#realizing this got me feeling quite perturbed lol

[elvesofnoldor]

Local vampire (Lestat) thought he snatched the young hot rich single in the area, got trapped in an abusive relationship instead. More at 7 as the story develops

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

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[seokjinsonlyone]

fall into your blu

pairing: seokjin x female reader

summary: “You don’t have to look like Beyoncé for me to be attracted to you.”

genre: friends to lovers; fluff; slow burn? kinda

warnings: there’s like a brief joking mention of booty calls; oc is like securely insecure; not much else really lol

rating: pg

wc: 7.1k

“I’m sorry I can’t... accept... this?” She winced, closing the door behind him. Felt kind of bad for not letting him get more than five feet into her place before shooting him down. She just didn’t want to have this conversation outside her building. Felt worse for referring to his confession as if it were a dirty gym sock.

His face fell. “Why not?” She doesn’t know what he thought would happen in this situation honestly. They’ve been friends for a good few years. Jin’s seen what she’s like when these kinds of things happen. 

“Because I’m not pretty,” she stated plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, to her, it was. 

“You are,” he refuted.

“I’m not.” She wasn’t. She consumed enough media and spent enough time around actual pretty people in her lifetime to note the difference.

“You are to me.”

And well, okay, she wasn’t going to argue with him. Wasn’t any point in that. “But, like, I’m not, and I mean that’s fine for me. Like I accepted it a while ago, but it’s not fine for you.” 

And it was fine. Not being pretty wasn’t the end of. It didn’t make her any less valuable as a person. In fact, it helped her develop a top tier personality. Also, less people bothered her and she didn’t have to worry about anyone having high expectations for her simply because of her appearance. Sure, she cried over her lack of physical beauty every few months, but who didn’t? Such was life as a twenty something.

 “Are you saying this because you don’t like me? You can just tell me if you don’t.” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her, trying to read between the lines of her statement. There wasn’t anything underlying it, though.

“I mean... honestly I can’t say that I’ve put too much thought into us, like, together. But that’s, mainly because you’re out of my league.” Sure when they first met sometimes he’d smile at her and her heart would drop or her stomach would erupt with butterflies when he texted her, but she never let it get much further than that. Nipped it right in the bud. There was no point in a two pining over a ten. Okay, she didn’t see herself quite as a two. On her best days, she was a solid five maybe a five and a half with confidence but still. So, she settled into the role of friend easily and she liked it there. There was no ambiguity, she didn’t have to torture herself trying to analyze every little thing he did and said to her because there was no possibility of more. Until now, she guessed.

“I’m literally not?” He was. 

“You are though.” Jin opened his mouth but she shook her head explaining further. “Objectively speaking, you’re very handsome and you’re a good dude on top of that. We’re friends right?”

He nodded hesitantly.

“Okay and friends should push each other to do better. which is why I can’t accept... your feelings?” She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that he could possibly want to be anything other than friends. She couldn’t believe they were actually friends. The only time she was friends with straight males were when they were friends with her pretty friends and thus were forced into spending time with her and realized she was actually cool aside from, like, not being pretty. “You can get someone who’s hot and a good person.”

“What if I don’t want someone who’s hot and a good person?”

“Then you’re stupid,” she snorted. “I want someone who’s hot and a good person.”

“You literally just said I was both of those things.”

“Yeah, but that’s unrealistic. What would we look like walking next to each other holding hands?”

“A couple.”

She curled her lips at him. “Yeah, a couple of clowns.”

His lips dropped into a small pout clearly unamused with her line of reasoning, which again was very confusing seeing as she was spitting facts. The logic was impenetrable. “I’m being serious,” he whined, “ It took a lot to work up the courage to say something, and you’re kind of breaking my heart.”

And, well she didn’t want that. Like, she didn’t do feelings. Most days she’d rather die than emote, but she ain’t want to break his heart. She sighed, sitting on the couch and running her hands down her face, decidedly tucking her humor-coated defense mechanism away and tried to level with him. “I just don’t understand where all this is coming from?” 

Which wasn’t the entire truth. She noticed he was acting a bit different toward her, a little more soft (lending her his jacket and tucking her underneath his arm when she was cold), a tad more vulnerable (sometimes when she asked the classic ‘how are you?’ he actually told her instead of responding ‘i’m fine’), a bit more thoughtful (when she was over his place the other day and was feeling a bit peckish he had some of her favorite snacks, even the ones he didn’t particularly care for. She looked at him like he had grown a second head, but he shrugged it off with a ‘you like it, don’t you?’). So, she can’t say this is all completely coming from left field, but she genuinely didn’t expect a confession. Didn’t expect him to grab her hand before she could go inside after dropping her off from their day out and tell her “I like you. I like you so much.”

Absently, she wonders if their outing had been some sort of ‘not date’ date. Now that she was thinking about it, they’d been spending a lot of time together just the two of them lately. The first few times when he invited her out she’d come expecting at least a few of their other friends to be with him, but didn’t really think much of their absence. She enjoyed his company and didn’t want him to think otherwise. 

She also wonders if she had been subconsciously leading him on. She never actually rejected any of his advances, if that’s what they actually were. When he wrapped his arm around her, she leaned into his touch. It was, it was odd, but not unwelcome because she was cold. When he confided in her, she listened and tried her best to be comforting and boost him up. As a friend, she felt that was her obligation. When he bought her snacks or paid for her meals, she didn’t put up too much of a fight because well a) free food and b) she treated more than a few times.

“You don’t have to look like Beyoncé for me to be attracted to you.”

She stared at him blankly. He had a point there. Even though she wasn’t anything to write home about and despite her earlier declaration that she wanted someone who was hot, she definitely had crushes on a few people who were worse for wear to say the least. She also knew that if he was here telling her about anyone else, Beyoncé or not, she’d be happy telling him to go for it. But, it wasn’t anyone else. It was her. And, her brain was quite literally short circuiting at the thought of him… and her… them… together. 

Her silence was perturbing him. She could tell by the way he forced a smile onto his face and stood up. “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s, it’s fine. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

But, she wasn’t worried about that. She knew they’d be okay. They had the same personality type. They were very similar in many ways. She knew that if she really wasn’t for it, they’d still be friends. She would give him a little space, and if they happened to be brought together through their mutual friends she’d ignore whatever crush he’d allowed himself to develop and pretend everything was fine. Jin would deal with his feelings privately and put on a smile in front of her. It might be a bit awkward for a while, but they’d be okay. She knew that. It’s why she reached out her hand, interlocking their fingers, to stop him before he walked away. 

“Hey, don’t– don’t go. I mean, you can if you want to, but like–“ What was she trying to say? If you looked into her brain it’d probably resemble that one episode of spongebob when all the files got thrown out trying to figure out fine dining and everything was up in flames. The little hers running around her mind didn’t know what to do. She took a deep breath. “Like I said before, I haven’t really thought about us, but I’m not… opposed to it.”

His shoulders slouched and he released a breath looking back down at her, squeezing her palm. “Okay, okay, that’s good. A chance is all I’m asking for.” He shot her a small smile, then flicked her forehead.  “I’ll still go, though. Let you get a head start on thinking. I know it takes you a while.”

Her jaw dropped feeling utterly scandalised. “I changed my mind. I don’t even wanna be friends anymore.”

“Pffftttt. You wouldn’t be able to live without me.”

She scoffed in return. “Yeah right. In your dreams.”

“Yes, you are.” He dropped a wink and spun out the door.

She stared blankly in his wake. Did he just admit to dreaming about her? 

She sank down further in the bathtub, face being the only thing left unsubmerged. Well, her face and like the entirety of her legs. They were leant against the wall of the shower. She wasn’t tall by any means, but her tub definitely was not meant for the soaking she liked to do. 

Despite being young, she felt like she inhabited the body of someone twice her age and could honestly lay semi conscious in hot water (nearing cool by the time she got out) until you couldn’t distinguish her from a dried date. She also just liked being in the bathroom because it was the only place she was truly alone and disconnected. Well, her phone was always an arms length away because not having her phone nearby gave her anxiety and not every time she entered a bathroom did she want to be left to her thoughts. Too much time in her mind was detrimental to her mental well-being. 

However, she had a lot to dissect tonight. She thought taking a bath would calm her down and while it did help channel her thoughts a bit, it did nothing to stop the fluttering in her heart. It was nice to know that she was liked. That someone saw something in her she didn’t see in herself. It also helped that said person was one of the most objectively handsome people she’s ever seen. But, that’s what worried her the most. It was fine that he liked her. It would be fine if that was all it was. If she could live in this purgatory of being liked, of having his attention no strings attached she would. She held the upper hand. He essentially handed his heart over to her while hers was still firmly beating in her own chest. But, what would happen if she started to reciprocate his feelings? If she gave him her heart in return?

Because the thing is, she knows it would be easy to give into him. It was easy being his friend. They just clicked in all the right places. It’s not like they were super close. Like, they’d definitely grown closer over the last few months, enthralling each other in late night text conversations and sending so many voice messages one could argue that they’d might as well been on a phone call (that consumed a very different level of social energy they both rarely could expel tho), but again it wasn’t the fear of losing him that made her hesitate. It was the fear of losing herself. If she gave herself over to him fully and somewhere along the line he decided he didn’t want her, it’d devastate her. She could almost see the heartbreak, the loss of self esteem, the ongoing existential crises from there. It was scary. 

And it’s not like she thought Jin would intentionally hurt her because she didn’t; she trusted him. He was very honest and sincere. It was something she greatly admired about him. He was soft in all the places she was hard. Rounded in all the places she was sharp, and it made her grateful that life was kind of enough to grant him such privileges. Life hadn’t been as kind to her. When you grow up not being pretty on top of lacking social skills on top of having uncommon interests, things tend to be a bit different, more difficult. 

Still, she wondered when would she ever get this opportunity again? It’d taken this long for one to arise, who knows if another chance would ever come.  And as much as she liked to think about each and every way this situation could go wrong she owed it to Jin, to herself, to think about what could happen if things went right. Typically hope and expectations were squashed down immediately. It was the number one way to play yourself, but just this once she allowed her mind to wander to the optimism deep within.

Them as a couple seemed a bit far fetched from a bird’s eye view, but personally she could kind of see them together. She could see herself happy with him and vice versa. Could almost make out him staring at her in adoration. Maybe they could be in love. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself. But maybe. Just maybe, it might work. 

She felt strange. In a good way. Kind of like she unlocked some sort of hidden secret to life. She felt normal. And, it’s not like she was some kind of weird, misfit, loner. She was cool. She had a good group of friends. She had acquaintances. Her coworkers all liked her and they bonded over their mutual dissatisfaction with their place of employment. But, she’d never had whatever this was. Sure, she’s been the object of a few people’s affections but never ones she would ever think about looking twice at. In turn, she’s had a few crushes who didn’t look in her direction. This was different though, Jin was looking at her and he was… definitely in her peripherals.

It wasn’t as if years of repressed feelings came rushing to the surface when he told her he liked her because they genuinely weren’t like that. But, the more she toyed with the idea the more appealing it sounded. She couldn’t allow herself to dive head first though. She needed to be sure this was real. It’s why she texted him after a few days of very little interaction, only signs of life in the videos she sent him from tiktok and his phone generated reactions.

[6:42pm] y/n: you up? 👀

She tried to be as casual as possible, but she’d never been this nervous texting him before. A little afraid he’d rescind his confession.

[6:45pm] jinnie from the block: it’s not even 7 why wouldn’t i be up

[6:47pm] y/n: ion know 🤷‍♀️ i heard old people go to sleep early

[6:47pm] y/n: have dinner round bout 4 and sleep by the time sun sets

[6:48pm] jinnie from the block: omg i’m not that much older than you

[6:48pm] jinnie from the block: anyway what’s up? this a booty call??

She nearly dropped her phone on her face.

[6:48pm] y/n: JIN ADSFLJADSFLJ

[6:48pm] y/n: have some decency booty call hours are between 10pm and 3am

[6:49pm] y/n: ion make them kinds of propositions in the light of day 😤🤚

[6:49pm] y/n: no omg i just wanted to know if you wanted to grab lunch tomorrow?

[6:51pm] jinnie from the block: booty ✍️  call ✍️ between ✍️ 10 ✍️  and ✍️ 3 ✍️. Got it.

[6:52pm] jinnie from the block: you asking me out on a date??? 👁👄👁

Her brain short circuited once again. Was she asking him out on a date? She didn’t think she was. She might’ve been. She was going to tell him that she was going to give him the chance he asked for. Things would change a little after that, wouldn’t they? They’d be like seeing each other. She was probably making this a bigger deal than it needed to be. She could tell she definitely was when he texted her again after she failed to respond for five minutes.

[6:57pm] jinnie from the block: hey sorry i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable

[6:58pm] jinnie from the block: i was just joking. it doesn’t have to be a date 

[7:01pm] y/n: lol no ur fine that was fine i’m just being 🤠😃🤡

[7:02pm] y/n: i mean it’s not not a date

[7:02pm] y/n: like what really is a date 🧐

[7:03pm] y/n: according to google it’s a social or romantic appointment or engagement so i guess technically it is a date

[7:04pm] jinnie from the block: sweet ❤️ where we going

Now she was standing in front of the place they’d arranged to meet up, telling herself to calm down. No need to be feeling lightheaded at the sight of Jin. It was just her friend who liked her. Her friend that could be her boyfriend in a few weeks. It was fine. Everything was fine. She decidedly squashed the majority of those feelings down and entered the building. She was already ten minutes late, but he should’ve known by now that time was relative to her.

She circled her head around the area trying to spot him. She for sure saw his car in the lot. It didn’t take long to find him seated in a booth at the far corner of the restaurant. Was a wave a sufficient greeting? Was she supposed to hug him? A handshake would be weird, right? Why was she so unfamiliar with the protocol for this situation? So caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized she already approached the table and was hovering awkwardly next to it. 

He scrunched his face up at her. “Don’t be weird about it. Sit down.”

“I’m not being weird about it.” She was. But, like, now she didn’t know where to sit. Across from him? That left room for a lot of eye contact. Did she want that? Sitting next to him felt rather intimate though. She didn’t get to make that decision as Jin rolled his eyes and pulled her down into the spot next to him then flicked her head. She let out a small squeak at the action. “Why you keep doing that?”

“Because you keep being weird.”

“I’m cooler than you,” she scoffed. 

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she bit back before retracting her answer, giggling. “No. Well, maybe. See you act weird and then apologise for it. I never apologise for my weird behaviour.”

He raised one brow at her. “And that makes you cooler than me?”

“Uh, yah. In movies, the cool girl is always the one who’s quirky and never apologises for being so.”

“Mhm. Okay,” he said dismissively, beginning to peruse the menu. “If you could be in a movie, which one would you be in?”

“A bug’s life,” she replied immediately.

His eyes widened, looking down at her. “No hesitation? A Bug’s Life? Have you been waiting to be asked this your whole life?”

She shrugged. “No, it was just the first movie that popped into my head. I’ll stick to it, though. You got an innovative social outcast who brings together a ragtag bunch of misfits who end up starting and winning a class war and saving their people from subsequent oppression. Overthrowing the bourgeoisie? Now that’s what I’ve been waiting my whole life to do.”

He chuckled. “I can’t believe you just used the word ragtag.”

“Using the word ragtag is also something I’ve been waiting my whole life to do. There are surprisingly little opportunities to use it. You know what else there is surprisingly little of? Quicksand.”

From there they launched into conversation about any and everything. She was talking so much, so animatedly that she barely touched her food. She’d take a bite every now and then when he tapped her plate with his utensils, but he ultimately picked at her food more than she did, stealing small bites in between her musings on various conspiracy theories. It wasn’t rare for her to not eat while engaged in conversation, but it was rare for her to be engaged so deeply in conversation outside her really close girl friends. She took a mental note at the fact and added it to the ever growing list of reasons why being with him wouldn’t be so bad. 

At some point, she’d begun to turn towards him, so much so that by the time she’d gotten a to-go box for the rest of her meal that she was nearly completely facing him. He was listening to her ramble on about straws being a cash grab by the fast food industry with his elbow on the table, head propped up on his hand, a small smile gracing his face when he reached for her hair sweeping a few strands that escaped from the mass of curls she had pinned back away from her eye. She stopped talking instantly, mind going blank. She ain’t never had her hair swept back, her face gently caressed by a man.

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not,” she protested, face heating up further.

“You are.” 

She wanted to knock the amused smirk off his face. Retribution would come at some point. “I’m brown. You can’t tell if I’m blushing.”

He snorted. “It’s written all over your face and,” he pressed a palm to her cheek, “your cheeks are on fire.”

She smacked his hand away. “They’re not. I’m just naturally hot blooded.” That was a lie. They both knew it.

“You’re anemic. You are the coldest person I know. You cry when the weather drops below 70.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. It was in her moment of shame, unintentionally expressing feelings, that she remembered the whole reason they were there in the first place. She always forgot herself once she got started up on the bourgeoisie. Still, she was unsure how to approach the topic. She wrestled back and forth for a few seconds before mentally shrugging. Direct was probably best. They were both grown. “So… you like me?”

He gulped, seemingly nervous at the shift in topic. “Hey, listen, like I said don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“I mean… if you want me to forget about it I will. Otherwise, I was willing to worry about it.” 

His eyes widened at you, catching your gaze before looking downwards. “Really?”

She smacked his arm, sliding out of the booth and grabbing the bag holding her food which he took out of her hand after he slid out. “What? You think I’m mean or something?” To be fair she was a little mean, but she wasn’t cruel. “You think I would sit here and have lunch with you if I was gonna tell you to leave me alone after?”

“I don’t know! You were calling me bro this whole time. I thought you were preparing me for the friendzone!”

She rolled her eyes. “Bro, I call everyone bro.”

“That’s not true. You call children honey,” he corrected, holding the door open for her.

She pursed her lips at him. It was weird to know that Jin had been actively perceiving her. Like he just knew stuff about her. And it’s not like she didn’t know anything about him; they’d been friends for a while. But, she didn’t pay special attention to things like how he addressed children. It made her feel… something. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. It’s just…” she gesticulated wildly trying to figure out the right words to say. “I don’t know. It’s weird that you notice me. That you like me. Nobody likes me.”

“My name’s Seokjin actually,” he joked. She rolled her eyes. “Besides I’ve been noticing you for a while, there’s a lot to like,” he admitted, voice softening.

Her heart squeezed in her chest. She liked the way he made her feel. It was scary, but she liked it. She liked it so much that she threw caution to the wind and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked side by side. She could feel him burning a whole into the side of her face, but she refused to make eye contact. She was acting so out of character. She was going to have a serious chat with herself later. “Don’t be weird about it,” she mimicked.

He giggled but stopped staring at her so she guessed it was alright. “You into PDA?”

“Ummm… I don’t think so? It doesn’t seem like something I’d be very into. I mean, this is okay,” she answered, swinging their conjoined hands slightly before tacking on, “Is this– is this okay for you?” and looking up timidly. 

“This is okay for me,” he confirmed, squeezing her hand. “You’re so cute. You try to act all icy like you’re the abominable snowman, but really you’re just bigfoot.”

“I can’t believe you just called me cute and bigfoot in the same sentence.”

“Well, you’re definitely not a normal creature.”

“But, why I gotta be a cryptid?”

“What would you prefer to be?”

She mulled it over for a few moments. “Nah. You’re right bigfoot works for me. A myth and a legend is what I strive to be.”

“It’s what you already are.”

She smiled to herself as they continued walking. She didn’t know where they were going seeing as they both drove but didn’t speak up. She liked this. Liked how normal everything felt. They were like how they always were except now they held hands and flirted a little. It was nice. 

“Hey,” he said a few minutes later, pulling her from her thoughts, loosening his grip on her hand and opening the door to an ice cream shop. Hmmm. A man with a plan. Nice. “You wanna go to Jimin’s later? He invited me yesterday.”

“Is Jungkook gonna be there?” She asked absentmindedly, filling her cup with various flavours.  

“Why?”

“He’s my little brother, and I love him.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s six months older than you and Korean.”

“First of all, families can look however they want. It’s what’s on the inside the counts. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing? Ohana means family,” she countered, sitting at one of the tables. “Second, age is a social construct.”

“Alright, I can let you slide on your first point, but age is not a social construct.”

“It is, though. Think about it. What is one year? The time it takes the earth to revolve around the sun. The earth was just in a slightly different position than it was when he was born from when I was born. Think about it in terms of light years. 1 light year is about 5.9 trillion miles. The earth travels about 584 million miles around the sun. Cut that in half and you get 292 million miles. Which is like 5 hundredths of 1 light year. Scale that down and you’re literally sitting further than how much older Jungkook is than me.”

He stared blankly at her. “You say so much nonsense on a regular basis that I forget how smart you are. But, also it’s impressive how you’re able to say such nonsense in such an intelligent manner.”

“It’s part of my charm.”. 

He shook his head. “Anyway, Jungkook?”

“He owes me $10. Keeps asking me to buy him snacks or adding his stuff to mine when we go to the convenience store. If he’s there, I plan to attack.” He hummed in response. “What about Yoongi? And before you ask me why, it’s because he’s my soulmate.”

“I hate to break it to you babe, but Yoongi is my soulmate.”

“I beg to differ.”

“I don’t. I’ve known him longer.”

She scoffed. “Okay, and? In most dramas they introduce the second male lead first. You just paved the way for me homie.”

“You and Yoongi are the same person and therefore cannot be soulmates.”

She paused mid bite. “That’s fair. I guess he can be my duplicate and your soulmate. I would say he’s my twin, but he already banned me from calling him that.”

“So, you in?”

“Mmm… I guess.” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “What are we gonna do about–“ she gestured between the two of them, “Like, I mean I know this is like, brand new, fresh from the womb. But–“

“They know,” he breathed out through a laugh, ending her rambling.

“They know?” Her eyebrows shot up. They knew? Was she the only one in their group oblivious to his feelings? 

“Well, they know everything up until what happened today. You mad?” he asked, obviously worried at the possibility of upsetting her.

She wasn’t particularly nosy. Wouldn’t have pried too much even if she suspected something was up. Still she didn’t like being out the loop. But, she guessed she was the most in the loop now, so there wasn’t really anything to be upset about now. Only thing she could hope for is that whatever they were doing worked out. It’d be humiliating otherwise. “Nah. Those are your boys. I get it.” 

He was allowed to talk to them about his life even if it did involve her. Even if they were friends as well. She would eventually tell her girls. She was just a bit emotionally stunted and unnecessarily private so it took longer to open up about her life. She would tell them sometime soon. Or they would find out from one of the guys and be cornered into spilling everything. Whichever came first. That was, if this even amounted to anything.

She hoped it did.

Thirty minutes before she was supposed to get off, she sent a text to Jin letting him know she definitely would not be getting off in thirty minutes. It sucked because she hadn’t seen him in a week, and they were supposed to be going on a date tonight. There was no way, though, that she could leave her department in good conscience. She just added it to the ever growing list of frustrations that had been piling up. 

Today was the third day in a row her coworkers left the entire day’s work for her during the night. How could two people waste eight hours (sixteen total) doing absolutely nothing? She didn’t like to work herself but she did it because that was what she was being paid to do. She did it because she hated for others to be left with an overwhelming amount of tasks. Apparently, she was the only one who shared such a sentiment in her department. 

To add insult to injury she also hadn’t slept very well that night, she didn't get a chance to eat or drink today, and she missed Jin. She took a deep breath, pushing away the burning sensation building behind her eyes and kept moving.

Within five minutes of entering her home, she was in the shower eager to wash the day away. She sighed deeply as the hot water hit her shoulders, cascading down the rest of her body. It allowed her to get rid of the thoughts of work. She didn’t like to bring it home physically or mentally. What happened happened. Knowing her coworkers it would probably happen again. She truly liked them as people but sometimes their work ethic made her want to strangle them. 

Now her main concern was Jin. They’d been dating for a little over a month and a half. Or, well, seeing each other. Things still hadn’t been labelled. They went on dates though. Was that considered dating? She made a mental note to google dating. Either way, she missed him. A lot. More than she thought she would. And, it’s not like they saw each other every single day, but seven consecutive days was a lot. She’s kind of grateful for it though. It made her realize how much she liked him. Up until now, she was still approaching everything surrounding him with a healthy level of skepticism. Feeling him out. Feeling herself out. Trying to see if continuing down this road was really worth it. If it was something she truly wanted not because she liked to be liked but because she liked him. 

And, she did. So much. Before he was just her very chaotic friend. Her go-to for group shenanigans. But when she really paid attention to him, there was just so much to like. She liked how he texted her good morning and good night every day. First, she thought it was corny. Asked him why he was texting her like her grandma only for her heart to end up in a puddle when he told her he had to let her know he was thinking of her when he first woke up and just before he went to sleep. She liked how respectful he was of her boundaries (even when she didn’t necessarily want him to be). “I know I have a bit of a head start, so I’m sorry if that was too much. I don’t want to rush you,” he’d apologized a few weeks ago after kissing her cheek while dropping her home. It caught her a bit off guard, yeah, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Like at all. And yeah she did still like how chaotic he was. Liked how he helped her beat up Jungkook that one night (she didn’t really want any money back. She never minded buying him snacks here and there. Just didn’t want him to know that and get too comfortable. Had to keep the upper hand for the big sister agenda). He was still her best friend and she liked that. 

She planned on telling him as much tonight, which was why this turn of events was so upsetting. Deep down she knew that a few more days wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t a life or death situation. It would be fine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that. But, as it stood none of her basic needs were being met and her day was awful and she just couldn’t bring the little optimism that lived deep, deep, deep down within her to the surface. So, it was with a heavy heart that she got dressed following her shower and began her daily stare down with the contents of her refrigerator.

She has no idea why she didn’t stop and get food before she came home. She knew she ain’t have anything. Can’t imagine why she thought ‘the food at the crib’ (rotting spinach, a tangerine, and cranberry-grape juice) was gonna sustain her. A whine bubbled up in her throat and the burning sensation behind her eyes returned with a vengeance. She was seconds away from unloading the emotional baggage the week packed onto her, when a knock sounded at the door.

Quickly, she swallowed back all her feelings and prayed whoever decided to show up would be quick lest they be subject to her breakdown. Yet, it was precisely the person at the door who launched her breakdown into full speed.

Jin. With takeout.

She was so overcome with emotion at the sight of him that she immediately burst into tears. She made it a point not to cry too often because it was an ordeal for her. Her eyes got all red and puffy and she got a headache then she needed to sleep. An ordeal. Probably because when she cried she tended to cry for her past, present, and future; but that was a story for a therapy session she’d probably never go to. 

He quickly sat the food down on her coffee table and wrapped her in his arms as she gave way to tears. She cried for all the bad things she’d been going through. She cried for the week they spent apart. She cried for the awful day she had. She cried because her next shift would probably be just as bad. Unexpectedly, though, she also cried tears of relief. She was so relieved that Jin was there. She’s missed him so much. She was relieved he brought food because she was starving. She was relieved he cared about her at all. “What are you doing here?” she hiccuped out, attempting to even out her breathing and draw this crying spell to a close.

“I still wanted to hang out tonight,” he explained gently, “Also my spidey senses told me you hadn’t ate yet.”

She choked out a laugh, nuzzling her face further into his chest. Not quite ready to leave the cocoon she’d trapped herself in. She needed a moment to gather herself and her thoughts together because the urge to spill her guts was raging. She knew the second she looked into his eyes she’d be giving her heart to him. Also, she really enjoyed the way his hands rubbed circles on her back. 

They stayed huddled for a couple more minutes before she pulled back, looking up at him. He was so beautiful up close it was unreal. He brought his hands up from her waist, cupping her cheeks, wiping away a few stray tears with his thumb. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I look like a teletubby right now.”

“You actually look like Mrs. Puff.” 

She stuttered out another laugh, smacking his chest noting the wet patch she left. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“It’ll dry.” He dropped his hands back down, this time settling upon her hips. “Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head. Didn’t feel like rehashing her day. Would rather live in this moment. “Just a very long day and I– I, um–“ she gulped, forcing the words out “–I missed you.” She was on a roll now. Might as well get it all out there. “A lot. And… I really like you Seokjin. I’m sorry it took so long to say it. But, um, yeah I do. And, I want to be with you.”

Her eyes remained firmly fixed on his chest, heat washing over her form. Why did she feel so embarrassed right now? It’s not like he was going to reject her. Still, she refused to meet his gaze. That was until he lifted her chin with his finger. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. “Don’t be weird about it,” he smiled, cupping her face with one hand and bringing the hand at her hip to her neck, pressing their lips together.

She knew it was coming. He literally announced it before he started kissing her, but it didn’t stop her entire body from tensing up the second as she felt the gentle pressure of his lips against hers. In fact, she felt herself astral projecting, soul hovering just outside of her body to confirm it was inhabiting the right person. Then, all at once she came back to herself and melted into his touch slowly bringing her arms to wrap around his waist. Why hadn’t they been doing this the whole time? When will she be able to do it again?

He gently sucked on her bottom lip for a few seconds before pulling away slightly leaving a series of pecks in his wake. He rested his forehead against hers as they broke apart. Her heart was beating so fast she felt like she was gonna throw up. Or cry. Or both. This probably wasn’t the best position for him. He had a good few inches on her. Still, she didn’t want to pop the bubble they’d created. That was until her stomach loudly rumbled doing exactly that. 

Her mind then became solely preoccupied with obtaining some form of sustenance. “What kind of food did you bring?” she asked, dropping to her knees in front of the coffee table where the abandoned takeout was sitting and rifling through the bags herself. “Chinese. Nice.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “That’s my girl.”

“So… you’re my boyfriend now,” she stated leaning back against the couch once her food tunnel vision widened out. Which was, like, kind of a big deal. She was never one to define relationships even if it was pretty obvious. Didn’t like to take the chance of being rejected. But, he’d put himself out there enough. She could do this one thing and she was like 87.2% sure they were on the same page. 

“It seems so.”

He wrapped an arm around her tugging her closer before pressing a kiss against her cheek. Warmth flooded through her system and her heart began to swell followed by a wave of mortification as she thought about what this really meant. “Bro, this is so embarrassing.”

“Hey!” he whined. The arm used to cuddle her was now being used to keep her in a headlock. 

“F in the chat for our fallen soldier.” She fake sniffled. “What am I supposed to tell Yoongi? We made a pact. We were supposed to die alone together.”

“Suddenly, I’m regretting this entire thing.”

“We have to put up an iron wall in front of the boys. I have a reputation to protect. They can’t know I feel.”

“We’ve been dating for almost 2 months already.” So, it was dating.

“Yeah, but they were being oddly nice about it,” she pouted. They were. They knew her. Knew this was way  out of her comfort zone and didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. And, they definitely didn’t want to do or say anything to mess this up for Jin. But, now that they were official she’s sure pandora’s box was about to be opened. Everything they’d been holding back was going to be unleashed. “It’s all over now. The teasing will be relentless.”

“I’m your boyfriend now. You’re my girlfriend. I’ll protect you,” he declared proudly.

She snorted. “Corny.” She loved it.

[05aaphrodite]

I can't let you escape, not even to your own world

Pairings:Yandere! Venti x reader

Warnings:4th wall breaking,Slight crack fic,Reader death

(Plz don't let my friends see this lmao)

______________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐_______________

I chug all of my soda then slam it on the table "Aight, let's go farm for Venti's talent mats" I grabbed my controller then push the left joystick forward, after all of these grinding... I finally manage to get him on his rerun, I was skeptical that he would come home but surprisingly, I did a single pull then I got him, I'm grateful that I got my dream team, Xiao,Diluc,Venti,Bennett I will be saving for a Klee rerun.

My phone beeped a notification, I peek at it and it's my friend gc, I put down my controller then grab my phone

(A/n: Btw, the gc is based of my friend gc lol)

❀Genshin Gang❀

Diluc's hairtie

Y'ALL GUESS WHAT??

Albedo simp

OMGGGGGG CONGRATS BHIEEE

E_supremacy

CONGRATSSSSS

Xiao come home plz

I TOLD YA, YOU WILL GET HIM

Ventea

Hope all😭😭

VENTI CAME HOME

BROOOO CONGRATS OMG

ZHONGLI COME HOME

JK JK CONGRATS TOO

Diluc's hairtie

I was losing hope until I wished one more time😭

ZHONGLI COME HOME

CONGRATSSSS AGAIN, AND TO Y/N, BOTH OF YOU GOT VENTI

VENTI CAME HOME

THANKS PALL

E_supremacy 

Now my Zhongli is happy :D

Diluc's hairtie

YESSES

A smile plastered on my face, I'm so happy for them! My attention was stolen when Venti decides to say his idle line "Come on Traveler, let's go! The world is full of lost ballads just waiting to be rediscovered." I put my phone down then grab my controller again "Ok ok, I will pay attention to you now" I chuckled humorously "Good! Just don't make me murder your friends."

The moment he said that line, my thumb suddenly stopped pushing the joystick, did he just..... did I just heard that right? Murder... your friends? What does he mean by that? Someone never mentioned this voiceline of his, I should check the character icon. I clicked on the character icon then proceed to his voicelines, I checked every details but I can't seem to find it, maybe it's a bug? The fact that I was talking to my friends.... maybe Mihoyo intended it?

I shrugged my shoulders then continue to the domain to farm for talent materials. After countless of grinding, I started to have fun with his wind current while harassing random hilichurls for fun, I made him sat at the Barbatos statue "You finally came home..." I smiled as I touch the screen, Venti looked at the camera then smiled "That's so cute! He smiles when he looks at at camera!" I awed, I continue to fawn over him.

⌣ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ⌣⌣ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ‿ ⌣

I woke up by the sound of my ps4 opening, the bright light illuminated my body, and to my surprise, my ps4 opened by itself "What the fuck?" I stood up from the bed then went to investigate it. The creepiest thing is that Venti is the only one in my party, and he is sitting at barbatos' hands, and then I remembered the hacked accounts in genshin, this could be a sign..

I hurriedly grab my controller then check my characters, all of them were Venti! I can't find a single character other than him! What's going on!? I check my weapons but they are okay, I checked my profile and nothing changed but my icon was set to Venti, i checked my primogems and fate but nothing changed, in fear of getting hacked, I contacted Mihoyo for customer support, I can't lose Xiao, I whaled for him! I restarted my ps4 then go back to sleep, in hopes that it will be resolved next morning.

I rubbed my eyes then stretch my arms wide, I look at my ps4 then my phone, I grab my phone then text on the gc

❀Genshin Gang❀

VENTI CAME HOME

Guyssss, something weird happened yesterday 

ZHONGLI COME HOME

Why?

VENTI CAME HOME

My ps4 opened by itself and Venti was the only one in my party, I tried to change my party set back to normal but all of them were Venti

Albedo simp

Welp, sounds like a bug

But hey, freemogems :D

VENTI CAME HOME

My weapons and primogems were untouched but the weird thing is that my character icon is set to Venti, but I didn't change it

This is like a Ddlc reference lmaooo

Xiao come home plz

Aight, time to report to Mihoyo for free 600 primogems 

E_supremacy

Be careful, maybe you're getting hacked? You should change your password incase

VENTI CAME HOME

Yep bro, I will change it

I put my phone down then open my ps4, I prayed to myself that everything is back to normal. Happiness washed over me when I saw that my original party is deployed "must've been a crazy bug.." I chuckled, I change my icon back to Xiao then continue with the grinding "Ooohhh timmie's birds" I smirked, I switched to Xiao then climb the nearest cliff, I glide then plunge on the birds "Free fowls!!" I exclaimed then claim the fowls, my character suddenly switched  back to Venti, I didn't even press anything other than claim fowls "You know I'm getting impatient.." Venti said, again this was not even in his voice lines, then I notice that something is odd with my venti, he kept saying weird lines everytime my attention is drifted to somewhere else, could it be Mihoyo's doings? I hope so, I don't want a ddlc fiasco again.

After farming for his ascension materials, I quit genshin then read some fanfictions in Tumblr, I came across a Kaeya fanfic then proceed to read the contents. All of a sudden, my ps4's screen started to distort, my eyes widened at the sight of it, then a bright light surrounded me, making my head dizzy

.

.

.

. 

"Traveler, you're awake" I woke up to a familiar voice reaching my ears, I blinked my eyes slowly to realize that I'm not in my room, where am I? My jaw dropped when the person I saw in my eyes is none other Venti, this is impossible! He's not real! "Venti...?" I tilt my head in confusion, there's no way this is real.... this must be a dream! The bard showed a genuine smile before putting down his lyre "I'm happy that you pulled for me, I will go crazy if you pulled for him instead, hehe." Venti had a patronizing smile after that, my eyes widened as I sat up "Venti? There's no way that you're real!" I said, feeling my empty pockets, Venti sighed as he stood up, he had his lyre in his hand "Come on Traveler, let's go celebrate the windblume festival." the God reached out his hand, I was reluctant to respond to his offer, he seems a bit suspicious to me, considering my ps4 sucked me in Teyvat. Not to mention, he said these weird lines when I was communicating with my friends, and my controller would move on its own when I'm playing another character "What are you waiting for?" A smile was om his lips, I took his hand then stood up "Ok, let's go." Venti giggled as he led me in Mondstadt, I gaze behind to see the Vennessa tree.

No way.... all of this seemed real... the designs.... the npcs.... all of them are accurate! The only difference is that I don't see control menu "Isn't it beautiful? Traveler?" Venti turned to me, I nodded with hesitant. As my eyes scanned the whole city, Fischl and Bennett were talking to each other, Kaeya,Rosaria, and Diluc at the same table, although Diluc seems poker faced, Barbara was performing for the crowd, Jean and Lisa are eating together, Albedo,Sucrose, and Timaeus are experimenting,Amber is seen gliding, everything seemed lively more than the actual game.... "Come on Traveler!" The bard took my hand without giving me time to consent.

The rustling sounds of the leaves snap me back to reality, it still feels like a dream, did Mihoyo said something about this? The atmosphere is so lively and different "Uh oh woahhh!! Watch out!" Amber then crashed into Noelle, I giggled slightly then turn to the bard who was playing the lyre for a small crowd, as the sweet melodious tone halt to stop, the crowd clapped their hands, I smiled a little bit as I made my way towards him "Did you like it?" Venti inquired, I nodded then smiled, the bard chuckled as he took my hand then led me somewhere.

I realized we were getting far away from the festival, perturbation washed over me "Venti.... where are we going?" sweat dropped on my temples, Venti looked at me with a menacing smile "Somewhere..." 

He led me to starsnatch cliff, the breeze of the wind soothes my nostrils, I can't believe all of these are real.... Venti picked a Cecilia flower then hand it to me, I narrowed my eyes "Are you really.... real?" I gaze at his eyes 

"I'm aware that all of us are just video game characters, that's why I'm a God"

My eyes widened as he said that, he tucked the cecilia behind my ear "Y/n, will you stay here forever..?" The bard took both of my hands, his puppy eyes gleaming, I do want to visit Genshin.... but that does not mean I will abandon my world 

"Venti.... I have my friends and family there..." I said, I averted my gaze to the floor, his grip on me got tighter "Y/n, your world does not need you" his tone was a mix of devastate and anger "All you need is me, you belong here" 

My eyebrows furrowed, what does he mean by that!? "No! I can't just leave everyone! My friends care about me!"  I screamed in frustration. He then uses his anemo powers on me that sent me flying through the air "Arghh! Let me go!!" I desperately try to break free

"Don't you see that I love you? I don't like it when you control me everyday" Venti was feigning sadness on his tone 

"Because you're never real!" I retorted back, a grin was marked on his face "I ever regret pulling for you!" I yelled. The bard went closer then cup my cheeks "So? You already got me, you did this to yourself" then his hands swayed, causing me to fall of the cliff, my life flashed before me, this is it....

"May your soul rest in this game"

[apprentice-melphina]

Imagine Muriel meeting Inanna when she was just a lil pup; he saved her mother (either from a trap or smth else) and Inanna is just like !! Big pup !! Where is your pack !! So then she just kinda followed him around making sure he’s okay but Muriel’s just like !! Little pup !! Go home !! But Inanna just gives him that disinterest look she gave the eagle in book 8 and so she’s been around ever since (this helping muriel in his recovery that yes! he deserves to be loved and to be taken care of!)

so I was like half way done with this when I realized we don’t know whenMuriel met Inanna and you didn’t specify, so let’s pretend they met when he wasyoung lol &sorry this took so long, have had a bit of writer’s block :/

note: I don’t know anything about disarming bear traps, so if my explanationmakes no sense, I’m not sorry because I warned you lol

–

“So, we’ll split up. I’ll talk withthe pirates at the docks to get some fish, and you can forage for stuff in the woods. Is thatok?”

Violet eyes looked up at green ones that immediately glanced away. Thelarger boy shrugged and mumbled an acquiescence.

“Let’s meet back here by sunset. Do you want to take Faust with you?”

But Muriel had already trundled away towards the forest. Asra set Faust downon the ground and she slithered away as he ran off in the opposite direction.

It wasn’t Muriel’s first time in the forest, but it would be his first timetraveling so far inside. Before befriending Asra, he would find refuge underthe larger trees with their weathered roots wrapped around him when the teasingof the other street kids became too much. There was one tree he had beenparticularly fond of where the ground had eroded enough to create a pocket hefit in perfectly. If he thought about it, Asra’s realm gave him the samefeeling of being enveloped in something safe; but he rarely let himself dwellon those sorts of thoughts. Even now, walking into the forest, he feltsomething pulling him in the direction of that tree – nostalgia, maybe? He ignoredit, a hobby he was quite good at.

.

Muriel huddled around a fairy ring, bending down to pullsome of the mushrooms out of the ground and stuff them in his pack. He stoodagain, looking down into the bag. Blackberries, wild onion, mushrooms, cloverfor tea. All that was left was wild garlic which he had seen beforealong the riverside. He turned in the direction of the river and pausedwhen a faraway sound reached his ears.

A keening cry carried over the wind to him again. Murielclosed his eyes to the sound, trying to block out the cries as he continuedtoward the river. It’s the way of life. All good things end.

As he walked forward, the cries became louder, clearer.

Help!

The voice cut through the forest air. Hands wrapped tightaround the sling of his bag, Muriel found himself running and jumping over treeroots through the forest. The voice in his head telling him to ignore thegurgling fear in his stomach was losing out to the one calling out for help.

They were by the riverside. The trap had been hidden beneaththe foliage at a prime drinking spot. The larger wolf, almost ink black, wasfutilely gnawing at black metal crushed around its ankle. A smaller brown wolf,a pup still, pranced back and forth around its parent, howling and whining allthe while. Help! Help!

He didn’t have much time to think about why he couldunderstand the pup when the larger one realized he was there. It whipped itshead around and lowered into a crouch. Teeth barred, a warning growl rippedthrough its throat. Muriel and the pup both jumped in surprise, then the pup scurriedbehind its parent, peaking out at Muriel from behind its mother’s haunches.

Muriel paused; he didn’t have much experience with animalsother than Faust whom he only tolerated. The wolf had teeth bigger than any he had ever seen. It was almost twice his size and the way its fur stood on end,bristling out from its body, only increased Muriel’s feelings of being under powered. He could feelits growl reverberating in his bones as his own hair stood up and his bodyscreamed at him to run away.

He turned to do just that when he noticed the pup again. Its yelloweyes were wide with fright. It kept glancing to the trap still clamped around theother’s leg and then back to him. Muriel realized then that the pup wasn’t afraidof him or what he might do; it was afraid to lose its mother.

All the feelings he had been fighting down for months, for years threatened toovertake him then, but he bit his tongue to fight them back and turned again to thewolves. Somehow Muriel felt that he knew what to do, as though a familiar voicewere whispering instructions in his ear that he couldn’t quite make out, but he knew the message. He took the pack off and slowly set it on the groundwhile moving into a crouch. He kept his hands up in front of him and his eyes low,face slack. The wolf’s growling morphed into a disgruntled rumble. His wholebody tensed, ready to roll over onto his back and display his stomach.

Then the pup bounded forward towards Muriel, jumping up tolick his face. The growling stopped completely. When he looked up to gentlypush the pup away, the mother’s hackles had fallen, and she was regardingMuriel curiously.

“I’m going to take that off now.” He pointed at the trap.

Removing the trap was difficult. If he twisted it the wrongway, the wolf would issue a warning growl directly in his ear that raised thehairs on the back of his neck again. The metal was cold and the sweat on his handsmade it colder, slipping beneath his hands without purchase. Several times therough edges cut into his fingers. And the pup, excited that he was helping, Helping!,kept bouncing around, trying to lick his hands. Eventually he noticed the dampenerand pressed down with all of his might; creaking, the metal slowly folded awayfrom the wolf’s leg until she was able to slip out.

The wolf jumped up, sending Muriel backwards onto theground. The pup jumped from him to its mother, yipping and licking at both oftheir faces. The adult wolf sat down and licked its leg. There was very little blood;the wound was not as bad as Muriel had thought it would be.

He stood up again and grabbed his pack, slinging it backover his shoulders. When he turned to leave, the wolf was looking at himcalmly. He left them both there.

He still had to find garlic, but now he was thirsty anddirty. He continued down the side of the river so as to move away from thewolves. At one point, the river bubbled out to create a small pool. He crouchedthere, splashing his hands in the water to clean them before taking a drink.

Big pup!

Muriel jumped up in surprise and turned around. There was noone there. But something was licking at his feet. The pup had followed him.

It looked up at him expectantly, head tilted.

“Go away,” he muttered.

Big pup, alone?

Muriel huffed and turned away, following along the river ashis eyes scanned the ground. He could hear the tiny wolf running through thegrass behind him. His one step probably accounted for twenty of its strides.

“Little pup,” he called it derisively, “go away!”

But it kept after him even as clouds moved in over the horizon, even though he bluntly ignored it. When he found the tiny white flowers ofwild garlic and began tearing them out of the ground by the root, the pup triedto help. All she got for it was a mouth full of flowers and strings of grass.

Ew. Why eat?

Muriel looked down at the wolf as she pawed at a flower inconsternation.

“Why are you following me? Go home.”

Where Big Pup’s pack? Big pup, alone? she askedagain.

He flared his nostrils and let out an angry breath.

“Yes. Now, go home.”

She looked up at him without saying anything.

Thunder boomed around them, followed by the illumination oflightning. Muriel could hear heavy rain sweeping towards them from the left. Heturned the other way and headed toward the edge of the forest, back to Vesuvia.He knew he wouldn’t make it to the city with how quickly the rain was moving,but he could make it to his tree.

He ducked underneath the branch and into the hollow just asthe rain pattered onto the leaves overhead. The fit was tighter than he hadremembered it, but he still had some room to recline back and stretch so longas he tucked his legs to the side.

Wet!

The wolf pup bounded out of the gloom and leapt into hislap. She shook her whole body to dry, flicking water into Muriel’s face. He gaveher a perturbed stare.

“I told you… go home.”

Big pup alone.She settled into his lap and rested her head on his stomach. Her large, yelloweyes stared up at him.

“What’s that got to do with you?”

Help.

He looked her over and poked her bulbous stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

She nibbled at his finger playfully with her loose milk teeth.

Help Big Pup, she corrected.

Muriel’s hands froze in her fur. The wolf pup licked hiswrist. He curled his fingers into her soft fur and stroked her languidly.

“Thank you.”

[bearfeathers]

“Why do I even bother” ineffable husbands prompt thingy, please!!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I had fun with it. :D I also really like the idea of Crowley and Aziraphale remaining part of Adam's life so... I doodled a little with that idea lol

[PROMPT ME!] | [AO3]

***

When Adam had reset the world, he'd done so in a way that meant most things had gone back to the way they were before. Most things.

One very noticeable difference was that Mr. and Mrs. Young seemed to be under the impression that a certain angel and demon were their son's godfathers. You see, Adam had thought that continuing to have them about would be quite useful—or at the very least entertaining—but that perhaps his parents would be alarmed if he were suddenly in the company of two strange adult men. So he fixed it.

Crowley had admittedly been a bit perturbed to find that Mr. Young now believed him to be an old school chum with an incredibly rare eye condition. He was always wanting to talk about things like whether Crowley had watched the football game or “the old days.” Crowley had to bite his tongue more than once when he was tempted to tell Mr. Young that his old days and Crowley’s old days were not even remotely the same old days. But he got used to it. Eventually. However, when Crowley and Aziraphale had attempted to explain to Adam that they were not, in fact, a happy couple as he had made his parents believe, the boy had merely shrugged and told them that he was pretty sure they were.

Interestingly enough, with a little time, he wound up being right about that.

In any case, today is an exciting day for Adam. Today is the first day of a week-long stay with his “godfathers” in a cabin they'd rented away from the city. And today they'd gone to the beach.

Aziraphale had immediately begun to establish ground rules: Adam would need sunscreen, he would need to return every two hours for reapplication, he was to wait thirty minutes after eating before swimming, he was not to leave their line of sight, he was not to talk to strangers... Adam had made a beeline for the ocean long before the angel could finish. 

"Why do I even bother?" Aziraphale sighs.

"He'll be fine," Crowley declares, watching Dog hurry towards the waves after his master. "Probably just will the sun not to burn him or something."

"He can't just use his powers for everything," Aziraphale protests, spreading their blanket on the sand by the rocks.

"And he's not, really," Crowley says, driving the pole of their umbrella into the ground. He watches the angel smooth the blanket out and place weights on the corners to keep the breeze from lifting it. He grins. "The sunhat is cute, by the way."

Aziraphale turns to glare at him from beneath the brim of the floppy sunhat in question. "Don't tease."

"Who says I'm teasing?" Crowley asks.

It's a fair assumption, though. Getting Aziraphale to the beach had taken some doing. It wasn't that the angel disliked nature, it's just that the beach was... well, he just felt rather uncomfortable with all the necessary steps with going there. Adam had reasonably pointed out that Aziraphale couldn’t expect to go to the beach in his usual attire and while this had made sense to the angel, it hadn't made him like the idea any more. 

After twenty minutes of debate, Adam and Crowley had finally managed to convince him to put on swimming trunks. Only when he had finally miracled up a pair, they looked as though they had been ripped from the early 20th century. It had taken another thirty minutes to convince him to come out of the bathroom and that they were sorry they'd laughed.

"I think it's an interesting change of pace, all this," Crowley says, nodding towards where Adam is jumping into the waves.

"Interesting is a good word for it," Aziraphale agrees, settling on the blanket and pulling out a book. “If you told me a year ago I would be taking the Antichrist to the beach on holiday, I’d’ve thought you were mad.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Crowley says, flopping onto the blanket beside him. “Though in all fairness, I think the ‘mad’ bit might still apply to both of us.”

Aziraphale makes a face that clearly says he can’t disagree. Reaching into their basket and nudging aside a few water bottles, Crowley retrieves the bottle of sunscreen the angel had packed and taps his open book with it.

“Lube me up?” he asks with a sly smile.

Well, Aziraphale can hardly say ‘no’ to that.

***

After splashing about in the waves had become tiresome and he had been pinched in the nose by an evil, evil crab–that he was very innocently inspecting, mind you–Dog retired to the shade of the umbrella to curl up beside Aziraphale and have himself a short nap. His master was busy making a sand castle with Crowley and so Dog felt he would be well looked after in the short span of time that Dog’s eyes were not on him.

“Is he going to stay under that umbrella all day?” Adam asks, packing sand into a pail. He could simply will a sandcastle into existence but that’s hardly any fun, really.

“In all likelihood,” Crowley tells him, decorating the outer wall with seashells. “He’s a bit fussy, as you may have noticed.”

“And you’re not,” Adam says, looking the demon dead in the eye.

“No, I’m particular,” Crowley corrects him. “There’s a difference. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Just like how I’ll start to like girls?” Adam says with a suspicious air.

“Yeah, well... Girls. Boys. Both. Neither,” Crowley says, waving a small plastic shovel as he talks. “Doesn’t matter, really. Humans tend to be narrow-minded about all that business anyway.”

Then again, humans can’t will their genitals in and out of existence and have a relatively short shelf-life compared to a demon so that may account for some of it. 

“Alright, water break.”

Crowley looks up to find water bottles being shoved in both their faces by Aziraphale, who has finally emerged from beneath the safety of his umbrella. Technically Crowley doesn’t need a water break, but being human, Adam does. The two of them tended to mirror his needs in regards to eating, drinking and resting—both because they didn’t want him to feel odd doing these things on his own and because they just enjoyed doing them anyway.

Rather than retreat back to the blanket after making his delivery, Aziraphale crouches beside them and takes in their handiwork. Crowley sips from his water bottle slowly as he watches the angel gradually realize what it is they’re building.

“This is an interesting choice,” Aziraphale hums.

“Crowley says it's what it used to look like,” Adam comments. "Kind of smaller than I thought it would be."

Aziraphale looks to the sand and stone and seashells artfully placed together in an imitation of Eden. To Crowley’s surprise, he smiles. “You know, I used to be in charge of this part. And over here is where Crowley and I met. Though, he was Crawly back then.”

Adam snorts a laugh. “Crawly?”

“I was a snake and Hell has no imagination,” Crowley says in his defense. “Neither of those things are my fault.”

"Still a dumb name," Adam declares.

"Why do you suppose I changed it?" Crowley asks, flicking a seashell at the boy.

"Was Crawly always your name?" 

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows at the question, watching as Adam packs on more sand to the southern wall. It's an... interesting question. The boy had asked it in a way that leads the angel to believe he already knew the answer. Crowley sucks in a breath through his teeth, studying the shells in his hand.

"No, it wasn't," the demon answers.

"What was your name before?" Adam asks, looking up at the demon from beneath a mop of unruly chestnut hair.

It's a question that not even Aziraphale knows the answer to. Crowley doesn't like to talk about... Before. Before the Fall. Before the War. And Aziraphale had never felt comfortable pushing the subject with him, no matter how much it seemed to bother him or how close they may have become. Aziraphale can't help but feel as though a cloud has just appeared on the horizon of an otherwise perfect day. The silence stretches on between the three of them, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the cry of the gulls above them filling the void. 

"You know what? I'll tell you something," Crowley says suddenly.

Aziraphale can hardly believe his ears. He's really going to say? Right now? Right here?

"This beach trip needs ice lollies!" Crowley shouts, jumping to his feet.

Ah. Of course. Aziraphale can't help but feel a bit disappointed as Crowley flicks the brim of his hat and asks them each what flavor they'd like. The angel sighs as he watches his partner walking alone up the beach under the guise of getting them all a treat.

"I don't understand why it's a big deal," Adam says. "It's just a name."

"Well, it is and it isn't," Aziraphale corrects him. "Crowley's old name—his first name—isn't something he likes to talk about. Not even I know what it is."

"Why wouldn't he tell you?" Adam asks, standing up and brushing sand off his trunks. "I thought he'd tell you everything."

"I wish it were so simple," Aziraphale says, rising to follow the boy back to the blanket. "But that name is from a time that most of us don't discuss. It was before the War that divided Heaven and Hell. Before your fath—before Lucifer was cast out and his followers with him."

"So Crowley was one of his followers," Adam surmises. He lies on his side beside Dog, scratching the sleeping hellhound's ears. "And he was kicked out with him."

Aziraphale sits beneath the umbrella, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his curly hair. "As I said, it's not all so simple. I wouldn't call Crowley one of Lucifer's followers, exactly, more like... well, more like he was just curious. Lucifer presented questions and ideas that most of us had never even considered and on some level that appealed to Crowley."

"It's a bit stupid to kick people out just for asking questions," Adam says. "I mean, you gave away a flaming sword and you got to stay."

"Yes. Um... well," Aziraphale says, clearing his throat.

"And anyway, if we did that all the time then we'd all end up alone eventually, don't you think?"

Aziraphale can't really argue with his logic. But it's different for humans than it is for them. Humans have the ability to choose—who they are and what they do. Angels and demons are bound by their nature to be just that.

"In any case," Aziraphale says, moving the conversation along, "what Crowley has told me is that his Fall was gradual. Until one day it just... happened. What you need to understand, Adam, is that when an angel falls, it's painful. To Fall is to have God's presence... ripped out of you. It's been said to be unbearable and I can only pray that I never have to experience it myself. Which is why I haven't ever tried to force Crowley to talk to me; because I can empathize, but never truly understand. Though, if he ever wishes to discuss it, he knows that I'll listen. I've made certain of that much at least."

Adam hums thoughtfully, rolling onto his back and staring up at the cloudless sky. For a few moments, he says nothing more and Aziraphale thinks that's the end of it.

"I don't think I can fix that," Adam admits. "I tried it just now but it felt sort of like the time I rode my bicycle into the side of my dad's car."

Aziraphale feels an unexpected rush of fondness at his words. He had always assumed that the Antichrist would be, well... rather hellish. But Adam has proven himself to be just as complex as any other human. And in that complexity, Aziraphale has seen a genuine wish to make things better for others—even if his methods aren't always the best choice.

The angel had quite liked the idea when Crowley had posed it some twelve or so years ago; the two of them being godfathers. But finding themselves actually playing the role now, Aziraphale is even more taken with it than he had thought he would be. There's something truly rewarding in directly impacting someone's growth, rather than the subtle, peripheral work he's used to undertaking with the human race. Even a mere year after they had first met him, Adam already seems to have changed and grown into another version of himself. He'll keep on growing and changing, just the way all humans do, but in a way that is decidedly different. Special.

"Well, there are certain things which are beyond even your control. But it was good of you to try," Aziraphale assures him with a smile. Seeing Crowley making his return trip across the beach, he knows it's time to put the matter to rest. For now, anyway. "Let's save the rest of this conversation for another time, shall we?"

Adam sits up, pursing his lips as he studies the angel sitting beside him. For a brief moment, Aziraphale wonders if he's not going to drop the matter so easily. But the Antichrist seems to deem this a wise decision and dips his head in a form nod. Aziraphale knows this won't be the end of this particular conversation, but it's best reserved, as he'd said, for another time.

After all, they have plenty of it.

[peterporkerpeter]

Code Red — Part Three [Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader]

MASTERLIST//CR MASTERLIST

WC: 2.900

Y/N shuffled into the black car, Tony sitting in the front with his hand steadily curled around the steering wheel. Clint happened to be conveniently placed beside him, his eyes continuously darting towards the rear view mirror to glance back at the two teens.

The car ride was absolutely silent—at least for the first half of the ride. Y/N was too anxious to make any half-assed quick-witted remarks, and Peter was too concerned with consoling her. His hand gently rest upon hers, the warmth of his fingertips radiating onto hers. A part of her was put to ease by the simple gesture, but that certainly didn't distract from the waves of anxiety crippling her every limb.

On top of that, she was hoping Clint would keep his big fat mouth shut, but that was unlikely. The archer always seemed to enjoy being a chaotic human being, so he was entirely unpredictable. Y/N despised that about him. She hoped that maybe he did know how to shut up, otherwise she was in for long ride and an earful from Tony.

"Why is no one talking?" Tony cut the silence with a knife. He spared at glimpse at the Clint then flickered his eyes up towards the mirror where he made eye contact with Y/N.

"Because I'm trying not to hurl," Y/N groaned, slouching back.

She blinked away fearful tears, not wanting to appear weak. She kept forgetting she was still a child, but Natasha's words kept ringing through her head. Now was not the time to act like a kid. It was important to remain structured and intact for the mission, as much as it pained her to do so. Y/N didn't realize how hard that was. Natasha seemed to do it so fluently like undercover work was merely instinct. Then again, she was a trained assassin.

"I think we should call this off," Clint added, pondering on his little conversation with Y/N earlier. He couldn't stop thinking about the miscellaneous Prom question. Why would she ask that?

"No!" Y/N shouted, sounding a lot harsher than she intended. Everyone shot her concerned glances before she relaxed, calmly shaking her head and adjusting her tone. "No, Clint. It's fine. I can do this. We've gone too far to give up now."

Time to grow up.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, this is going to bother me the whole night. Tony, I walked in on—"

"No!" Peter cried.

"Clint, I swear to God, you say one more fucking word I will throttle you! I. Will. Kill. You."

"Language!" Tony hissed. He looked skeptically between his three team mates, a muddled look in his whiskey brown eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

Clint was squirming in his seat like a five year old just desperate to tattle on Y/N and Peter. He kept fidgeting with his hands, making silent conversation with Y/N through mouthed words and violent hand gestures.

"I will kill you. Hold off for now. Do it later."

"Do what later?" Tony was starting to get antsy. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on."

"Nothing!" The three chanted in sync.

Tony pursed his lips, rolling his eyes before settling back into his seat. "Whatever. You guys are children. Ridiculous children. I'm gonna' bitch about this moment to you later during the drive home, FYI."

"You did not just say 'FYI' like that," Y/N winced. "You sound like a total dad when you do that. Soon enough, you're going to start saying 'LOL' out loud to fit in with the cool kids."

"You're very snappy tonight, little miss. You're lucky I don't hate you, otherwise I'd be yapping your ear off like a Chihuahua about how much your getting on my last nerve."

"I'm getting on your last nerve? Are you joking? Tony, I've pretty much had it up to here with you," she used her hand to show how fed up she was with him by furiously shoving it high into the air, "and the night has barely begun! You're practically throwing me into a fucking war zone to die! Give me a break!"

"Y/N, it was a joke! Jesus, kiddo!" Tony argued. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

Y/N thought she could hear her own heart loudly thumping against her chest. She could certainly feel it too. There was a giant lump in her throat, limiting the accuracy of her breathing, trembling, shallow breathes puffing past her lips. She slumped against the corner of the car, her arms wrapped around her body as if to protect herself from the cruel world. Slowly, she sank into a silent panic attack, shutting her eyes to hide herself from the people in the car.

"Y/N?" she noticed Tony's voice, but this time isn't wasn't dripping with sarcasm or aflame with a fiery remark. It was soft and soothing, full of uncommon sincerity. "You've gotta' stop thinking so much. All you're doing is freaking yourself out. You have five of us in there with you. Five. They'll have eyes on you the whole time, they're going to keep you safe. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Y/N used the pad of her thumb to blot away a tear that managed to appear on her waterline. She didn't want to ruin her makeup—another reason why she hated wearing it so much. Tears were bound to happen eventually, and she did not want to be walking around with mascara tracks stained onto her cheeks. She drew out a shaky breath, then swallowed her fear.

"Yeah," she replied. "That's what they all say right before something bad happens. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Let's just get it done."

"Sounds good, Hermione," Clint sighed.

Y/N grinned.

Eventually, the car pulled up to the front of the location. The gala was located at an art museum in the center of the city, which Y/N found to be quite the glamorous place for such a luxurious party. She noticed all the women entering through the entrance wearing long, elegant gowns with their handsome dates locked like a chain around their arm. The jewelry was flashy and the cameras were clicking. She could hear conversation carrying fluently across the sea of expensive color rolling in through the grand front doors.

"Good luck, Y/N. You got this kid. And you look like a million bucks," Tony turned around in his seat to face her. "Also, no making out with Parker. At least, not during the mission. I don't care what you do afterwards. Make sure your comms are on."

"Love you," she said quickly, not even thinking before the words came flying out of her mouth. Subconsciously, she supposed it was a good time to say it, seeing as there were a million different ways—good or bad—that this thing could go. She didn't want to take any chances.

Her hand found Peter's as he escorted her from the car, and immediately the folding red hot waves of anxiety succumbed to the tenderness of his touch. Y/N let out a long breath, collecting herself before forcing the fakest smile onto her painted features. She wanted to apologize to Peter for how clammy her hands were, but he didn't seem to care in the slightest. With ease, he extended his elbow towards her, and she took it graciously.

"You okay?" Peter asked. Y/N hadn't even realized they were already up the whole flight of steps.

"Yeah, just flustered. I can do this, right?" Y/N whispered, breathing in how attractive he looked in his suit. She wondered if they looked good together from afar.

Peter smiled daintily, brushing a messy strand of hair from her eyes. "Definitely."

She flashed her friend a dimpled grin before lacing her fingers with his. They poured into the museum, the hum of classical music instantly filling her ears, drowning out the harsh clamor of perturbation. She heard the steady taps of high heels rapping against the sleek marble tiles, men's shoes clicking aimlessly as they trailed behind their dates or danced with them enthusiastically. Chatter hovered at an even pace throughout the tall halls, wine glasses clinking together in an epiphany of joy and gathering.

Y/N glanced up towards the massive crystal chandelier dangling from the sky like a star. A large mural painted the ceiling with reds, blue, beiges and greens. The colors seemed infinite. Art littered the walls, surrounded by engraved golden frames. The place was absolutely stunning—it reminded Y/N somewhat of a building she'd see in France or Greece. God, how she wished she could see those wondrous places.

"Wow!" she gasped, absorbing the view for all its worth.

Peter shared a similar awestrucken expression as his date. "I see Natasha and Clint. Wanda and Steve should show up by the bar any second now."

Y/N nodded, ignoring the brisk stares from adults silently commending her dress. She made the smile on her face relaxed, trying to keep her appearance more inviting by standing up straight and keeping her brows subtly lifted.

"Testing, testing. Ground control to Major Tom. This is Tony Stark—AKA Iron Bitch. Do you copy?"

"Oh, my God. Stark. Shut the fuck up," Clint groaned.

"Affirmative."

Y/N giggled, Tony's ridiculous commentary settling her nerves and making the situation appear less frightening than it initially seemed.

After everyone checked to make sure their comms were working, the plan was in motion.

Peter stuck out his hand, blinking nervously. "Uh, wanna' dance? I-I mean, we kind of have to, but . . ."

"Spider-ling shoots his shot aaaaannndd . . . he fails. Quite dramatically. Better luck next time, pal."

Y/N bit down on her lip, repressing a cheeky smile. She graciously accepted his hand, entwining their fingers together. A gleeful chuckle flew from her lips and Peter felt relaxed by here sincere reaction, escorting her to the dance floor.

"Fair warning, I-I don't really know how," Y/N warned.

"It's okay. Me neither. We can just follow what everyone else is doing and hope they don't judge us."

She extended her arms, trying to follow what the other adults in the room were doing. She clasped her hand onto his shoulder then threaded her other soft, manicured hand with his, moving their arms outwards away from their bodies. His available hand looped around the girl's waist, lying firmly against her back. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together. Y/N could feel his breath on her lips, her heels providing enough height for her to be eye-to-eye level with him.

"I kind of want to kiss you right now, but Tony's in my ear and that just makes me feel dirty," Y/N said, staring at his lips, annoyed that she couldn't close the agonizing gap between their faces.

"I don't know whether to feel relieved or uncomfortable."

"Wait, are they kissing? Should they be doing that?" Definitely Steve.

"Ha! I walked in on them kissing in Peter's room." Clint. The rat.

"Way to keep a secret, Clint. I'm never telling you anything anymore!" Y/N hissed under her breath.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!"

"I'm sorry, they what in Peter's what? I'm offended I didn't know that. Is that the secret you three gremlins were fighting about in the car? It definitely was. I don't care. I want the details. How was it?"

"Y/N made a vow to not fall in love with Peter, and she broke it barely thirty minutes in."

"You made a vow to not fall in love with me?"

"I thought she broke that vow like a month ago!" Steve felt confused. "Or was that a different one?"

"That was the one where she vowed off chocolate milk."

"Ohhh," he understood. "I remember that."

"Yeah, you're an old man so you wouldn't remember those kinds of things, Steven."

"What?! Everyone shut up! Focus on the mission, stop talking! You're stressing me out!" Y/N muttered, her tone thick with irritation.

"Yikes, I feel like I'm listening to a soap opera."

The conversation finally died down, and Y/N just wanted to curl up beside Peter and take a long nap. Her exhaustion was nearly enough for her to ask to call of the mission, but she decided that was rather a ridiculous reason.

Y/N slid her arm around Peter's neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. His arm tightened around her waist, large palms resting flat against her bare back. Her skin was cold against the pads of his fingers. He felt electrified by her. The scent of vanilla soon wafted towards his nose, and he closed his eyes, their hands still absentmindedly entwined, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment it felt like they weren't on mission. It was just Y/N and Peter, swaying away in the middle of a ball room, bodies pressed together, undoubtedly young and in love, unbeknownst to it. It felt like they were normal—like Y/N didn't have powers and Peter wasn't enhanced. They weren't Avengers or superheroes. They weren't challenged by the everyday horrors of the real world. They were just stupid teenagers with a lot on their plate and diverging paths, with broken vows and shimmering promises.

Reluctantly, Y/N opened her eyes, settling back into reality, removing her hand from Peter's and placing it smoothly onto his shoulder. He snaked his hand down towards her waist until his arms locked around her. Peter started to scope out the area out behind her, attempting to identify Axel Klein in the crowd. Y/N's eyes skimmed past anonymous faces until finally they did a complete rotation around the entirety of the room, her eyes recognizing the blonde haired boy meandering through the hefty crowd with a glass of champagne.

"I've got eyes on the subject," she mumbled, taking one last moment to press her mouth against Peter's shoulder. She inhaled the scent of his cologne, closing her eyes to bask in it.

"Go for it, Y/N. Your time to shine."

Y/N felt the anxiety slowly creep back, but she couldn't turn back now. She was brave. She could do this.

"I loved dancing with you, Peter Parker," Y/N always loved to say his full name. It rolled so pleasingly off the tongue, by now it was a habit. "Please tell me I'm not going to fuck this up."

Peter half-smiled at the girl, rubbing her shoulder gently. "You're not going to fuck this up. And I liked dancing with you, too."

"Ugh, cringe . . . Sorry, did I say that out loud? I would say just kiss already, but that would blow the whole operation. So Parker, kindly stop staring at Y/N's lips, please and thank you. Good luck, kiddo."

Y/N started to walk, but she couldn't leave yet. She didn't want to leave Peter. She already felt alone without his hands caressing her back like she was the most important thing in the world to him. She turned around to face her friend, eyes practically pleading with him not to let her go.

Peter himself had no clue how he felt. His heart was racing, his palms were sweaty. He felt like he would pass out at any given moment. All he wanted to do was protect Y/N, but he knew deep down that she needed to do this. Something inside of him stirred at the horrific thought of this being their final interaction together. He wanted to be with her forever. He would love to be with her forever.

"I-is Axel looking?" she asked, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"W-what? No? He's uh, he's turned around talking to some man."

"Good," Y/N breathed, lurching forward to grab his face. She pressed a quick kiss against his lips, basking in the moment as short lived as it was. Her thumbs laid gently on his cheekbones, as if Peter himself was the most delicate, precious thing in the world to him. She wanted just one more memory of Peter Parker, just one last part of him to hold onto. She just wanted to taste him one last time.

"Oh! Shit! She shoots! She scores!"

Muted colors rained down upon them from the mural painting the sky, violins humming softly in the distance, the deep groan of a cello bouncing like an echo off the walls. The kiss was short but more passionate than the first. It said everything that needed to be said without the interruption of unnecessary words threaded together into unnecessary sentences. It was everything all wrapped up into one pretty, defective bow.

"Thanks for the dance," she whispered, turning around quickly, not taking the chance to see the look on his face. She was afraid if she did she would never leave him.

"Woah. That was . . . pretty intense." Clint took a long sip of his drink.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Hormones."

"Is it just me or am I feeling way too many emotions? I'm literally drowning in teen angst. This is horrible, I feel like I'm in high school all over again," Tony added, sinking back into the seat of his car, the laptop balanced on his lap.

Y/N casually walked through the crowd, fixated on getting Axel's attention. An idea burned bright in her mind, a smirk growing confidently onto her red lips.

She strutted over in his direction, keeping her shoulders back and chin high. Just out of the corner of her eye she could see Steve and Wanda watching intensely.

Once when you're in the car. Twice in the house. Three times in case of an emergency. Three times in case of a code red. Once. Twice. Thrice.

TAG LIST: @reallyconfusednowpt2 @-thatgirloverthere- @mca-attack21 @high-functioning-fangirl02 @yourwonderbelle @printedpeterparker

[adidasdobok]

My Week In Summary

Monday: GM is out this week chaperoning a sports camp for her daughter's HS. A few black belts and myself were left in charge to teach. 4:15 class Mrs V taught and I assisted a little, she's so great with the kids and I really loved seeing that. 5:30 class I taught which was both cool and a little awkward for me personally since I am a Bo Dan and had two 1st dans in my class but only one of them seemed perturbed though, which I expected. The class went quite well though. 6:45 class Mr M taught and I trained with a group of awesome white belts.

Tuesday: Mr. M taught 5:30 class which was just seriously awesome. A hard work out, good content, constant smiles.

Wednesday: K taught 4:15 I trained and assisted a little. For his age, (16-17) he's an amazing instructor I just wish he'd see that in himself. K is awesome he is his hardest and only critic, at least in the dojang. 5:30 I taught it was mostly beginners and one older 1st Dan. We had really productive class, some heavy cardio and it just ran really smooth.

Thursday: I took Thursday evening off to get some things done at home.

Friday: around 11 am I went and cleaned the dojang since earlier in the week I noticed we needed it. As I got going I realized just how much we needed lol. I finished up around 3:30pm. 5:30 class K stayed to train my class which was a blessing because I had him, a young blue belt, two adult white belts and two very young white belts who I don't know very well but he does and that was helpful. When we wrapped up I got a few thank you's which is always nice to hear.

Highlights:

Cleaning the dojang and having my 'safe place' to myself was a warm-fuzzy feeling as was the act of caring for it. It's been a very long time since I've had the opportunity to do either. I say this often though idk if I've said it here, Taekwondo is the closest thing I have to religion so I guess this feeling would be akin to caring for one's place of worship.

Every night apart from Thursday, I stayed to close up and as I sat in the office hearing kids dash out and yelling "bye, ma'am!" my heart lit up. This is unspoken tradition in our dojang and obviously they are normally bidding our GM a good night but as it is my long term goal to own my own dojang, hearing them yell to me as I once did to her almost brought tears.

Hope everyone's week was awesome. I hope to hear about it!

[fredrweasley]

Kiss AU: Challenge Accepted????? This may or may be OOC (but hell it's an AU, kill me).

(had to write this from the perspective of a muggleborn - or raised - witch/wizard [your take, it’s written in the reader’s perspective, lol] because I couldn’t help making the little mermaid reference, okay? ok. Obviously with changed lyrics to fit the mood!) There you see him, sitting there across the way. He don’t got alot to say but there’s something about him. And you don’t know why but you’re dying to try… You wanna kiss the guy. He’d brought you out here, somehow, through the passage of the One-Eyed Witch. You had been too engrossed in just being suddenly taken by the hand and wisked out here. Honeydukes had been closing up for the night and he slipped you and him out the back door, quiet as mice. Now the two of you sat in the yard of the Shreiking Shack. You would define this as romantic so to speak, but somehow it was like him, so you accepted it, as his way of being romantic. You couldn’t argue it was secluded, and with the groans and shreiks the house was “gently” making behind you, no one would come up here, so the two of you would be undisturbed. Genius plan, really. Genius plan for what though? When he had taken you by the hand his eyes had been so intense, more than you ever had seen them before. He was on a mission, for something, some reason and here you were, and that Disney song has popped up in your head giving you an emotion you couldn’t quite describe.

“Listen,” and you name fell from his lips like a prayer, sending a shiver down your spine as he turned towards you, taking your hands in his. “I must look weird, but, I couldn’t just stand by anymore.” He says your name again, an, ah, is he learning closer? Oh he’s definately learning closer. You lick your lips in anticipation and that causes his gaze to flick down to said appendages. Oh man! He’s definately moving closer now. “I want to kiss you, is that okay?” Your heart thuds against your chest and all you can do is meakly nod and his lips were upon yours in the next second, like he couldn’t just wait another moment. A pleasant warmth spread through your body down to your toes as you felt his hands thread into your hair, bringing you impossibly closer. His lips moved expertly - at least you thought it was expertly, you hadn’t had much experience in the art of kissing, so what he was doing was pretty damn good - his teeth grazing your bottom lip sucking it into his mouth just breifly before pulling away just slightly, allowing the two of you to breathe. When you opened your eyes, he was staring directly into yours, his forehead pressed against your own and his chest was heaving. You realized in the fog of the moment you had stupidly done nothing with your hands as they braced you against the grass during what just happened. He didn’t seem to perturbed by that though. However, when he began to move away, your hands finally called to action, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him in again, teeth clanging against teeth. You were hungry for more. He made a noice in the back of his throat at your sudden reaction that gave you a delicious feeling in unmentionable parts and he was leading you in the dance of lips again, hands sliding over the exposed flesh of your hips at the hem of your shirt, up your back, pulling you ever closer to him. Fin. ———————- That probably wasn’t like OMG AMAZING, but that’s what I write when I imagine kissing him for my OC. He’d be a great kisser, I think, lol

OMG I JUST SAW THIS IDK HOW BUT OMG SO GOOD I LOVE IT !!! -lila

[sakuurae]

any writing tips u can share?? i adore your work so much, just the way everythings described flows so nicely~

Mmmm, im not the best with this, but ill try ^~^ thank you by the way! Ehehe, it means a lot.This advice will go on like stepping stones, haha.

1. This is probably the most broad thing i can say, but just keep on writing. When i used to tutor creative writing (or english as a whole, lol) i met a lot of students who were so focused on sculpting their writing to perfection, and the purpose of it was lost along the way. This happens a lot, from what ive seen, in creative writing. I feel as if when writers are more focused on creation their pieces to perfection in hopes of it being acknowledged and seen, theyre not writing for themselves anymore; thus, this leads into the second piece of advice. Practice makes perfect. Everything that you will write you are improving in every single piece—even if you dont realize it. The things ive written two weeks ago make me cringe, but thats a sign of improvement.

Work with your strengths, and improve your weaknesses.

Go back and read your old work so you can see what you like and dont like—what you should improve on or keep doing.

2. Write for yourself. The value of your work is so much more when you write for yourself because it makes you happy.

Moving onto the composition work…

1. Vocabulary bank. It takes a while to build up a wide vocabulary bank, but its worth it. In my opinion, its more engrossing to read a piece with a lot of high vocabulary over the simple words. It bumps up everything, and if theres a good sentence flow then its a plus.

I studied word lists everyday, and i always do every other day because i want to keep on building up my vocab. They are always out there, and its a total helper!!

For me, id rather read an entire piece that was written like an SRI test over pieces that dont have that much high lexicon.

This also becomes the case for the word said. There are many words out there to use aside said, like drones, equivocates, gasps, jeers, etc.

Ex: “He wanted to tell her the truth.” ➝ “He had an urge to apprise her of the concerning verities.”

2. Sentence structure. Some sentences are far too shot, and some are really extensive (and do not have commas, semi-colons—oh my goodness). Now, sentences dont always have to be extremely long; there should be a variety. Itll make the paragraph flow more, and you can get the emphasis where you want on certain places.

Ex: “His eyes shined under the darkness of the night. The smile that graced his face warmed you from the heart. And it was not an everyday occurrence for that to take place.” ➝ “The smile that graced his face made his eyes crinkle into crescent moons, the glint evident in his two orbs. It warmed you from the inside—his beaming grin—and it was not often you felt this from another individual.”

Speaking on this, try to not use the same prominent word twice in one sentence.

Ex: “He turned the paper face down, turning his head to face his friend.” ➝ “He turned the paper over, tilting his head to address his friend.”

3. Being metaphorical. Im not really sure how to elaborate on this; i guess it provides more depth/character to the paragraph?? Aah, heres an example instead.

Ex: “The sky was a calming blue, the cluster of brilliant stars surreal to your eyes.” ➝ “The curtain of aegean draped over the muted sky, golden pins splaying upon the surface.”

4. Adjectives. It bumps up your sentences—trust me. With more details, it becomes easier to picture in your mind. Have you read a smut without adjectives, and another smut with? The difference is quite prominent because with one you can imagine the scene with more detail, and the other not as well.

Ex: “His member was twitching, the pleasure of being inside you unbearable.” ➝ “His stiff member was twitching uncontrollably, the overwhelming pleasure of being inside you borderline unbearable.”

or

“Sweat dripped from his forehead.” ➝ “Beads of sweat slowly dripped from his forehead.”

But try to not be heavy on the adjectives… i still struggle with this, haha, but i think many readers can tell if you have a thesaurus in hand or not.

5. Paragraph breaks. This might not seem like a biggie, and it is completely up to you when you decide to break paragraphs, but there are times that one must paragraph break… like with dialogues or setting changes, or when a new character is introduced. Please… avoid the block… oh my goodness…

6. This might be a me thing… but go into detail with the actions. To say this under a brighter light, imagine this: actions during a kiss scene. When you kiss someone, you and the other’s mouths arent the only thing that are moving, and the touch of the lips arent the only thing youre feeling. 

Ex: “He pressed his lips against yours, his mouth prancing to the melody of your heartbeat.” (and thats it) ➝ “He pressed his lips against your own, his mouth prancing to the melody of your heartbeat as his hands trace the outline of your body. You palm snakes up his back, only to place it on the nape of his neck to tug him closer. At such a closed proximity, you noticed something else: his scent. There was a swirl of cinnamon and vanilla that intoxicated your senses… etc.”

What im trying to say is that going into some detail, brief or not, about actions will add more sparkle into the paragraph—especially dialogue.

Ex: “’You’re kidding me,’ he groaned, flailing his arms in the air animatedly. He was in a disbelief at the sudden news, lodged at a crossroads on how to respond. ‘You’re fucking kidding me!’

You took a step back, placing a fist over your heart cautiously. ‘I-I’m sorry,’ you uttered weakly, tears pooling at your eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to.’”

Obviously the apostrophes wont be there in the final product, lol, it would perturb me if i didnt write that grammatically correct, ahaha.

Think of these composition levels as a pyramid. From letters, to words, to sentences, to paragraphs, the purpose of the piece, etc. The letters would be the bottom. So if you mess up at the bottom of the pyramid, the rest is disrupted. I read over a paper before where the first and second base were horrendous, and i was correcting it so much. The student came up to me and asked me what i thought about the message of the piece, but i actually paused and thought. I was so focused on correcting the mistakes—paying attention to the mistakes—to the point i missed the entire purpose of the piece. So, honestly, proofreading will be your best friend here.

All of this falls under the tab of your style. Remember, dont try to force out word after word to sculpt your piece into perfection. Work with your strengths, find your weaknesses and improve.

On the finding inspiration and keeping motivation side…

1. Work at your own pace. Do what makes you feel like your best work will be exhibited, and dont let other deadlines push you at your limit. Personal deadlines would most likely take the fun out of your writing process, and you might miss some particulars youd wish to convey—so dont rush! Trust me on this, lol. I made this mistake again when writing overrated, and im so hesitant to even hit that upload button because of how much i rushed it to meet my personal deadline. I keep re-reading and editing it, but i know that if i spent my time on it and pushed aside the personal deadline then it would be better.

2. Inspiration comes at the most random of times. I got ideas from waiting in the line in the bathroom and in the middle of my english class; they come when you least expect them too. If you force it out then it wont be that good (for me, that is). Of course, you can go out and find inspiration by walking outside or listening to music, but dont try to force out ideas—let them come to you.

You can write about real life occurrences that have taken place, or base stories off those. ‘Two Cups of Sugar’ is based off my friends experience of trying to get a guys number at an ice cream bar, but always failing so she went back around seven times—and only got his name in the end.

An upcoming fic i have is based off my boyfriend and i, and how we came to be. To be honest, all my fics are based off some real life experiences i had, or some outrageous stories my friends have told me. ‘Study Sessions’ was some real events, and a few scenes in ‘After Hours.’ What im trying to say is that those simple stories can take you a long way. The scene that started ‘After Hours’ was my friend talking about a bar. It was supposed to be a 4k bar scene, but after thinking about her experience and incorporating it into my own piece, it built its own way to 21k, and an ongoing series.

3. Keeping up motivation. Depending on what youre writing, you should focus on those elements. For example, im writing two fics—one of them being a basketball au and the other a soccer au. My motivation for that has seriously been dying, so ive been watching basketball videos and soccer games to keep my motivation running. Also, it helps when writing out action scenes, ahaha. I also talk to my friends that play those sports and ask them about how they feel about it and the rules of the game. Just kindle your flame with more information.

I know im not the best at giving advice… and there is way more in this whole writing sphere that im not addressing, but i hope this helps!! This is just what i think, what i go through, and my opinion—i really hope this helps you out. I wasnt sure what department you wanted concrete information on, whether it be the writing process or inspiration side or etc, so i briefly did all three :)

I know its a lot, so thank you for spending the time to read all of this ^~^

[kitanoko]

Can I get a jealous Izuku izuocha fanfic? 030 (that's bad wording lol)

   Note: Wow, 3 fics in 3 days HAHA, I’m in love with writing these so thanks for the ask and also for being so supportive! Yay, Eri and Kaibara Sen (Class B guy) play a role in this story. The wiki had no info on Kaibara’s quirk; it just mentions that he does some swirling thing. Also was inspired by a scene from Heiji x Kazuha from Conan. Happy Reading!

In which Midoriya goes undercover 

“Just check out the bridge, Midoriya,” Todoroki uttered intothe phone, “Iida and I will split up and check out the stations.”

“Got it,” the green haired boy replied as he stepped to theside a bit, eyes lingering on the next location, “I’m a few steps away so I’llsee if there’s anything. I’ll give you a call if he turns up.”

“Thanks. Be careful out there.”

Beep.

Midoriya hung up without looking and stuffed his phone intohis back pocket. If experience had taught him anything (other than not tounderestimate your enemy), Midoriya knew that it’s always best to wear adisguise before heading to a drug deal.

Todoroki, Iida and Midoriya were assigned by their agenciesto check out various locations where an infamous yakuza gang were doing theirdrug exchange. It had been a few years since he, Mirio and the otherssuccessfully rescued Eri and despite having minor panic attacks once in awhile, Eri had decided to work for Midoriya in order to contribute herknowledge on gang raids and their functions. It lifted Midoriya’s spirits tothink how impressive it was for Eri to have grown this much since the incident.

Pulling down his baseball cap and zipping up his navy bluewindbreaker, Midoriya slogged through the busy, wet streets of Kamino andstopped at the west side of the bridge. According to Eri, yakuza members wouldusually send a young guy whose appearance isn’t anything conspicuous to do thetrade. Optimal time should be around 6 o’clock where everyone’s rushing backhome from work too. Midoriya lifted his arm to glance at his bulky sportswatch. 5:30 p.m, it read, meaning anything could happen within the next hour.

Hopefully Eri’s right and they didn’t miss it.

As he watched one of the ducks swim across the river belowwhere he stood, he rested his arms on the railings and held his chin in hishand. Such trifling scenery was to be admired often. Particularly for heroeswhose lives and reputation were always at stake. Midoriya knew his career wasnot all glorious even for an optimistic guy like him, and finding work-life balancewas challenging.

At the corner of his eye, a slender girl wearing a brightorange off-the-shoulder dress appeared within his range of view and he turned hishead slightly, still resting on his palm. He looked at the girl, round-eyed.

It was Uraraka, and she wasn’t alone.

“Kaibara-kun,” Uraraka said, standing too close to the boyin front of her in Midoriya’s opinion, “How’ve you been?”

Kaibara was a dark-haired boy from Class B, Midoriyaremembered, and the way he portrayed himself to Uraraka made his head steam.Since both of them had a busy schedule, Midoriya and Uraraka had been hangingout with one another only on the rare occasion that their old classmates would meet up.It’s unfortunate, but being the best of the best was everyone’s priority so noone had the courage or the time to focus on their love lives. Midoriya groanedto himself, his eyes peeled at the pair a few meters away from him. Should he say hi? Midoriya pondered butfought against it. He had a mission. This was not the time to be doing anythingother than his duty as a hero.

However, it was quite odd as to why Uraraka hasn’t noticedhim at all. Given their somewhat close proximity, he would have expected her toat least do a wave. The green-haired boy shook his head from side to side, attemptingto clear his mind completely but failed.

And so he continuedto observe from afar.

“I bought the tickets,” Kaibara spoke as he stuck his handsin his jacket, “see?” He pulled out two pieces of wrinkled paper and Midoriyaassumed they were the tickets, “Beauty and the Beast, you said you wanted towatch it.”

Uraraka’s face brightened, “yeah! I can’t believe you remembered!”She had the voice of an angel and the face of a princess, but Midoriya wishedit was directed at him instead. The boy’s fists clenched watching those two andhe cursed under his breath. Why would they need to watch the movie when Kaibaracould easily be the beast?!

Midoriya grunted. Kaibara’s presence was cringe-worthy, andhis ass was clearly asking for a beating. Suddenly, to his right, a man holdinga bouquet of roses stopped right between Midoriya and the pair, distracting theone-for-all hero from his pensive gaze. The green-haired boy turned around andtook a few steps back, eyes still locked onto Uraraka and felt a vibration.

“Hello?” Midoriya picked up his phone and began to talksoftly, “It’s cool over here. How about you guys?”

Todoroki’s voice was stern, “Nothing over here, Eri messagedand said it’s most likely gonna be at the bridge. Keep your eyes opened.”

“Ah alrig—“ Midoriya froze without warning and stared withhis mouth wide open. Was Kaibara holdingonto Uraraka’s waist? And she seems to be totally fine with it? Impedinghimself from yelling right then, he noticed the two were positioned like peasin a pod. He exhaled to keep composed.

It’s fine. They’refriends, he tried to convince himself, yet he couldn’t drag his focus away. Patience is virtue. Patience is —

“Wait a minute, Todoroki.”

 Without letting go ofthe phone, his arms swung fervently back and forth as he pushed a stranger, whowas receiving the bouquet from the previous man, away. He stomped right throughthat couple and pulled heavily on Kaibara’s jacket, receiving a stupefied lookfrom the latter.

The next sounds that came from Midoriya’s side of the phoneto Todoroki’s was a cry of anguish.

“Midoriya, what’shappening?“ Todoroki inquired as he felt himself sweating from the disturbance.Was Midoriya engaging the yakuza now?

“Whatare you doing to my Uraraka?!” Midoriya yelled as bystanders formed asemi-circle to watch, pointing and whispering.

Uraraka innately grasped onto Midoriya’s arm, causing theboy to drop his phone, “Deku-kun, what are you doing? Let go of Kaibara-kunnow!”

“Midoriya, could you still hear me? I’m heading over rightnow!” Todoroki was still yelling into the phone and Uraraka’s eyebrows lookedas if they were knitted together in annoyance.

With a quick push, Kaibara pried himself out of Midoriya’sfierce restraint, the former taking the heated accusation in stride. There wassomething else Kaibara seemed to be focused on at the moment and as quick as abullet, Kaibara turned to face the other way.

Midoriya darted his eyes towards the same direction andrealized that the couple that were beside them were now running off. The crowdseemed to be in a panic as the bridge began to rumble all of a sudden.  Crap,Midoriya muttered to himself, so it wasthem all along!

“Uraraka,” Kaibara cried out, readying his quirk, “stand infront of me, without my quirk we can’t catch up to them!”

Uraraka nodded quickly, pulling Midoriya behind her in oneswift movement as the concrete bridge swayed back at forth. Must be the villain’s powers. Midoriyaknew he compromised their mission, and his heart paced, feeling as though avoid had swallowed him whole.

Kaibara motioned hisfingers with ease and let out a small puff of air from his mouth. Withinseconds, the puff of air became a torrent and a giant tornado shot out, liftingUraraka forward in a blink of an eye. Uraraka elongated her arms, timingperfectly as she reached the villains and their shocked faces were the lastthing she saw as both of them started to levitate into the air. Writhing theirarms and legs, the villain’s bouquet slipped out of their grasp and soon, whatassumed to be bags of quirk enhancing drugs floated out of the tissue wrappingof the roses. The gravity heroine detained them with handcuffs and within minutes a teamof policemen came.

Uraraka huffed and wiped a sweat off her forehead as Kaibaraand Midoriya ran towards her.

“Excellent job!” Kaibara lifted his palm up and they did ahigh-five in victory. Midoriya’s gaze fixated on her in disappointment.

“I’m so sorry,” Midoriya let out and Uraraka stifled agiggle.

“I can’t believe you thought we were dating! I’ve never seenyou so…irrational before!” Uraraka playfully punched Midoriya and Kaibara beganto laugh as well.

“I’d suggest you don’t let your boss find out that yourcover got blown because of jealousy though,” Kaibara said, looking at theembarrassed expression on Midoriya’s face.

Uraraka sighed, “Our agency was also on this case, so Kaibara-kun and I were undercover. But we weren’t allowed to tell you Deku-kun.” She scratched her cheek gingerly and ablush appeared on her face, “What was it that you said again? Something aboutme being yours?”

Kaibara smirked and walked away from the two, allowing themprivacy.

“I didn’t say that!” Midoriya denied. Abruptly, the eeriesound of his own voice appeared behind him. Turning on his heel, Todoroki stoodthere, one hand on a button of his phone and the other ensconced in his frontpocket.

“What are you doing to my Uraraka—what are you doing tomy—what are you—“ Todoroki kept pressing ‘rewind’ and ‘play’ one after theother on his phone, and thwarted his phone away from getting seized by aperturbed Midoriya as the green-haired boy headed to him.

Todoroki had an uncanny knack for irritating others withouttwitching a muscle.

Hearing the awkward replay of Midoriya’s inadvertentconfession, Uraraka greeted Todoroki with a wave of her hand. Her actions wereflustered, and she began to occupy herself with the police team.

“Ugh, you’re ruthless,” Midoriya groaned, “tell me you’lldelete that from your phone.”

“Nope,” Todoroki said, uncaring, “I want to show Iida. Andprobably Yaoyorozu too. And your mom.”

“….Todoroki, you better not…”

Uraraka shifted her eyes over to the two boys as thepolicemen drove away and her lips tugged upwards toward Midoriya, who wouldalways be displaying his protective side for her sake.

She’s going to confronthim about today for sure. But right now, she needed to concentrate on the responsibilitiesthat await behind the closed doors of her office.

[ecotone99]

[HM, SP] No-Star Reviews

Joel struggled to find the right words.

He’d written so much so often lately that it had become difficult not to describe his thoughts but to piece together sentences that differentiated them from one another.

“Incompetent,” he typed, then paused.

No, scratch that, he thought. Delete, delete, delete.

“Negligent,” came out through the flurry of clicks.

Too easy to rebut, he thought.

“Malignant and diseased,” he typed as a sneer crossed his face and tears spilled over his lip and into his mouth.

He’d found the perfect words with the perfect weight.

He hit the enter key and felt a wave of exhilaration that made his face flush.

Just two months and more than a hundred thousand words ago, Joel decided he’d had enough of his mother, his boss and what felt like a million others walking across his back each day. Any man with an ounce of pride would never have taken the abuse so long, which meant there was no reason to take it a day longer, Joel thought as he stared at his paunchy reflection in a mirror spotted with flecks of toothpaste.

“I will build my own empire. Today,” he whispered through gritted teeth then wiped away the evidence of his sobbing and put in eye drops hoping to avoid tipping off his mother that he’d been crying again.

But the groundbreaking had to wait. Eight or nine hours, at least. Mr. Figginbottom promised Joel he’d be fired if he called out again and Joel was sure the octogenarian wasn’t lying this time. His boss’s 50-something nephew had recently moved back to town, surely after being kicked out of his own mother’s house after yet another failed stint at a rehab, and Mr. Figginbottom was looking for any excuse to give away Joel’s gig. And while no man ever became rich selling pool supplies for a man who couldn’t even become rich owning a small chain of pool supply stores, Joel needed at least one more paycheck to cover his own startup expenses.

The windfall came sooner than expected, though. Joel had barely clocked in when the phone at the front desk rang. INTERNAL, it said.

“Checkout, this is Joel,” he answered.

“Joel, this is Figs. Can you come back and see Linda in my office?”

“It’s a little busy up here, actually. There’s a woman who was asking Roger for help with chlorine tablets and as soon as she asked, two more people walked in …”

“Joel, I want to make clear that I wasn’t asking a question, I was giving an order,” the man on the line said.

A long silence took hold before Mr. Figginbottom tired of waiting.

“Joel, I said …”

“Yessir, be right back,” Joel said and slammed down the receiver.

Joel was surprised to see Mr. Figginbottom in the office.

“I thought Linda was supposed to be here,” Joel said from the doorway, still holding the knob.

“She’s right there,” Mr. Figginbottom said, pointing to a blonde woman holding a clipboard sitting on the small sofa hidden behind the door.

“Hi, Joel,” she said warmly as she leaned into view.

“Son, sit down,” Mr. Figginbottom said.

Joel had no idea what this could be about but he wondered if it wasn’t his opportunity to preemptively quit. To tell Mr. Figginbottom this was the worst job he had ever had working for the biggest idiot he had ever met who owned the worst company in the world.

“Joel, we saw the tape,” Mr. Figginbottom said. “I’ll be honest, I’m half tempted to beat you myself first but Linda here says that’s not going to look good for my insurance rates, so I’m just going to tell you to get out of here right now.”

Joel was stuck on the part about the tape when he realized there was more to process.

“Joel, actually, there are some papers we have to go over,” Linda said as she began pulling some documents from beneath the clipboard’s hinge. Mr. Figginbottom cocked his head, a little perturbed the office manager’s politeness had sucked the vinegar out of the rant he was building up to.

“Wait, what tape?” Joel asked.

Mr. Figginbottom looked at Linda, who turned back to Joel and opened her mouth to speak before being cut off.

“Joel, there’s a security camera in the back of the building,” Mr. Figginbottom said as he leaned across the desk, face reddening as the position pulled his shirt taught and made the rolls of fat hang out over his collar more than usual. “We started getting complaints from the closer that someone was blowing mud behind the dumpster. We looked at the camera, and by God, if that wasn’t you, Joel.”

That much was true. Joel had always hated going to the bathroom at work. Or rather, he hated going to the bathroom in the bathroom at work. It was a single-stall, unisex bathroom the employees shared with customers. It was usually clean enough — Joel often had to take care of that himself — but it was a cacophonous tile room that sent reverberations of even the gentlest tinkle throughout the store. There was a smaller but better-insulated facility in the back room but that was reserved solely for Mr. Figginbottom, who had “the I.B. syndrome,” as he’d often say unburdened with the shame Joel carried for such talk. The way Joel saw it, he had no other choice but to go behind the dumpster.

“Son, are you even listening?” Mr. Figginbottom asked as he pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his plaid western shirt and wiped the beading sweat off his bald head.

Mr. Figginbottom leaned back in the chair again and swallowed hard, covering his mouth.

“I’m nauseous right now thinking about that video, you …”

“Fig,” Linda interrupted, “we talked about the paperwork for Joel? Remember the paperwork?”

The rest was a bit of a blur. Crying now for the second time in an hour, Joel nodded along as Linda told him about how he could sign up for COBRA Health Insurance and how he’d have 10 days to return all three of his work shirts, properly washed and pressed, please.

“And you’ve accrued 32 vacation hours that we’ll be paying you out for today along with the rest of your scheduled hours for this week,” Linda said as she handed him a check in exchange for the clipboard full of documents he’d been signing.

It was 9:25 a.m. Monday and Joel held $388 in his hands. The tears started to dry as he realized this was his seed money. Mr. Figginbottom had inadvertently become an angel investor.

Thirty minutes later, Joel was a new man. He paid his mother $300 for two months’ rent in advance and he was a free man for the next 60 days. Nothing could get in the way of his empire now.

First, though, Joel needed to get something off his chest. He pulled out his laptop and signed in to a Facebook account under the name Colby Stimpson, a chiseled man with perfect hair whose stock photos Joel stole for an account he used to stalk all the girls he knew a decade ago high school who wouldn’t accept a friend request from his real account.

“If I could give Fig’s Pools no stars, I would,” Joel typed into the review field as Colby Stimpson. “It is run by a fat and old man who loves having power over everyone for no reason other than he has the IB syndrome … aka DIHARREA! He also loves his employee Linda so much he has sex with her at work without his wife. I suggest you try a different pool company that cares for its customers because this is a no star place with an owner who could drop dead and anyone could care less!”

Joel slept as well as he had in months that night and awoke at 2 p.m. thanks to the blackout curtains he bought the afternoon before. It was an investment in himself, he thought as he watched his newfound nest egg dip to about $50.

He rolled over and picked up his phone to open /r/hentai but saw a stack of text message alerts on his lock screen, all from Roger at the pool store.

“Can’t believe it. So crazy!” the latest message read. “I guess it happened last night when he got home,” another read as the story unraveled in reverse as Joel scrolled to the top of the text chain.

“Figs is DEAD!” the first message said.

“LOL,” Joel replied, following up with a laughing emoji.

The next few days were a mix of emotions for Joel. He had intended to spend them building an empire of some kind — maybe an app company or a place that sold graphic novels and adult novelties, he thought — but instead found himself watching anime and wondering whether it was right to feel so vindicated by Mr. Figginbottom’s death. Confused by his own emotions, he left the house for the first time since being fired and walked the two blocks to the Stop-N-Shop.

He filled up the handbasket with a dozen Little Debbie snack cakes and as many Rockstar energy drinks before throwing a one-pound back of pretzels on top of it all.

“Forty-six eighty-eight,” the man at the counter said after scanning it all.

It seemed like a lot of money for groceries but it was enough to let Joel avoid leaving the house again for a least three or four days.

The card reader let out a flat honk. “Declined,” the man behind the counter said.

“Let me try it again,” Joel said.

HONK.

“Do you have another way to pay?” the man asked Joel.

“No, but there’s at least $50 in the account,” he said.

“It’s declined. Do you have cash?”

“No, but there’s money in there.”

“Then you’ll have to go to the bank to get your cash out,” the man said, pulling the handbasket across the counter to his side.

“If there was negative stars this place would get them all,” Colby Stimpson’s review read. “They won’t do business with their best shoppers and it means they will LOOSE THEM ALL! Bad customer service = never shopping there again because of the experience. Totally negligent and discrimination from the clarks with no respect. I wouldn’t give a rip if this place burned down tomorrow. Shop at a better place who cares about customers such as Murphy’s.”

Joel’s hunger strike didn’t last long. He woke up the next morning with an empty stomach and a headache so bad he winced. He needed sugar and caffeine. He put on his Crocs, pulled $5 in quarters from the old coffee tin his mother used to collect coins and started his trek to the Stop-N-Shop. He had barely turned the first corner when he saw the black smoke rising from the other side of the strip mall. He picked up his pace excited at the prospect of seeing something burning down and turned the last corner wheezing from the brisk walk to find a few beams and a row of gas pumps covered in ash where the Stop-N-Shop was a day earlier.

The fire must have started hours ago because only one fire truck remained and its sirens weren’t even on. How the sound didn’t wake him up just two blocks away was a mystery but the store caught fire sometime during the night and there was nothing but rubble left.

Joel was dismayed by his first thought. “I’ll have to walk another six blocks to the next store.”

His second thought put him in a better mood: “I did this.”

Joel spent the rest of the afternoon pacing his room taking mental note of everyone and every company that had ever wronged him, no matter how minor a slight.

“I wish there were zero stars instead of one star but it’s thanks to everyone gets a trophy in this society,” read Colby Stimpson’s screed on the Old Navy Facebook page. “The employees at this particular location are very judgemental and have no interest in finding what is the truth from lying customers. They have a changing room that is just a curtain and if you are man and are shopping there and have to try on clothes you can’t knock on a curtain. And when you open it and there’s a girl in there the employees at this location will say the cops are coming even though you followed all their own rules. I hope they all get laid off for being INCOMPETENT!”

Joel stayed up for hours on end posting in an almost fugue state. Long-forgotten memories came flooding back.

A Hormel Chili can that had some kind of root vegetable in it. “Can you say health codes? What is going on in that factory?”

A grocery store that was always out of his favorite pasta sauce. “Disappointing to say the least. This store needs to be shut down ASTAT!”

A Target whose manager once refused to let him return a package of briefs that were too small. “This store is a scam! How would you even know if they fit if you can’t try them on but then you can’t return them once you put them on? The BBB needs to investigate this illegitimate business.”

In the weeks that followed came a reign of terror. Inspectors shut down canneries for unsanitary conditions. Shopping malls closed, taking out all of their tenants at once. Stock prices dropped and stores were closed after bad earnings calls.

From his fingertips to God’s ears.

As time went on, Joel realized it was easier than he first realized. He hardly had to mention a slight or even why he was offering a one-star rating. Just posting an inane comment in the reviews was enough to cause some damage.

“This hammer looks weak and dumb. One star crap,” Colby Stimpson’s review read. A week later, a pallet of ball-peen hammers crushed a warehouse worker at an Amazon fulfillment center 1,200 miles away.

The allure of this new power kept Joel so occupied that he rarely left his room. He barely had time to eat between screeds and he had lost almost 20 pounds in a month. He had only seen his mother twice in that time, so he hadn’t noticed she, too, was quickly losing weight until she collapsed in the shower.

Joel’s fingers tapped on his knees, as much a nervous tick as a habit now as he sat next to his mother’s hospital bed. There were machines and tubes keeping her stable but the doctor warned him they were a temporary fix at best. Days, maybe hours, were all she had left.

Joel awoke the next morning to a nurse sitting next to him in the waiting room her a hand on his arm.

“Are you Mr. J. Porter? Annie’s son?” she asked as Joel sat up and nodded. “I’m sorry, sir, but your mother has passed.”

Joel spent the next two hours walking home to clear his mind and subconsciously avoiding his destination by taking the long way through a park. He sat at a picnic table for a moment and felt the tears cut chilly trails down his face in the crisp fall air. Phone in hand, he opened Facebook and searched for the hospital’s page.

“I wish I could surgically remove stars from the ratings because the doctors and employees here are MALIGNANT AND DISEASED and all their tools look more like they are from 1819 not 2019,” read Colby Stimpson’s review. “This place is so filthy I would not be surprised if they cause a new plague.”

submitted by /u/TheEggplantEconomist [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/3hDWt6n

[canaryatlaw]

okay, so today was alright. I had my alarm set for 8:45 for church, but when it went off I didn’t have any willpower, so I reset my alarm for 10:35 so I could go to the last service when I had to be in the nursery, which means I missed the actual church part, but oh well. Got up, ran out the door to make the bus, got the rest of the way there and go to the babies room. Since we moved back to three services we haven’t been getting many babies in the third service, so we’ve been combining the babies and walkers, so basically any child under 2. We ended up have 3 today with two leaders, so that was fine. one was the really adorable daughter of a lady I know from the babies team, and she’s getting so big and she’s just the cutest thing, like she would start laughing and I wanted to like, whip out my phone and record it because I knew the internet would love it 😂 (but of course I’d never do that without a parent’s permission). She’s about 18 months, as was our second baby, big little guy who had this perpetual perturbed look on his face haha so we had to make sure we were getting him occupied. Both of them would periodically go back to the gate in the front, which is generally what happens when they want to see their parents, but we were able to call them back each time and there were no tears, so that’s a win in my book. Our last baby was an actual baby, not like the other two who would be considered “walkers” at this point (because they can walk). She was 10 months old, gorgeous little thing, her mom and dad both dropped her off and her dad definitely looks biracial, and her mom looks like she could also be biracial, and the baby had a lot of those features as well, this isn’t terribly relevant haha she was just really adorable. For a while after she was dropped off she sat on my lap while she played with various little toys, then I got her to crawl around a bit and explore with the big kids (making sure they weren’t getting too rough with her). But yeah, it all went really well and there were no tears, so that’s good with me. At one point someone from the 2′s room came in asking if we had an extra diaper, and they had these new “childproof” locks on all the cabinets and well, they were quite complicated little contraptions lol, I did eventually manage to get them off, but did manage to scratch my hand a a pointy edge, and I’m just like shouldn’t childproof things not have sharp edges?? Granted, it was set up so that a child probably wouldn’t be able to get to that part, but still. So yeah. Since things were relatively calm and we got the tv connection to downstairs working I was able to listen to a good amount of the sermon, which was good. Our female pastor was speaking on grieving and the many forms it can kind of take on in our lives, and one of the things she was saying was grieving a season of our lives when we have to move on, and that kinda resonated with me because no matter what ends up happening, my life is gonna be changing somewhat drastically over the next few months, and I can’t shake this feeling I have that I’m going to get the New York job, and part of me has kind of been dreading that, because at this point I’m not really sure if I want to leave Chicago. But as fun as the last few months have been, if I get the job I know that’s going to be a sign that I need to move on from this. And I think that may be the best course of action anyway. Things have been mostly good, but I’ve had some emotional turbulence lately that reminded me of previous negative periods in my life, and that hadn’t happened in quite a while, and I just don’t know if I should stay in an environment where I’m at risk for that happening. I just don’t want to move back to New York and end up friendless and lonely, much like how I was for the first two years I lived in Chicago. But I’m leaving it up to God, if I get the New York job I am going to take it and move back there, trusting that this is what the plan he has for me. One thing the pastor said was “if you won’t move on from a past season, you’re going to miss all of the great things God has for you in the next one” or something along those lines and that really resonated with me. So yeah, that was good. Service ended, cleaned up the room and headed out, ride home was fine, just made the bus from the train by about 30 seconds, so that’s always a good feeling. When I got home I made some food and then dived into more secured transactions studying, I’m somewhere over 200 cards now and up to page 36 out of 47 so not bad at all. I worked on those until around 7, at which point I called it for the day. I was having a bit of a craving for vanilla pudding, but I didn’t want to put all the effort into making homemade when it would take forever to chill and set anyway, and I did have a packet of instant pudding mix, so I made that and well, it tasted quite artificial unfortunately. I tried to improve it by adding some crushed up oreos, which kinda helped, but also made the whole thing a caloric nightmare, so I need up abandoning that plan. Oh well. I went to watch episodes 4 and 5 of Krypton, during episode 4 I paused it to take a phone call from my parents. So I was telling my dad about the Title IX stuff (I have to tell my civil rights professor about it tomorrow, he’s gonna flip) because the girl contacted me today about how to file a complaint and she’s gonna do it, so I was pleased to do that. She did a bit of digging and found that the school was also violating something called the Clery Act which has to do with reporting crime statistics on campus, which was something they were not at all doing, so I hunted down how to file a complaint under that statute as well. I honestly have zero sympathy for the school at this point because they’ve had this a LONG time coming, we were dealing with Title IX bullshit way back in the beginning of my senior year in 2013, and I’ve heard many other stories of them just totally screwing people over, so the former student lawyer they created being the one to take them down sounds like perfect poetic justice to me. So of course my dad was pleased to hear that. If I ever do end up in private practice, or maybe just as a side thing, I would definitely consider doing some Title IX cases in practice, I’ve had some luck with it so far and it’s an area that desperately needs advocates for the students who tend to fall through the (numerous) cracks in the system. He was then telling me about the crazy case my brother was doing that involved this lady coming up to this guy and telling him that his wife was having an affair with her husband, and guy responds with well hey we should have an affair then and she was like um no??? and then he started stalking her and apparently came to the fucking SCHOOL where she works with a fucking rifle in his car, so he got arrested for that real fast, but then his wife, the one that was having an affair with this lady’s husband, bailed him out, but he violated the OP in like two days so he got arrested again and they bumped the bail up from $10K to $50K, so hopefully that will make him stay put for a while, though then again this is the Hamptons so who knows what will happen. I also told my brother there were some real nuts out there. My dad then was talking about his latest campaign regarding opiate addiction and how to potentially approach it from a legal area, because the first suits are only just being filed now, but it looks like the companies are gonna be HELLA liable for taking huge measures to straight up lie to the public that these drugs weren’t addictive when they very much new they were, so they’re gonna get screwed over there (as they should be). When I got off the phone I realized Brooklyn 99 was on, so I tuned into that and of course it was a fantastic episode, I loved Amy chasing down the guy in the wedding dress and using the sash as handcuffs 😂 that was too hilarious. After that I went back to Krypton, watched the rest of episode 4 and then episode 5, so I’m not officially caught up to what’s currently airing, though I still can’t wait it live because we don’t get syfy (ughh). But yeah, I’m digging it so far, it’s super interesting and I want to know more about their society and how it works. I absolutely love Lyta, she’s such a fucking badass who refuses to take anyone’s crap and basically I adore her. I like Adam Strange a lot too, this dork, he’s just fantastic. So yeah, I’m done with that so I guess I’ll go back to GoT when I have free tv time after watching my various currently airing stuff. It was like 9:45 when I finished Krypton, but I didn’t want to go to bed quite yet so I just turned on the news for a bit before starting to get ready for bed, and then I was here writing this. Tomorrow is my last day of class, ever, so that’s kind of exciting? I’m mostly excited to be done, lol. Can’t wait for this to just be over and be on the other side of finals, and only have to worry about the bar and not a bunch of other things. Sigh. So much to do. But I’m pretty tired now so I think I shall end this here. Goodnight lovelies. Have a positive Monday, even if your Mondays suck.

[the-madness-behind-mitch]

The Good Child

Let me tell you a story about a boy named Nick. From the day he was born, Nick was taught all of the “right things.” He was raised to be polite, work hard in the classroom, and above all else, worship God. Nick was like every other kid you see at school. He had his group of friends who all played a little league sport. He came to class almost every day, draped head to toe in Nike apparel, thinking he had already made it to the NFL or MLB because of the clothes he put on his back. On the weekends, you could spot Nick on the field, whether it be hitting home runs or tackling running backs, he was also the one grabbing everyone’s attention. On Sunday, Nick would wake up, bitching and moaning as he reluctantly put on khaki pants and a button up shirt. Nick never enjoyed going to church, seeing as he didn’t really understand what the point was in the first place. All he knew was that because he went to church, he was considered to be a better person because of it. He never questioned the reasoning for going to church; he just went so as to not disappoint his parents and “God.”

Let’s fast forward a bit now. Nick is a high schooler now. Instead of making the big tackles on Saturday mornings, he was doing it on Friday nights. Throughout the week, Nick would attend all of his classes, making sure he took extra notes and paid extra attention to lectures. Nick was a good student, a straight A student in fact, and he took pride in it. As you can see, not much of a change. Nick still did well in school, still turned heads on the Football field, and every Sunday was at church with his family. The void on Saturday’s that little league football had left was now filled with time to unwind with his friends. One night his friend Kyle did something that was unspeakable to Nick at the time. Kyle was the oldest out of Nick’s friend group and their graduating class, so he was able to get his license and a car well before any of his peers. It was business as usual on that Saturday night, the clock had just struck 7:30, which is the time Kyle always picks up Nick on Saturday’s. Nick shot Kyle a quick text

Nick: Hey bro you almost here?

Sent at 7:35

Read at 7:52

Kyle: Yeah my bad, running a little behind had to make a pit stop

A pit stop? That didn’t sound normal to Nick at all. In fact, the thought of doing anything displeasing to his family made his stomach quiver. Before he could curiously ask Kyle why he had made a pit stop, a loud horn blared in his driveway, startling him and causing his phone to drop. He went to pick up his phone and there was a noticeable crack smack dab in the middle of his phone.

“Fuckkkkk man fuck fuck fuck” said Nick under his breath. He sighed, grabbed his phone and scurried out the door, not wanting to deal with the repercussions.

Nick hopped into Kyle’s truck, just as he usually does around this time each week, only something was off. There was an eerie feeling that washed over Nick as he climbed in to the passenger’s seat. He glanced at Kyle who’d maintained a shit eating grin on his face from the second he got in his truck. The uneasy feeling that’d crept through Nick had reached a bubbling point, and he impulsively snarled at Kyle

“What’s up dude you’re acting weird tonight and I don’t like it”

Kyle, who was completely taken back by the statement, looked at Nick and said “Remember that thing that you and I said we’d never do?”

Confused, Nick stammered back “Uhh…I.. uhh.. no not really but you’re frea…”

Before Nick could finish his statement, Kyle was unveiling what he presumed to be Marijuana. Without a second thought, Nick firmly said “No”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? Weed? Don’t you know how bad that shit is for you? Only losers do that stuff Kyle and I honestly can’t believe you’d even think I would want to try it.”

“Look around Nick, your parents aren’t here. Come on, don’t you want to be a little rebellious? I talked to Tyler about it yesterday, he said he tried it less than a month ago and it wasn’t bad, actually said he enjoyed it.

Nick began to fall back on his statement but snapped out of it, emphasizing that he wouldn’t do it.

Kyle sighed, then said “I’ve never done this either. It’s both our first times, if we don’t like it we get rid of it. Deal?”

“Well..” said Nick reluctantly, “I guess.”

Nick’s reply was greeted with a fist bump from Kyle, who began to take the weed and put it inside of a glass piece. Nick watched as Kyle held the lighter in his hand. Kyle took an audible sigh of relief before flicking the lighter, pressing the mouthpiece to his lips and inhaling the smoke. Nick’s eyes bulged at what he was seeing. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Kyle took what seemed to be a 2 second inhale before violently coughing and letting out a huge cloud of thick smoke in his car. Nick couldn’t help but laugh at Kyle as he frantically scrounged around his truck in search of a half drank water bottle, all while simultaneously attempting to waft the smoke out of his truck. Nick, still laughing, was handed the glass piece.

“Don’t be a bitch” said Kyle whose look of agony and distress had been quickly replaced with a smirk and sardonic tone

Nick, shaking as his did so, gripped the teal blue lighter in his hand. He must have flicked it on and off about 30 times before finally using it to light the marijuana. It all came together in one fell swoop. He lit the pot, inhaled, and seconds later found himself coughing and gasping for fresh air. Much like Nick, Kyle couldn’t contain himself either, laughing so hard that he thought his cheeks were going to be permanently sore. The two sat there for the next 3 hours, taking puffs one at a time as they shared stories and jokes, laughing uncontrollably. The money Nick had been given for the night had been all used up on various munchies. Nick glanced at his phone for a time check. 11:46pm

“Fuck man I need to get back home, you mind?”

“Of course I got you” mumbled Kyle through the mouth full of chocolate ice cream he was eating

Kyle pulled into Nick’s driveway and parked his truck. The two dapped each other up and right as Nick was about to slam the door shut, Kyle said

“So do you want to do this next week?”

While Nick had had a good time tonight, he’d realized what he had done was frowned upon.

“Uhh it’s a maybe. But thanks for everything tonight man”

Kyle drove away and as Nick lie in bed, reminiscing on the sins he’d committed tonight, he had realized that he didn’t care. In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he had told Kyle it was a maybe. He really liked smoking pot. The biggest confrontation in his life was the inner battle of wits telling him to be a kid and enjoy his time, and the other side telling him that doing something like smoking pot will ruin his future and turn him into a delinquent. He fell asleep before deciding what the decision was.

A few weeks go by, and the routine remained the same. School Mon-Fri, smoke/drink on Saturday, church on Sunday. He had grown to enjoy his weekly routine, and in fact had begun to like weed so much that he started using his parents’ money to buy his own. He had just received his license and a new car, so that was where he was able to stash his paraphernalia. Nick realized that all that he was doing is considered detrimental to his future, and deep down he knew that one day he would quit smoking and prioritize the right things. School and church would eventually become work and church, so he found weed to be his vice. It wasn’t until one day after church where Nick’s world would come crashing down. Nick’s mom had noticed him texting during church and had asked him repeatedly to stop. Not listening, Nick kept pounding away at his keyboard, uninterested about the same nonsense he has heard since he was a kid. Perturbed by all of this, Nick’s mom snatched his phone from his hands, seeing as that was the only way possible to get him to listen. His mom stared at the iPhone she had just taken and noticed the large crack in his screen.

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Inquired Nick’s mom

“Uhhh I’m sorry I meant to tell you but..”

“Let’s discuss this when we get home” Said his mom in a hasty tone “You need this information”

Nick looked at his mom with a blank stare and allowed his body to sink back into the chair before begrudgingly going along with it

“Why does she want me to listen so bad? And why do I NEED this info when half of my friends don’t even go to church?”

Nick and his family arrived home and his mother asked for his phone again to see if there was any home remedies they could try before bringing it to an Apple store. Moments after he’s given his mom his phone, the familiar tone went off

“Ding!”

Nick’s heart stopped. His mother glanced at his phone to read the text. He wanted to slap the phone out of her hand but couldn’t. Nick’s mother skimmed the text through the crooked and distorted screen. You could see the expression in her face drastically change, as her whole body seemingly sunk into her chair. Before Nick could ask what she’d just read, she turned the phone and put it just inches from his face. The screen showed one notification.

1 unread text from Kyle

“Yoooo last night was something else. You were SO baked and it was hilarious lol that reminds me, you don’t have the rest of my pot do you? I can’t find it”\

What happened next was a culmination of multiple emotions from both parties. Nick’s mother was overwhelmed with sadness, disappointment and pure anger. Nick stood there dead silent. He’d been overtaken with fear and shame simultaneously. The jig was up, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Mom I’m sorry” repeated Nick, hoping that this entire issue would vanish.

As Nick eagerly awaited for his mom’s reply, he was shocked at what she had to say.

“This is why I wanted you to pay attention today.”

Completely confused by that statement, Nick’s entire expression changed

“Wha…What?”

“If you paid attention to church once in a while, you’d see why this is so harmful to you. All I cam do is sit back now and pray for God to look over you.”

At this point, Nick began to become annoyed with his mother. Not exactly sure why she wasn’t berating him. So instead of being submissive and going along with what she said like he has done almost his entire life, he challenged her

“Why can’t you just parent me? What does God have to do with me smoking some weed” said Nick in a tone that came out much more aggressive than he’d hoped

“Because Jesus died for our sins. And now we repay him each and every day by living life to his standards.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Where in the Bible does it say I can’t smoke weed?”

Nick’s mother began to raise her voice

“Nicholas, you will not raise your voice at me.”

That set him off

“Sorry Mom but I just did. Aren’t you tired of this routine? Living life through someone that we aren’t even sure exists? Does that not sound crazy to you?”

Nick’s mother began to sob, shouting aloud to herself

“My baby boy is a sinner. My baby boy is a sinner”

Nick, now in tears, yelled back “YOU CALL THIS LIFE? WHAT KIND OF A LIFE IS THIS?!”

He was so taken back by this entire ordeal that he had no option except to bolt out of the house, hop in his car, and peel away, bawling as he did so. A part of him was disappointed with himself for being stupid enough to get caught, while deep down another part of him realized he was also upset for hurting his parents. Nick drove all day, stopping only for lunch as well as his family’s bank, to which he requested to access their vault where they stored their most private amenities. Nick knew exactly why he was going to the bank in the first place, as he grabbed the item and left. Dusk eventually turned into night, and Nick found himself atop a large mountain, roughly 4 hours from where his house was. He sat there, deep in thought, pondering everything he has ever done.

“Man why do I even go to school in the first place”

“Fuck God too. How is he so damn important when people aren’t sure he has ever existed”

Nick’s mind raced a mile a minute. He lay on his car, staring off into the night sky, wondering what life would be like in 5 years. Tears streamed down his face as he considered what life would be like in the future. He hated everything. The way he was raised, the way his peers viewed similar issues, why did any of it matter? The feeling he once felt from wearing a helmet and playing the game he once loved had come and gone. In fact, everything he was once passionate about had seemed to fizzle out at one point or another. Nick began to clench his fists, unable to contain the vast array of emotions that had now overtaken him. Nick checked his broken phone for the time. 12:03am.

“Sheesh, I might need to get home” Nick said to no one in particular.

He had also noticed a large portion of missed calls and texts, mainly from his mom pleading with him to come home. Before Nick could ignore the text, a sudden wave of calmness washed over him. Without much thought, Nick sent his mom a text

“I love you Mom. You’ll see me soon”

Nick pressed send, shaking as he did so. He walked to the edge of the mountain he was on and looked down for a minute before receiving a text from his mom

“Nick… you are in so much trouble I don’t think you even understand. Do you think this is the plan God wants for you? You’re disregarding everything we’ve instilled in you at a young age. Get home NOW!!”

Nick read the text. Then read it again. He tossed his phone off the mountain and into the river below, watching it tumble the whole way until the lights finally went out. Nick walked back to his car and grabbed the remainder of his marijuana. He packed all he had left into a rolling paper and rolled a joint. For the next 15 minutes of his life, Nick was at total peace, a peace he had not felt ever in his life. As he took his last drag off the joint, he flicked it into the river below him and let out a large cloud of smoke, noticing the world’s beauty surrounding him as he did so.

“Well, this was fun” said Nick to himself as he grinned

He went over to his car to grab the item from the bank vault he had gotten. He reached inside its case and took it out. He stared at it in awe, admiring its luscious beauty. A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled bigger than he has before. Nick then put the muzzle to his head, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger. For the first time in a long time, Nick had found total peace.