Changbin never snaps at you, but the frustration in his voice is evident. “I'm fine. There's just - Just one case we're working on and I'm nearly there, I just need time.”

You shut your mouth, letting him speak.

“There’s this kid who keeps tagging the beach houses on Dawning Lane, and that shit was expensive to put up last year. Some stupid, bored child that thinks a few cans of spraypaint and lung cancer are a good excuse for your adolescence. He’s not even that good… Just scribbles.”

His lips pout in a frustrated whine at the last phrase, and you know he’s more frustrated at the situation than he is at you or himself.

A beat of silence, interrupted by another ringtone - you almost reach for it yourself to check the caller ID and force him to pick up, before Changbin’s arm shoots out past you to snatch the device, slinking out the door and into the hallway.

You aren't surprised when a few moments later, your brother’s head pokes nervously out the door frame - He's already got his coat on, waving his phone at you as an awkward goodbye.

“I’ll see you in the morning, y/n.”

“Yeah, see ya.” You salute back, smiling to ease the tension in his shoulders, and it works a minimum. You won’t see him till the late evening at best.

The door clicks shut as soon as he turns around, leaving you surrounded by popcorn and empty space. You really aren't surprised - but it'd be pointless to deny you weren't hurt by another night alone with Teen Wolf playing idly through your TV speakers. Cold popcorn only did so much to soothe your heart, and the distance wedging itself recently between your sibling bond was hard to brush over, between missed calls and texts too often left unanswered.

You just really miss your big brother.

You commit yourself to Stiles Stilinsky instead, sighing into the blanket around your shoulders. Autumn rolls in quick by the seaside, making your calves prickle with goosebumps. It's nearing 11pm, you realise, picking up the -

Thump!

Your fingers freeze, hovering over the TV remote. Changbin wouldn’t be back yet, he never comes home the same night he leaves.

“Bin?” You try it anyway, calling tentatively into the hallway. It’s still entirely black, void of disruption.

Clang!

That definitely came from your kitchen.

Armed with a half empty popcorn bowl and nerves of steel, you tiptoe into the other room. There’s a lump of something or someone crouched behind the dining table, and your grip around the glass dish tightens marginally despite the quivering of your knees, fumbling for the lightswitch without taking your eyes off the rising dark mass as it straightens its back.

“S-Stay down! I have corn and I know how to use it!” You don’t have a fully formed plan yet, but you’re sure the sharp kernels will be of some importance. Fluorescent white light floods the kitchen, momentarily blinding both you and the intruder who now stands at full height. A steady 12 inches above you.

“Ouch! Calm down, I’m not going to rob you!” He says, sounding almost exasperated at your defense of your own property. He still has his hands raised in defense, keeping the table between himself and you, and you’re grateful he hasn’t tried to knock your legs out from under you, yet. “I’m not here to steal your stuff.”

“What are you here for, then?” You lower the popcorn bowl, but don’t let it fall out of your grasp. He doesn’t seem dangerous - He doesn’t seem like he could manage clambering through the window you always leave ajar either, but here he clearly is. There’s something sticky and pink in his blonde hair, stains following down his shoulder blades all the way down the cuffs of his jeans. If anything, he looks...a little lost.

“It’s the address on the post-it note.” Your confusion must have been plainly obvious, because the boy elaborates, pulling a crumpled neon-green paper from his jacket. “The post-it note that man gave me. That’s what Changbin gave me.”

Perhaps you lack self preservation instincts, but there’s an uncertain vibration in his voice that makes you give up your weapon and attitude.

“You know my brother?”

“He told me if I really need to go somewhere, I can come here.” You watch slim fingers tug at the sleeves of his jacket as he measures with a weight akin to a glare. “He didn’t tell me it was his house, or that somebody else was living here.”

Bold of him to accuse you of ruining his night plans.

It really did only click in your head when you looked closer at his tangled hair, dried paint clumping it together at the ends of bleached blonde strands. The artistic menace haunting your sea-side town was standing right on your tiled kitchen floor, and he looked downright miserable.

And Changbin had invited him.

Biting down the discomfort at realising how little Changbin had been telling you recently, you set the popcorn down on the table, you take in the threat currently three feet before you. A tall, lanky boy, with odd shoelaces and a sharpie sticking out of his trouser pocket. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while, and probably brushed either - it’d be generous to say he ran more than a stressed hand through it anytime recently. Though chapped, his full lips and wide eyes made him look far too innocent for his own good, and you blamed your soft heart for finding the boy kinda cute.

He did have a leaf stuck above his ear, though.

You almost reached up to remove it.

“Do you wanna watch Teen Wolf?” You break the quiet that settled, already shuffling your feet out into the living room. You sincerely hoped he’d follow. You weren’t sure what you could do apart from leaving him standing on cold tile, and he already looked freezing from the night chill.

Luckily for you, with a hesitant step, your impromptu companion takes after you to the couch where your Netflix and remove still await instruction. Changbin might grumble at you tomorrow at finishing the season without him, but you needed something to lure the boy into comfort.

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You mention. The boy sits stiffly, clasping his hands in his lap with parted lips, avoiding the decorative pillows.

“Hyunjin.” Now that he’s actually inside your house, Hyunjin’s confidence seems to have evaporated. The thrill of the break-in, if you can even call is that, has worn off, giving way to the nerves. He’s suddenly too conscious of the paint on his clothes, of sandy shoes still on his feet, of the smudges still on his cheeks. Should he take his jacket off? Or wipe his shoes?

You press resume, watching him relax after a few minutes as his brain finally has something else to focus on to let his worries ease. Hyunjin doesn't seem to mind you already being halfway through the episode, and you let yourself admit it’s nice having someone around this late at night.

“How do you know Changbin?” You ask while the topic is still fresh.

“I don’t.” Hyunjin bumps his knees together, fiddling with a loose string on his jeans as he shrugs. “I don’t really know him, he just...saw me around a few times, and I guess he figured I could use a place to crash. So he gave me your address.”

“You’re the mystery kid painting the beach houses, right? On Dawning Lane.”

At the accusation, Hyunjin’s lips part, flipping to face you with wide, blinking eyes., knowing he’s in no place to try and deny it. You blink back, observing his reactions, in case he suddenly changes his mind about staying. “Are you gonna turn me in?...”

“No.” You shake your head after a moment of thought, and he visibly untenses. “For whatever reason Changbin didn’t, so I won’t either. If he trusts you then I do too.”

You’ll never know if it was the murmurs of the TV, or if Hyunjin did whisper a thank you, and you won’t ask. There’s a lot of things you do want to ask, but a tug in your heart tells you now is not the time. Hyunjin looks exhausted, eyes drooping with every slow blink as he does his best to focus on the screen, hands previously tugging at his jeans now still and flat on his lap, slouched forward as if any moment he’ll drift off sitting on your pillows. Flurries of fluorescent light flicker on his cheeks, over barely scrubbed paint smudges and faint cuts from running too fast, you guess. In the delicate, dimmed light of your floor lamp, it’s hard to imagine Hyunjin as a bad kid. Prickly, maybe. On edge is a better word for it, tension clinging to his shoulders like stubborn dust bunnies. Curse your naive little heart, you tell yourself, building up your courage to speak.

“Hyunjin?” He hums in response, straightening his back. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

All you’ve been taught in life sent alarm bells through your skull when you asked a complete stranger (who just two hours ago, broke in through your kitchen window) to sleep in your living room overnight, but Hyunjin didn’t feel like a stranger. Changbin trusted him enough to lead him right to your house, so that must count for something, right? And no matter how much you tried to keep your guard up around the boy, watching him struggle to stay upright instead of letting his tall, lanky body fall backward and rest comfortably only made you worry a little about him, not the other way around.

Well, he did say he’s not going to rob you.

“You can sleep on the couch if you want, I’ll bring you some blankets.” You prompt him again when he doesn’t respond. “Changbin won’t be back for a while still.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” There’s a lilt of doubt in his voice, but he sincerely hopes you’re serious. This couch is warmer than anything he’s slept on in months and he really doesn’t want to crawl outside again with the rain pattering against your roof.

“Sure, you haven’t tried to stab me yet.” You shrug, getting up to fetch a duvet and looking him over.

“Ah, you probably want to wash your hair from all...that,” Hyunjin’s hand flies to his hair, patting out the tangles as if it’s the first time he’s noticed them. “You can use the bathroom upstairs, there’s towels by the shower already.”

He nods, following your directions with a ‘thank you’. Once his footsteps disappear up the landing, you set about pulling out the couch into a flatbed, rearranging the pillows at its base. Lugging the duvet down from Changbin’s room had been a feat, but you’re determined to make the space welcoming. Satisfied with the cushioned bundle you created, you run back upstairs.

You invade your brother’s room for the second time that day, tugging open his drawers in search for something acceptably pijama-like.

“Hyunjin?” You knock tentatively on the bathroom door as the shower head turns off and the shuffling ceases. “I’m leaving some clothes for you to change into outside, okay? Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

You scroll through your timeline as you wait, catching up on the last few hours’ events from your friends until a shuffling to your left prompts you to raise your head.

Your brother’s sweats hang a little loosely around Hyunjin’s hips, ending just above his ankles, bare feet sliding over the wooden floor of your living room, sinking into the rug as he steps closer to where you sit. His own clothing cradled in his arms close to his chest, you can’t stop your thoughts drifting momentarily to the damp mess of sunshine coloured hair. With his jacket on earlier, it was hard to make out his build under layers of fabric, but now it’s proving a challenge to not focus on the lines of his arms or the curves of his large hands gripping his clothes. Luckily for your dignity, your nerves of steel allow you to drag your gaze away from the collarbones peeking out from under thin white cotton higher to meet his eyes instead and find your voice again.

“I brought down some pillows for you, these are a bit too hard to sleep on.” You note, pointing to the decorative cushions you moved onto the lounge chair. “My room is right opposite the bathroom if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.”

“M’okay.” Hyunjin towers above you, yet you’ve never seen a boy so dainty. There really is no other way to describe the delicate line of his nose bridge or the rosy tint of his lips when his tongue pokes out to lick them as he mulls over your words, settling down on the makeshift bed.

The proximity now feels different than the air between you when Teen Wolf still blared through your speakers, warm quiet heavy on your tongue with dim golden glow tumbling over his cheekbones that’s too much for your heart to take unprepared.

“Goodnight then!” You bounce up from the couch waving Hyunjin a quick goodbye, but a soft hand wrapping around your wrist pauses you.

“Wait,” Hyunjin brushes his thumb over your palm softly, and you hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps on your skin at the contact. “Thanks for not kicking me out...or calling the police. Y’know, as most people would for a break in.”

The smile he flashes you is almost teasing, but you can tell he means the words sincerely. You lay your other hand on top of his, patting in what you hope is a reassuring motion.

“Sure, Jinnie. It’s okay.”

#skz fluff #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenario #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #hyunjin erasure #hyunjin angst #stray kids imagines #changbin fluff

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dumbchickwrites · 4 years

Text

office affairs -- part 4

Pairings: CEO!Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam is the CEO of the Red Wing PR agency where Reader has been working for the past two years. Problem is, they both think one hates the other. However, when their friends set them up on a blind date, they’ll realise it was all a big misunderstanding.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: language, Reader is still thirsty, fluff, Mimi wants to gossip.

A/N: This series is part of @marvelmaree‘s birthday challenge. You can find the masterlist on my blog and hers! Enjoy!

Brunch with your friends and your sister is always a good time. You can’t complain. You have drinks, food and some of the people you love the most. And on this particular Sunday, you still feel the euphoria of your date with Sam.

All weekend you tried to let it go already, telling yourself that you were acting like a middle school girl. But at the same time, who cares, right? Once again, you reminded yourself to let yourself be for a moment, without your self-consciousness stopping you from simply feeling.

“Is she daydreaming again?”

“I bet she’s thinking about Sam.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“No one, baby. Eat your food.”

Someone snaps their fingers in front of your face. You blink a couple of times before frowning at the owner of said hand. Maria doesn’t flinch under your glare.

“Where did you go?” Noelle asked.

You take a sip of your mimosa before you answer.

“Back at L’Orage.”

“Annnnd…?” Natasha pushes.

“We—” you begin, but your gaze meets Michelle’s.

She’s looking at you like she also wants all the tea. Your eyes lower to her empty plate, hers follow your gaze. You know what she’s thinking, and she knows what you’re thinking.

“Mimi, you’re done eating right? Why don’t you go watch some TV inside?” you say before her little hand reaches the basket of pastries on the table.

“But—”

“Auntie Henny is right,” Noelle cuts her and you roll your eyes at the nickname. “We don’t want you to get sick, right?” she says, rubbing her belly.

“Okay, Mommy. Can I get more juice from the fridge, please?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you!”

Just like that, she’s back inside the house.

“I thought the use of that nickname was forbidden in this house,” you say.

“We’re in the backyard,” your sister gives you an innocent smile.

You throw your napkin at her but she easily catches it.

“Anyways. We kissed.”

“Huh,” Natasha crosses her arms over her chest and lays back on her chair. “But?”

“What?”

“There’s a but. There’s always a but with you,” Maria says.

“There’s no but. We kissed, that’s it. It was a very nice kiss. Then he took me home—Back here!” you add quickly when you see how big Maria and Natasha’s eyes got. “He said he’s down for a second date.”

“So how do you feel about him?” Maria asks.

“Do you want me to tell you you were right? Because that’s not gonna happen.”

Maria gives you a look. You sigh.

“It turns out he doesn’t hate me at all. He was actually kind of shocked when I talked to him about that. He thought I didn’t like him,” you take another sip of your drink. “I like him a lot. He’s nice, funny, he listens to me when I talk.”

“Annnnnd…?” this time it comes from Noelle.

“And I kinda want him to bend me over a desk some time.”

The four of you burst out laughing like madwomen.

“More seriously, I guess I should thank you guys. I had a really nice time.”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetie,” Natasha rubs your arm. “Personally, I think you guys are a match made in heaven. Literally.”

“Don’t jinx it, Nat!” Maria exclaims.

Natasha makes a zipping motion over her lips with a little smirk.

As Noelle refills your champagne flutes and you move on to another topic – here Noelle and Laetitia, the mother of the new kid in Mimi’s class --, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment.

You were lucky to find people you can rely on other than your sister after so many years. After everything that happened. Sure your sister is your best friend and vice versa, but sometimes you can’t help but feel guilty about all the stuff you dump on her.

It’s not easy for you to interact with people and maintain healthy relationship. You try your best to find a nice balance between over communicating and totally isolating yourself. You’re still a work in progress though.

That’s why all this dating business was pushed aside for a few years.

Maria and Natasha end up spending the rest of the day at your house. You order takeout, drink some more – responsibly though, all while binge-watching Disney movies and playing board games with Michelle. It’s the nicest day you’ve had in a hot minute.

When the girls leave and it’s finally time for bed, you go to sleep with the ghost of today’s smiles still dancing on your lips.

In your opinion, Mondays are overrated. You never understood this whole thing anyway. Sure it’s the beginning of a new week, but it’s still a day like the others.

This particular Monday though, is a bit special. You’re excited to see whether or not Sam had the flowers delivered in your office. So excited that you’re walking around with a huge grin, your face beaming as you step into the elevator.

“Well good morning m’lady,” Scott from HR greets you when you step off the elevator. He’s at the front desk, talking to Rumlow.

“Morning Scott,” you say, still smiling.

“You got a secret admirer, huh?” Scott asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Your office is filled with flowers. And I mean filled. Janet walked by ten minutes ago and she hasn’t stopped sneezing since. Y’know, allergies.”

“Oh, um… I—” you stutter, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m just messing with you, kiddo. Just—If it’s a dude from around here, just make sure you stop by my office some time, ‘kay?”

Okay… You need to end this conversation now. You can feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Honestly, it’s not that you don’t like Scott, everybody likes Scott. It’s just that he can be a bit too much sometimes.

“Sure thing, Scottie. You have a good day, okay?”

You don’t wait for his answer before you keep walking towards your office, climbing the stairs leading to the first floor with ease.

A woman you don’t recognize is standing in front of your office, staring at the glass wall. The cleaning crew must have left the blinds open again despite your multiple notes.

“Hello,” you greet her before you reach your office. “Can I help you?”

You can’t see the inside yet but Scott was right, the scent is strong. Just how many flowers did Sam send?

Her gaze meets yours as she whips her head towards you, her long burgundy hair following the movement. She’s wearing a green suit, a bold but beautiful contrast with her skin tone.

“Hi!” she smiles. “I’m sorry, is this your office?”

“Yes. You’re new here, right?”

“Yes, yes. My name is Gamora, I’m the new Digital Manager,” she offers her hand for you to shake.

You introduce yourself as you shake her hand. “… I take care of—”

“Events, yes. It’s written on your door. Anyways, I was just looking at the flowers in your office. Must be nice. My boyfriend… He’s not really that kind of guy.”

“Um…”

Once again, you don’t know how to talk to people.

“Sorry if I’m being weird.”

“Oh, no, it’s… Don’t worry about it. So where are you from?” you ask.

You figure you should at least try to make small talk with her. She seems nice, she has a very kind face. There’s something about her eyes though… She’s clearly been through a lot.

“I’m from New Asgard, in Norway.”

“Wow, how did you end up here?”

“My boyfriend, Peter. He lives in the US and he asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t say no.”

The name makes you flinch, but you wipe the discomfort away as soon as it appears. Peter is a common name. In this city alone there are hundreds of them. You need to get used to it, it’s been years already.

“Well, on behalf of the entire Red Wing team, I’d like to say welcome,” you give her a genuine smile.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot.” With a sigh, she throws one last glance towards your office before she starts walking away. “I better find Scott, we’re not done with the tour yet. I’ll see you around, I guess?”

“Sure. Have a good day!”

Once she turns around the corner, you take the last few steps that lead you to your office.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

Your office is filled with flowers all right. It’s not just fifty like Sam said. At least a dozen of bouquets of red roses, tulips and peonies are scattered around your office. On your coffee table, the empty spaces on your bookshelf, the floor… everywhere but on your desk. Thank God, the scent isn’t disturbing to you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper again.

You can’t believe your eyes. You set your bag on your desk and draw the blinds over the glass walls to keep the prying eyes out of your business. Walking around a bit, you take the time to inhale and admire every single bouquet.

“Wow, he really wasn’t joking.”

You turn around to find Natasha and Maria standing in your doorway, holding huge mugs.

That’s right the morning coffee. Morning coffee is always in your office on Monday and Wednesday.

“Aw sweetie, don’t cry!” Natasha grabs a tissues from the box on your coffee table and hands it to you.

You didn’t even realize you were crying. Damn, he really had you in the palm of his hand, huh?

“It’s just, no one has ever done something like this for me before, and I feel stupid now because I’m crying for fucking flowers.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid, okay?” Maria chips in. “From what you told us, you’re not used to this kind of treatment, so it’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed right now. Here,” she hands you one of the mugs she’s holding. “Mantis told us you just got in so we figured you didn’t have time to make your cup of tea yet.”

“Thank you.”

You take a sip of the beverage, the hot liquid helping with the lump in your throat.

“Is… Is he here?” you ask.

Their offices are located on the floor above yours along with Sam’s, so you rarely see him during the day.

“Not yet,” Natasha replies. “He’s late. Something about getting Falcon a new cone.”

Oh yeah. He mentioned his dog’s surgery Friday night.

“Good morning, ladies. You talking about me?”

There he is.

Sam is standing in the doorway, a smirk on his lips, always handsome. A warm feeling spreads in your chest at the sight of him, and this morning’s grin is back in an instant.

“Samuel,” Maria greets him. “You’re late.”

“Ah shit. The boss wouldn’t like that, would he?”

“Whatever,” Maria rolls her eyes at him.

“Maria, come to the kitchen with me, I want to see if the pastries have been delivered already,” Natasha says, grabbing Maria’s arm.

“But shouldn’t we go with—” her sentence is cut short by Natasha’s pointed look. “Ohhh. Right.”

The girls shut the door behind them as they exit your office, you and Sam left alone.

“Morning,” he says, slowly approaching you. “Do you like the flowers?”

“I do, very much. What happened to the fifty flowers, though?”

Sam shrugs. “They were supposed to represent the number of times I wanted to kiss you. But as the weekend went by, I lost count, so…”

Goddammit.

“Come here,” you mumble.

You grab his hand and pull him closer to you, your free hand finding its place at the back of his neck. The kiss you give him is slow and sweet as you do your best to express your gratitude. You’ve been on one date, yet he has managed to make you feel more special than you’ve ever felt. He really is something. Sam kisses you back, and you can feel him smile as he does.

“Thank you,” you say when you break the kiss. “This is… wow.”

Sam keeps your body close to his, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“You’re welcome. So… about that second date. How do you feel about roller skating?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I kind of like it. I haven’t skated since I was a kid, though.”

Sam nods. “Dinner and roller skating. Let’s say… Wednesday?”

“Wednesday sounds good,” you smile.

“Okay.”

Sam peppers small kisses on your lips and the corner of your mouth before letting you go. You instantly feel colder.

As he walks to the door, you seat at your desk and power up your computer, ready to start the work day.

“Wait, I need one more,” Sam says.

He rounds your desk and spins your chair so you’ll face him, before giving you another kiss. Once again, he peppers small kisses on your lips and cheeks and this time, you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s not even noon yet and I’m having the best day I’ve had in a while,” he whispers.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me blush,” you joke.

“Now that would be my greatest achievement.”

Sam leaves shortly after that, leaving you to start working with the same dumb smile from earlier on your lips.

***

Tags: @marvelmaree @ljstraightnochaser @blackmissfrizzle @youdonotghostnickfury @minillamakeup-blog

#maree's29thbirthdaybash #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black reader

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moonstruckbucky · 5 years

Text

Come Over (3/7)

Summary: You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader. Neighbor AU.

Warnings for Series: Fluff, angst, pining, the ush! Also, swearing, because nobody ever washed my mouth out with soap.

Notes: So I’ve daydreamed about a neighbor AU for an embarrassing amount of time, and I need something to get my creative juices flowing again. So, ta-da.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A month into your new life in New York, you feel more settled in. Your apartment doesn’t look like a warehouse piled high with boxes, and you’ve even spent some of your signing bonus on artwork to hang on the walls and a few plants to bring some life to the space. You’re even considering getting a cat.

At work, you frequently eat your lunch with not only Wanda and Vis, but the three other women on your floor. Maria, Charlotte, and Sarah are all mothers, so they don’t usually attend the girls’ night out you and Wanda plan every week, but they’re still pleasant to sit and chat with regardless. It’s made you feel even more at home at Stark Industries.

Speaking of, Tony is a riot, you’ve learned. You’ve come out of your shell a little more with each day you work for him, and it’s mostly in thanks to Tony’s easy-going personality. Though he’s clearly a workaholic on top of being addicted to caffeine (for anyone else this might’ve been a destructive combination but Tony seems to wield both extremely well), he feels more like a weird brother/father figure than a boss. He keeps most projects secret from you, but occasionally he’ll show you a new update or ask for your opinion as a consumer. You’re honest with him without kissing his ass too much about it.

Since he lives closer, Sam comes over a couple times a week to hang out with you and catch up on your favorite shows. He tries to bring Clint with him most times, but being neck-deep in a new case makes it hard for him to get away to visit. You settle for FaceTiming him during the week even though it isn’t the same.

It’s one of your weekly nights with Sam, who reclines in your new armchair with his feet up and an open beer in his fist. You’re catching up on Mindhunter with him, relaxed on the couch under a big fluffy blanket with your own beer. In between episodes Sam has been telling you all about the girl he’s been seeing, to which you demand you meet her for approval.

He rolls his eyes and asks, “Isn’t that my job?”

You scoff. “You’re my best friend, Sam, and as my best friend, I’ve got to make you’re taken care of just as much as you’re taking care of her.”

He grumbles under his breath but you can see a slight pinkness to his dark skin that makes you smirk in victory. A few moments of silence and then:

“So what about you and Neighbor Boy then? What’s going on there?” While your smirk drops, his widens. You take a long pull from your beer.

“Absolutely nothing, Sam.”

He snorts and gestures with his beer. “You have coffee dates almost every week!”

“He helps me put furniture together! There’s absolutely nothing but friendship there, I assure you.”

A doubtful look characterized by lowering of his eyebrows and pursed lips. A responding eye roll and scrunched up face, a silent don’t give me that look.

“Want another?” you ask, needing to busy yourself in order to keep your unusually attractive neighbor out of your head. Throwing the blanket off your lap, you stand up and accept the empty bottle Sam holds out to you.

If he notices that you take a little longer to fetch two more beers, he doesn’t say anything when you get back to the couch. He presses ‘play’ on the remote and the topic of your neighbor is dropped.

For an hour.

“So, you’re coming next Sunday for our football party right?” Sam asks.

Once a month during football season, Sam and Clint co-host a party at your brother’s apartment. You make your five-layer chip dip and Sam brings a massive amount of wings while Clint provides endless beer and a giant wrap-around couch that seats eight. (You’re still not sure how he fit the damn thing in his apartment.) To antagonize Clint and to make the day a little more fun, you and Sam always show up in your matching Patriots jerseys representing the McCourty twins.

“Of course I’ll be there! I never miss it!” you reply with an incredulous look. Sam holds up his hands.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any new furniture that needed assembling that day.” He chortles when you chuck the throw pillow under your hip at him and nail him in the chest. “I’m kidding. Mostly. But, uh, I was gonna say, if you wanted to invite him, you could. Not as a date, don’t you throw that bottle! Jesus. Crazy. Just, Clint and I think he’s cool and it’d be cool to have another dude around.”

You watch him for a few moments, see no trace of his earlier teasing, and sigh and relax back into the couch. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“All I ask.”

Sam, bless him, leaves you be about Bucky for the remainder of your evening together. When he’s gone, your mind can’t rest just yet, so you open up a new beer and put on a rerun of CSI. You’ll regret staying up so late in the morning, but for now, you let your mind get sucked into the emotional episode of Warrick’s funeral.

Regret is a bitter bitch, and the next morning it comes in the form of a prominent headache paired with under-eye bags your makeup barely hides. A three-hour binge of CSI definitely wasn’t your smartest move considering you’ve a fairly important meeting with Tony in about two hours. Hair tied back in a ponytail and makeup...done but slightly unsatisfactory, you slip into a black pencil skirt with a mustard blouse tucked in. Your feet slide into a pair of black pumps and you throw on a jacket to combat the cool October morning.

You know your face shows your exhaustion as you give yourself a final once over, but there’s not much you can do short of downing copious amounts of coffee. Tote bag slung over your shoulder, you head out of your apartment with a sigh. As you’re locking your door, the one next to yours opens, and Bucky steps out looking ten kinds of delicious in his running gear, tattoos on full display thanks to his tight tank top.

You grunt when he tells you good morning, chuckles good-naturedly until he sees your eyes. Then he’s frowning in concern and you’re almost desperate to do anything to wipe it off. Such a man should not be frowning.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asks, falling into step with you towards the elevator. You resist the urge to rub your eyes in order to preserve your makeup.

“Not really. Sam stayed till about ten and then I stayed up a little while longer. Guess I just couldn’t fall asleep.” To punctuate your sentence, a long yawn escapes. Bucky stands next to you in the elevator, close enough you can feel the heat radiating from him and it’s wholly distracting. “And I have a meeting in a couple hours and I’m not really sure how I’m going to get through it without dozing a few hundred times. Know anyone who can hook me up with a caffeine IV?”

He laughs, the sound echoing in the small space, and despite the warmth and your jacket you still suppress a shiver.

“I’m afraid not. Hey, do you have a few minutes? We can go get a cup now, if you want,” he offers, blue eyes boring into yours, and you nod before you can really think about it. His smile brightens up the entire elevator, and then he’s leading you with a hand on your back out into the lobby and finally out onto the street.

He takes you to a place between your apartment building and the subway, stands with his hands in his pockets as you both wait in line. Sam’s invite bounces around in your head, your nerves expressing themselves in the form of tapping your fingers on your arms, which are crossed over your chest.

Bucky and you order your respective drinks and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Your hand on his arm stops him, has him looking down at you with those depthless blue eyes.

“I’ve got it,” you say softly with a small smile. He opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but you merely hand over some cash to the cashier. “You’ve helped me a ton this past month. Let me at least start paying you back with coffee.”

The blush that overtakes his face has your insides fluttering with giddiness. You have to bite your lip to keep back your grin, your entire body warming over the fact you’ve made this beautiful giant of a man blush. As the two of you stand off to the side and wait for your orders, you feel a small boost in confidence.

“Hey Bucky, I was wondering—” You’re cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone. He sighs and pulls the device from his pocket, and if you hadn’t been eyeing him so closely, you’d miss the slight downward twitch of his mouth.

“Excuse me just one sec okay?” he says apologetically. When he looks up at you, you know he means it and you nod. He smiles tightly and walks off down the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, accepting the call with a hushed “Hi”.

You wait patiently until the barista calls your name and Bucky’s, and you grab both cups and sip lightly from yours while Bucky’s on his call. You can see him in the hall, shoulders hunched and free hand swinging about as he gestures. That pinched look is on his face again and you feel a faint tug in your gut that has you wondering if you’re close enough friends to ask.

Before you can decide one way or another, he’s pulling his phone from his ear and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Sorry about that,” he sighs, accepting the coffee you hand to him with a close-lipped smile. He takes a long drink from it, wincing a little at the burn, and licks his top lip. It’s horribly distracting for a minute. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh, um, I was just wondering if you maybe—oh shit.” A quick glance down at your watch shows you’re going to be late if you wait any longer. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going otherwise Tony’s going to kill me with his newest project. Um, I’ll see you later?”

Bucky’s blue eyes are slightly widened in surprise at your sudden departure. “Y-Yeah, definitely. Maybe you can tell me about this new project.” It’s said with a wink that tickles your insides.

“Maybe. If I’m not sworn to secrecy. Bye, Bucky!”

“Have a good day at work. And thanks for the coffee!” he calls out as you fly out of the cafe.

Your exhaustion only worsens as the day goes on. The meeting you’d sat in on was nothing short of boring—even Tony dozed off a few times, but only you’d taken notice because you were seated beside him and heard the tiny little snores. Your planner had been filled with new doodles of suns, clouds, flowers, and a tiny little witch in the margins. You’re still unsure why you’d been required to attend this meeting; you have a pile of things on your desk that could have been done in the two hours you sat uncomfortably in your chair, listening to the other tech geniuses go back and forth on new design ideas.

By the time it’s time for you to leave, you feel dead on your feet, which are cramping in your shoes. Your neck, shoulders, and back are also killing you due to sitting in your chair and hunching over the screen built into your desk. The subway ride home has you almost falling asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying of the car and the four hours’ sleep you got the night before.

It’s a slow climb to your apartment, and as you pass Bucky’s door you hesitate. You never did get to ask him this morning and so, because you’re too damn tired to be shy, you turn and knock three times on his door. From behind the wood you can make out a scuffle, and then the door is yanked open and your mouth runs dry.

Bucky stands before you, shirtless and gleaming with sweat. He’s breathless, that broad chest heaving up and down. There’s a smattering of dark hair across his chest and beneath his navel that disappears into the band of his shorts. The hair on his head is mussed, as if he’d been sleeping or hand run his hands through it.

“Y/N,” he gasps. Crimson creeps up his neck and across his chest, stains his cheeks as well as he avoids looking at your eyes. He glances over his shoulder briefly before turning back to you, eyes cast down at the neckline of your blouse. “Wha-What are you, um, doing here?”

“I, uh, wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to my brother’s with me for the football game on Sunday?” you ask in an equally breathless rush.

Bucky seems surprised by the question and is about to answer when a second, female voice calls from behind him, “James?”

A blonde head appears over his shoulder and the slender woman tucks herself under Bucky’s arm, looking equally as disheveled. You feel the color drain from your face even though it warms under the implication that you've...interrupted. There’s no question of what they’d been, or had about to have been, doing because the blonde’s hair is ruffled just like Bucky’s, her full lips red and kiss-bitten. Her blouse is untucked and unbuttoned.

You can’t take your eyes off her, nor she you as she lays a manicured hand on Bucky’s chest, a universal female power move that says he’s mine.

Bucky looks as awkward as you feel, shifting from bare foot to bare foot even as his hand rests on the woman’s shoulder. He clears his throat and gestures with his free hand to the woman, whose eyes have not left your form and are currently on their third sweep of your entire figure.

“Uh, Y/N, this is Sharon.”

“His girlfriend,” Sharon interjects. A sideways tilt of her lips that you know means no good. She reaches out with that manicured hand for yours and you shake it quickly, dropping it as if it’s burned you.

In a way, it has. It’s burned you so badly on the inside that you want nothing more than to duck into your apartment with your tail between your legs. You can feel the flames licking at your gut, sliding up your esophagus to singe your throat. It’s bitter, the burn, and it puts a pressure in your throat and behind your eyes.

“Sharon, this is Y/N, our new neighbor I was telling you about.” He won’t look at you, focusing instead on the blank wall just over your shoulder.

His sudden refusal to look at you pairs badly with your embarrassment, from both interrupting and for ever thinking you might have a chance, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Chapter Four

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #neighbor au #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes neighbor au

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peace-coast-island · 3 years

Text

Diary of a Junebug

Rainy day gyroids

Rainy days are the perfect excuse to stay inside with a cup of warm tea and a good show to watch while letting the day pass on by. How fitting is it that the theme of this gyroid event happens to be rainy days?

Joining us on this rainy day adventure are Robert and Mace, two former members of Jamie's entourage back when she lived on Peace Coast Island. Robert Azarias is a writer and actor, best known for his work in the TV show Faerie Town, which just ended earlier this year. Mace Callaghan is an actor whose career kicked off thanks to people like Jamie and his cousin Amelia, who's also an actor as well as a producer. Both have been super busy as they're on a new show that's set to premiere in the fall so they're at the camp for a short vacation after pretty much working nonstop for the past several weeks.

The new show is called Mount Barley, RFD - which stands for rural free delivery - and it's about a journalist who moves back to his old hometown to take care of his aging father and reconnects with his old friends. Mace plays the main character, Alex, an ambitious creative who has a tendency to get carried away with his ideas. Robert's the co-executive producer/showrunner and has a recurring role as Jerry, a friend and colleague of Alex's who sometimes gets dragged into everyone else's problems due to bad timing. Other characters include Alex's dad Emmett, the wise father figure everyone looks up to, Blossom the pharmacist who's a neighbor to Alex, Leia, a childhood friend and work colleague, and Deedee, the hairstylist who serves as Alex's source for gossip.

Having insider information is kinda a blessing and a curse. Well, what I mean by curse is that I can't say too much about something because of non-disclosure stuff, which means I have to be careful not to let anything slip. Especially with a lot of show creators, writers, and actors being active on social media, it's kinda easy to accidentally reveal something that wasn't supposed to publicly come out yet. It's not usually anything super confidential but some companies are more particular about what people say more than others. While being able to interact with crew members has its perks, it also has its drawbacks - then again, that's social media in general.

Robert's previous show, Faerie Town, ended last year after five seasons. A good number of the entourage members were in that show like April Wingate, Melody Muto, Linus Cooper, and Cecelia Argent. Robert was a writer on the show as well as a recurring character who became more prominent from season three onwards.

Ending the show was one of those cases where they were told ahead of time that they weren't going to get renewed. By then, the overall story they wanted to tell was coming to a conclusion so it made sense to start wrapping things up. Being an ensemble show, it kinda suffered from a large cast - I'm overall satisfied with the way the main characters were handled but at the same time I felt that it could've been balanced better. And I'll admit, the writing during the last two seasons were weak, but not to the point where the show went downhill.

The way I see it, there's a difference between a show going downhill and a show where the writing isn't as top notch. Downhill is bad, as in this has a negative impact on how I feel about the show in general. An example of downhill is Popular Besties, which, looking back wasn't entirely good, but I enjoyed it as a kid. It was one of those shows which the quality dipped a lot - and knowing the issues going on behind the scenes, it makes a lot of sense as to why - and it gets to the point where you're watching a new episode out of obligation or dropping it all together.

Hogan Family Values is an example of a show that has fallen to weak writing. Like Faerie Town, it has a big cast, though it struggles more in terms of having too many characters to handle. It's ending after three seasons, which has ten episodes left. Season three started out pretty strong, but since then it has been a mixed bag. We all kinda suspected that it was ending as some of the episodes kinda had that vibe and that was later confirmed by the creator just recently.

I think the biggest problem with this season is that the pacing's kinda rushed and I feel like the show has kinda written itself into a corner by trying to wrap up various plotlines while introducing a bunch of new characters/plot points at the same time. On one hand the show could use another season just to pad things out a bit, but at the same time it makes sense why they would end it there.

The show's still good though, it's just season three doesn't have the same spark as the first two did. I mean, the stronger episodes of this season are some of the best in the show overall while the weaker ones aren't entirely terrible, just mediocre, or at worst, somewhat boring. And despite my reservations at the moment, I have faith in the crew that the ending will be satisfying, even if rushed.

A show with a satisfying ending is Star's Universe, which has become one of my top favorite shows of all time. I think, if it wasn't for the network, the show could've easily run for another season to even out the pacing towards the end. It also suffered from the uncertainty of being renewed, which then led to a movie. While working on the movie, the network decided to order an additional season at the last minute to fully wrap things up. There's still a lot the show can touch on but it's all extra stuff - and while it could've focused more on the supporting cast, I can understand why they couldn't because it's essentially not their story.

As for the overall story the show wanted to tell, they not only succeeded, but exceeded my expectations. The conclusion's satisfying in a way that it's open enough to revisit but if that's the end, then I'm happy with that as well.

I think Star's Universe has ruined me in terms of judging series endings. It still kinda doesn't feel real that the show literally just ended less than a year ago. The writing has also remained consistently strong for the most part and it's just a brilliant show. Now I feel like binging on a bunch of episodes. I guess you can say it's one of my comfort shows.

While collecting gyroids, we got to talking about Mount Barley, RFD a bit as well as catch up on life in general. Robert's got an interesting backstory that Hollywood has been wanting to make into a movie for years. He was known as the Etienne Falls Baby as he was born en route on the ill fated train that crashed in the desert. His father died in the accident while his mother passed away shortly after, leaving Robert in the care of three friends who helped bring him into the world. Only one of them survived and he, while carrying Robert, made a dangerous trek through the desert to find help. After the tragic ordeal, he adopted Robert, becoming somewhat known as a hero.

Mace is the nephew of actor Gary Stewart, who's well known on stage and screen, as well as his daughters Amelia and Lesley. It was Amelia who helped Mace pursue his dream of acting by helping him stand up to his father, who was against it. At the time he was going through a lot and as a result of everything, he finally had enough. It wasn't easy going against his father's wishes, but he had to or else he'd be stuck working at the bank being his father's successor.

He's still hoping for a reconciliation, though it seems unlikely at the moment. Since moving to the island, Mace rarely spoke to his father, who has pretty much disowned him. Back home he heard that his father's not too crazy about Mace having his own show as that'll make him more well known. At least his cousins and uncle have always been supportive of him - he had always been closer to them, especially after his mom passed.

It's been raining all day, though it started out as a light drizzle at first. I don't mind the rain too much - it adds to the rainy day theme! I love how gray and cloudy the sky gets - there's just something about rain that's calming and cozy. Also, it was the perfect excuse to break out my new umbrella - and it was worth every leaf ticket because not only it looks pretty, it kept me dry. Aside from the mud, collecting gyroids in the rain was a lot of fun!

When it started pouring we headed back to the cabin to begin crafting some stuff. I was surprised that we managed to collect a lot of gyroids today, then again, I think the rain might've helped some. We also managed to do some fishing and bug catching as well, which the guys had never done before. Robert's a fast learner when it comes to fishing - and a lucky one too as he managed to catch two king salmons!

Aside from collecting gyroids, we didn't get to be able to do too much sightseeing today. Once the weather clears up, I'm thinking of setting up a picnic in the meadow and a short hike along the trail. Then, depending on Gulliver's schedule, I was hoping we can catch a ride with him and explore an island or two. Robert mentioned that he always wanted to try out sailing so I want him to experience that. As for Mace, he says he's content with anything the camp has in store and he enjoys running errands for the campers.

With the rain pouring, we all were in the mood for some tea so I put on the kettle as soon as we got inside. While waiting for the tea we set up the TV to watch some shows while helping Daisy Jane package orders from her shop. Nothing like cozying up with a nice hot cup of tea on a cloudy rainy day!

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 5 years

Text

Godfathers-- Crowley x Aziraphale x Reader (part two)

Request; “Could I get a plantonic X Reader where the reader is pregnant (with a ex-boyfriend’s baby) and Aziraphale and Crowley are very protective of them and the reader unexpectly goes into labor at Azzy’s shop and Crowley attempts to drive everyone to to hospital. And I say attempt as Reader ends up giving birth in Crowley’s car due to traffic.” (anon)

Warnings; none! :)

Word Count; 2.4k

Notes; the wait is finally over! sorry it’s taken me so long to post lol ALSO sorry if it’s not very accurate? i don't know anything about pregnancy, I just know what google tells me lol

"Crowley, are you sure? I really don't want to be a bother," you mumbled. He scoffed and shook his head. He tucked one of the bags he was holding under his arm, allowing himself to better talk with his hand.

"You'll only be a bother if you trash the place. Or be nice to my plants." Crowley paused. He pointed at you before giving you a stern look. "Don't be nice to them. They don't deserve it." You snorted, assuming he was joking. He opened the door to his apartment and motioned you in. You followed him inside, marveling at the place. Everything was spic and span, totally immaculate.

"Beautiful place you've got," you complimented. The tiniest smile crossed Crowley's lips.

His apartment didn't obey the normal laws of physics. It was a bit like the Tardis. The inside made the outside look unbelievable. Crowley was able to change bits of it as he pleased. In this case, he was able to add on an extra bedroom just for you. He set the bags he was carrying on the foot of the bed, glancing around the room before nodding in approval. He always considered himself good at interior design, though he'd never tell anyone that. "A friend of mine is bringing some dinner by. I just ordered some takeout, hope you don't mind." When you shook your head, he continued, "Good. Now, the entire place is soundproofed, so you can vent... or scream... or cry... or whatever it is people do after a heartbreak."

"Thank you, Crowley. I really appreciate it." He nodded and sauntered out of the room, leaving you to unpack your belongings.

You were changing into some more comfortable clothes when you heard muffled voices from the other side of the bedroom door. The rational, mature part of your mind told you that it would be rude to eavesdrop, but the curious, monkey side of your brain kept chanting about how you should listen in. It's not difficult to understand which side won. You pressed your ear against the door, straining to catch some of their conversation.

"...doing is nice, Crowley."

"Oh, shut up."

"You know, if you could whip up a whole new room, you could have miricaled a couch. Or at least another chair or two." Your brows furrowed. Miracles?

"Well, I wasn't thinking about that, Aziraphale. I've never had someone else stay here before!"

"Lucky for you, I have an idea since it'd be too obvious to add any new furniture at this point... Bean bags!"

"No. Absolutely not. I will not allow those abominations in my flat." You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing. As much as you wanted to stay in hiding and hear where the conversation would go next, your stomach's demonstration of whale noises reminded you that that was not an option. You slowly pulled the door open, poking your head out and glancing around. Crowley had his back to you, but the newcomer caught sight of you from over Crowley's shoulder. He flashed you a bright smile. At the time, you didn't know him very well, but you recognized him from his occasional visits to Crowley's. His fluffy hair and out of date clothing choices made him hard to forget.

"Hello, my dear. It's wonderful to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances," Aziraphale hummed as he approached you. He pulled you into an embrace. Normally, you wouldn't want a person you hardly knew to touch you, but Aziraphale was like a ball of sunshine. He was incredibly comforting, something which you desperately needed at the moment. "Come along, let's get you something to eat before the food gets cold!"

The three of you divvied out the takeout. Crowley led you into what you assumed was his office slash living room, which hardly had any furniture in it at all. You and Aziraphale plopped onto two beanbags, and Crowley sprawled across a chair that looked more like a throne. He turned on the television, and Aziraphale raised a brow at him when Golden Girls came across the screen. "Again? My boy, how many times have you watched this series?" Crowley threw his arms up dramatically.

"It's not like I choose it every time! The TV has a mind of its own. And besides, it's a good show."

"You can't use that excuse for everything, Crowley. You're starting to turn into the boy who cried wolf." The red-head scoffed at the notion.

"Please, Aziraphale," he scoffed before turning to look at you, "What do you think about Golden Girls?"

"I've heard the name, but I've never actually seen it before." Crowley's eyebrows shot up as his posture went rigid.

"Never? Here I was, thinking you were a person of sensible taste. This must be fixed immediately." He pressed a button on the remote, flipping through the channels until he found one playing the very first episode. Aziraphale sighed and sank further into the bean bag chair. He shoveled the yellow rice into his mouth as Crowley animatedly explained to you the wonderful show that is Golden Girls.

At first, the plan was to stay at Crowley's until you were able to get back on your feet and find a place of your own. But with only a part-time job and a child on the way, you weren't sure how you were going to afford it. Aziraphale could sense your growing anxiety and suggested you stay with one of them until you felt ready to move out. You gladly accepted the invitation, having grown close to them since you first moved in. The three of you had spent many nights drinking non-alcoholic beverages and binging Golden Girls, and you always enjoyed popping into Aziraphale's bookshop. It took a lot of convincing, but you finally managed to get him to help you organize the mess of books that were piled around. The more time you spent around them, the more you realized that they weren't so human. I mean, they weren't exactly hiding it. It's a miracle more people didn't put it together.

Aziraphale thought it would be a good idea to check up on Adam. They couldn't just leave him completely alone, him being the anti-christ and all. So the three of you piled into the Bentley and made your way to Tadfield. You and your rather large belly took up a majority of the backseat. Traffic was terrible, as usual, but you made it through with the help of one of your favorite snacks at the moment-- a sauerkraut sandwich. Just two pieces of bread with sauerkraut in between. It grossed out Aziraphale and Crowley, but they knew better than to face the wrath of a pregnant person... especially after they saw how your emotions constantly changed. One moment you were crying over not being able to open a pickle jar by yourself, and the next you were screaming at your phone for charging too slow. Needless to say, they were afraid of being the target of your mood swings.

Crowley led the way through Hogback Wood, while you and Aziraphale walked arm-in-arm behind him. "Please be careful with our lunch, dear." The angel grimaced every time the wicker basket was swung.

"Calm down, Aziraphale. Nothings going to happen to the food," Crowley groaned, "Their hideout is right down here. They'll probably be playing with prop swords or whatnot." You could hear the group of children shouting. Sure enough, they came into view and were swinging long sticks at each other. A boy with brown, curly locked pointed his stick toward you all.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Sir Crowley Hellion, accompanied by Lord Aziraphale Inamorato. We brought along our guest, the kind (Y/F/N)." The demon and angel bowed, playing along with the game. You, on the other hand, were too hot and had too big of a belly to be doing such. Instead, you just waved at them. The rest of the group of children appeared, all eyeing the three of you suspiciously.

"What's in the basket?" a boy with dirt all over his face asked. Crowley held up the basket in question, raising a brow.

"Sandwiches."

"For all of us?"

"Yup."

"Did they make 'em?" He pointed his stick towards you. Aziraphale shook his head.

"No, I did." All of the children seemed relieved by this.

"Good. I heard pregnant people like to eat weird stuff on their sandwiches." They all gathered around Crowley as he handed one to each of them.

"You're telling me," he muttered under his breath. Which, thanks so your pregnant superhuman capabilities, didn't escape your hearing.

"Sorry, Crowley, what was that?" The demon froze like a deer caught in headlights. He stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with something clever and not insulting to say. You laughed and pat him on the shoulder. "Calm down! I'm just teasing. Now, hand me one of those sandwiches so I can go sit down. My back is killing me."

Everyone gathered near their fort and ate lunch. You were beginning to have stomach pains, but you blamed it on the sauerkraut combined with all the walking you did. The Them, as you learned they were called, explained the game they were playing. Adam was playing as Henry VIII, Brian and Wensleydale were guards, and Pepper was one of his many wives to be beheaded. The twist? She fought back, not wanting to come to her untimely end just because she was unable to bear a son. "So, what're you having?" Pepper asked.

"A girl," you answered fondly. Three of the Them smiled and congratulated you, but Adam leaned back and sighed.

"Sorry, guess that means you'll have to be beheaded." The children all started giggling, and Crowley snorted. You grimaced, putting a hand on your stomach. Aziraphale watched you worriedly. He placed a gentle hand on your arm.

"Are you alright?" Adam's brows knit together.

"I was just joking. We're not really beheading you." You waved him off.

"Don't worry about it, love. Just having a spell of contractions is all." Crowley leaned forward. Worry filled his features.

"Is the baby coming? Already? Should we leave?" You laughed before grimacing again.

"No, I don't think she's coming yet. I'm not due for another three weeks. But I think it probably is a good idea to head back."

The two helped you back to the Bentley, with the Them trailing behind out of curiosity. Thankfully, you didn't have to walk terribly far. Crowley had managed to park nearby just in case of a moment like this. You all piled into the car and waved the children goodbye. Crowley peeled out of Tadfield, causing Aziraphale to look even more concerned. As you got closer to London, the traffic worsened and so did your contractions. The three of you were sitting in a standstill, and you were groaning in pain in the backseat.

"You know, we've got car parks everywhere... McDonald's, supermarkets, stadiums... the fucking M25!" Crowley screeched, gripping the steering wheel and shaking himself back and forth.

"Crowley! Your screaming is not helping!" Aziraphale huffed.

"Could the both of you please shut up so I can focus on not imploding?" Concern settled deeper into Aziraphale's features, and a hiss escaped Crowley's lips.

"I think we're running out of time," the angel whispered. "We need a miracle." Crowley gave him a look, and Aziraphale nodded. The demon sighed, taking the angel's hand in his own. Reality seemed to warble around the Bentley, which caused you to feel even worse. You ended up hurling, and Crowley let out a string of swears at the sight. "Look! We're at the hospital. Let's get them taken care of before we worry about a perfectly cleanable mess, hm?"

"Fine, but you better be naming this kid after me for all I've been through!"

The two helped you inside to get taken care of, and they were with you for every step of the way. Several hours later, you held your daughter in your arms. She clutched onto Aziraphale's finger, causing him to smile wider than you had ever seen before. Crowley stood behind the angel, trying to look like he wasn't paying much attention and clearly failing. You offered to let him hold the baby, and he accepted without a moment of hesitation. As you watched him carefully cradle the little girl in his arms, you figured this would be the perfect moment to propose the idea you've been harboring for the past month. "I've been thinking about how much you guys have helped me. I don't know where I would be if it wasn't for you two. So, I was wondering if maybe the both of you would like to make our little family official by being the godfathers?" Aziraphale gasped, eyes widening. He excitedly looked to Crowley.

"Oh, my dear! Did you hear that? Us... godfathers!" Crowley didn't reply. He just froze for a moment. A tinge of worry went through you. You didn't even consider the possibility of him not wanting to be a godfather. You and Aziraphale shared a look before continuing to stare at Crowley.

"Ngk," he sniffled, "don't look at me. Here, angel, take the kid." Crowley passed the baby off to Aziraphale before furiously rubbing his eyes. You sat up a little more.

"Are you... crying!"

"No!" he said with a defensive hiss. "Okay, maybe I am... just a little... You seriously want me to be a godfather? I can understand him. He's a literal angel, but I'm a demon why would you want me?" You sighed, leaning back into the pillows.

"Crowley, you were the one who was there for me when I needed someone, and you were the one who took me in when I had nowhere to go. Of course, I want you to be my daughter's godfather. I couldn't think of anyone else."

The demon sniffled for a few more minutes before finally composing himself. He watched the infant be placed in the bassinette and smiled. A true, genuine smile. Crowley gently touched the baby's cheek, leaning closer. "Don't worry. I'll try to be a good godfather. If it's the last thing I do, I'll make sure you have a good life, okay?"

~*~*~

Godfathers Tag List; (might be missing some, there was a lot of you lmao)

@justcallmecinammon

@sdavid09

@lokis-sunshine

@spookyconsultingcriminal

@dabbingintoart

@sirkekselord

@strangerthings14

Good Omens Tag List;

@kawaiiusagichansan

@fatbottomedboi

@godhateskyleigh

@drhughgrection

@popbubblegumpop

@shirukitsune

@slithredn

@dabbingintoart

@groupies-do-it-better

Permanent Tag List;

@blitchen

@blitchen-fics

#good omens #ineffable godfathers #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #good omens crowley #good omens crowley x reader #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #David Tennant #david tennant x reader #michael sheen #michael sheen x reader

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feminist-propaganda · 3 years

Text

Single Mothers Will Probably Cry During Every Episode Of Queen’s Gambit - Episode 4

In the past three days we’ve reviewed the three lessons from Beth’s mother. The first lesson was for Beth to find a field where she could become a worldwide expert in. The second lesson was to use dissociation as a coping mechanism when the going gets tough. The third lesson was to know the enemy within yourself.

The series contains 7 episodes; and the fourth episode is therefore named “Middle Game”, which according to Wikipedia:

"is the portion of the game in between the opening and the endgame, though there is no clear line between the opening and middlegame, and between the middlegame and endgame. The middle game begins when both players have completed the development of all or most of their pieces and the king has been brought to relative safety. However, at master level, the opening analysis may go well into the middlegame.”

Lesson 4 : Don’t Block Me Out

The episode starts on the university campus where we see a young Beth learning Russian. We learned in the previous episode that she was planning to learn Russian in order to prepare for International Tournaments where she would be playing Soviet players: the best in the world.

The words she repeats after the professor are “I love”, “You love” and “We love”. As she repeats these words, her gaze wanders around the classroom and lands on a blonde haired student, who stares right back at her. At the end of the class, he meets her outside the building and asks her if she wants to come over to his place for a kick back. She accepts.

It is the 60s, and you can tell. The student house is decorated with Middle Eastern, maybe Indian tapestries. The students smoke weed and listen to tantric music. Beth makes a call to Alma to let her know she won’t be coming home. Soon, she is seen having mediocre sex with the blonde college student. Beth seems completely dissociated with the entire situation.

Her conversation with the blond man is somewhat revealing however. He asks her if she’s the chess player. She says yes. She asks if he plays. “No, too cerebral. I’ve played a lot of Monopoly though”. Beth answers: “Never played that game”, and the blonde responds “Don’t, it makes you a slave to capitalism. I still dream about making money though”.

Beth frowns “Why are you taking Russian classes if you’re a slave to capitalism?” and the blonde : “Mmm. I wanna read Dostoevsky in the original”.

The next day, for the first time ever, we see Beth get completely hammered. When she wakes up, everyone is gone. She is alone in the apartment. She finds a note on the fridge, with a joint taped to it. It says the gang has rode off to Cincinnati to catch a movie and she can stay all she wants.

She starts by cleaning up the apartment and we are reminded of Alma in Episode 2. She pushes the vaccuum cleaner with a cigarette in her hand, dusts the apartment as she empties the wine bottles. She calls Alma again, tells her she won’t be coming home tonight either.

Then, we see Beth graduate. Alma whistles and screams with pride as Beth collects her degree. They drink celibratory champagne and Alma gifts Beth a beautiful watch which is engraved “LOVE FROM MOTHER”.

They fly off to Mexico, where for the first time Bet will be playing the infamous Soviet players.

Mexico plays an important character in this mini series because it is a part of the third world.

The term Third World was born during the Cold War. The “First World” was any country that was affiliated with N.A.T.O. The “Second World” were countries in the Soviet Union or under Soviet influence. Anything else was called the Third World according to this model.

Many people today who don’t know the origin of this term might think the term Third World is derogative, it isn’t. It just means a country that refused to fall into the Cold war dynamics.

When you take a look back at the series, you see that it shows us the journey of a small girl from Kentucky (poorest state in the U.S.A), to Moscow. One could argue that the Soviet Union is a much better environment for Beth.

The Soviet Union is the place where International Women’s day was proclaimed a National holiday as early as 1917! Women in science thrived in the Soviet Union, one article by the Smithsonian magazine even argues that the Soviet Union was better at training women in Science than the U.S.A does today.

So if the series is indeed about a young woman’s journey from a sexist, capitalist society (The U.S.A) to an equalitarian republic (the U.S.S.R), it seems natural that right in the middle of this journey, Beth needs to travel through some neutral territory, some sort of purgatory, a.k.a. Mexico a.k.a the Third World.

On the plane to Mexico, Alma informs Beth that she will be meeting with a man at the airport. An old pen pal whom she’s always kept in touch with. His name is Manuel.

In the car driving from the airport to the hotel, Beth witnesses as Manuel puts on his seductive act to impress Alma. He comes up with platitudes about the history of Mexico City, and Alma makes exagerated onomatopeas. This whole time, in the back, Beth rolls her eyes.

We are reminded of the first scene, and her attitude towards the blonde college student. She is mostly unimpressed, dissociated, almost bored. It’s as if Beth knows about men and their deceptive ways. It’s strange because she’s just a teenager but she seems painfully aware of the realities of womanhood.

Throughout the episode, we see Beth studying for her games with the Soviets while Alma goes on dates with Manuel around the city. This isn’t the same Alma we’ve gotten used to in Episodes 2 and 3. She doesn’t seem to be present for Alma, like she was in Las Vegas. She seems completely absorbed in this intense romance. Alma even almost calls Beth frigid : “You’ve had all of your meals in your room!” “You’re buried in your books!”.

She also offers some advice. She seems to say that Beth’s forte is her intuition. She thinks Beth should relax a bit. She ends up convincing Beth that she should go for a walk. She goes to the zoo where she sees the Soviet player she fears, Borgov, with his family. They exchange meaningful looks.

For the first time, she sees the Soviets. And the view she has seems to be a “mise en abime” of the concept of Freedom. Indeed, Borgov is with his family, and they gaze at the chimpanzees in the zoo. Allow me to be more accurate. Borgov’s wife talks to her son and shows him the chimpanzees. Borgov is standing behind them. Silent. And behind him, there are the two KGB agents that look at him. So there are 5 planes : the chimpanzees, Borgov’s wife and child, Borgov himself, the KGB agents and then finally Beth.

Let’s analyze this scene shall we. We saw in episodes 1, 2 and 3 that the American men Beth met seemed to hate wedlock, and looked for opportunities to exit it as soon as possible. Mr Wheatley was of course the prime example of this. Here, we see a man, of about Mr Wheatley’s age, who stands near his wife, and his offspring. He isn’t running away from them. He doesn’t seem to detest them. The KGB agents are here to watch over him, but there is no sign that he wants to exit the U.S.S.R. Why would he? He gets paid to play chess, he is a national hero. He seems relaxed, at ease. He isn’t dissociated, he isn’t evil to his wife. What Beth sees is that maybe, this Russian archetype of a man is more attractive to her than the American version (Mr Wheatley detested her and Alma) or even the Mexican version (Manuel seems to be a phony latin lover at best).

This scene happens right at the middle of the episode, which is right at the middle of the series. It reminds me of Kant’s meditations on Freedom.

Kant says that Freedom isn’t the absence of constraint, it is the choice of your own constraints. If we apply this reasoning to lifelong partnerships, which are by definition filled with constraints, than Freedom wouldn’t be the absence of such a partnership but rather the concious choice of taking part in a partnership and accepting the constraints that come along with it. In this scene at the zoo, who is free? According to Kant’s theory: Beth is certainly not free. She binge drinked a bunch of beers in the park and is now completely hammered. She is a slave to the substances she abuses. The chimpanzee isn’t free, he is in a cage but also he can’t reason, so he can’t choose his constraints, like a human can. Are the Soviets free? Did Borgov choose his constraints? Is it a choice for him, to be here in Mexico City, to play chess, to be watched by KGB agents? To be married to his wife? To spend time with his family at the zoo? He has constraints, yes, but he doesn’t seem to be unhappy. He isn’t acting compulsively like Beth. He seems to be in control of his destiny. He probably didn’t have to bring his wife and kid along with him to Mexico. He could’ve come alone. But he took them. And he probably didn’t have to come to the Zoo with them. But he did. And he seems present. Although he is calm and collected, he is present. So it appears that Borgov is free. Yes he has constraints (the KGB watching over him, a family life) but he’s chosen them and this makes him free.

Shortly after Beth sees Borgov at the zoo with his family, she meets Alma who informs her that Manuel, much like Mr Wheatley, has disapeared on a “business trip” to Oaxaca. Alma says “I’ve never been to Oaxaca, but I imagine it resembles Denver”. What she means is she understands that these men (Mr Wheatley and Manuel) are too coward to tell her the truth (they don’t want to be with her) and they use their professional activites (the infamous business trip) as an excuse to disapear.

We circle back to March the 8, which was originally proclaimed the International day for Working Women in the U.S.S.R. See, Women’s labour outside of the house is essential to Women’s emancipation, because as long as Women don’t make their own money, their interactions with Men will be doomed to a foregone conclusion. Men get bored. Men use their professional activities as an excuse to disapear and as a reason to be unpleasant, even sometimes authoritarian or abusive towards Women.

Remember Alice’s first lesson: master a technology, find your field of expertise, become a professional.

The relationship between Borgov and his wife seems so much more tranquil than the passionate, fake, doomed romances from the First World and the Third.

Beth’s only other interaction with Borgov before playing him on Table 1 is in the elevator. He is talking to his advisors, they tell him “In Moscow she’ll be jet lagged” “Her game is only attack” and other statements about Beth’s weaknesses. But Borgov says “She’s an orphan. She’s like us. Losing isn’t an option for her. Otherwise what would her life be?” then he looks back at her.

Before playing him, she asks her friend “Will you save a seat for my mother?”. But Alma never shows up.

Borgov plays White, and choses an opening which he knows Beth will respond to with the Sicilian defense. Then he chooses to play it closed. He keeps his cool, shows no weakness and plays textbook chess. No emotion. As he stays steady, Beth glances at the empty chair where Alma is not sitting, she didn’t show up. And this destabilizes her. She gets more and more emotional and loses.

When she comes back to the hotel room she finds Alma has died. Beth organizes the funeral, calls Mr Wheatley and gets in touch with his lawyer.

So what was the lesson from Alice?

All through the episode, Alice is completely absent. Beth returns to her childhood memories, but it’s only with the chess teacher in the orphanage’s basement, and he tells her she’s angry. He tells her her gift will come at a price.

I spoke about Dissociation in Episode 2, but Episode 4 isn’t about that. It’s about Denial, which is a stage in the process of grief.

The last scene from Episode 4, we see Beth in the airplane, drinking a Martini and pretending to toast Alma’s ghost. She is in Denial of Alma’s death. During the episode, she is also in Denial of her own status as an Orphan. Instead of owning her orphanhood, she denies it. After Borgov calls her an orphan in the elevator, she asks for Alma to be seated at the match. She wants to show Borgov she isn’t an orphan, that someone came to pick her up at the orphanage and adopt her. It’s true, Alma adopted her. But that doesn’t undo the past. That doesn’t mean that Alice didn’t run the car into a truck and kill herself. And told Beth to close her eyes.

Dissociation was useful to Beth; it helped her beat Beltik and cope with Mr Wheatley’s disapearance. But Denial pushes her to drink, makes her angry and more importantly : stands in the way of her winning against the Soviets.

In 1976, Bruno Bettelheim published The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales. In this book he analyzes fairy tales and their symbolic meanings. Towards the end, he explains that for young women, the last step before integrating their personalities and becoming succesful, balanced adults is to identify with their mothers. As long as Beth blocks out Alice, she can’t win.

It’s difficult for young women to identify with their mothers when they’re single moms. Single motherhood is the pentacle of failure, it is the worst status a woman can have, worst than being a spinster. So for a young woman raised by a single mother it can be incredibly difficult to integrate their personalites and become balanced adults, because they are stuck in the anger and shame and other negative emotions they harbour towards their mothers.

However difficult it may be, Beth has to find a way to identify with her mother, to see herself in her.

#feminism #the queen's gambit #single mom

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peeterparkr · 5 years

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For the sleepover i hope it’s ok to request a blurb where tom takes care of his sick s/o cuz that’s what i need rn (i’ve got a stuffy nose, my left ear hurts and i want to cry but hey i have holidays rn) -🥺 anon

this made me soft :)

Tom was coming home, you had prepared everything, candles, music, dinner. You even had placed petals leading from the leaving room to your room. After being away from a while, either filming, press tour, conventions, or whatever that had caught him up for that month, he was finally coming back to you.

You had missed him, especially now that the weather was turning colder. You know how it can be to be alone curled up binge-watching yet another series on netflix when he was away. This time it had been American Vandal, for some strange reason a mockumentary about drawn dicks had caught your attention. This was because the series you watched with Tom could never be watched unless it was with him, not matter how much you wanted to know if Jane was going to go with Rafael or Michael in Jane the Virgin.

You hadn’t been feeling well, lately. With the poor excuse that you had gone without a jacket to the cold weather. Winter was coming, which reminded you to finally catch up with Game of Thrones, and it was clearly showing. You had already unpacked all of your jackets, but when the sun came out on one of those days, you had decided to skip a jacket, a stupid decision, which you’d later regret.

Which brings us to now, with the terrible and incessant sneezing you were facing at the airport as you were waiting for him. Your nose was red, and you were almost sure you had a fever. You looked, honestly, terrible. But you felt your entire body heal as soon as you saw him, sweatpants and big hoodie.

You ran your way over to him, who received you with a big hug.

“Oh my god, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” said Tom, placing kisses on your cheek.

Of course, your stupid decision decided to cock-block you because as you were about to kiss him, your throat thought it’d be a great time to cough.

“Are you okay, darling?” He asked with concern and a smile.

“Yes, yes, find, I’ve just… bissed you so buch,” you managed to say.

“Darling, when someone adds a ‘d’ to fine, then they’re not fine,” he laughed.

“No, but I’m… find…. find…fin….d,” you continued.

“C’mon, let’s get you all warm up, and I’ll take care of you, alright?”

You drove all the way back home, and the moment you stepped in, you revealed the whole romantic scene you had prepared for him.

“I’ll..just dight up the candles and we cand get started,” you said mischievously as you kissed his neck, but another sneeze was coming so you pushed him off. “Sorry–uh, let’s.”

“Princess, you’re sick.” He laughed.

“I’mb dot.”

“It’s alright, look, I’ll get some tea, I’ll get a bowl of hot soup and we’ll take care of you, alright?”

“But…” You looked down. “I’mb sorry, I had planned out alld of this for you, you’ve beend away for a while and I… and-”

“Darling,” he walked over to you. “This is perfect, I just want to be with you tonight, alright? we’ll use the candles another day, okay?” He kissed your forehead. “Mmm… you have a fever…” He clicked his tongue. “Right now I just want to take care of my princess, how does that sound? Go and change into your pj’s… No, here,” he took off his hoodie and gave it to you. “You can use this, alright? Get comfortable and I’ll join you in a bit.”

You smiled nodding, as you put your pj’s, only to later be joined by Tom who had made you tea and brought you tissues along with some Tylenol. He snuggled close to you, throwing a blanket over both of you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as you hugged him.

“Don’t be, you’re giving me the chance to take care of my princess,” he kissed on top of your head. “Besides, we need to catch up on Jane the Virgin.”

“I dove you,” you managed to say before a sneeze.

“I dove you too, my dittle sick girl.” He kissed your cheek.

sleepover

#blurb night #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland x y/n #tom holland one shot #tom holland writing #tom holland angst #tom holland smut

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nyxi-styx · 5 years

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On Character Development

Let me preface this by saying that I started watching Supernatural somewhat casually in 2012, but binging in 2014. (The first episode I ever saw was actually a rerun of ‘A Very Supernatural Christmas’ back in 2008/09-ish.) I diligently watched EVERY episode, catching up online or on the app when I didn’t have cable. I stopped watching season 12 a few episodes in because I hated it. I watched some of the beginning of season 13 and it was “okay”, watched Scoobynatural because I’ve loved Scooby-Doo for as long as I can remember (my bedroom in 2nd grade when I was living with my grandma was entirely scooby-doo themed), and watched Gabriel’s episodes because... he’s my fave. I got tired of the repetitive storylines and recycled lore. I got tired of their mistreatment of characters. I am still tired of these things. And I’m tired of the constant fandom drama. I tried to leave, to get out, to stop caring. But I still care about the characters, the cast, my ships... Destiel and writing content for it has been a big part of my freetime for the past 4-5 years. It’s hard to walk away from something that has made you feel so many things so intensely. I started out as a Dean girl (still am) and Samcurious (Still am). Then I was a Cas girl, a Crowley girl, fuck- even a Kevin girl, before ultimately settling on Gabriel. When information about the end of season 14 came out, I was surprised at the route they’d chosen to go, amused, and- as a Rob Benedict fan- kind of excited. I was (and still am) ready for the absolute SHIT SHOW I know season 15 is going to be. It’s either going to be bad in the way that bad horror movies exist and you watch them because they’re so terrible but they’re fun. Or it’s going to be bad and no one is going to have a good time. It’s going to be emotional in the time leading up to the airing of it all anyway. There’s going to come “Last day filming with [actor]” posts, “Last day in the Impala“ posts, “Last day in the bunker” posts, and saddest of all “Last day as Dean/Sam/Castiel” posts. It’s going to be painful. But I’m ready and willing. I can’t wait to see what they do next. Anyway...

I tried to watch JUST the season 14 finale. But I barely made it five minutes before I had to turn it off. Not because it was bad, but because the recap, “Carry On Wayward Son”, and J2′s acting abilities and the EMOTIONS they portray... dragged me right back in. I knew I had to catch up. Against my better judgement. “Fuck.”

So, once I finished catching up on “Slasher” (great Netflix series, highly recommend), I started catching up on anything I hadn’t seen of season 13 and rewatching Gabriel’s episodes. (Did I mention he’s my fave?) I’m now 10 episodes into season 14.

Now, the show isn’t without its faults still. Honestly, so many things could be solved if Sam and Dean would stop letting monsters monologue. Shoot first, ask questions later. But... then we lose all the drama, right? Still more things could be solved if Sam and Dean would talk to each other openly and honestly but hey. BMs, right? Bro moments? Broments?

First of all, no one will EVER be able to touch Mark Pellegrino’s performance as Lucifer. He makes me feel everything: From “Lucifer is annoying and I goddamn love him; he’s so funny.” to “Jesus fucking christ just KILL HIM WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE!!! STAB LUCIFER! LET HIM DIE!!” and everything in between. He almost got me to sympathize with him. Yikes.

Secondly, the range of Misha fucking Collins and his multiple portrayals of different versions of Castiel (and Jimmy) will never stop blowing me away. He’s gone from Angel of the Lord and High Holy Tax Accountant and you WILL show him some damn respect!... to sassy as fuck (honestly I live for him sassing Lucifer while they were locked up in hell) and not willing to take shit from anyone except Sam and Dean. And that’s growth, man. He’s just... I don’t have the ability to put all of my thoughts and emotions into words, so please settle for a simple “UGHGHGHGHHHHHHHH” followed by a keysmash like so: aslkfla;sknfkasdjfnwqrjqejrfna Sam, Dean, and Cas are all REALLY GOOD DADS to JACK??????????? Like I expected it from Cas since it’s his duty because he promised Kelly and all, and I kinda expected it from Dean once he came around because he’d be the dad he wished he’d had, but I wasn’t quite expecting it from Sam??? But Sam is REALLY good??????

Sam has changed a lot too, overtime, and I don’t know how to describe it, exactly, but whatever it is... while I have always recognized Jared as a handsome man- sure, even hot or sexy at times- I never was SUPER into him... I’m more attracted to Sam now than I have ever been in the past and it’s something in his personality that has shifted that I can’t quite put my finger on. But attraction aside, it’s so GOOD to see these characters actually grow, change, and develop despite the fact that the show seems to have forgotten how to do that.

Now, at first, when I heard about Dean accepting warzone!Michael and being his vessel, I was angry. “Fuck that. That’s out of character. Dean would NEVER!” But... upon seeing it happen... okay, I get it. It was super in character. And it was awesome to see Jensen play something vastly different (and kinda hot) and do so very fucking well. The pain and fear on his face when he realizes what he has to do... Well fucking done Jensen!!! And the raw fear and pain on Castiel’s face as he waits alone... Well fucking done, Misha!!!

What I hadn’t noticed in my first watch-through of “Exodus” (I think)- and it’s probably because I was angry and turned it off- was that Dean said “Gabe sacrificed himself for us. We owe him everything.” First of all, I love the canonization of calling Gabriel “Gabe”. 12/10 Secondly, this is not the attitude I would ever have expected Dean to have about Gabriel. Not when you consider their history. And Jensen’s delivery of that really hurt. Additionally, when Gabriel is recounting his time hiding out in Monte Carlo to Sam and Dean, and Sam gets annoyed and cuts him off, Dean looks like he’s actually enjoying the story. He even turns to look at Sam with an expression I can only describe as “excuse you. the man lived my fantasy life and i’m living vicariously. rude.” The fact that Dean wasn’t always curt or hostile towards Gabriel is not at all what I expected and it’s honestly good to see that kind of growth. Dean and Gabriel aren’t really super different, after all. Furthermore, what I didn’t notice through BOTH times I watched Gabriel’s s13 episodes and what was featured in the recap preceding 14x01... Dean shouted “Gabe! No!” when Gabriel was killed by Michael. I didn’t notice this before and I legitimately had to pause the recap because it pained me. It genuinely brought me to tears. Again: GROWTH. Like... Dean actually cared about Gabriel. And that was something I never expected but oh my god.

I love finding things out about the characters we didn’t know before. So we all knew that Dean likes junk food, is a big nerd, loves Scooby-Doo, and loves classic rock music (and is a disaster bi) but I LOVED finding out that he loves horror movies and uses them as an escape. (Jesus, Dean and I are almost the same person except I’m pan). Gabriel’s entire backstory is another thing I loved finding out. Juicy tidbits are the best tidbits. But Gabriel’s character development is another whole post on its own.

Sam taking control and commanding forces out of the bunker is another personal favorite. As was Sam’s interactions with Lucifer and Rowena.

I don’t know. I’m starting to ramble because all of this is just bringing up more thoughts and I’m getting disorganized and derailed. It’s too long of a post as it is so I’ll just end it.

I’m just really glad to see the characters growing and developing in a show that’s just a dead cash cow that they won’t quit beating enough to take risks and make changes.

Oh god, the Wayward Sisters episode was its own hot pot of character development and a masterpiece, but again... another post of it’s own.

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 7 years

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Andrew Garfield x Female Reader: One (Forty-Fucking-Three, Part 4)

A/N: Dear reader, we have finally made it. Here comes the forth and the last part of this series, which I can only hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. Thank you for having plunged headfirst into this difficult relationship with Andrew Garfield - I know I didn’t make it look like a walk in the part, but you are reading this, which means you still stayed. So basically, you slay. I do hope you’ll like it, bee’s knees xx Warnings: Hideous English, swearing, angst (I probably have some emotional issue - angst is like my specialty lol). Other than that, none.

New to the series? Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 Bonus:

Raindrops felt like blunt needles, landing on your cheeks and forehead, leaving their cool imprints on your skin. As your hands gripped its wet and slippery doorknob, you swung the door to your favorite café open, a completely random thought crossing your mind: you haven’t seen the skies weep like that since that life-changing night… Two weeks ago.

The café greeted you with a wave of warm air, the smell of coffee hitting your nostrils. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes, so lost in the moment you almost failed to acknowledge your ringing cell, screaming for your attention. Making your way to the beaming barista at the counter, you took out the convulsing device, briefly checking out the name on the display before taking the call, unable to suppress a small grin.

The café was deserted – the rainstorm outside was so violent, even hardened by the ongoing battle with the nature Londoners made sure to stay at home. Polished wooden tables gleamed softly in the light of the pendant lamps, Hozier’s voice tuning the sound of the wind out completely. Entering the café felt like setting foot in another universe, and this was what you loved most about the place.

Looking around and taking your surroundings in with a feeling of peacefulness settling in your chest, you brought the phone to your ear, still smiling at the barista, an acquaintance of yours.

“To what do I own the pleasure?” you smirked, mouthing cinnamon latte to the boy in front of the cashier desk, throwing two fingers of your free hand in the air. He took the largest carton cup, looking at your questioningly. You nodded negatively, pressing the phone with your ear to your shoulder and producing two tumblers from your leather backpack. Smiling, you handed him both. He took them, winking at you. “Are you that bored of white sand and turquoise sea?”

You heard Brittnee chuckle on the other end of the line, imagining her sitting on a beach wearing nothing but a white bikini and a huge hat, sipping on her Cosmopolitan.

“I thought you’ve met the guy I’m dating. He doesn’t do boring. His ass is always on the move,” she said, delight nonetheless jingling in her voice. “Yes, I’m talking about you”, she added, throwing a challenging glare her torturer’s way, no doubt. “Hey!” you heard a splashing sound before Britt’s outburst of irritation deafened you. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to keep the laughter at bay, your eyes focused on the coffee barista was currently preparing for you.

“How is London treating you?” Britt sighed, most likely falling back into her chair after a failed attempt at revenge. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come, it’s just when Seabass really wants something, he can be very persuasive”.

“You love me!” you heard Sebastian Stan’s voice echo in the background, followed by yet another splash. You snorted with laugher, brushing your fingers through the damp strands of your hair absentmindedly.

“I can see that,” you half-smirked, leaning against the counter on your elbows. “If that’s going to make you sleep better at night, you aren’t missing much. Just really bad weather, great coffee…” the barista looked up at you, smiling gratefully, “…and a Harry Potter Movie Marathon”.

Brittnee laughed heartily, the sound of it extremely contagious.

“So that’s what you have been doing instead of reading your script? Watching Daniel Radcliffe refusing to kick the bucket for two weeks straight?”

You feigned a scandalized expression, your eyes growing wide.

“Excuse me,” you spoke slowly, your voice dripping with hurt dignity. “I’ve learned all my lines ages ago. Believe it or not, I’d be glad to go back to work again, but Tony couldn’t seem to settle that actor problem… Until yesterday,” the barista put two steaming lattes on the counter in front of you and you gave him a thankful look. “He called me last night saying we’re starting on Monday. So let me binge on Harry Potter in peace”.

You heard your friend snicker as you searched the pockets of your leather jacket for money.

“Can I get two sugars for each please? Thank you,” you spoke to the barista, your voice drowning out half of Brittnee’s reply.

“…got him to watch it with you,” was all you caught, handing the smiling guy a ten. Motioning for him to keep the change, you snapped thick plastic lids over the tumblers and wrapped your fingers around their boiling hot steel, carefully lifting them up.

“You’d be surprised,” you spoke after having restored Britt’s speech in your head, flinching at the burning sensation, growing in your fingertips. “I keep telling him he could play the younger edgy version of that marauder… What’s his name again…” you put the coffees back on the table, taking a minute to bring out your flannel shirt from under the sleeves of your jacket, so it covered your entire hands. With your skin now protected by the soft fabric, you confidently grabbed the tumblers from the counter and stuffed them in your small backpack.

“How did he take that?” Brittnee was obviously having too much fun, imagining you saying shit like that to him. You couldn’t help but smirk, recalling that priceless expression of utter puzzlement on his face.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that if I say it one more time, he’s going to throw his head back and howl at the moon”.

You thought Britt would split her sides laughing this time, as you made your way to the exit. The thought of trading the warm and cosy café for shrieking wind and piercing rain would seem outrageous if your insides didn’t perform all sorts of flips once you remembered what wrapping your hands around his torso felt like when riding his Harley Davidson.

“How is it going between the two of you?” Brittnee’s voice grew serious all of the sudden, the notes of familiar teasing all gone now. “Maybe it’s time you stopped keeping your distance? I know I have no business poking my nose into your guys relationship, but, Y/N, you deserve to be happy… Why don’t you let him in?”

You couldn’t help but frown at her words, as your stomach churned, your gaze fixed on the falling streams of rain behind the glass doors of the café. Last time, you were moving too fast. Jumping head first into the fire, your emotions taking complete control. This time, it needed to be different.

“Honestly, Britt, taking it slow seems like the best option”, you finally said, your voice a little too thin. “I need time to figure a shitload of things out, and he knows it. We’re friends, and it does the trick. For now,” your eyes focused on the black, shiny motorcycle parked by the edge of the road, its owner squatting by the front wheel, probably checking if some mechanism worked properly. His helmet hid his thick mane of hair and deep brown, bottomless eyes.

“You can’t play it safe for long, Y/N,” Britt’s voice seemed to merge with the one that rang in your head every minute of every day. “You’re going to have to take that jump one day, probably sooner than later”.

You blinked twice, fighting the sudden sensation of emptiness in your bones, an omen of something big and probably terrible. Raking one of your hands through your hair, you bit your lower lip nervously. You didn’t like this gut feeling. You didn’t like it one bit.

Brittnee kept talking, but you missed every word she said when barista called your name.

Sugar. You must have forgotten your sachets of sugar on the counter.

You turned on your heels abruptly, ready to go and fetch them… When your body collided with someone else’s, the hit catching you completely off guard. You gasped, ready to land on your ass, when two strong, rough hands grabbed your waist, keeping you steady.

Brain freeze. Your heartbeats echoing within the walls of the deserted café. His eyes watching you in that straightforward, wholehearted way as if saying I was worried sick, baby, where have you been. Everyone hopes someone someday will look at them this way.

“Andrew,” you said, like it was the most natural thing to utter after having slept with the guy and then having left him, naked, all alone on the floor.

It has been two weeks.

Looking at Garfield now, you could swear it might have been ages, the lines on his forehead so much more prominent, that careless sweet smile not living on his lips anymore.

“Andrew?” you heard Brittnee raise her voice at the mention of his name. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

Britt’s sobering voice seemed to shake you awake. Paralyzing stupor still reigned over your body, but at least your mind was clearing up.

He didn’t change… And why would he? It has only been two weeks…

Staring at him openly, still shocked, you realized you were wrong. He did change. Something in him did. It was more than these obvious signs of lack of sleep and what was it… Stress maybe? You didn’t know.

It was in the way he looked at you, like a man tired of fighting, who fell on his knees to beg for forgiveness, waving the white flag. At the same time, there were sparks in his eyes, one of that long list of reasons you couldn’t stay away from him in the first place…

You were a mess, gazing at him open-mouthed, searching for God knows what in his features, while he stared back at you like he had finally found exactly what he was looking for.

“Britt, I…” you spoke, not taking your eyes off him. “I’m going to have to call you back…” not hearing what she was saying, you dropped the call, unblinking, the world around Andrew and you going mute.

Everything about Andrew Garfield was daring you to fall in love with him again.

And you were holding on to dear life in order not to lose that dare.

“What are you doing here?” your voice was cold enough to chill Garfield’s bones, as you finally managed to speak again.

He bit his lower lip slowly, studying your face, his eyes sliding down your neck, your shoulders, your chest… It was like he tried to swallow you in, a junkie, who finally got a hold of what he craved most.

“I’m in London for work”, he answered vaguely, his voice pulling at the strings of your bloody heart, as it sang in your chest like a damn violin.

When you lay awake at night these two past weeks you kept imagining what your encounter would be like… Five, maybe ten years from now. The look on his face when he would realize that the woman who once may have cared too much for him, no longer cared about him at all.

It has been two weeks.

This hadn’t been the case yet. You weren’t ready.

“For work”, you repeated, urging him to develop. You aren’t supposed to be here, you almost screamed, panic overflowing your confused mind. You checked three hundred times, he was supposed to be in America, filming with Nicole Kidman or something…

“Yeah, I’m…” you suddenly realized Andrew was lost for words. And his hands, his bloody hands were still on your waist, apparently lost, too. “I’ve decided to do theater”.

Your heart stopped dead, and its lack of movement caused your chest to shudder in pain. Trying to keep your voice leveled, you pretended like you didn’t know what it was all about, but in truth, you did. You just couldn’t believe it.

“That’s… great, Andrew”, stop saying his name, “Where are you going to be at?”

Every word you said came out wrong. You looked at his face and all you saw were your naked bodies, entangled together, his lips sliding down your chest…

It was getting harder to breathe.

“Where you are,” he answered simply, his honesty slapping you across the face. You popped your eyes at him the minute these words escaped his bitten lips, his eyes caressing your face…

“I’m going to play Prior Walter in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America.”

You no longer felt anything. Just stared at him, uncomprehending, your entire being void. After everything he’d put you through, after you made sure to disappear from his life forever… He point blank refused to let you go in peace.

“What?…” your voice sounded like it came from someone else. Every second of this talk felt like a shitty planned out dialogue that was never supposed to take place in the real life. Your throat starting to tighten, you stared at him with your eyes wide and crazy, the fury inside of you making your skin crawl. “You’re shitting me, right? What is all of this?”

Taken aback at your reaction, Andrew bit the inside of his cheek. All you wanted to do was scream and break things.

“Didn’t I make my intentions clear enough?” you realized you were on the verge of shouting, losing all sense of self-control there was left in you. “I don’t fucking want you in my life, I don’t want you around, I don’t want you…” as you tried to push him away, as far as your strength would allow you, he grabbed your shoulders, leaning in closer.

“Y/N, listen to me!” his brown eyes were all you could see, “I was wrong, I need you, I need you more than anything, just…”

“You need me!” you almost yelped, breaking free of his hold. “How fucking dare you, Garfield!” you spit your words in his face. “Two weeks ago, you looked me in the eyes and you told me you loved another woman more than you loved me! This is insanity!” you scratched your nails on your head, looking at him, your eyes wild.

“Please, Y/N, let’s just talk,” Andrew’s eyes grew red as he tried to take your hands. You stepped back, like a wounded animal. “Everything’s changed, after…”

“After we fucked,” you finished for him, almost smiling, your voice poison. “So that’s all it took for you to come crawling on your knees. Jesus,” you crossed your hands on your chest, biting your lips and staring at him in disbelief. “For the love of God, Andrew,” you exhaled noisily, trying to get your shit together. “There’s a reason for why I didn’t stay. I moved on. It’s time you did too.”

You turned around, dead set on leaving him where he stood, ending the conversation and this entire story, this insane drama that was never supposed to take place…

“Fifty-three,” you heard him say behind your back. These words came out like a last attempt at a cry for help. Like they were his joker, the last card he had left to play. You froze in place, looking over your shoulder.

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrows at him, genuinely trying to understand what the hell he was talking about.

“Fifty-three,” he repeated again, like it was supposed to make all the sense in the world. His hands buried deeply in his pockets, he made a step towards you, bitter and desperate smile twisting his lips. “That’s the number of messages I left on your phone. You would know that if only you hadn’t changed your number after that night. I kept calling, again and again, thinking I was going insane, the recording of your voice bleeding me dry.”

You felt your face go white, as all the blood had rushed down to your heart, nearly making it explode. Your vision went blurry, but you couldn’t tell why…

“Sixteen”, in the meantime, Andrew continued, mercilessly. “That’s the number of times I saw you around Paris last week, reading in that British Library, grabbing a lunch with your friends, running down the street all wet from the rain… I saw you sixteen times, Y/N, and I just couldn’t bring myself to come up and talk to you…”

“Have you been following me?” your trembling lips barely moved, as you stared at him, unblinking.

“That’s the only way I could still be close to you”, he nodded, looking down. “I haven’t finished though”, you shut your eyes, as if shielding yourself from seeing him. Yet you still heard him, his voice resonating in your ears.

“One”, it sounded like the final note of the heartbreaking symphony, which was destined to end at some point. You opened your eyes slowly, your damp eyelashes fluttering. He was very close now, if you stretched your hand, it would land squarely in the middle of his chest. He still smelled like that minty aftershave and salted caramel… and rum. Maybe vanilla…

“Want to take a wild guess what this number represents?” he asked you softly, his gaze unwavering. A second more and he was going to cup your face in those rough hands, and bring you closer, his lips making you forget you’d ever left… “I thought so,” he said, when you didn’t answer. “That’s you, Y/N. You’re the one.”

Deadly silence seemed to paralyze both of you, as it spread out in the entire café, more eloquent than a requiem at a funeral. You were pretty sure you were going to strangle yourself, your throat clenching as you fought for breath.

Andrew was two weeks and a day late.

For a brief instant, you couldn’t help but wonder, watching your own reflection in his soft brown eyes. You wondered when he realized he needed you. You wondered how it happened. But mostly you wondered… would it have ended differently if he just loved you enough to come to that empty VIP lounge in the LAX airport, keeping his promise…

All of the sudden you heard a familiar deep voice penetrate the absolute stillness, life rushing back into your veins at the sound of it.

“Is everything all right, beautiful?”

You cleared your throat, turning your head to your right almost automatically. With his leather jacket completely drenched, small drops of water resting on his cheekbones, Ben Barnes placed a hand on your shoulder, his eyes searching your face.

Standing out there in the rainstorm, waiting, he must have wondered what was taking you so long.

“Yes,” you answered a little too quickly, smiling at him in a shaken kind of way. Your hand flew up to cover his, the one in which he clutched his helmet, causing you to turn your entire body towards him. His closeness seemed to sober you up as you lowered your head, taking a long breath.

“Just ran into an old friend”, you looked up at him, an uneasy smile decorating your lips. “Ben, this is Andrew”, you motioned towards Garfield, standing in between the two of them now. “Andrew, this is Ben… Although I suspect you might have already met,” the lump in your throat refused to dissolve, so your words came out blurred and hectic. “The coffee is taken care of,” you smiled at Ben again, but he didn’t seem to notice, staring at Garfield’s pale face. Barnes’ lips were a thin line, almost invisible. The way his jaw tensed didn’t escape your attention.

“Nice to have met you, Andrew”, Ben said, his voice low.

“Yeah, the pleasure’s mine”, you heard Garfield mutter. You avoided his stare, tears still pooling in your eyes, as you tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you ready to go then?” Ben inquired, looking at you expectantly. You nodded at him, finally taking control of your emotions.

“Yes,” your reply was firm and almost cheerful. “I’m right behind you. I guess I’ll be seeing you at work, then, Andrew”, you both nodded at each other. There was nothing left to say.

As you walked away, the sound of your steps aligning with the rhythm of your heart, you counted your steps, small and heavy.

Twenty… Thirty… Forty-three…

Forty-fucking-three thumps on the wooden floors.

That was all it took for you and Andrew to go back to where you started: complete and utter strangers, sharing a handful of memories, which would eventually fade, just like the echo of your steps in a deserted café…

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine #imagine #x reader #remus x reader #sirius x reader #kind of

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saving-people-shipping-things · 7 years

Text

Falling Around You: Part 1

Title: Falling Around You

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Sam pines away for the reader in secret, but when she loses all memory of hunting and monsters, he’s forced to rethink how to approach his feelings.

Theme song: “Over You” by Ingrid Michaelson

Word count: 4,159

A/N: What is it with me and one shots that turn into series??? Anyways, this is my first Sam series, and I have to give a huge shoutout to my beta @idjitmonkey for helping me to avoid Sam sounding like Dean (#DeanGirlProblems). This is the first part of what will probably be a 3 or 4 part series for @impala-dreamer and @idreamofhazel ‘s Sam fic challenge. My prompt is the quote “We are far from perfect, but we are good.” I haven’t used it yet, but trust me, it’ll be used later. Let me know if you want to be tagged for future parts!

Sam smelled it first. The smoke. The charred flesh. The smoldering fabric. It was an all too familiar smell, a scent no one should have to be familiar with. But the scent came first, and with it, the memories tattooed in his brain, permanent and infecting his body with a poisonous ink.

Next came the realization. It’s happening again. Sam’s heart flew into his throat as tendrils of gray curled from underneath the door to the next room. He kicked the door open and the blaze towered over him in an arc like a tidal wave, but even through the flickering forest of scorching flames, he saw clearly who this time was pinned to the ceiling.

You.

Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes wide and panicked but long since dead. Sam called out your name, lungs bursting in his chest with the force of his shout, but he made no sound.

Sam woke up to sheets soaked with his sweat.

It had been the same nightmare for one-hundred and sixty-four days.

Constant nightmares meant Sam was constantly the first one up and about in the mornings. Interrupted sleep with the image of you on the ceiling burned on the inside of his eyelids was hell for his concentration most days, but it was great for making sure he got an early start. The sun had barely risen and he was already back from his run, panting and dripping with sweat. He guzzled a bottle of water as Dean shuffled into the room in his bathrobe.

Dean grimaced at his younger brother and put on a pot of coffee. “Dude, you stink.”

Sam shrugged. “At least I take care of my body.”

Withdrawing the remainder of the doughnut Dean had just shoved in his mouth, he spoke around the food. “Wha’ oo you mean?”

“Never mind.”

You wandered in, letting out a loud and dramatic yawn as you blinked and stretched. Your hair was in total disarray thanks to your chronic case of behead, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh and give it a playful tug when you passed.

“What was that for?” You slapped his hand away.

Sam took his toast to the table. “Nothing. How did you sleep last night?”

“Like a rock.”

Sam watched you move around the kitchen in a rhythm unique to you. It was the same routine every morning, without fail. Half-asleep, you’d pull out a mug for your coffee, then poke your head into the fridge for something to eat. Then you’d realize you forgot to pour any coffee and abandon the fridge without closing it. After pouring your coffee, you’d remember you forgot to close the fridge and do that. But then you’d open it right back up again because you forgot to grab the creamer while it was open.

And every morning, Sam would smile at you from the table when you weren’t looking. The day didn’t really start until you’d bustled around the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast.

“I stayed up way too late last night binging ‘Sherlock,’” you continued, joining Sam and Dean at the table with a cup of coffee and a container of mango yogurt. “But, you know, once you watch a season finale you have to see the episode of the next season.”

“I’m familiar with that torture,” Sam said. “I had to wait over two years to watch the next episode, though. You’re lucky you have Netflix.”

Your eyes got wide and round over the rim of your mug. They matched the light brown, creamy color of your coffee, accentuated by the thick black eyelashes. “You’re kidding.”

Sam shook his head. “Nope. It was a long hiatus.”

Dean snorted from his end of the table. “Dork.”

“Hey,” both Sam and you protested simultaneously.

“You’re just jealous because you’re missing out on all the ‘Sherlock’ fun,” you pointed out. “We all know you’re the biggest dork here.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s right, Dean.” Sam balled up his napkin and took it along with your empty yogurt container to throw out. “It may be a different kind of dorkiness, but it still counts. Who stayed up all night to finish a ‘Dr. Sexy’ marathon last month?”

“That’s different. ‘Dr. Sexy’ is an art form.”

“If you say so.” You stood up to wash your mug. “But anyways. I found ourselves a case.”

That caught the brothers’ attention, pulling them away from their relentless teasing of each other.

“What?” Dean said, as Sam said, “Where?”

You answered both of their questions. “Some small town in South Dakota, not sure what. But people are literally losing their minds from whatever it is. Total memory loss for no reason other than they went into this ‘haunted house’ on a dare. One day they’re fine, the next they don’t even recognize their own families. It’s near Sioux Falls, so I thought we could stop by and say hey to Bobby on the way back.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m gonna go change.” Dean stood up from the table, gesturing to Sam, but speaking to you. “Make that man take a shower before small animals start passing out when he walks by them.”

You snorted, then called after him as he walked away. “Why would you think I’d have any control over him? He’s a grown man.”

“I don’t know, bat your eyes or something.”

Sam muttered, “Jerk,” under his breath, trying to play it cool even as heat rose to his feet.”

“So,” you said once Dean had left and leaned against the counter in what was probably supposed to be a seductive way, but coming from you came across more like a toddler playing dress up in her mom’s heels. You had no clue what you were doing, and it was absolutely adorable. “Do I need to bat my eyes at you or are you going to shower? Cause I hate to side with Dean on, well, anything, but you do stink, and there’s no way in hell I’m getting in a car with you for seven hours like this.”

“Like you said, I’m a grown man.” Sam tugged at your hair again, earning himself another slap from you. “I’ll take a shower.”

“Thank you, kind sir. Now we can all save those poor, innocent forest creatures Dean is so worried about.”

“Those bastards,” Sam said with a twinkle in his eye, because he knew as soon as he said it, you’d be doubled over with laughter, and your laugh was one of those rare things that couldn’t be manufactured but made the sun wonder how you were able to outshine it.

It was a simple phrase, but held enough meaning between you two, it was like a secret code. After your first hunt together, you’d hit it off so well, you decided to catch a movie nearby. But of course, no movie was complete without smuggled snacks. Into CVS you went, and while Sam opted for the healthier choice of trail mix of which you later picked out all the M&M’s, you went straight for the candy bars and other junk foods.

“They don’t have my favorite chips!” You’d gasped, clutching a Snickers bar in each hand.

Something about your utterly indignant face as you stared in horror at the shelves made Sam grin wider than he’d ever had. “Those bastards,” he replied, without missing a beat.

You’d turned to him, the serious look still etched upon your face, then folded over on yourself, wheezing for breath as you laughed. Maybe it had been the hunting high you were both still coming off of, maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe something else entirely. But something had changed then. Maybe just for Sam, but it had still undoubtedly changed.

“Hey, Sam?” You said before Sam could leave the room completely.

Sam poked his head back in the kitchen. “Yeah?”

You fidgeted with the ends of your frizzy hair. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

Sam stiffened. He leaned against the doorway so you wouldn’t notice. “Yeah. Fine. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” You sighed and turned away. “I thought I heard someone calling out in the middle of the night, but maybe I was just dreaming.”

“Maybe,” Sam said, and left before you could ask any more questions.

You were making excellent time up until the last hour when the skies broke open over you and pelted the road with glittering glass shards of raindrops. It was an angry, punk rock sort of rain that obscured your vision and made it impossible to do anything but crawl to the nearest exit.

“We’ll stay with Bobby tonight,” Dean said as he pulled off down a quieter road, away from most of the traffic. “I’m sure he won’t mind. We can do some research there and head out again tomorrow.”

Bobby did mind, very much, as he was wrapping up a date none of you had known about when you arrived, soaking wet, your shoes more mud than they were shoes. After Bobby had bid the woman farewell, Dean proceeded to tease him for a straight half hour. Sam just shook his head at his brother and thanked Bobby for letting them crash, then headed to the kitchen to get a head start on the research.

You joined him soon afterward, but Sam only caught you in his peripherals as he really dissected the articles depicting the recent memory loss victims. You dug around in the cupboards, shamelessly raiding Bobby’s stash of food.

“Bobby!” You called out. “You really need to keep actual food in your kitchen, not just whiskey and cans of beans.”

“I do have real food,” the grizzled, grumpy man grumbled. He and Dean came in, distracting Sam for the time being. “I wasn’t expecting company, that’s all.”

“Yeah, only the company of your lady friend.” Dean smirked.

“Shut up, ya idjit,” Bobby muttered.

At some point, things quieted down. You found a Snickers bar at the bottom of your hunting bag, rectifying the food situation, and Dean helped Sam research for five minutes before faking a yawn and calling it a night. Sam continued to scroll through articles and Facebook posts on his laptop.

The thunk of a mug being set down on the table jerked Sam out of his trance.

“You need some caffeine if you’re going to keep this up for much longer,” you said. Your hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of your own. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks. Restless night last night,” Sam said without thinking. He stifled a yawn on the back of his hand.

Your eyebrows knitted together. “I thought you said you slept fine.”

Sam’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “I did. I just meant—”

He broke off. There wasn’t a good enough lie within his grasp for him to use, so he grabbed the mug instead. It was hot, much more than usual. “Did you warm the mug first?”

A smile tugged your lips at the corners, barely. “Yeah. You always get so focused on your research, you know, sometimes your drink gets cold. I figured the coffee would take longer to cool down this way.”

It was just a normal, unsweetened, generic cup of coffee in a chipped mug worn from one too many times through the dishwasher. And Sam loved it.

“Thank you.” He picked it up and held it to his chest as you sat down next to him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked. “I mean, I know hunters always have bags under their eyes, but yours have seemed a little darker than usual lately.”

Sam sighed. He wasn’t able to keep things from you, most of the time. Just the most important bits, the ones that would condemn him in ways that would change your relationship permanently, for better or for worse. “It’s been a rough few nights. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Nightmares?” You ventured.

Sam nodded.

“I get them, too. Sometimes I see them at night, my family. And it feels—so real.” You took a shuddering breath, staring at the wall. You looked paler than usual. “But then I wake up and they’re gone. I can’t always decide what’s worse: having them there, covered in blood in my dreams or having them—just gone.”

Sam knew you were thinking about them—your parents and younger brother. And he knew just how you felt, down to the “it’s all my fault” face you got when you thought he wasn’t looking. But he couldn’t reach out or do more than say, “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Really screws with my beauty sleep.” You cracked a sideways smile at him. “And you could definitely use more of that.”

Sam rolled his eyes, snorting. “Thanks.”

“I’m just saying, a little facial cream does wonders—”

“I get the picture.”

You squeezed Sam’s shoulder, and an electric jolt ran through him, like a little shock, though he knew he’d imagined it. “Don’t stay up too late tonight, ‘kay? We can always do more research on the road.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

You shrugged and put your mug in the sink. “I can’t help it.”

Sam tried not to watch you leave, but he couldn’t resist a glance your way as you disappeared around the corner.

Bobby watched you, too. Or rather, watched Sam watch you.

“What?” Sam said, too defensively as he opened another tab on his laptop.

“She’s sweet on you,” Bobby said softly.

Sam snorted again, but there was no humor behind this one. This was all self-deprecation. “No she’s not.”

Bobby’s stern look was one Sam was well acquainted with. It was often paired with a grumbled “idjit.” “Boy, I’ve been around the bend a few times too many to know that that girl has more than just friendly concern for you. Believe me.”

“You’re crazy, Bobby.” Sam didn’t look up from his laptop when he spoke.

“Don’t you go calling me crazy in my own home. You boys just can’t realize when something good’s right in front of you, can you?”

Sam didn’t resume his typing until he could no longer hear Bobby’s heavy footfalls. When he went back to his Google searching, he found he couldn’t focus any better with the room empty, save for Bobby’s words echoing in Sam’s head, than he could with it full of people.

Sam picked up his coffee mug, realizing he hadn’t even sipped at it, and took a drink. Still warm. He smiled down at the contents in spite of the remnants of his nightmares flashing in front of his eyes.

Maybe if he told himself enough that he was fine. Maybe if he did, he could get over this. Get over you.

You made a big show of grumbling your discontent as you got out of the Impala to ask directions at the gas station, but Dean insisted on sending you inside. As soon as the door had slammed shut and you started to walk away, Dean whipped around to face you.

“What’s this I hear about you and Y/N?” He demanded, all business.

Sam threw his hands up in defense. “Whoa. What’s what about what?”

“You know what. Just answer the question.”

“How am I supposed to answer a question when I don’t even know the question?”

Dean sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Bobby told me last night that you and Y/N have a thing going.”

Sam laughed. Loudly. Too forcefully. “There’s no thing.”

“B.S., Sam. Bobby seemed pretty sure of himself.”

“Bobby’s crazy.”

Dean shook his head. “He said you’d say that.”

“Seriously, Dean—it was a silly crush, okay? Like ages ago. But I’m over it now, it’s no big deal. And Y/N doesn’t know it ever happened, so let’s keep it that way.”

Dean set his jaw and squinted his green eyes at Sam for a long time, but you reemerged before he could interrogate is brother further. “Okay.”

You slid into the backseat. “Yeah, just like your phone said, Dean. Straight ahead. I’m not sure why you don’t trust GPS. Everyone uses it.”

“Because I swear one day, these machines will rise up against us,” Dean said as he started the Impala up again.

“You sound like my grandfather.”

“Maybe he had a point.”

Sam tuned out your bickering and leaned his head against the window, resisting the urge to doze. He couldn’t risk another nightmare with you and Dean in the car. Not when he already spent half the night last night tossing and turning.

Your face, framed by the flames, flashed in front of him again. Sam sat up straighter, pinching his forearm. As much as he hated the reminders from his subconscious, the reminders were necessary.

So many names. Too many gravestones. He would not add yours to the growing list.

You all reached the old, abandoned house, and you reached up to tie your thick hair back. But, of course, it didn’t work the way you’d planned.

“Shoot,” you muttered. “I always forget—”

“—your damn hair tie?” Sam finished for you, pulling one out of his pocket.

You laughed and accepted it, tying your hair into a ponytail. “You’re a lifesaver. Honestly.”

“I try.”

“When you two are done flirting, we’ve got a haunted house to inspect,” Dean said as he passed, earning him a less than kind hand gesture from Sam when you weren’t looking.

The house was a total cliché, something straight out of a cheesy horror flick. It was dusty and over a hundred years old and had floorboards that creaked louder than a clap of thunder if you so much as breathed too loudly.

“Nice digs,” you said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “I’m sure there’s something here that’s causing the memory loss.”

“Let’s hope.” Dean shone his flashlight around the bottom floor. “Otherwise we’ve got to figure out where else these people could have been attacked.”

“I’ll take the upstairs,” Sam offered. He gripped his knife tighter as he looked at the rickety staircase.

You batted a cluster of cobwebs away from your hair. “I’ll join you. Might be nicer than down here.”

“Doubt it,” Dean said, but you and Sam went upstairs anyways.

Dean was right. The upstairs wasn’t much better, but it creaked less, and it allowed for you and Sam to be in the same space without Dean or Bobby potentially causing problems. Sam found that for as often as you made him fight for breath, it was also easier to breathe around you. Something as simple as your presence stilled him. It was a rare and beautiful thing to find a soul that could calm another.

“What?” You said, startling Sam.

“What?” Sam echoed.

“You were staring at me. Something in my teeth?”

Sam cleared his throat and pretended to be rifling through an ancient wardrobe. “No. Sorry. Just zoning.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t sleep last night.”

“Did you?” Sam countered. “I heard someone up at four getting water.”

“You had to be awake to hear me.”

“Touché.”

You ran your hand along the top of a desk, shuffling a few papers out of the way as you did so. “So if you were awake—” You broke off, and Sam followed your gaze to the fireplace. On top of the hearth was a glittering object, some sort of crown. “Whoa, fancy.”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t—” Sam started, darting forward.

But you’d already touched it. You shrieked as a bolt of something electric audibly crackled, blasting you backward into the wall. Sam fell beside you when you crumpled. Your eyelids fluttered, thick lashes twitching with them. Sam felt for your pulse. It still beat in a steady rhythm, if not more rapidly. Dean could be heard storming up the stairs, calling both of your names, but Sam didn’t answer him.

“Y/N?” He said, holding your face in both of his hands. He tried not to think about how it fit perfectly, a puzzle piece falling into place. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

The door slammed against the wall as Dean burst in. Plaster fell like snow from the hole in the wall thanks to the doorknob smashing into it.

“What the hell happened?” Dean panted. “Y/N? Is she—”

You groaned in response, reaching out to Sam like he was a raft in the middle of a stormy sea. Your eyes were unfocused, breathing more shallow. “Sam?” You mumbled. “Something—ungh, I feel sick . . .”

“Hey, hey, hey.” You tried to stand, but your legs wouldn’t hold your weight. Sam caught you before you could hit the floor again. It was a good thing you weighed close to nothing, or at least it seemed that way to Sam.

Dean stepped out of Sam’s way, watching as he lifted you into his arms. “Get her to the car. What happened?”

Sam jerked his head toward the crown. “Touched that. Careful, I think that’s the source of our problems.”

Dean shook out a cloth from his pocket as Sam took you from the room. A minute later, Dean slid into the front seat of the Impala and glanced back at Sam inspecting your head.

“Definitely cursed,” Dean confirmed. His lips were set in a grim line. “How’s her memory?”

“Haven’t gotten that far yet.” Sam leaned back and waved his hand in front of your eyes to get your attention. “Hey, can you tell me your name?”

“Sure, I can. It’s Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, and though your speech was slurred, Sam couldn’t find any other reason to worry.

“And where are we?”

“Near Sioux Falls. South Dakota. We’re staying with Bobby.”

“What just happened?”

“I touched that.” You pointed to the crown wrapped in Dean’s cloth. “And everything went dizzy.”

“I think she’s okay,” Dean said. Both his and Sam’s faces were uncertain, but there was nothing more they could do. “We’ll keep an eye on her, just to be sure.”

“Sam?” You said again, and to Sam’s surprise you scooted closer across the seat and curled into him. You must have been tired. “Can we get food? Real food? Greasy food? I’m hungry.”

Sam’s stomach churned at the thought of another diner meal where the closest thing to a vegetable was corn, but he couldn’t resist you. Never was able to. Especially now, when your head resting against his shoulder, when your messy ponytail draped over his arm, when your eyes were half-shut and vulnerable.

Over you. He was so over you. Over your laugh and your smile and your wit and your everything.

“Sure,” Sam said. “Anywhere you want.”

You gasped from across the booth at the menu, startling Dean, who sat next to you, but Sam just glanced up from his own menu. He had a guess as to what you’d say.

“Sam!” You said in indignation. “They don’t have any cheese dip!”

“Those bastards,” he laughed, which made you laugh despite the grievous offense of leaving out cheese dip as a menu item.

Dean shook his head at both of you. “I stand by my original ‘dorks’ statement.”

You hit him with your menu.

Somehow, you all managed to find something worth eating even without the cheese dip, and an hour later you strode back to the Impala, full of food and laughing at each other’s jokes.

Then, without warning, you collapsed again.

This time Sam wasn’t able to catch you, but he did help you off the asphalt, wincing on behalf of your skinned knees.

“You okay?” Dean went to your other side, helping you to sit down in the backseat.

You blinked a few times, then smiled up at the both of them. “I feel fine, why?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

“You just fell down over there,” Sam said. “Can you—are you still remembering things okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just go through the questions again.” Dean left Sam to go to the driver’s seat and get the engine going.

Sam crouched down to get on your level. “Where are we?”

“A diner?” You said, as if it were totally obvious. Your forehead had confused crinkles in it.

“Okay, good, and where are we going?”

“Back to Sioux Falls, I assume.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N Singer.”

Sam was about to stand up, satisfied with your answers, but your last one made him pause. “What did you say?”

“Y/N Singer,” you repeated. The crinkles in your forehead were deeper. “Why are you questioning me? I just scraped my knees. I’m fine.”

“Dean,” Sam said in warning, but Dean had already twisted around in his seat.

“I heard her,” he said, his face clouding over. “Let’s get her to Bobby’s quick.”

“You guys are acting weird. Weirder than usual,” you said as you all drove back to Sioux Falls.

Dean grunted, but didn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive. Neither did you. Neither did Sam.

Part 2

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