#and he keeps forgetting to give response scripts to sam | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vminity21 · 5 years ago

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Promise Me | pjm

Pairing: Actor!Jimin X Actress!Reader, ot7 featured, friendshiptolovers!au

Word Count: 17, 280

Genre: fluff/soft/angst/smut

Warning(s): mega-angst, family rivalry, eventual smut, losing virginity, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, nipple play, mild language use Rated: 18+

Summary: You and Park Jimin, two best friends who grow up together, pursue each of your careers in acting. Even after a horrible misunderstanding which then leads to losing contact, the two of you never give up on your dreams. Nor, do you give up on each other.

Credit to: @suhdays for making such an awesome cover!

He relies on his elbow while he slides to lay on his side, beat up converse crossing at the ankles while the loose scrape of his jacket sounds when greeted by the hardwood floor; his cheek brushes your shin once he makes himself comfortable. Your arms are folded across the tops of your knees where you rest your chin, staring at him fondly as you wait for his cue to speak, "You know you can trust me," he flashes a full smile- eyes disappearing into crescents causing your heart to melt at his overwhelming beauty.

"I know, I just... It's not you, it's me," you say, the cliché line sounding believable coming from your lips. Looking towards his clasped hands in response, he nods,

"It's not you, it's me... I've said that plenty of times in my life,"

"So, you understand me," you muse with the raise of your eyebrows hoping your stare exuberates your flirty side. When he returns to peer up at you, his thick lips poise with a slight twitch as if he's conjuring up a reply,

"Come here," he tilts his head up while you maneuver yourself to reach him- lips lock in the most passionate mold, and when he moves to where he can easily pull you closer, his kiss almost makes you forget where you are. Your hand trails to tangle with his blonde strands, getting lost in the movement he makes while he leans back, pulling you with him as previously practiced-

CRASH!

Jumping at the ear-piercing sound of shattering glass, wide eyes stare at the culprit of your piggy bank that fell from the pedestal he happened to lean against for support. Gulping, coins and dollar bills sparsely decorate the floor with the jagged pieces, but none of that is the reason why your heart is pounding with intense fear. There, lying in the jumbled mess of a pile is a couple of ID cards to cover your real identity.

He stands to his feet slowly, taking careful steps toward the muddle.

"I- I can-" You begin, trying to gather an explanation- watching him shuffle up the cards when a façade of shock covers his expression.

"What- what are these?" Anger darkens his eyes with the subtle rise of his voice.

"I can- I can explain-" tears brim the moment he halts your words by holding out his hand.

"No. Don't. I think I've seen enough," he tosses the cards onto your bed before stomping toward the door. Jolting to your feet, you mirror panic,

"No, Sam, please! Wait, please!"

Chasing after him, he spins around, "We're done, Kylee," he removes your hand that happened to reach his shoulder, "Or is that even your real name?"

"CUT!" The director, Steve Aoki, calls and with accomplished smiles, you and Jimin turn to face the cast and crew, "Wonderful, wonderful! Absolutely astounding!" Steve applauds, congratulating the pair of you while the two of you step away from the set. "I know this movie will make it to the big screen if the two of you continue performing like that!"

"Thank you, Steve," Jimin slightly bows forward with a sweet grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He slips his arm around your waist with pride, "What can I say? I have a great co-star!"

"Ah, the chemistry!" Steve exclaims.

"Well, thank you to the both of you," you gleam with flattery, leaning into Jimin's side with the tint of a blush heating your cheeks, "I'm having a great time."

"We'll film more scenes with the two of you tomorrow. Right now, we need to film action scenes with the stunt doubles," Steve quickly kisses the side of your forehead before walking off, "Take five, everyone!" He shouts, clapping his hands to disperse the workers into a break.

"I must say, I'm really enjoying this movie with you, Chim," you compliment as he leads you to the refreshment table. Bottles of water sit in perfect rows in front of the snacks- cheese cubes and crackers tempting to relieve your growling stomach.

"I can say the same to you, [Y/Nickname]," Jimin reaches for two waters and hands one to you in which you take a few sips once you screw off the lid. As crazy as it sounds, Jimin has been your best friend for as long as you can remember.

Born to wealthy parents, a couple years after you came your sister. From the day you learned how to speak and understand the world around you, a dream was created that revolved around the career of acting. That's all you've ever wanted to do, and in elementary school, where you got to experience your first taste of this dream, you landed a role as Mrs. Scrooge in the Christmas play. Since none of the young boys tried out for the part, they changed the character to a woman the moment they discovered your talent. After your performance, you received numerous compliments that you were beyond grateful for, and since then you knew, acting was your definite calling. Sure, you had only been in fifth grade, but you loved being on the stage. It gave you a new perspective of every character you played- a new way of seeing life played out before you behind someone else's eyes. The stage – you were in your comfort zone. There, you felt home.

You had spoken to your parents about your dream to find that they were thrilled about your hope in acting. Your mom had warned you though that you needed to be patient; landing a show or movie role could be an incredibly hard task. Promising to be patient, like any kid would have, you kept your eyes peeled for any announcement of an audition. First, you started small- your mom had found auditions for commercials, and that was when you officially began the acting business. Three commercials down, and then you attempted in auditioning for TV shows which you hadn't had much success, and you wore the face of a broken-hearted girl. You figured you would never be good enough for the big screen with how everything was panning out, yet one day, auditions were being held in your city for a romantic comedy that was going to be filmed in the same spot also. A young girl was needed that would resemble the main actress in order to accomplish flashback scenes. Of course, you begged your mother to take you once you received the news.

Sitting in the waiting area the day of, your mother had driven you and your sister all the way to the location, and it felt like days when in all reality it had been three hours before your turn was called. The audition line was packed, and your sister had been growing anxious, wanting food or water, anything that would keep her entertained. Your mom comforted her by handing her a notebook and a pen from her purse, "Here baby, draw on this, okay?"

You remembered seeing a girl similar in age to you exit into the lobby with a confident smile. Your heart rammed within your chest as your sweaty palms rubbed against your jeans. Each child had been handed a script to study in the time leading up to this moment you were anxious to begin. C'mon... You can do this. Your eyes shot up in the direction of where a door opened, "Next!" A lady with long, dark hair smiled at you kindly when she caught your timid eyes, and out of habit, something you even did at doctor visits, you turned to your mother as if to ask for permission to follow what seemed to be a genuine woman.

"Go on," your mom said softly, "I believe in you."

Comfort eased your countenance and you left with a smile in determination of needing to nail this audition. If your parents, believed in you, then you knew that you could do it. The squeak of the chair sounded the moment you rose to your feet soon finding yourself inside the audition room where the only thing you could hear was the light thudding of your heartbeat. A red cloth adorned the table before you, where four judges remained seated. One male with gray hair chewed on the back of his pencil before looking up at you behind thick-rimmed glasses.

"How are you today, Miss-" He looked over at a clipboard lying in front of the woman who led you to the audition room, "[Y/N]?"

"I'm good, how are you, sir?" You put on your best smile with pure genuine though your hands quivered at your sides.

"Good," he sounded cheery for that second, "Okay, Mrs. Yeun is going to read the lines which will be spoken by the character, Will." He gestured briefly to the left in introduction of a lady holding a clipboard, "And after she finishes her lines, that's when you'll obviously speak. Start your first line when you're ready,"

Looking back, you're sure he must have repeated himself a million times that day with each audition, yet you still felt as though you were the only soul surrounded by strangers though many mirrored the same feeling. Inhaling deeply, you closed your eyes while your fingers curled into your palms- releasing the moment you exhaled- gradually opening your eyes once you imagined yourself as the character you were supposed to be.

"Will!" You exclaimed whilst envisioning the highlighted lines you studied thoroughly- waving your arms frantically in the air as if to gain the fiction boy's attention, "Will! I- I found it! I found the treasure!"

"You did?" Though the voice of a woman read the part, you still pretended to see a messy haired boy with a galaxy of life behind his almond eyes while he rushed to see what you claimed you had found, "By golly, you did!"

The man then wanted you to read more of a serious scene between your character, Rose, and Will. Trying to think of sad things to keep your expression gloomy, forced tears welled within your eyes just enough to make your character compelling which resulted in applauding judges bidding a slew of congratulations after jotting down a few notes.

"We'll reach out if you make callbacks," the man nodded once and that's all it took before you ran out of the room with a smile from ear to ear. It took only a few days before you received a call back in which you were able to audition a second time but in front of the actual director of the film. You returned to Rose, the character you had grown to love already. This time, it took weeks before you had a callback, ending in nights of nervous tears that maybe your dreams wouldn't come true after all- your parents reassured you despite the inner angst of wondering the same as you, and told you not to give up no matter what the circumstances.

It was the call that changed your life forever. Dancing in the kitchen alongside your mother who was stirring the batter for some cupcakes, you remember as though it was only yesterday, small fingers gripping the device before greeting the person on the other end.

"Is this [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N]?"

Your mom mouthed 'who is it?' when she caught the way your lips had parted in confusion at the male voice you couldn't recognize on the spot, but you answered, "Yes, sir," anyway. It was the screaming in excitement that nearly knocked the bowl out of your mother's hands when you heard the man confirm the hope you've so desperately held onto,

"Well, [Y/N]! I am thrilled to say that you made the part of Rose!"

Arrangements were then made- the company in charge of the movie rented a home for your family to stay in while the movie was being filmed, and considering the duration of how long a movie can be to make, your mother began to homeschool you to keep you from falling behind. On your first day of work, the cast members had gotten together to review the script. Your mother was hesitant to drop you off at first without her being by your side, but with the assurance from the director of your safety, she reluctantly agreed to let you go. Teary-eyed from the anxious feeling pounding in your chest, you walked into the room where a table full of adults greeted you along with two teenagers scrunched next to three empty seats. Not one soul seemed close to your age just yet, but you were politely introduced to your fellow castmates which relieved you enough to promise yourself everything would be okay.

"Hi, you must be Ye-jin!" The voice of a young boy rattled behind you causing you to gasp softly before whirling around to face your intruder. Dark hair swooped across his forehead where almond eyes presented eager, brown irises that beamed with kindness; his wrinkled light blue t-shirt was loose on his tiny frame as well as his jeans, and he was not much taller than you from what you observed.

"Oh no, sweetie!" The surrounding table erupted in frilly laughter, "I'm Son Ye-jin!" The most lovely woman you had ever seen gushed at his widening smile.

"Oh! Well, I'm Jimin! Park Jimin!"

"Well, the two of you take a seat. The director will be here any minute," a handsome man nestled beside Ye-jin gestured toward the empty seats you and Jimin waltzed to occupy. A few minutes of chatter filled the room while your eyes scanned the scene before as any child would do when uncertain of what would be happening next, but that's when a poke on your shoulder disrupted your stares,

"What's your name?" Jimin asked the second your eyes timorously moved to meet his.

"[Y/F/N]. [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N]," You replied, "And you're Jimin,"

"Yes! I play Will! You must play Rose,"

"I do!"

The director and producers filed into the room before any more conversation could be continued, and for the next hour, the plot of the movie was further explained, though now, being an adult, looking back, you understand the synopsis much more than when you were ten years old first hearing it. The main characters discovered a treasure when they were children, unraveling secrets that could be worth a fortune. When the couple became adults, though had lost touch throughout the years, they never forgot about the treasure and the two individually set out to find it yet again. Unexpectedly, they bumped into each other and a love/hate relationship ensued until they found what they were looking for.

You and Jimin started filming different scenes together over the next five months after the script had been explained and reviewed. The pair of you became inseparable, growing closer with each scene finished. There was never a day that went by where you hadn't begged your parents to let him come over just for the two of you to practice your lines for whatever scheduled time for filming was planned next. Your father would bring home ice cream whenever he got off work to surprise you, your sister as well as your newfound friend, and you will never forget Jimin's melted chocolate smile or the way the ice cream would drip from his chin onto whichever shirt he'd claim was his favorite. Throwing a fit of giggles, he would chase you around the yard until he'd catch you- tickling your tummy until you took your outburst back. He also loved drawing with your sister, something he wasn't very good at, but he liked giving her company to prevent her from ever feeling left out.

Whenever the cast and crew had days off, Jimin would return to his hometown and you never could shake the loneliness you endured without him around. Though your sister enjoyed drawing or watching a movie, you more so preferred being outdoors, or practicing your lines which had been a daily chore since you became a part of this movie project, and of course, when Jimin would return, the pair of you would be driven to set to get back to work.

One particular scene, one you will never let be forgotten in your heart, is a moment where Will and Rose made an oath to be best friends forever. You and Jimin were directed to a swing set where the two of you took your seats, slightly swaying forward while the cameramen stood where assigned. Powder was dusted upon you and Jimin's faces to finalize everything before the yell of, "Action!" was voiced.

"You know, Rose?" Jimin became Will almost instantly, a talent not many ten-year-old children can perfect, but from what you remember, he had and has continued to blow minds away even from the beginning of his career. His expression was serious while his gaze remained on you as practiced. "I need you to promise me something,"

Looking at your black slippers, you noticed the swings were edging simultaneously, but you kept your focus solely on the words you were about to speak, "What is it, Will?" You tried to pull off your best curious face.

"I mean promise, even if you get tired of playing checkers with me,"

"Yes," you urged.

"And, if you get tired of playing tag even though you're always 'it,'"

"Yes," you dragged the word length in attempt to feign impatience.

"I mean you have to really promise me,"

"Okay, Will! I really, really promise," the wind calmed just enough to where your hair stopped tickling the sides of your face. Jimin hopped off the swing while his footsteps paused to face you completely. Even though you both were in acting mode, there was something serious behind his umber eyes that only you could see. One of the cameramen moved to film the side angles of you and Jimin's faces in order to capture the scene the way it had been imagined. Sometimes, with the camera being so close, it was hard to ignore, but at that moment, you were too absorbed with your character and Jimin's eyes to even glimpse in the camera's direction.

"Promise me that no matter what, we'll be best friends forever," the blurred sight of Jimin's pinky finger carefully raised in your line of vision, and for dramatic effect, you were told to count to three before your cue to say your line,

"I promise," you curled your pinky and locked it with Jimin's while a shy smile became present upon your lips, "Best friends forever."

"CUT! That's a wrap!" The director had said, but you vaguely remember that. All you had on your mind was the moment you and Jimin had shared. Though your lines had been written from a script, the two of you meant every word. That's why the scene had seemed so believable because there was truth in it.

Jimin was your best friend since that very day, and you pursued your dreams and have landed roles in plenty of hit movies since moving back to your hometown seven years ago. You're now a pretty well-known actress, but others find you humble in the fact that you never seem to show it off nor let the fame get to your head. Being seen in public has become one of caution, yet you adore every fan that comes your way asking for an autograph or a picture just so the memory of meeting you can be burned into their hearts forever.

Your dad, after your first movie, was transferred to officially work at a better job that happened to be in the same city that Jimin and his family lived in, which prompted your family to move being your mom as well as his became very good friends. You attended school with him at this point which he guided you due to you had been growing used to homeschool since your first movie. It was safe at the time to roam the halls of school- you and Jimin never became really famous, but your popularity gained with the pupils once joined the drama club resulting in auditioning for every musical or play the school had to offer. So, did your partner in crime, Park Jimin.

"You're doing it again," you snap back to the present with a sharp shaking of your head to dissolve the thoughts now scattering into your subconscious. Eyes clearing, you realize you've been zoned out for quite some time considering the subtle crease of worry tinged within Jimin's gaze.

"Sorry, Chim. I'm kinda-"

"Dazed," he finishes your sentence- his pink lips pressing into a tease of a smile.

"You know me so well,"

"I do," he winks taking a sip of his water bottle- swishing it around before swallowing, "Want to go out tonight? My schedule's clear for once,"

With busy lives of movies, sponsorships, premiers, cocktail parties, and anything revolving around this world of being on the go, it's hard to truly find the time to spend together which is something you've forced yourself to accept. But, miraculously, tilting your head, you comb back through your memory to realize you are, indeed, free this evening, "I would really like that, Chim. Thanks," you smile, excited to spend time by his side without cameras rolling in both your faces.

"No problem," he slips his hand in yours, carefully scanning behind you to confirm that not one person is watching. His warm fingers intertwine with yours while he leans closer, plush lips nearly tickling your temple, "Besides, I miss spending time with you," he whispers, you repressing the obvious tingles spreading across your skin- you turn in the direction of where the exit is visible, him following suit though hands remain locked.

"You're spending time with me now," you tease.

"You know what I mean," he rolls his eyes, yet his smile remains so wide, you feel the elevation of your heart flying. You love his smile, everything about him makes your head spin into a dizzy world of happiness. He's one of the biggest heartthrobs in the world; girls go crazy with his presence being in the same room as them; and, with many knowing him and his six best friends like the Bible, they don't really know Jimin like you do. It's the same for you, too. You love your fans more than life; you love reaching out to them on social media- signing at cons- meeting them in public when recognized and hearing the endless compliments on how wonderful you did in whatever movie has been released where you're the star of the plot. But as many times as he's said it, Jimin will always be your number one fan.

The fan who knows you.

Starring alongside him in the recent movie the pair of you have been working on was intimidating at first. You're not sure on how the press will react, or fans, or... the world. Jimin landed the role of Sam and nearly begged you to try out for Kylee who would in due course be the love interest for Jimin's character.

"Please! I'm begging you! You'll love it! It has action in it!" He nodded quickly while a ginormous smile with the shimmering pearl of his teeth nearly blinded you- his hands clasped together beneath his chin before he popped up and down in desperation, "Steve Aoki is the director and when I mentioned you to play the female lead, he freaked! He agreed that you should do it! C'mon [Y/N], please! You'd be brilliant!"

"Is this another excuse for you to kiss me again-"

"So, what if it is," Jimin's hands unlatched, "Are you complaining?"

Though it was merely a tease, your chest heated with a deep shade of red- your head shaking incredulously as you placed your palms upon your hips. You dragged on about another minute with skeptical eyes before lifting your hands in defeat, "Okay, I'll do it,"

"YES! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Jimin grasped you in his arms while he spun you around- laughter being the only sound filling the space of his apartment. When you auditioned, you landed the role on the spot which led to Jimin whisking you into the air out of a manner of rejoicing. Your family cheered you on as well, proud of all your successes in the career you've accomplished. After skimming through the script for Kylee, you called one of your good friends, Maeve, thrilled about your new job. Maeve had played your best friend in a movie about five years prior, when you were nineteen, resulting in the two of you becoming real friends instantly.

"You already know I'm going to be front row when it's finally released," she said. The plot is about a young girl, Kylee, whose parents are spies and so is she. But a fatal accident happens that causes her family to go into hiding, and one boy's father had to pay the price. Jimin's character, Sam, is the son and had seen the face of Kylee's father and figured out the last name he had used when his mission had turned into a mistake. But Sam doesn't realize who Kylee is until he sees the ID cards in her bedroom- which is the scene you and Jimin had officially filmed nearly twenty minutes ago.

The conversation with Maeve then turned into how things had been going for her- how her boyfriend wouldn't take the hint that she wanted him to propose to her, "I don't understand why he's so blind! Like, do you love me or do you not? It isn't that hard,"

"Ah, boys," you snickered, "Shame, shame, shame,"

"Speaking of shame. Don't you have to kiss your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Mae. It's just for the movie," your words came off nonchalant despite the nervous tension that traveled throughout your body, and there were some things you haven't found the courage to admit to Maeve just yet. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time you and Jimin kissed.

Daydream grinning along with the squint of your hazy eyes becomes apparent while the memory leaves you.

"What?" Jimin chuckles, turning to face you fully once the exit stands between your frames and the outside world. Your heart skips a beat from the way his beautiful smile stares down at you, and deep down, you wish you can tell him that, but the pair of you have been friends for so long, you're uncertain if making these feelings known is a good idea. Despite everything the pair of you have been through, you can't help but wonder if a relationship will bring you closer, or just tear your hearts completely apart. And, even now, years later, you're not sure if you can handle losing Jimin again.

"Nothing," you reply tenderly, eyes checking to examine his worn-out converse he has had since high school, "Just admiring your... fancy footwear,"

"Hah!" He laughs once, laying his head back, "I already told you, I'm going shopping today. Besides, I need a new outfit tonight, so wear something pretty," he pulls you in for a friendly hug, rubbing his free hand slightly on your back, each of you still holding your water bottles, yet you maneuver enough to nuzzle your nose into his chest.

"Since when do you care about what I wear?" Your chin moves to plop upon his chest while your eyes peer up at him with the arch of an eyebrow, pulling your lips into a goofy, tight grin.

"I don't," Jimin chortles, "But I know you do," it's the way he brings the tip of his fingers to your forehead tickling your skin to move a strand of hair so he can see your eyes clearly, "You look pretty in anything,"

If your heart isn't already combusting enough, it takes everything in you not to kiss him right then and there, and with a small huff in frustration, you pull your arms from his frame to then rest by your sides. "Alright then... pajamas it is,"

"See you later, [Y/Nickname]," Jimin tries to say between laughs, leaning forward to press a small kiss to your cheek. The old nickname makes you giggle as you watch him step beyond the exit. Memories from high school present themselves almost immediately gracing the strange feeling of being sixteen again in your Junior year and auditioning for the spring musical where you and Jimin had landed the lead roles. Jung Hoseok, a mutual friend the pair of you gained, congratulated you both with a huge smile many knew him for. You played a fairy who happened to be in love with a human prince and of course, you and Jimin not only had to sing but had to dance, too, which led to Hoseok practicing dance moves with you two in effort to help.

Overjoyed was an understatement though dancing had always been something to hold you back. Jimin is a phenomenal dancer- raw talent to the point he makes it look easy with the way he poises his body so effortlessly upon the stage- swinging his limbs to the beat of the music, emotion etched on every inch of his face. You remember the endless pressure that seeped into your skin building anxious fingers that clasped tightly together when you were listening to the script Mrs. Lee had written.

Saying quick goodbyes to your castmates, the reminiscent disappears for a fractioned moment while you gather your items before sprinting to the limo where your driver, Stan, awaits you. Shouts of hundreds of fans boom instantaneously at the appearance of you leaving the set. Security surrounds the area in case of any danger, and though you reach to open the door, you turn to wave with the best Red Carpet smile you can muster- blowing a kiss to add to your appreciation.

The limo holds a haven you've grown to adore since your fame took off. Shutting the door, you slide to rest your head against the tinted window, politely greeting Stan before your eyelids flutter for the crave of sleep.

Jimin came over countless times just to practice dance steps; every now and then, Hoseok joining, despite the chagrin that haunted the crippling blushes dawning your cheeks. For the last musical number, the Grand finale, Jimin had to lift you in the air by the waist with you posing your limbs exactly how Mrs. Lee demanded leading Jimin to spin you around during the growing intensity of the belting harmonies before returning you to your feet. It hadn't been easy- something you'd grown to learn especially with the helpless moments of him firmly gripping your waist right when you'd jump sending the two of you tumbling onto the ground in bouts of breathless laughter. After weeks of attempting this one lift you couldn't seem to perfect, your parents happened to be out of town one evening for taking your sister to an art gallery about an hour's drive away. Your mother had been a tad iffy with leaving you and Jimin alone, but you assured her that it would be fine- just because he's a male didn't mean that she couldn't trust the pair of you to behave being you two had simply been friends for years, and nothing more.

Once your family left, Jimin arrived, setting the music in preparation for the mini rehearsal you'd been dreading for the thousandth time.

"Okay," you exhaled, carefully placing your hands upon his shoulders, "Now, lift me," Jimin obeyed, hoisting you as high as he could with a swift grunt escaping his pressed lips. His fingers dug into your sides unintentionally, and before you realized you'd closed your eyes, excitement showed in the widening of your smile- he was holding you up! Finally, longer than ten seconds you remained there,

"I. Got. You," Jimin said between clenched teeth, until suddenly, his arms shuddered beneath you ensuing the shape of an "oh" that formed on your mouth.

"GAH!"

Jimin fell backward onto the couch- your side bouncing off the cushion for your gluteal muscles to meet the wooden floor. Stunned, you'd never seen Jimin's eyes so enlarged, but before you could gather your bearings, you blew at loose hairs that were static over your eyes,

"Ouch."

"HAH!" Jimin let out a high-pitched, one-syllable laugh, already covering his mouth with both of his hands to stifle the chuckling, but it was no use. Clapping a few times, he buried his shoulder into the couch while a breathy snicker escaped your side smile. Tears flooded your eyes from the hysteria of the moment- springing to your feet to then fixing your wrinkled shirt.

"Okay, okay," you breathed, trying to resume composure just enough to stop giggling at yourself, "Let's do this one more time! Chop chop!" Hitting your hands together like how Mrs. Lee tended to do to receive her pupils' attention, Jimin pranced to plant his feet in front of you, repositioning his hands on your waist, "Wait," you paused, concern abruptly covering his eyes while he waited for you to speak, swallowing, you began, "Chim Chim, I need you to promise me something," Lips in a firm line, you held his gaze. It was hard to be serious at times with your best friend, but for right now, you rejected from breaking.

"Anything," he nodded once, searching your stare, lips parted, and realizing how close he was sparked a strange desire that you never wanted to reveal before.

"But you have to really, really promise me,"

When a knowing smirk twitched on his lips, his eyes now held the memory that you were trying to remind him of, "Okay,"

"Even," you continued, "If I love beef bulgogi a little more than I probably should. And-" you paused for effect.

"Go on,"

"Even if you laugh like a maniac and I can't take it," teasing had always been something you both loved to do, and bowing his head with more laughter, he returned even closer than before- his warm breath brushing your cheek.

"Alright, alright! I promise! I really, really promise,"

Eyes still locked, you slowly raised your pinky finger up to him, investigating his expression letting nothing but the sound of the starting air condition fill the space,

"Don't. Drop. Me,"

A soft chuckle enhanced his smile causing a pitter patter beneath your chest, while you joined him. He brought the back of his hand to his mouth- something that he does when he's really tickled, and the sight of it made your heart swell in ways you hardly understood. How could someone have such a strong effect on you?

"First off, I prefer Kimchi stew,"

"Oh, you. Ham!"

Shaking his head in amusement, Jimin reached for your hand, hooking his petite pinky finger around yours to conceal the promise you had forced him to make, "I promise I won't drop you this time," he twirled you once like a gentleman, placing his hands back on your waist once you faced him.

"1, 2, 3!" Jimin, with all his might, boosted you into the air, immediately spinning you around. Now think ballet, you reminded yourself, holding your arms with elegancy. After four twirls, Jimin effortlessly set you down and overwhelmed with pure exhilaration, you couldn't refrain from rejoicing, "We- we did it! Jimin, we did it!"

Right then, you kissed him. Cupped his cheeks into your palms and pecked his lips. You hadn't been thinking entirely straight, but it all happened so fast that it took a second for you to comprehend. Hushed. Silence engrossed the room to the point that your heart throbbed in your temples mingled with the growing heat on your reddened skin- perspiration clammed your palms, yet the only thing frightening your state was the attempt on not panicking though you knew deep within your soul that you'd never regret it. Gulping, your eyes fell to the slow fall and rise of Jimin's chest- his gray shirt showing the iridescent silver pendant you gifted him for his past birthday staring right back at you.

You just kissed your best friend.

Jimin stood there, questions swarming full circle within your mind; feeling distraught, your lips pressed together to prevent the tears burning your nose. You remember figuring that he was angry with you, hence why he couldn't invoke any words to speak. But, unexpectedly, gentle fingertips lifted your chin, your eyebrows furrowed in surprise, but that's when your eyes met as if meeting for the first time, the innocence of the moment not once lost while you anticipated the sight of his nervous expression lowering to yours. You held your breath, eyes closing, every inch of the world disappearing. It was just you and him as it'd always been.

He kissed you. He kissed you right back.

With shivering arms, you wrapped them tightly behind his neck while he moved to encase you closer to him, bodies pressed into a blanket of warmth, you never wanted to uncover from. Feelings you had denied time and time again were showing in that kiss with Jimin- a surreal image you never dreamed you would experience, yet here he was, wrapped in your arms- lips moving to relock with yours so lovingly that your mind was rotating. Nothing could compare to the soaring of your heart, especially sharing something so passionate with someone you had grown to love so much, and this new feeling, one you'd never quite endured ignited a curiosity you couldn't withhold any longer.

The kiss grew aggressive, breaths increasing while dazed eyes remained shut, and though track of time had been misplaced, you no longer cared. Hands pressed against Jimin's chest, he gradually stepped backward until the back of his calves greeted the sofa- breaking the kiss, he swallowed anxiously, eyes never leaving yours- collapsing onto the couch before you propped either leg beside him in a perfect straddle. Snatching his kiss rapidly, your palms held his face while he finicked with where to place his eager hands, gliding up your back in awe of how beautiful you were to him.

You left him completely and utterly breathless, and you wanted this moment to last forever.

Everything had been going perfectly until your parents walked in-

SLAM!

The loud sound of the car door jolts you awake as you blink through the mild darkness. Previous memories fade for now, swiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand before thanking Stan for the ride. The white mansion stands tall beyond the gate where you punch in a code to then proceed onto the property. It appears your mother is not home momentarily, where as your sister and father are visiting an art show in another town, giving you time to prepare for whatever Jimin has in store for you later this evening.

There's a feeling of relief when kicking off your shoes, parading up the spiral staircase toward your closet that waits for your attention. Sifting through the rack of dresses, you close your eyes to randomly select from a hanger in a mechanism to prevent you from being in disappointment; yet, you find your shoulders dramatically dropping when you peek to see what is now hanging from your hand. You're uncertain of why you feel the need to judge every article of clothing you own, and you figure it has to do with impressing a guy, but you are aware that Jimin will accept you for who you are no matter what, so why are you so worried?

You love him- you wince, because that's something you are still struggling with confessing even though it has been blatantly clear since you were sixteen years old that you are wholeheartedly and irrevocably in love with Park Jimin. And, that never changed even years after losing him.

You remember that night like it was yesterday, the very first time you and Jimin kissed. Caught in the moment of what the pair of you secretly dreamed of with no recollection of how much time had passed. No bad intentions were going to be followed through, honestly no other thought from kissing him was even considered for you; all you cared about was how you never wanted him to leave.

But, your mother, unfortunately, assumed the worst.

There wasn't even a chance for you to stop what had already begun, it was too late- your parents walked right into the sight of you lip locked with your best friend, prompting you to immediately jump off him. The gesture was so quick that a slight headache thudded, and all that was flooding your widened gaze was your mother's horrified expression. She happened to be the first to enter the door while your father and sister lagged, luckily missing the already humiliating scene that nobody would ever want their parents to see. With gritted teeth, your mother's icy glower said enough, but she still voiced for Jimin to leave. Him flashing you an apologetic look while he stumbled to gather his things. Your father had no idea of what was happening until he heard your mother shouting at you for over an hour.

"I thought I could trust you!" Your mother jabbed a finger at you, pacing back and forth in front of you while you wailed into your pillows. "I can't believe you betrayed my trust!"

"I've already told you I was so-sorry-" You choked, wishing nothing more for this feud to end, begging the universe to turn back time, so you could have anticipated of when your family would have returned home- saving you and Jimin from this shame.

"What if we had run an hour late, huh!? For God's sake, [Y/N], you're only sixteen!"

"Mom! It-It wasn't like that!"

"Well, it sure looked like it!" Tears brimmed her eyes, because her heart was just as torn as yours, battling with what she should do as a parent, but also inwardly understanding what it was like to experiment in falling for someone at a young age. Something she hadn't really shared with her children. She had left the room for quite some time, trails remaining damp upon your cheeks before your mother returned with firmly crossed arms.

"Mom, I promise, it wasn't my intention," your voice broke, trying to gather whatever explanation you could, but she stopped you.

"I'm sure it wasn't, but I talked to your father and we came to an agreement. You will finish out the school year here, but once it's over, we're moving back home."

It was like your world shattered all at once in so many different directions, and there was no way to describe the abrupt halt of your heart mirroring in the way your eyes expanded in sheer dismay. "No! No, no, no- Mom, what about Jimin!? I can't just leave him!" The pain etched in your cries haunted your mother more than you'd ever know, but at the time she was doing what she assumed was the right decision.

"That's the point, [Y/N]. You're not allowed to see Jimin, speak to him, or even think about trying to see him. I've already spoken to his mother,"

"But- but what about the play?" You panicked, desperation clinging within your words, not wanting to process what was just demanded of you.

"I don't know. Right now, I'm too upset to decide."

It was the worst night of your life. One thing you never expected throughout your friendship with the one person who mattered most to you, was losing Jimin, especially knowing that once school ended, you would move back to your hometown, far away out of his reach. Your cellphone was already locked in your parent's room, and any form of technology, you would no longer be in possession of if your mother could help it. Bawling uncontrollably, you cursed fate for taking away what could have been.

The spring musical was the only time you and Jimin were able to truly see each other amongst rehearsals; and the night the play began, the pair of you performed with all you had, trying to mask the hurting as if it hadn't existed, portraying as though all was well when really your world was falling apart. Even when the evil fairy sprinkled dark magic upon the Prince's Kingdom, Mrs. Lee flew her fingers speedily along the piano enhancing the volume, imaging the chaos felt beneath your chest. The Prince and evil fairy battled it out until the enemy was defeated, the piano softening to a more pleasant sound that eased you enough to force your face into a loving grin.

The cast crowded around the both of you, but you hadn't noticed, because the only person you longed for, getting lost in his shining eyes was Park Jimin's. "Fairy, my love, listen to the sound of my voice," he bowed, reaching his hand toward you- hands collided tenderly, "Whether ye stay or whether ye go, you have a choice." You yearned for it to be real, that you had a choice- that you could stay with him. Stay with him there in this city where the two of you could remain best friends and possibly become even more. "Just promise me, as each day passes, that ye will never forget thy love or my Kingdom as long as ye live." You swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting tears at the finishing of Jimin's final line.

"My prince, in every dream I dream, I choose thee," though not within the script, Mrs. Lee always preached improvisation, and lightly, you touched his cheek, him flickering his stare between yours whilst leaning into your palm, the Kingdom rejoicing when Jimin pulled you into a crushing hug. The faint smell of his cologne met your nostrils causing you to memorize this moment as best as you could, so you'd remember everything about him. His touch, his hold, his smell, his smile. Anything you could take with you in hopes of getting to see him again one day.

When the intro of the duet is keyed from the piano, hand in hand, you and Jimin faced the audience, smiles as heart stopping as could be, belting harmony from beginning to end, both capturing the audience with every word. Blended voices were breathtaking when the cast joined in, finalizing the night with dancing eyes and goosebumps across the theater, and even more applause when Jimin effortlessly succeeded in the originally dreaded lift where he spun you in the air, returning to plant your feet upon the stage. While the crowd stood to their feet in an ovation, the cast had you and Jimin hidden enough, and although time was ticking, Jimin hadn't cared. His palms cupped your cheeks while you tried to read his hurried eyes, the tip of his nose brushing yours before he captured your quivering lips. The kiss was soft. So soft, and when it ended, he whispered through the loud whistles of the audience to where only you could hear, "I love you," he breathed.

"I love you," tears fell from your cheeks, and he gripped your hand as soon as the cast dispersed into a line, uncovering the pair of you as rehearsed, leading to everyone bowing while the clapping continued to reverberate throughout the building. Although, beyond proud to be a part of such a successful production, nothing could take away the pain hounding your heart when your hand had to ghost Jimin's to find your parents. Your mother refused to let you out of her sight, and whether your parents were proud of your performance or not, you never knew, because not a single member spoke on the way home. Instead your mind replayed the secret kiss Jimin gave you over and over to the point it welcomed you in your dreams. It was hard not to cry when you had awoken, eventually breaking into a fit of sobs wishing Jimin had been there to hold you.

Depression was evident in your demeanor, and there was nothing anyone could have done to 'fix' you, or the situation you felt so hopelessly in bondage by. When the last day of school arrived, it had been the worst, and you and the person your heart belonged to had not spoken in months. Times where he would glimpse your way in drama class, you just couldn't bring yourself to face him, because it hurt way too much to accept the reality that you were leaving. You figured his mother informed him of your family moving back, especially since he never seemed to give up on trying to get you to at least look at him.

That last day of class, you cuddled your music binder to your chest, backpack straps hanging loosely from your shoulders, and you strolled upon the sidewalk to wait for your father to come pick you up. It was a sudden moment, when you curiously turned to lock eyes distantly with your best friend. You both stared, yet the way your heart sank to the floor, all you wanted more than anything was to run to him, embrace him in all entirety, kiss him for what you presumed would be the last time, and savor the moments you would have had with him. But, you couldn't, and you didn't; instead, you mouthed three words that you meant with all your soul, 'I love you.' Jimin bit at the corner of his mouth as fresh tears pooled- he looked down momentarily as if destiny had betrayed him before returning his eyes to yours, 'I love you, too.' As if it could have been anymore of an opportune time, your father arrived right then to pick you up, and in fear that he had seen Jimin, your head whirled to look back where your best friend had been to see he was gone, prompting a painful, long sigh of relief.

It had only taken a week for your family to officially move, finding a much larger home which happens to be the mansion your family resides in now. Although the space was nice, it still took months until you forced yourself to move on from the dancing boy that had appeared in your dreams almost every night. The boy who had stolen your heart when you hadn't realized it. There was an attempt, when you were allowed your cellphone back, that you tried reaching out to discover his number had been disconnected, and despite the gnawing of confusion, you guessed his mother must have changed his number, the same as your parents had changed yours.

Eventually, after a year of returning to your hometown, which included graduating high school, your mother convinced you to get back into acting, to audition for as many things as you could until you found a job. So, that's what you did to keep your mind busy, scouring any information you could get regarding auditions for tv shows, movies, commercials, absolutely anything that would just keep you going. Sporadically, you landed the lead role in two separate movies, gained a celebrity friend, Maeve, and continued into the years piled immensely with interviews, traveling, movie premiers, award shows, your fame skyrocketing to the point millions knew your name.

And just like that, your world became brand new. Became a clean slate. Your past buried behind you while you sprung forward. Your success in the acting business brought numerous calls pleading for you to audition for their movies; businesses were begging you to promote their products; magazines arranged for your photoshoots where you appeared on a myriad of covers- you rarely had a clear schedule, and you liked it that way. Lights, cameras, paparazzi, meeting other famous individuals as well as meeting your fans, you were becoming happy again, you were finally returning to having a steady relationship with your parents, and your sister improved in her artistic ability. You were slowly forgetting about the boy you once knew.

You made callbacks for yet another movie at one point, but unfortunately, had not gotten the lead role as hoped for, rather, you played a minor character which ultimately gave you a break from the consistent moving. Your body needed a break; your mind needed rest, and so you decided to take a short break until you found the motivation to search for another job. The movie merely didn't make it far- critics claimed the plot had been too predictable, but it made it to the big screen regardless, and for that you were grateful. Another year passed, now being twenty-two years old, you and Maeve went on a shopping spree throughout the streets of your favorite city, sipping frappuccinos in the smothering heat of summer, a poster happened to catch your eye. Stopping to read it, the straw of your drink pressed to your bottom lip, Maeve's furrowed eyebrows veered from you to the poster.

"What is it?" She asked, ears perked to the sound of clicking cameras though the pair of you have learned to ignore it. Mumbling the words along with you, Maeve leaned forward, "Auditions being held for a romantic comedy this Saturday.... 9am to 3pm... Oh wow! You should audition!"

"What? Why me? Why just me?" You turned your head abruptly while studying your giggling friend.

"You said so yourself that you wanted to be in a comedy! And, there ya go, how much more of a coincidence can this be?"

"A poor one," you took a long sip from your drink quelling laughter from the incredulous gape Maeve flashed you.

"Are you not going to at least try? You are [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N] for crying out loud!"

You were tempted, and you honestly hadn't been in a comedy since you were... Ten years old. Chick flicks had mostly been your calling though funny moments of course were mingled amongst the seriousness. "That I am, but I don't sit on a throne, Maeve, I'm just as normal as it gets."

"If you define normal as putting your potato chips in your sandwich then I guess you're right,"

"It gives it a lil' crunch," your mouth missed your straw awkwardly, but you swerved just enough to catch it, "you should try it sometime."

"I'll try it when you audition for this movie," Maeve teased, "Which you will even if I have to drag you there myself,"

"You have much faith concealed in that tiny body, but okay,"

So therefore, you auditioned. It was the lead role you applied for which was about a character who caught the eyes of two guys the second she stepped into the school. The movie seemed hilarious from what you could collect, and you were shaking your head in laughter when you called Maeve exclaiming how you had gotten the part as she predicted. Although, she squealed in glee, she was dreading the idea of adding potato chips to her sandwich as she promised she would if you made the part.

The following week, you couldn't wait to meet your co-workers as well as the rest of the crew, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were immeasurably curious of who would be casted as your character's love interests. Though numerous options, it was hard to guess, though your mind filtered through familiar faces in the acting business. The producers and director filed into the room when chairs began to fill, slapping a thick script in front of everyone.

"There's been a slight change of plans for the story," the director said, prompting your eyebrows to knit together as you wondered what he could potentially mean, "Instead of two guys fighting over you," he pointed in your direction, "there will be seven!"

Interested grunts and 'awes' echoed in the space, and you nodded in surprise; seven? Seven men wanting you all at once? That would sound farfetched to any woman, even in the position you're in as an actress, it remained unbelievable. The director rubbed his hands together, "They couldn't make it today, but we will officially meet them tomorrow to finish looking over the script."

It seemed as if all you did was blink when you made it to set the next day, dressed in your favorite boot heels and casual wear- you weren't paying a bit of attention when you suddenly smacked dab into someone who happened to over tower you.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Ma'am!" He said, his fingers tickling your arms from where he hoped you would stay steady.

"It's fine! I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was going," you chuckled against the chagrin burned red upon your chest, and you couldn't help but be starstruck by the incredibly handsome face staring down at you. Noticeable dimples rested on either side of his grinning cheeks, and the coffee color of his eyes radiated kindness, and of course, you wondered innocently if he was one of the potential love interests the director mentioned the day before.

"I'm Kim Namjoon," he offered his hand which of course you took, enchanted by his smile, but you scolded yourself interiorly due to the obvious fact of not knowing him personally enough to care on whether he was available or not. There seemed to be a recognition in his countenance that you typically notice when people realize who you are, and you couldn't help the flattery when his hand still latched to yours picked up the pace while shaking it. "Oh my gosh! You're the [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N]! My girlfriend loves you!"

"That is so sweet of her," you were still blushing, but deeply touched by his words. Namjoon, dropped his hand in embarrassment from how long he had shaken yours, mumbling an apology, he slid his slim hands within his pockets.

"I must say, I am very honored to meet you. I've seen two of your movies with her and you were phenomenal!"

"Thank you very much, Namjoon! That means a lot. I hope I get to meet your girlfriend soon, she sounds like such a sweetheart," you tried to think if you had seen him in anything that had come out recently, but couldn't place a thing. You continued into the same room as yesterday, pulling your script from your bag, you settled into a seat before observing your surroundings, noticing in your peripherals Namjoon taking a seat beside a guy who appeared very quiet. Long, straightened blue strands spread upon his forehead while his dark eyes scanned the room. His lips were thinner compared to Namjoon's, and they rested contently while he leaned back in his chair. You tried not to stare too much, but when he caught you, you grinned instead of averting your eyes, relief flooded your senses when his lips raised into a side grin in return- his nametag reading 'Min Yoongi.'

When the seat on the other side of Yoongi skidded against the concrete floor, you instinctively looked to the sound, beyond amazed at the sight you saw. You weren't one to spike perspiration on the lining of your forehead just from seeing a man, but with the way his bandana complimented his brown tendrils neatly stacked on his head, you were beside yourself. His square jaw was locked in concentration while his petal pink lips pursed- his chocolate eyes rushed over the lines where he opened his script.

"Kim Taehyung?" A staff member asked, Taehyung nodded in reply, the worker placed the nametag before him, rounding the table to set yours before you. You would honestly never get used to people knowing who you are prior to an introduction considering the staff member had not questioned if you were indeed you. Thought aside, you were very taken aback on how sculpted this man was to a heavenly perfection.

"No, I didn't mean to trip the guy, I just wanted some food!" You vaguely identified the male whose windshield wiper laugh pleasantly greeted your ears while he found a seat, "Seriously, I hadn't seen him standing there." He poised his head enough to lock eyes with Min Yoongi, and you tilted your head curiously with question if they happened to know each other. But my, so far, who you assumed were going to be the men who were going to fight for your love, you were quite mesmerized by their beauty.

"Hello, my name is Chan-ri, I'm a huge fan of yours, how are you?" The exquisitely rosy cheeks of a red headed female entered your vision, and hearing her name, you remembered her from a TV show you binge watched with Maeve before. Genuinely, you offered a handshake, her comfortably taking the seat beside you. After you thanked her for her compliment whilst answering her question, she leaned in closer to your ear, "Is it just me or are these guys ca-ute?"

"The one in the bandana is looking better and better," you winked.

"Gosh, I couldn't agree more. And, I don't know if you've heard the rumors. But, the singer Jeon Jeongguk, apparently auditioned for a role,"

Eyebrows raised when you heard his name, "You're kidding!" You gasped in excitement. "Euphoria is literally my favorite song by him!"

"I could rave about his music all day long!" His presence entered the room as if on cue, hushing you and Chan-ri into bottled-up giggles, her winking at you in a way to say, 'we will talk later when the coast is clear.' A man with even redder hair than Chan-ri followed behind the well-known singer, and your lips parted in a silent gasp along with your amplified glance. "H-Hoseok?" He immediately sought for who said his name, and when he realized it was you, he couldn't help the smile that decorated his face.

"[Y/N]!" He greeted loudly, shuffling to collide into your hug, "Wow, how have you been? I haven't seen you in years!"

He helped you with dance moves for the spring musical sparking memories you hadn't reminisced in what felt like a lifetime ago, but here he was, in the flesh. "What a small world, I've been wonderful! How are you, Hoseok? What have you been up to? Look at you! So handsome!"

Hoseok thanked you before catching up with his life- he decided to go into acting when he graduated from Konkuk University with his soon-to-be fellow co-stars Seokjin and Yoongi which all made sense as to why Seokjin seemed comfortable talking to Yoongi earlier. Due to the encouragement of an individual he befriended, in high school, Hoseok explained how it stemmed him to chase his dreams, and here he was, auditioning for his first movie, excited to reunite with a familiar face from his past. He sat on the other side of Chan-ri, making conversation with her while you focused on the twiddling of your fingers. A poke on your shoulder made you jump an inch,

"Excuse me, is this where we meet?" A lighter voice spoke, but there was a distinct familiarity to it. When you faced the direction of where the question came from, the first thing you visualized was a silver necklace holding a pendant you hadn't seen since you were sixteen- one that you gifted someone as an emblem of your friendship- you were confused because not many people owned this specific piece of jewelry, and when your eyes slowly made the adventure to the individual's face, the rigidity paralyzed your frame faster than you could anticipate. Those eyes.

You knew those eyes. Better than anyone.

There was no stopping the intense hammering of your heartbeat; your temples pounded profusely, and he was frozen in place at the sight of you, because of your eyes. Neither of you moved, because there was disbelief at who either of you were looking at- his hair, now dyed, gleamed sleek blonde tendrils parted but long enough to tickle the lateral canthus' of his eyes, face thinned in a mature eloquence. It had been nearly seven years since the last time you ever saw him, and even then, he reflected your confusion, anxiously collecting whatever jumbled words he could form into sentences, but it was too late. The director enthusiastically entered the room, dispersing the moment just as quickly as it came.

"Greetings everybody! I see you've met our seven new cast members!" He grinned ear to ear, gesturing his hands toward all the guys. Shivering, but trying to keep it maintained, you watched your long-lost friend take a seat across from you next to Jeongguk. "Oh, and here's your nametag," the director plopped one in front of Jimin, you swiftly dropped your gaze, gritting your teeth in reaction to the strong waves of shivers plaguing your body. He was there. Park Jimin, as though you were acquainted with a ghost, was sitting right there in the midst of the small crowd, but with the way your muddled state was feeling- it had been only you two.

"Alright, let's open our scripts to page three. We need to review some main points of the story line." The director informed, but you were hardly listening, yet you kept your eyes zoned upon the booklet before you, only flipping pages at the sound of others doing so. Too many memories spun nonstop like a whirlwind, and you could sense Jimin glimpsing at you in the same wonderment as you were.

The trips to Mcdonalds where you both would split a large fry and dream about the future; the afternoon at school when the pair of you laughed about some cocky kid who face-planted in PE while playing soccer; the days you'd go jogging together and joke about anything under the sun; the moment when you two were drawing with your sister, and you thought Jimin's cow doodle was a duck. One of your fondest memories was your fifteenth birthday when Jimin, even Hoseok, along with your parents planned a huge surprise party just for you; the get-togethers with the drama club; auditioning for the lead roles in the spring musical and landing them. And the grand finale, when Jimin kissed you on what had been a final goodbye before exiting the stage that very night.

Nobody, other than Hoseok, in that room knew of the friendship you and Jimin once had. Nobody in the world would have known except the pupils the two of you attended school with. You were aware that if Jimin were to become famous, people would dig deeper to find that the both of you were in a movie together at ten years old, and all the other evidence that would explode within the media. You, to this day, will never forget the anxiety shooting through your figure while you pretended to review the script wishing you had the guts to just look at him.

The meeting ended in a blur, and you slung your bag over your shoulder, death gripping the script, and rushing out of the room where you felt as though you had been suffocating. You did not want to relive the heartbreak, so in desperation, you wanted to run.

He stopped you before you could even make it halfway to the entrance.

"Wait!" He bellowed. People were bustling by without any concern, but with the risk of a paparazzi capturing this moment you knew would need to be private, you ducked into the other side of a large staircase that appeared vacant aside from a tall plant, and Jimin followed suit- you spinning to see him sprinting toward you. For once you then understood when people described something to relate to a scene from a movie, because there was the love of your life, as if in a movie, running until he reached where you were. He was breathing heavily from the frenetic gesture, and understandably speechless, the pair of you weren't sure where to remotely begin. Swiping a slow hand through his hair, he looked so exquisite as he always had, and though you didn't want to revert to staring at the tiled floor of the opposite side of the lobby, you did. Carefully, he slipped his hands into his pockets, pressing his lips together in apparent worry.

"You're- you're blonde now," though small, a hint of a smile tinged your lips, a breathy laugh broke through Jimin's tight-lipped grin that infamously made his eyes disappear.

"Yeah," Jimin whispered tenderly, "Felt it was time for a change, ya know? Have been getting it colored since my twentieth birthday," breaking the ice enough, you found the strength to meet his gaze. His lips parted to then close multiple times, until he wetted them, "As you can tell, I honestly, don't know what to say, but, my God, I am so proud of you,"

"Jimin-" your voice broke, chin trembling from the burning tears when you knew that he was referring to your success, and the woman you have become. He stepped closer, releasing one hand from his pocket holding it out as if to calm the nervous tension.

"Really, [Y/N], I- you-" stammering through his words, you could see that he was blatantly in as much shock as you were, processing the fact that his long lost love was standing before him in all your glory. "I gave up acting in high school," he swallowed roughly, "as you can imagine, I was going through a rough time." He had been terrified to admit the reasoning considering the pair of you had no idea what had happened personally in each other's lives in the time between, and though he battled with what to say, he found the courage to just say it regardless, "When I lost you, I felt like- I just felt like there was no reason to really try anymore."

"Jimin," you whispered as if pleading with him, "I tried reaching out to you, but your number was disconnected- it was, it was disconnected, I-"

"No, [Y/N], please, don't cry- it's not your fault- Please," this time, he inched so close, that if you would have collected enough bravery, you could have rested your forehead at the curve of his chin where he could have invited you in for the warmth you could fall forever deep in. Eyes refusing to break contact, he continued, "After I saw your first movie, there were a few interviews I listened to where you said some of the most encouraging things, and I realized, if there was anyone I aspired to be like, it's you." Surprise lingered in your expression, because how could any of this be real? You knew stories like this were only filmed for the interest of the world, so how could someone you once cherished return out of the blue to tell you exactly what you needed to hear? "You, [Y/N], are the reason why I never gave up on myself. Why I never gave up at all. Why... I decided to go back to what I loved."

You were his inspiration, and because of that he ended up here. Back when you thought fate was so cruel to take him away from you, here he was, back into pursuing his passion for acting, all because he never gave up on you. You hated falling apart, you hated crying unless it was for the cameras, but in all vulnerability, especially when Jimin pulled you into his arms where your nose pressed into his chest, you cried. With all the pent-up emotions from a time you tried to avoid, you cried. Jimin refused to let you go until you were okay, and without any delay, you stayed by his side, repudiating from going home when you had seven years of catching up to do. There was barely any attention on anything, not even how Jimin opened his hotel room door without you stealing his kisses to the point you couldn't breathe. Fingers tangled into his shirt, he kicked the door behind him, emotions pouring from the way he kissed you as though he was going to lose you again. The most experience you knew, sexually, was from scenes you filmed with other actors- mostly steamy make out sessions, but you had never personally done the 'deed' in reality. Your back plopped upon the bed, palms pressed on either side of Jimin's jaw where your fingertips graced his hair, his hands cradling the sides of your waist while he continued to part his lips so gently with yours.

"Wait," you stopped, Jimin's enlarged eyes flashed concern as though he may have hurt you, "No, no, you haven't done anything wrong. I just- I just," you trailed off, chest rising and falling to steady your nerves. "I've never..."

Jimin exhaled a sigh of relief, bowing his head enough to where his hair feathered your cheeks, "I haven't either." You would be lying if you said you weren't surprised especially with all you had heard from stories others had told about men when it came to sex. But, at the same time, you always knew Jimin was different. Or, maybe it was purely meant to be, how you two abstained from something that was destined to be saved for the pair of you to share with one another. "I don't," Jimin's eyes flickered between your own because if there was anyone, he had an immense respect and adoration for, it was you, "I don't want to rush you into anything-"

"Jimin," your thumbs ran along the soft skin of his face, halting his words, "I want you,"

There was a hopeful smile that beamed from him before he covered your lips with even more kisses, making your head spin in a bliss you only ever felt when being with him. "Are you sure?" He pulled away; eyes boring into yours as if reading every inch of your soul.

"More than anything," you nodded, lifting your head to touch your lips to his for only a mere second. He was so in awe of you that he would do anything for you, and that never changed and never will. Kissing him was the most captivating addiction, and you never wanted it to end. Still completely clothed- the innocence would have been humorous in others' eyes, but the two of you were learning. And, the two of you were wanting to learn together and that's all that mattered to you. Park Jimin had never made you feel uncomfortable at any point that night, and you knew he wasn't going to overstep any boundaries. The fast pace of his lips sparked a feeling to rise within your core- a new feeling you wanted so eagerly to explore, the warmth was nearly smothering your panties, and you instinctively spread your legs to where he comfortably remained, his hips grinding his clothed erection along your area, where the crave to feel the entirety of his skin was all you could think about.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your fingers underneath his t-shirt, his stare timorous whilst you lifted it past his head, exposing the rock-solid muscles toned along his arms and abdomen. Your mouth watered causing you to gulp- never in your life had you seen such a masterpiece, even from his jawline to his soft, blonde hair- you still couldn't muster how ethereal this man before you was. Tossing his shirt to the ground, he remained above you, the necklace you gifted him years ago dangling before he kissed you hard while your fingertips soothed along his back, his hand moving to cup your attired breast, tenderly squeezing it releasing a soft moan from your lips. Just the feel underneath your fingertips of his warm skin made you anxious to feel him molding into you- gripping his wrists, leading them to the end of your shirt, Jimin lifted it off you- your lacy bra staring back at his broadening eyes which caused his breath to hitch in the back of his throat.

"Oh," he groaned, "[Y/N], you are so perfect," his words nearly brought you to tears; your hands rested upon his cheeks, bringing him back to you to plant a soft kiss on his thick lips, him lowering to where his skin finally met yours, the enticing move enveloping you all at once, you could hardly contain yourself, exhaling against his lips just for him to brush his tongue along yours. One by one the clothes came off until his bare legs were jumbled with yours, his erection rubbing along your dampened heat, his thumbs caressing your nipples- the ticklish feeling caused your fingers to dig into his back. Jimin nipped at your collarbone, leaving numerous kisses along your chest, moving backwards to kiss along your stomach, the wetness lingering while your eyes slammed shut in utter paradise. He pecked along your hip bones, his hands never leaving your breasts until he made it to your inner thighs. Slithering his fingers to cling onto your quivering limbs, he spread your legs, his breath panting tepidly along your folds, his eyes widening with the urge he always wanted to fulfill, and only with you. You had never experienced this, and though you had heard of the such thing from various sources, you were curious to know what it felt like. Your clit rhythmed with your hyperventilating, him moving to kiss your inner thighs before returning to your vulva. Your toes curled along the bed sheets, your body tensing in preparation- and that's when he did it.

Gently licking his tongue along your slit, up and down, the motion emancipating a high-pitched moan from your throat which motivated him to continue. He brought his fingers to spread your folds, your core clenching while he sped the movements of his tongue- licking and licking until your hips involuntarily began to shift- your fingers gripping the bed sheets- sweat beading your forehead. For a few minutes, he continued to pleasure you, the tip of his tongue sliding against your clit before returning to hover above you. Though you were uncertain if what you were about to do would be done correctly, you moved your hand to hold his erection, gliding up and down gradually, him hissing with how good it felt to have your hand wrapped around him. That gave you the inclination that everything was being done smoothly; Jimin rested his lips to where your heart pounded, then moved to suck your nipple while your hand did the work, his hands squeezing at the mattress in response to the growing feel of an orgasm.

He stopped you, not wanting to cum too soon, instead interlaced his fingers with yours and rested your closed hands against the pillows above your head. Your core still tightening from how aroused you were, both of you held each other's gaze, you nodded that you were ready. Ready for what you two had been longing for. He swallowed nervously, "I, um, I don't have a condom,"

"Oh," you seemed a bit more scared than how you really felt, "well, I mean, I am on birth control for my... monthly cycle, so I don't think... I should be good," relieved, his knees rested on either side of your legs; lips parted, Jimin's eyes met yours, him leaning forward to stay above you- your legs raising to spread in preparation- while his one hand rested beside your head, he took the other to hold his erection to your heat, your shoulders tensed from the butterflies swarming your stomach.

"Are you sure?" His whisper was nearly inaudible, but nothing in this world would ever change your mind.

"Yes," you nodded, breathless. "Please." Your hands moved to rest on his shoulders- slowly he began to push within your walls- the pain nearly brought you to tears- but, you clenched your teeth, forcing yourself to relax just enough for him to penetrate further, his heart thrumming beneath his chest, especially with the pain he did not want to inflict on you.

"[Y/N], I'm so sorry, are you sure about this, I don't want to hur-" he paused immediately when he heard a muffled cry escape you.

"It's okay, keep going," your eyes were squeezed shut, and you eased your body from the tension knowing he was halfway there. Steadily, he moved further until all of him was within you, the worst part finally being over, you calmed yourself enough to stare into his eyes, your breaths increased, yet relief flooded your countenance because now the pain was subsiding just enough for him to proceed. He thrusted slowly, his lips passionately syncing with yours as your fingers tangled with the smooth tufts of his hair- with one hand, he rested his fingertips above your clit, rubbing affectionately whilst sexing you- the building of the fire below causing your muscles to taut. How something so powerful could bring such a wondrous escape you would never be able to equate,

"Mmm," you hummed against his mouth- the sensation of the orgasm finally reaching its peak- him jolting backward, to finish pumping his spillage onto the bed sheets to then watching you unravel from the ecstasy released from your core. "Holy shit," you could barely find words- perspiration covered each of your bodies, the heat nearly stifling yet still wanting his skin upon yours lingered. He embraced you once the sensitivity dimmed- you nestled your face into the side of his neck.

"We did it," you whispered, finding it adorable how accomplished you feel, and Jimin pressed you tighter to him, his fingers running along the side of your arm- him moving to brush a gentle peck to the side of your forehead.

"We did it," he repeated, a large, contagious smile spreading across his face- a smile you had fallen in love with once upon a time. You shifted just enough to where your arms hugged behind his neck- bare chests pressed together- your leg lacing around his waist, his hand sliding to rest upon your hip. The silver pendant entered your sight, and amazement hovered,

"You still have it,"

It wasn't a question, more of a softened statement; it was the first time you mentioned it aloud, but Jimin knew exactly what you were talking about, "I never planned on taking it off," rendered speechless, you kissed him one more time, letting every piece of him whisk you away- and nothing could ruin this moment. Park Jimin was back in your arms, and nothing was ever going to take him away from you. Not again.

The fabric of your dress feels silky beneath your palms as you slide them to smooth out any wrinkles. Makeup finished as well as the curling of your hair, you are proud of the dress you chose to wear- it being your favorite color, and one you confidently feel Jimin will love just as much. For some reason, you feel anxious about seeing him tonight, though you don't know why exactly. You have known him a total of fourteen years, yet it still feels like you are seeing him for the first time with any day he is standing before you. Flicking off the lights to your bathroom and bedroom, you scurry down the stairs with your black clutch in hand, entering the living room in the direction of the front door.

"Well, someone looks extraordinarily beautiful tonight,"

"Oh! Mom! You scared me!" You gasp, chuckling when you turn to see your mom leaned against the door frame that leads into her office; her arms are crossed though she smiles at you suspiciously.

"Sorry, honey. I was on Facebook when I heard heels, so I came running,"

Lowkey a fashion guru, your mother always enjoyed seeing the gowns you would be fitted for events, and knowing you haven't had anything lined up recently, she rushed intuitively to see what her daughter is up to.

"Well, what do you think?" You twirl in place, the dress brushing your knees before hanging in place.

"What's the occasion?" Mom raises a brow, though you know she's teasing. Your mother has always been one who liked to be aware of where you are in case if something were to happen which you know that is how you would be if you had a child. Though aware of your fame and constant schedule, your mother wants to at least know you're safe, especially when you are followed most of the time in public.

"I'm... going to see Jimin tonight," you have refrained from bringing him up countless times knowing it can be a potentially uncomfortable topic for your mom, but you refuse to lie about your whereabouts for fear of something that might not be the case anymore. Distant, you notice the way she seems closed off, like something is drifting a cloud of culpability above her head. "Mom, are you okay?" Worried that something may be wrong, you question: does she not like him? Sadly, you truly have avoided any conversation revolving Jimin; even when he came back into your life, it still made the topic awkward.

Mom bites the corner of her mouth before letting out a defeated sigh, "I'll be right back." She steps into her office, and your eyebrows scrunch in obvious curiosity as to what she is doing. Waiting patiently, she makes her way to you, hand outstretched with a folded picture she gestures toward you. "I found this the other day, and I thought maybe you should have it." Your mother slightly grins against welling tears, and when you reach for the picture, you carefully open it, tears filling your own eyes at what you see.

It's a picture of you and Jimin from when the two of you were either fourteen or fifteen- taken in the evening since it was dark in the background; you figured it must have been cold because you were wearing a jean jacket while he wore his favorite gray hoodie at the time with the bolded word 'Supreme' written in the center. His arms were draped over your shoulders, and you could see the top of a Mcdonalds drink resting in his free hand. The pair of you were smiling so wide defining the happiness the two of you brought to each other on any given day.

"I remember this," you murmur, looking back at your mom, "Our families went out to eat together, and you and his mom were taking God knows how many pictures," you kid. A tear pangs your mother's cheek as she shares a smile with you.

"I remember too. It was such a great night."

"It was," staring at the photo, your heart swells, "Thank you, mom."

When you step to hug her, that's when she loses it- tears spilling down her cheeks while she holds you so close, "I'm so sorry," she sniffs, "We could have worked everything out- grounded you, supervised the two of you or, something! I shouldn't have forced you to move away."

"Mom," you plea, not wanting her to hurt because it breaks your heart to see anyone you know, and love upset. The both of you have held your feelings about the situation for seven long years and never even tried discussing it. Sometimes, talking can be the best medicine- not only do you have to think before you speak, but forgiving the person long before the two of you work things out can really help solve a problem. All one must do is listen.

"I just... I panicked! I didn't want my daughter to make a mistake. You were so young-"

"It's okay, mom, really. I understand,"

"I wanted to even force you to switch out of drama class, all because I was so scared. I didn't even want you in the play. Your father convinced me to let you perform because," she pulls away and holds your arms, wanting to look in your eyes that mirror her own, "He reminded me that we were young once too. We met at sixteen, you know that. And I just remember feeling so guilty when he told me that," your mother looks down for a moment to gather her words, "I could have lost my daughter because I believed I was doing the right thing. I should have trusted you, and I am so, so sorry for everything."

"Mom," you hug her again, "I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Oh, it's so good to know that!"

"And, mom, if we never moved back to our hometown, I wouldn't be as successful in my career as I am now. You encouraged me to go back into acting, and for that I will forever be grateful. Besides, Jimin came back. That's all that matters," your reassurance mends her heart together as she carries pride in her eyes on how far you have come in all that you have endured.

"I love you. And, if you ever need to talk to me about anything, anything at all, you know I'm here for you,"

"Even if it's about Jimin?" You giggle lightheartedly, tucking the picture of you and him in your clutch for safekeeping.

"Even if it's about Jimin." She smiles, "Now what are you still doing here? Go! Get out! Have fun, and please be safe!"

Skipping out the door, the feeling of closure overwhelms your soul, and for once, you feel as if life couldn't get any better, and now you and your mother can one hundred percent be the rock you will forever need no matter where life takes you. When the black SUV that holds your favorite driver, Stan, appears, you burst through the gate and into the back of the car, for him to hand you a small note.

Meet me on the rooftop. Your Chim Chim xo

You reread the note with a smile when you make it to an elevator upon arrival to Jimin's hotel- Stan saying to call whenever you are ready to be picked up. You're amazed how little people seemed to be roaming the hotel, and as a normal for you, you scoped your surroundings in case of any clicking cameras before stepping into what will lead you to your destination. Reaching the top floor, you find a staircase that you presume will climb you to the rooftop, so in determination you begin, trekking up the flight of stairs until you pause at a door.

Inhaling and exhaling calmly, you slowly push open the door, rounding a corner where an intriguing scenery causes you to gasp in surprise. Stringed lights glisten, covering every pole of mahogany wood that encloses the area together. Candles are blinking upon an elegant, black table for two adorned with silverware, lid-covered plates, a wine bottle, and two empty wine glasses. Flowerpots are hanging from different sections of the balcony, bringing more color to the patio; sparse trees fill the rest of the space, the atmosphere exuberating nothing but serenity. Jimin did all of this for you.

Eyes searching, you finally find him, in a black fitted suit, hands in his pockets while he stares at the starry sky. Taking the time to admire him, you have always been so in awe of how genuine he is. Treating his fans with all the love, constantly caring for his family, keeping up with his friends, and for always being there for you no matter what it takes. He listens to you the same as you do for him and being in the entertainment business where rumors spread like wildfire, sometimes a listening ear is what one needs. He has been everything you have ever wanted, and he always will be.

You clear your throat, "Well, sir, you weren't kidding when you said you wanted to spend time with me."

Whirling on a heel, his expression eases when he sees it's you, "Hey!" He beams, eyes disappearing from how big his smile spreads. "I didn't hear you come in. How long were you standing there?"

Noting how he seems embarrassed, you can't help but find it irresistibly adorable, "Not long," you promise, watching him step in your direction.

"Good, I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay, Chim. I don't even know why you're worried, silly,"

"Whoa, you really took me seriously when I said to wear something pretty," Jimin reaches for your hand while you lower your head timidly.

"Look at you! You look like a model!" Jimin throws his head back at your compliment, "And, look!" You point at his shoes, "New shoes! Look at those beautiful, new shoes!"

"I told you I was going to get new ones today!" He tries stifling his laughter in the crook of his arm before sliding your chair out for you to sit.

"And, have I ever told you how much I love the blonde hair on you? I feel like I don't tell you enough," One thing you have learned over the years of knowing Jimin, is he blushes just as easily as you do. When one compliments him, he can't help but slump in his chair before burying his forehead onto the back of his wrist.

"Why are you making this about me," he whines playfully, "I want this to be about you,"

"But, it's always about me, maybe I like to spice things up a bit to appear humbling," your eyebrows wiggle, sending Jimin in another bout of giggles.

"Speaking of spice, are you hungry?"

"Famished," you dramatically emphasize, Jimin shaking his head at you with amusement while he reaches over to lift the lid of the plate. A steaming slab of steak laying scrumptiously on a pile of rice makes your mouth water, even when your eyes trail to the seasoned vegetables beckoning you to devour them. "This looks so good," you acclaim, preparing a fork and knife in order to start slicing. Jimin has already taken a bite in agreement. Deciding to take another swoop of how beautifully the décor mingles with the design of the patio, you speak after swallowing your first mouth full of meat. "I wasn't expecting this," you say softly, looking back at Jimin who cocks a musing eyebrow.

"What did you expect? Mcdonalds?" Jimin grabs the wine bottle, succeeding in opening it before he pours each of you a glass.

"No, you brute, the patio! It's wonderful up here."

"I wanted everything to be special." He murmurs, lifting his glass after holding your eyes, "You deserve it,"

In all honesty, you are at a loss for words, because how you ever deserved a man so loving, you will never know. And amidst conversation, you briefly remember the picture your mother gave you before you left, and deciding to make this known, you wet your lips, "So, I talked to my mom earlier this evening and," you prop your elbow onto the table after gripping the memory within your fingertips, the back of the picture facing Jimin. "She gave me this, and I wanted to show it to you."

Handing it to him, he gently takes it, a reminiscent grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I remember this," he says, "my brother actually teased me because..." He trails off, his grin falling for a moment. "I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend that day, but I chickened out." Your shoulders fall a bit though your heart flutters. Jimin was going to ask you to be his girlfriend? What made him afraid to? You open your mouth to speak, but when you find no words, he continues. "I had assumed that it was just going to be me and you going out that night with Jihyun, but, then both our parents ended up coming."

"That's still so sweet of you," you assure him, wanting the guilt that clouds his eyes to dissipate.

"I like this picture by the way." He holds it up and hands it back over to you. "I want a copy."

"I'll print one for you," you pact, his sincere eyes never leaving yours- all you know is if the table between you didn't exist, you'd kiss him. But as if he reads your mind, he reaches across the table and intertwines his fingers with yours; your eyes still locked preparing to say something, but the scrape of the door makes the two of you jolt and hands part. "Dessert!" A waiter lays out two white bowls in front of each of you, to then taking up the emptied dinner plates.

"Chocolate ice cream?" You say as Jimin smirks at your mouth falling open in glee.

"Our favorite," he winks, bringing a fourteen-year-old memory back in loop of the days where he loved to wear it on his face, and you never let him live it down. Chocolate syrup is drizzled over the dollops, a leaf of mint nestled on top of a scoop to complete the appetizing goal.

"I thought you said you weren't good with girls," you scoff, pressing your spoon into the dessert.

"I'm not."

"Then what is this?" you say quickly, gesturing to the dessert of symbolism.

"I think what you're trying to say is I'm romantic," He raises a brow, pointing his spoon toward you. "Besides, I think it's about time that we admitted that we are committed."

A warm sigh brushes over your cold lips, the taste of the ice cream melted on your tongue, because you know he's right. What have you really been afraid of? Was it really your mother for the fear of her still not accepting him? Well, now you know that she will accept him, so that's not an excuse. Were you afraid of the hateful words that would be thrown your way if the press were to confirm a relationship between you two? In the end, it's about you and Jimin, and despite hate, what would it matter if the world knew? Candidly, you want to protect him from the media, but your strong feelings of keeping him safe are equal to how much he wants to keep you safe.

What really scares you, more than anything, is losing him again. And, you have remained in this strange thought that if the pair of you stayed simply friends that maybe it would prevent heartbreak. Others, for example Maeve, you know would be highly confused by your thought process on the entire subject because why not be in a relationship with him when you both already seem like you are in one? What's crazy is you know Jimin loves you more than anything in this world, you can feel it, yet the pair of you have not said it since you were sixteen years old. The couple years of him returning made you fall in love with him all over again, and the truth is:

You would love to be his girlfriend. You would love to just be his forever.

Before you can respond, the subtle sound of a guitar begins to play through speakers you notice are hanging a distance behind the flowerpots. As if on cue, Jimin stands to his feet, patting his lips daintily with a crumpled napkin before tossing it on the table. "You want to dance?" He asks you, offering his hand.

"Always," he leads you to a secluded spot upon the balcony, and his arm rests behind your back. The volume of the music rises just a notch, you squeeze his shoulder once before resting your head on his chest. The side of his chin brushes your forehead while he sways you so gently, and merely getting lost in the feel of him. Your heart pounds to the rhythm of the song, and you swallow against the nerves enveloping your chest, and you let the song finish into the start of the next one, when you pull away enough to gaze into his eyes. Concern etches in his irises the second he sees you, slowly swaying to a halt. "Jimin," you breathe, fingers tightening their hold on his hand and his shoulder unintentionally, but he is ready to hear what you have to say, no matter what it may be. "Jimin, I know the past two years have not only been the most trying, but they also have been the most rewarding," you timidly drop your gaze to the silver necklace he has resting on the collar of his shirt before returning to stare at him once again, "I am in love with you, and I am ready beyond belief to let the world know it."

Nothing will ever be more magical than watching Jimin's smile grow, and the second it does, Jimin puts both hands on your waist, hoisting you in the air, spinning you around from the excitement he feels soaring all around his soul. You let out a loud laugh, linking your fingers behind his neck, your body leaning forward just a bit as your legs bend to where your heels almost reach your back. "I got you!" He laughs as you lightly lay your chin on his soft bundle of hair until he settles you back to your feet. Jimin, the one who stuck with you from the beginning and will stick with you until the end; the one who knows you more than you know yourself at times, the one you can laugh with, the one you can cry with; the one that you know will never want to lose you as long as he lives.

"I love you so much," His beautiful, brown eyes continue to bore into yours and just the pure love in them nearly brings you to tears, and in this very moment, something rings true- that if this man doesn't kiss you right now, you're going to lose it! Running your left hand through his hair, you stop at the back of his head. His wide smile turns into a grin as he leans closer to your face, resting his forehead against yours prompting your lips to part in preparation for his kiss, ready to feel the fireworks bursting in every place of your heart, ready to be wrapped so tight in his arms, ready for him to leave you breathless as he always does. Jimin then slips a hand off your waist and holds up his pinky finger to you- it catches you off guard, but it the most beautiful way.

"Promise me something, [Y/Nickname]." he nearly whispers.

"Anything, Chim,"

"Promise me that no matter what... You'll love me forever."

A tear slips down your cheek as joy overflows you, because from the first promise the two of you ever made to now, every memory you both have shared has been forever written on your heart. And you know from the look in Jimin's eyes, you both will be sharing plenty more.

"I promise, Jimin, " you say, bringing your pinky to his and wrapping it securely. "I will love you forever and always. Now... you better kiss me before I change my mind!"

Thrusting his head back in flattery, he shakes his head at you with glimmering eyes as he straightens himself to where he can cup your face with his palms. There is never a dull moment with you, and he knows a playful remark always has to be congruent within the seriousness, and when his plush, warm lips touch yours for the first time this evening, the fireworks begin, but instead of in the sky, they are literally bursting in every direction of your heart. No camera, script or film can ever describe how real this moment is. How true it feels. You both hold each other tight, feeling not only love but forever. As Jimin kisses you, sparks ignite, both your heads spinning, hearts pounding and cherishing every second, excited for the future.

Like the end of a perfect movie, you can faintly hear the beautiful song, singing the words of your promise, come to an end.

365 notes · View notes

wandas-sunshine · 5 years ago

Text

Free Falling

Summary: You’re nervous about Tony’s annual Christmas Ball, but Bucky is there to help ease your nerves, or maybe make them worse. Either way you’re happy to spend your time with him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,690

Warnings: Minor alcohol mention, reader is pretty anxious

A/N: This doesn’t specify the reader’s gender, but the reader does wear a dress so I apologize if that ruins it for you guys. Let me know what you think! Happy holidays my dears

Tony Stark’s parties were legendary. His annual Christmas Ball was the event of the year. A live orchestra, the best chefs in the world, and decorations that probably cost more than your house. Or at least that’s what you’d heard. Even after years of working with the Avengers, you’d never gone to one. You received an invitation every year, and every year you’d stare at it, but never once did you attend. You just didn’t have the confidence, or a date. Fancy dance parties weren’t exactly your cup of tea. But this year there was a new variable being tossed into play.

You had just been given your invitation. The words were printed in swirling silver script that reminded you of freshly fallen snow. You were so focused on the looping print that you didn’t notice Steve joining you in the kitchen.

“Are you thinking of going?” He asked. You nearly jumped out of your skin, whirling around to look at him. He gave you a sheepish smile.

“Oh, um...yeah, maybe. I don’t know, it’s not really my thing.” You shrugged and put the invitation back on the table. Steve hummed and picked it up.

“Buck is going this year.” He stated. You bit your lip. To most anyone who had known you for any length of time, your feelings for Bucky were common knowledge. The only person still in the dark about it was Bucky himself, and you were happy to keep it that way. “I think he’d like seeing you there.”

You wanted so badly to ask why he’d care if you were at Tony’s stupid ball anyway. Nevertheless, the promise of seeing him was enough to convince you to face your fears and RSVP.

The next issue came with trying to find something you could get away with wearing. One look at your wardrobe was enough to make it clear that formal situations were not your usual environment. So Natasha decided to take things into her own hands. She argued that you didn’t know how to dress yourself up properly.

One shopping spree later and she had you dressed to kill, though not literally for a change. Of course you were insecure, staring yourself down in the mirror and picking out all of the flaws and insecurities. You probably would have backed out if it wasn’t for how excited your friends were for you to finally join them.

So there you stood outside the looming doors with Steve by your side. You clung to his arm with trembling hands, just praying that your knees wouldn’t go weak when you tried to walk inside. He’d been awfully sweet when you’d asked him to stay with you for a moment. You hadn’t expected to be so terrified, but nearly all of the most influential people in the world were beyond those doors. You could hear the music, and the excited chatter on the other side.

“Maybe I should just go home,” You decided, smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. Steve’s hand rested against your shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on, you’re gonna have a good time.” He guided you gently through the doors.

The room was stunning, vaulted ceilings and wide open space. The bar was on the far end, and it was already crowded with people and lined with silver garland. The walls were lined with trees bigger than any you’d ever seen, all decorated in red and gold. There were shimmering silver snowflakes that looked like they were floating in midair. It was breathtaking really, more beautiful than any of the other parties Tony had thrown you were sure.

You didn’t get to admire the view for too long before you felt the familiar prickle at the back of your neck. You looked up to find several pairs of eyes on you, a few people even swapping whispered comments that you could only imagine were about the two of you standing there frozen at the entrance. You felt your stomach drop as the panic set in. You were no good at being the center of attention. You mentally scrutinized your appearance, but your attention was caught once again.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes snapped up, immediately meeting the steady gaze of one James Barnes. He looked like a model standing there. His black suit jacket covered his red vest and white undershirt. He’d tied his hair back into a bun at the base of his skull, and a few rebellious locks had fallen out into his face. You couldn’t help but think about how well the look suited him, what with the way it accentuated his stubble jawline.

“Everyone is looking over here,” You answered, your eyes drifting down to look at your overpriced shoes. He chuckled, and hearing that sound, you thought, may have been the closest to heaven you’d ever get.

“Let them look. You’re stunning.” The conviction in his voice made your chest fill with nerves until there was no room for your breath. You could have sworn that the floor had fallen out from beneath your feet. You were freefalling. You weren’t often on the receiving end of such compliments. Especially not from him. “Come on, everyone’s over by the bar,”

He offered your arm, and Steve gently pulled away from you. Even with your nerves, you knew it would be impolite to decline, so you rested your hand in the crook of his elbow. With two super soldiers flanking you, the crowd parted like the red sea. Unfortunately that also meant that a surprising amount of attention was turned to the person they were escorting. Everyone was looking at the three of you like you were royalty, but you were too preoccupied to notice, too distracted by Bucky.

When he left your side, you had found solace in the company of Sam and Natasha, both of whom looked stunning enough to make you a little insecure. Not that either of them were going to have any part of you talking badly about yourself. A few compliments later, and Bucky was back beside you, pressing a drink into your hand. You didn’t know what it was but you could use a little something to help you calm down. So you sipped it.

Once you had settled in with all of your friends things didn’t seem so terrible. But the whole time Bucky stayed glued to your side. You didn’t complain one bit. You were a couple of drinks in, joking with Wanda and Bucky until she was stolen away for a dance. Then there were two.

The two of you both fell quiet after only a moment. You sipped your drink and scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be having fun, but you were still pretty sure you stood out like a sore thumb.

“You need to stop thinking so much. Come on,” He took your drink out of your hand and set it down with yours. You quirked an eyebrow at him as he held his hand out for you. “Dance with me,”

You shook your head frantically. You were having enough trouble functioning just standing beside him. He still took your hand in his.

“Bucky, I don’t know how to dance.” You blurted out, pulling your hand from his even though you liked the way they fit so perfectly together.

“Don’t you trust me?” He took your hand again, this time more firmly so you wouldn’t pull it away again. “Just follow me lead,”

“I still don’t know about this,” You whined. Once he had led you to the floor, he carefully showed you what to do with your hands. With so many bodies closing in, you had no choice but to gravitate closer to him. He held you so gently, and the light scent of his cologne was dizzying. Lucky for you he had a hand pressed warm and firm against your lower back.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” He joked, leaning down to whisper directly into your ear. You shivered at the feeling of his breath tickling against your skin.

“I’m just nervous.” You laughed nervously at the confession. You hardly noticed how easily he was leading you to dance alongside the other couples on the floor. It was easy to follow his lead. You would, after all, follow him to the ends of the earth.

“Why are you nervous? You’re a natural,” He complimented, and you felt your body flush hot.

“It’s stupid,” You shook your head. The long silence between you told you clearly that he wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. “I always get nervous around you,”

“Is that why you always avoid me?” He smirked, but there wasn’t the edge of disappointment or harsh amusement that you had expected from him. You nodded, your laugh fizzling into flustered giggles. This was pathetic.

“When I’m around you it’s like my brain forgets how to work.” You confessed. You weren’t sure why you were spilling all your secrets to him, but once you started talking to him it was just so easy to keep going.

“You don’t seem to be having any trouble now.” He laughed, bright and bubbly like that thought alone made him happy. You wondered if that really did make him happy, but wasn’t that just wishful thinking?

“Really? Cuz I feel like I’m dying. Guess it just takes practice.” You were joking, sort of anyway, but Bucky grinned. He gave your waist a little squeeze and leaned down again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered.

“Then you should spend more time with me. You should let me take you on a real date.” Your heart stuttered in your chest as his words sunk in. Maybe Christmas miracles were real, because Bucky Barnes being interested in you had to be thanks to some sort of holiday magic.

“Do you mean that?” You asked. He nodded a silent response, eyes locked with yours. “Yeah, yeah we should give that a go.”

That was the moment you finally admitted that maybe attending this stupid ball wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

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imaginedhaven · 5 years ago

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Reluctantly Rooming: Part Five

Link to Masterpost

To all of you who I’ve been tormenting with Rules of Engagement, please accept this as an apology. To those of you who read this but not my other work, enjoy!

I continue to accept prompts for this in my ask box. Today’s prompt:

"This bath is too damn hot." / "This is why we can't do cute things. You complain too much."

~*~*~

The next day, after Sam had assured her that she wouldn’t need to come into work for at least a week, Aelin hobbled up the stairs and into the bathroom with the help of the crutches she had been given. Rowan had watched warily from the bottom of the stairs, but she had stated in no uncertain terms that there were certain things she needed to be able to do for herself and he had let her go.

After going through her care instructions with Rowan, she had learned that she wasn’t supposed to take the boot off for at least the first week at all, which meant it had to be covered while she cleaned herself. That was accomplished easily enough with a trash bag and tape, but she wasn’t about to attempt to balance herself on crutches in a shower when there was a perfectly good bathtub available to her. The other option, simply waiting until she could put more weight on her leg before getting clean, was thoroughly unacceptable to her; she had spent quite long enough smelling like the bar.

The problem, she realized, was getting into the tub. She had managed to fill it easily, and she was still more than capable of undressing herself. But even with the crutches she realized she wouldn’t be able to lift herself over the lip of the tub without risking another fall and further injury. This left her only one option, and she hoped she could make it work because she desperately needed to get clean.

Sitting on the lid of the toilet, she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her discarded pants and began to type.

Rowannnnnn.

As she waited, she saw three dots appear on her screen to indicate he was typing. The indicator disappeared a few seconds later, then reappeared. This pattern occurred twice more before she finally received a reply.

Given that I doubt you would text simply to pester me when I’m still in the house, I’m going to assume you need something.

Aelin scoffed and hurried to reply. Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t pester you at any given time of day.

Either you need something or I’m going to have to assume that you are somehow managing to miss me despite us both existing in the same space.

Despite herself, she laughed at the response. You remember how you told me to let you know if I did need something?

Given that we had this conversation less than five minutes ago, I’d be hard pressed to forget.

Who spells out 5 in a text?

I do. Get to the point.

Well, you see, I’d come up the stairs with the intention of making sure I didn’t smell like the bar for the rest of the week.

Aelin paused after sending that message and bit her lip, wondering how best to phrase the favor she needed to ask of him. As she watched and debated, he started and then thought better of several more responses before finally sending one.

Last I checked, you broke your ankle and not your hand or wrist. You can’t possibly need me to wash your hair for you.

As if you’d do it if I asked. But no.

You need help getting in the bath I heard you run, don’t you?

If I said yes, would you actually help or are you just going to make fun of me?

Another couple of aborted responses from him appeared and then disappeared, and she was about to text him again when he finally replied. You’re really lucky I’m used to you having no concept of boundaries. I’m on my way.

Aelin barely had time to sigh in relief before she heard his quiet footsteps approaching on the stairs. He opened the door with an unimpressed look on his face. “I’d ask if you were decent, but I suspect the answer to that question is almost never ‘yes’,” he said drily.

“Rude,” she replied flippantly. “I’d say enjoy the view while you’re helping, but we both know you’re allergic to fun so I’m sure you won’t.”

“At least I’m somewhat organized,” he retorted. “Whereas you seem to have flung your clothes into every possible corner of the room.”

“Someone ought to see these undergarments. It’s just a pity it’s you, and the context leaves something to be desired.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Do you want my help or not?”

Aelin sighed and relented. “I really do. I hate smelling like the entire contents of the bar.”

Rowan nodded and began unbuttoning his shirt, and she lifted her own eyebrows as she watched, only to see him scowling in reply. “Could you not? I’d rather not get my clothes wet, is all.”

“That’s fine,” she replied innocently. “I’m just surprised that you choose to wear complicated clothes even on your day off.”

“At least one of us should look presentable, don’t you think?”

Before she could think of something sufficiently witty to say in response, he removed his shirt and she was soon openly staring. She had never seen him anything less than fully clothed, not even with his sleeves rolled up, and now she could see why. A full sleeve tattoo of intricately-inked script in language she couldn’t quite decipher covered the entirety of his left arm, from his shoulder down to his wrist, stopping just above where the sleeves of his shirts normally ended. “That’s incredible work,” she breathed.

Rowan only shrugged uncomfortably and lifted her into his arms.

“Seriously,” she continued. “It’s beautiful. What does it say?”

“It tells a story.”

“Will you tell it to me?”

“Not today.”

Before she could say anything else he was lowering her into the water, and she sighed in relief as he hissed. “This bath is too damn hot,” he muttered.

“See, this is why we can’t do cute things,” Aelin retorted. “You complain too much.”

“It can damage your skin,” he pointed out as he carefully positioned her right leg on the lip of the tub.

“I’ve done far worse to my skin, I assure you.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Will you need me to get back out, too? Or can I leave now?”

“That depends, if I voluntarily eat one of your salads after this with no complaining about eating rabbit food will you wash my hair?”

“No.”

Aelin sighed. “I need to find a better bribe for you, but you won’t eat sweets so I’m at a loss.”

“Your voluntarily eating a balanced diet will serve as thanks for me working from home this week,” he retorted.

Aelin blinked up at him, surprised. “You’re working from home?”

“You’re clearly incapable of taking care of yourself,” he pointed out, green eyes glimmering with amusement.

Aelin shrieked, feigning outrage, and ran a cupped hand through the bathwater to gather enough to splash him. When she dared to look at his face it was frozen in an expression of shock, water droplets forming at the ends of platinum locks and rolling down his face. She did her best to keep her amusement out of her expression, but it only lasted five seconds before she dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Gods, your face!”

Rowan only stood, motions graceful and fluid and deceptively calm, and walked toward the door. When he deigned to glance over his shoulder at her, his green eyes were glimmering and he was smirking. “I do hope you remember that I know where you sleep.”

As the door quietly closed behind him, Aelin realized she would spend the rest of her bath wondering if she would come to regret her actions or if it had been completely worth it to see such shock on Rowan’s face.

~*~*~

Aelin awoke to a touch on her shoulder and blearily looked in the direction it had come from to meet green eyes filled with concern. “—been an hour, you should really be getting out now,” he was saying.

“Oh. Um. I guess I fell asleep,” she admitted sheepishly.

“That much is obvious. You know if you needed help you could’ve asked, right?”

Aelin nodded. “I do. I don’t remember trying to get out, I think I fell asleep as soon as I finished cleaning up.”

“Well, let’s get you out of here, then,” he replied, hands already reaching out to help.

Between the two of them, they managed to get Aelin out of the water and onto unsteady feet on the tile floor of the bathroom, Rowan’s hands still holding onto her elbows to help her regain her balance. She attempted to take a step toward where she had left her towel and slipped, but before she could do more than gasp in surprise his arms slid around her, pulling her into his chest to keep her upright.

As her skin brushed against his, she couldn’t help but shiver with the realization that she was still completely bare and he had never put his shirt back on. It was just that she hadn’t had anything like this in quite some time, she told herself as the thrill of his touch ran through her. It wasn’t anything to do with Rowan specifically.

Rowan finally realized how close they were and took a step back, reaching behind himself and blindly groping for the towel she’d left on the counter. Finally, he gently shoved it at her and quietly left.

When Aelin saw her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks were still slightly flushed, eyes overly bright as they followed the movement of a droplet of water down her neck and over the curve of one of her breasts. Gods, what a sight she must’ve been. No wonder Rowan had fled.

Quickly, she dried herself off and collected her clothing before hobbling back into her bedroom. She took longer than usual carefully braiding her hair away from her face, telling herself it was to give her roommate a chance to hopefully move past his discomfort and not at all to calm her own nerves.

Hobbling down the stairs with her crutches took far longer than it had to go up the stairs, and Aelin took a moment about halfway through her journey to debate the merits of just sleeping on the couch for at least another week. Just until she could put some more weight on her foot.

While she was still paused halfway down the stairs, she heard and then saw Rowan approach. Before he could get too close, though, or ask her if she needed any help, she glared until he wordlessly raised his hands in surrender and waited at the bottom of the staircase.

Finally, she managed the rest of the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief as Rowan watched her carefully. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be with only one foot,” she admitted.

“I set up a cot for you in the office,” he said quietly. “I thought it might be easier for you if you don’t have to go up the stairs as often. If you tell me what you want I can bring some of your clothes down, too. Or I could just hand them to you as they come out of the laundry you haven’t done,” he grinned.

“Hey, I’ve had a valid reason for being behind,” she muttered.

“For three months?” He ducked into the office with a grin before she could stammer out a reply, emerging with his laptop. “I’ve set a makeshift desk up for myself in the kitchen, so you can have the room to yourself.”

Aelin nodded, but rather than move into the office and inspect her new room she turned toward the kitchen. Before she had gone to take her bath, she had baked a pan of brownies, knowing that she would need the rich chocolate to get through her week with any semblance of happiness. They would be cool enough by now for her to cut one out of the pan, and if Rowan was feeling generous enough to help her set up a makeshift bed then surely he wouldn’t complain about her having just one.

She reached the counter and pulled the pan toward her, already anticipating the taste of chocolate…

Only to find a neat square already cut and removed from the exact middle of the pan.

Gods dammit, she had known she would pay for her antics when she’d splashed Rowan. But this was beyond revenge. No, this was inhuman. He probably hadn’t even eaten it, just thrown it away or relocated it to somewhere else in the kitchen.

Torn between anger and disbelief, she screeched. “Rowan!”

Her cry was only met with the sound of laughter and the sound of feet retreating up the stairs.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou

#haven writes #reluctantly rooming #rowaelin

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luxshine · 4 years ago

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The Great Supernatural Rewatch - Devil’s Trap

I started writing this Supernatural Rewatch way back when I finished season 9, due to the constant arguments about how Sam was a perfect Saint while Dean was an abusive controlling brother, versus Sam as a horrible hypocritical monster who was a thorn on Saint Dean’s side. And while I do admit I have a bias for Dean, I wanted to know if my position was based on fact and numbers, or if I was just being blinded by the fact that Jensen acted Dean a lot more empathic than Jared acted Sam.

There was also my wish to point out how many times Sam has made non-apologies because man, he is a master at those.

At some point I lost the free time I had to rewatch and tally the episodes, and the series kept going and… it ended. And it ended with such a… controversial final three episodes, that I ended back in the fandom. And at first I thought, ok, I can finish this meta with Season 1, call it a good sample for the brother’s relationship, and that’s it.

I am not sure that’s a good point to end. I kind of want to keep going and while I don’t know WHEN I will finish it (Seriously, 15 seasons are A LOT people), at least I know that as long as there’s interest (and I mostly mean MY interest, to be fair… I don’t want to give you all false hopes), I will keep going.

Because MAN, it’s amazing how the writers managed to write a semi-coherent series when they kept forgetting continuiy from one episode to the next.

So without more ado, let’s dig into Devil’s Trap and finish the first Season of Supernatural, back when everyone were babies.

General stuff

Do you have any idea how weird it is to see a The Road so Far in the last episode of the season WITHOUT Carry On my Wayward Son? Because it is and now I have the theory that they didn’t plan at all for it to become the unofficial theme of the series despite the fact that, in hindsight, the lyrics represent the boys perfectly. Except for the whole “peace when you are done” thing that was done so badly. AHEM.

In any case, this time “The Road so Far” is literally “last episode edited in a weird way to make it look as if it had been a season wide arc and just in case a week was enough for you to forget everything that happened”. I checked. There are no scenes from any other episode. So with the already established idea that we’re getting a season-wide summary, now it seems as if John had been with them since the beginning.

And now I do wonder if certain parts of the fandom only remember said Roads so Far because it would explain some things.

Anyway, we start where we left off: Sam furious at Dean because his brother didn’t let him do a kamikaze run into a house on fire, and Dean calling his father’s phone to get the call answered by a very angry Meg.

And here? Oh boy, we start with a lot of baggage for just a minute or so of story. Literally. Because the SECOND Dean realizes that the demons have their dad, he goes into strategy mood. Yes, Dean, the brother the writers insist is the dumb muscle, the one who can’t lead, the one who only knows how to follow orders. It is really frustrating to hear those lines parroted when we have this dialogue:

Dean: They’ve got Dad.

Sam: Meg? What’d she say?

Dean: I just told you, Sammy. Okay. Okay.

Dean takes the Colt and tucks it into the back of his jeans.

Sam: What are you doing, Dean?

Dean : We got to go.

Sam: Why?

Dean: Because the demon knows we’re in Salvation, all right. It knows we got the Colt. It’s got Dad – it’s probably coming for us next.

Sam: Good. We’ve still got three bullets left. Let it come.

Dean: Listen, tough guy, we’re not ready, okay? We don’t know how many of them are out there. Now, we’re no good to anybody dead. We’re leaving.... now!

I am not counting this as Dean forcing Sam to do something because it’s a logical thing to do, btw. If roles were reversed, it wouldn’t be Sam forcing Dean to do something.

Anyway, just to be impressed: While Sam, the “logical” brother who left hunting because he thought getting revenge over his dead mother was stupid (remember the Pilot? The writers don’t! ) is ready to kill himself in a western showdown with the demon as “they still have three bullets” while Dean is already making a plan. It’s not a very good plan as far as we know as it’s basically “We’ve got to run as we have no idea what’s coming”, but it’s better than “let’s stay and hope it’s only three demons”.

And the timing is also interesting: Dean has, so far, been willing to listen to Sam’s ideas in every episode. Most of the time, as we’ve seen, has let Sam plan the things. Same with John. Second John arrives, Dean takes a backseat and lets them work out the details. HOWEVER, the instant his family is in REAL danger of dying, when it’s obvious that their plans were the ones who got them there and Dean is about to lose the only people in the world he thinks give a crap about him? (Because we’ve established that Dean cares a lot about other people, and other people care for Dean even if he doesn’t believe it, even in season 1), then he’s not going to stand for their foolishness and rashness. Then it’s time to put everything he has learned (and later, much later, we’ll learn that hunting alone Dean ended up being better than his father), and make sure everyone gets out alive.

And Sam is not going to stand for that.

Well, he is, since next scene they’re driving out of dodge on the Impala, but Sam is giving us Bitchface #1 (It wasn’t that present back in season 1, it wasn’t until later when it would become Sam’s stereotypical response to anything he disliked), and he insist that they could’ve taken the Demons and that it’s most probable that John is dead.

Once again, we see the contrast between the brothers, and it’s a weird mirror to the conflict through the whole series that in theory shouldn’t work, because it is literally contradicting everything the narrative has told us about Dean and Sam for 21 episodes, but it works thanks to Jensen and Jared’s acting. I know in other meta I’ve been critical of Jared’s acting in future seasons, but here? He’s top notch.

Because we have Sam insisting that they have to keep going, try to kill the demon and “finish the job” because “it’s what Dad would’ve wanted” (Which is, except for the past tense, exactly what Dean told Sam back in Wendigo), while Dean literally says “Screw the job” and “We can’t do this alone, we need help.”

And it can’t be considered “Character growth” because for Sam it would be going backwards, and for Dean… well, it would be if it wasn’t because through the whole series he has been more interested in saving people, which is exactly what he is doing here. Finding a way to save their dad, no matter what, and revenge can take a back seat.

We also keep seeing how fast thinking he is, as at this point he already has a plan to exchange the Colt for their father, even if Sam thinks the demons have already killed John, and figure out their location by going to Lincon first.

But when Sam points out the demons may not have left any signs or clues, Dean, whom I may remind you has been painted by the script and writers as the controlling older brother who manipulates Sam and forces him to hunt, listens to Sam and agrees. They need help.

And here we get introduced to one of the mainstays of the series until season 7: Singer Auto Salvage, and Bobby Singer, Jim Beaver himself.

I could write at least other 10,000 words on why Bobby is SO important to the Supernatural Mythos, a figure akin to Joe Dawson in Highlander, to Giles in Buffy, and probably the one character that 90% of the fandom loves even if he had a couple of missteps in seasons 4 and 6. But right now is not the time to do so.

So we meet Bobby, who is immediately presented to us as a sort of opposite of Missouri, speaking about old friends of the family who are into hunting. Because Missouri obviously only tolerated Dean, and was still in good terms with John, while Bobby is introduced to us by offering Dean a drink, automatically putting him on Dean’s side, so to speak, and his relationship with John was… well, weird.

Dean: Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come.

Bobby: Nonsense. Your Daddy needs help.

Dean: Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything.

Bobby: Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people.

And truer words were never said in Supernatural Season 1. Because even if the worst of John was yet to come, about half the fandom was already agreeing with Bobby at this time.

We never find out, at least not in the series’ canon (I’ve written about what is canon, what is secondary canon), why Bobby and John had this particular conflict. Later on, fandom has decided that it was something to do with Bobby absolutely disagreeing on how John raised his kids, and to be fair, it’s the most probable reason given how much Bobby loves the Winchester’s boys and how little time he has later on to say good things about John. But here? It seems he still has some love to lose for the Winchester patriarch. Or so much for the brothers that he’s willing to forgive and forget.

Also, in what I think is another great example of old Supernatural establishing shots, we get how AMAZING Bobby is as a hunter. I mean, yes, in the future Dean and Sam will be legends, but Bobby Singer? Bobby Singer was THE Hunter. Not only his house is full with books full of lore that the guys had NEVER seen (Books that we can assume not even the Men of Letters had, given how… lackluster the Men of Letters were in the past, as we learn in season 8), but also, given that we have literally no time between Sam looking at the Key of Solomon and Meg coming bursting in, and by then Dean and Bobby ALREADY had the plan to catch her, AND the Devil Trap we see is not painted but BURNT into the ceiling? It means that Bobby HAD that Devil Trap before the brother’s came in.

It means that either he already had it despite the fact that he knew of no more than 5 demon possessions a year, except for the last one when they spiked, or the SECOND he heard that two of John Winchester’s old contacts were killed, probably by a demon? He had his house protected ENOUGH so that he could trap and interrogate a Demon should any come knocking.

Seriously, Boy Scouts have NOTHING on Bobby Singer, Hunter Extraordinaire.

And of course, that’s why he had to be fighting with John. Because if he hadn’t then we’d be questioning why the hell the brothers didn’t go to him earlier in the series as seriously, this man is amazing.

Ahem. Sorry. I get very vocal about Bobby Singer, especially early seasons Bobby Singer.

In any case, Meg comes bursting in, and while she ignores Dean at first, by telekinetically throwing him towards some books, and threatens Sam asking for the Gun, this is all part of the Brother’s plan to lure her under the Devil’s Trap.

Which, btw, is a bit weird also because I already established how we know that the trap HAD to be there BEFORE the brothers came in, but Sam seemed to be JUST finding out about it when he saw the book so either he didn’t pay attention to the plan and just stumbled into doing his part by accident (Which once again make us wonder why the writers keep doing this thing where Sam looks as uninterested in anything not related to him), or the only reason for him to ask if the circles work while READING THE BOOK instead of looking up or being, I dunno, finishing painting the trap itself, is… kinda bad writing.

I swear, I love Supernatural, but when I start picking at it, it unravels like one of my knitting projects.

And NOW we get the title card and I am in page five of this Meta so we know this is going to be long and painful.

With Meg trapped and tied, Dean goes right into interrogating her to figure out where they are keeping John. At first, he’s calm and collected, but then Meg touches a very, very sore point for Dean.

Dean: Where’s our father, Meg?

Meg: You didn’t ask very nice.

Dean: Where’s our father, bitch?

Meg: Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t.

And then, and only THEN, Dean hits her.

Which is really interesting, as Meg is the second person in the show to weaponize Mary’s memory against Dean… and the first was SAM.

Now. This is not to say that Sam is as bad as a demon –although this episode in particular ends up with a lot of parallels on how Dean’s family doesn’t treat him as nicely as some demons do- but as a very interesting parallel that the writers either tried to make or stumbled on by accident by squaring Sam DIRECTLY with the Hell side in the narrative, and thus, opening the door to Sam trying to be better, trying not to be a demon. Or at least they would if Sam had any reaction to that that wasn’t “Oh, I am confused”.

Sigh, writers. You had such a nice raw material to make a more interesting story arc for Sam than the usual Chosen One trip and you totally wasted it.

In any case, as Dean gets a bit more vicious with Meg and claims she’s not a girl, Bobby finally interferes and gives us THE line that will bring the fandom a TON of headaches later regarding meatsuits, vessels, consent and metaphors for sexual abuse that sometimes ARE metaphors for sexual abuse and sometimes aren’t because the writers weren’t thinking.

Bobby: Dean, you got to be careful with her. Don’t hurt her.

Dean: Why?

Bobby: Because she really is a girl, that’s why.

Sam: What are you talking about?

Bobby: She’s possessed. That’s a human possessed by a demon. Can’t you tell?

Now. This brings us TWO problems. One that is the aforementioned ton of headaches because no one in fandom agrees as to WHAT the writers were trying to portray with demon possessions and that in season 3 ended up with the heroes of the story becoming literal serial killers because they stopped caring for the humans being possessed because… well, reasons, I guess. But that is a continuous issue that we will discuss every time it changes so it’s not the one I want to talk about.

The SECOND problem is that Bobby IMPLIES that there are demons walking around that DON’T possess people. Because “that’s a human possessed by a demon” alone could be just establishing the rules of the world, and that’s ok since this is only the second time we have a demon standing next to the Winchesters (I still miss bungee jumping demon), but the next question “Can’t you tell?” is… problematic to say the least.

Because if he was trying to remind them that all demons on earth are possessing humans, as it will be in the future, Bobby SHOULD have said “Remember?” or “Didn’t your Dad teach you anything?” or something like that. But he says “CAN’T YOU TELL?”. Which implies a) there are demons who don’t need to possess people to walk on earth, and b) that they’re hard to distinguish from normal humans but not impossible to, as Bobby CAN tell.

And we NEVER, EVER mention that again, which is a thorn on my side as the whole meat suit/vessel thing introduced a lot of issues in the narrative by season 4 and here they had the solution to it all: To have SOME Demons and Angels possess people, and OTHERs, in particular the ones they wanted to redeem or keep in the good side, NOT need that.

But again, that’s for the future and for now, I will just tally it as a frigging dropped plot point that was about both brothers.

This is also the first time in the series where we see Dean hit a human-looking woman and the anger and rawness of the moment shocks even Sam. It’s quite noticeable, the way he and Bobby look at Dean as he is ready to keep hitting Meg, but also because it takes Meg mentioning their mother Mary to make him cross that line.

Yep, even this early on we know that you do not use Mary as an emotional weapon against Dean Winchester.

In any case, Dean takes this to be good news and immediately changes his plans, because again, the “dumb muscle” is the one who gets all the strategy.

They start exorcising Meg, trying to make her confess where the demons have John. This is a very raw scene, that puts Dean as the interrogator while Sam reads the exorcism stopping only to allow Dean to ask questions. The only time Sam interrupts is when he asks about Azazael despite Dean not caring about him at the time, and when Bobby points out that, should they exorcise the demon, they’re literally killing the girl inside as she would not have survived her fall in Shadow.

And boy, this is again a scene that could’ve been considered foreshadowing if I really believed in the “five year plan” myth because at some point, as Meg insist John was dead, Dean utters this chilling threat:

Dean: For your sake, I hope you’re lying. Cause if it’s true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!

The way Jensen delivered the line? If I had been Meg, I’d consider telling my bosses to change our plans about the Seals because it is clear he means it. Had they found John dead? No demon would’ve been spared Dean Winchester’s wrath.

I have to also give the proper credit to Nicki Aycox, Meg V 1.0. I know the fandom adores Rachel Miner, and don’t get me wrong, I do too, but Nicki made me not only fear Meg as an adversary, she also made Meg “Meg” in this scene. She is evil, manipulative and self serving. She holds out as long as she can, and then tries to play the heartstrings of the brothers, just to stay topside. She is magnificent, and as much as I love Rachel, I do wonder what would’ve been if Nicki had been called to reprise her role.

Once Dean is satisfied that he has the truth, he tells Sam to finish the exorcism, but Sam wants to keep the demon trapped to interrogate her about Yellow Eyes. It’s here when Bobby mentions that the girl, the human girl, is only alive thanks to the demon, and thus the exorcism would kill her, and here we get again to how moral Dean Winchester is, and how complicated as a hero he is to the audience.

Bobby: You said she fell from a building. That girl’s body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it – that girl is going to die.

Dean: Listen to me, both of you, we are not gonna leave her like that.

Bobby: She is a human being.

Dean: And we’re gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it.

This is, after all, an early version of “At least he dies human”. But I need to point out that he is the only one that sees what is going on with Meg (the human) as torture, as misery. Bobby and Sam, who, ironically, will be the ones in this group to know what it is to be possessed by a Demon while Dean WILL become a demon, but not be possessed by one, and won’t be possessed by an angel until season 13, 12 years up the line, seem to think that human Meg would be ok being trapped in her own body as long as she’s alive, while Dean sees what it’s going on as a horrible fate.

And human Meg agrees, because she survives the exorcism and her first words to the brothers, as she’s dying, are “Thank you”.

Once again, Nicki Aycox gives us an amazing portrayal: We know Meg is dying, we know she won’t survive enough for 911 to get there, but she is determined to give one last fuck you to the demon who did it to her. She doesn’t blame the Winchesters, instead, she wants to help. She tells them she was possessed for a year (And anyone paying attention knows that means she was possessed probably as soon as Jess died and because she looked like Sam’s type), that John is alive, and that it’s a trap.

Sam, who had been against this from the beginning, still insists on asking for yellow eyes, but Meg doesn’t know about that. She can only tell them “By the River, Sunrise” about John, and dies, while Dean looks obviously guilty and conflicted despite the fact that Meg died thanking them for her freedom.

And I pause here to give a standing ovation, to Jensen, Nicki and Kim Manners, who directed the episode and gave us such a chilling scene even if he didn’t know at the time it would help to foreshadow a LOT for the future of the show.

Once Meg is dead, Bobby sends the brothers to save John and offers to be their safe house once they do by pointing that they can bring him there, and “he won’t even try to shoot him”, which again, says tons about Bobby’s relationship to the Winchesters, and how well Jim Beaver constructed him since right then and there we know that the brothers are no longer alone. That they can come back and plan properly to get Azazael out of the game, once they save John.

Once they get to the location given by Meg and, well, human Meg, Dean starts getting ready while Sam –who until now has been quite passive in the planning- checks the Key of Salomon, loaned by Bobby and starts painting two devil traps into the trunk. This brings a very annoyed yell from Dean and the following exchange:

Dean: Dude, what are you drawing on my car!

Sam: It’s called a Devil’s trap. Demons can’t get through it or inside it.

Dean: So?

Sam: It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox.

Dean: So?

Which brings us to two very interesting things.

First, the writers REALLY need to decide who is giving exposition when, as not ten minutes ago, Sam WAS with Dean when Bobby explained the Devil Traps, AND when Bobby and Dean trapped Meg in one of them. The fact that Sam repeats this here? Makes it look as if he doesn’t trust his brother to remember that information. He didn’t need to explain to DEAN that Demons can’t get through the Trap, he needed to tell it to the audience, but the way they made it, it looks as if Sam thinks Dean is a moron.

Second: This is the FIRST time we see Dean obsessed with Baby’s well being. She’s still not called Baby, she’s still “My Car”, but it’s very interesting to see how it happens in an episode where they’re saving John when the LAST time they met with John, the thing John did to “let steam” out after arguing with Sam was to reproach Dean for how he was taking care of the Impala.

Little things that I doubt the writers, in this case the very same Eric Kripke who insisted on not keeping track of what he wrote by not having a series ‘ Bible, ever remembered but that constructed a very complex character in Dean.

My question here is, since it’s the first time we see Dean’s obsession with Baby is… Is he mad that Sam drew on her without permission? Or is he mad that he drew on her at all? WHAT was the aim for that moment from Kirpke, besides getting a start on the following argument? Why did we have to see that Sam doesn’t really considers the Impala “Dean’s car”, as much as “their car”, even if he hadn’t been around for years? Why do we have to know that Sam, in the end, doesn’t respect what Dean considers his own property, the same way he doesn’t respect Dean’s boundaries?

Mind you, this is season 1. We still haven’t gotten to the REAL conflicts between Sam and Dean, and yet we have this tiny moments where the text may be saying that Dean is the “controlling” one, but the images and the narrative show a very different take.

Which bring us to the REAL argument, which is, unfortunately, not about Dean’s boundaries but once again reveals a LOT of what will be the conflict in the future (Even if it was accidental)

Sam: So, we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad.

Dean: What are you talking about? We’re bringing the Colt with us.

Sam: We can’t, Dean. We’ve only got three bullets left. We can’t just use them on any demon, we’ve got to use them on the demon.

Dean: No, we have to save Dad, Sam, okay? We’re gonna need all the help we can get.

Sam: Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets? Dean, he wouldn’t want us to bring the gun.

Dean: I don’t care, Sam. I don’t care what Dad wants, okay? And since when do you care what Dad wants?

Sam: We want to kill this demon. You used to want that, too. Hell, I mean, you’re the one who came and got me at school! You’re the one who dragged me back into this, Dean. I’m just trying to finish it!

Dean: Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can’t wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one to bury you. You’re selfish, you know that? You don’t care about anything but revenge.

Sam: That’s not true, Dean. (Dean scoffs) I want Dad back. But they are expecting us to bring this gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. That Colt is our only leverage and you know it, Dean. We can not bring that gun. We can’t.

Dean: Fine.

Sam: I’m serious, Dean.

Dean: I said fine, Sam.

So, once again, we see the priorities of each brother are very clear. Despite Dean having lived all his life under John’s rules, in theory looking for the demon, he really doesn’t care for revenge as much. And we, as an audience, have know that since Wendigo. Sure, he will get mad if you mention Mary, especially if you do so in anger, but he doesn’t care about REVENGE. His idea is “Saving people”, making sure no one else suffers as he did. Sam, however? Doesn’t see it that way. He, despite having known Dean for longer than the audience, seems to have forgotten all the times Dean not only said that saving lives was far more important than hunting the demon (usually in fights with Sam) but also, that Dean HAS been trying to give him outs from the hunting life at least for three episodes now (Which, depending on how the timeline works, could be between four and two months).

Sam, despite it all, doesn't know his brother, doesn’t care to know his brother, and is very eager to blame Dean for what was, in the end, Sam’s own choice. He forgets that Dean only asked him for help in ONE hunt, and that the rest were chosen by Sam as he wanted to avenge Jess.

It’s only when Dean lays out clearly that what he wants is his family safe, that he doesn’t want to lose them to the demon as he lost Mary (something that Sam would know if he had listened to half of what Dean said to stop him from going into the fire in the last episode, but I digress), when Sam finally brings out some logic to his argument, and shows the makings of a plan: The demons expect them, and expect them to have the gun, so it’s obviously a trap. It’s only then when Dean, not quite convinced, agrees and leaves the Gun, even as Sam seems to want to keep arguing even after he won.

Once again, funny how we’re told Sam is the one “Forced” by Dean to do things, when Dean capitulates more often than not, isn’t it?

(Yes, I know that Dean DID end up taking the gun, so, in case you’re wondering, no, I am not tallying this as Sam forcing Dean to do something, but it IS important to notice WHEN Dean capitulated, even if it was just an act)

The brothers leave baby behind and start walking through the city, until Dean spots a building named Sunrise, putting together the description demon Meg gave them and the last clue human Meg said. Sam points out this puts them at a disadvantage, since the demons know how they look while anyone inside could be a demon and they have no way of knowing who (I mean, it’s not as if there was a word they could say to figure it out, right? This is exactly what I mean when I say that the series needed a series bible from day one. How could they forget “Christo” in less than 12 episodes?) so Dean figures out a quick plan: they will pull the fire alarm, get the civilians out, and then sneak in while the firefighters are figuring out what’s going on.

Which brings us back to “Dean makes the plans, but Sam is the SMART brother”. Sigh.

The plan goes without a hitch, with the extra step of Dean pretending to live there to distract a fireman while Sam steals two uniforms. I love that scene, because Dean’s act as a worried owner for his dog –despite my long held, but debunked headcanon that Dean is more of a cat person- is perfect.

As the brothers get inside the building, we get another tidbit of Dean’s backstory that has been completely forgotten by writers and fans alike, at least in fan fic, that I need to point out because it goes again to show how little Sam cared to get to know his brother, despite “the brotherly bond” being the high selling point of the series:

Dean: I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up.

Sam: You never told me that.

And boy, there’s a lot to unpack here and we’re already in page 13 of this thing in word. I swear, this series makes me want to unravel every little thread.

First of, the fact that Dean specifically WANTED to be a fireman is quite telling: After all, firemen were the ones who saved the Winchester’s house, if not the Winchesters themselves, when Mary died. It’s not an admiration born out of being taken out of the burning house –we know Dean was already on his way out with Sammy and John did the extra steps of carrying them both before the house exploded- but it’s still a very interesting thing that, had he not been a hunter, he’d be fighting the OTHER thing that killed his mother. A job that is literally “Saving people”. (and as an aside, I really wonder why the hell whenever people write Dean in AUs where he’s not a hunter, more often than not he’s a Mechanic while Firefighter Dean is quite rare)

Second, Sam’s claim that Dean “never told him that”. I don’t if you’ve been around kids, but once they choose “what they want to be when they grow up” they DON’T SHUT UP about it. Be it something realistic, like Veterinary or Astronaut, or yes, Firefighter, or something completely fantastic like Dinosaur tamer, or Unicorn breeder? Kids will TELL you about it. And everyone who cares to listen or not to listen. So either Sam simply forgot all the times Dean expressed admiration for Firefighters, or even wanting to be one or saying “if we weren’t hunters, I’d totally go to Firefighter training”, which doesn’t say much about Sam’s interest in his brother, or Dean simply never expressed said desire out loud because he knew, even when he was 7, that he’d never get to be anything but his father’s soldier, and just ignored the fact that maybe hunting was not his life.

And I don’t know which one is more depressing, to be honest.

We don’t get Dean’s reply to Sam’s claim however, as his amazing homemade EMF reads high activity.

I have to admit, seeing the brothers so young, so ignorant of what’s going on, and still having a perfect plan to fight whatever it is that they need to fight? It reminds me of why I kept watching the series despite my distaste for “chosen one” narratives. I mean, let’s break it down since we’re already way past the “too long” limit: They covered their faces, so they can win a couple of seconds against the demons, despite knowing the demons would fight any human no matter what. They use the door of the apartment as a first shield so they can use the water tanks that come WITH their disguises, filled with holy water and use that to disorient the demons, far stronger than them, to lock them in a closet and then line the closet with salt so that the demons can’t get out.

Two demons down, no causalities.

Dean gets into the room where the demons kept John, tied to a bed, and confirms that he’s breathing. Before he can free John, Sam stops him to remind him that John could be possessed and, just to make sure, throws holy water at their dad, who doesn’t starts smoking immediately, so they continue their plan to free him, sure that it’s John –who is completely out of it. Sort of awake, yes, but so full of drugs that he’s basically dead weight.

Outside, demons possess a man and a firefighter to go and chase the brothers, who manage to escape through the fire escape (The demonic possession, btw, is a lot more discrete and less dramatic than when the bungee jumping demon did it, which will come into play in a few minutes). Outside, as Sam is checking how to run away, he’s attacked by the same demon that shot Meg, who starts hitting him so hard that Sam can’t defend himself, and force-throws Dean away –after Dean left John sitting next to the building, alone and unprotected.

But before he can make Sam into a pulp, he’s shot in the head and dies. The camera pans to a grave looking Dean, holding the Colt.

This whole sequence is shot and directed beautifully, so please, another minute of silence to the memory of Kim Manners, the best damn director Supernatural ever had.

Next we know, the brothers are holed up in a cabin in the woods, and Sam is salting the windows. WHY didn’t they go directly to Bobby? Well, Sam asks if they could’ve been followed, and Dean replies he doesn’t think so, so I believe it’s implied they didn’t want to put Bobby in more danger, but let’s be honest, it’s because at Bobby’s house with the Devil Trap and all, the following scene would be impossible.

And here’s where the pain starts.

Sam thanks Dean for saving his life, not realizing that Dean is being haunted by that action. At that point, Dean, who later will be known as “emotional repressed” by most of the fandom, writers, and people involved in the show, opens up immediately about the problem:

Dean: You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there.

Sam: You didn’t have a choice, Dean.

Dean: Yeah, I know, that’s not what bothers me.

Sam: Then what does?

Dean: Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even flinch. For you or Dad, the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just, uh .... it scares me sometimes.

What Dean doesn’t say, but that we can see in Jensen’s acting, is that what he did was kill an innocent (Well, two in his mind, although he didn’t kill Meg AND the human Meg thanked him for letting her die human, but Dean is not seeing that difference and Sam is not going to point it out). For Sam and John, not for Revenge, Dean is willing to break his own ethos. And this is important to point out, because it will be the main conflict and drive of the series from here on: There’s ABSOLUTELY NOTHING Dean won’t do for those he considers family. And as he says himself? It scares him because of what it says about him.

And while I have said before that I know that the writers had absolutely no plan for Dean besides “Sam’s Sidekick” at this point of the series? I can absolutely believe that this scene was the seed to the “Righteous Man” arc, because Dean, in the end, can’t forgive himself for killing an innocent, not even for the Greater Good (just as he can’t stand the idea of someone dying for him, as we learned in Faith)

John comes in, and well, let’s rip this bandaid right away. As he tells a VERY uncomfortable Dean that he’s proud of him for saving them, there are signs that the demon is close. Noticing this, both brothers default to John’s orders who immediately gets Sam out of the room, ordering him to check that he salted all doors and windows, and once Sam is away, asks Dean for the Colt.

Dean, after a small hesitation, lifts the gun and points it at John, because he knows that it’s not his father the one who’s at the wheel.

Sam comes in, and while he doubts Dean’s claim that John is possessed –mostly because Dean’s only reasoning at this point is “He’s different” –he comes to Dean’s side. Unfortunately, as John dares Dean to kill him, he also realizes that the jig is up, so he stops pretending, and shows his yellow eyes in all their glory, pining both Sam and Dean to the wall.

This makes Dean drop the Colt, so the demon picks it up.

Azazael (because let’s be honest, we all know his name so why keep calling him John or Yellow Eyes?) taunts Sam when Sam tells him he’s going to kill him, and puts the Colt down, daring Sam to make it “fly to him”. Meanwhile, he puts all his attention to Dean, because he wanted to kill him specifically using John’s body as revenge for exorcising Meg and killing the other demon, because they were his son and daughter.

I make a note here to point out this is the very last time we hear about demons having families, and the fact that Meg is still alive doesn't even register in Azazael’s future episodes. Same as the idea that demons could NOT possess humans, and the series mythology is already a mess.

Sam asks why, and Azazael points out he killed Jess and Mary because they were “getting in the way” of his plans for “children like him”. Dean interrupts to call the attention of Azazael into him again, and manages to turn the tables emotionally a bit, when he reminds the demon that he killed his kids.

Which is when Azazael starts using his powers to make Dean bleed, and Dean begins yelling for John to fight the demon and save his life.

And it WORKS, which I will not tally officially, but I should mention it’s the first of many times when Dean’s voice in pain makes someone get the strength they need to fight a possession.

John manages to fight Azazael’s for control long enough to free Sam, who shoots Azazael on the knee, which disrupts Azazael’s powers long enough to get Dean free. Then John begs Sam to kill him, as he can still feel Azazael inside, but just as Sam gets ready to do so, to “put an end to everything”, Dean begs Sam not to do it. And for once, Sam listens to Dean and lowers the gun, giving Azazael a chance to escape, leaving a very angry John behind.

As the only member of the family not currently bleeding from new holes, we end the episode with Sam driving the Impala, John in shotgun and Dean, half unconscious, in the back. Sam is asking Dean to resist, as the hospital is ten minutes away (despite they being “in the middle of nowhere” five seconds ago), while John is complaining that Sam didn’t kill him, because “Killing this demon comes first” while Sam, who ended last episode saying the exact same thing, repeats what Dean managed to get into his head “No, sir. Not before everything.”

However, we don’t get to breathe easily, as a eighteen wheeler slams the Impala at full speed, and we end the episode looking at the possessed driver and the bloody, unconscious bodies of the Winchester.

How’s THAT for a season finale?

Violence

Despite everything that happened in the episode, that was a lot, there’s no inter-brother violence here, and no violence from John towards his sons (Azazael is a different story). Given how heavy the episode feels? I am counting this as a nice win.

Emotional Violence

I will admit, this is one of the episodes I was dreading because I knew it was going to be painful. It was going to be painful revisiting it after season 11’s premiere, and now that the series is over? It’s heartbreaking. And it all comes to one single phrase by Dean:

He wouldn’t be proud of me, he’d tear me a new one.

But let’s start at the beginning of said scene. I mentioned before that when “John” praises Dean, Dean looks visibly uncomfortable.

John: It shouldn’t. You did good.

Dean: You’re not mad?

John: For what?

Dean: Using a bullet.

Dean swallows before asking if John is not mad, and John looks honestly confused as to why Dean would think he’d be mad. It starts like a perfect moment to mend the issues, especially as John continues with what may be the nicest thing anyone said to Dean in the whole season:

John: Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you – you watch out for this family. You always have.

Something that later will get repeated by many characters, the narrative itself, and will become Dean’s most defining trait. But at the moment, Dean only looks even more uncomfortable, and just mumbles a pained thanks.

And while WE don’t know it yet, that’s the exact moment in which Dean knows he’s not talking to John. And upon rewatch, it’s noticeable that Dean is not swallowing, but that his jaw tightens. He knows he and Sam are in danger, that he needs to save his father, and that he needs to play along.

But I am not analyzing this on the normal summary because it’s also a very difficult moment for Dean, because for the first time in the series, someone is weaponizing his love for his family against him, and Dean CAN’T react as he usually does. He shows growth here, by biding his time.

Dean: Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared.

John: This is me. I won’t miss. Now, the gun, hurry… Son, please.

This is the breaking point. Before, when it was just John saying that he was proud of him, Dean was just uncomfortable. But the SECOND John says “please” instead of ordering Dean to hand over the Colt? That’s when Dean steps back and gets in a defensive position. And once again, without lines, we get ton of implied things.

Like, probably Dean was hoping he was wrong, that John would really be proud of him for saving Sam. That if John wasn’t possessed when they found him, the demon had gotten in him when Dean left him alone to save Sam (we later know that’s not true, it’s just that Azazael is such a sparkly magical demon he can resist holy water). That John would never, in a thousand years, ask Dean nicely for something.

And so, he raises the gun and voices his suspicions and seals the fact that John Winchester was a terrible father:

Dean: He’d be furious.

John: What?

Dean: That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn’t be proud of me, he’d tear me a new one. You’re not my Dad.

Sam arrives, and hesitates a second before siding with Dean, whose eyes are brimming with tears as he keeps the Colt pointed at John’s body. Which is when Azazael twists the knife a little bit more into Dean’s heart:

John: Fine. You’re both so sure, go ahead. Kill me.

Which Dean, of course, can’t do.

Later on, during the torture as Azazael is slowly killing Dean with horrible scratches in his chest that can’t but remind me of the hellhounds from the future seasons (Despite knowing it wasn’t planned), Azazael delivers yet another horrible line that will define Dean’s story arc for the next 15 seasons.

John: You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam – he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you.

Which is a half truth, as demons lie. Fact is, without Dean? Sam would’ve killed John. Or gotten himself killed long before this moment. And we know that Dean hunted more or less alone for four years, and, in hindsight and thanks to future episodes, that Dean flourished without John and Sam around (unless he believed Sam was dead, but that’s a different situation that will be addressed in season 6). But yeah, Sam is John’s favorite, and John has shown more concern, even in these episodes, than for Dean.

And while we will speak more of this in the next season, for now, it only ends with the fact that the biggest hurt that Dean got in the whole episode was that no-one contradicted Azazael at all. John, in particular, may have been able to fight Azazael upon hearing how Dean was suffering, but after that he never once said anything about Dean’s well being.

Speeches and Apologies

There are no big speeches here to analyze, except for Dean’s realization that he will do anything for his family. But as I already went on an on about that, we can consider this section vacant for the episode.

Double narrative standards

It’s very interesting to note how the brothers, and thus, the writers, used to deal with demons back then. The fact that Dean killed one (and exorcised another, even when that only meant she got expelled from the body she was occupying and sent back to hell, even if Azazael acts as if she had been killed) is seen by Dean and the narrative as a crime: He killed an innocent, even if said innocent at the time was being an instrument to harm Sam. The fact that Sam has, many times before, acted as if bystanders were acceptable losses is never once mentioned, and thus, the narrative seems to want us to believe that the only Winchester directly with blood in his hands is Dean –because even when John begs Sam to “shoot him in the heart”, Sam doesn’t. Never mind that Sam doesn’t because at the same time, Dean is begging him not to shoot, while Dean didn’t need said reassurance to being unable to shot John previously AND judging himself for exorcising Meg.

Final Tally

This was the last episode of the season, and oh, boy, the numbers are quite surprising to be completely honest. While you can check the actual numbers below, I want to point out that Dean didn’t lie to Sam or anyone else for that matter in the whole season, nor tried to manipulate or force Sam into doing things at all. He made fun in a mean way Six times in total, versus 31 different occasions in which Sam demeaned and made fun of Dean’s habits or stuff. Six versus 31, that gives us a difference of 25, which is quite the lead for “the empathic” brother.

Most telling, despite the idea that Dean “always” was controlling and overbearing, we have 7 different occasions in which Dean respects Sam’s boundaries, against 14 times when Sam doesn’t respect Dean’s. In the same vein, we have 5 different occasions in which Sam blamed Dean for something Dean didn’t do, while Dean has not blamed Sam for anything Sam didn’t do.

Finally, for all the talk of the series being “about two brothers” in the beginning, we have that the season is divided in 7 arc episodes dedicated solely to Sam, 6 filler episodes dedicated to Sam and his needs and backstory, NO arc episodes dedicated to Dean, 4 filler episodes dedicated to Dean, and 3 arc episodes dedicated to both brothers (Or none, meaning that it’s about just advancing the plot). Also, there were 2 plotlines about Sam introduced that were later discarded and never mentioned, versus 1 about Dean, which in general proves that, at least as far as Season 1 goes? Dean was not treated as a main character at all, as the majority of the Season was ALL about SAM.

Let’s see how this continues in Season 2.

Numbers (or the TL;DR summary)

(Episode/Total so far)

Times Dean has lied to Sam or to a loved one: 0 / 0

Times Sam has lied to Dean or to a loved one: 0 / 3

Times Dean has been caught in a lie: 0 / 0

Times Sam has been caught in a lie: 0 / 1

Times Dean has hit Sam in anger: 0 / 1

Times Sam has hit Dean in anger: 0 / 4

Times Dean's lies or secrets have caused someone's death: 0 / 0

Times Sam's lies or secrets have caused someone's death: 0 / 1

Times Dean has abandoned (Or wanted to abandon) a hunt in the middle for his own needs: 0 / 0

Times Sam has abandoned (Or wanted to abandon) a hunt in the middle for his own needs: 0 / 7

Times Dean forced Sam to do something: 0 / 0

Times Sam forced Dean to do something: 0 / 7

Secrets kept by Dean: 0 / 1

Secrets kept by Sam: 0 / 2

Times Dean has blamed Sam for something: 0 / 0

Times Sam has blamed Dean for something: 1 / 5

Times Dean has apologized with words to Sam: 0 / 3

Times Sam has apologized with words to Dean: 0 / 2

Times Dean has respected Sam's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 7

Times Sam has respected Dean's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 0

Times Dean hasn't respected Sam's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 0

Times Sam hasn't respected Dean's boundaries and / or rules: 1 / 14

Times Dean has made fun of something Sam does or has: 0 / 6

Times Sam has made fun of something Dean does or has: 0 / 31

Times we focus on Dean's needs: 0 / 1

Times we focus on Sam's needs: 0 / 6

Arc episodes dedicated to Sam: 0 / 7

Filler episodes dedicated to Sam: 0 / 6

Arc episodes dedicated to Dean: 0 / 0

Filler episodes dedicated to Dean: 0 / 4

Arc episodes dedicated to both brothers (or to none): 1 / 3

Filler episodes dedicated to both brothers (or to none): 0 / 2

Dean's Dropped Plotlines: 0 / 1

Sam's Dropped Plotlines: 0 / 2

Mythology Dropped Plot points: 1/1

#The Great Supernatural Rewatch #Supernatural meta #spn meta #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Cardboard Borechester #John Winchester #is a terrible father #Bobby Singer #season 1 #1x21 #Devil's Trap

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hardcorehardigan · 4 years ago

Photo

[Cover: GREG WILLIAMS/AUGUST IMAGES]

Tom Hardy interview and exclusive David Bailey shot

By DANIELLE DE WOLFE

02 September 2015

ShortList meets the British actor who took on the Kray twins and won. Plus an exclusive image of the actor taken by the inimitable David Bailey.

Interviewing Tom Hardy is not like interviewing other film stars. From the moment he arrives – alone, dressed down in hiking trousers and black T-shirt, puffing away on a complex-looking digital e-cigarette – it is immediately clear this is not someone who will be exhibiting any kind of on-promotional-duties polish. He is very, very nice (I get a hug at the end of the interview), but there is unmistakably a wired edginess about him. When we sit down, it starts like this:

Me: I’m going to start with an obvious question, which is… Hardy: Have you seen the film? Me: Yes. I… Hardy: Right, well that’s the first question, then. The second one is, “What did you think?” I tell him I loved it, and why, and he is pleased (“That’s a f*cking result!”). When we move on to me asking him questions, his answers – again, in contrast to other film stars, with whom the game is to get them to veer slightly away from prepared, succinct monologues – are smart and eloquent, but long, drawn-out and enjoyably all over the place, veering off into tangents prompted by thoughts that have clearly just formulated. At the end of our allotted time, we are told to wind it up not once but twice, and even then he is still going, launching into theories about American versus British gangster films and life and humanity and such things (“Sorry man, I can talk for f*cking ever!” he laughs). He will be talking with a seriousness and sincerity (“All the risk was taken by [writer and director] Brian [Helgeland], to be fair…”), then will switch without warning into a piercing, mock-hysterical falsetto (“…letting me PLAY BOTH F*CKING ROLES, MAN!”).

In fact, briefly, while we’re on the subject of the way he speaks…

Tom Hardy’s normal speaking voice is not something we have been privy to onscreen. Since he delivered – whatever your opinion of it – the most imitated cinematic voice of the decade in The Dark Knight Rises, we haven’t come close. That thick Welsh accent in Locke, The Drop’s quiet Brooklyn drawl, the Russian twang in Child 44: we just never hear it. And this might be because it doesn’t exist. It’s five years ago, but if you watch his Jonathan Ross appearance in 2010, where he is very well spoken, he confesses he “sometimes picks up accents, and sometimes I don’t know how I’m going to sound until I start speaking”. If you then watch another video of a feature on GMTV, dated just a month previous, while addressing some young people from troubled backgrounds as part of his charity work with the Prince’s Trust, he is speaking to them in a south London street kid drawl. Today, in the flesh, he is about halfway between these two.

A natural-born chameleon.

Tom Hardy shot by David Bailey for ShortList

BEING DOUBLE

The role we are here to discuss today does not, by Tom Hardy’s own standards at least, involve a huge stretch accent-wise. But it is “the hardest thing that I’ve ever done, technically”. This is because, as mentioned, he plays not one role, but two. In the same film. You will likely have seen the posters for Legend by now, depicting Hardy as both of the Kray twins. Which seems an ambitious, almost foolhardy undertaking.

Hardy agrees. “It is one of them situations,” he says. “You get an actor to play two characters, and immediately, it’s pony. It’s gonna be rubbish. Just: no. It’s a bad idea.”

This particular “bad idea” came to him when he first met writer and director Brian Helgeland (who had previously written screenplays for – no biggie – LA Confidential and Mystic River) for dinner. Brian wanted Hardy to play Reggie (the hetero, alpha male, more-straight-down-the-line Kray). Hardy, though, had read the script, and of course, being Tom Hardy, was drawn to the more complex character. “I was like, ‘Well, I feel Ronnie,’” he says. “So which actor am I gonna give up Ronnie to, if I play Reggie? Errrrrggh…. I can’t have that. ’Cos that’s all the fun there! And Reggie’s so straight! But there was a moment when I could have come away just playing Reggie. We could have gone and found a superlative character actor to play Ronnie, and that would have been the best of everything."

But Helgeland sensed the dissatisfaction in his potential leading man. “I’m sitting there thinking, ‘Oh, he wants to play Ron,’” he tells me. “And the paraphrased version is that by the end of the dinner, I said, ‘I’ll give you Ron if you give me Reg.’”

And so began their quest to turn a risky, potentially disastrous idea into something special (as Brian puts it to me, “the movie’s either gone right or gone wrong before anyone even starts working on it”). Hardy found some comfort in Sam Rockwell’s two-interacting-characters performance in Moon. “I’m a big fan of Sam,” he says.

“And Moon gave me reason to go, ‘I know it’s possible to hustle with self, to create a genuine dialogue with self.’ So then it’s the technical minefield: can you authentically create two characters within a piece at all? So that the audience can look past that and engage in the film? It is what it is: it’s two characters played by the same actor. But I think we got to a point where people forget that and are genuinely watching the story."

This was the ‘why I liked the film’ reasoning I gave to him at the beginning of the interview. And it is a remarkable performance, or pair of performances, or triumph of technical direction. The opening shot features both Tom Hardy Krays sitting in the back of a car, and feels strange, but very quickly, within about 10 or 15 minutes, you settle into it, and forget that it is actually the same guy. This was made possible, in part, by Hardy’s stunt double from Mad Max: a New Zealander named Jacob Tomuri.

“He inherited the hardest job of my career,” Hardy grins. “I put on a pair of glasses, played every scene with Ron, then took ’em off and played Reg. And we went through every scene in the film, recording it on the iPhone. So he’s got every scene of me doing both characters, on his iPhone. He actually played both brothers, had to learn all of the lines. He was paying attention twice as hard to keep up. But he superseded that, and was eventually ad-libbing. There’s a line that ended up in the film, where Ronnie goes, ‘I bent him up like a pretzel, I hurt him really f*cking badly.’” “Where did that come from?!” Hardy shrieks, in that falsetto again. “It came from New Zealand."

The wife’s tale

The other big potential pitfall, as Hardy sees it, was contributing to the ongoing glamorisation and eulogising of two brothers who were, to say the least, not very nice. Somehow they have become almost as iconic a piece of the Sixties puzzle as the Beatles or the Stones. But this was not something that Legend would be setting out to reinforce. “One has to approach these things thinking about the families of the victims who were involved in the other end of it,” he says. “Before you find the heart to like somebody, you’ve gotta look at their track record as best as possible: the people who’ve been hurt, the bodies, the suffering, people who were bullied, who lived in terror, who lost significant parts of their lives in the wake of these two men. There’s a lot of sh*t to wade through. And a lot of people who do not, quite rightly, want to see anything to do with these two men. And if I were them, I wouldn’t want to be involved myself, but there’s also part of me that wants to know. That wants to get under the skin.”

So how do you go about doing that? About humanising, to any extent, such people?

“I think the first port of call is, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do and say whatever you wanted to do and say in the world, regardless of the ramifications and the consequences?’ Ultimately, when I – we – go to the cinema or read a book or we go to escape, we respond to certain types of characters that go, ‘F*ck it: I’m gonna do whatever I want.'

And that’s because we can’t. Because most people would feel a responsibility.”

The answer to how Legend would do this came in the shape of a person who did feel some responsibility, namely Frances Shea: the troubled wife of Reggie, who died in 1967. Played by Emily Browning, she became the centre of the film when Helgeland met Krays associate Chris Lambrianou, who told him that “Frances was the reason we all went to prison”.

“We could have put more of the carnage and the crimes in that film,” says Hardy. “Not to say that it is not there, but what you do see, really, is Reggie, Ronnie and Frances. That’s the dynamic we focused on, that space, which hasn’t been seen before. What was that dynamic like? I don’t know if we came anywhere near the truth, because we weren’t there. But that was the playing field, if you like: Frances Shea, future ahead of her, caught up in something, and no one with her, the suicide. That sits with me in a way as the lead. She’s who we forgot. Ronnie, Reggie, they’ve done their bit. Frances was forgotten. And that kind of all ties it together for me."

FUTURE LEGENDS

The initial praise for Legend has been plentiful, but the mindset of Tom Hardy right now is such that he does not have the time to bask in it. There are other quite ludicrously challenging projects to be pressing ahead with. Coming in autumn is The Revenant, starring his good friend Leonardo DiCaprio and directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu of Birdman fame. Its trailer, as well as doing the not-going-anywhere trend for big beards no harm whatsoever, suggests that it will also match Mad Max in terms of an unrelenting barrage of intensity. Further into the future there’s the Elton John biopic Rocketman (initial challenge? Hardy “can’t sing”) and another foray into comic-book adaptation with 100 Bullets (news of which broke just after our interview).

And right now, as in this week, he’s working on a BBC series called Taboo, which is set in 1813 and stars Hardy as an adventurer who comes back from Africa and builds a shipping empire. The story has been developed by his production company Hardy Son & Baker (formed with his father, Chips) and has been written and directed by Locke/Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight, with Ridley Scott also exec producing.

“We’re sat on something really awesome,” says Hardy. “And it’s trying to piece it together. I’ve never produced anything before, so I basically don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ve got some options and solutions: if you say something is not working, you better come up with at least four other options. But it’s good. It’s just different.”

Another day, another big challenge. Another chance to do something different. It isn’t an easy life being Tom Hardy. But neither will it ever a boring one, and that’s good news for us.

Legend is at cinemas from 9 September

Words: Hamish MacBain. Images: David Bailey, Studio Canal

You can also read the Hardy interview in this week's ShortList Magazine. It'd be a crime to miss it.

Source: https://www.shortlist.com/news/tom-hardy-interview-and-exclusive-david-bailey-shot

#shortlist #bewareoftheman #tomhardydoesntbiteunlesstherolerequiresit #tomhardy #interview #exclusive #davidbailey #shot #danielledewolfe #september2015 #legend #gregwilliamsphotography

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wolffin1 · 4 years ago

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Raymond Reddington theory part 2 Intelligence gathering is often a family business.

People play off the "Scott" connection but it's probably significant and I would think it ties Sam to Scotty.

I've often believed the complete lack of family history in the show for RR is for a reason, and I think it is something we haven't seen because it would give to much away. It makes no sense that Liz, a person longing for answers her whole life about her biological family, and after she finds out RR is her biological father she doesn't at the very least start working up a family tree? Doesn't make any sense at all.

In the original pilot script," Raymond “Red” Reddington grew up the son of an army brat " Back to the point historically American Intelligence in its beginnings, a good portion of its founding can be found tied to a family. There is an Easter egg nod to this when the Major tells Tom he was the only failure from the "St. Regis" project. Some might remember it as a hotel from James Bond movies and novels etc, but it has historical significance to American history and Intelligence gathering. You can read this article for more information. https://www.6sqft.com/highly-elegant-and-highly-classified-the-history-of-espionage-at-the-st-regis/

Oleander was in the states to be a spy and do spy things. Katerina had to at least be partially raised in the states. When Dom fled Russia I highly doubt he was able to package up family mementos etc. to bring back to the US with him they were already here. The board game was American in Katarina's childhood belongings. Where would Dom want to live in the US and do some spying? He would pick a place he could rub elbows with military and or agency connections. It's my belief that Scotty, Sam, RR, Katarina, and Ilya all grew up knowing another. That's why I think Dom sent Katarina to turn RR, they had a history and he knew RR loved her.

I'll go a step further. How do you think Red knows that Tom is Scottie's son? How do you think he knew to grab the "older" gentleman that was an ambassador who was under deep cover assignment for the Major and knew he would have a number to contact the Major? Put this into perspective the Hargraves who own a fantastical private contract Intelligence gathering company have no idea about their son. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to see the Hargraves were targeted for their son to be taken due to their family profession it was a given their child would most likely have innate skill suited to the profession. The Major probably stole their son threw him into the system of foster care to make him hard and have no family ties and later recruit him. Red and Scottie are familiar with each and their conversations point to them having a history. Red says he never liked her. Scottie has a picture of Carla Reddington.

It would seem obvious by now that RR has a connection to the Major, close enough to go to the Major for someone to watch Elizabeth and the Major would obviously have trust in RR for RR to know that Tom is the Hargraves missing son, add that to knowing about the ambassador, etc. RR has intimate first-hand knowledge of the Major's organization. Why do you think RR gave Liz the scar and it matches the symbol on the boxes and was Branded in Minister D's face, it was Liz that implied it was Katarina that gave him that scar Minister D never confirmed it. I think it was most likely RR that gave him that scar because he is tied to the Major and his organization in some way.

Was RR ever a boring pencil pusher? You mean the guy who acquired the information to bring down the Cabal, and who was shadowing Russians gathering intelligence and was captured by a Spetsnaz team? Anton Velov a spetsnaz group leader said during RR's time in American Intelligence he was the KGB's Greatest Threat. Boring? He sounds like James Bond. Maybe they met at the St. Regis(all puns intended).

It wouldn't surprise me if it turned out he used Katarina in some way to gain Russian secrets. Forget interviews they aren't going to drop anything useful and after you read enough of them the responses from people like JB are always from the point of view of an audience member that's seeing what they are steered to see. The most honest thing he has ever said is “I think it’s best to let the show and its characters answer that. Anything that’s meaningful is in the scripts and on the screen. EVERYTHING ELSE IS NOISE.” -Jon Bokenkamp. In other words don't be distracted by the noise. This show is all about the art of misdirection.

It's strange Cooper didn't seem to notice any difference in personality in Raymond when he first saw him after he turned himself in, the only thing he said was it's really him, and having known him it seems it would be significant if his personality was different. Red was being his normal charismatic self with Cooper. Wouldn't cooper have noticed the difference?

When Naomi/Carla tells Elizabeth that he isn't who she thinks he is, isn't meant in the way everyone takes it and is part of the misdirection that is happening in the show. Think back to the Psychologist Red saw when he was on trial and she said. “while most people see you as a, uh, ICONIC BAD GUY, YOU’RE REALLY JUST AN IMPOSTER.” I believe what Naomi/Carla said is in the same vein. She was trying to tell Liz that he isn't the person he "portrays" himself to be not that he isn't Raymond Reddington, he is portraying himself differently than he truly is or at the very least as he once was. I think that's why Dembe is determined to save his soul, he is an anchor for Red to not get completely lost in the persona he portrays himself as.. If this true then Naomi/Carla was speaking of RR that she married when she spoke about RR and women's heads and her revulsion to him working with Elizabeth and their familiarity with one another after they haven't seen each other in decades and his sincere display of feelings for a former lover when she was departing all make sense.

In season six they scanned Red's hands as he was incarcerated, they took the time to show the screen with the scanned prints matching the paper copy prints from season one which is from 1989, and before Raymond Reddington went missing. Did he ever really die? The bones could have been implanted with DNA we have seen this in the show, part of a backup plan to disappear? He did tell Elizabeth that he could disappear at a moment's notice, that he sells that particular package.

Why did Kaplan tell Katarina she was sorry, because in her mind she failed to protect Elizabeth. Why give the bones to Elizabeth if they aren't RR's? To set Liz on the path for answers because she knew once Liz started she would never stop.

People bring up Jennifer and he treated her very differently than Liz. A lot of difference between a grown woman in her 30's that he hadn't seen since she was a child from over two decades in the past and had been safe in obscurity, she was estranged from him, and he didn't look at her the same as he did Liz, whom he had watched her whole life and needed to be watched and protected and was more or less orphaned and still in danger. The more he stays out of Jennifer's life the safer Jennifer is. His indifference is just appearance by keeping her away from him he is actually keeping her safe where he feels he has to be involved in Liz’s to keep her safe.

#The Blacklist #the blacklist raymond reddington #Raymond Reddington #Red Reddington

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brianprobablywill · 5 years ago

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Just Like This (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

summary: joe helps you out when you need his help for extra credit, but you have no idea how your night will end.

joe x reader, 1.8k words, fluff

warnings: none

author’s note: this is for @royally-rogers‘ s follower challenge!! jacqueline is lovely, you should definitely check her out and give her a follow!!! she’s been super kind in offering me an extension to submit my piece, and here it finally is!! thanks, jacqueline, for letting me take part in your challenge, and for being an awesome frined <3 enjoy!

“No, no, Y/N, you have to feel it.”

“Fine.” You cross your arms across your chest for the hundredth time that evening, trying to feel it. “It’s almost midnight, where were you?”

Joe looks like he’s about had it. He throws his script onto the sofa, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you actually care about where I’ve been?”

“Huh?”

“It’s almost midnight.” Joe juts his chin out, looking at you incredulously. “You have to care about where I’ve been, damn it!”

You’re about to snap too, tell him that acting is not your thing, but the sound of a door opening stops you.

“Whoa, hey.” Ben steps out of his room, glasses perched delicately on his nose. “I’m trying to study.”

“And so are we.” Joe retorts.

Hardly. You’re only filling in for one play that your college was organising. You really didn’t want to, but participation is a big deal and you’re not going to slack in any area, no sir. This is just something you have to do.

“Keep it down,” your roommate hisses. “These definite integrals are hell.”

Joe scoffs. “Okay, electrical engineering.”

Ben doesn’t leave before flipping Joe the bird, but once the moment to his bedroom door is shut, Joe turns his attention back to you. “Okay.” He turns his eyes to the ceiling, presumably to work out a plan for what to do about your predicament.

You’re busy picking at the aglet of your converse when Joe exclaims, “Yes!” You watch as he makes his way towards where you were sat on the couch.

Crouching in front of you, he begins, “We’re friends, aren’t we?” His hands come to lay flat on your thighs, sending a wave of electricity through your body.

You nod, letting his eyes make direct contact with yours.

“Close your eyes for a minute.”

You do.

“And imagine we’re a couple.”

“Oh, no.” Your eyes are open within an instant, looking at Joe, alarmed.

“Hey!” he holds up his hands in defence. “I didn’t think the idea disgusted you that much.” He looks down at his feet, scoffing lightly.

“No!” you’re quick to respond, twisting your hands together in your lap.

Joe nods, waiting for you to back your answer with some more substance. When you don’t, he asks, “And?”

“Huh?”

“No, what?” He shakes his head. “No, you’re really sweet; no, it’s not like that… no?”

“It’s not like that.” your response is weak.

Truth is, the idea of dating Joe isn’t disgusting to you at all. Not one bit. It’s almost a little tempting, letting him know how you really feel.

But you’ve been burnt in the past, you’ve been hurt. Your previous attempts at confessing to crushes have gone sideways many times, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to put yourself out on the fire like that. Yet again.

Joe exhales shakily, using the support of his hands on his thighs to stand up. He holds out a hand to you, prompting you to get up with him. “Is it okay if we pretend to be a couple?”

You nod firmly, not letting a single bit of hesitation seep through. But when Joe takes one step towards you, his hot breath fanning your face now, you wonder if you should have simply said no.

Joe’s lips land on yours in one smooth motion. They’re soft. Joe’s grip on your hand gets just a little more firm. But before you can respond to his kiss, he’s pulled away already, grabbing the script from your other hand and handing you his.

“Let’s switch roles,” he says quickly, turning to sit down on the couch. “You come home at midnight, and I’ll show you how a doting boyfriend would respond.”

“Isn’t acting interpretative? Maybe my interpretation about a loving relationship is different from yours.” There isn’t any real meaning behind your accusation, and you make your way towards the door to ‘come home at midnight’ anyway.

Despite having practiced the scene several times, you still have to look at your-- Joe’s script to find out what you have to do. Joe’s character - Sam - doesn’t really have many lines. It’s just a few grunts and mumbles while your character - Anna - does all the talking.

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?”

Whoa. He’s taking his liberties with expanding on the dialogues, you realise. The conviction is strong with his dialogue. It really feels like you’re his girlfriend. Like he’s really worried about you after you’ve come home late. And it makes your stomach do a little flip, because, damn, is this what it would feel like to have Joe as a boyfriend?

“Just out,” you try your hardest to match your acting skills with Joe’s, but that’s a losing battle. Half the time you’re really only focusing on Joe, watching how he takes the dialogue and makes a scene out of it.

“Out?” Joe stands up, his eyes flitting over his script briefly before looking back up at you, and you can swear you can see a flash of rage in his eyes. “I called your work.” He put his hand on his hip. “They said you left hours ago.”

Joe’s fingers were slender, the tips pressing into the fabric of his shirt. You’d very much like to smoothen out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Dialogue,” he sings, his shoulder sagging.

Your script falls to the floor as you bring your hands to your forehead. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Joe is quick to rush to your side, putting a gentle hand on your lower back. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, looking at Joe through the corner of your eye.

“Oh,” he mumbles, not sure what to do for just a second. “Um, sit down?” He slowly guides you to the couch, sitting a considerable distance away from you.

You know what comes next in the script. Sam apologises to Anna after realising how worried she was, and they kiss. They kiss. And if you’re going to be acting it out with Joe, you’re not sure you can handle it.

Even then, you’re trying to keep it under control. He can’t see why you’re so upset about such a simple thing. So when Joe looks at you questioningly, you only shake your head vigorously, reaching for the water bottle you’d placed on the coffee table.

“Look,” Joe begins, his voice gentle, “I get that you’re not an actor. And I get that this is a difficult task for you.” He goes on once you nod. “Are you sure you can’t pull out of the gig?”

“I’m sure,” you state, even though you’re not. You really want this extra credit, and you were going to get it.

“Okay. Maybe we can try practicing another day. You’re tired. Aren’t you?” Joe hooks two fingers under your chin to get you to look at him. You can see the concern in his eyes, you can see that he cares about you and wants you to be okay. “You should get some sleep.”

“What if I do horribly?” Your question is meek. You almost already know the answer, but you still have to ask.

“You won’t.” Joe’s hand moves from your chin to your shoulder, squeezing once. “You have me, remember?” He smiles, wide and goofy, and for a minute you forget about the impending doom that’s going to come during your dress rehearsal. “I’ll get you whipped up for the role in no time!” He snaps his fingers.

You can’t help but giggle softly.

“Sleepytime?” He asks, putting his hand on your back to guide you to stand up.

But you don’t. You nod, and shuffle closer to Joe, putting your head on his shoulder. “Can you, um, can you call Lucy and tell her you’re staying over?”

“What?”

“I want you to stay.” You look up at him through your eyelashes, heart beating fast lest he says no. “Please?”

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart,” Joe whispers. His next words are a shout, “Yo, Ben!”

“A heads-up would’ve been nice,” you snap, rolling your eyes.

Joe grimaces, shouting again. “Benjamin!”

Ben’s bedroom door opens immediately, with your roommate storming out, one airpod in his hand, the other in his ear. “What?” he hisses.

“Call Lucy and tell her I’m sleeping over.”

Ben cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t ask you to sleep over.” That’s when his eyes fully take in the visual in front of him. “Oh. Oh.” He smirks, “Okay. I’ll tell her you’re sleeping with Y/N tonight.”

Ben looks like he’s about to say something else, but a hot look from both you and Joe shuts him right up. He holds up his hands in defence, muttering, “I’ll let Lucy know,” before heading back into his room.

As soon as he’s gone, you turn to look at Joe, still leaning on him. “You’re sleeping with me tonight.” You wiggle your eyebrows and give him your best goofy eyes, and it looks like it works, because Joe’s face breaks into a smile and he shakes his head fondly.

“Can’t wait,” he whispers back with equal goofiness.

No more words are exchanged as Joe holds your hand to lead you to your room, waiting for you to change, and then tucks you into bed. As he slides into bed next to you - now changed into one of Ben’s shirts and a pair of sweatpants - you simply have to peep at him, watching as he lays down slowly, putting his hands on his chest.

His chest rises and falls slowly, and you can see, even in the dark, he blinks.

The logical part of your brain has no time to stop your heart before you’re reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

Joe lets out a sharp breath, turning his body towards you and offering better access to his hair. “You’re not asleep?”

You say nothing. Joe can feel the tips of your fingers on his scalp, and it sends a wave of relaxation through him. Hesitantly, he asks, “Do you want to get closer?”

You wordlessly shuffle closer to him, your free hand reaching around his body. You can still play with his hair. And now, Joe can play with yours. You can tell why he likes it - it is very relaxing.

“I like sleeping with you,” you whisper, “just like this.”

Joe giggles softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Me too. Just like this.”

You’re not sure which one of you falls asleep first. Just that it’s a very relaxing night for you. And that when you wake up, Joe is there to give you another kiss, this time on the lips. And that you kiss him back, mocking, “Just like this?”

“Yeah, like this too.” Joe sasses, still wrapped up in the high of kissing you.

You’re sure you don’t mind. You could spend night after night wrapped up in Joe’s arms, waking up to sleepy kisses.

Just like this.

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

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kiss-my-freckle · 4 years ago

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Bear with me on this rewatch. I kinda thought this episode was boring, but it had quite a few seeds for Rederina along with parallels and foreshadowing.

8x5 Rewatch: Fribourg Confidence

I’m gonna start off with Anne, since everyone is commenting about her. You basically have to follow his conversation with Vlad because she pushes Red back to 5x22 soundtracks. A simple follow along....

Dembe: Where are you going? Red: Clear my head, get some air.

Red: Bird watching is more than just birds, Cvetko. It's seeing ourselves in connection with the world in which we live.

♪ I don't know where I belong No I don't know But I've been hanging on For too long 'Cause no one really knows me, at all ♪ --Nobody Knows by Autograf

Red: Do we know each other? Anne: I don't believe so. Should I know you? Red: No, no, no. I was just curious if we'd ever met. Anne: I'm Anne. Red: Raymond. Anne: Well, now we've met. Red: Yes.

Red went to get some air. "She's in the very air you breathe." I'm expecting a resurrection for Katarina Rostova.

♪ You're on your own In a world you've grown Few more years to go Don't let the hurdle fall So be the girl you loved Be the girl you loved ♪ --Retrograde my James Blake

The world in which Red lives. He’s an old bird now.

How did he get here? Abe talking about his daughter. Rederina all through it.

Alina: Like father like daughter.

Like mother like daughter.

Red: I didn't know you had a daughter. Abe: I did once. But not anymore. Zoe: The two of you close? Red: It's complicated.

Abe: Jennifer and I are estranged. Now, I - I got those photos from her mother. Dom: I had to make do with photographs of Masha.

Abe: She and I agreed that Jen should live with her so she could have a life, a good life. An honest life. Red: God willing, Katarina's daughter will live a private life of quiet courage. Abe: But if you're right that my baby's a thief, go ahead. You may as well kill me now, 'cause I ain't got nothing to live for. Dom: You said it, chum. Look around here. You call this living? After I lost my daughter… I crawled… crawled into the wilderness like a mortally wounded animal to get as far away from the pack as I could, to… to run out the clock. Run out the clock and die. And If you came for a survival manual, you won’t find it here.

Abe: I never wanted this life for her. Red: I never wanted you to be.... like me.

Red: She's the first thing you think of every morning. Red: And every day, when you wake up, it will be the first thing you think about. Until one day, it will be the second thing.

Abe: Which is why I thought it best to stay away from her, even after I got out of prison. I cut ties. You can't imagine how hard that is. Dom: I loved that girl enough to let her go, which is more than you can say.

Red: For the purposes of this conversation, let's assume I can. Liz: I don’t know. With Reddington, I don’t assume anything.

Abe: Until one day, I walked back in. Not to be with her, you know, not to talk. Just... Just to see her. Kate: You can’t just stroll into her life after all these years. This is a mistake.

Abe’s girl.

Abe: Raymond, lay this at my feet, not at Jennifer's. She's just a kid. My girl. Red: Your girl. Abe: My baby girl.

Red’s girl.

Katarina: Take care of my girl, Sam.

Red: That's my girl.

And Ressler's, of course.

Red: Agent Ressler, how's our girl?

Yet he allowed the woman from Paris to stake claim.

The Woman: Me? I’m her mother.

Yet he allowed Tom to stake claim in the backseat in 5x8.

Tom: Liz, my Liz.

If Red can’t be Liz’s mother, then Liz can’t be Red’s daughter. Period. It cuts both ways. Alina and her dialogue. “The whole thing's sort of a double-edged sword, isn't it?” Yeah. That’s why this war won’t last. Liz is destroying both of them.

Some foreshadowing....

Abe: Now, wait... I told her that you were off-limits. I did, Raymond. Red: I flew 15 hours so I could look you in the eye and tell you what I told Rakitin - Elizabeth Keen is off limits. Sikorsky: And I asked you to fly here so I could look you in the eye and tell you I agree. For now.

Face value. “Look at our faces, your wife dies."

I like that they've got the husband sleeping with a pink mask just like his wife's, then they do a mirror shot like they do all the time for Rederina. Their Cape May hits are heavy in this episode. I have to wonder, given their references, if Red is gonna realize what's going on with Liz because of their Cape May- Ruin parallel. Funny too, given the way they opened this episode, the soundtrack. She wants to be your James Bond. "Are you telling me, like, what... Like, you think that I murdered a KGB defector, like I'm Bond? I'm Tom Bond, and I just, uh... between social studies and recess, I go around assassinating people. I had my job interview there, Liz, at the coffee shop." The woman who's acting just like her dead husband. The bird robber masks. And Red ends up birdwatching. They steal nothing but the flashdrive even though the box has stacks of cash. "Hey. It's me. Call Reddington. Tell him we got a problem." Yeah.... her name is Tom Bond. Red talking to Carl about how he overestimated his abilities. This hits back to Kate's arc. "As you well know, one of the keys to my success is a clear and consistent understanding of my own limitations. So often people overestimate themselves, misapply their gifts." Then the Hunter telling Red what Kate said to him. "She said you'd do this - understimate her."

“Hello, Peter.”

"Whoever robbed you knew where to look, and they didn't learn it from me. So... with all due respect, if there was a failure of security, it wasn't on my end."

Red technically failed Elizabeth. I was considering the note further. “Hello.” A nice hit to Cape May, but someone on Facebook pointed out a better parallel. Red dropping into Peter’s golden parachute, then dropping him from his plane. It sent my mind in so many directions. Howard faking his death with his plane. Red talking to Smokey about the difference between flying and falling. Atticus and Red sitting and watching the birds. Would you like to fly? I know I would. I think Liz plans to kill Red, but that plan will switch and something is gonna drop through her skylight. Add in Alina’s comment. "Drop the Mr. Wilke BS, and you might be home in time for dinner." Because it also parallels Peter. “Looks like we'll be able to drop you off in time for dinner.” As well as Tom in their Redemption pilot. Scripts for the spinoff are gone, so I can’t find the exact dialogue for that.

The very theme of this season is "finding" Liz. Because Red "lost" her. It's all a push back to her S2 memory wipe. That's why no one is supposed to find her until they actually find her as they’re supposed to. As I've been saying, she's reversing from Rassvet. That’s why part of me thinks the necklace in Red’s box might be purposeful. Red found Katarina, his former self in Cape May. Maybe Liz will find her former self in a Ruin parallel. I'm thinking perhaps that’s why they can’t get to Liz. Why they’re not supposed to. Liz has to find herself, and she’s doing it in this direction because fate wants her to. I’m gonna laugh if Liz goes from Red's deposit box, and the mark pushes her back to Tom's deposit box. That's where she found the envelope with the mark and her picture of Red at Sam's hospital. She's not Keen, she's Milhoan. Even possible Liz realizes Red is her mother while finding herself. I've often considered the idea of Liz learning Red's truth, and keeping it from the audience until the end of the series. Like perhaps she actually learns to keep a secret. At any rate, I think Liz will be “found” eventually. It’s all about that second memory wipe.

Red: Then she's gone. The thumb drive with her. Dembe: What will she do with it? Red: Nothing good.

The Freelancer: What does she need me to do? Skip: For now? Nothing. "You got caught in the rain..." The Freelancer: "And need to dry off."

Liz: Your daddy just always taught me to be ready for a rainy day. Agnes: But it's not raining. Liz: Aren't you too smart for your own good?

Again, the hit to Tom’s go-box in Liz’s vent. Talk about dialogues. You can see their direction. She gave the thumb drive to Cooper, and I’m all but guessing Alina will be repaying Red next week by recovering it. Quid pro quo. I think The Freelancer was Liz’s mistake, and they’ve hidden the danger he presents under their Sikorsky thumb drive storyline. Continue following along because Red is genuinely pissed and terrified at the same time lol...

Cooper: I suppose you also think that she's responsible for The Freelancer's release, which now that we're here and she's not, is guaranteed to happen. Red: I think she's not only responsible for it, I think it's what she wants. Cooper: That's absurd. Red: One day, Elizabeth steals millions of dollars from me, and next, The Freelancer has a brand-new expensive attorney demanding his release unless Elizabeth Keen magically appears in court. That doesn't strike me as absurd, Harold. That strikes me as unsettling.

Very unsettling. Liz had The Freelancer locked away in prison for 7 seasons, and Red just worried about Marvin betraying him for doing 3 years. jfc lol

Red: But before then - I fear she may do something that she can never recover from. And of all the tragedies that you and I have experienced together, that would be the most tragic. We have to do - do everything in our power to prevent that from happening.

Exactly what Red was talking about with Cooper at the end of 8x3. Her doing something she won't be able to recover from. The Freelancer will kill 60 people just to hide one murder. Liz just put Agnes in danger. Perhaps the point of Marvin’s set up. To show Liz’s naïveté" in the criminal world. Forget about the thumb drive... it’s The Freelancer Red worries about.

Cooper's hypocrisy. He lost Liz first after Aram already let her escape the post office. "And, Agent Ressler, let's keep this an internal matter. We can notify Reddington once Keen's safe and in our custody." Giving Red all reason not to share his intel. "So now you want my help. Harold has a unique definition of - halfsies. Tell him that I don't recognize anyone in the photos and that the next time he has actionable intel, I expect him to share it with me before it's squandered, not after." Sigh.... Cooper telling Panabaker everything after what he did in Kuwait. Shit is gonna fly.

Aram is getting better in the field, so there’s that. Their hit back to Garrick’s episode with Red’s story about handwriting. A Rederina hit with the handwriting. Rederina hits all over the place. Rederina with their Cape May hits, the Cape May warbler and Red’s Cape May id. The leader was a woman lol. Yeah... Red leads, they follow, but I think it’s funny Panabaker believes otherwise. “You don't find many swans swimming in the sewer.” How long will 41 million last Liz? The robber woman was paid 1.5 million. The coffee cups are getting insane at this point. All throughout. That’s what Tom’s dream scenario started with.

Basically, I’m expecting something serious to drop through Liz’s skylight and for Agnes to get hit... two things I’ve been predicting since S5 and S6.

Red: Under the greenwood tree, who loves to lie with me, and turn his merry note unto the sweet bird's throat. Cvetko: Nice rhyme. Red: Shakespeare thought so.

Red leaving his criminal empire behind for just a moment in a peaceful world. Becoming one with the birds, Anne chirping along with them. Red doesn’t get much time to sing... unless he’s torturing someone in the woods for a name in S3, then breaking out in campfire song.

#Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2 #Rederina

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mattzerella-sticks · 6 years ago

Text

You Do, a Sam-centric, Dean/Castiel coda for 15x06 “Golden Time”, 4.9k

Sam feels like he's the only one that cares about defeating Chuck. Dean, while physically present, cannot bother to lend a hand. And Cas is willing to help, but would rather do it on his own.

After Cas lets slip that the reason for his voluntary exile begins with the letter 'D' and rhymes with Mean, Sam puts Chuck on the back burner to deal with the more pressing issue of reuniting Dean and his best friend. Only with how stubborn Dean is avoiding research, it'll be ten times worse to make him talk to Cas.

Luckily Sam has a few new tricks up his sleeve now that he embraces an aspect of himself he never allowed himself to try. Will he help his brother do what needs to be done? Or will his plan bring forth an entirely unexpected outcome?

Sam waits until Dean leaves to sag against his seat. He scrubs a hand down his face, hoping he can wipe away the pent-up frustration caused by Dean’s visit. Unfortunately its roots sunk deep and cannot be torn so easily.

The worst part was Dean barely did anything to warrant such powerful irritation.

Dean strolled in for all of five minutes, robe sweeping behind him, asking where his slippers were. Sam glanced away from the page of his book to find his brother barefooted. Toes wiggling underneath the wide curtain of his cowboy print pajamas. A welcome change from the hot dogs glued to Dean’s legs, except Sam can’t stare at the pants for too long without blushing. Always stumbling across one cowboy or another that looked inappropriate.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, “Why don’t you check the last place you wore them and start from there?”

He thought that would drive Dean elsewhere. Instead Dean took his suggestion as an invitation, lounging across the table from him with a bag of chips on his lap. Forcing Sam to listen while he checked off every memory with his slippers present in them. Chomped on his snack with crumbs spewing every couple of words, a few shooting so far ahead they land on his book.

A blood vessel in Sam’s forehead twinged with the need to burst. “Dean,” Sam cut him off, interrupting his retelling of when he used one of his slippers to kill a spider in the dungeons. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of busy…”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” he said, wagging the book, “Research… to take down Chuck?”

A dark shadow crossed his expression, surfacing briefly only to disappear in the next moment. “Right…”

Sam arched a brow. “Y’know, you could forget about the slippers and join -”

“I think I just remembered where they are,” he said, standing. “Thanks for the help, Sammy.” Dean shuffled towards the exit, a cowboy riding a stallion with back arched in pleasure the last thing he saw.

He marks the page he was on, shutting the book. Too bothered to continue researching. Pointless even trying since there’s a more pressing problem that persists, an obstacle better dealt with before facing Chuck. Because if there’s any chance of beating God, Sam needs his brother and not the sad, soft shell wearing his clothes and eating his food.

Eating all their food. They don’t have the money to support Dean’s void-like stomach. Sam almost purchased an array of healthy snacks during the last grocery trip. Only rejecting the idea when he imagined how bad of a fit Dean would pitch if Sam returned with peapods and gluten-free wafers. Or, worse, his brother accepting the food with indifference.

Dean’s spiral spun so far down Sam wouldn’t put it past him. It frightens Sam to see his brother like this, especially since he figured it was over after their milk-run to Rowena’s. After Sam broke past Dean’s walls with his plaintive speech and offered a hand to help him out of his darkness. Like he did for him when Chuck’s betrayal and Rowena’s death were still fresh wounds.

But where Sam let Dean pull him to safety, it seems Dean left Sam hanging.

“I don’t know what to do,” Sam confesses, his soft voice echoing in the cavernous library. He taps his fingers on the book, gnawing on his lip.

There were only so many options to choose from, and Sam exhausted most of them. Space only gave Dean’s depression room to grow. Confronting it hadn’t worked either. Giving Dean a target to focus his anger, confusion, and sadness failed for the first time in a long while. And Sam’s Hail Mary never answered his messages.

Still… Sam looks to his phone, wondering. The next call could be the one. That spark of hope pushes him to grabbing his phone and redialing Cas’s number.

Unlike every other time he tried, Cas picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Cas!” Sam sighs, an ounce of relief pouring into him. “Cas, man, it’s so good to hear you.”

“It’s… nice to hear from you as well.”

“Where have you been?” he asks, “It’s not like you to go so long without at least checking up. We were worried about you.”

“I… I’m sure you were worried, Sam,” Cas says, tone immediately curdling the relief in Sam’s stomach. “I was away. After everything with Chuck and Jack and De… and it all, I needed some time to myself.”

Sam nods, frown marring his face. “Understandable. Wish you could have told us -”

“I expressed my intentions clearly to Dean,” Cas says, “Has he not told you?”

“Now that you ask…” Fear plucks a frightful chord across Sam’s heart. “Dean hadn’t mentioned it at all.” Thinking back, Dean doesn’t talk about Cas anymore unless prompted. Gone were the hours he would spend telling Sam pointless stories of times he and Cas were together. Mentioning the angel when something reminded Dean of him. Staring at his phone with a tiny smile on his face, in deep conversation with Cas.

“Of course.”

There’s an empty space Cas tiptoes around, an event not mentioned. “What -”

“So,” Cas interrupts, “Chuck is picking up where he left off?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “But -”

“But we will do our best to stop him,” he finishes for him, “I’m already on my way towards Heaven, to see if there might be anything there that he forgot. That might detail a weakness of some kind.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sam shrugs, “but I could really use you here…”

A harsh breath blows through the speaker. “I… I’m already halfway to Heaven’s gate, Sam. Turning around now would be… it would be a waste of my usability.”

“That doesn’t matter Cas,” Sam tells him, “Right now Heaven can wait. You’re more important. What with you leaving so suddenly after the hellmouth, we never got the chance to check in.”

Silence. Sam waits for Cas’s response, checking every now and then to make sure the angel didn’t hang up on him. “Sorry,” he says after a while, “I… I was distracted. You want to know how I’m feeling?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m… fine .”

“Really?” Sam arches his brows so high they fly off to Missouri. “ Fine ?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because none of us are fine,” Sam scoffs, “I wasn’t for awhile and Dean, he…” He pauses, expecting Cas to jump in and demand he continue. Only it never comes. “Dean, he,” Sam fumbles awkwardly, “He’s kind of let the whole thing get to him and… it’s bad over here.”

Cas hums over the line. “I see… this call wasn’t about Chuck. It’s about Dean.”

“Cas -”

“If Dean truly has need of me ,” he says, voice wet and thick, hoarse from keeping something at bay, “than Dean should be able to call and express this himself. But per my last conversation with him, Sam, I highly doubt I’m the solution you seek. I’d probably just… make everything worse .”

“What? No - Cas -”

“I have to go, Sam,” Cas sighs, “there are patrol cars lined up along the highway, and I’d rather not be pulled over for talking on the phone. Goodbye.” He hangs up despite Sam’s protest, a flat beep ringing in his ears.

Sam taps the end button, mulling over the conversation. Uses the few minutes spent with Cas to shed light on weeks observing his brother. Rethinks his earlier judgments about the root of his problems. Whenever life slights Dean he focuses all his anger and fury on it. It helped them countless times during hunts or facing powerful enemies. Except if Dean’s target is himself, all that destruction turns inward.

Which explains absolutely everything about Dean’s behavior.

“Dammit, Dean…” Sam tugs at his hair, annoyance flaring up at his brother’s actions. Whatever they were sent fissures into the foundation of his and Cas’s relationship. The shockwaves wrecking everything else around them. Worse, Sam only realizing too late.

Now Dean haunts the Bunker’s hall, the only ghost left, and their friend keeps his spirit tethered with his anger.

“There’s got to be a way to fix it…”

Sam knows what has to happen, and how unlikely it will come to pass. Dean would rather spend twenty hours surrounded by books than take steps towards repairing his mistakes. Even with the years of growth under his belt. Because when it comes to Cas, Dean is too short. And Cas followed his lead.

Meaning neither have ever finished a fight, preferring to drop it and sweep a rug over what happened. Neglect the necessary fixes until, apparently, the wood under their feet rotted through and sent them crashing into the shit they buried.

“Not this time,” Sam says, standing, “This time they can’t ignore it.”

His passion wanes when he thinks about forcing two of the most stubborn people to do things they aren’t ready for. While he may have wounded God, Sam lacks the necessary power to switch up the script.

“Or,” he thinks, glancing at a nearby box, “maybe I don’t?”

It’s not any of the stuff they carried in from Rowena’s study. Instead one of the two they scrounged from the truck where the coven they ganked hid. Sam digs through the hex bags and books to find what he needs. A needle. String. Buttons, hay, herbs, and lots of tarp.

There’s one ingredient missing though. Sam sneaks over to Dean’s room, hoping his brother hadn’t nested there yet. Luck shines on him. It’s empty save the empty cartons, bags, and bottles scattered around the room. He quickly sifts through all of it for a single hair on Dean’s pillow. Then Sam races back to the library to set to work.

Unfortunately with all the technical knowledge, Sam isn’t the craftiest witch. His thread zig-zags unevenly in the overstuffed doll’s body, and the button eyes are placed crookedly on the ‘face’. One of its arms are longer than the other, and the legs disproportionately half the size of the body.

“That’s not important,” he says, scanning his handiwork, “it’s a vessel for the spell. Nothing more.” Clutching the doll tightly to his chest, Sam moves onto the next stage in his hastily thrown together plan. Find Dean.

If not in his room, Sam knows the only other place he will be.

Peeking into the kitchen, hidden by the shadows, Sam sees his brother chomping on a massive sandwich. Headphones affixed to his ears, another break that lessens the difficulty of Sam’s work.

Sam brings the doll to his lips, almost an inch of space between it and the head. “Dean,” he says, “eating isn’t going to fix anything. You’re being a stubborn idiot, hurting Cas and yourself in the process.”

Dean stiffens, cheeks puffed out with food. Swallowing, he looks at the sandwich in his hands. Then places it on the dish in disgust.

Smirking, Sam continues. “You can’t do this anymore, pretend that you’re okay. Because you’re not. There’s only one thing that can fix this - Cas . Don’t be afraid, anymore, Dean. You know what to do… now give it to him.”

A slight rustle in the kitchen forces Sam to press himself against the hallway, doll smothered in his stomach. With the limited vision he has, Sam watches Dean shuffle towards an exit. His .

“The other way,” Sam suggests to the doll, “go the other way!”

Dean pauses, brows scrunching for a moment until they disappear with a turn. His brother retreats the other way, Sam breathing a sigh of relief.

With the kitchen abandoned, Sam claims the space for himself. Wraps Dean’s grotesque creation to preserve it if he wants and grabs a beer for himself. Takes Dean’s place and drinks in victory.

When the bottle hits the table Sam feels an unnerving stare tickling his chin.

The voodoo doll stares at him from its resting place, reminding him of the steps taken to achieve success. Without annoyance or excitement distorting his thoughts, Sam reviews what he did with a clear mind. How he used magic to influence his brother’s actions. His brother who confessed how much he struggles with identifying which were his own choices and which were those of a higher power.

His beer tastes flat. “What did I do…” he sighs, leaning on the table. Sam cannot stop Dean, probably on the phone with Cas. Helped across the final obstacle with Sam’s magic.

“It’s all for the best,” he reminds himself, “it was a one-time thing.”

Unable to take the judgmental glare from the expressionless doll, Sam snatches it and heads to his room. Hides it in his nightstand drawer and leaves for the library again.

Hoping his ‘help’ didn’t drive the wedge deeper.

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

All day, Sam stalked Dean’s every movement. From breakfast in the morning to cautiously snooping around the corner when he went to the bathroom. Curious to see if his suggestion from yesterday carried over. However nothing seemed too bizarre.

Actually Dean fell into normalcy, yesterday’s magical shove exactly what he needed to climb from the hole he wallowed in. Dean changed into actual clothes and set about doing chores. Cleaning floors, folding laundry - while it wasn’t research Sam took the signs as symbols of recovery. Dean moves at his own pace, and will research when he feels ready. Given the unburdened state of his shoulders, it could be any day.

By the time night rolls around, Sam lulled into easy comfort.

Suddenly the Bunker door slams open with the force of a hurricane, echoing throughout the cavernous building. Sam, on his way to the kitchen, spins on his heel. Drops his book to reach for his gun. Freezing only when he notices the recognizable figure gazing down at them. Chest heaving with words he stutters to speak.

“Cas?” Dean asks, hold on his gun limp, “Cas… what are you?”

“Did you mean it?”

Dean stiffens in his seat, cold metal of his weapon clattering to the floor. Sam, thankful it was on safety, finds his nerves fraying further after noticing the tense way Dean holds himself. “What?” he asks, breaking his and Cas’s stare.

“Did… you… mean it?” Each step carries a blow more powerful than any amount of Heavenly wrath. Dean flinches with each point of contact between the stairs and Cas. Retreats into his shell the closer Cas flies.

Sam rushes between them before Cas lays a hand on Dean. His mind races with an apology, heart sinking at how his plan soured. “Cas, it’s -”

“Quiet,” he tells him, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“But -” “Dean,” Cas says, softer now. Like they’re in the eye of his storm. “Dean, you left me a message. Did you mean it?”

His brother drags the answer out. Rubs his neck, then his shoulder, and finally squeezes his cheeks and releases a puff of air. “Look,” he starts, “if you’re reacting this bad -”

“That’s not what I asked.” Cas’s lip trembles when he asks again, “Did you mean it ?” A shine catches Sam’s eye, and at first he thinks it’s his friend’s blade. Only, on closer inspection, he realizes it’s Cas’s phone. “Dean, please -”

“Yes, I did.” Dean keeps his lids closed shut, wrinkles layered over each other on his face while he braces for impact. “I… I always did, Cas,” he admits. A whisper Sam strains to hear.

“Dean…” Cas pushes past Sam and lunges for Dean. Sam shouts, lost in the clatter of the chair and the other’s yelps. He strides over to pry Cas off his brother, and nearly trips over his own feet when Sam sees Dean’s arms wind tight around Cas’s midsection. Hears the familiar sounds of an almost-not fight that makes his ears burst into flames. Peeking at their faces, Sam confirms his suspicions.

They’re kissing. Through tears, smiles, and laughter, they kiss. Cas pulls back, gasping for breath. Forehead against Dean’s, he asks, “All this time?”

“Of course,” Dean says, “I might not have known it but… looking back, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Aware of how their lips drift toward each other again, Sam clears his throat. Dean tears his gaze away and remembers Sam’s presence. He sits up, Cas in his lap, and smiles with too much innocence. “Hey Sam…”

“Hey,” he says, looking between them, “so…” “So…” Dean shrugs, “so this is a thing?”

“Apparently…” “My apologies Sam,” Cas says, standing. Offers a hand to Dean and when he rises to full height does not let go. “I was a little… focused on my mission.”

“Your… your mission,” Sam frowns, ache surfacing from the depths of his consciousness to nudge at his temple. “You mean to Heaven -”

Cas flushes a worrisome crimson. “I… I almost forgot…”

“Forgot what?”

“I had parked outside Heaven’s gate when I noticed my phone,” he turns to Dean, “after listening I forgot all about Chuck, about -”

Dean shushes him, gently running his thumb across Cas’s cheek. “It’s okay. You can go to Heaven some other time. Right now it’s more important you’re here and we can…” His gaze briefly flits over to Sam. “We can discuss what was said… in private?”

“Private?”

“My room,” Dean clarifies. The words hissed under breath as if speed could muddle their intention. Sam and Cas understood regardless.

“Of course,” Cas beams. Twitches while he tries to measure the amount of joy he shows on his face but unable to fight the curl of his lips. ��Much more important things to talk about.” He follows Dean out of the room, Sam left behind with an upturned chair, Dean’s gun, confusion, and a phone.

Cas’s phone.

Sam snatches it without hesitation. Righting the fallen chair, he opens the phone with no hesitation. Concern for his friend’s privacy very low on his radar, overpowered by the burning curiosity to figure out what Dean said to inspire an action like Cas’s embrace. And why he returned it.

Since Cas doesn’t have a password protecting his phone, it takes a few seconds to find the evidence he needs.

Sam hovers over the play button, conscious finally kicking in. Wonders if he truly needs to hear an obviously intimate conversation that, in the grand scheme of their life, does not involve him. But then he thinks about the voodoo doll he has sitting in his dresser, and begins the voicemail. Knowing that none of this would be possible without his interference.

He listens, and sees the whole picture for what it is.

“Hey Cas, it’s… it’s me, Dean. I’m - uh… I’m calling because I, well, because I thought about praying and then I thought about how Chuck could listen in on that like some perv…” Some shame oozes into Sam. “But this, it feels like a prayer. You’re probably feeling a little twinge, right now, aren’t you? Probably not now, because you didn’t answer the phone. But whatever you’re doing you might… and prayer or no prayer, Chuck seems to know what goes on in our lives anyway so… I guess I got to get over it. It’s not like this is a dirty secret. Even though I’ve kind of… kind of felt like it was. For a long time. Too long. When I… when I should have been not doing that.”

“Cas, I… I love you.” The bombshell explodes without prompt, Sam nearly losing the rest of Dean’s voicemail in the whistling fallout. “I don’t really say it and when I do, I… it comes out all wrong. Because you look sad afterwards like I don’t mean it the way you think I do. But I do. I love you in the purest sense of the word, man. For so long I’ve been afraid of you knowing that and of… of loving you, but I shouldn’t be. If I’d said all this sooner I… maybe you wouldn’t have left. Or it would have hurt more when you did. Don’t know how it can hurt more than it is now… I already feel like there’s a crater in my chest because when you moved on you took my heart with you. Even though I tried to not let that happen. Thought that us, everything that happened was because of Chuck because you’re his kid and… you have to admit, it’s a hell of a story…” A wet chuckle rasps over the line, followed by a labored breath. “S’why I kept you an arm’s length away during the ghost-pocalypse. Why I’ve been struggling since then I… I don’t know what’s real and what’s your Dad. Figured I could sort my life out but Chuck putting himself back on the board sent my already shaky sense of self into a tailspin.”

“But him being back also… I think I’ve gotten a sense of how he writes us. On what he forced on us. Everything he ever wrote has been about bringing the maximum amount of pain. All geared towards driving our family apart. Every cruel act and lie and whisper into my head to do the wrong thing were him. And of that list, Cas… you’re none of those things. You make us whole - make me whole. That… Chuck doesn’t want that. The fact we keep finding each other after all we’ve been through, what tries to keep us apart, from demons to God, that’s all the proof I need that we’re it for each other. We… we’re real. ”

“And I let Chuck feed me a crock of shit and I spiraled. Been spiraling since mom died and Jack… I, I can’t blame Chuck for all of it, though I’d loved to. He threw all of that at me and I swung exactly like he planned. I’m sorry, Cas, for not treating you the way you deserve. Showing you exactly what you mean to me. I can’t change the past but I want to fix the future, so you’ll be in it. It might be too little too late… and for once we can’t make all the pieces fit like they used to. Knowing that, I don’t regret telling you I love you. Because if we’re gonna be able to beat Chuck, we need all of us together. Working as a unit. A family. I won’t be much help to anyone if I can’t be in the same room with you, choking on all these feelings. After he’s gone, if you still want to move on… I won’t blame you. All we’ve been through, you deserve happiness the same as us. If it’s with someone else… then they’re a right lucky bastard or bitch, whoever they are. So… yeah, that’s it. I’m gonna, I’m gonna hang up? Yeah, bye -”

It cuts off, the answering machine’s voice speaking over Dean’s about how there’s no more room left on Cas’s phone for the rest of his message. Not that it matters since everything that was supposed to be said found its way out of Dean’s mouth.

Sam wipes at his eyes, smiling at the phone. Chest filled with happiness for two of the most important people in his life. That they were able to wade through the never-ending flood and reunite again. Cards laid fully on the table, nothing in their hands.

With a little help. The voodoo’s vacant stare flashes in Sam’s mind, reminding him of how he whispered into it to bring about this confession. His stomach churns at the thought. The guild he swallowed down returning with a vengeance. But then it all settles as he considers his exact command.

Worded with no intention of romance, Sam wanted Dean to grow up and realize Cas held no fault in what went down with Chuck. But his brother went the extra measure, shoveling part of his repressed, forty-year old bullshit into the furnace as a grand gesture to show his angel that there was more than one endgame to be had.

Laughing, Sam places the phone down and stands. “Dean and Cas…” he says, years of memories coloring themselves anew given the necessary context. “How could I’ve been so blind…” He squints, lips thinning. “Chuck… that’s why.”

He flattens his palm against his wound, the skin dully flaring giving Sam the impression that his nightmares will be extra bloody tonight. “At least one of us will have sweet dreams,” he sighs, shuffling to his room.

Sleep is far from his mind, especially given what awaits him when his head hits the pillow, but Sam walks with purpose. To tie up the last loose end of this misadventure.

The voodoo doll hadn’t moved since he used it last. Resting against a well-worn spell book, awake. Sam picks it up and pinches the thread tying it together.

“Nothing’s ever going to control our lives again, Chuck… you hear me?”

The string stays where it was, the doll still whole. Sam rubs it between his thumb and finger, wickedness striking in the final hour before the doll’s demise. An impish grin unfurls across his face. “After this,” he amends, “After tonight… I already helped Dean make one healthy choice, who’s to say I can’t suggest a few others.”

Sam replaces the doll in his hand with the spell book, reclining on his bed to wait. Reads until the clock ticks closer to midnight and then beyond. When his eyes can barely hold themselves open any longer and the neon green numbers glow in single digits, Sam grabs the voodoo doll of his brother once more. Whispers the prank in a scratchy voice, mirth poking through. Finished, he sets both items down and readies for bed.

Looking forward to sleep and what awaits him in the morning.

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

Sam stretches on his path to the Bunker’s exit, readying for another late morning jog. A road block appears, however, in the form of his brother in similar dress. Yellow hoodie snug over his chest and a pair of sweatpants with dried stains by the pockets. Sneakers Sam wasn’t sure Dean owned tied tight over his feet. “Dean?” he starts, “you going out?”

“Hey,” Dean says, eyes brightening, “I’m glad I caught you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah…” His brother rubs at his neck awkwardly, a ketchup-colored blush staining his cheeks, complimenting his mustard hoodie. “Yeah, I… I wanted to see if you’d let me come jogging with you?”

“You… want to go jogging?” A question not really framed like one. Sam already knowing the answer.

Dean nods, “Yeah, I… I don’t know. Last night, Cas and I had this talk about unhealthy habits and what I could do to stop them. When I woke up I… I guess it bled into other aspects of my life, because I couldn’t get the idea of jogging out of my head!” He chuckles, dipping up to gaze at Sam for a brief moment. “Weird, right?”

Sam finds it the exact opposite. Because after giving his brother and angel a few hours of privacy, he snatched the Dean voodoo doll from his nightstand and whispered a few things to it. Incepted the idea of wanting to jog with him into his mind. Still he agrees, since Sam didn’t expect there to be a logical narrative supporting his prank. “You’re always welcome to jog with me, Dean,” he says.

“Perfect.” They continue their trek, Dean mirroring Sam’s stretches with a few second-delay.

At the foot of the stairs, Sam stops them again. “Wait, did Cas want to join us?”

Dean shakes his head, giving Sam hope his other message wormed its way in. “Sent him out on a grocery run. Had the strangest craving for, uh… veggie bacon.”

“Veggie bacon?” Sam gasps, “In the Meat Man’s kitchen?”

“Shut up.” Dean shoves him, stomping up the steps, “That was so dumb… regret ever telling you that.”

Sam follows with a doggish grin, “At least you realize it now!” Dean flips him off, exiting the Bunker. He watches the door slip close, trailing behind at his own pace.

His brother’s voodoo doll sits in his hoodie pocket, weighing him down. While Sam’s actions were only to Dean’s benefit or boyish pranks, thinking about what he did still makes his skin crawl. His gunshot tingles with a whirlpool of energy. A reminder that he acted somewhat like the very being they want to take down.

“But that was it,” Sam promises, “After breakfast I’ll explain to Dean what I did.” An argument might occur, and he will accept whatever words Dean will throw his way. It won’t be a huge blow up, Sam thinks, since Cas is there. Cas is there and it’s because of Dean. Sam prompted his brother but in no way did he imagine the voicemail Dean would leave. The feelings that he poured into his message. That was all him. Like they’ve done their whole lives, they’ve taken what they were given and fit the rules around them. No matter who tries to break their team apart the three of them come back together stronger.

“Sammy!” Dean calls for him, “You tired? We haven’t even started, man!”

He chuckles, leaving the Bunker. “Says the man who is jogging for the first time today.”

“It can’t be that hard.”

Sam smirks at him, “Just be lucky it’s cold out.”

“Why?”

“Because when the weather’s warm I like to jog barefoot.”

The implicit threat goes over Dean’s head, stranding him in his confusion. “... Why ?”

“Y’know,” Sam claps Dean on the shoulder, “If you decide you want to stick with this after today… I can show you.”

Dean huffs with a familiar grumpy expression, although a twinkle of curiosity glistens in his stare. “Maybe,” he says, “Let’s see how this first jog goes.”

“Your call, man. Your call.” They run, Sam leading ahead of Dean. Not going too fast so he can stay with Dean. Out of breath, bouncing, and at points - between light-hearted jabs shared between brothers - soaring .

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