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suddenlysackler · 4 years ago

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Limelight

Adam Sackler x Reader

TW: N/A (maybe a lil smidge of angst but nothing major)

A/N: This has been on the back burner for quite a bit and it’s a tad messy but I wanted to put it out for you all because I miss you and I miss my goblin bf and, ya know, Cannes 2021. Thank you for reading, I’m hopeful that I’ll be back more frequently in the coming weeks!

...

Adam Sackler had ascertained very quickly that he did not care for red carpets in the slightest.

Given what he had found himself struggling through his late teens and seemingly all of his twenties, the relief of finally, finally, finally achieving some sort of steady stream of work and establishing himself as a serious actor provided relief that he could not be more grateful for.

He liked being able to turn down the $800 a month from his grandmother and moving out of his apartment for good this time, trading up for some swanky new town house in upper Manhattan. He liked being able to afford to be choosy about what jobs he took and he liked that he was able to split his time between stage and screen. Hell, he’d even tried his hand at directing some dumb indie film that landed him right smack dab in the middle of Sundance.

Which is when he found out he hated red carpets.

He absolutely hated the insincerity of all of it — the rushed interviews, the posing for what seemed like hours on end for photographs that he’d probably never even see and he wasn’t allowed to smile for exactly like he’d want to. He hated answering the same questions over and over again and rubbing elbows with reporters from tabloids asking about off screen romances and making it blatantly clear to him that they weren’t interested in the art he had just helped create.

Along the way, maybe five red carpet events into his career, he met you. To his surprise, he didn’t meet you through a mutual friend or at a party or by yelling at you to stop taking food from open containers in the store he was working in. He met you because he accidentally took your coffee on a Wednesday morning before you could grab it and you promptly chased him down 45th street and cussed him out by using every single insult you could manage.

And that’s when things just clicked for him.

Everything fell into place after you came into his life and suddenly he felt even more fulfilled than he originally figured was even possible. He liked coming home to you after long days on set or at the theater. He liked bringing you to see different projects he was working on during production or bringing you to advanced screenings or dress rehearsals. Whenever he got a script, you were the first one he talked to about whether or not to even try for the role. He never wanted to object you to the horror that was a red carpet.

Not until now, anyway.

It was the first time that you had happened to be available for one and, yeah, he had invited you to all of the ones he had been to since you had been together but he didn’t necessarily want to take you. Of all of the things in his world that he wanted to show you, premiere events were the one thing he wanted to shelter you from. You knew about the drinking, the philandering of his early to mid twenties, the string of psycho ex girlfriends who he swore might show up at your shared doorstep at any given time to rip him a new one. Despite all of that shit, you’d some how managed to still like him, love him even. He didn’t want to chase you away with the bullshit that came with his career.

Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back?

You’d said yes without hesitation and his stomach dropped. He knew you never turned down an excuse to dress up, to impress him and make him feel proud of the fact that you were his girl, just his. So, on the night of the Tony Awards, he sat in the hotel room his manager had reserved for the two of you to get ready with the help of a team of aestheticians and hair dressers and tailors watching you twirl in what was probably the most expensive ball gown you would ever wear in childlike delight. Music of your choice played softly on someone’s phone and you could hardly stay still enough for the finishing touches that were being pushed into your face. You looked and felt like a million bucks and Adam knew that, but how was he supposed to enjoy it? He was too preoccupied with figuring out what he would do if you freaked out on him, threatened to leave him or some shit, after the circus act you were about to parade through in order to get to your final destination of the night.

“You look handsome.” You called from the chair you had been forced into, eyes opened wide for quick swipes of mascara.

Adam was so far gone, lost in his thoughts and strapped with worry. He didn’t hear you compliment him. He didn’t see you get up and he felt as though the force of you slotting yourself between his slightly parted legs was a ghost of a touch. “Hey, doll.” He mumbled when he finally did notice you.

One of your eyebrows quirked up. “You good, Adam?”

He sensed some wavering in your voices, maybe some concern. Maybe some doubt? “I’m okay, just hate this shit.”

The other eyebrow followed the first. “What do you mean you hate this shit?” You ask as his publicist swept into the room and began to shoo the two of you out the door and down to stand for pictures and questions.

He held your hand tightly as you weaved down the hall and into the elevator. “I just don’t like this part.” He shrugged and you squeeze his hand as you listen. “Worried it’ll bug you as much as it bugs me.”

“I mean, I’d walk over hot coals to see you in a tux.” You teased, eyes bright. When he doesn’t shoot back with a response characteristic of his normally playful bravado, some of that brightness leaves your expression. “You know I’m just happy to be with you, right? I’m proud of you.”

Adam hummed in response and squeezed your hand back. “I know.”

You weren’t having his clipped answers. “I don’t care that there are going to be pictures or tons of people watching. You know that shit won’t make me think differently of you.”

He remained quiet after giving you another shrug, still completely scared out of his mind that your words were just that, words. That you’d hit the ground running and never look back as soon as you realized just what supporting him at these things entailed.

The silence lasted for the rest of the elevator ride, through the lobby, and in the limousine and in the little holding room they put you in that is riddled with all of the snacks he would tease you for indulging in had the circumstances been different. He was tense, his muscles tight, tight, tight from his jaw to his calves, knee bouncing and free hand clenching and unclenching right until the moment his name was called.

The moment wasn’t awful to begin with. It’s mostly pausing and stopping a lot of times for Adam to take pictures while you watch from the sidelines and, every so often, he pulls you in for a few. He doesn’t tell you that, in the moments he doesn’t have his arm around you, that isn’t kissing your cheek chastely and holding your hand, that he feels like he’s drowning.

It didn’t phase you as you listened to reporters hound him about his female costar and whether or not they were seeing each other. It really didn’t even phase you when one man asked you to “step aside” and referred to you as Adam’s friend, despite his tight grip on your waist and the tender glances his stole every twenty seconds or so. And honestly, you didn’t really care that you might have gotten jostled up a little bit by photographers and other reporters as you stepped aside, more than happy to speed up the process for Adam.

But Adam would not have that, not at all.

“We’re fuckin’ done.” Adam growled, his eyes locking on your face as soon as he noticed you stumble a bit. He left without another word to any of the reporters and looked for his publicist, who was beyond livid at the fact that Adam was blowing off his responsibilities without much of an explanation. Before he went up to him, he grabbed your hand and dragged you along with him, not saying another word.

After a hushed but tense back and forth between the two men, the three of you stepped out of the view of the public and quickly found one of the many green rooms for invited guests to cool down and touch up hair and make up before heading into the venue.

He paced and paced and paced for a long moment, leaving you to sit on the couch and watch with bated breath, praying that his older destructive tendencies didn’t suddenly find their way back to the surface of his psyche.

After a long while, you finally spoke. “Can you come here?” You whispered, eyes round and, to be frank, a bit desperate.

Adam came to you without a moment’s hesitation and knelt in front of you, placing his head in your lap and putting your hands in his hair. “Are you going to leave me tonight?” He mumbled into the tulle of your dress.

A soft smile crossed your lips and you shook your head, then moved to cup his cheeks and lift his face up to look at your own. “Now why would I even consider doing that?” You hummed.

“After that shit show? Any sane person would leave.”

“Whoever said I was sane? Isn’t that why you like me?”

He chuckled at that and nodded, biting back a comment about how anyone would have to be insane to want to stay with him for as long as you had. “That was just some totally bullshit and you know it, doll.”

You shrugged and shook your head once more. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’ve had my fair share of total bullshit with old haunts showing up on our doorstep, huh?” You made sure to keep your tone teasing, not wanting him to feel as though he needed to shoulder any of the blame for the situation.

Adam laughed again and relaxed visibly for the first time all night. “Do you want to even stay?” He asked, his own voice a bit more reassured.

“Of course I want to stay, you’re up for an award, dummy.” You giggle, letting your head fall back as he moved up to pepper your exposed neck with kisses and playful bites. “And there’s the after party — I heard there’s going to be some damn good desserts and music.”

He flashed you a smirk when he pulled back and stood, then offered his hand to you. “What is it you always say when I ask to eat out on the way home from shit?” He proposed.

You stood and took his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing before walking toward the door. “What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Adam’s smirk only widened as he held the door open for you and smacked your ass before letting you go. “We have dessert at home.”

#Adam Sackler #Sackler #adam x reader #adam sackler x reader #sackler x reader #reader self insert #adam sackler fic #sackler fic #adcu #adcu reader insert #adcu fic

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itsbuckysworld · 6 years ago

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Yoga 101 | pt 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Guest Appearance: Natasha World: AU.

Warnings: fluffy, mentions of smut in the form of thinking too much about how sexy bucky is, language.

Summary: Yoga would be the perfect activity for relaxing and just letting your mind go blank, if the yoga instructor wasn’t so fucking nice and so damn hot.

A/N: written for the #omnomwritingchallenge1.1k. My word choice was yoga, so I present to you, Yoga with Bucky, part two. @omnomsauruswrites

Smooches! xoxo L

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Huge huge huge thanks to @delicatelyherdreams, @caitfairwrites and @sunmoonandbucky. Through the almost a month that took me to write this, they helped me with typos, cheering me on and assuring me this was worth writing. I will forever be so grateful to them, and they are now stuck with me loving them too much so whoops. NOT MY GIFS

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PART ONE HERE

a recap:

Your best friend Natasha leaves you, to fend for yourself and try to survive an open air, one-on-one class with Bucky, the hot yogi you’re crushing hard on, that you met by pure mistake in your search for a stress relieving activity.

»»————-　　-————««

Your hands are trembling when Bucky walks you back to your car. Natasha is nowhere to be seen and you don’t know if that’s good or bad.

He taught you the basic movements, keeping it simple yet entertaining. This time around you did feel a bit more relaxed after the session. There was a lot of learning involved and a lot of long sighs when a stretch felt like it was doing its job, even at a beginner level. Bucky would grin at you every time, making your cheeks feel warmer and warmer, not only from the afternoon sun, but because he was Bucky, and that was enough to have you hot and bothered to begin with.

Bucky made jokes here and there, as if it wasn’t hard enough for you to focus on the task at hand. Each time he switched positions, he had to run a hand through his hair and you’d be lying if it didn’t make you feel some type of way – horny, that’s the type of way – but you had to give yourself a medal for keeping it cool despite the long looks he’d throw at you and the husky voice he would speak in when giving you directions.

As you neared your car, you were a little sad the afternoon was coming to an end. As hard as it was to make sense of the english language when he was around, you wanted to spend more time with him. He was funny, kind, nice, gentle, and hot. Honestly a dream come true. A man like that doesn’t come by easily. But another little detail the afternoon had brought to your attention was exactly that. A man like that didn’t stay single for long; there was no way he didn’t have someone waiting for him back home – you could only hope you were wrong to think that.

“Well, I hope to see you again soon” his cheerful tone snapped you out of your thoughts and you spied Natasha leaning against your car as you approached. Her all knowing grin was still there, perfect teeth and silently mocking, as usual.

“Uh, yeah, maybe. I feel a little better now, thanks for today.”

“I’m glad you do. And I’m here to help, anytime.” the warmth in his eyes was almost as unbearable as the summer sun: too bright, too consuming, too much to handle. You’re thanking the universe that you are close enough to your car to get support, because once more, this man has turned your legs to jelly with a single phrase.

“Hmm, fun session?” Nat interjected, her tone filled with mischief and playfulness, the smirk now twisting upwards and you could smell trouble. “Say, Bucky, We’re going for coffee now, would you like to join us?” She throws her arm around your shoulders very casually, her perfectly manicured nails tapping at your arm while you fisted her shirt on her back, trying to get her to stop.

Did you want to spend more time with Bucky? Sure. Did you want it to be with Natasha around playing mind games? Hell to the no. As much as you loved her and knew her glances and smirks seemed harmless – to Bucky at least – you knew her looks are a double edged sword, and you wouldn’t survive getting coffee with both of them. Not when Bucky is a little sweaty and looking very, very good; and Natasha has some sort of unknown plan she’s dying to set in motion, that you don’t want any part of.

To your relief Bucky is quick to chuckle and shake his head, excusing himself.

“That sounds wonderful, but I have some business to attend to.”

“Oh well –” Nat’s dismissal is cheeky, you know her too well –“some other time” There’s another pinch to her side, a warning to stop right now, and you give Bucky a tight-lipped smile. “Some other time” He nods and waves goodbye “Hope to see you Wednesday, Y/N?” he says as he begins walking away, still facing the two of you.

“We’ll see,” you tell him back jokingly, and he rolls his eyes at you in mock annoyance.

“Don’t make me beg, please.” he laughs and shoots you a wink, before finally turning around and being on his way.

Your brain is stuck processing what just happened. Between the one on one time with him, the friendly banter, Natasha and her schemes and that wink. Specially the wink. How come someone looks so hot when winking? Damn this man.

You’re too busy replaying that in your head – and saving it to daydream about during your break at work – to hear the beginning of Natasha’s teasing. She’s holding you by your shoulders at arms length before you know it.

“I never understood the concept of hot yoga, but I think I do now.” You shrug off her hands and open your car door, getting all your things inside and sitting on the driver’s side. Nat is quick to run around and hop in, eager to continue messing with you, you assume.

“Shut up.”

“No way! Here I was thinking I had sold you on yoga when in reality Mr. Amazing-Ass was the one to rope you in – oh, wait, you’d like that”

“Oh my god!” You bury your face in your hands at her words. She’s unbelievable. Note to self, never tell Natasha about any fantasies, ever again. “That’s not it!” “Psh, you’re going to tell me you’re not considering yoga anymore?” You remain silent. “You’re seriously going to pretend you’re not going to class on Wednesday to see his fine ass?” She clicks her tongue and her eyebrows arch in that ‘you can’t fool me’ way of hers, her nails tapping over the console, annoying the hell out of you – not the nails, but the fact that she knows she’s right.

“Ugh, whatever,” you mutter, setting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking space and into the not so busy roads.

“Ok then. I’ll let Scott know you’re not making it to his dinner on Wednesday”

You open your mouth to protest, to bite back, anything… But who are you kidding? You’re going to that class.

»»————-　　————-««

You were resting in Corpse as the last few minutes of Wednesday’s class went by. It had been three full weeks of coming to Bucky’s intermediate classes and Saturdays at the park and your progress was incredible. Not only were you learning poses by their name, you felt more relaxed, well rested and flexible – back ache be gone!

Natasha tagged along for a second Saturday, the teasing strong as ever, but she’d thankfully skipped last time. You hoped it would stay that way, there was only so much you could take of her cunning tone. Good thing you didn’t have to deal with her sassy grin at the center on Wednesdays and Fridays. No, those were the days you got Bucky all to yourself… And another 9 people.

But for a moment before class, at Bucky’s request, you and him would go over poses and your progress, so yeah, you did get him a little bit to yourself here and there, and it was both joy and sorrow.

Time with Bucky was great, he just kept adding to the “reasons this man is amazing” list you had started in your head, with his jokes, and his kindness, and, his warm, inviting smile. All of those things were also incredibly hard to ignore, thus making you crush on him harder, which lead to you always stuttering in his presence. Seeing him so much meant more chances to embarrass yourself. A tricky feat for sure.

The class finished up, people filtering out of the room and spilling out into the lobby feeling refreshed. Any other day and you would have waited for Bucky a little longer – discreetly though, always discreetly – but today there were… Some distractions.

He had let his hair down again, oh what you’d give to hold on to it, and his beard was a little trimmed, making him appear stronger if that was even possible, and he’d decided to wear a tank top, showcasing his arms; tempting, mouthwatering, lean muscle. Neither of those could be good for your blood pressure, or your way too imaginative mind.

Besides yoga poses and breathing exercises, you’d also learned, these past weeks, how to shift your focus from Bucky’s body to something else, but just like with your Camel Pose, you still had to practice more to get it perfect.

Thunder and rain greeted you when you walked outside and stood at the entrance. People opening umbrellas and skipping to their cars to get back to their daily activities. You could have sworn the weather app on your phone said sunny, so your umbrella was nowhere to be found, no matter how many times you rummaged your bag in search of it. You groan, right as Bucky walks out and whistles, surprised at the rain. He’d put on a zip up jacket – thank heavens – no hoodie in sight, though.

“Jeez, my phone said it’d be sunny,” he stands there, hands on his hips as he takes in the environment. It’s not too violent of a storm, but definitely strong enough to know you’d be drenched before you made it to your car. A small laugh escapes your lips at his comment.

“Yeah, mine too. Liars.”

“Looks like it’ll be a while…” Bucky says, reaching a hand out of the cover under the entrance of the rec center, getting the tips of his metal fingers wet under the rain. He smiles at the sensation and you’re entranced by how ethereal he looks. The juxtaposition of his hard metal edges, and his soft flesh curves; his chiseled jaw, and tender looks; the authoritative husky voice, giving soft commands... Bucky Barnes was a living poem you wanted to devour.

A shake of your head to get rid of your thoughts, and you wrap your arms around yourself, as if trying to keep all of that in your chest, warning it not to go anywhere without your permission.

Bucky looks at you, and then past you, the smile on his face growing, the now familiar crinkles by his eyes making their grand appearance, and he lifts his chin, as if pointing. There’s a café in the plaza across the street, about half a block away.

“You mind getting a little wet?”

More than I am? You think, and are quick to scold yourself; this is not the time for such thoughts, Bucky just asked you to get coffee with him.

Wait, what? Bucky had asked you to join him for a coffee? You blink, drawing a complete blank. You should say something, and not just any thing. You should say yes. Why are you not speaking?

“Uh, it’s fine, sure,” you eventually spit out, praying the silence wasn’t awkward while your brain rebooted to answer his simple invitation. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, instead he shakes his hand, ridding it of the rain droplets, and walks up to you.

Like two teenagers, giggling and hopping over puddles, you huddle under your bags – now makeshift rain covers – rushing to cross the street, and you’re very focused on not slipping and cracking your skull with how clumsy you can be.

No one gets injured in the venture, and you and Bucky enter the warmth of the quaint café, shaking droplets off your hair and shirts on the welcome mat. He bellies up to the counter when it’s your time to order, his hands busy putting his hair up in a bun, and then they rest on the marble, all veins and yet so delicate – you fight away memories from times he’s helped you into positions, his warm hands touching your arm to remind you to straighten or bend it. The coffee shop suddenly feels a little warmer.

He bites his lip as he studies the menu, your eyes running over his side profile. From the tip of his brow bone, down the curve of his nose and the dip of his lips, you follow a single raindrop as it disappears down its course over his cheek. When his azure orbs settle on you, meeting yours, you’re not so gently reminded that staring is creepy, and you should snap out of the trance he puts you in.

Orders are placed, you insist on splitting the bill, and Bucky laughs as he agrees and guides you to a booth. For a while now, all your one on one interactions happen with a heavy chant of a mantra: “focus on something other than Bucky”.

This time around, it’s different.

Sitting in front of him, at a café, really sends you for a loop. There’s no space for any distractions, all that’s left is focusing on Bucky, and with good reason, because before you know it he’s talking, asking about your day and getting to know you, and you’re surprised at how well you manage the nerves and bat away images of him in that tank top doing Crane – you’re going to categorise that as a crime. That man doing anything resembling that pose, is an actual felony.

The rain continues to fall outside, whenever you need a breather from looking at Bucky’s pretty face, you turn to see the cars whizz by, the droplets racing down the windows of the café, and then you stare at your hands, wrapped around a warm beverage, mimicking his hands.

You don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s after endless rounds of jokes and questions, two mugs of something warm for each, and a slice of pie, when you dare ask more about him. So far he’s been doing most of the asking, with you throwing the same question back at him or laughing at his stories. More specifically, you wanted to know how it all happened.

“So how did you end up here? Teaching yoga, loving it so much, tricking me into joining...”

He laughs at that last part, putting his hands up after he places his fork down, tongue poking out to collect crumbs of pie, and you’re almost spiraling. “Hey, no trickery.” There’s that soft smile of his again, his body leaning in, elbows anchoring over the table and he looks adorable with his cheek smushed against his palm when he rests it there. “Well, I guess I have to tell you about this guy,” his flesh hand points to the metal appendage. Black shiny hardware and delicate golden lines. “So, when I was around 20, I joined the army.”

Your eyes widen at the thought.

Bucky is so gentle, so soft and chill. He’s like that jock in college that, despite looking strong, you might find him with a butterfly perched on his index finger as he tells you he’s actually an english major who writes poetry before every game. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but regardless of that, Bucky is just… Not the type you could see fighting a war, handling guns and having to witness or cause terrible bloodshed on the field.

“It was… Chilling. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. A moment of hesitation, and before I knew it… Well, long story short –” he coughs a bit and shifts in his seat – “I got sent back home with less limbs and more confusion than when I left.” He pauses, trying to find the right words, but instead he chuckles and shakes his head, licking his lips. You feel bad for even asking, and reach out an arm to stop him, tell him he doesn’t have to say anything else. His metal hand covers yours on his forearm.

“Bucky…”

“It’s fine, really. I was lucky. A friend of a friend knows the Tony Stark, got a sweet arm and, well… Yoga helped… a lot.” He smiles then, squeezing your hand before letting go. You can sense how the mood shifts, now more relaxed, his shoulders drop back down and his hand isn’t almost clenching into a fist. The smile on his face seems more genuinely happy, and now that you know what not-so-happy Bucky looks like, you can tell with certainty that happiness is your favourite look on him. “It helped me relax, it helped me re-learn my body, this black and gold intruder. I fell in love with it, with how good it could make me feel physically and mentally.”

“That’s why you want people to try it so badly?” he nods.

“I don’t mean to act like I know everything about you, but you looked tense,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “and if anything yoga sets out to do, is remove tension, so I just pushed, and I’m glad!” The two of you laugh at that, you finally let go of his forearm, but it’s not long before Bucky reaches out himself, to grab your hand again. There’s goosebumps raising all over your skin and his smile lets you know it’s all okay.

“I’m glad as well. I really like it, and I can’t lie… It’s helped me a lot.”

He shrugs casually. “Then my job has been done”

“Done? Are you breaking up with me?” You place a hand on your chest, faking offense and his head throws back in laughter at this.

“Never! There’s still a lot more for you to learn. You can’t leave until you can hold King Pigeon for 20 seconds.”

“Gee, I can barely do Table for 10, take it easy, soldier.”

He bursts into laughter again, and now the mood has truly changed.

»»————-　　————-««

You’re glad it keeps raining for another 30 minutes, and that they sell drinks other than coffee at the shop, because you and Bucky are ordering smoothies and chatting away until the sun is almost gone and the puddles on the road are the only proof that there was ever any rain.

Bucky walks you back to your car, still in the middle of a story about his best friend Steve and their college roommate Sam, the first time he saw Bucky with his prosthetic. Your belly aches, maybe because of the butterflies, maybe because of the long time spent in Plank back in class, maybe it hurts of laughter, from your afternoon with Bucky. Either way, it’s a pleasant little burn that you’re taking home with you to dream about, along with images of Bucky biting his lip, and having whipped cream from his coffee, on the tip of his nose.

It’s your turn to bite your lip, when you finally reach your car and it’s time to part ways. After a day like this, it almost hurts to say goodbye, but the day has been too perfect to complain.

“Hey, so… Got any plans Saturday?” He asks, leaning his body over the side of your car. It’s not the best moment to think about how he looks like a model, but the thought runs through your head at the speed of light, too fast to catch it before it makes a ruckus.

“Uh, not really–” you giggle, remembering – “Oh well, duh, yoga. At the park.” Bucky laughs along with you, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head as he stares at his feet. It’s a little dark but you can see a faint tint of red cover his features.

“Well, yeah, I just…” he stumbles over his next words, and you don’t mind one bit. Seeing him a little flustered, when it’s always you scrambling to find words to say, it’s a nice change of pace, though you can’t imagine why he would be flustered. “I was thinking, maybe I can take you up on that offer for coffee after class next Saturday? Like your friend said? I just- uh… You know, j-just us?”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe. None of the techniques come to mind now, and the belly ache is definitely because of the butterflies, because they are wild right now. Out of the blue they have multiplied to thousands and thousands.

“Sure.” You’re 100% sure that your smile reaches from ear to ear and it makes it hard for you to pronounce the short word properly, but Bucky seems to have understood whatever you chirped, and there’s a smile of his, mirroring yours.

“Cool… Uhm, well, see you Friday?”

You nod eagerly. “See you Friday”

You had gotten used to a certain kind of proximity from Bucky. Either because of a pose you weren’t holding right, or had just learned and he was there supervising, or from moments like today, when you somewhat held hands over the table as you sipped your drinks. But none of that compared or could have prepared you for the close proximity that was Bucky leaning in to kiss your cheek. His warmth suddenly almost suffocating, his scent filling your nostrils, the slight stubble tickling you in the most delicious of ways, and the chills running up and down, and up and down your spine.

Soft pink lips, warm and tender, pressing a gentle peck to your cheek, the tip of his nose caressing your face – that’s a memory you want burned into your brain.

It’s over way too quickly, but you’ve registered every detail, and it costs you a lot not to hop on the balls of your feet right there and then. Bucky is waving you goodbye, walking over to his own car, parked on the other end of the lot and you fake cool as you open the door and slide inside.

You wait until the door is closed and allow your brain and your heart a few moments to process what just happened – not just this last bit, the entire afternoon – before you let out a scream, a kick, and a squeal, praying to the world Bucky didn’t see that.

In your thrashing about you almost miss his silhouette punching the air in celebration before he gets in his car as well.

All in all yoga had been a wonderful decision.

Fin.

»»————-　　————-««

Hope you guys liked this! Hnnngg isn’t yogi Bucky the absolute sweetest? You’re welcome to sound off about how you think their coffee date went, I wanna hear your ideas.

I want to hear what you thought of this in general! Please, pretty please, let me know, anything counts! Call me beep me if you wanna reach me.

Have a good day lovelies!

HERES MY ASK (please don’t be rude) ||| here’s my Masterlist

xoxo, L.

#yoga 101 #part 2 #bucky barnes x reader #yoga au #fluff #au #bucky barnes #my writing #little l masterlist #fanfic #Yoga

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lesbian-deadpool · 7 years ago

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HOW DO I HANUKKAH?!

Natasha x Reader

Modern AU

Words: 1,103

Warnings: Swearing, it's me, let’s just always assume there's swearing. Pietro... that’s pretty much it. Ends on a kinda cliffhanger.

Request: Nah.

Summary: You know nothing about Hanukkah, Pietro’s weird, but what else is new?

A/N: It's late, and I'm sorry about that. I know nothing about the Jewish religion, as you can probably tell from this fic. But hey, I tried. It’s not the best still. Writer's block os owning my ass. Honestly, there's not much about Hanukkah in this. Mainly just Pietro being weird.

(Not my gif)

"Wait. So you're telling me, that you give gifts, for eight days straight?" you ask form your very adult spot inside the trolley, legs spread taking up as much space as possible.

"Yes- Well, we celebrate for eight days. But we usually give gifts during that time," Natasha explained as she looked through the ugly Christmas sweaters. Because however hard she tried to hide it, she was a complete dork.

"Right, and all of this is because of some magic oil?"

"It's not really magic," said Wanda walking around the corner, two dresses in her hands, "But yes." She turned to Natasha. "Which one do you think, for Stark's party?" she asked moving each dress in front of herself.

"Why are they sparkly?" you asked regarding the silver and red dresses.

"Because it's festive. And the red one, Wanda." Wanda nodded at Natasha's answer, throwing the red dress over your legs, then turning around to return the other dress to its original spot.

"Well, who knows," Natasha started moving to face you, "Maybe I'll get one of those sparkly dresses, then you'll have to wear something sparkly to match." she smiled watching your eyes go wide, and mouth drop in over exaggerated horror. "Or, we could wear matching sweaters."

"Wow, how to choose between two equally awful things?" you hummed in fake contemplation, as Natasha continued browsing the Christmas sweaters.

"Well, I for one will look fabulous at the party," Pietro's voice sounded behind you, making you and Natasha turn to face him.

There Pietro stood, looking down at the price-tags in his hand's that were still attached to the clothes he wore. The ride a camel costume clashed terribly with his blue Christmas sweater, silver suit blazer, and green shoes.

You turned back to Natasha while pointing at the an behind you. "I'll wear anything you want, as long as it's not that."

"Not what?" Wanda asked before her eyes fell on her older brother. With her eyes hazed over, she asked, "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Hey, you best take that foul language out of your God damn mouth, before Steve hears," you said.

"Don't hate me cause you ain't me, Wanda." Pietro posed. "We both know I'm the better-looking sibling."

"Wearing that?" you asked.

"Really?" Natasha asked.

"Ha!" Wanda laughed.

"You all suck!" Pietro huffed crossing his arms.

***

"I can't believe you're buying that fucking costume," you said to Pietro between glances at the camel costume that sat at your feet in the trolley, as you waited in line to pay for your stuff.

"I like it!"

"This is why mom and dad hope you marry rich."

"Oh!" Fucking burn!" you laughed hitting him with a roll of wrapping paper.

"And your parents just hope you get married," Natasha smiled from her spot next to Wanda at the foot of the trolley.

"Hey!" You pointed at her with the wrapping paper. "You're on the receiving end of that."

Her smile fell, whispering, "Shit." before shaking her head, and stating, "I'm leaving you."

"Hey!"

"Ha! We'll both be single." Pietro gasped clapping his hands together. "We can be each other's wingmen!"

You turned to stare at Natasha. "Please never leave me."

***

You hummed at the warm feeling seeping into your bones, a stark contrast to the cold outside. Half asleep you moved closer to the source of the heat. Wrapping your arms around Natasha you pulled her close, the softness of her body pressed against yours, lulling you back to sleep.

"Wake up lesbians!" Pietro bound into your room, startling you both awake.

"What the hell, Pietro?!" you yelled.

"Look at my hair!" he said excitedly. And you could tell just from the tone of his voice, that he was bouncing up and down slightly.

You moved to look at him, seeing his we hair dyed from his natural dark brown to a bright white, resembling the snow falling outside.

"What did you do to your hair?" Natasha asked.

"I dyed it."

"I see that. It's blinding me."

"Is this a Jewish thing?" you asked Natasha.

"No. This is a Pietro thing."

"You can talk. You dye your hair, too," Pietro argued.

"I don't dye my hair."

"You don't?" Natasha shook her head at the man. "That's natural? Wow." Pietro sighed in homage, to which you furrowed your eyebrows.

"It's too early for this shit," you groaned throwing your head back and placing your hands over your eyes in a bid to block out the light.

"Yeah. Let's just agree that my hair's better, and move on," Natasha said playfully.

"Never! My hair is like fresh snow. Yours is like blood."

"Which makes my hair cool. I don't need to dye my hair for that."

"Oh, my God! It is way too early to be having this discussion- again!" You pushed yourself up with one hand, using your other to bang against the thin wall of your apartment, hoping to gain the attention of your neighbour. "Wanda! Your brother's being weird!"

"Piss off, we're trying to sleep!" she yelled back.

"So were we!"

"You get grumpy early in the morning," Pietro regarded.

You reached over, grabbing a random object from your bedside table. "You better get the fuck out, before I shover," you glanced at the wooden toy in your hand, noticing the blue symbols on its sides. "This... spinny thing up your ass!"

"Honey, that's a dreidel," Natasha explained.

You looked at her smiling face. "Then he'll be getting a dreidel up the anal."

"You said it wrong," Pietro snickered making you snap to face him, a glare upon your face, as you started to get up. "Nope, bye!" And with that Pietro ran from the room, the slam of the door telling you he had left the apartment you shared with your girlfriend.

"Finally," you sighed laying back down, "We gotta move. I still can't believe we had the unfortunate luck of moving in between the Maximoff twins. And now we're spending a weekend with them."

"We don't have to do that, you know?" said Natasha as she snuggled closer into you.

"No, you're coming with me to my whacked out family's Christmas dinner. I can spend a Hanukkah weekend with our friends... I can't guarantee that they'll all survive though."

"Don't worry. I'll help you," Natasha's voice was sleepy as you rubbed along her side.

Time passed, you're not sure how long but it was enough for you to ease into a light slumber. Everything was peaceful up until you heard screeching through your thin wall.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?!"

#original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #black widow #marvel #MCU

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sachertortes · 8 years ago

Note

Congrats on your milestone! Excited to follow you! I'd like to request Darcy/Bucky and who knows the number because of formatting but it's "we're always making stupid bets like 'bet you can't drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce' but then you did and now you're sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you." Extra points for any of the other Avengers that show up! Thanks for taking prompts!

@itsnotokbutwereallright Thank you <3 <3 <3 Oh, hey, y’know those kids in school who got really excited at the prospect of extra credit?? That was me ;) Please enjoy, lovely!

Prompt: “we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you.“

Pairing: Bucky x Darcy

Rating: G

Notes: references to vomiting, description is very vague though.

The thing about Darcy was, she wasn’t ever going to save people from a burning building, or rescue an entire ferry full of passengers from alien explosives.

No, she decided to prove herself in smaller ways.

Darcy had silly contests going with the Avengers.

They didn’t mind during their off-time and she did end up feeling pretty good about herself when she could finish eating an entire Caramel Apple Pie before Steve did. (“Make a cheesecake next time,” Steve said amiably after he’d admitted defeat. “And I’ll definitely win.”)

Darcy knew that any contest with Bruce had to be handled with care. She was mulling over what to do when a she heard a tiny ‘mew’ by a trashcan outside the facility.

“Okay,” she said to a bemused Dr. Banner when she returned to the labs. “First person who the kitty chooses as their bestie wins.”

Over the next several days she made kissy noises at it, she called it ‘a pretty baby’, she tried giving it bits of cheese. Still, it did nothing but stare balefully back at her from behind the trashcan. Then one day she was headed out with a can of tuna when she saw that Bruce had beaten her to it. The small, incredibly fluffy grey tabby was rubbing itself along his leg. Bruce looked up at her and smiled.

So, Darcy lost that one technically, but she’d definitely have the image of Bruce with a kitten perched on his shoulder forever. From then on, Faraday the cat lived in Bruce’s quarters.

It was difficult to enter a contest with a billionaire genius but Pepper, once she got wind of what Darcy was up to, gave her an idea.

“I’ll give you both a shopping list, and you complete it,” Pepper told them, while driving to town.

“Alright, pumpkin,” Tony said smoothly. “Where do you want us to shop? Barney’s? Cartier? Tiffany’s?”

Darcy held back a whine. Those places were above her paygrade, literally.

But Pepper just smiled patiently, eyes twinkling. “Target,” she said, as she pulled into the parking lot. She handed them both a list. “First person to meet me back at the car with exactly everything on this list wins.”

Thirty minutes later, Darcy was sprinting through the parking lot (not exactly safe, but she was in it to win it), plastic shopping bags in each hand, to a smiling Pepper.

Tony was already there, grinning smugly at her.

Pepper checked their lists with the contents of their bags.

“Sorry, kid,” Tony told her, looking not at all sorry.

“Actually, I said ‘exactly everything on this list’,” Pepper informed him. “So while you were faster than Darcy, she has everything on the list.”

“What’d I miss??! Pens? Double-Stuf Oreos? I know I got the toilet paper, I nearly knocked down some guy to get it!”

“You’re not missing anything. In fact, you have too much. Tony,” Pepper said, reproachfully. “Why in the world did you buy ten decorative mason jars?”

“I couldn’t help it! The Target Dollar section is right there!” Tony despaired.

She was sprawled out on the common room couch, playing on her phone.

“Heard you bake pies,” came Barnes’ voice from behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to glare at him right in his rakish grin and pretty blue eyes.

“Ooh no you don’t. I am not entering anymore eating competitions with supersoldiers. That stomachache nearly killed me last time!”

He grinned. “Not a pie eatin’ contest, sweetheart. I want one.”

Darcy saw her opportunity immediately. The chance to triumph (however small and silly) over the Winter Solider? Hells yes.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bet me for it.”

“I know. I’ve heard about your little contests. When I beat you –“

“When?!”

“- at Mario Kart, I want a chocolate peanut butter pie,” Bucky said, sauntering away. He pointed a bionic index finger at her. “Don’t skimp on the peanut butter.”

“And what if I win?”

Barnes looked her up and down, and smirked. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Alright, Mario Kart! Barnes versus Lewis, let’s do this!” declared Sam, their judge. He rubbed his hands together and stated with authority, “Today’s challenge mode is…no Blue Shells.”

“Y’know…I think I want whipped cream with that pie,” Bucky said from beside her.

Darcy flexed her fingers before picking up the controller. “I am going to run you right off Rainbow Road,” she promised.

Minutes later, Darcy was cursing Bucky Barnes and his stupidly good aim with the Green Shells. She watched sadly as her Yoshi fell into the void of space.

“Aw, shit. I can’t believe a senior citizen beat you at Mario Kart,” Sam teased.

“Hey!” Bucky and Darcy exclaimed in unison.

She turned to Bucky. “Best two out of three?” she asked hopefully.

He smiled back. “Sure thing, doll.” He picked up his controller again.

“No, Barnes,” Darcy said. “I meant two out of three contests.”

When Bruce invited them to yoga, Darcy had her next idea.

“First person to fall on their asses, loses,” Darcy declared, but Bucky only laughed and agreed. They even shook on it.

They made their way through down dog, table top, and eagle pose. Darcy only barely managed to keep her eyes to herself when Bucky followed Bruce’s instructions into a side plank. There were muscles and rippling and god, when his shirt rode up she could see where his muscle dipped on his hips and continued down lower, lower to – yeah. She snapped herself out of it before she seriously hurt herself.

They were all nice and warmed up and slightly sweaty when Bruce told them face one another. Then Darcy concentrated on breathing and extending and arching her back into camel pose.

She let out a relieved moan. She spent hours sitting in uncomfortable office chairs and the stretch was so nice after a long day.

Suddenly, Bucky cleared his throat and scrambled up from the mat. “Um, I gotta…go –” he said, glancing around shiftily. He took his water bottle and picked up his towel.

“So…I win?” Darcy said, hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, doll, you win this one,” Bucky answered, his voice slightly rough and unsteady.

Bruce watched the door shut behind a rapidly retreating Winter Soldier. “This was a contest?”

“This looks…disgusting,” Bucky muttered. They were in his quarters (surprisingly homey, and not at all as uptight or neat-as-a-pin as she thought it would be), and between them on the kitchen counter were two tall glasses of barbecue sauce. Specifically, the Stubb’s Spicy BBQ Sauce that she brought over.

“That’s the point,” she said. “First person to finish the entire glass wins. All of it.”

Bucky shrugged. “Guess I’ve had worse.” He still gave her an uncertain look, though.

“Okayyyy…Go!”

They began to drink.

The second she brought the glass to her lips, Darcy knew it was a mistake.

First of all, there was the smell. Now, Stubb’s BBQ sauce was delicious, yes. And normally it smelled…nice. Barbecue-y. But that was when it was served with delicious meat. In a glass, on its own, the spicy/sweet/savory scent was not good.

Then, when it actually hit her tongue? The strange gloopy, syrupy texture and an entire mouthful of the sauce on its own was awful. She gulped down what she could (not much) then put down her glass.

Bucky was right. It was disgusting.

Bucky was also finished. Darcy looked at his empty glass in awe.

“Holy shit, you did it!” Her own glass still looked as full as it was before. It was an indisputable win on Bucky’s part.

“Sure did, Darce, and now you owe me a –” Bucky paused, a strange look coming over his face.

“Are you – “

“Oh, god,” Bucky grunted and strode quickly to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

Darcy followed and was about to ask if he needed anything when the sound of his pained groan came through the door. Then came the definite sounds of someone worshipping the porcelain god. She hadn’t heard anything like that since her sophomore year of college.

Darcy winced and moved away from the door. She decided to wait for him on the couch, maybe get an apology in before he kicked her out and told on her to the Captain.

Eventually, there was the sound of water running, then Bucky emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and drawn and smelling vaguely minty.

Darcy shot up from her seat. “Oh my god, are you okay?! I’m so so sorry, I shouldn’t have made you drink that –”

But Bucky only waved his hand distractedly and stretched himself over the couch. His eyes were closed and he was still making little grumbling noises.

Darcy sighed. In the kitchen, she got a bottle of water from the fridge and dampened a kitchen towel in the sink.

She draped the cloth over Bucky’s forehead and pressed the water into his hand. He sat up and drank, one hand on his forehead keeping the towel in place.

“Don’t even like barbecue sauce,” he groused after downing about half the bottle in one go.

“What?! Then why even take the bet?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He capped the bottle, placed it on the coffee table, then lay back down.

“Dude…”

He turned to look at her for a second before shutting his eyes again. “Because…I like spendin’ time with ya, Darce,”

“Bucky…” Darcy began.

Bucky hummed. “I like that,” he said softly. This time he was staring at her.

“Like what?”

“When you say my name. Usually you just call me ‘Barnes’.”

“Oh.” Darcy flushed and bit back a smile. “So, Bucky…if I won…”

“Didn’t agree that you won, yet, sweetheart.”

“If I won, I’d want…” Darcy trailed off and threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. She smiled when he leaned against her hand. “I’d want to go on a date.” She glanced at Bucky somewhat timidly.

Bucky chuckled, eyes alight with mirth. “In that case, congratulations, Champ.”

#wintershock #bucky x darcy #darcy lewis #darcyland #darcyland fic #prompt fill #sachertortes fic

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madisonsclarks · 8 years ago

Text

Time

Inspired by a prompt from @scullbob-mulpants: “In an ambiguous world where Bob no longer exists, Hopper - tentatively and trying to be casual - asks Joyce out for dinner.”

This is almost 4,500 words of pre-season 2 Jopper fluff. There’ll probably be a second part with another 5,000 words of Jopper fluff. I have no regrets. I live in this dumpster now.

***

It’s like clockwork.

Or at least it’s become a pattern, Joyce thinks, looking up from the peanut butter jars she’s been shoving onto the shelf from the cardboard box that sits, torn open, at her feet. She glances at the clock and the door in turn, confirms her suspicions, allows herself a tiny smile feels as natural as breathing.

The bells on the door jingle, proclaiming a kind of sharp announcement through Melvald’s General Store. Usually, the sound sets off faint alarms in the back of her head. A customer. Questions to be answered. Problems to solve. Transactions to ring through. This one – this ringing of the bells – is different. It has been different every Wednesday at noon for a month now, and she thinks it’ll probably continue to be every Wednesday in the future, too. At least if the current pattern keeps going.

She rises to her feet, brushes off the thin layer of dust that collected on her pants while she was kneeling. It doesn’t evacuate the soil-brown material completely, probably because it never really left. No matter how many times she washes these pants, dust and grime cling to them like cigarette smoke.

Which was exactly why he was here, if today followed the cycle. Cigarette smoke.

“Hey, Hop,” she says, offering him a genuine smile, free of the customer service shallowness that often lurks on her lips after a long day or a sleepless night. She could call him Jim, probably. They’re close enough for that now, probably, after all the levels of hell they’ve walked through together. They’re close enough for that now, probably, given the way he showed up – unannounced – on her front porch with a hammer and nails in his hands, to help her fix the hole in her wall. They’re close enough for that now, probably, because every Wednesday at noon he comes in to Melvald’s and buys a pack of Camels and talks with her for longer than a cashier transaction would merit, even though they both know cigarettes are cheaper at the Mobil station and it’s less than a block from his work.

Probably.

But probably isn’t good enough, and her stomach somersaults when she thinks about overstepping some invisible boundary he’s drawn between the first name in his past and the last name in his present.

He greets her in kind, takes his hat off and places it on the counter. It’s the first time since he’s started this ritual that she’s seen him without his blue police jacket. But today feels like the first day of spring – it takes until mid-April in Indiana, but when the warm weather arrives, it’s like a current of electricity sparks across all of Hawkins. Everything that fell out of place during the cold winter months snaps back in again. She even saw Will smile this morning when he realized he didn’t need a jacket for his ride to school: a ray of light she attributes to this, the first warm day.

“So,” he says as she slides behind the counter, turns her back to him to get the pack she knows he’s looking for. “How is everything?”

There’s no one else in the store, but they’re used to talking circles around the fallout from the events of last November. They’ve gotten good at saying everything without saying anything at all, at hiding the truth in plain sight. It’s almost a code they’ve developed without meaning to, the way they talk to each other now.

“Good,” she says, turning to face him. She looks up at him as she places the Camels down on the scuffed glass counter with a soft thunk, sees him raise an eyebrow as if evaluating her statement for validity. He knows she’s good at putting on a show in public, at stitching together her frayed edges for long enough to smile and tell Hawkins to have a nice day. But she can be frayed around him, and he doesn’t have to hide his demons from her, and there’s something comforting to both of them in that.

“Yeah?” he asks, and she knows she isn’t imagining the warmth in his tone.

“Yeah,” she insists, smiling when she thinks of Will’s smile, the way his blue eyes sparkled when he opened the front door. “Will was happy this morning. Really happy. Those nightmares he’d been having, he told me he didn’t have one last night. And I wasn’t sure if he’d ever-“

She stops before the tears start. But this time, unlike so many times before, they’re tears of relief, of a weight being lifted, of feeling free in a way she hasn’t since she walked up the stairs to her son’s room and found it empty. Joyce swallows hard, willing the lump in her throat to flatten itself, masks deeper emotions with a smile that wobbles, trembling, on her mouth. It must be contagious, because when she looks up, she sees his lips quirk in a similar expression.

The boys like him. That much, she knows. Jonathan accepted his presence without question and eventually with enthusiasm during the dozen or so times they had him over for dinner during the winter. Will’s attitude toward the police chief was half awe, half gratitude, and wholly admiring; he even managed to ensnare Jim in one of his board games, though much to Will’s displeasure he’d had to leave before they could finish it.

“That’s great,” Jim says, looking at her with something like pride even though it’s Will who’s had the breakthrough. “That’s progress, Joyce. It takes time.”

He would know better than most, the time that progress takes. They’re haunted by different ghosts, he and Will, but they’re the same species, the same type of thing that lurks over their shoulders and hides in the shadows to come out and prey on them when they’re finally, at long last, feeling better.

Sometimes she wishes Will would talk to Jim. Well, she wishes Will would talk to anyone: the counselor she tried to send him to, his friends, his brother, her. But what happened in the Upside Down is a locked box inside his chest, and no matter how she tries to pose questions or help him, she can’t seem to find the key.

It takes time, she reminds herself, suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for the presence of the man standing in front of her.

She feels the words bubbling up inside her, common sense kicking in too late to push them back down her throat. Later she’ll blame it on the weather, on the good mood that seems to cover the whole city like a fog, that inhaling too much spring air intoxicated her somehow, lowered her inhibitions. But there, standing behind the counter with Jim smiling at her, she asks a question she hadn’t been bold enough to ask before.

“My lunch break is in fifteen minutes. Do you want to go somewhere?”

As soon as the words fly out, she clamps her mouth shut as if in fear that there are more that will spew out like vomit, that her tongue isn’t quite done embarrassing her yet.

Stupid. He has to get back to the station. Why the hell would you ask him that? What if he already ate? What do you think he’s going to do, drop all of his responsibilities to…and now you made it awkward, and he’s not going to want to keep coming to see you, and this is the last time he’ll ever visit you on a Wednesday to buy cigarettes.

And she doesn’t catch the way he blinks, rapidly, as though the simple act of hearing her question has winded him. She doesn’t catch the redness that creeps across his cheeks, so preoccupied is she with the blush forming on her own. She’s so caught up in her instant, overwhelming regret that she almost misses his response.

“There’s nothing going on at the station,” he says. “Sounds good to me. How long is your break?”

She looks at him in shock and awe, only now remembering that she’s brought her lunch from home and can’t afford to waste the sandwich she packed this morning.

“Shit,” she breathes. “It’s a half-hour but I…I brought something from home. I forgot, but it’ll go bad if I don’t eat it today, and I can’t-“

He looks at her knowingly, as though he can see thousands of gears in her head that have whirred into overdrive, overheating, overcompensating. As though he can see her heart thrumming in her chest, beating harder and faster with every second.

“Joyce,” he says, his blue eyes comforting, calming. “I don’t care if we go anywhere. What works for you, works for me.”

Her lips are forming a smile before she realizes her expression is changing, and the fists that had closed themselves around her lungs start to relinquish their grip. Maybe she hasn’t ruined everything, after all.

“Okay,” she says, two syllables of a sigh of relief.

She moves her hands to rest on top of the counter, and they land on the plastic-wrapped package she has yet to ring up. Her smile turns into a kind of mystified laugh, and she wonders how the hell they both seemed to forget the reason he came here in the first place.

Unless, something in the back of her head whispers, that’s not really why he’s here.

She’s never asked him. His ritual is something she’s accepted without question, largely because she worries prying too far into the reasoning behind its existence will destroy it completely. There are mysteries in her life that she needs answered, but Jim Hopper showing up at her work every Wednesday isn’t one of them.

They both look down at the pack of cigarettes in her hand, and she wonders if they’re thinking the same thing.

***

There’s a lonely wooden park bench a few blocks from the store, on the border between downtown Hawkins and the woods. It’s where Joyce goes when she needs peace, where she goes to smoke and slow down her thoughts during the fifteen minutes she’s allotted outside her lunch break on a 12-hour day.

It’s where she goes when she needs to be by herself, just for a few minutes, since that’s often all she has there before she needs to turn around and head back to work. But it’s calming, looking at the contrast between the greenness of the forest and the stumbling bustle of the sleepy city. It’s free of judgmental, pitying stares. And most importantly, it’s quiet.

She has never taken another person there, largely because there’s no one else to share the space with. Jonathan and Will visit her at work sometimes, but rarely when she has a break to spare – and if she does, she’ll walk around town with them, do something more interesting than sit on the outskirts of Hawkins and look at the trees and the fallen leaves, still lying on the ground though fall is long gone.

For that reason it feels almost personal, private. Joyce has never seen anyone else there, and has slowly come to believe she’s the only person in Hawkins who knows of its existence.

It’s there – that park bench – she takes Jim for her lunch break.

There are, of course, benches in the city. There are places that would have been less of a walk. But in the city, they can’t say anything. They’d have to stick to pleasantries – his work, her work, “safe” topics regarding her family – and it would be torture to be with the person she can be open around and close a huge part of her life away.

He picked something up from the sandwich shop across the street from Melvald’s, unwraps it while he talks.

“This is nice,” he says, looking across the road, where trees span for miles. “I didn’t know this was over here.”

She knows he’s enjoying being away from everything, just like she is. There’s a reason Jim Hopper lives in a trailer at the edge of town, just like there’s a reason she stumbled on the bench in the first place.

“I found it on my break, a few months ago. Right after…everything. I went for a walk, and it was here,” she says, remembering that first shift back at the store, the overpowering need to go somewhere else, to be by herself. Spending those fifteen minutes in the tiny break room or in the middle of downtown made everything seem like it was shrinking around her, closing her in, and by the time she left her hands were shaking. “I guess I needed some quiet.”

He nods, understanding.

“When I asked how things were going,” he says, pauses, looks at her. She can feel him trying to fit the words together, and she already knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “I didn’t just mean with the boys, Joyce.”

Her mouth is half-full of sandwich, and she swallows hard enough to make her throat ache. Of course. She should’ve known this conversation wasn’t over, though she’d hoped beyond all hope it was.

The nightmares weren’t something she talked openly about. Will’s state was of more concern to her than her own, and she figured they would go away with time. But she’d told Hopper, exactly once, when he remarked that she looked “like hell” one day on her shift, which was exactly how she felt. She figured he’d take it as a throwaway line, as an explanation for the bags under her eyes and the vacant emptiness of her stare on that day in mid-March. I didn’t sleep well. I had a nightmare. Apparently, he hasn’t thrown it away so much as he’d stored it for later.

She doesn’t know if she’s annoyed or touched. A little bit of both, she thinks as warmth floods her chest. As much as she dreaded talking about it – about her mind and the hells to which it subjected her when the sun went down – she wasn’t used to this. To someone taking an interest in her, outside of Jonathan, around whom she always felt ashamed of showing weakness. God only knew Lonnie never did. She could’ve woken up shrieking, sobbing, struggling for air her lungs and brain wouldn’t let her have, and Lonnie would’ve just rolled over.

“I’m…a lot better than I was before,” she says, choosing every word carefully, walking a tightrope between complete honesty and leaving out information for Jim’s sake. “I still get them, but it’s less often. I’m sleeping through the night most of the time, now.”

The last thing she wants is him worrying about her. The sun seems to grow uncomfortably hot as she waits for his response, and she takes a bite of her sandwich to distract herself.

“I get ‘em, too,” he says, quieter, though there’s no one else around to hear him. “Used to be every night, a few months ago. Now it’s…once a week, maybe. Less than it was.”

This settles like a weight on her chest. The first thing she thinks is the thing she always thinks – that this is somehow her fault. That if Jim hadn’t been so involved in saving her son, if she’d come home earlier that night, if she’d figured everything out earlier…��

They came back from the Upside Down, but part of them – the part giving them nightmares and keeping them up until the tiny hours of the morning – was still stuck there.

Her nightmares are always about Will or Jonathan. About CPR not working, about getting trapped only a few feet away from him, about the monster tearing her sons apart in front of her while she screams, trembles, cries. The Upside Down is recreated in all its overgrown, mucky glory, complete with flickering lights and Barb Holland’s glassy, lifeless stare. She awakes, bedsheets plastered to her with sweat, and only a cigarette smoked on her front porch in the dead of night can slow down the speeding of her thoughts.

“Hop, I’m s-“ she starts, ready to apologize, but he shakes his head, cutting her off.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly, and she closes her mouth. “I wouldn’t take any of it back. Will’s safe. That’s what matters.”

He trails off, fixing his gaze on the horizon, and she wonders what his nightmares are about. Are they about Eleven, who they know is out there, somewhere, in the Upside Down or in the woods? Are they about his daughter? Are they about Will?

He’s giving her a look that makes her wonder if there’s a fourth option hidden there somewhere, and again, she thinks about when he started visiting her every week. It wasn’t the week after they found him, or the week after that…could it have been mid-December? Early January? A few months ago…it could’ve been in that timeframe, or it could’ve been later than that. She won’t ask him to answer that question, so instead she poses a new one.

“How are things at the station?”

“Pretty slow,” Jim says. Not surprising – he once told her the only case he’d had at the time of Will’s disappearance revolved around vanishing garden gnomes. Since he never found them, she once – when things had settled considerably and they could stop looking over their shoulders on dark streets – joked that maybe they were hiding in the Upside Down. It was the first time she’d seen him smile since November.

“Although…” he starts.

“What?”

“I pulled over Jonathan’s friend the other day for speeding,” he says. “The Harrington kid. He was going twenty over the speed limit, right at the edge of town.”

His stare, the cringe in his tone, says he knows this has won him no points with her eldest son. From what Joyce knows about Steve, he’s a good kid. A daredevil, to be sure, and she doesn’t doubt that Jim would’ve had to pull him over. But underneath the bravado, Joyce can see how much he cares. He has a good heart. And he really does care about Jonathan, which is good. She doesn’t remember the last time her son had that – at least with someone his own age – and though they’re an unlikely pair, Steve is a good friend.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah,” Jim says. “First he tried to tell me my radar was broken. When that didn’t work, he said my new jacket looked good on me.”

“Were you wearing a new jacket?”

“No. Same one I’ve had for the past four years.”

Joyce laughs. “What did you do?”

“I let him off with a warning,” Jim elaborates. “Probably should have given him a ticket, but he got pretty upset.”

Joyce grins at that, giving him a smirk. She knows why he let him off with a warning, and though she has firsthand knowledge of Steve’s flair for the dramatic, she doesn’t think Jim is being completely truthful about his reasoning.

“What?” he asks, a slow smile spreading over his lips.

“You’re going soft,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not,” he says, indignant.

“Yes, you are,” she persists, teasing, moving a little closer to him as though minimized proximity will help get her point across. “Letting Steve Harrington go with a warning? Hop, I’m amazed at you.”

He gives a snort of a laugh, redness creeping across his cheeks. The change in complexion lets her know she’s hit home, though she’s only joking, and she considers thanking him for what he did. It’s no secret – at least among the kids – that Steve and his dad don’t get along, and coming home with a speeding ticket would have made things worse. But when she looks back at Jim he’s smiling, a softness in his gaze that both softens her heart and disarms her completely.

“He’s a good kid,” Jim says. “Doesn’t read speed limit signs, but a good kid. Figured I could let him off easy. Just this one time.”

“Well, I’m sure he appreciated it,” Joyce says.

“He better have,” Jim says. It’s probably supposed to sound threatening, but with his cheeks still a little pink and his mouth still quirked in the barest hint of a smile, she finds it utterly endearing.

Joyce looks down at her watch – five minutes until she has to be behind the counter again. And although he said work is slow, she can’t help thinking he needs to get back to doing something, even if he’s just sitting behind his desk at the station or pulling over speeding teenagers. The thought of going back to work makes her chest feel hollow, though it isn’t the work she’s dreading so much as the lack of company. It’s easy to feel alone in a store full of people, and even easier now than it was years ago.

She feels alone when she’s with Karen Wheeler, who doesn’t know anything about what happened. She feels alone when she meets Steve’s parents for the first time, who stare at her like she’s a hole in a pair of jeans, something desperately in need of patching. She feels alone when she talks to her co-workers, who love to talk to her about her son, the “boy who came back to life” – and she forces herself to recount a completely fake story that tastes like soap in her mouth.

But she doesn’t feel alone with Jim. She never has.

His visits are a highlight of her week, and she wonders why they didn’t start doing this before. Well, she remembers, probably because there was snow on the ground. It took the first day of spring and all the lightening of inhibitions that came with it for her to say those damn words, and now she’s elated that she did. Even if it’ll make it that much harder to go back to ringing up customers that aren’t Jim Hopper.

He catches her looking at her watch, seems to know what that means.

“Before we head back,” he says, “there’s…” he stops, takes a deep breath. “Something I wanted to ask you.”

Joyce catches the stumble in his sentence, blinks a few times in surprise. Her first worry is what her first worry always is: that something has happened with the lab. That they need to bring Will in, or that they’re sending Jim somewhere, or…she can’t keep going. But his tone isn’t right for that, it’s not heavy. It’s almost…nervous? He leans back a little on the bench, leans forward again, as though he’s knocked his posture off-balance and can’t seem to find the right calibration again. What would Jim have to be nervous about?

“Sure,” Joyce says, trying to keep her tone neutral. She knows anything that makes Jim nervous should probably make her nervous, too, but she’s not used to being the calmest half of the present pairing. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Jim says, and she has the feeling he’s stalling for time. He’s still fidgeting a little, looking at her and then looking away, staring out into the forest for a second as if he’s asking the trees to give him his next sentence. “I was wondering if you want to have dinner sometime.”

Joyce smiles, though she frowns a little too. They’ve had dinner plenty of times. He knows he’s always welcome at the Byers house, though she has to nag him incessantly to take her up on the invitation: she can tell he always feels like he’s intruding, like he’s taking food from her family.

“Of course,” Joyce says, “you’re always welcome to have dinner with us! Just let me know when you’re coming over, and I’ll figure out what to make. Can I tell Will? He would be so excited to know you’re-“

His face falls, and he cuts her off with a quiet, steady interruption, as if he’s afraid of being overheard by the trees or the empty road.

“I, uh, didn’t mean it that way.”

Oh.

Her breath catches, and she feels her heartbeat starting to pick up speed. There’s really only one other way he could have meant it…and suddenly, a hundred puzzle pieces click into place. His nervousness, when he said he had to ask her something. The consistent Wednesday visits. The way he looked at her sometimes, like he was working up the nerve to say something but couldn’t make himself talk.

Jim Hopper, Hawkins’ Chief of Police, the man who saved her son, her onetime high school boyfriend, is asking her on a date.

If she starts thinking about it, she’ll think herself in circles. She’ll lose herself in a maze of “what ifs” and “what would the boys think?” and “ruining the friendship,” although she suspects now that what they’d both been feeling had sped past platonic long ago, twenty miles per hour over the speed limit like Steve Harrington in his dad’s car.

She’s caught herself staring at him the same damn way he looks at her – only her, if the rumors around town were to be believed, but she never did. Not until today. He really had left his old lifestyle in the past, or so it seemed; she could hardly imagine the early 1983 model of Jim Hopper practically stuttering his way through that question. The thought that she might have been the catalyst for that shift is both overwhelming and electrifying, too much to consider and impossible not to ponder.

Her heart feels both light and full, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Who would’ve thought fifteen years of growing apart would push them back together again?

Jim’s looking at her with an equal mix of hope and trepidation, and she realizes she’s unintentionally been keeping him in suspense.

“Yes,” she blurts.

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, stunned, like she’s punched him in the face instead of accepted his offer. After a few moments her response seems to sink in, and he’s smiling that wide smile that threatens to split her heart open with sheer joy, his eyes sparkling like the ocean on a summer day. They’re both grinning at each other like the lovestruck teenagers they once were, the birds singing in the trees serving as the only witnesses to their moment.

“All right,” he says, looking at her with that same look, the one she now has a definition for after months of searching, after seeing him stumble into Melvald’s and shake snow off his boots on that first Wednesday in winter.

“All right,” she repeats back. On a wildly uncharacteristic impulse, she leans in and presses her lips to his cheek, the warmth of him radiating through her entire being.

All right.

And for the first time in a long time, she thinks everything really might be.

#jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #hopper #my fic #emily writes

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huntertales · 8 years ago

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Preview: Nice Girls Finish Last. (Swan Song S05E22)

Episode Summary: The showdown between good and evil is at hand. With the apocalypse looming, the reader, now a demon, abandons the Winchesters to work at Lucifer’s side to help further his plans along. Sam and Dean realize they are out of options to save her and the fate of humanity. They are forced to make heart-breaking decisions that will change their lives forever. Warnings: Demon!Reader, mentions of violence, blasphemy. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Very minor Lucifer x Reader) Word Count: 3,574.

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[Excerpt taken from: “Swan Song” By Carver Edlund.]

On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville—a blue two-door Caprice.

There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car—no, the most important object—in pretty much the whole universe.

She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving Bibles to the poor 'gettin' folks right for Judgment Day.' That's what he said. Sam and Dean don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile. Y/N, well, she might find the man's favorite pastime of spreading the word of God a bit wasteful. As he was in need of one himself real soon after he gotten himself comfortable with the bottle. But, when nobody was looking, she would crack a smile herself.

After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a couple of friends. I guess that's where this story begins.

And here where it ends.

This story ends with three people nobody really knew who would be so important to this world—Team Free Will. It was a cheesy name they called themselves over a round of some cheap beer. Dean, a high school dropout with six bucks to his name. Sam, the ex-blood junkie. Cas, who couldn’t participate in the sullen loss, but he was given the nickname of Mr. Comatose. (When told the name he was given by Y/N, the angel was all but baffled.) And Y/N, Rosemary’s Baby...all grown up. These people were the reason why this world wasn’t going to end in misery. But they didn’t do it alone. They had help of some unlikely friends they gained along the way.

Some are still here to see this journey through whatever end waits for them, others have had their time cut too early. Death is a scary ending for anyone. But it’s nothing new for the Winchester brothers and their best friend. They have been to Heaven and Hell, saw death as a lesson from a rouged archangel who posed as a trickster since the beginning of time. Y/N even split a pizza with Death himself not too long ago. The three of them still remain. Two brothers and their best friend, lost in separate parts of the world...not quite sure how they ended up here. But there was no plans of stopping here.

The Winchester brothers have always had a close family bond. Dean practically raised his little brother as his own with a father that was absent most of the time, not there to answer a six year old’s question about why they moved around so much. Mostly it was about why they didn’t have a mother. Or why they changed schools so much. Dean did the best that he could. Sure, he was tough on the guy. He was upset when he left for Stanford, fell down a path that wasn't right for him. But it was all out of love. And even when there was a moment of time where he wanted to give up on it all, there was someone holding the Winchesters brothers together. Someone who would die for them, instill a positive speech when Dean wasn’t quite feeling up to it himself. And place a slap across the cheek, if necessary.

According to John Winchester, Y/N was a spitting image of her mother—not just in looks, but with a personality to match. She cared too much for people she didn’t know and got herself lost in a world that once scared her after realizing the things in the bump in the night were real. Once she took it as a compliment, but after getting to know the real Ella Y/L/N, she slowly started to despise her. However, it never lasted for too long. Parents like John and Ella were doing the best they could considering what they knew...what they brought upon them.

+ + +

Sam Winchester sat on the hood of the Impala and observed the scenery that brought him peace and quiet for the past half an hour. The scrapyard that Bobby called a business was a sore eye from all the crushed cars and dirt roads that lead to nowhere, but it was better than staring at some dusty book, wondering if there was any other way to stop this. He was pretty sure not too long ago there was a way to make sure that at least a few people were able to have a happy ever after. Now...he wasn't so sure anymore. About anything.

The person who should be sitting here right next to him, telling him that everything was going to be okay while enjoying a cold beer was gone. Where was she? Somewhere lost in her own skin, that’s all he really knew. Some might say she finally given up and decided to let it take control. Whatever sort of tricks that Lucifer put on her was the straw that broke the camel’s back. But Sam had faith. He had to. Y/N did it for all those years. From sending him off to college and trying to make sense of his psychic abilities. All the way down to the last second of him freeing the Devil himself from the cage. She never once looked at him differently. She always offered a landing hand to pull him back to safety. It’d be selfish of him not to return the favor one more time.

The young man might have been on board with jumping into the pit and giving himself up for a life of misery, his brother had still been on the fence about the whole thing. Perhaps it was the gorey details of drinking blood from Y/N that made him a bit squeamish. But he would come around to it eventually. And he did. Dean joined his little brother for a beer from the little green cooler and finally forced himself to discuss the matter. Dean realized his little brother wasn’t so little anymore. While he didn’t agree with it, he knew it was the right thing to do. The both of them knew the fate of the world depended on this. And most importantly, if there was any reason to let Sam say yes to the Devil, it was for the sake of getting Y/N back. Safe and sound.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Saying yes to the Devil was exactly the same, as it required some gut wrenching elements Sam needed to take if he wanted to be strong enough just be considered a vessel. It was the unfavorable demon blood that once tore apart a family. And make it a double. The brothers were no strangers to killing a demon or two in their time, or even the more gruesome side of hunting. Beheading vamps and burning hundred year old corpses is not for the faint of heart. But if they wanted to get their hands on some grade a pure demon blood, they needed to lower their moral standards and risk a few lives.

Did you know the average human body contains one and a half gallons of blood? That's how much the brothers and Cas managed to get after they found a couple of low-ranking demons, tied them up by their feet like some cattle and slit their throats clean. It was enough to fill up four gallons and stuff it into the trunk for later use. Sam stood in the basement cleaning the knife with a blank expression. While Dean was no stranger to a gory sight, he found himself feeling little green in the face as he followed Cas and his brother out to broad daylight again to fill the blood in the trunk. The man reached a finger to his cheek when felt something tickling his skin. It took only a second before he realized it was a spec of demon blood.

Dean, however, averted his attention over to the older hunter who sat working diligently outside of his van as he shuffled through newspaper and important looking documents. For a second Dean thought that he saw Y/N standing right at the man's side working silently next to him, avoiding what had just unfolded at all cost. It wasn't that she would be squeamish at the sight of blood. It was the truth she couldn't handle. And seeing Sam drink a nurse clean of her blood was enough to burn a permanent visual inside her mind. She would still be looking for a way out until the bitter end. Dean blinked, watching as her body disappeared from his sight, making him feel a bit startled at the tricks his mind was able to play on him.

The older Winchester brushed off the hallucination he had as his eyes wandered over to Sam and Cas, the both of them were preoccupied in making sure the blood would stay safe. He headed over to Bobby to see if he found anything useful, and like always, a sarcastic jab was never far from falling out of his mouth. “I still can’t get used to you at eye level.” Bobby responded with a tight smile as he rolled his eyes. One demon deal that wasn’t completely wasted was getting Bobby’s legs back to normal. The hunter looked over at the building, curious to see if he had been right about his prediction. “As always, Yoda. Two stunt demon's inside, just like you said.”

“Did you get it?” Bobby asked, hopeful this hit wasn’t a wasteful one.

“Yeah, all the ‘go juice’ Sammy can drink.” Dean said. He looked over his shoulder to see his brother wiping his fingers of whatever blood that had accidentally spilled out before wiping it on his jeans. “Now we just need is chemical X. Then everything should be set.”

An grim, uneasy look settled into the oldest Winchester’s face when he began to drift off to what happened just a few days ago. The image of Y/N hovering over Sam, forcing him to drink her blood was gut wrenching just from the memory. But to know that it wasn’t her doing, that there were two other personalities taking over her actions made it worse. Dean never had the pleasure of knowing what it was like to be possessed by a demon. Having Satan himself and your own demons working against you, it was a losing battle. And the four of them gave the ammunition, thinking it was the way out of this nightmare. But he was only falling deeper, the light was growing smaller and smaller.

“You okay?” Bobby’s question broke the younger hunter out of his thoughts.

“Not really.” Dean admitted truthfully. But there was no time to talk about their feelings. “What do you got?”

"Not much. These look like omens to you?" Bobby handed over a few newspaper with a few headlines that discussed the unnatural weathers spreading across the states. "Cyclone in Florida, temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A."

“Wait.” Dean stopped the hunter when he heard a familiar city. “What about Detroit?”

“Temp’s dropped about twenty degrees,” Bobby explained. “But only in a five-block radius of downtown motown.”

“That’s the one.” Dean said, tossing the newspaper to the back of the van with the rest of the papers. “Devil’s in Detroit.”

“Really? As far as foreboding goes, it’s a little light in the loafers. And there's no sign of the usual demon omens, either." Bobby said, attempting to tread around lightly around the subject that nobody dare say. Not just yet. "You sure?"

Dean nodded his head to answer the older hunter's question. He looked back over at his little brother when the trunk slammed shut. The both of them exchanged sullen glances, knowing this is where the younger Winchester went to die. He could only hope this act of bravery would be enough to save one of their own before it was too late.

+ + +

She might have won the battle, but she won the war. For someone who was so smart, so sure of herself that she could win...she should have known better. Pride was a sin, after all. And nice girls always finish last last. And she was being punished for fighting all those years by being trapped in her own body, unable to do anything but watch. Y/N knew she was still in there, clawing and begging for her life to be let out one last time before the darkness took over and she'd be forever trapped in the confinements of her own skin. All of her memories of a life once before were slowly being…Y/N refrained herself from saying destroyed. Destroyed was such a harsh word to describe what he was doing for her. He was...upgrading. The rose tinted glasses she’d worn for the first twenty nine years of her life were finally being taken off to reveal a world that was never kind to her.

A mother who selfishly molded her into her perfect child. Friends who always looked at her a bit differently for her interests, forcing her into liking what they liked. Two brothers who mistreated her, brainwashed her into doing exactly what they wanted. They used her like some kind of common whore. Y/N and this doomed planet was abandoned by a God who didn't care anymore, despite her best effort after she was murdered by those two hunters. Wasted all for nothing.

Y/N could feel her fists tightening as she adjusted her crossed arms to keep her anger in check. She took a step forward to the large window that overlooked the quiet city street below. They would get what's coming to them. Bobby, Castiel. The Winchesters. This whole world will. She didn't need anyone. Expect for him. And only him. He would give her salvation from the guilt and depression forced upon her from her actions. Thanks to him, she was gone forever.

The old Y/N was dead, long live the new Y/N. The old Y/N might have been able to fight off her natural abilities before, but it was impossible now. She thought before an angel’s grace would have been the golden ticket to saving her soul from rotting to the very core. Nobody questioned where it came from, nobody would have suspected Lucifer to be so sneaky. So kind to free her from a lifetime of misery if she were to stay human. Nobody would ever love her the way Lucifer did. He was the only one she needed.

In the new world he would bring, there would be no more God to worship. No figure to bring words of a holy place. Only Y/N and Lucifer. Together the both of them would rule over this sad little planet that was rightfully theirs. Heaven and Hell at her fingertips, all the little angels and demons who did her wrong will finally suffer as they made her did. His queen. It's what he called her as he softly brought the back of her hand up to the lips when she had shown improvement. The grace he had given her and the demon blood were mixing well together. It took a little bit of effort before she was feeling like the person she was always meant to be. No pain, no gain. Y/N peered down at the city street below of an abandoned apartment building above some little Chinese restaurant she and Lucifer have been occupying over the past few days in Detroit, Michigan. She knew they were coming, it was just a matter of time until they got themselves prepared and Sam ate his Wheaties. She head tilted to the side as she mindlessly reached to play with the locket hanging off the gold chain when a couple walked down the street, hand in hand with a matching smile on their faces. They make their way by, unaware of the person watching them. The old Y/N would have smiled to herself and thought the sight was kind of cute, as it reminded her of a certain someone that she loved once upon a time.

Now, Y/N wondered what it'd be like to slit their throat and see how the only would beg and cry for her to stop. Human emotions—it's something Y/N didn't miss anymore. Along with her clothes that were thrown in some dumpster after being stained with all that demon blood she drank. Her new clothes she was wearing now made her feel better, more powerful to match her new title. Mother of Darkness. Queen of the damned. And if anyone had a problem with it, they could face the consequences of her wrath.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trap her and those Winchesters are trying to pull? I mean, first it was Crowley that went off the deepend. And then Brady? Not to mention how many demons she's slaughtered over the years. She drinks some demon blood, changes her clothes and then suddenly she's the new boss around here?"

“I don’t know, man. Nobody tells us anything. They just tell us to go along with it and shut our mouths. But...you gotta admit, though. She's kinda hot a demon....Oh, come on! Don't give me that look. I seen you eyeing her ass when she isn't looking. You could bounce a nickel off that thing. What I would do if I got fifteen minutes alone with he—”

The demon's words fell short when he felt something wrap around his throat, as if someone was trying to rip him out of his meat suit, but never quite getting there, making him suffer. The sounds of shoes echoed off the walls as Y/N stepped out from the corner she had been hiding in to see what the conversation was all about. Her lips were stretched into a friendly smile as her arm was outstretched in front of her, Y/N’s hand clenched into a tight fist as she watched the demon choke and attempt to free himself from whatever she were doing to him. Y/N let him suffer for a little longer as she slowly looked over at his partner, wondering if he wanted to participate in the same punishment However, the man seemed to be the smart one in their little duo. He straightened himself up and quickly looked away, a look of fear settled in his eye.

Y/N continued on the punishment for a few more grueling seconds before she unclenched her fist, letting the demon go from her grip she had on him. He fell to the ground as he inhaled a deep breath, but it only lasted for a moment until he felt a grip around his throat. Y/N crouched down on the ground and sank her nails into his skin, her head titled to the side slightly as she looked at him directly in the eye. She wanted to make it quite clear of who he was trying to mess with.

“Look, I understand changes are tough. I wasn’t your best friend that long ago. But you want to know what happened to the last person who talked to me like that? I’ll give you a hint. It involved me cutting out his tongue. All before I slit his throat clean. There’s dozens of you here. I doubt Lucifer would dare if you suddenly...dropped dead.” Y/N said, her tone was eerily calm as her words were haunting enough to make the demon listen. “If you have a problem with who’s in charge now, I can make it easy on you and send you back to Hell with all your buddies. Like...Lilith, Azazel, Alastair, Ruby, Brady...and all the other sad sons of bitches who got wasted. You want that?”

“No, ma’am.” The demon whispered in a quiet voice, understanding his role better.

"All right! We're here, you sons of bitches! Come and get it!"

Y/N looked over her shoulder and out the window to hear someone shouting from outside down the street below. Her tongue poked out between her teeth when she heard a familiar voice come from outside, it didn't take much of a memory to recognize who the voice belonged to. She pushed herself up to her feet and walked over to see the sight of two faces charging forward to the apartment. She shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her mouth. It was like a lamb being lead to the slaughter after one of their own was dragged away. It would only be a matter of time until the Winchesters found out where she was to try at their usual routine of saving the day. But not tonight. Never again.

Y/N’s eyes flickered black as her lips stretched into a devilish smirk. She turned her head to face the two demons, “How about you make yourselves useful and help greet our guests?”

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thekuroiookami · 8 years ago

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KnB (Akashi x Reader): The Queen’s Gambit - Part 4

About two weeks after Rakuzan High had resumed its normal acitivities, Akashi realized he wanted a bit more than friendship from you. It didn’t actually start out as a coherent thought, but was more a series of impressions he built up over the course of time. The clincher, as always, was another guy. To be specific, it was Hayama.

Akashi had never really thought about friendship in his 17 long years of life, being occupied with other things; namely, overwhelming victory. Oh, he understood the concept, but on a theoretical basis, like the way you know a galaxy exists but cannot really envision it. He supposed what they had at Teiko was a sort of friendship, before everything had gone to pieces, anyway. What a friendship entailed on a daily basis, and what it felt like – he wasn’t familiar with these things. That’s why, when he looked at you, he wouldn’t know to identify what feelings were friendship and what weren’t.

So it came as a bit of a revelation when one of the most clueless people on the team had to point it out to him.

“Say, captain. Are you sure you’re not dating _____-san?” Hayama scratched the back of his head, understandably nervous.

Akashi paused in the hallway and turned to look at him. The red-head frowned slightly. Mibuchi and Nebuya went pale at the destruction that was sure to follow this effrontery. Hayama flinched a little, but stayed firm.

“I believe I explained this already, Kotarou. Firstly, my personal life is none of your business, and secondly, she and I are friends. Nothing more.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t seem like it to anyone else. Are you sure you’re not mistaking one for the other?”

“If I thought the opinions of unrelated passers-by were worthwhile, I’d never get anything done. What exactly is your point?”

“I’m just saying, once you get over the fact she can dismember you single-handedly, she’s a nice girl. It seems like a waste. Honestly, Akashi-kun, when are you going to find a girl who’s not terrified or over-awed by you again? Plus, you sure don’t look at her like a friend does.”

The recipient of this sage advice had his eyes narrowed into slits. “Care to explain?”

Hayama gulped and plowed on anyway, since he’d come this far. Mibuchi sent up a silent prayer for his soon-to-be-departed soul.

“You look at her like…like you’re at a tough match. Like you’re enjoying every second of a challenge. I don’t really know how to say it.”

Reo piped in, why the hell not, they were all going to run extra laps anyway.

“Let’s think of it this way, Sei-chan. If Kotarou over here were to ask your pretty ‘friend’ out, how would you feel?”

Akashi’s frown intensified. “I don’t think that would be my business in any way.”

“Really?”, Reo drawled. “Not even if he were to flirt with her like that guy over there is doing now?”

Everyone turned in the direction of Mibuchi’s hand flutter to see you talking cheerfully to a fellow second year. The young man in question leaned against the wall in a suave pose, one arm braced near your head. He was tall and attractive, and you were smiling up at him. Akashi felt an unpleasant feeling churn his stomach.

Reo continued his attack, driving the knife in deeper. “He could be asking her out right now. It’s not like she doesn’t have her share of admirers. There are quite a few people into the onee-san vibe she gives off. I saw her get a letter in her locker last week.”

Akashi gritted his teeth, vaguely feeling the need to set the fool talking to you on fire. You laughed at something the miscreant said, and he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. The pencil in Akashi’s hand snapped.

Mibuchi poised for one final blow. “So are you really telling us, Sei-chan, that you’re ok with some other guy touching and kissing her?”

That seemed to have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, for Sei-chan had crossed the hall in three fluid strides and now loomed behind you with a dark aura. The boy talking to you widened his eyes in shock, and slowly started backing up. You looked around in confusion.

“Aikawa-kun, what’s wrong?“

“Aikawa-kun, is it? I’d like to speak to ______ here for a moment. Perhaps you’d like to leave?”

It didn’t seem much like a request when Akashi said it with that expression. One eye glinted dangerously gold. When the boy made no attempt to move, Akashi decided a display was in order. He slipped an arm around your waist, making you jump in surprise.

“Seijuro?! What on earth?”

He said nothing, simply pulling you back until your back was flush against his chest, and tightened his arm around you. He gripped your chin gently and tilted your head to the side to brush his lips against the pulse in your neck. It was a sensitive spot, and his breath whispering over your skin sent electricity down your spine. Your face went completely pink and you gripped his wrist, trying to pull him off.

“Akashi, stop, this isn’t-“

He lazily looked back up at the other boy. Poor Aikawa’s sense of self-preservation kicked in and he practically ran in his haste to get out of range.

Don’t ever touch what’s mine again.

“…look, Sei-chan, are you listening? You need to get to know her first, take her out on a date.”

Akashi shook himself out of a very satisfying daydream to catch his team mates looking at him with concern. He cast one last look at you talking to Aikawa-kun, totally oblivious to the imaginary murder that had taken place, and stalked off. The others just watched him go, shaking their heads.

Nebuya’s massive shoulders drooped a bit. “We’re going to pay for that one, aren’t we? What even possessed you to bring that up, Hayama?”

Kotarou sighed, feeling defeated. “You remember the first time ______-san came by to practice? We were having a joke-off. Something about who could tell the best knock-knock jokes.“

Nebuya and Mibuchi nodded.

“And then we asked Akashi to join in. He said he didn’t know any knock-knock jokes, but he could try another one.”

Everyone collectively cringed at the memory.

Reo winced some more thinking about the timing of it all.

“He said something about Schrodinger’s cat, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” said Hayama glumly. “Is Schrodinger’s cat alive or dead? Dead…”

“…because domesticated cats live for about 13 years,” Nebuya finished for him.

They grimaced some more at the fresh reminder. Back then, the collective reaction had been total silence. You’d walked in just in time to hear Akashi’s unintended attempt at gallows humor, and stopped short like everyone else.

“The joke was bad enough, but then Akashi was looking at us all like he was perplexed. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to be the one who told him that he failed at something. But then ______-san started laughing.”

Reo smiled at the memory. “Honestly for a moment there, I thought she was as bad as Sei-chan and had a twisted sense of humor. Thankfully she was just amused by his inability to tell a joke.”

When you’d finished laughing, wiping a tear from your eye, you’d almost dissolved into giggles again at the sight of their faces.

“Oh my goodness, Seijuro-kun, that was so anti-climactic. Who knew you’d actually be bad at something? It could have been worse though, couldn’t it?”

They didn’t see how, so you thought for a moment.

“What do you call a dog with no legs?”

No one wanted to think too deeply about the answer, so you took pity on them.

“It doesn’t matter what you call him, he isn’t coming.”

Even Akashi had been horrified at that one. You’d just shrugged and pointed out that at least it wasn’t a dead baby joke. From there it turned into a competition to tell the best anti-joke.

“It was almost impressive how she came in and turned a potential minefield into a bonding experience,” Reo mused.

“Yeah. Well. That’s when I thought Akashi should put in some effort and make her his. When is he ever going to find a girl like that again?”

Hayama looked down at his toes. “He’s become a nicer person since the Winter Cup, so I want him to be happy too. And he looked happy that time.”

Reo pouted a little, then sighed. “As much as I hate the thought of someone snatching away Sei-chan, you’re right. For his own good, we have to make him see the light. Especially after his reaction the other day…”

Nebuya and Hayama looked at him with interest. “The other day?”

“Oh, you guys weren’t there, were you? I was passing by the student council room when it happened. Sei-chan and ______-chan were in there, talking about some boring reports, who knows. Then his phone pinged and he stopped talking to look at it.”

Akashi looked up at you from his desk with that expression of blank non-understanding he very rarely had. “___. What’s an eskimo kiss?”

You paused in the midst of rolling up a banner. “Why do you ask?” you said cautiously.

“Kise just sent me a message saying something about Moriyama-san practising it on Kasamatsu-san. He also thinks Moriyama-san is dead, so I’m not sure how seriously to take this.”

You pursed your lips, trying to hold back the laughter. You could have sworn you heard someone snicker outside, but you chose to ignore it.

“It’s a gesture of affection where you rub your nose against someone else’s, like a kiss. Mothers like to do it with their children. It’s very cute, I have lots of younger cousins that do it.”

Akashi was still vaguely confused, so you let out a breath in frustration. “Like this.”

You set the files down and moved closer. He just watched you, intrigued. You bent down and slid your hands up to his cheeks. Akashi went very still.

You closed your eyes and briefly hoped this wouldn’t come back to bite you. Very gently, you brushed your nose against his, shaking your head.

Akashi stayed as he was, wide-eyed. Your fingers were cool against the warmth of his skin.

You opened your eyes and stepped back. “So…yes. That’s what it is. I’ll just take these files and leave now.”

You left Akashi smiling a little to himself, not noticing a gleeful Mibuchi hovering by the doorway.

“…and that’s how I decided Sei-chan needed some romance in his life.”

Kotarou’s and Eikichi’s jaws look a little dislocated, but they recover quickly.

“But first, he needs to take her on a date. Which he has realized now, hopefully.”

Everyone looked at the shards of pencil on the floor.

“We can only hope.”

It was a nice day to be out, you thought to yourself. It was sunny, the weather was pleasant, and the birds were singing…Too bad you had to stay in and do chores. Oh well, maybe another time.

You shook out the last of the sheets and hung it on the line to dry. When you bent down to pick up the laundry hamper, there was the rumble of a car coming down the street. A very large car. You leaned over the fence to see a…limo?

Did someone lose their way? That car barely fits into the street. Oh no, they’re slowing down. I hope they don’t ask me for directions…

The gleaming white behemoth came to a stop. A uniformed chauffeur leapt out and grandly opened the door to let a familiar figure step out.

Oh. Why am I not surprised? Not even a little bit.

“Good morning, Seijuro. What a pleasant surprise.” You greeted him like rich heirs drove up to your house every day.

“_____. Lovely as ever, I see. May I come in?”

Does he have a head trauma? Lovely? I’m in a hoodie and my hair is a messy bun. What is he up to now?

“Of course, though you’ll have to excuse the untidiness, we weren’t expecting visitors. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Look at us, talking like we’re trying to ace butler training. He’s as uncomfortable as I am, apparently.

“Hmm, I have my reasons.” He was being enigmatic about the whole thing. Again, not surprising.

You led him into the living room, where a puzzle was scattered across the low table, next to a vase of daisies. It looked like the twins were up and about. From the kitchen, the smell of soup wafted out, along with sounds of movement and dishes clattering. The room was decorated in earthy colours, with a sofa that looked comfortably lived in.

Altogether, it was a scene of domestic cosiness, which is why Akashi looked so out of place in it. Dressed in a crisp shirt and jeans, he looked downright delicious. But still out of place. It wasn’t that he was overdressed or anything, but more that he had an air of expensive elegance about him. You looked at him and thought of candlelit dinners and wine. That’s just how it was.

He’s doing wonders for my self-esteem. I’m just glad he missed me in pyjamas. I would never live that down.

For his part, the interloper was looking around with interest. His gaze lingered on photos of your family at the beach, and on the novel you’d been reading last night. No doubt storing and processing all the information for some later date.

You cleared your throat, focusing his attention on you again.

“Since I’m sure you will tell me about your abrupt appearance at your own pace, I won’t ask. Before I think too deeply about how you knew my address, would you like to meet my family first?”

Akashi gave a slight smile at your accurate observation. “Of course. I must greet your parents and apologize for intruding so early.”

You raised an eyebrow, but went over to the kitchen door without comment.

“Mama, we have a visitor. It’s a friend from school. Could you come over for a second?”

“A friend? This early? Is it Reina-chan?”

“No, you haven’t met before. Come say hi.”

You followed your mother as she bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She took in the sight of Akashi standing resplendently and raised an eyebrow.

“Mama, this Akashi Seijuro-kun, my friend from school. Akashi-kun, this my mother, ______ Sanae.”

Akashi dropped into a graceful 90-degree bow. “Pleased to meet you, _____-san. My apologies for the intrusion.”

Your mother, who’d given you a sharp look when you said Akashi’s name, smiled kindly at him.

“What a well-mannered young man. No need to apologise, Akashi-kun, we’re glad to have one of ___’s friends over. Especially one we’ve heard so much about. Please, do sit down.”

Akashi sneaked a glance at you when he heard that you’d mentioned him to your parents, but you were looking out of the French windows to the back garden.

“Mama, where are the twins?”

“Upstairs, maybe? I heard something about puzzle glue.”

“Oh god no, not the glue. Rio, Rui, come downstairs! There’s someone I want you to meet!”

There was a crash and a thud from upstairs, followed by the sound of pattering feet. When Akashi looked at you, you had your eyes clenched and teeth gritted. Counting down from ten, you cooled down enough to see the 13-year-old twins rush down the stairs and skid to a stop.

You looked down at them, eyes narrowed. “That noise. Do I want to know about it?”

Your brother shook his head. Your sister wasn’t looking anywhere near you.

“I will go upstairs eventually, but we’ll leave it alone for now. I want to introduce you to someone. This is Akashi Seijuro-san, the captain of the basketball team. He’s a friend from school. Akashi-kun, these miscreants are Rio and Rui, my brother and sister.”

At the mention of his name, the twins lost their obedient expressions and jumped up.

“THE AKASHI-SAN? From the Kiseki no Sedai? The famous, badass one?”

“That’s me, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Akashi smiled and held out his hand to them.

That turned out to be a mistake, because they both squealed in delight and latched onto him. Only years of dealing with the likes of Aomine, Murasakibara and Nebuya kept Akashi stable.

Rio: “Is it true you can predict what players are going to do before they know it? That’s so cool!”

Rui: “Nii-san, nii-san, did you really play with Kise nii-san and Kuroko nii-san? What was it like?”

You: “Alright, Akashi-kun is not here for an interrogation. You can bombard him later. For now, either finish that puzzle or put it away.”

They pouted a bit, but went off to do as they were told. You watched them go suspiciously.

“I think your presence had a calming effect, Akashi nii-san. I’ve never seen them so cooperative. They must really want to impress you.”

He chuckled. The twins had been warm and happy, and he didn’t have siblings. Their attention, while slightly overwhelming, had felt nice.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been introduced as the badass one before. That was certainly an interesting experience.”

You smirked a bit. “Don’t worry, they worship all of the Kiseki players equally, though it varies each month. I think it’s Kise-san and you right now. The forecast for next month is tending towards Midorima-san.”

“I’m surprised they knew about Kuroko though, not many people do.”

“They follow the games very closely, and as for what they do and do not know…well, it terrifies me sometimes.” This was said with a fond shake of the head.

You placed a cup of jasmine tea in front of Akashi, and sat down next to him on the sofa. He murmured his thanks and began sipping it. You sighed at the elegance of even that action. Could he not get something right? He looked at you inquiringly.

“So what are you really here for, Seijuro? It can’t be to chit-chat and sip tea, as fun as that is.”

He set the cup down on the table and turned to face you fully. “I’m here for our date.”

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. “What date?”

“You might remember that we made an agreement on the day of our kendo match. To meet on Sunday. I’m here to collect on that promise.”

You wondered where he got the audacity from. Was it genetic?

“First of all, there was no agreement, just an autocratic announcement from you that had your fanclub after me for days. Secondly, why are you picking this up now, after three weeks? Bit late, isn’t it? And finally, why on earth are we going on a date when we both know you have no romantic interest in me?”

Akashi decided to sort through this flood of words in order. He took hold of your hand. You drew back in surprise, but didn’t push him away. This bolstered his confidence a bit.

“To answer the first question, I am absolute. The reason for the second is that I’ve been busy the last couple of weeks and there was a realization I came to recently. As for the last…”

He lifted your hand to brush his lips across your fingers. You froze in place, pink flooding your cheeks.

“…who says I’m not interested?”

Your head was a complete jumble of thoughts, but one stood out like a neon sign among traffic lights:

Akashi Seijuro…likes me? Like that?

You snapped out of your reverie to see him looking at you like he’s read every thought in your mind. He smiled; it was both pleasant and triumphant at once.

Yep, he definitely knew what I was thinking.

“Y-you can’t just give me a reason like ‘I’m absolute’ and expect me to just go along with it. Besides, I was supposed to help Mama out with chores today. I can’t just drop everything and leave.”

From the kitchen came a cheerful shout: “Rio and Rui can help me out for today. Just go with that handsome young man already!”

You buried your face in your hands. Akashi had to stifle a laugh at the entire predicament.

You looked up, expression caught between hope and apprehension. “Fine, I’ll go with you. But I have a condition.”

He was curious now. Were you going to impose a restriction? He’d manage, but hopefully you could at least hold hands or something…

“What is it? I’ll try to do it, whatever it is.”

“I’ll tell you after I’m dressed. Give me ten minutes.” You ran up halfway up the stairs and stopped. “Akashi-kun, should I dress for something in particular?”

I’m Akashi-kun now? She must quite angry then.

“No, just casual wear will do.”

“There better not be any more surprises, I’m warning you.” You didn’t stop to hear if he had anything to say, which was probably for the best.

Fifteen minutes later, you came down in an outfit to weather whatever Akashi had planned. It was a breezy sundress with knee length tights and strappy sandals. You would have liked to do something better with your hair than the ponytail it was in, but that was the price Akashi had to pay for sneaking up on you. You dropped your phone, keys and wallet into a small bag and turned to him.

“Shall we go?”

He nodded and bowed to your mother, who was watching the proceedings with a smile.

“Then, ____-san, thank you again for having me over. I promise to keep her safe.”

She waved it away saying, “Just make sure to bring her back by six.”

“I will.” You rolled your eyes at their conspiracy and followed Akashi to the car.

Once inside the imposing limo, you felt like some questions had to be asked.

“So, Seijuro-sama, I assume you have this date planned down to the last detail. What are we doing today?”

“I will tell you shortly, but first, the condition you mentioned?”

You shifted uncomfortably and looked at him sideways. He waited, patient as ever.

“This is not so much a condition as a request, but…is it true you have a horse? A white horse?”

“Yes,” said Akashi hesitantly, not sure where this was heading. “Her name is Yukimaru.”

You bit your lip and looked at him hopefully. “Can we…can we go see her? I love animals, but haven’t really gotten to pet a horse…”

When you looked at him like that, Akashi would have signed shares over to you if you asked.

Really, why couldn’t you be more conventional and ask for jewellery or clothes? It would be less detrimental to my heart. And you don’t even want to ride the horse, just pet her? Be greedier.

When he didn’t reply immediately, you panicked a bit. “It’s alright to say no! I know it was a troublesome request and I shouldn’t have asked-“

“I’d be happy to.” He gave you a full, brilliant smile that stopped your heart. “I think she’d enjoy meeting you.”

“Really?” you asked in delight.

“Really.”

“Thank you. Genuinely. I wouldn’t mind if you kidnapped me and sold me to slavery now. I’m that happy.”

“That was a bit too easy, then. Couldn’t you make it more challenging to make you happy?”

“I’m not doing anything to your satisfaction today. If I want to be happy just because you look nice, I will.” You gave him a stubborn look.

He laughed, and it was a glorious, lilting sound. You were surprised the driver didn’t crash the car when it happened. The planets must have aligned or something. How else could you be so blessed in one day?

You turned away to look out of the window, unable to bear the beauty. If he continued like this, being charming and dangerous and attractive…It didn’t bear thinking, the idea of an unrequited love for him. There were no half-measures where Akashi Seijuro was concerned, so it wouldn’t be a crush, and if you were to fall in love with him, you were fairly certain he’d ruin you for anyone else.

If? What if? I’m halfway there. If he so much as breathes a word of interest, I’ll probably collapse at his feet and beg him to take me. So much for kendo making you strong.

Akashi, oblivious to your inner turmoil, spoke softly. “We’re going to a park.”

You turned your head towards him. “I’m sorry?”

“There’s park with landscaped gardens, close to my house. That’s where we’re going. We’re having a picnic there.”

“Oh.” You tilted your head and smiled slightly. “That sounds lovely.”

Perhaps I should just enjoy this while it lasts. Lock these memories away so I can keep them forever.

He seemed pleased. “I didn’t want to burden us with activity on our first date. Since we haven’t seen each other much, I thought we might take the time to get to know each other better. And it works out well if you want to visit Yukimaru.”

You were saved the trouble of having to respond when the car comes to a stop. The driver indicated that you had reached your destination and leaps out like before to hold the door open. You thanked him as you slid out, and walked over to the gates of the park. Akashi joined you, with a picnic basket that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. He offered you his free arm.

You take it and smile at him, luxuriating in the warmth and safety of his presence.

I was right. It doesn’t matter what happens in the end. Every second with him will make it worthwhile.

He leads you to a shaded spot under a willow tree. As with everything he does, it is perfect, providing a scenic view of the park and a serene lake, while being secluded enough for privacy. The view is made even lovelier by the fact that the park has traditional style landscaping, interspersed with pagodas, rock gardens and the occasional waterfall.

“This is amazing,” you breathed in wonder. “I never knew such a place existed, or I would have visited more often.”

“This is a privately owned park attached to the Akashi family’s manor. It is open to the public, but not many people know about it.”

You took that in thoughtfully.

That explains the general lack of people. Trust his family to own a whole park.

“That makes me a little sad and happy at the same time. This park deserves to be admired, but on the other hand it’s like a secret only I know.”

Akashi smiled at this. “I know what you mean. I ride out here with Yukimaru sometimes.”

You sat down next to him on the blanket. “Tell me more.”

“Hmm?”

“About yourself, about Yukimaru, about an average day in your life. What you do in the evenings after school. What colour you like. Anything. Like you said, I don’t know much about you, even though you seem to know me well enough to seduce me with a picnic. So tell me anything.”

Akashi stared at you for a moment. You were gazing back at him in a way that reminded him of the first day you met each other. Eyes dark, intelligent and understanding.

Are you sure you don’t know me? You seem to have understood the most important parts already.

“Very well. But I expect you to return in kind.”

You nodded in agreement and the next hour (or was it two?) was spent with the both of you trading stories back and forth. At some point, the picnic hamper was opened, and you briefly got a laugh out of him when you accused him of trying to kill you with good food.

You smiled at his amusement, looking out at the ducks lazily floating on the lake. Akashi took the opportunity to do something he’d been wanting to do ever since he saw Aikawa hovering over you and pulled your hair free from its ribbon.

You turned back in surprise, hand going up to your hair.

“Seijuro, what-“

“Ssh. Let me just enjoy this.”

He picked up a lock of hair and gently tugged at it, making you move closer. You stayed very still as he twisted the dark strands around his fingers, admiring the texture.

“Like silk. So beautiful.”

He continued, sweeping your hair off your neck to expose the skin. His fingers trailed upwards, tracing the delicate line until he reached your jaw. Your expression remained unreadable and your eyes cast down, but your hand fisted in the blanket. He ran a fingertip over your cheekbone in a butterfly-light touch.

You looked up him, eyes glittering. Slid a hand up to interlace his fingers and yours. “Sei…”

His gaze briefly dropped to your mouth and came back up. He hummed in reply, the sound low.

“Seijuro, I’ve reached my limit now.”

Akashi barely had time to process this before you jumped straight onto his lap and buried your face in his neck. On autopilot, his arms wrapped themselves around you. You shivered uncontrollably.

What in the world…

“_____, are you alright? Was it too fast? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

It certainly hadn’t seemed like it, but maybe he’d overdone it. That was an unhappy thought.

You shook your head, still clutching on to him for dear life. “It wasn’t you. It’s- there’s a…”

Your voice trailed off.

“What is it?”

You turned around in extreme caution to glance through the corner of your eye. Your hands fisted in his shirt.

“There’s spider right there, it’s huge and terrifying and- OHMYGODITSCOMINGCLOSER, WHY?”

With a muffled yelp, you hugged Akashi’s neck and pulled him closer. Clenching your eyes shut, you prayed that denial would make it disappear.

Akashi peered over your shoulder to look at this offending spider. It looked pleased with a job well done. He wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, it had interrupted a perfectly fine moment.

On the other hand…He focused on the sensation of having you pressed flush against him, your lips near his neck. You were holding on to him like you were drowning and he was oxygen. He looked back at the spider. It gave a cheery wave with one leg and scuttled off. He silently thanked it for its noble work.

You lifted your head slightly. “Is it gone?” Your voice was shaky.

“No, it’s still wandering about, though I’m not sure why you’re so scared of it.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Then please, do something about it. I’ll do anything you want in return.” You were desperate at the thought of turning around to find eight beady eyes staring back at you.

“Hmm, anything? Are you sure? Oh, it’s bigger than I thought…”

You went completely stiff and your grip on his shoulder tightened. “Yes, anything! I promise! Just please make it disappear!”

“I’ll hold you to that, then.” There was a rustle as he shifted forward and shook out the blanket.

“There, it won’t bother you anymore.” It hadn’t bothered any one for the last five minutes, but Akashi wasn’t about to tell you that. This was too much fun.

You slowly let go of him and gave the blanket a wary once-over. You slumped in relief and then came to the slow realization you were still on his lap, pretty much straddling him. From the cat-like smile on his face, he’d understood that you now regretted ever having been born.

“So,” he purred, “shall we continue?”

Since you had already ended up in this position, there was no point pretending you didn’t want to. But…

“As much as I like being draped over you like a feather boa, I have to point out that’s it getting late and I have to be home by six. We won’t get to visit Yukimaru if we stay any longer.”

Akashi, ever the gentleman, merely smiled at this evasion and got up, brushing off his jeans. He held out his hand to help you up.

“And as much as I like having you draped over me, I did promise we would see Yukimaru. Besides…”

There was a sideways glance here. “…we’ll have plenty more opportunities for that. Don’t forget, you made a promise.”

You sighed a little at this reminder.

I knew that would come back to haunt me. Knowing him, several diabolical plans are probably in store. But the alternative was the spider, and I’d pick Sei over a spider any day. Also, what does he mean more opportunities? Is this going to be a regular thing? Is he…serious?

You didn’t have time to pursue these questions with him, however, as you had reached the entrance of the park again. Akashi handed over the basket to the driver with some instructions and ushered you into the car. You briefly wished you could have continued walking to his house, but it was probably too far to. Akashi suddenly spoke up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but I didn’t get an opportunity. Was your father not at home today?”

“Papa? Oh right, you didn’t get to see him. But then you’ve probably met him already.”

He was surprised. “I have?”

“He’s the head teacher at our school. Didn’t you know? I’m sorry, I thought you would have. Not many people know. Anyway, he’s at school today, grading assignments.”

That…explains everything and nothing.

“I am a little surprised, yes. The head teacher’s specialty is mathematics, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and sometimes he bemoans the fact that his oldest daughter’s best subject is history. Though the twins seem to like it. What about your parents? Are you similar to them?”

A tense silence suddenly fell over the car. You got the impression that this topic was a minefield and wished you hadn’t asked.

Akashi took a breath before answering. “People often say I remind them of my father, so I assume we look similar. As for my mother, I wouldn’t know, she passed away when I was ten.”

Your face melted into lines of sadness. Akashi looked at you when you linked your fingers together in a comforting touch.

“I’m sorry.” You hoped he understood you hadn’t meant to hurt him, and that you wished you could have met his mother. That you wished you could have taken on some of his pain, that you had met earlier. Anything to ease his burdens.

“It’s alright.” He tightened his grip on your hand, communicating his understanding. He let go as the car slowed down. “We’re here.”

When you stepped out of the car, you wondered how it was possible to be awed so many times in one day. The Akashi manor was a sprawling complex on a hill, with gardens to rival the park. It was impressive enough by itself, but the view made it even more spectacular.

“You can see Daimonji-yama from here,” you breathed, unable to process the beauty.

“The sunsets are particularly beautiful,” agreed Akashi, who seemed to have returned to his charming self. “The stables are this way, behind the house.”

You wondered if this mansion could ever really be called a mere house, but decided to follow Akashi and not think too hard about it. Then you actually arrived at the stables and decided this was the best thing that had happened to you all day, near-kisses notwithstanding.

“Seijuro, she’s beautiful.” And she was. Yukimaru was a magnificent horse, with a snowy white coat and a glossy mane. With her proud bearing and graceful lines, she was on the verge of becoming a unicorn.

“Come, I will introduce you. Yukimaru, I’d like you to meet someone dear to me. This is ____.”

Someone dear to him? Sei, why are you trying to give me a heart attack when I’m already nervous about the horse not liking me?

“Hello, Yukimaru-san. It’s nice to meet you.” You spoke in a soft voice, not wanting to startle her.

The mare huffed and tilted her head up to look at you for a moment. Then, apparently having judged that you acceptable, she stepped closer in curiosity. You took it as a good sign and reached up to pet her muzzle. She whickered and pushed her head over your shoulder, drawing you closer.

“She likes you,” said Akashi, eyes gentle.

“I like her too.” You smiled up at her. “Is there anything in particular she likes to eat?”

“She’s fond of sugar cubes, though we can’t feed her too many. It would be bad for her health.”

“Don’t listen to the fussy person over there,” you mock-whispered to Yukimaru. “I’ll get you some another time, I promise.” She neighed in agreement.

Akashi watched you corrupt his horse with a bemused expression.

Really, when you said you wanted to pet Yukimaru, I can’t believe that’s all you really wanted. You didn’t even look curious about the house. It’s like the Akashi name doesn’t exist when you’re around. Perhaps that’s why you’re interesting.

You gave the mare one last brush and stepped back. Then you turned to Akashi, expression serious.

“Seijuro-kun.”

“Yes?”

Why has the atmosphere suddenly turned formal? Is another spider around?

“About earlier, when you said something about more opportunities…did you mean that?”

Akashi tilted his head questioningly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because if you don’t really like me and this is an experiment of some sort, then it has to stop now. I don’t mean to be rude, you’ve been really kind to me today and it was wonderful. I was really happy. But if this isn’t something serious for you, then I’d rather we stayed friends. In all honesty, I’m already worried that I’m halfway in love with you and you don’t feel the same way. It would be really hard to bear if you suddenly decided you didn’t like me anymore.”

He was shell-shocked, to put it mildly.

Was it not obvious? It is a complete mystery sometimes, the female mind. And more importantly…

“Hmm, how unexpected. Did I hear that right?” He leaned forward until you were staring right into his crimson eyes. “Did you say you loved me?”

“Err, yes?” You had been all over him since day one. How was this still in doubt?

“Good.” That was all he said before he covered your lips with his in a fierce, possessive kiss. After you got over the initial shock, you responded, sliding your hands into his hair and pressing closer. His hands briefly traced up your spine and into your hair before he pulled back, ending the kiss.

You stared at him wide-eyed, flushed and a little breathless. Something in him created a spark of triumph at the fact.

“Good,” he repeated, “because I have no intention of letting you leave me, now that you’ve said that. There is no escaping me. You will touch no one else, and smile for no one else. There is no name but mine. Understood? You’re mine.”

You knew it wasn’t a good idea, but you couldn’t help feeling a thrill at this autocratic statement. He was looking at you with enough intensity to melt your bones, and the weight of his scrutiny made you blush.

“Yes. As long as you promise to do the same, I’m yours.”

“Then do not doubt my feelings for you. Now, before this gets out of hand and your mother accuses me of ruining you, I should take you home.”

You almost begged him to take advantage of you, but it probably wasn’t good idea. You both had school the next day.

“We should probably go,” you agreed reluctantly.

“Besides,” he dipped towards your ear in a seductive whisper, “plenty of opportunities, remember?”

“I’m going to regret that free pass I gave you, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, so long as it doesn’t involve spiders.”

Part 1 here.

Part 2 here.

Part 3 here.

Part 3.5 here.

#kuroko no basket #akashi seijuro #rakuzan #akashi x reader #fanfic #fluff so much fluff #plot what plot #where is this going #first date #akashi is a troll #i dont even know #spiders everywhere

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foursprouthealth-blog · 7 years ago

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A Wedding Photographer Explains How to Get the Best Wedding Photos

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/health/a-wedding-photographer-explains-how-to-get-the-best-wedding-photos/

A Wedding Photographer Explains How to Get the Best Wedding Photos

Everyone wants the perfect wedding photos. You spend ages (and buckets of money) on the venue, the dress, the suit, the party… so it makes sense that you’d want your event perfectly documented for posterity. I’ve been a professional wedding photographer for seven years, so at this point, I pretty much know exactly what works and what doesn’t—here’s the best advice I can offer for getting the best photos you can on your wedding day.

1. Figure out what you like.

What are wedding photos supposed to look like? There really is no right answer. Every couple has their own aesthetic, and that’s why there are as many photography shooting styles as there are photographers.

Do you want to look like you came straight out of a movie, with a dramatic sky and super-romantic poses? In that case, you will want to look for a photographer who showcases wide-angle shots with highly textured skies, for instance. You can search specific keywords on Google images, such as “Hollywood kiss on 5th Avenue,” or “bride leaning on limo in [your area]” to find a photographer who uses strong directing during his portrait session.

Would you rather keep your photography low-key to capture all the raw emotions in your images? In that case, you can look up “photojournalistic wedding photographer” in your image search. Also try “bride and groom laughing during ceremony,” or “tearful wedding toasts” to find a photographer who captures great candid images.

Blogs are also a great way to narrow down your photography style. Check the “Real Wedding” section on websites that cater to different kinds of clients—The Knot is great for more traditional weddings, Offbeat Bride for anything off the beaten path, or Junebug for trendy couples. Figure out what you like first and pick a photographer who is on the same page as you.

EDITOR’S PICK

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After you have narrowed down your search to a few photographers you like, your first step should be to look for any information regarding their pricing. Usually, photographers have an investment section on their website; if not, look at their FAQ or information page, where they could be giving away some clues about the average amount spent by couples on their photography packages. An email to get specific information doesn’t hurt either and only takes a few minutes.

2. Be vocal about your wishes and needs.

Paw through your prospective photographer’s website, their Instagram, and their pro Facebook feed—you want to try to see as many of their images as you can. Since most photographers deliver pictures online via gallery websites such as PixieSet or Pass Gallery, don’t hesitate to ask them for some full wedding galleries—they can help you get a good sense of what your wedding pictures will look like too.

For instance, if you’re not sure whether you should get pictures while you’re getting ready or when everybody is drunk dancing in the late hours of your reception, ask to see a full wedding where your prospective photographer did not cover those portions of the day, and one where they did. This will be a very concrete way to visualize the two options and pick the right one from there.

It is always better to keep an open dialogue. If there are any specific moments or people you want captured, make sure to tell your photographer beforehand. We can usually think fast on our feet, but I remember almost missing a church exit when the couple started sprinting back up the aisle (and they were fast runners). So if any unusual events are planned for your day, like a surprise toast or a special dance, let us know!

3. Get to know each other.

It might sound obvious, but photographers are people—we love getting to know you, and you need to know a bit about us too. This will help everybody bond a little and feel more comfortable once the big day arrives. So make sure to meet your prospective photographer in person, on Skype, or at the very least, on the phone before you make your decision. Once you know you share the same love for cats, indie horror movies, or Game of Thrones and can small talk easily, you will be that much more comfortable spending hours with them on your wedding day—which will lead to better photos.

4. Engagement pictures: Hell yeah or nah?

Engagement photos can be a great way to break the ice with your photographer and get you used to being in front of the camera. They can also provide you with some pretty options for your invitations or wedding website. Some brides even use that opportunity to get their makeup trial done—this can help you see whether you’d enjoy a certain makeup look in the photos for your big day, or if you want to adjust.

Engagement pictures are hardly a requirement, and lots of couples don’t find a need for them, but if you decide to get engagement pictures, please, please don’t color-match your clothes: There is nothing worse than two people each dressed in a slightly different shade of baby blue. If they are even slightly different, and they almost certainly will be, both shades will look off, and it will look like you tried too hard.

… but leaving room for the unexpected is vital for you to keep your cool and enjoy your day fully.

Instead, go for a subtle match and pick one color palette. For example, one of you can wear dark brown pants that will echo the other’s cool camel-colored jacket. Avoid t-shirts with big letterings or people’s faces printed on them; these details can be quite distracting.

If you can, stick to one outfit so you won’t have to carry a bag around with you, which will allow for more movement and comfort. It’s often best to pick an outfit that is both casual and formal: skinny jeans with heeled boots, a cute dress with a leather jacket, a t-shirt under a blazer with dark jeans—you get the idea.

5. Plan your day around your pictures…

… but don’t make it the central interest of your wedding. Try to plan your wedding portrait session around the sun. The best time to take pictures is an hour before sunset, which is what photographers call “Golden Hour.” The low sun and warm light are great assets to play with to get some gorgeous images. So if you want to take your pictures before your ceremony, plan the ceremony around sunset. If you want to take your pictures afterward, plan the ceremony an hour or so before Golden Hour.

Of course, a professional photographer can create some awesome portraits anytime, so don’t sweat this too much, especially if you are having a church wedding and the only time available is 2 p.m. A high sun and its dramatic shadows can also be very fun to work with (especially for a city portrait session) and so is dusk.

6. When you let go of perfection, you can make room for something even better.

Your photographer totally understands that you want your wedding day to be perfect, but leaving room for the unexpected is vital for you to keep your cool and enjoy your day fully. Wedding photographers have seen it all, so at some point, you have to sit back and let us do our job. We will get the best out of you and deliver beautiful images—yes, even if it hails or if the strap on your left shoe snaps.

I remember being stuck in terrible traffic with a couple on June 27, 2015: the day after marriage rights laws were passed through the whole country. We were on our way to Washington Square Park for wedding pictures, but all the roads were closed because people were celebrating. It was also pouring rain, so walking dozens of blocks wasn’t an option. We ditched our cab on Sixth Avenue (sorry again, dude) and walked around for a short while with umbrellas. My shoes were wet until the end of the night, but the bubble umbrellas and the shiny wet streets of the city made for some wonderful shots (plus, yay, gay rights!).

Those little incidents will be great stories to tell later, so you are better off embracing them and making them part of your day.

7. Treat your photographer well.

Remember to treat your photographer with respect. As professionals, we’re badasses and can power through anything—hell, I even shot a wedding five days after major hand surgery once. But we also have feelings and get tired, and walking around for eight hours with heavy gear and huge responsibilities on our shoulders doesn’t get easier if we are not treated with kindness.

Make sure a meal is included for us with your caterer and arrange so that we can eat while you eat, so we don’t need to inhale our food before running back to your table to catch your mother’s speech. Don’t snap your fingers or shout “Hey, you!” to catch our attention so we don’t miss that cute moment of your great-uncle dancing with your youngest nephew (yes, we have all gotten the finger snap at some point).

Besides, we’re pros—chances are we took pictures of that cute moment minutes before you noticed it was happening anyway. Keep the good vibe going!

Carole Cohen is a wedding photographer from Paris, who is based in Brooklyn, where she lives with her sound engineer husband and their cat-child. When she isn’t shooting weddings, she is binge-watching crime documentaries on Netflix. And when she isn’t doing that, she is taking pictures of her travels and daily life with some really old and moody analogue cameras. You can find her work on her Instagram, Facebook, and on carolecohenphotography.com. Follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

#Health

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foursprout-blog · 7 years ago

Text

A Wedding Photographer Explains How to Get the Best Wedding Photos

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/health/a-wedding-photographer-explains-how-to-get-the-best-wedding-photos/

A Wedding Photographer Explains How to Get the Best Wedding Photos

1. Figure out what you like.

EDITOR’S PICK

displayTitle

2. Be vocal about your wishes and needs.

3. Get to know each other.

4. Engagement pictures: Hell yeah or nah?

… but leaving room for the unexpected is vital for you to keep your cool and enjoy your day fully.

5. Plan your day around your pictures…

6. When you let go of perfection, you can make room for something even better.

Those little incidents will be great stories to tell later, so you are better off embracing them and making them part of your day.

7. Treat your photographer well.

Besides, we’re pros—chances are we took pictures of that cute moment minutes before you noticed it was happening anyway. Keep the good vibe going!

#Health

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mikeyd1986 · 8 years ago

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MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 73, October 2017

On Monday night, I attended my Body Balance class with Kaz at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. Over the weekend, I’ve been dealing with a number of personal issues which have accumulated to the point of feeling emotionally shutdown. I feel very conflicted in how I want to proceed. The fact that I’ve always been a highly sensitive person who overthinks, doesn’t have a thick skin, gets easily upset and can’t handle criticism from others has lead me to this state of low mood and depression. I feel lonely and confused as to what people think about me.

So tonight is all about releasing these negative thoughts and feelings that no longer serve me and getting back to looking after myself. I feel like I’ve improved heaps especially with the Pilates section. I try to follow on and do the best I can even with my hips and core muscles burning. It just takes a lot of practice and doing what you’re capable of. Never give up.

Tonight we did the following exercises from Release 77: Tai-Chi Warmup (Overhead circles, bow and arrow), Sun Salutations (Forward fold, downward facing dog, plank, crocodile, baby cobra, low lunge, open twist), Standing Strength (Chair pose, tree pose, Warrior 3), Pilates (Table top, Bridge pose with pulses and bicycle, Criss-cross crunches, Side plank elbow to knee), Hamstring Stretches (Wide-legged forward fold, Staff pose) and Relaxation (Japanese Garden guided meditation). http://w3.lesmills.com/israel/en/cl...

On Tuesday afternoon, I spent some time with my Mum. After picking up my anti-depressants from the GP, Mum and I went to Cranbourne Park Shopping Centre to do some shopping. I could feel myself hitting rock bottom emotionally as things began to spill out of me. I was that depressed and low that I felt physically numb and empty just sitting at the table at Theobroma Chocolate Lounge Cranbourne. You can only keep that fake “everything’s fine” facade on for so long. I’m 31 years old and I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.

So many things have been affecting me in a negative way like my lack of friends/social life, the relationship with my PT, not having the confidence or self-esteem to stand up for myself, being unable to find my dream career or work out my direction in life. I think that I’ve become way too comfortable living at home with my parents that the prospect of moving out seems overwhelming and unbearable.

On Tuesday night, I attended my Body Combat class with Cinamon Guerin at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. It was pretty obvious during tonight’s class that I was struggling to keep up more than usual and I also had to take slightly longer rest breaks from tracks. I honestly wasn’t surprised considering how mentally and emotionally overloaded I’ve been over the last few days so I really need to cut myself some slack. The fact that I was still participating, still working hard, still doing the best I can and still walking out dripping in sweat should be something to celebrate and be proud of.

I had a great chat with Cinamon after the class and really opened up to her about how I’ve been feeling. It really needed to unload everything that’s been weighing me down lately. I’m so glad that Cinamon has a sympathetic and non-judgemental ear and can understand what I’m going through. Some people don’t get mental illness no matter how hard you try to explain it to them and that’s something I just have to accept. https://www.lesmills.com/workouts/f...

On Wednesday, I had my Strength Training session with Luke Davey at Breakaway Fitness in Berwick. Today was a tremendously difficult day for me after weighing up everyone’s opinions and advice on whether I should stay or should I go? Joel Perryman provided a welcome distraction by doing a brief interview with me about why I started training for UFT PLAYgrounds. I was also reading a chapter on “The Power of Self-Acceptance” from Dr. Russ Harris’ book The Confidence Gap. Kind of appropriate for me right now.

I don’t think I was fully prepared for the difficult conversation that was about to unfold between Luke and myself. It was time to take off the “everything’s fine” mask and get real about what’s been on my mind. I was physically shaking and feeling nauseous just listening to what Luke had to say to me. It was tough hearing those harsh truths it because I can’t seem to handle criticism of any sort. I do take a lot of things to heart, misinterpret things people say to me and get myself upset unnecessarily. I’ve just always been a highly sensitive person and I have to accept that.

Whilst part of me wanted to storm out of there and never return, I decided to do the mature thing, sit with the negative emotions, process what Luke said to me and try to learn and grow from this experience. I’m tired of running away from my problems. At times like these, I think that it’s really important to remember all the positive qualities that Luke possesses (He only wants the best for me. He wants me to improve in all aspects of my physical and mental health. He is friendly, encouraging and motivating). I’m holding onto hope that things will get better.

WARM-UP...I started the session by doing several yoga pose holds including camel pose, lizard pose and cobra pose. This was mentally tough for me as I was still feel like shit about what happened over the last few days. But continuing to beat myself up and calling myself a terrible person is not a productive way of dealing with this. I made mistakes. I took things Luke said to me the wrong way. Does that make me a terrible person? No, I don’t think so.

DEVELOPMENT...Somehow I managed to redeem myself here and explode out of that depressed, miserable mindset that I put myself in. I put the cards on the table and continued to open up to Luke which really helped me feel better. Today I did 5 rounds of 8 reps front squats at 50kg. Instantly my mind protested “Oh shit! Not front squats again. Remember what happened last time?” But I told my brain to shush and pushed myself through it.

I was pleasantly surprised at how well I was doing those front squats today. Despite my left wrist hurting, I still managed to get my technique right: t-rex grip on the bar, elbows and chest lifted, bar sitting on the shoulders. My squat depth was generally pretty good though I did struggle at times and noticed my heels lifted up a bit. But overall I walked away feeling like I did a really good job today. I turned negatives into positives which is exactly what I was hoping for. Things can only go up from here as I continue to get stronger and better.

On Thursday night, I went and saw Blade Runner 2049 at Village Cinemas Fountain Gate. You’d think I’d be used to going to the movies by myself at my age (All by myself, don’t wanna be all by myself anymore...) but evidently I’m not. I did make a few attempts to round up a few friends to come along but they all pretty much failed. It’s always been a huge struggle for me. It’s both frustrating and depressing but the reality is that I can’t control people’s lives or how busy they are or whether they’ll come or not. All I can do is ask.

Still I decided to not dwell on it too much and just focus on enjoying the movie. I’ve been waiting 15 years for this sequel to come out so I’m not going to wait for someone to go with, I’m really not. I have to remind myself that there’s nothing wrong with doing activities by myself at all. It’s just an acceptance thing really. I brought my copy of Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? which is very appropriate considering that’s the source material for Blade Runner. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1856101...

On Friday morning, I had my second Strength Training session with Luke Davey at Breakaway Fitness in Berwick. I felt like I was in a better place today mentally and emotionally since I sorted things out with Luke on Wednesday. I was reading “Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff...and It’s All Small Stuff” by Richard Carlson to help facilitate a positive mindset and give myself some gentle reminds before I started my session.

This part in particularly spoke volumes for me...”On the contrary, when you’re in a bad mood, life looks unbearably serious and difficult. You have very little perspective. You take things personally and often misinterpret those around you, as you impute malignant motives into their actions.” (p. 81). Yeah I took things the wrong way with Luke last week and realise now that his critique is not personal, but used to improve my technique, performance and abilities. He’s only trying to help me, not put me down or treat me like shit.

WARM-UP...This morning I started my doing 5 minutes on the balance board and then three rounds of the following: 8 leg curls with the resistance band, 8 single arm kettle bell lifts and 8 “hey boys”. I was struggling a little getting my feet into the resistance band and almost getting myself tangled up in it but I decided to be patient and kind with myself instead of beating myself up like I usually do. I’m only human and overall, I did pretty well with these movements.

DEVELOPMENT...Today I did 5 rounds of 8 reps deadlifts at 77kg. As much as I kept trying to bury my frustration, it was continuing to pop up today as it took me many attempts to get my technique, form, movement and pace right. Plus the pain in my lower back and hips was annoying the hell out of me. There was the possibility of me breaking down over this but I told myself that “Take your time Michael. You can do this. I refuse to be defeated. I will not give up.” I took in all the advice and constructive criticism Luke was giving me and eventually I was getting it.

My biggest issue is keeping my shoulders pulled back and not hunching over the bar too much as well as touching the ground softly. But it’s certainly getting there. I may have been really breathless and fatigued by the end of my 5 sets but at least I got it done and gradually felt myself improve once I let go of that internal frustration. Like Luke said to me today, I just need to “relax” more. Easier said than done! Another big positive was my ability to get the plates on and off the bar. It’s getting better and I’m no longer being harsh with myself about how long it’s taking me. Progress is progress no matter how small.

WORKOUT...Today’s workout consisted of doing 3 rounds of the following: 200m row, 20 butterfly situps, 20 Russian twists and 10 hollow rocks. Even during my first round, I knew that the Russian twists were going to be my greatest challenge. I struggling to keep my balance, legs lifted and deal with the pain in my hips and lower back. But giving up never crossed my mind.

Every rep I got through with an achievement for me. That was my approach. Just get it done and I did. Luke recognised that my attitude towards this workout was much more positive compared to last week’s push-ups and I walked away feeling proud of that performance. Sure it was really difficult at times but I didn’t let it defeat me. That’s strength, resilience and determination right there.

On Friday afternoon, Mum and I visited the Dandenong Market. We bought some more flowers (yellow and dyed chrysanthemums), which are very cheap and better quality than the ones in the supermarket. We also bought some Christmas cards and fragrant soaps before having a bite to eat at the Cafe Marketto. The food here is always really good and decently priced. I ordered the Aussie Breakfast which consists of scrambled eggs on toast, mushrooms, spinach leaves and a rasher of bacon.

“Why am I like this? Trying to get my head stronger. My friends fucking hate me. My heart has grown cold and so lately. Everything I touch turns to stone and fades. And I feel a weight has lifted. And I feel the waves crash over me. Don’t lack or feel deflated. I found comfort in being free. Move forward keep your head up. You will find your home. Just don't give into pain. Move forward there. And you will find your home. You'll find your home. You'll find your home.” Reside - Home (2017)

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