#wow this got SO much longer than intended why does this always happen why can i not just shut up

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[enhypia]

SN ; always loving the sun

[4:21 PM]

okay so maybe the universe is not that bad

paring: kim sunoo x pisces gn!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

word count: roughly 960 words

this is a two-part timestamp and this is the second part

read part 1 here!

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

you didn't go after it. but that didn't stop your feelings from growing.

it's final, the universe really is out to get you. you want to be around sunoo so bad but everything hurts. why were romantic feelings ever a thing.

"you're sure we're okay right?" sunoo asked again his lips pouting.

"yes sunoo, i swear, nothing's wrong, i've just been feeling drained lately, i think it's because of the chaos at home" you assured. 'it's actually because my feelings for you are eating me alive but you don't need to know that.' you thought

"well do you want to hang out after school later then? so you won't have to endure the noise for a while" he invited, his eyes sparkling again.

and that's the sound of your heart cracking, it took so much to not actually clutch your heart.

"sure! where are we going?" you replied brightly. sunoo visibly relaxes after seeing you being you again.

he's noticed changes in your attitude and it's always with him so he couldn't help but feel like he did something wrong. he knew you were lying but he didn't want to push since it was clear you weren't ready to say the truth.

it does sting that you can't tell him, but he understands, there are some things he can't tell you as well. like his big massive crush on you

"the arcade? then the park after?" he suggested.

"i'm good with the that, i have pent up rage about the stars, i'll release them on the shooting games" you joked making finger guns.

sunoo rolled his eyes at your antics, and maybe if you just looked closer, you would've seen the fondness and adoration in his look.

"the stars won't appreciate that" he teased, you shrugged in reply

"yeah well i don't appreciate what they've been doing lately so i think we're even"

"i can't wait for the day the stars give you what you want so i wouldn't have to hear you complaining"

"that's the dream sun, that's the dream"

'i don't think they'll give me you sunoo' you thought

⸻

walking in comfortable silence along the quieter parts of the park with sunoo was one of your favorite things in the world, but right now the dumb loud pounding of your heart is making you re-think.

"wait let me take a picture of the sky" you heard sunoo say. you stopped in your tracks and watch him take pictures, you couldn't help it and took a picture of him taking a picture.

"wow this turned out well" you said after checking the photo, you showed it to him and he smiled widely.

"send it to me, i'll post it on my instagram" he said then he went back to scrolling through the photos he took.

you continued to stare at the photo you took of him, another crack. the sound resonating in your brain.

he was walking ahead of you, i should probably get used to this view if all goes bad. you can't take hearing your heart break any more than it already is.

"hey sun" you call out softly and walking up to him.

"sun, look at my horoscope for the week" you said turning your phone to sunoo so he can read it.

"it's not hard to love. in fact you always are loving the sun. qualities of perspective ask you to consider. but your mind is made up" you read out loud, voice coming out a little shakey.

sunoo stares at you with wide curious eyes and gives you a questioning look.

"nothing sun, it's just scarily accurate." you stated. "it's not hard to love, in fact you always are loving the sun" you confessed, looking straight at him.

1.. 2.. 3.. a blush forms on his cheeks, his wide smile isn't helping. he covers his face with his hands.

he lets out a tiny squeal when he takes a peek at you.

"what?" you asked chuckling at his reaction. you're trying very hard to keep you cool.

"my brain isn't processing anything right now. you can't just drop something like that so suddenly! give a guy a warning. my heart is beating so fast it's like bang! bang! bang! you better take me to the hospital if something happens to me. oh god it's still not calming down. yah~ take responsibility for this" he rambles while clutching his heart.

you burst out laughing, the weight on your shoulder getting lighter.

"i had this whole thing planned out to confess to you but no you had to go and do it first, now what do i do with that idea? this is all your fault" he complained pouting at you. but your mind went blank the moment you heard "confess to you"

"you were going to what?" you asked in disbelief. sunoo's blush got impossibly deeper upon realizing what he said, he turned and speed walked away from you.

"yah! kim sunoo get back here!" you exclaimed chasing after him.

"no! go away!"

"kim sunoo if you like me stop right now!" you cry.

sunoo stopped. kim sunoo stopped.

you couldn't help the tears falling from your eyes. sunoo turned at the sound of your sniffling and he was right in front of you immediately.

"why? why? why?" he panicked trying to wipe your tears. you laughed at him, at yourself, at the universe.

"i'm just so happy, i didn't think it'd end this way" you answered.

sunoo rarely initiates skinship, but here he was engulfing you in a hug. the cracks in your heart were healing itself.

"are the stars on your side now?" he asked after releasing you from his hold.

"i think they always were, i just refused to listen"

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

prev.

masterlist ⸺ enhypen masterlist

a/n: this was longer than i intended it to be but im happy with the result, i got this idea when i saw the tweet for pisces about loving the sun, i instantly thought of sunoo, then the previous horoscope matches that's why i decided to cut it into two parts. i enjoyed writing this and i hope you guys like it as well <33

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

[le0watch]

langa grimaces as he steps out of his carriage, shoes chuffing against the pavement ground. the sounds of downtown london fills his ears, ranging from the chitchat of workers and civilians to the clomping of horse's hooves on the streets. it's raining today- of course it has to be raining. why wouldn't it be on his already least favorite day of the week?

his servant steadily holds an umbrella over his and his mother's heads to keep the raindrops from drenching them. he, of course, isnt saved from getting wet, but this is his job. langa will just make sure to pay him extra for his work this month, and make sure that he doesn't catch a cold from the cool breezes brushing by.

today, he and his mother are visiting the busy streets of london per her request. since langa's father died and the large erikson heritage was passed down to langa, shes been asking him for numerous favors, including this weekly walk through the busy, muggy streets of london.

now, langa doesn't hate the people or the peasants or whatever you want to call them. he's just not a fan of the constant rain and loud chatter of said people around him. they're all incredibly loud and irritating, and sometimes he'd like them to be quiet while he and his mother are there. but that's not the point of their trips. his mother came from poverty before langa's father had found her and fallen for her, before he'd proposed to her. moving from japan to england during this time had given his mother a horrible disadvantage against any of the nobility or even white people of the lower classes.

but his father had been infatuated with her, and she became infatuated by him. they married for love, a rare occurence these days. then, they'd had him, and he loved his large home and the days he spent with his mother in the garden or the days he went with his father to the various horse stables they owned.

he can't visit the stables with his father anymore, however. because his father died a year ago, leaving their large fortune on the shoulders of langa, barely old enough to chose what happens with that wealth.

he insists in private that his mother make mistakes of the financial decisions, since he's still in the process of learning his family's buisness. she agreed to do it, in exchange for trips to the busy streets of london, where they could make donations to small charities or poor families that need the help.

honestly, it's a win win situation for langa. he doesn't have to fully handle the responsibilities of his family's fortune, and he has always wanted to help the poor, like his father. because when his father was living, he would hold monthly giveaways of some of their stables' foals to the poorest of the city.

other families of nobility often turned their noses up at what langa's father did for the poor, not that his father ever cared.

that's what probably got him killed.

"where shall we visit first, mother?" langa asks, holding his arm out for her take. she loops her arm through his, smiling up at him for his manners.

"i was thinking the orphanage down the road," she replies as they begin to walk. their servant- kaoru, langa's favorite servant and teacher- follows close behind to keep the umbrella over their heads the entire time. he wants to tell kaoru that he could cover himself with his own umbrella, but he already knows that he would be denied. kaoru has always been very serious about his job.

"as you wish," he says with a small smile.

their visit to the orphanage is longer than they'd originally intended. the owner of the orphanage needed help moving some heavier objects and boxes, and so langa had stepped in. she was instantly grateful to him, and only became moreso when he handed her a large wad of cash.

"thank you so much, mister erikson," she said, bowing low to him. his mother was in the background, entertaining the children. "are you sure there's no way we can repay you?"

"you can by taking care of the sick children here," langa replied, and she nodded eagerly.

they'd left soon afterwards, kaoru waiting outside for them. his long, pink hair is pulled back in a ponytail today, and he's wearing his favorite kamino. he was also born in japan, like his mother, and had been a friend of hers before she'd moved here. he moved not long after her, and she hired him as their servant and langa's tutor. he's been around for as long as langa could remember.

suddenly, there's a flash of red ahead of them, and a kid- not of the orphanage- rams into his side, knocking them both over in the process. langa hits the muddy ground with a grunt, before the kid is apologizing profusely, bowing his head continuously. he's in scrappy clothes, and is soaked to the bone.

"it's fine," langa tells him, and the kid relaxes. "don't worry about it." he wipes the mud from his shirt as kaoru helps him stand, and his mother hurries over to look him over. they're all soaked at this point.

"sorry again!" the kid exclaims, before running off.

with langa's donation wallet in hand.

normally, langa wouldnt bat an eye at stolen money. his family's wealth is nearly endless. but that's the money he's using for his trip with his mom today- and he doesn't have anything extra. he doesn't want to cut this trip short- his mom loves it too much.

he takes off after the kid without much thought, ignoring the calls from his mother and servant. the kid lets out a loud laugh once he notices he's being chased, before two more kids that look identical to him fall in step behind him. langa's eyes widen- they have this thought out.

they end up running through twisting alleyways, and langa is hardly keeping up. every time he gets close, they duck away or slide around another corner, throwing him off. he grits his teeth together, lungs beginning to burn from the exertion.

the kids run across a crowded street, easily weaving through its crowded traffick. langa skids you a stop just before crossing, before giving chase once more. he reaches a hand out, about to grab one of the buggers- when they suddenly leap at a building's front, scaling its side like a ladder. he stops in his tracks, gaping as they reach the roof, pointing at his with laughter.

he's so busy gaping, he doesn't even notice he's still standing in the middle of busy traffick until a coachman is shouting at him to move, with the horses screeching with terror. his heart stops beating- oh god, he's about to die like his father had, leaving his mom all alone. he already knows he won't be able to move in time.

but then something- or rather, someone- crashes into his back, knocking him to safer ground instantly. the horses and carriage roar past where he'd just been, and he pants on the ground, the person who'd saved his life still over him.

"wow- you nearly died," the person- man- above him says between pants, finally peeling away from him. langa pushes up with shaking arms, bruises and scrapes burning at his skin. geez, kaoru is going to kill him- he ripped his pants. he then looks up at his savior, and all thoughts leave his mind.

the most gorgeous man he's ever seen sits in front of him, soaked curly hair still a brilliant shade of bright red, poking out from the under side of a grey ball cap. his eyes are a beautiful honey amber, shining with mischief and a kind soul. his tan skin is peppered with freckles, along the cheeks on his face and his shoulders and forearms. he has a crooked grin as bright as the sun- making langa almost believe that it had stopped raining and the clouds had opened up. he's wearing a thin and torn short sleeved shirt, a pair of suspenders over his shoulders keeping his pair of black pants up.

lord have mercy on langa's soul. he's already fallen for the stranger that had saved his life. it didn't even matter that he was a man. langa could feel his heart thudding in his chest, and heat gathering in his cheeks. he can't even respond. luckily, the man- around his age- does it for him.

"lucky i was there to save your ass, huh?" he says with a bright chuckle. he has the same accent as his mother's and kaoru's, with a similar facial structure to both. he must be from japan too, then. langa opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and the redhead's grin only widens. he reaches a hand out, wiping a splotch of mud from langa's paper white cheek. the heat in langa's cheeks worsens. the redhead then looks up at the roof where the kids are still perched at, watching with wide eyes. "they took something of yours, huh?"

"y- yeah," langa replies shakily, wanting to hit himself for sounding so pathetically like a schoolgirl with a crush. the guy doesnt seem to take notice- either that, or he doesn't point it out.

"right. be right back," the redhead says, before slipping past langa and leaping onto the side of the building. the kids at the top screech with surprise, before disappearing just as the redhead reaches the top, leaping over while calling, "tom, rick, toby- get your asses back here!"

horrifyingly, the kids leap from one rooftop to the next, somehow not slipping and falling off the edge. and even more horrifyingly, the redhead follows with amazing grace, landing perfectly, grabbing to of the kid's by their shoudlers. the third stops, dropping his head like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"right. which of you have it," the redhead asks, loud enough for langa to hear. langa is surprised by the strength the redhead has- he's able to lift two children clear off the ground without much effort. his arms aren't shaking or wavering at all! the kids don't answer, pouting. "don't make me talk to your mum about this-"

"toby has it!" two of the kids cry out at the same time, and the third glares at them both with betrayal.

the redhead sets the two kids he's holding back down, and holds his hand out expectantly. the kid- toby- pouts some more before relunctantly dropping langa's wallet into the redhead's hand.

"thank you very much," the redhead says, pocketing langa's wallet. he points at each kid individually. "i catch you three stealing from nice men like him again, and i'll stop bringing home candy for you after work."

"no!" all three kids cry at once. the redhead tuts.

"right. don't do it again," he says firmly, before shooing the triplets away.

the redhead then slides down the side of the building, hit the wet ground with a splash. langa watches with disbelief as he casually saunters over, handing him his wallet back once he's reached him.

"sorry about them," the redhead says. "they live with just their mother, so they take to stealing to help her out occasionally. they shouldn't bug you again." he chuckles. "but if you ever need eyes and ears around london- hire those three. they're amazing at snooping."

langa clears his throat, forcing himself to stop staring at the redhead's pretty face as if he was in a trance. he slides his wallet into his suit pocket yo make sure it's not stolen again.

"thank you," he says, gratefully bowing his head. "i appreciate your help- what was your name?"

"reki kyan," the redhead replies with pride. "i work on the train tracks and take care of the kids around these parts best i can."

"well, mister kyan, you're amazing," langa tells him, surprising himself with his boldness. reki's eyes widen, and his eyes dart away quickly. langa then holds a hand out to him, the other behind his back. "my name is langa erikson. it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

reki chuckles awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head. "pleasure's all mine," he replied, and shakes langa's offered hand. "you can call me reki, by the way."

"then you may call me langa, reki," he responds graciously. reki averts his eyes again as they release each other's hands. "is there some way i can repay you?"

"don't worry about it!" reki says quickly, throwing his hands up. oh, he's wearing a pair of thick, black gloves, langa has just realized. and his biceps are absolutely huge with muscles- probably from working on tracks all day. "just don't get those boys in trouble. they mean well for their mum."

"wouldnt even dream of getting them in trouble," langa replies lightly. then he frowns. he doesn't want to go home and never see this sunny man ever again. he's a delight to look at- ruby red hair and honey amber eyes with a sunshine smile. it would be a shame to never seen him again. "though, i must insist on repaying you." he has a brilliant idea of doing just that, too.

reki shakes his head again, desperatly. "no, really, there's no need-"

"why don't you come and stay at my home, so that i may repay you with dinner?" langa says smoothly, once more surprising himself with his boldness. he's basically asking this man to live with him and have multiple dates with him. hopefully, the redhead doesn't realize that, yet, since gay relationships are frowned upon. but perhaps- later on. "you may stay in one of my rooms, take off from your job, and have warm and fresh meals everyday."

reki's eyes widen significantly, his jaws snapping shut. oh no, maybe langa was laying too much on him at once. "i- uh-"

"please, it would mean the world to me in repaying you this way," langa says, to further convince him. "and it would be a small exchange to you after saving my life."

the redhead scratches at the back of his head again, and langa can't help but stare at the way his bicep moves to complete the action. lord have mercy, reki was good looking. he's always tried to repress his gay feelings and desires, but this ripped train track worker with burning red hair is destroying all of his effort in one foul swoop.

finally, reki lets out a heavy sigh of defeat, lowering both of his arms. "you won't be happy unless i accept?" he asks, and when langa nods eagerly, he lets out another sigh, shutting his eyes. "okay, i will. i'll try not to be too much of an issue while i stay-"

langa cuts him off by catching one of his gloved hands in his, holding it up between them. he offers the redhead a small smile, excitement rolling in his gut. "you could be no trouble at all," langa insists, and reki draws back a little, and is that a tin of red coloring his freckled cheeks. langa sure hopes it is.

and that's how langa takes home a gorgeous redhead, who had in fact, saved his life.

[lizbotw]

hi!! can I ask for some shouto headcanons with a s/o who has frequent nightmares? ty! ily

Todoroki With a S/O That Has Frequent Nightmares

hi! wow, i really loved this request and enjoyed writing it! once again, it's a bit on the longer side and more scenario-like than just plain headcanons, so i hope you like it! tysm, ilyt!!! ♡

Todoroki Shouto

Everyone knows school is just plain hard and going to the top hero school in the nation meant things were… less than easy for you and your classmates.

All-nighters were common, especially now that everyone was living in the dorms together and were up to antics at all hours of the night, even despite the scolding of Iida (Aizawa admitted he couldn't care less what the class did as long as they kept it down and didn't cause too much trouble—just don’t interrupt his sleep and everything is all good).

It’s not like it was unusual for someone to complain offhandedly about being tired one day, or for your classmates to be spotted with eye bags, so no one ever thought to point out the sleepy look you seem to sport regularly from being kept up all night.

Everyone was basically kept up later than intended one way or another, whether it be finishing an assignment last minute or staying up to finish a movie, so they sympathized with your plight, assuming that it was similar to their own—but what they didn’t know was that the reason you were up was much different than any of their reasons.

While they slept peacefully only a few floors away from you, or sometimes even a few doors down the hallway, you were plagued by dark images, the type that twisted around in your mind, growing in ferocity and coiling around your heart with sticky, inky blackness so tightly that you felt as though you couldn’t breathe—any attempts against them that you took seemed futile and you always woke up gasping for air, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead as your chest heaved, heavy with emotion.

You'd gotten used to hiding it, having been dealing with them for quite a while now, and while you eventually learned to brush them off due to their frequency, in the dead of the night, whenever they struck you, you felt as powerless and hopeless as the very first time they arrived.

It was only in the light of day that you were able to be reasonable with yourself and in which the fears lost most of their power (they were never completely gone though, the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind and causing you to mull over them whenever there was a dull moment in class and your attention started to drift).

Perhaps it's because you had these nightmares that you made the most of the energy you had during the day, fighting in your own way in the light to prove that you were still powerful, even if you were stripped of that power every night.

You'd adapted to running on only a few hours of sleep and tried to take short naps throughout the day to make up for lost time (although it was still hard after particularly difficult nights where you got almost zero relief from the terrifying images), so by the time life in U.A. came about, you were able to tough it out and focus on your training.

Speaking of training, you were vicious in class battles, taking many by surprise and were able to render several of your weaker classmates immobile in capture exercises and swept them off of their feet relatively quickly in one on one fights, including a certain “IcyHot” boy (although the way in which you swept him off his feet was much different—it was hard to beat him in normal fights anyway, but when it came to matters of the heart he was forced to surrender).

Your pure power may have caught his attention at first, but it wasn’t until Shouto spoke to you more and your personality came out that he was truly faced with the fact that he was falling for you hard.

A series of mishaps and a fair share of intervention from the rest of Class 1-A later and you two were miraculously dating and even could finally rest easy—they definitely had their work cut out when it came to getting you two together, but they ultimately bit the bullet because they could not stand the mutual pining and hopeless romanticism that continuously went on between you two.

It may take a while for Shouto to realize that spending the night at each other's dorms is a romantic™ thing couples do and that he should offer that up. That would be a great alternative actually versus the current are arrangement of that whenever you come over to study during the afternoons with him (which quickly turns into night because wow, time sure flies when you're being tortured by textbooks), and once it gets late enough, he comments about what time it is and how both of you should start getting ready for bed—effectively forcing you to leave his dorm. Don't blame him—the thought just never crossed his mind.

It was actually Mina, wanting to pry in on all U.A. relationships and resident sucker for romance, that probably brought the idea to his attention.

Something about asking how you two spent time together turned interrogation when she realized he could be clueless about certain things and made it her personal mission to school him on all things romance.

And then came the question, “So, have you guys had a couple’s sleepover yet?”

“A what?”

“Mina, please stop, just leave the poor guy alone,” came Jirou’s chiding from somewhere in the background. Mina had dragged her along with her for unknown reasons, but Jirou had made it very clear that she did not want to be there, slowly distancing herself from the conversation and discreetly trying to slip away.

While Mina took up arguing with Jirou about the “necessity” of these questions and Jirou facepalming and asking Mina why she didn’t just bring Hagakure (second in command on all things romance) with her, Shouto took the chance to mull over Mina’s words.

“And what does this... ‘couple’s sleepover’ entail exactly?” he interrupted their bickering after a few moments of contemplation and being unable to come up with an answer himself.

Mina absolutely lit up at that and turned to him once again, scuffle with Jirou long forgotten. “I am so glad you asked! Well, first of all-”

“She just means spending the night at each other’s dorms,” Jirou interrupted before Mina could go off on another tangent. Shouto turned to look at Jirou now and found her boredly examining her nails before then switching to nervously clinking the ends of her earphones jacks together when she noticed he was watching her.

“Then why-”

Jirou interrupted him this time. “Why did she call it a ‘couple’s sleepover?’ I don’t know, why don’t you ask Mina herself?”

It only took her a fraction of a second to realize her mistake when Mina opened her mouth to unleash the lengthy explanation she had prepared and Jirou immediately cut her off again before the damage could be done.

“Actually, never mind, don’t ask her. I don’t think I have to explain the sleepover part. Just spend the night doing fun things, like playing games or watching a movie or something, I don’t know. Typical sleepover things. And the couple’s part is because… well, you’re dating aren’t you? Bam, a couple.” She did unenthusiastic jazz hands at that. “Hmm… and I guess that means the sleepover activities will be more romantic than a typical sleepover too.” She scrunched her nose at the idea, not even wanting to imagine what that sort of description would entail.

Mina was getting antsy next to her, desperate to jump into the conversation with her own input and Jirou finally seemed to notice it. “Looks like Mina wants to go-” (“What? No, I don’t-”) “So see you later, Todoroki.” She grabbed Mina’s arm with one hand and gave Shouto a small wave goodbye with her free hand—one that he returned—as she pulled Mina away. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about it,” she said over her shoulder, “It’s literally just spending some time together and you do that already, right? The only difference is that this time it’ll be overnight, so just act natural. It’s not some big fancy event despite what Mina’s name for it might suggest.” And with that the two were gone, disappearing down the hallway in a fit of distant, mumbled bickering about how Mina is no longer allowed to give unsolicited love advice and how Jirou needs to learn the ways of love to truly understand, leaving Shouto all alone with his thoughts, trying to decipher what the fuck just happened.

Truthfully, he was always sad to see you go after a day of hanging out, wishing he could spend more time with you. For some reason he thought that as soon as night came, you deserved to head back to your own dorm for a proper night’s rest. He was just being concerned for your well being, isn’t that what proper boyfriends did? He considered the idea once of what if you spent the night together?, and despite that literally addressing all of his issues from before, he still brushed off the idea because it was preposterous. Shouto, where are your thinking skills???

After a while of back and forth with himself over the wisdom Mina and Jirou had bestowed upon him, he made the decision that next time things would be different.

Another late night study session had you packing up your things once you noticed the blinking alarm clock on Shouto's desk had stuck 11 P.M., the process routine at this point and you no longer waiting for your boyfriend to end the study session himself.

You rose and starting gathering the papers sprawled across his floor into a neat stack in your arms, absentmindedly talking about the things you had to do tomorrow as you went—it was like you were just inputting some closing remarks before calling it a night and Shouto fell easily into the conversation as he slipped stray pens and highlighters back into his pencil case.

You two usually cleaned up amongst the quiet hum of your words—discussing how you felt about the upcoming test, subjects either of you needed more help on next time, and what you were looking forward to eating for breakfast in the morning—but this night had Shouto's eyes straying away from the mess at his feet to you. Your back was to him most of the time, but even when you were facing him as you gathered up your books, your attention was focused on said objects, rather than him.

You guys didn't look at each other much as you cleaned, he realized—it was an obvious observation, but he still had the thought as he watched you, taking note of how this was just the perfect chance to admire you.

When you turned to him at one point though, gaze piercing, he quickly averted his eyes, shifting them to a highlighter that lay in front of him in your general direction, reaching to pick up. He ran his thumb over the smooth, bright yellow cylinder of it as you walked over to him, crouched down, hands planted on his shoulders, and leaned in to brush your lips against his. His eyes fluttered close and he leaned into the kiss, pushing back against you. He moved to deepen it, about to grip onto the fabric of your shirt for leverage, the highlighter rolling out of his grip, but the kiss was over in a matter of seconds and he opened his eyes, finding your smiling face right in front of him. You gave him a brief kiss on his cheek, as though to sign it off, and he had to admit that the heat of your face against his felt nice.

“Night, babe,” you said as you got up and turned to walk over to your bag that lay by the door.

“Night…” Right, that was just one of your normal goodnight kisses. That was also part of the routine but… something about the idea that that was the last kiss of the night didn’t sit right with him.

Shouto studied you once more, tongue in cheek, as he watched you stuff the papers and books you had gathered up back into your bag. The contemplative look never left his eye—it seemed as though you hadn’t noticed his staring from earlier so he was a bit more bold and confident about doing it now—and he almost lost himself to a trance of watching your methodical movements of picking something up from the pile of books you had lain at your feet and slipping them into the bag one by one.

When you slung the bag over your shoulder and moved towards the door, turning back to give him a final wave goodbye, he stiffened, remembering his plan.

“Wait-” He scrambled to his feet as you watched him in confusion, hand already on the doorknob. “Um… do you want to stay the night?” He flinched internally at the unsureness in his voice and straightened up, crossing his arms to create some semblance of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you want to. We don’t have to keep studying. I have a… movie? If you want to watch that together?”

Shouto’s eyes carefully tracked your movements, trying to gauge your reaction.

You tilted your head in bewilderment at the sudden offer, but then you grinned brightly and dropped your bag back at your feet, it landing on the ground with a thud from all of the heavy books inside. “Okay,” you beamed and Shouto was sure he was about to faint.

He followed Jirou’s advice to a T, or at least he tried to. He meant to ask if you wanted to play Monopoly but Kaminari had stolen it from the dorm’s game closet and refused to hand it over because his plans for the night included kicking Sero’s, Kirishima’s, and Bakugou’s asses at the game (Mina was there to be the unbiased banker because the boys were so sure that one of them kept stealing money out of the bank whenever no one was looking and Jirou was just there to bask in the chaos that was sure to ensure—when Mina and Jirou caught sight of Shouto, they both gave him a knowing look).

The loss of the Monopoly board meant you two instead played with the dingy Uno card deck Shouto found buried in his school supply drawer (he was pretty sure it was Midoriya’s and in his mind sent him a silent thank you—as for if he was going to give the desk back or continue “borrowing” it… well, that depended on how much you enjoyed playing with him).

You won three times in a row, but also Shouto seemed to keep getting distracted by something (spoiler alert: it was your smile) and you realized he wasn’t even playing his best cards most of the time so you easily crushed him. You clapped your hands in celebration at every victory and Shouto noticeably increased his speed while shuffling the deck whenever you did that (oh yeah, he was definitely keeping these, sorry, Deku).

You two eventually got around to watching the movie he had brought up before on his laptop, you slotted comfortably under his arm while it hung around your shoulder, and even had a late night snack run per your request (snack run = sneaking into the kitchen and stealing the plate of hot pockets Kaminari was making to supplement his game night—better yet, you made Shouto do the stealing with him timing his crime perfectly and waiting for Kaminari’s back to be turned.)

(You supervised the whole thing by peeking around a hidden corner, barely containing your laughter, and then jumped in to distract Kaminari right when he was about to turn around before quickly taking your leave once Shouto was out of sight. Kaminari’s screams once he realized what had happened could be heard down the hallway as you two rushed back to the elevator, stolen goods secured and you laughing freely.)

(You’re pretty sure you heard Shouto mumble, “How’s that for Monopoly, you electric bitch,” and while you’re honestly not sure what he’s talking about, you support his energy nonetheless.)

Soon it was time to actually sleep and you two were curled up under his blanket, limbs tangled together. You had taken brief naps together before so this wasn’t exactly anything new (even though it was, judging by what a big deal everyone had made of it, including you two), but you found yourself appreciating once again how Shouto was the perfect person to sleep against—he regulated his body temperature exactly how you liked it and you found yourself nodding off to sleep easily in between the quiet whispers about nonsensical late night topics between you two.

The brief concern about your nightmares had completely slipped your mind at this point—you found that short naps meant that they didn’t have much time to strike and since said naps were what you were used to with him, you forgot that this was a full night ordeal. When he had first proposed the idea of a sleepover, you had thought it would be good to have someone else there to comfort you, but then felt guilty about being selfish and wondered if your reaction to the nightmares would scare him off—although you eventually pushed those thoughts to the side because no way would you turn down spending some quality time with your boyfriend, and the night of fun had led to never returning to mull over that internal conflict.

You two fell asleep at some point without even realizing it, peaceful in each other's arms—that is, until a few hours later when disaster struck because of course something just had to ruin your perfect night.

Shouto blearily blinked his eyes open, confused at the sound that reached his ears and brain slow to comprehend what exactly was going on. It took him a moment to suck in a breath to clear his mind and decipher the situation, shifting in place—that is, until his arm brushed against yours and he stilled, mind suddenly clear as it recalled the events of the last hour he had been awake. You were spending the night with him.

Carefully, he sat up, head pounding a little. He brought up a hand to rest on top of his head, fingers curling around his hair and massaging away the beginnings of a headache. And then he heard it again—the sound that had woken him up. A quiet whimper maybe?

He was back to being confused, except now his eyes were darting around the room suspiciously, ready to go on the defensive, especially because you were next to him. U.A. had a proper security system, didn't it? He shouldn't be worried. Although, then again, his mind kept returning to those thoughts of uncertainty and how villains had been able to endanger his classmates time and time again recently.

The shuffling of blankets and a sharp intake of breath had him refocused within a second and he looked down at you. Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, he could make out your face against the backdrop of his pillow, your features twisted into a troubled expression, teeth pulling on your bottom lip. Your hands gripped the blanket in a tight fist, your arms shaking a little.

You continued squirming under the blanket until you eventually kicked most of it off of you, almost as if there was someone there that you meant to hit. Your mouth curled into a silent scream, ragged breaths coming out in huffs as your chest rapidly rose and fell. He could tell you were mumbling now, voice low enough that he couldn't exactly make out what was being said—the syllables coming out in quick bursts and half formed as your focus seemed to jump from topic to topic, each of them bringing you increasing distress.

Shouto had been watching you in horrid fascination, unable to take his eyes off of you as much as his mind screamed at his body to just fucking move, but when a sliver of moonlight coming in from his window—peeking out from behind a gap in the drapes he hadn’t pulled together close enough—caught the glint of tears brimming your eyes, he was quick to react, gripping your upper arm and, as gently as he could while still being firm, shook you. "(Y/N)!" he hissed, not wanting to startle you, "Wake up, please. What's wrong?"

It took a few tries—him wanting to snap you back to consciousness right away, but also afraid of hurting you or making things worse—but before a minute had passed you were coming back to reality, forcing your eyes open as you realized the images plaguing you hadn't been real. You sat up quickly, almost bumping your head against Shouto's (not that you even noticed he was there), your breaths coming hard and fast.

You completely forgot where you were for a moment, just focusing on calming down, and it wasn't until Shouto managed a quiet, "(Y/N)?," concern clearly lacing his voice, that you whipped your head around to face him.

And then your eyes slowly traveled around the rest of the room, recalling where you were. If he hadn't been there, the unfamiliar environment probably would have made you feel alarmed when you came to and make you start wondering if you were stuck in another nightmare again.

You heard Shouto clear his throat as he looked at you curiously, and your eyes snapped back to him. Just the sight of him had your eyes watering and before you knew it, you had flung yourself into his chest, fingers finding purchase in the loose fabric of his shirt.

He easily managed to steady you two from the momentum of you crashing into him and wrapped his strong arms around you, squeezing you to him as you sobbed into his chest.

It would take a little while for him to calm you down and although he was incredibly concerned, he made sure to be the rock you needed and let you take all the time in the world to stabilize yourself.

You would probably be a little embarrassed to tell him about your dream, especially now that you were more lucid, and may even start apologizing for your behavior earlier until he cuts you off because you had every right to react as you did.

After a bit of coaxing, along with you realizing you felt comfortable around him and that you shouldn't worry about him judging you for something as trivial as this, you opened up and told Shouto about your frequent nightmares. He would play with your hands as you talked to let you know it was okay and a silent kiss—soft lips against yours—would confirm that he loved you no matter what.

Shouto wouldn’t mind staying up late into the early hours of the morning with you if you wanted to talk about what you had experienced and may even suggest that you two sneak down to the dorm kitchen and get something to eat and drink (now that was fun—teasing him by pretending to be on a spy mission and forcing him to glance around all of the corners with you, as though you were suspicious about someone catching you? absolutely gold).

Just laying together and talking because you didn’t want to go to sleep would be fine with him, even if you insisted that he should get some rest. He didn’t want you to feel bad about the situation or think that you were a burden, so he did his best to take your mind off of it.

If you wanted to stay up longer, you might watch another movie or even play a few more rounds of Uno (Kaminari, the bastard, still had Monopoly locked in his room for some reason and hadn’t returned it to the game closet—now not to say that Shouto considered leaving an anonymous tip to Iida about the blonde breaking the unwritten rules of the dorm by not returning the game as soon as he was done with it but… yeah, he definitely considered it).

Expect sleepovers to become a lot more common between you two from then on, especially after you admitted that having Shouto there made things a lot more bearable. Whether it be in your dorm or his, both of you were always open to falling asleep in each other's arms whenever the other person asked.

At your next late night hang out session, you two even played Monopoly!

(Shouto had frozen Kaminari’s feet to the ground when he saw him running towards the game closet to snag the game again, and then calmly walked off with his prize after plucking it from the shelf while Kamianri wailed in distress and tried to unstick his feet and pull them free. Shouto couldn’t help but crack a small grin to himself in victory as he walked away.)

Per your request, you two invited some of the other students to play Monopoly because it was always fun with more people (for some reason, Shouto expressly stated that Kaminari was not to be invited and while you were confused, you just shrugged and agreed, even when you heard him say something about forcing the blonde go through “Monopoly withdrawal” as a punishment—you decided not to question him on that point), and a few of those who didn’t want to play just came to watch as well.

(Midoriya was one of those who came to play and while he was glancing around the room, his eyes landed on Shouto’s desk and he squinted in confusion, scrutinizing the little deck he saw tucked in the corner.)

(“Hey, Todoroki, are those my Uno car-”)

(“Nope. Oh look, you just landed on Boardwalk and Uraraka has a hotel there. You only have $200, right?”)

(“Wha- oh, fu-”)

Shouto had to deal with his fair share of nightmares as a child and if you ever want to talk about what the latest disturbing image that had haunted you was, he’ll always be available. In turn, he feels ready to open up about his own fears to you, all while soothing away yours. Talking with him feels natural, just like anything else involving him, and not keeping everything bottled up has definitely helped you more, causing your performance both in class and out in the battlefield to improve.

Your chest definitely feels a lot lighter these days and your dark circles seem to be fading. You probably owe those to your wonderful boyfriend turned portable heater (what? he’s perfect for when you want to take naps and now that he knows about your nightmares during the night, you no longer have to explain to him why you like to sleep so frequently during the day).

Shouto is nothing short of supportive and if there’s anything you ever need to ease the nightmares and lull you off to sleep—whether it be him buying you a diffuser you saw online, getting you a custom sleeping mask, or just you needing him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and pepper kisses along your temple to help you fall back asleep after being jolted awake again—he’s always there to provide it.

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Part 5

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Not Giving In (Almost)

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 7,508 (thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: Y/N gets her car back, bringing stability back to her routine. As Friday night rolls around, Dean’s plans with Lisa get derailed as she goes out with her friends. Dean asks Y/N over, resulting in a night of laughs, stories of the past, and something between them that they can’t keep denying.

Warnings: Swearing, Talk of past family issues, Mention of reader’s ex, Talk of mental abuse, Neglect, Insecurities, Alcohol Consumption, Dean being cute (yes, that’s a warning), Flirting, Forbidden feelings, Moment of weakness (you’ll see what I mean, I don’t want to spoil it)

Music: Renegade by Styx (Dean cooking scene), What Is and What Should Never Be by Led Zeppelin (Dean and Y/N end scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the love towards this series! It’s been amazing to hear all of your thoughts! We’re really getting into it now, and I just hope you’ll enjoy the journey of these characters. I can’t wait to hear what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Life's Lessons Masterlist

The next couple of days flew by, and before she knew it, it was Wednesday. Y/N was happy to be getting her car back, her life becoming easier again, especially with school. Her classes had been keeping her busy, grading tests and making sure the homework was done. All of her students but a couple were doing well, and she knew she would have to talk to the parents as she soon as they had time to meet. Things remained awkward with Ben, who would never really say much, except for a few sentences each class.

She knew it was hard with her being his teacher and living across the street but given the size of this town it was hard not to see people constantly. The only thing that could be done and what she had been practicing, was not talking about him or to him outside of a school setting.

Cas had brought Y/N into the garage again, once classes were over on Wednesday. Though this time he couldn’t stay, wanting to meet Meg before she started her shift at the hospital. Y/N walked in and was greeted by the receptionist this time, an elder woman.

“Hi, I’m Ellen, what can I help you with?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my car. I’m Y/N Y/L/N” she told the woman. She had a pleasant demeanor, but Y/N had the feeling she could really get mad of you pissed her off.

“Oh, so you’re Y/N!” she beamed. “Dean’s been talkin’ about ya non-stop. Just making sure he does everything right and on time.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. “Well, that’s nice of him.” Dean had been talking about her to his friends and co-workers? She suddenly felt a little strange to be the centre of attention.

Just as Ellen was about to speak, the door to the men’s room in the reception area opened, and Benny walked out, this time without any car grease on him. He was looking sharp as he was a little dressed up.

“Hey, cher” he smiled, as he enveloped in a hug. She liked him and it was easy to see why he and Dean got along. Benny was mild mannered despite his intimidating build, and he clearly loved the work as much as his green-eyed friend.

“Hey, Benny. You clean up well” she complemented him, taking in his crisp white shirt and black pants.

“Thanks, darlin’. My girlfriend, Andrea’s coming back from visiting family in Greece, so I’m headed to the airport” he told her, a big smile on his bearded face.

“Oh, wow!” she gasped. “That would’ve been amazing!”

“Yeah, she had a great time. I can’t wait to see her” Benny smiled, giddily. “Dean’s just bringing your car around.”

“Great” she breathed out. “Well, have a wonderful time with Andrea.”

“I will, and you know when things are more settled for ya, you should come over for dinner” Benny said, genuinely.

“I’d love that” she smiled.

“Take care, cher” he said, as he winked and walked away.

“Bye, Benny” she called out as she watched him leave through the front door.

Y/N watched through the windows as Benny waited to the side, as her car pulled up. She smiled as she watched Dean get out, wearing his aviators and blue and black plaid. Was there ever a time he wouldn’t look so damn breathtaking? The man was a walking sculpture. She watched as Benny walked off to his car, and Dean walked towards the front door. She smiled at him as he saw her and smirked, opened the door and took off his sunglasses. She looked amazing in her maroon A-line skirt and white top, with a fawn coat. Dean couldn’t help but admire her. She could wear a paper bag and still look stunning.

“Hey” he said, with the widest grin on his face. “Come on.”

He held out his hand and without a second thought, she clasped it with hers. Both of them had the same thought of how perfectly their hands fit together, but quickly pushed it aside. He led her outside and over to her car.

“Here she is” he said, dropping her hand, much to Y/N’s dismay. “Get in and turn the car on.” He tossed her the keys which she caught perfectly.

Y/N quickly got in the front seat and smiled, half excited and half nervous. She dropped her bag in the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition, and heard it turn on. This time without any hideous sounds.

“Woooo!” he cheered with a laugh.

She laughed as she shook her head. He was crazy, but she loved how much he loved his work. She turned the car back off just as he came around to her side. She got out and automatically wrapped her arms around his neck, in a hug. He pulled her close, his arms around her waist, as he swayed them side to side. He chuckled, the rumble in his chest vibrating through her.

“Thank you so, so much, Dean” she whispered.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart” he whispered back.

The hug lasted a little longer than they had intended, and she quickly pulled away before they could overthink the gesture.

“I got to get home” she said, not really wanting to leave but knowing she had to.

“Yeah” he nodded, trying not to sound disappointed. “Come and find me if something happens, again, but you’re definitely good to go.”

“I’m sure I won’t have to” she said, as she sat back in her seat. Dean closed the door for her but leaned into the open window.

“See you around, sweetheart” he winked.

“Bye” she muttered, trying not to look flustered by his charm. Cut it out, woman! She scolded herself as she pulled out of the garage parking, and turned her car in the direction of home.

Friday night quickly around again. Ben was staying at a friend’s house, which gave Dean the perfect opportunity to cook dinner for Lisa. With Styx Renegade playing on the record player and the sauce for the lasanga simmering on the stove, he started mixing ingredients for dessert as the front door opened. Lisa walked in from having dropped Ben off and eyed him incredulously.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, leaning into the kitchen island.

“With the kid away for the night, I thought this was a good night to stay in and cook” he smirked, genuinely. “Have some alone time.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m going out with the girls.”

He frowned, trying not to roll his eyes. “Can’t you go out with them some other time? I mean, you’re always out with them. I thought we could have a night to ourselves for once.”

“They’re my friends, Dean” she chastised him. “I don’t stop you from going out with your friends.”

She walked down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

An hour later, Lisa left the house with a slam of the door. Dean made up the lasanga and put it in the oven, but what was the point of eating it by himself? Now he didn’t even feel like eating it, wanting to order in pizza instead and threw back a few beers. As he started to dial the pizza place, he stopped. He looked up and out of the window in the kitchen. He smiled as an idea came to him.

Y/N was thankful for this Friday night to herself. She was going to call Katie and then watch a couple episodes of The Walking Dead which she had recorded, and get a pizza delivered. She made plans for Saturday to go watch a movie and have lunch with Charlie. She had asked for Meg’s number from Cas to invite her, but she was unfortunately working at the hospital. She promised to come to whatever the next thing would be, though, and Y/N was excited to meet her soon enough.

Just as she was about to sit down and call Katie, the doorbell rang a few times. Y/N frowned, wondering who could ring so urgently and hurried to the door. She swung it open and smiled as she saw Dean on the other side, looking flustered. The dark green shirt he was wearing was crumpled, and there was red and white checked dish cloth on his shoulder, which he probably hadn’t noticed.

“Please tell me you’re not doing anything tonight” he said, quickly, his hands rubbing over each other, nervously.

“Uh, no. I mean, I had a date with my DVR, but that’s about it” she said, shaking her head.

“Okay, well… if you want, I’d love to have you over to dinner. Ben’s at a friend’s for the night, Lisa couldn’t cancel her plans with friends when I asked her to stay for dinner, and I don’t want it to go to waste” he told her, a hopeful look on his face.

She smiled, not even thinking twice about it. “I’d love to.”

He pumped his fist, as he smiled wide. “You’re the best. Okay. In half an hour?”

“Absolutely” she nodded, his smile infectious as she found herself smiling too.

“Ah! Thank you!” he shouted happily, as he quickly leaned in and pecked her cheek. “See you soon!”

He quickly ran off back to his house, clearly not realizing what he just did.

Y/N shut the door, not being able to stop herself from smiling. She was trying to tread lightly but it was too hard. When he kept being the amazing human that he was, how could she? She knew she needed to call Katie as she got ready to go over there. She would set her straight.

She walked into her bedroom and opened up her closet, trying to figure what to wear. Considering the weather was starting to turn, a sweater and jeans would be most appropriate. She tossed the clothes on the bed and then stripped off, walking into her bathroom. She wanted to freshen up quickly after a long day at work. As she turned the shower on and then stepped in, she clipped her hair up to save it from the water. As she moved her body under the water, her mind wandered to Dean. She hated the idea of him trying to work things out with Lisa and her leaving him hanging. Did she care about him at all? Why stick around in a relationship that isn’t going anywhere? Did they even have their good days anymore? Having been in a bad relationship herself, she knew what it could do to your mind, and she hated to think that Dean was going through something awful by being in relationship that absolutely was not going anywhere.

She quickly lathered up, her mind still on Dean. These feelings of attraction weren’t new to her, but this was the first time they had been so intense. His face was somehow rugged and yet beautiful, his body was hard but his touch soft. Her eyes closed as her mind continued to wander, her hand moving down between her thighs. She rubbed her hand over her mound, the water cascading down on her only serving to make her wetter than she already was. Before she could continue, however, her mind quickly snapped out of the images of him. She moved her hand away, feeling guilty that she did what she did, but glad that she stopped before she went any further.

She turned off the shower and stepped out, wiping down. She quickly got dressed into what she was going to wear for dinner, and then dialled Katie’s number. She picked up on the second ring, her cheery voice on loudspeaker.

“Hey!”

“Hey, how are you?” she asked her friend.

“I’m great, but… you don’t sound so good” Katie replied, her voice full of concern for Y/N.

“Well, I’m about to head over to Dean’s for dinner. Just me and him” Y/N said, sighing.

“And you’re broken up about it because he’s still with his girlfriend? Right?” Katie asked, accurately assisting the situation.

“Bingo” Y/N replied.

She heard Katie breathe out deeply. “Y/N.”

“In my defence, he asked me because his girlfriend couldn’t cancel her plans with friends, and he didn’t want dinner to go to waste. I couldn’t say no” Y/N quickly explained.

There was a pause in conversation; Y/N knew that Katie was thinking.

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with going over there, as a friend and having a good time” Katie reassured her. “Just… be careful.”

I will” Y/N nodded. She glanced at the clock and saw that she should leave. “I should go.”

“Okay, keep me posted” Katie said.

“I will. Sorry we couldn’t talk for longer” Y/N apologized.

“It’s okay, we can make up for it soon” Katie said, simply.

“Definitely” Y/N agreed.

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Y/N quickly fixed her hair into more of a natural look, sweeping it off to the side. She put on her chocolate brown knee high heeled boots, sprayed some perfume on, and picked her phone as she left the house.

Y/N walked across the street, fidgeting with the neckline of her black sweater. She kept trying to pull it up over her shoulders, but the sleeves kept slipping down to rest almost off-shoulder. There was no point battling with it to do something it clearly couldn’t, so she left the neckline alone. Her Y/H/C hair was resting over shoulder, exposing the other. She had a split second of realizing that maybe she shouldn’t have worn it like that or the sweater, but it was too late now.

She walked up the porch steps and rang the doorbell. She was nervous to be alone with him, but she couldn’t help but feel a little excited too. It was alone time with Dean, and as much as she wanted it to be more, it was just two friends having dinner together. That’s it. It couldn’t be more. She wouldn’t let it be more. She waited patiently, but a breath caught in her throat when the door opened.

Dean had changed for dinner and was standing there in a dark grey Henley and dark blue jeans, looking like a freaking model. Dear god, give me strength she thought as she smiled at him, admiring the way the Henley clung to his muscles.

“Hey, come on in” he smiled, letting her into the house.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She smiled as her chin rested on his shoulder, and suddenly missed the closeness when he moved away.

As she walked in, Dean made quick work of checking her out. The black sweater she was wearing exposed her shoulders and collarbone, as her hair was styled in a simple yet perfect way. She was freaking stunning and he was regretting calling her over here.

Just keep it friendly and it’ll be good he told himself as he closed the door and walked into the kitchen.

“So, what can I get you drink?” he asked, as she followed him into the kitchen. “We got beer, wine, whiskey, a whole bunch of other spirits.”

She walked over to one of the high stools at the kitchen island, her heeled boots echoing through the house as they hit the hardwood floor and sat across from where he was standing.

“Wine would be great” she said, as she placed her phone in front of her on the counter, as she swayed a little to Zeppelin playing softly from the record player.

“Red or white?” he asked.

“Whatever’s going to go with dinner” she replied, with a small laugh.

“Red it is” he drummed his hands on the surface and then walked over to the other side of the kitchen, opening the glasses cabinet. He took out two wine glasses and selected a bottle from the wine rack on the bar he had next to the kitchen, before he walked back to his original spot.

“I didn’t take you for a wine guy” she teased, as she watched him pour a decent amount into each glass.

“I am when the occasion calls for it, and this definitely does” he said, as he passed one glass to her. He lifted his up in a toast and she did the same.

“To new friendships?” she suggested.

He smiled, nodding. “Absolutely.”

They clinked their glasses together and then both took a sip. She hummed as the liquid slipped down her throat.

“That’s amazing” she commented as she looked down at her glass.

“Yeah” he agreed as he picked up the bottle. “It’s pretty damn good and I’m not even much of a wine drinker.”

“So, how was work?” she asked, as she took another sip of wine.

His eyes lit up instantly. “Oh my god, today was freaking amazing! This guy brought in a beat up ’69 Camaro and wants us to restore it from the ground up!”

Her jaw dropped, just as excited as him now. “Oh my god, Dean! That’s incredible!”

He shook his head, his head still reeling. “I know, I swear as soon as he brought it into the back, me and Benny were losing our minds.”

“Wow” she laughed happily.

“It’s pretty much everything; new engine-” he started but suddenly stopped, clearing his throat. “Sorry, you probably don’t wanna hear this.”

She frowned, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “No, I do. Please, Dean, continue.”

“Oh, okay” he looked relieved as he went on. “So, yeah… new engine, tires, upholstery, paint job, the whole works.”

“That’s so awesome” she grinned.

“Yeah, and the guy’s pretty fucking loaded, too. So, he’s not sparing any expense. Paid in advance for everything” he told her, the smile never leaving his face.

“Dean” she sighed, her heart soaring. “This is seriously amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N” he half smiled, a twinge of sadness behind it. “I called and told Lisa as soon as he left. She said she was happy for me, but I know she’s not into this sorta thing, so…” he laughed it off, but Y/N knew he was hurting.

“Well, I don’t think you have to be in order to be happy for someone. I don’t know a damn thing about cars, but I’m really happy for you” she told him, sincerely.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right” he said, as he took a sip of wine. “I haven’t even told her about all my thoughts for expanding, either, because I know it’s not something she’s be interested in.”

“Expanding?” she asked, curiously.

“Yeah, I mean… we’ve had restoration jobs in the past, none as big as this one, but we’ve had a few. Every time we do, I keep thinking about opening another branch of the shop, specifically for restoration on classics, across town. Benny could run things here, while I’m at the new place for a while, and then we could just keep rotating between all of us at the shop. Maybe even hire a few more guys” he explained, a small grin on his face as he did.

“Dean… I think that’s brilliant. Not to mention incredibly different. That could really put you on the map” she complemented his plan, loving the idea instantly.

“Yeah” he nodded. “We’re flying already, and I’m really happy with where we are, but I know that we’d be unstoppable if that happened. You know?”

Y/N smiled; she loved seeing how ambitious he was. She couldn’t help but feel bad that he probably hadn’t shared this with anyone, except for maybe Benny.

“So, what about you? How’s work?” he asked, changing the subject to her.

“It’s good. I feel like I’m finally settled into the job, it happened quicker than I thought it would. I feel like Cas and Charlie had something to do with that. They’ve been so supportive of me” she replied, slowly turning her glass by the stem.

“Yeah, they’re awesome” Dean chuckled, incredibly matter of fact.

“We’re moving into teaching To Kill A Mockingbird next week, which I’m excited about” she smiled; it was one of her favorites.

“Man, I wish I had teachers as excited as you about school. Maybe I would’ve enjoyed it too” he laughed as he recalled his school days.

“Not a school guy, Dean?” she teased.

“God, no. I mean, I graduated, but that’s about it. I just didn’t have it in me like Sammy did, you know?” he said, truthfully.

“Well…” she said, as she laid her hand on his. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. What you do matters, too. Not everyone can have the skills you have.”

Dean had the sudden realization that her hand felt incredible in his and he never wanted her to let go. She really cared about him and what he did, and that made his heart beat just a bit faster, knowing that.

“So, no hare-brained ideas like me?” he chuckled, but his self-deprecating humor wasn’t lost on her.

“Well, firstly, your idea isn’t hare-brained” she quickly chastised him for the way he was thinking. “And secondly, no big plans other than eventually moving into high school. Teaching Literature; that’s where I want to be.”

He nodded, all while trying to keep his naughty teacher fantasies at bay. “That’s great.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong I do enjoy teaching the younger kids, but they’re a handful. Having more of chance to teach the stuff I really love in high school… it would be amazing” she said, her eyes dreamy and hopeful.

“Well, I hope you get there. Those kids are gonna have one badass teacher” he smirked as he complemented her.

“Thanks” she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I hope so, too. I’m dying to get the chance to teach my favorites; especially Jane Eyre.”

“That had something about a fire, right?” he asked, trying to recall if he knew anything about that book.

“Yeah. I absolutely love it” she sighed.

“Hey, what do you know, I know something” he laughed.

She shook her head, smiling as she gestured to the bookshelves in the living room. “Seems like you know plenty.”

“Those are mostly Lisa’s” he waved her off.

“Really?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. She hopped off the stool at the kitchen island and walked over to the shelves. She scanned them quickly, and took out a book, holding it up to him. It was Slaughterhouse Five. “Somehow I don’t think Lisa’s a Vonnegut fan.”

“I guess not” he said, as he walked over, slowly.

“Or Dracula” she said, picking that one up after putting away the other.

“Yeah, I… um, I like the sci-fi, and horror stuff” he shrugged.

“I do too” she smiled.

He returned it, finding their conversation so easy it scared him. It shouldn’t have been that simple with someone he couldn’t be with.

“Food shouldn’t be too hot now” he said, breaking the moment between them. “Let’s eat.”

Dean walked back into the kitchen and picked up the dish that was cooling down from the corner near the stove. He brought it over to the table and sat down at the head of the table, just as Y/N brought her wine glass and Dean’s over. She sat down at the corner where the place setting was as he lifted the lid off the dish. The smell was absolutely divine as it reached her nose. Dean cut into the lasagna and placed the piece on her plate with a slice of garlic bread and some salad. She smiled as he passed it to her and took out his own serving, minus the salad. She had to laugh.

“Alright, go ahead and give me the verdict” he said, wanting her to eat first.

She dug in and took a forkful, bringing it to her mouth. As she chewed, her eyes closed, a smile gracing her face.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “That… is incredible.”

“Glad to hear to that” he smirked as he dug in.

“So…” she swallowed her mouthful before continuing. “Who taught you how to cook?”

“My mom, as cliché as that sounds. She didn’t want me eating take-out all the time when I moved out years ago, so she taught me a few things” he told her.

She nodded, smiling. She couldn’t help but think about how she found guys who cooked incredibly sexy.

“Are you and your mom close?” she asked.

“Yeah, we are. I was the one who was there for her when she and dad had a big fight. We started to talk more often after that” he replied, taking another bite.

“What happened?” she asked, softly. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

If it was anyone else, he probably would’ve shot the question down, but he was comfortable around Y/N. He felt like he could tell her things and she wouldn’t judge anyone. Even Lisa barely knew anything about his family.

“I was around 23, 24 and working with dad full-time by then. Sammy was at college. Things weren’t going great with the business; we were losing money and he was getting really stressed. He was forgetting things, just trying to provide and he forgot their anniversary. She got really upset and found out just how bad things were. There was a lot of yelling, she cried a lot. One night, he just left. He came back after a month, apologized a lot to her, and she forgave him. He was really different when he came back; a better version of himself. Things have been really good ever since” he explained, that memory still hard to think about.

“Do you guys know where he went?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, he went to a family friend in South Dakota. He helped turn things around for the business too, he’s a mechanic as well” Dean replied, smiling as he thought about his “uncle”. “Dad told me later he was just ashamed and didn’t know how to face her after what happened. He felt like he couldn’t provide for her, that she deserved better. He’s always felt like he didn’t deserve her, and she’s always felt like he’s exactly the person she was meant to be with.”

“I’m glad everything worked out” she smiled but frowned when something occurred to her. “Did he ever apologize to you?”

“He didn’t need to, I understood what happened and I never judged him for it” he shrugged.

“Well, that maybe so, but it put a pressure on you that you didn’t need” she said, understanding the situation completely. “I’m just saying, it’s never too late for that conversation.”

A silence fell as Dean thought about what she just said. About how she just understood, so instantly, so clearly. He cleared his throat as he continued to eat, his mind flooded with a million thoughts about her.

“You know a lot about my family, so I gotta know something about yours now” he said, wagging his eyebrows as he looked at her.

She laughed as she racked her brain for something interesting. “I wish I had some interesting stories, but I don’t.”

“Well, who are you closer with?” he asked.

She chewed quickly as she put her fork down. “Dad. I mean, I love my mom and we get a long great, but she can be a little too assertive sometimes. Whereas, my dad always knew how to get her to calm down and let me take the reins when I needed to. He always let me make my own choices, and if I ever made a decision that didn’t turn out well, he’d tell me that it was okay. It was a learning curve and that I would do it differently next time.”

Dean nodded, approvingly. “Smart.”

“Yeah” she smiled sadly, her heart longing for her family. “I miss them.”

“That’s another thing I gotta ask…” Dean started as she looked at him. “You’ve said you’re close with them since I first met you, so… why did you move so far away from them?”

There it was. The question she had been dreading. Yes, she had already told Charlie but that came up organically, through their conversation at the bar. Telling him was different.

Dean sensed a shift in Y/N and knew something was wrong. Her hands closed up, she avoided looking at him as she stared down at her plate and looked like she was shaking. He had never seen her like this, and he was scared that he had really upset her.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I just… don’t know how to tell you” she replied, as she picked up her glass and took a big gulp of wine.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything, it’s totally fine. I’m an idiot, I shouldn’t have brought it up” he apologized but she shook her head, causing him to stop.

“No, you’re not. It’s okay” she said, quietly. “I want to tell you. You’ve told me so much about your life, it’s only right I tell you about mine. Plus, I’ve talked about it with Charlie, so I’ll be okay.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to just because Charlie-” he said but she cut him off again.

“It’s okay, Dean. Really” she let one side of her mouth turn up, letting him know it was fine.

When Dean just looked at her intently and didn’t say anything, she decided that for now she’d tell him what she could. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, because she did. Completely. She just needed to hold some of it back for now. She told Charlie everything because somehow it was easier to open up to her. Dean was someone she was starting to have genuine feelings for, even though she shouldn’t be. As much as she wanted to open her whole heart to him, he wasn’t hers to do that.

Y/N cleared her throat from the roughness that built up because of the alcohol and her emotions already affecting her.

“I was in a relationship for a year and a half. His name was Ethan. He was a friend of a friend and we met at that friend’s birthday party. He was charming and funny, a little arrogant but I didn’t think much of it at the start. We started dating and he generous, but it didn’t last long. He was incredibly controlling, telling what I should or shouldn’t do. Everyone would tell me that wasn’t normal, and deep down I knew that, but he was just so convincing that I thought that he was trying to make me better” she told him, her voice shaking.

Dean continued to look at her, slipping his hand over hers. Y/N felt the heat of his hand on hers as she turned hers, locking them together.

“It took a night of a lot yelling, of finally realizing what kind of a man he was, to make me finally leave him.” She shook her head, closing her eyes as the waves of the past began to flood in.

She felt Dean’s hand squeeze hers, reassuring her that she was okay. That she wasn’t in that place anymore. It was a year later, but the effects of what Ethan had said, what he had done, still lingered, still held onto the rope that was nearly broken. Most of the strands were frayed and lost, but the last strands still needed to be torn.

Y/N opened her eyes and looked at Dean. She saw his eyes, sad but fiery, as he shook his head. She had probably scared him off and she didn’t blame him, honestly.

“Y/N, you’re… you’re the strongest person I know.” Dean gripped her hand, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re amazing. Beautiful. I-, fuck I wanna hurt him for what he did to you.”

Y/N huffed as what she was feeling got the better of her. “Fortunately, he’s far enough away that you don’t have to.”

“Is your family safe with him around?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, they are” she nodded, wiping under her eyes. “He uh… he was around for a while, I’d see him a lot, but he eventually moved out to L.A. with his girlfriend.”

“Good riddance” he grumbled, under his breath.

“I knew he was gone but still being there… it just became too much. I was in therapy for a year just trying work through everything. When I saw this job come up, I jumped on it straight away. I miss everyone back home, but I knew I had to leave” she explained, blinking a few times to keep the tears at bay. “There’s a lot more to it, but… I just…”

Dean shook his head as he leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. “You don’t have to tell me more, Y/N.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at him. “Thank you. For listening. It’s not everything but I wanted to tell you.”

“Well, thank you for telling me what you could. I can’t imagine how hard that was.” He gave her a soft smile, as he looked down at their hands. Still joined together.

“It was, but…” she contemplated whether she should say what she was about to, but it was the truth and she wanted him to know. “I trust you.”

Dean nodded, realizing that it meant a lot for her to do that. The fact that he had earned her trust in a short amount of time was something he wasn’t expecting. Now that he had it though, he made a promise then and there to himself that he would never let her doubt him.

“I trust you, too” he spoke softly, but he smiled when he saw the corners of her mouth turn up and he knew that she had heard him.

Y/N was glad to know that she had Dean’s trust too. It took a lot for a person to tell someone about their family issues, and the fact that he did just meant that he was comfortable around her. She was grateful for that and if he felt like that with her, then she certainly did with him, allowing her to tell him about her past. Even if there still a bit more to the story.

The conversation turned lighter after that. They discretely unclasped their hands from each other, as they continued to eat. They both hid the fact that they missed the feeling. They asked each other about their favorite things, the conversation moving quickly between movies, books and music. They both decided that Zeppelin was the shit, and no one could tell them otherwise. Dean quickly got up and changed the record to another Zeppelin album, and sat back down.

“Okay, don’t judge me” she said, looking sheepish as she pointed to the record player. “I still don’t have this album.”

“What?” he asked as he leaned forward, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

“No, unfortunately. I’m pretty sure dad just never got around to buying it, ever” she told him, frowning.

“Well, we gotta change that soon” he shook his head but with a small smile.

Y/N sat back in her chair; her plate now empty. That had been one of the best meals she had had a long time.

“Damn, that was incredible” she said. “Thank you.”

Dean smirked as he started clearing the plates and cutlery. “No problem, sweetheart. I’m glad it wasn’t failure.”

“Somehow I don’t think you could fail at this” she laughed slightly, as she stood up and helped him.

“Hey, I got this” he groaned as he nudged her, silently telling her to stop helping him.

“No way, you’re getting help whether you want it or not” she said, as she followed him into the kitchen.

He started washing up as she grabbed a cloth and started wiping whatever he washed.

“That was my job when me and Sam would clear up” he gestured to her, as she stood there with the towel.

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You weren’t the one washing?”

“Nope, Sammy didn’t trust me not to splash him” he laughed.

She joined in. “Brothers.”

“Eh, I’ve done worse” he shrugged, passing her a plate.

“Like what?” she wondered.

“Let’s see…” a wicked grin graced his face. “Itching powder in his boxers, Nair in his shampoo…”

She let out a loud screech. “Oh my god, no!”

“Yeah, I got into a lot of trouble for that one” he laughed, sheepishly.

“Good” she said, playfully elbowing him, but a little hard.

“Ow!” he moaned as he laughed. He turned the water off and wiped his hands on another cloth.

“Did you and your sister ever prank each other?” he asked.

“Uh, less purposely pranking and more just getting each other back for something” she recalled. “She’s older so she always felt like she deserved the most time in the bathroom. She spat in my hair while we were brushing our teeth and I bent down before her. So… I shaved off one of her eyebrows while she was sleeping.”

Dean threw his head and laughed loudly. “Wow, didn’t expect that, Y/L/N.”

She laughed as she wiped down the last of the cutlery. “Luckily, we grew out of all of that pretty quick.”

Dean smiled. She always wore a far off look on her face when she talked about her family. It must’ve been hard to not see them every day. He couldn’t imagine doing that. He went over to the oven and opened it, taking out a tray with two white ramekins. Y/N gasped as she walked over.

“You… you made chocolate molten cakes?” she asked, staring at them before looking up at him, wide eyed.

“Yeah” he said, nonchalantly. “There wasn’t enough time for pie, so chocolate cake it is.”

“You’re… full of surprises, Dean Winchester” she shook her head. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be.

“More wine?” he asked, as he waited for the ramekins to cool.

“Oh gosh, I’ve had three glasses. I really shouldn’t” she said, looking at the bottle. “Ah, screw it. Sure!”

Dean chuckled and poured some for Y/N and then himself as What Is and What Should Never Be began to play.

And if I say to you tomorrow

Take my hand, child come with me

It’s to a castle I will take you

Where what’s to be, they say will be

He watched as she hopped up on the kitchen bench and took her glass. He took out a spoon from the drawer and slowly cut into the cake, watching the melted chocolate ooze out. He took some in the spoon and brought it over to her. He blew on it slightly, as he held his hand under it.

“Okay, tell me if it’s good” he said, as she leaned in and took the mouthful in.

The sound she made as she closed her eyes caused the heat to rise in his cheeks.

“Fuck” she moaned, delightedly. “That’s so fucking amazing!”

He sighed in relief and cleared his throat at the sounds she made, as he grinned at her. “Good to know.”

“You are an incredible cook, Dean. I’m glad I came over tonight” she said, looking at him as he took a bite himself.

Catch the wind, see us spin

Sail away leave today

Way up high, in the sky, hey

He hummed as he tasted it himself. “Well, me too. All this didn’t go to waste, which it definitely would’ve considering Lisa couldn’t stay, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome” she smiled, as she took a sip of wine.

He saw a speck of melted chocolate on the side of her lips and lifted his hand.

But the wind won’t blow

You really shouldn’t go

It only goes to show

“Hey, you got a little chocolate… right there” he murmured as he swiped his thumb across her lips and removed it.

“Oh” she gasped. “Thanks.”

The song continued to play as they looked at each other, their faces close as their eyes met.

That you will be mine

By taking our time, ooh

Before he could think twice about it, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It took her a second, but quickly her lips moved against his. The kiss became heated instantly, their lips moving together sensually. He moved forward between her legs and wrapped his arms around her waist, as her arms went around his neck at the same time her legs wrapped around his hips. Her fingers combed through his hair, her fists tightening in the short spikes as he softly bit her bottom lip. She moaned into the kiss as his hands pulled her in, trying to get as close to her as possible.

And if you say to me tomorrow

Oh what fun it all would be

Then what’s to stop us, pretty baby

But what is and what should never be

Dean’s lips left hers as they trailed down, nipping at her jaw and moving down further. He nipped at her neck, causing another moan to leave her as he found her weak spot. She brought him in closer, gripping the short hair at the back of his head, tight. He slowly slipped his hand under her loose sweater, the heat of his hand meeting her back and spreading through her body. When his hand travelled up her back, the spell she was under broke.

Y/N pulled away from Dean, looking up into his green eyes. They were dark and blown wide from the moment of weakness they both just had, and she was sure hers were the same. She pushed herself away from him, her legs falling away from as he moved out of her space.

“I can’t do this” she said, frantically shaking her head.

She quickly hopped off the bench, looking for her phone. It was still on the island where she had left it. She quickly picked it up and ran towards the door.

Dean snapped out of his trance and followed behind her. “Y/N, wait!”

She didn’t hear him as she swung the door open and raced out, bounding down the stairs as she ran across the street.

Dean watched from the threshold as she ran into her house, shutting the door behind her. He thought that he should go over there, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. He stepped back in and closed the door. He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the spikes and ran them back down his face. He walked back into the kitchen, replaying what just happened over and over in his head. He had lost control and the guilt was beginning to settle in. Lisa didn’t deserve that, no matter how bad things were between them. He shouldn’t have done that with Y/N, she didn’t need this.

As he ran his hand over his lips, however, he closed his eyes. He could still her lips, still feel her touch on his body, still feel the smoothness of her skin against his hands. In that moment, it felt so right to be in her arms. It hadn’t felt wrong.

He knew now that he had just complicated things even more. Every fibre within him wanted to be close to her again, but he couldn’t.

He just had to try even harder now, with Lisa. That was the only way to not think about Y/N anymore.

That was the only way to fix things.

Y/N slammed the door behind her as she entered her house. She breathed heavily, her frantic run from Dean’s had winded her. She walked into the kitchen and opened the tap at the sink, flicking specks of water at her face. She took out a glass and filled it, gulping the water down.

Once she had calmed down slightly, her mind wandered back to what happened. She had kissed Dean. Dean, who was in a relationship. Dean, who was practically a father to a student in her class. Dean, who made her laugh and let her tell her story, without judging her. Dean, who said she was strong. Dean, who told her she was beautiful. Dean, who made her feel safe. Dean, who she was starting to have real feelings for.

It felt right to be with him, when it should’ve felt wrong. She was a horrible person and she never should’ve gone over there tonight.

She couldn’t see him again. Yes, it would be hard considering their close proximity, but she couldn’t. She had to forget about how she felt and remember he had a family. A family that didn’t deserve this, even if things were rocky.

She had to let go of Dean, when every instinct was telling her to pull him in and hold him tight.

She had to let him go, no matter how much it hurt.

She had to let him go, because it was the right thing to do.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @castiels-a-winchester @ellewritesfix05​

[gerrycoco]

It's been longer than I intended but here is chapter 3 of the fanfic I've been working on based on the Temperature of Love comics created by the amazing @nwarrior777

I meant to try and post chapter 4 as well but I'm not quite there just yet. I should hopefully have it out soon though as well as the other chapters (if I can get back onto the creative writing train)

I hope you enjoy.

You can also read it here on my ao3

Chapter 3

Three days.

That’s how long it took for my powers to stabilize and for me to be able to control them properly. I had never been a natural or a quick study for anything before so this was definitely a first. Not that I was complaining or anything obviously.

However I could tell that that didn't exactly make me the favorite among the other newcomers, most of whom were still struggling significantly to control their powers. Robert especially seemed to make a point to take his frustrations out on me, making every possible 'Frozen' related comment to try and make fun of me whenever we were in group settings.

Unfortunately for him, I love that movie and couldn't have cared less really. I did however care about the fact that I hadn't really made any friends since I got there. At the very least I would be spending one whole year at the Academy and so I was going to be very lonely if I didn't find a way to make friends and soon.

It was about two weeks after arriving at the Academy that I finally managed to make my first real friend there. One afternoon after training I decided to go explore the outside courtyard. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly overhead. It was another wildly hot day and I appeared to be the only one there.

With my newfound power I no longer had to suffer from the summer heat and could cool myself without much thought or effort. I sat down on one of the benches, taking a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet.

Suddenly I was startled by the sound of someone literally appearing out of nowhere. I yelped and almost fell off the bench. The girl who’d just appeared also yelped, apparently equally surprised.

“Is this… am I at the Academy?” the girl asked me, visibly flustered.

“Yeah, this is the outdoor courtyard,” I replied, eyeing her cautiously.

“Oh thank goodness, I wasn’t completely off target then,” she exhaled with relief. She then noticed that I was staring at her and straightened. “Sorry about that, I have teleportation powers you see. I’ve got it mostly mastered but every so often it seems to glitch a bit. Thankfully this time I’m only just a little off.”

“Huh, okay then, that makes sense,” I answered, giving her a smile. Although I didn’t know this girl she had a nice bubbly energy that I appreciated. “I’m Demian by the way, and you are?”

“Oh right sorry! How rude of me, I’m Tamara,” the girl answered with a wide grin. “How in the world were you just chilling here outside before I got here? I’ve been here for barely 2 minutes and I’m already sweaty.”

“That’s not really a problem for me. I have ice powers so I basically have my own internal AC unit,” I explained, conjuring up a few snowflakes to illustrate my point.

“Wow lucky you,” Tamara replied, “that’s definitely the power I’d want right now. It’s too hot lately to be outside otherwise and there’s no outdoor pool here.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she was clearly finding it much more uncomfortable being outside than I did.

“Maybe I can help with that,” I suggested, extending my hand toward her arm. I paused, waiting for her permission.

Tamara eyed me curiously but nodded anyway. I then touched her lightly on the arm, sending a gentle wave of cold up her arm. Her eyes widened as it happened, visibly surprised at the chill that contrasted the hit air surrounding us. “Woah that is so cool!”

I beamed at her, feeling happy to be helpful. My power was fun for me but there wasn’t much point in playing with it if it couldn’t serve any purpose. “I can do your other arm if you want so it doesn’t get jealous,” I jokingly.

Tamara laughed in reply, extending her other arm so I could do just that. “You know,” she said, “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

************************************ Tamara and I became fast friends after our eventful first meeting. We hung out quite often when we didn’t have any training. This allowed me to hang out with other people at the Academy since Tamara seemed to have an easy time making friends. I quickly found out however that it wasn’t just because of her bright and bubbly personality.

Tamara’s power allowed her to teleport outside of the Academy and so she would often find ways of secretly bringing stuff back in. That meant a lot of the other awakened were friendly with her in order to get her to sneak stuff in for them.

One day at lunch we were hanging out in the cafeteria when a group came to sit with us for that exact reason. No longer had it taken for them to put in their ‘orders’ with Tamara that they were gone to go sit together somewhere else, leaving me and Tamara behind.

I saw Tamara sigh as they left but she didn’t say anything as she silently finished jotting down all the requests in her phone notepad.

“You know,” I said to her, gently, “you don’t have to say yes to everyone that asks you to get them something.”

“I know, I know,” Tamara replied, though she had a rather guilty look on her face. “I guess I just want people to like me. I know I’m not the prettiest and I can be a bit much socially so with my power at least I get to be useful and people want to be my friend.” Her gaze was fixed on the table, looking partially ashamed but mostly just sad.

“Oh Tamara…” I said, my heart breaking at the sight of her. “You are such an amazing person and that’s even without your power. Your value or you being liked shouldn’t be based on what people want to get from you. Anyone who does that is just taking advantage of you and doesn’t actually care.”

Tamara looked up at me rather skeptically. “That’s easy for you to say, you’re really good looking and you’re confident in who you are as a person.”

“That only goes so far you know,” I said. “I’ve failed at basically everything I’ve ever tried. My power is the first thing I’ve ever actually been good at. I know what it’s like to be rejected because you aren’t considered ‘good enough’ to be worth people’s time or friendship.”

“Demian, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know that…” Tamara replied, looking sheepish. “I guess maybe that’s why I like hanging out with you so much. I don’t feel like you expect anything from me and that you really do want to hang out with me, not just get something from me.” Her gaze finally met mine once again, a tentative smile spread across her lips.

“And I feel the same way,” I said, returning the smile. “You don’t make me feel bad for not being very good at much beyond my powers. My family has always been very understanding about that but not many other people have been.”

“I’m really glad to have you as my friend Demian,” Tamara said, smiling as she reached over to squeeze my hand.

“Same here Tamara,” I said, squeezing her hand in reply, “Same here.”

[hotchnisslovechild]

On the Sidelines

Chapter One

Holly and Marvyn meet and have a few beers.

A/N: i've recently fallen in love with the show big shot and grown quite attached to the relationship between holly and marvyn. i'll be needing something to hold me over as i wait for season 2 to be announced and released *fingers crossed*, so i thought i'd write a little something about these two. i’m not sure if any of you on here watch the show at all, but i feel like posting this here anyway. i recommend binging the first season of the show on disney+ :)

Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett (Big Shot) Rating: T Word Count: 2,302 AO3 Link

Today is the day. The day Holly gets to meet her new coaching partner and the team meets their new head coach. Changing into her practice clothes, something resembling both anxiety and excitement burrows itself in Holly’s nerves. Her thoughts run wild as she anticipates meeting the great Coach Marvyn Korn for the first time.

Holly would be lying if she said she didn’t have a little crush on Coach Korn. Of course, she admired his great looks, but she found his coaching to be just as fascinating, if not more. Watching him coach was electrifying. He’s animated, excited, always moving around, unable to sit still for a single play. He saw the court and everything happening all at once, managing his players like a brilliant conductor of an orchestra. She learned a lot from him by studying his coaching methods at Wisconsin from the comfort of her living room couch. He unknowingly taught her about defensive schemes and rotations, end-of-game scenarios, the importance of teaching your players every detail of the game and correcting their mistakes so they can improve. He undoubtedly loved the game and coaching it. His enthusiasm for the sport was infectious to his team in every game, and it paid off. That was until he threw it all away. And ended up here, at an all-girls private high school in California.

Taking a deep breath, the assistant coach walks into her office, her excited nerves to make a good impression mingling with her eagerness to get the season started with a new coach.  After tapping Shave and a Haircut on the window separating her office from Marvyn’s, she lets herself in, extending a hand to greet him.

“Holly Barrett, Assistant Coach,” she greets with an enthusiastic smile, borderline out of breath from the anticipation of finally meeting him. She studies him. His looks. His demeanor. He looks better than he did on TV — if that’s even possible. She finds his dark features beguiling. And those eyes. She could get lost in those light-colored eyes. There’s a lack of actual light in them, however. He seems unenthused, maybe a bit on edge. But she shrugs it off, attributing the lack of energy to nervousness.

“Marvyn Korn,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand, holding on to it a bit longer than necessary, caught off guard by the bright energy of the woman standing before him. She’s the first person at this school to greet him in a way that resembles any sort of kindness. No one at Westbrook wants him there. Hell, he doesn’t even want to be there. This is just one step towards getting back to college ball.

“It’s a great honor, Coach,” she says, letting go of his hand and walking towards the front of his desk, “I’m a big fan. You have no idea,” she admits, trying her hardest not to come across as creepy or weird. They are going to be working together pretty closely for the next few months, so she wants to start things off right with him, not scare him away or freak him out. She’s sure he’s already a bit freaked out being transplanted into an all-girls high school after coaching college men for so many years, and she’s not caught off guard when he then asks her for advice on coaching girls.

“Well, I'm tempted to say just treat 'em like the boys,” she starts, debating whether or not she wants to continue that thought. It’s probably not the best idea to offend the head coach on his first day on the job.

“But?” he pushes.

“You didn't treat the boys so well,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“Do you have any advice that might actually be helpful?”

She tells him that the girls on this Westbrook team are future leaders who are anxious to get started and can be a bit much. “Don’t pretend, they’ll see right through it,” she adds finally. And I’ll see right through it she thinks. “Other than that… let’s go coach some basketball,” she says brightly.

Marvyn tries his best not to roll his eyes as he gets up from his chair and heads onto the court to meet the girls. He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to coach a bunch of rich high school girls. Everything about this gig is a demotion for him. From college to high school. From men to girls. His disregard for this job is anything but hidden as he walks out of his office, dreading the official start of his role as Head Basketball Coach at Westbrook.

Holly follows closely behind him, excited and ready for a fresh start with a new coach to work with. Their previous coach had been nothing short of insufferable, constantly telling Holly she had no say in the team, diminishing her role as a coach, making it clear she was not in charge. Despite his harshness towards Holly, he coddled the girls on the team, always telling them what they wanted to hear. The lack of discipline never got the team anywhere, but Holly bit her tongue, knowing that whatever she had to say didn’t matter to her then-colleague. Marvyn gives her a sliver of hope for the team’s future and hers. She knows Marvyn will run things differently, and she hopes that this change will be a good change.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After one practice and not even one drink into their casual rendezvous at a sports bar, Holly concludes that Marvyn certainly is different from their previous coach, but she’s hesitant to consider the change a positive one. He takes the game too seriously, prioritizes the end goal of winning and success over the feelings of the girls on the team. To him, they are just pawns in his own lifelong game of basketball. They are X’s and O’s, not individuals worthy of being treated with respect. He practically committed every sin of working with teens in the book. He demeaned them, embarrassed them, and disrespected them all in the span of one practice.

“My life is basketball,” he begins, “Everyone in my life are basketball players. A good coach can't be successful if he becomes friends with his players.”

“What about after work?”

“There is no after work. Not if you wanna win. There's diagramming plays, there's watching tapes, the recruiting, but there's no after work.”

Holly lets out a breath. His version of reality is nearly incomprehensible to her. Never in her life has she met someone more polarizing and stuck in his way than this man in a tracksuit sitting in the booth with her. She almost feels sorry for him. He doesn’t have any friends, and he spends all of his time thinking about basketball and how to make his team better.

“I guess I don't have to ask what happened to your marriage,” Holly says boldly, venturing into the untouched territory of his personal life as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Nope. What happened to yours?” he returns. He checked her out in the teacher portal the day before. He’s all about preparation, and that does not exclude doing some research on his assistant coach.

Her eyes grow wide. How the hell did he know I was previously married? She thinks to herself. “None of your business,” she retorts, sidestepping his question as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to air out her dirty laundry in front of her colleague, especially considering they just met some few hours ago.

“It is my business. Add to that, you opened the door because you asked about my marriage.” She scoffs in response, now regretting bringing up the topic of failed marriages.

Marvyn opens up about his divorce first, telling her that his wife left him, which Holly deduces was because Marvyn is such a workaholic. “She figured that she deserved more, that she could do better. So she did,” Marvyn explains. “Your turn.”

“Same,” she utters, wanting nothing to do with this conversation any longer, “He realized he could do better.”

“Why?” He pushes once more, his stubbornness starting to set Holly’s nerves on fire.

“None of your business,” she says, her voice laced with more attitude than she intended.

“If it speaks to your character, it is my business.”

Looking down at her lap, Holly lets out a quick breath. She has her back up again the door of the closet, refusing to expose the skeletons locked in there. Her marital past is not something she’s particularly proud of or that she looks back on with much joy. It’s hard to talk about without feeling embarrassed, feeling ashamed that she had an affair with a man named Matt, who happened to be her husband’s best friend.

The neglect from her husband eventually pushed her over the edge to do what she would never forgive herself for. The person who was supposed to love her the most in this world stopping caring. She was left unfulfilled and disconnected from the man she once loved. He was absent. Even when he was there, he wasn’t actually there. They didn’t even bother to fight anymore. They simply coexisted in a house that no longer felt like home.

She really wasn’t thinking at all when it happened the first time. She had an itch to scratch, and Matt was there.

“I cheated on him,” Holly discloses finally, “I had an affair. Worst thing a spouse can do, I suppose. Short of neglect, maybe,” she explains, purposefully vague, hoping he doesn’t interrogate her further.

“Are you saying my betrayal was worse?” he asks, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I’m saying his was worse. But yeah, yours too, I guess, if that's what you're guilty of.” The weight of her words hangs in the air between them. He watches as she shifts once more in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with the level of openness of the conversation.

Holly sighs. “Wow. This is a really nice ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’,” she says with a subtle bite of sarcasm, avoiding his gaze and reaching for her beer.

“This isn't a ‘How do you do? Let's get a beer’. You have an agenda.” She rolls her eyes at his accusation, although there is some truth to it. She does have something she wants to talk to him about. “You clearly have an agenda, so get to it.”

“You are profoundly unlikable. You know that, right?” She doesn’t even try to hide the sourness of her tone.

“You're just scratching the surface. If you have something to say to me, please say it. 'Cause I'd like to get back and work on the Laguna game.”

God, he’s so fucking persistent. “Okay.” She set aside her beer, leaning in towards him. “Marvyn, these are high school girls we are working with. I know your tried-and-tested ways of coaching got you far at the collegiate level, but these girls can’t be treated like they are men in college.”

“And why not?” Her point evidently went right over his head.

“Because they are different. They don’t handle criticism like those men do. They take things personal. They won’t be responsive to your derogatory, hotheaded way of giving feedback or your ‘my way or the highway’ mentality. These girls need to be inspired and supported, not embarrassed and disrespected. These girls don’t just kiss the ring. If they aren’t respected, they are going to try to get the upper hand. And they are quite good at it.”

“They’re not gonna get the upper hand with me,” he counters.

“Look at how scared of this you are.” She can’t understand how it’s so hard to just receive these girls as the complex people they are. This team won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t let go of all his unreasonable preconceptions and connect with these girls. He’s so stuck in this mindset that the team is beneath his abilities that he doesn’t realize he could actually learn something from these girls. And he shouldn’t be afraid of that. Holly is always learning new things from her students and players. When is Marvyn going to get it through his head that he can learn from these girls just as much as they can learn from him? It’s a two-way street.

“This is another thing. You don’t know me,” he snaps defensively, “so don’t pretend that you know me.”

“I don’t want to know you,” she says coolly, “I just want what’s best for the team,” she assures him, feigning sincerity, telling him exactly what he wants to hear whether it’s what she wants to say or not.

“Yeah.” He nods his head, thinking she’s finally seeing things from his point of view.

“Is that a good answer?” she asks as she raises her eyebrows, revealing the insincerity of her previous words. His face drops, catching on to her little game. She’s irritatingly clever.

The conversation comes to a quick end, interrupted by the other patrons of the bar cheering and applauding, celebrating a touchdown in the football game playing on all of the TVs.

They find themselves back in that same booth at the same sports bar the next night. As they sip on their beers, Marvyn expresses his doubts about coaching this team, telling Holly that he just doesn’t think he can do it.

“What else?” he asks after bringing up everything that’s happened with the girls in just his two first days, speaking so frantically Holly could hardly keep up. “What the hell else?” His apparent distress over coaching a bunch of high school girls makes her laugh. You would think the world was coming to an end based on how he was acting.

“I know. You're not prepared. Welcome to high school,” she quips.

“I- I had no idea what I was in for.”

Clearly.

[ficsxreaderr]

Music to my eyes [7]

OKAY I AM BACK, NOT THAT ANYONE MISSED ME BUT HERE IT IS. LOVE Y'ALL

Pairing: Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. (Modern day AU)

Summary: As a simple worker at a record store, there’s so much  you want to do in life yet, which doesn’t involve a serious relationship  and much less a relationship with a guy who’s a father. Once you meet  Bucky Barnes you’re not sure you can live up to that anymore.

Requests are open. Tagging for a permanent list and this fic are open.

Reblogging and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

Series masterlist | Masterlist

“Sam, you better come here and help me get ready.” You tell him on the phone as you prepare your first cup of coffee of the day, on Steve’s wedding day.

“But I’m one of the groomsmen, we got to be there early because you’re my plus one.”

“I’m a punctual woman, I thought you knew that. Come on, you got to help me with my hair and tell me how the dress looks.”

“Alright, but I’ll be rushing you, you have to know that.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Right after you’ve taken a shower, you hear a knock on your door, knowing it’s Sam. Putting on your bathrobe and a towel to dry your hair, you walk out of the bathroom and get the door.

“Please tell me you’re not going dressed like that.” Sam says the second you open. You roll your eyes at him and step aside to let him in.

“Can I get you anything? Did you have lunch already?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen and pour each of you a glass of lemonade.

“Yeah, I ate something on my way here, figured you wouldn’t want to eat while doing your makeup.” He says, stepping into the kitchen after he’s put his tux on the hanger.

“Good choice.” You nod as both of you take a sip of lemonade. Both of you make your way to your room, where you’ve set everything you need to get ready.

“Wow, women really are complicated, huh?” He says as he stops to look around. “Where do you even start?”

“I’ll start with my makeup and you start with my hair.” You shrug as you sit on your stool and take off the towel from your head. He walks in and chuckles, and he takes the hair dryer to plug it in.

“Y/N, are we going to talk about…well, you know what.” He asks as you start ordering your things and decide not to look at him, knowing you’re still trying to avoid the subject.

“I don’t know, Sam, I…I feel like an idiot. Dry my hair and I’ll think about it meanwhile.” He shakes his head and does as you say.

Once your hair is dry and you’ve started with your makeup, he waits for the hair straightener to heat as he sits on the edge on the bed.

“Can we talk about it now?” He says, more amused that serious.

“Sam!” You scream, turning around in your stool. “What is there to talk about? I…messed up.” You go back to your makeup and he stands behind you, grabbing the straightener to see if it’s heated. “What has he said? No, wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“He misses you, he wishes he’d never try to kiss you if he’d known it just drive you away.” He says as he starts straightening your hair.

“But that’s not why I left, Sam, not exactly. I wanted to walk away even before that…”

“But it was really bad timing, you know, I’m sorry to say it…”

“No, you’re right, I looked like a jerk, but…I didn’t want to hurt him. Just wanted to do what was right…for everyone.”

“And what exactly is that? You’re not happy, he’s not happy, and Sarah certainly isn’t…”

“Yeah, I know that, too…I messed up, I told you. He’s never talking to me again and I can’t blame him.”

/

Sam has kindly let you use his hotel room so you can change and add the finishing touches to your makeup. At the sight of the amazing hotel Peggy and Steve have booked, you wonder how on Earth they could ever afford it, you could never. Only Sam’s room is huge, it makes you think what the bridal suite must be like. You settle your bag on the bed and your makeup on the marquee, welcoming the soft rug beneath your bare feet. Hanging the dress on a hanger by the door, you unzip its cover bag and stare at it for a moment, thinking it was an amazing choice for this night. It doesn’t matter how awful you feel for what you did, you’re still intending to fix it, but it scares you that he might not even want to hear you or that if he does, that he turns you down. And it wouldn’t even surprise you.

After you’ve made the finishing touches to your makeup, you finally put your dress on, sliding it carefully up your body. Staring at your reflection, you love how the dress hugs every curve of your body, how the thin straps leave your chest uncovered and with a gentle turn, you can see how the half of your back is uncovered, just like you wanted it to. The rosewood satin suits you just perfectly but there’s just one problem, you can’t zip this dress on your own, and you curse Sam for leaving you at the moment. You hear the door to the contiguous room open and you’re glad Sam’s finally back.

Without turning around, you speak, “Sam, finally! Would you mind—” You’re interrupted as you see Sam’s not the one standing across the room, and you clench the back of your dress in nervousness. Your heart stops beating for a moment and you let out a breath before you pass out. “Bucky, hi, I’m sorry, I—”

“Hi, Y/N, I thought Sam was here.” He clenches his hand around the doorknob, hesitant to say anything else. Bucky freezes at the sight of you for two main reasons: one, he misses you, he misses you like crazy and he didn’t know he wanted you that much in his life until the day you stopped calling and visiting; and, two, even with the zipper undone, the dress you picked for tonight is definitely Bucky’s greatest weakness. He’s not sure if you look more beautiful because he hasn’t seen you in so long or because you really know how to dress for a wedding, but he is certain that he’s never been more in love with you than right now.

“He…let me use his room to get ready.” You clear your throat. A moment goes by in complete silence, it feels like an eternity, until he decides to speak.

“I-I can help you…with your dress.” He finally lets go of the doorknob and you notice him fidgeting his fingers. Your mouth goes dry and you need to swallow to gain some composure.

“Thanks, that’d be great.” You nod and wait as he steps inside the room and slowly walks towards you. All the tension of this moment let you forget how handsome he looks in that tux, how his perfectly combed hair and not-so-elegant-but-still-attractive stubble adorn his features and how lucky whoever’s walking with him down the aisle is. Once he’s inches away from you, you turn around so he can zip up your dress. Looking down at your feet, you’re afraid to look in the mirror and meet his eyes there. He is distracted, for a moment, by your intoxicating scent and how soft and glowing your skin looks as the afternoon sunlight that slips through the drapes hits it. You let go off the fabric, and he slowly zips it, careful not to pinch your skin or ruin your dress for that matter. Turning around, you feel a bit dizzy, not sure why, but you find Bucky’s eyes staring at you, a few inches apart now, and you can’t get your brain to articulate even one word.

“How have you been?” You ask after what seemed like hours and he replies almost instantly,

“I’m okay…I mean, I’ve been great, spending a lot of time with Sarah and…everyone else.” He nods, and he really sounds like he’s been doing alright, like he hasn’t missed you like you’ve missed him. Maybe he is better off without you. “You look…amazing.” His weak heart betrays him, and he blurts it out. “H-how have you been?”

“Thanks.” You offer a small smile. “I guess I’ve been okay,” You shrug, unable to hide how you’ve not been okay. “I was really excited about this wedding, Peggy and Steve are-”

“Made for each other.” He interrupts you and you swear there’s a trace of a smile on his face.

“Exactly.” You nod and sigh before saying what’s been killing you inside, even if it will hurt if it doesn’t go as you want it to. “Bucky, I need to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He nods. “I…I think I need to say some things too.”

“I know and…” You sit on the bed and he quickly follows so you’re facing each other. “I’m really sorry for what I did, I didn’t want you to think that I walked away because you…tried to kiss me. It’s not like that.”

“Then what happened, Y/N? ‘Cause I really feel like I messed everything up and I didn’t want things to happen like that, it was all good with us.”

“Since I met you, I knew there was something about you…and when I found out you had a kid-”

“Of course, I knew it…” He stands up, running a hand through his hair, but you’re quick to grab his wrist and make him stop.

“Bucky, no, I know what you’re thinking, just let me finish.” He sits down again, and now it really hurts to see the look on his face, how saddened he seems after what you said; you never wanted to be the cause of that. “Bucky, there’s…a lot I want to do in my life, in fact, there’s barely anything I’ve actually done and…I’ve always wanted to make room for someone that came into my life so we could share everything together. But I got scared and that’s the only word I can find because I am, in fact, a coward. I’ve never thought of having a family, it’s never been in my plans or my dreams, but when I started having feelings for you I…all I wanted was to be with you and with Sarah, no matter what. But it scares me that I can’t keep up with the life you have…because it’s still not…the life I want. And I walked away because…I couldn’t control what I felt anymore, and I didn’t want you to get hurt if I stayed longer…and I also didn’t want to hurt myself.” You both stare for a moment at each other, and his expression changes, he relaxes and his eyes shine a tiny bit…but you know it’s there, the slight hope that he might not hate you and that he will forgive you for treating him so poorly.

“It was so hard to see you didn’t come back or called…or texted. I figured I messed everything up and I’d just lost you. The last thing I wanted was to look for you because I thought I could only make it worse-”

“Before you continue…let me just say that you have nothing to be sorry about, I didn’t expect anything and not because I didn’t expect it from you, it’s just that I ruined it and it was obvious that no one would want to look for me after that.”

“I just want you back in my life, Y/N, I’ve missed you and even if nothing happens between us…I miss my friend, too. And the reason I combed my hair like this is because I need a haircut, and no one understands my hair like you do.” He says as he runs a hand through his hair, chuckling. It makes you laugh, and oh, how you missed this feeling of him making dumb jokes and you hitting his arm ridiculously hard.

“So, you’re only looking for a haircut? ‘Cause I’m going to start charging you if you don’t want to be my friend.” You cross your arms and bite your lip as you amuse yourself looking at the scared look he puts on.

“No! That’s not it! I…miss everything.” He blushes as you chuckle, the one thing you could watch forever: his blushed, stubble-covered cheeks. “Sarah misses you, too, a lot.” Your heart melts when you hear those words, because as much as you were never a ‘kids’ person’, Sarah is certainly the exception, but what could you expect? She was raised by a guy like him.

“Aw, Buck.” You shake your head with a small smile. “I miss both of you, too.” He takes a deep breath and smiles broadly, making you do it too, because for so long you hadn’t seen that and it’s such a weight off your shoulders to finally talk things through.

“So…will you dance with me tonight? I was really looking forward to this, you know.” His almost apologetic frown makes you smile broadly and before you know it, you’ve taken his hand in yours and you notice how he flinches.

“I’m sure we can dance at least one song…unless your date isn’t so fond of the idea.” You suggest, hoping deep down he didn’t bring one, because you didn’t even think of bringing one yourself.

“I didn’t bring a date.” He quickly shrugs and it makes you let out a breath. “Did you?”

“If you consider Sam a date, then I did.” You reply as you chuckle, both of you knowing what a big joke that is, so you make him laugh.

“I’m going to have to borrow you from him, then.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and both of you smile at each other. “Thanks for talking to me.”

“Thanks for…listening, I know I probably didn’t deserve it but…”

“No, don’t say that, I know you really are sorry.”

“I am.” You nod in reassurance.

/

After the lovely ceremony, which you didn’t expect less from, you’ve moved to the reception where apparently Peggy picked up the most beautiful decorations and colors, and you feel like you’re inside of a magazine…a magazine you’re probably never going to buy but you’ve surely seen enough of. Sipping your drink, watching all the couples dancing and smiling at each other makes you smile, too. You glance at Sam as he’s most likely hitting on a bridesmaid, which actually doesn’t surprise you, and she seems to be having a great time, too. You shake your head as Sam glances back at you and he nods in your direction, making you frown at him. As you take another sip of your drink, you’re startled by a low voice talking behind you,

“I knew you didn’t bring a date but I didn’t think you’d be sitting down for this.” You stand up and turn to see Bucky with his hands in his pockets and with a billion-dollar smile.

“Heels are a pain, you know? I stand for five minutes and I have to sit down for fifteen.” You put your hands on your hips.

“And are those 15 over?”

“You know what, they are.” You nod with a smile.

“Good, five minutes is enough for a song.” He shrugs

“Of course I could dance barefoot, I’m a much better dancer without these things.”

“And that would give us more than five minutes.” He says as he takes a few steps until he’s closer to you, letting you drown in the blue of his eyes. Your gaze meets his and he gives you that lopsided grin you’ve fallen in love with all this time.

“A lot more, I think.” You almost murmur and he offers his hand with his palm up so you can take it. You smile at him and tangle your fingers with his.

“Aren’t you gonna take off your heels?”

“You’re too tall for me, I’ll take them off when my feet hurt.” You shrug and both of you walk to the dance floor. He wanted to fight the urge to put his arm around you, but he couldn’t, you were too close to him and he had waited for this for too long now, he wasn’t going to wait any longer. The warm feeling of his hand through your dress made you stiffen, and you looked up at him in reassurance. He smiled at you and squeezed your waist gently before leading you to start dancing. His timing was so accurate that the song is slow but fun to dance to, but then again, any song would be fun with him around. The way he easily sways with you at a rhythm that feels choreographed is unbelievable, it’s like both of you were so made for each other that even dancing seems like the easiest thing with him.

“You know your friends are gonna give you a lot of crap later, right?”

“I’d be an idiot if I didn’t know that, but I’m willing to pay that price. I’m hoping I don’t have to see them later, though.” He quirks up an eyebrow, suggestively and you smile at that, knowing exactly what he meant.

“You’re quite optimistic.” You nod and make him chuckle.

“I like to believe that.”

“I can’t believe I missed so much time with you for being so stubborn.” You shake your head and he frowns.

It’s like you just agreed to say nothing anymore and your gazes meet, as easily as they always did. This kind of heart rush you’ve only felt it a few times in your life and one of them was the day he tried to kiss you and you fucking ran away. It’s the most beautiful feeling, especially with him, because you know what’s coming and you can’t but enjoy every second you stare at each other and your faces draw closer to each other’s until your noses brush against each other’s.

“I’m really going to kiss you, you know.” He murmurs against your lips.

“I know.” You reply almost silently, until he finally presses his lips against yours and you kiss him back with an easiness that you could only feel with him. He brings your body closer to his, if that’s possible, and you slowly put your arms around his neck, clinging to him as if it could make this moment last longer. Many people are watching, but that’s not a concern for you right now because after all this time and after all those nights wondering if Bucky would ever come back to you, this is all you’ve wanted and there’s nothing that can ruin this. His hands clench around your waist and it really feels that you’re his and he’s yours finally, the kiss is long, but not long enough for your liking and he slowly pulls away, unable to erase his smile.

“Well, that’s new.” You murmur with a wide grin, making him chuckle and look down, trying to hide his blushed cheeks. “If I got paid for every time you blushed…” You add, making him look up again and stare as he bites his lip.

“It’s your fault, I can’t control that!” He says almost laughing, and you laugh too as both of you have forgotten you were dancing in the first place. Looking around you, you take Bucky’s hand in yours and lead him out of the dance floor and out of the room, hoping that not many people saw you, but then again, it doesn’t really matter to you. You get to an empty, wide hallway and find a wide couch where you sit, taking off your heels.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He puts his fists on his hips, chuckling.

“Come here,” You tap the cushion. He chuckles again and joins you, propping his elbow on the back rest, staring at you.

“I just didn’t want everybody looking at us, we’ve been waiting for a moment like this and I don’t want it to be ruined.” You add, putting your legs beneath you, covering them with your long dress. He tilts his head to one side, smiling at you. His blue eyes glow the more you stare at them, and they speak more than anything you could possibly say right now. “You’ve always looked at me like that and I’ve known exactly what you meant.” You reach up to caress his stubble, tracing your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I can’t believe I finally have you, that’s all.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Come here.” He says, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him, until your leg is propped on his lap and he caresses your thigh slow and rhythmically.

“If I fall asleep here, you’re going to have to carry me to Sam’s room, you know.” You say as you rest your head on the backrest and look up at him. He laughs and leans over to kiss you, smiling against your lips.

“I know that, sweetheart.” He nods.

/

Your phone buzzed and buzzed over the bedside table and as sleepy as you were, you couldn’t ignore it. Reaching for your phone, you barely check your notifications, seeing you have countless texts from Sam and a couple missed calls. You realize you’re on 20%, so you decide you’ll text him back whenever you get out of bed and get a charger. Sighing deeply, you shift on your place and stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking of everything that happened the night before and how it all still feels like a dream, like something you’d only made up in your head. With a short glance, you realize he’s still sleeping, rather soundly, and you slowly slide out of the bed, trying not to move him or make any noise. You find your dress lying on the floor, but a dress definitely isn’t a comfortable morning wear, so you put on Bucky’s t-shirt from last night and smile as the smell of his cologne hits your nostrils, still lingering from last night. After having had quite a few drinks and very hasty night, you feel the need to wash your face and clean up a little bit; your makeup still lingers from last night, and it’s not as horrid as you thought it’d be, but you try to remove some stains and whatever makes you look like you woke up with a hangover. You find a little brand-new mouthwash by the sink and use a bit of it, to freshen up. After brushing your hair, you feel you’re now rather decent, and go back to bed. Climbing slowly up the bed, you notice he’s still sleeping and looking so relaxed and at peace. As you cover your body with the duvet, he shifts in his place, sighing deeply as he rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. You watch him as he turns to see you and gives you the biggest smile one can get at this time of the day.

“Good morning.” You smile at him, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes for a second, sighing softly at your touch.

“Morning, doll.” He replies with a deeper voice than you know. “Sleep well?” He asks, with a light frown, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Of course I did, you?” He hums, and props his elbow on the pillow, and you mimic his position.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom wearing only his briefs, letting you admire for a moment his sculpted chest and back, making you curse yourself for waiting so long for this to happen. You assume he went to wash up, too, and as he comes back into the room he stops and frowns. “Are you wearing my t-shirt?” He puts his fists on his hips, making his arms and chest look even better from where you’re sitting.

“Of course I am, I had to get up earlier and it was the first thing I found.” You shrug, and he shakes his head, climbing back on the bed. Both of you sit on the bed, crossing your legs and you stretch out your arms, feeling your back relax right after.

“I must have like five hundred texts from Sam.” He runs a hand through his still messy hair.

“I’m sure I have twice that.” You roll your eyes, thinking about every single joke Sam must be making up right now, saving them for the moment he sees you and Bucky together. Wait…are you two together? What did last night mean? Did it mean anything at all? Your head’s filled with all the questions you’ve wanted to avoid all this time and clearly your face can’t hide your concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?” You shake your head and smile at him, trying to hide whatever’s bugging you.

“Yeah, I was just, um…thinking about…” He stares at you, his eyes glistening in the way they always do when he’s around you. He always looks you in the eye when he listens to you, he’s a great listener. You gaze at him for a moment and remember every single moment he’s made you feel as if you’re floating, of every time you thought of him when buying a CD or a record and how he would like it when he borrowed it from you, when you watched him make Sarah her favorite waffles and every Saturday breakfast you shared. There was nothing you could do, you were in love with Bucky Barnes.

“About…what an idiot I am for taking so long to…do this.” He leans over and kisses you, a deep but short kiss, resting his hand on your neck.

“Are you sure? Is that it?” He frowns, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You nod give him a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You sigh and gaze at him for yet another moment, relishing in the peace of this moment. “I had a lot of fun last night…but…” You take a second to think and finally realize that there’s something you need to say now before it’s too late. “I’m scared of hurting you and Sarah, of getting involved in that small family you have there and messing it all up.”

“Y/N, doll, you’re not gonna hurt us, I want to be with you.” He takes your hands in his. “I can take care of myself…and Sarah. And all I know is that being with you is what I’ve wanted since you recommended all those CD’s and records at the store that day.” You narrow your eyes at him, unable to hide the smile he just caused on you.

“Really? Ever since that day?”

“Well, if you didn’t like me that day, then I didn’t like you either.” He holds up his hands. He makes you chuckle; he always makes you laugh. You grab a pillow and hit his head gently, making him fake an Ouch! and hit you back, messing up your hair.

“What are you, eight?” You laugh at him, fixing your hair and faking a judgmental face.

“I have a daughter younger than that, you know.” You chuckle, look down at your knotted fingers, thinking about how someone could ever walk away from him and Sarah and the wonderful home they make, then again, you don’t even know what happened with her, you don’t know who she is, how they met and how he ended up getting Sarah. You barely know anything about them and all the uncertainty has caused you the fear you feel right now.

“Y/N, honey, I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” He says, making you look up at him. “Is it about Sarah?”

“No!” You quickly reply. “No, it’s not Sarah, I…I love that kid.” You assure him. “It’s just the fact that you’re a single dad and…that I still don’t know anything about…”

“Her mother?” He frowns, and it strikes you that maybe this wasn’t the moment to bring that up. You frown, too, nodding but he remains silent for a moment.

“You don’t have to tell me, it’s just that what’s held me back is that I don’t know enough about you and your story and you don’t know a lot of things about me either…”

“I want to tell you, Y/N.” he cuts you off. “I’ve been meaning to tell you but the moments weren’t right or I was afraid of doing it.”

“Which is exactly why you don’t have to tell me, Buck. I’m just always full of fears, even about things that feel…more than right.” You pause. “I don’t want to spoil this moment and last night, so let’s not talk about this for a moment.”

“I just…don’t want you to ever feel afraid of anything when you’re with me.” More than being crystal blue, Bucky’s eyes had a truth and emotion in them that you had never seen before. You’ve trusted people, you’ve believed in somebody’s good heart but not like this.

|Tagging some people I haven't talked to in a while but that I really appreciate (feel free to ask me to remove your tag)

@stuckonjbbarnes @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @babblingbonky @mrwinterr @valkyriesryde @mypassionsarenysins @livyourextralife

Permanent taglist: @imma-new-soul

Fic taglist: @eliza5616 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @93generation

@shawnie--jo @cheeseedreams47

[elleonmybeloved]

The weather on the day of the competition was perfect, nary a cloud in the sky and a warm fresh smelling breeze blew throughout the city of Mondstadt. Everybody was gathered around the archon statue, in front of which a raised wooden platform has been placed as a makeshift stage. The person in charge of the event is just a person who owns an instrument shop in the city, but the real weight behind regulating the event is the group of knights of Favonius that stand guard in the area and enforce safety as well as the rules of the proceedings. There’s no panel of judges. It’s the audience who chooses the winner by writing the name of the bard who gave their favorite performance and placing it inside a wooden box to be counted by the host.

“Ooh, Paimon can’t wait! When are they gonna start already?” Lumine’s floating companion gives an impatient wiggle. “Oh wait, look, here comes the host now!”

The host steps up on the stage, and after a minute the swelling chatter from the crowd dies down to a murmur.

“Greetings citizens of Mondstadt, and welcome to another battle of the bards! It is my pleasure to announce that we will be treated to fifteen performances today. Each contestant will be performing two songs, one preexisting song of their choice, and one of their own. After they have all given their performances, you, the audience, may cast your vote for whoever most greatly moved your heart with their music.” He gives a break for applause.

“May the anemo archon watch over us all! Let the contest begin!” The host steps down off the stage and the first bard takes his place.

One performance after another, the city fills with music. Some chose upbeat, joyous melodies, others slow and mellow ballads, and even some that take a jazzy tune and encourage clapping and dancing from the audience. Lumine is amused to witness what she guesses is a bard commissioned by Stanley to make a song about him and his famous adventures.

By the end of that song, she and the crowd have already memorized the repetitive words and are joining in to shout-sing the great adventurer’s name.

“Good for him, I guess.”

“Paimon thought this was supposed to be emotionally moving music! Geez.”

“They never specified which emotion.” Lumine points out, but before Paimon can quip back, a hush falls over the crowd again as the next bard comes up.

The lanky teen in bright teal that takes the stage is surely Venti, but his prescence feels so different from what she’s used to. Lumine swallows dryly. He’s the one on stage about to perform, so why is she the one feeling nervous all of a sudden?

Venti begins with the first song- Lion Heart, the one about Venessa, the great hero of Mondstadt. The melody flows like the wind but the sound grows and flares like a fire in a grand way that makes her feel as if she herself has been transported back in time and is standing in the middle of a raging war. His voice is strong and unwavering as he effortlessly tackles difficult notes, and his lyre sounds more like the herald of a trumpet than some little church house harp.

When it’s over, the audience whistles and calls out loudly with applause. The man next to her is exclaiming that he has “-Not heard that classic song so masterfully done in decades!” And Lumine has to agree with the sentiment. He could end it right now and still be the one to go home with the prize.

“Oh wooow, who knew the tone-deaf bard could do that! And to think, Paimon didn’t believe him when he said singing was the only thing he did well.”

“Yeah.” She says, squinting at the stage. Venti is setting down his lyre and is taking... something, up to the stage. It looks a bit like a lute, but it’s curved in swirling angles and with it there’s a... straight bow? Nobody else seems puzzled by this, so she figures it’s an instrument native to Teyvat.

He gets into position and Lumine’s heart begins to pound in her chest. Here it comes!

It starts with a deep, resounding hum in a minor key, tamely going above and below the starting note of the chord. The instrument makes a beautifully layered, rich sound that supports the higher and lighter tone of his voice in such a nice way that she instantly understand why he chose to use this instead of his lyre. The melody begins mysterious, and she strains her ears to make out every word.

Venti tells the tale of a forest, ruled by a bird king, a white dove. His voice flutters like the flapping of wings.

The bird king loves his forest, but invaders keep coming in and threatening it. The kings friend, the lizard, drives off the invaders, but the venom of his attack drips to the ground and poisons the forest, causing all the plants to slowly wither and die. The bird king tries everything, but cannot cure the poison, and resigns himself to die with his beloved forest instead of abandoning it, and becomes poisoned as well.

The deep thrum of the stringed instrument waxes somber.

Then, a star falls from the sky, crashing into his forest with a great flash. To the bird king’s surprise, out from the crash site flows light that purifies the poison in the forest, eventually even himself, and the great lizard. He goes to thank the star, but encounters instead a lake of tears and ash.

The bird king asks the fallen star why it laments so. The star says she has lost her ability to fly, and cannot rejoin her friends that soar the heavens. Not being able to fly sounds like the most painful fate the bird king has ever heard, and his heart is moved to help the fallen star.

Lumine recognizes a theme that resembles her song in this part, and then the instrument and Venti’s voice swirl up to a new sound.

The bird king plucks a feather from his own wing, and plants it in the now purified ground. A flower grows, and from it, he plucks a fruit.

He offers the fruit to the fallen star, telling her it is a magical fruit that can restore her power to fly, but it will cause her much pain. She eats the fruit, and is engulfed in a great flame. From the ashes of the fire, she rises, no longer a fallen star, but a phoenix.

The music soars to a climax, shifting from a minor to major key in the last few notes. Then it’s over, and Venti lowers the instrument to take a bow.

The crowd is silent a moment before erupting into applause. Lumine doesn’t know how to feel. She can’t even begin to unpack the meaning of what she just experienced.

Another bard, the next contestant replaces Venti on the stage. Lumine somehow tunes back into the present.

“-and so before I begin my performance I have something to say.” The woman on stage couldn’t be much older than Lumine. There’s something familiar about her. “Unfortunately the song I was about to play has already been played.”

A confused murmur passes through the crowd.

“I got the idea to write a song about a magic forest after being rescued by some adventurers in the Whispering Woods. I worked really ha-“ Her voice breaks on the word. “Worked really hard on it and I was so excited to show it you all today. But I can’t, because he,”

She is lifting a finger at Venti. “Stole my song.”

The host steps forward with an uneasy expression. “That’s quite the accusation. Do you have any proof, Miss...?

“-Solia. Of course I do.” She says, and hands him her notebook. “Here’s where I wrote it. You can even see the drawing I made of the bird who inspired the Bird King.”

“This... does resemble the white cranes in the Whispering Wood.” He admits. Gasps and whispers come from the crowd. Somebody says they always knew Venti was a thief and several others hear that and murmur to each other.

Lumine cannot believe her ears. She can’t see Venti’s expression from here, and she pushes through the crowd to get closer.

“Is what she is saying true, young man? Please be honest.”

Lumine pushes through to the front just as Venti answers him.

“Uheheh, no. If this is meant to be a jest, I’m afraid I must protest.” He just looks really confused. “It’s not that funny.”

“Liar!” Solia cries. “It’s my song!”

Lumine realizes where she’s seen this woman before. Sitting at the base of a windmill, writing in a notebook, a week and a half ago.

“Actually, it’s my song.”

The host looks even more confused as Lumine climbs into the stage and strides over to stand in between Solia and Venti.

“And by that I mean, he wrote it for me while you sat underneath him by the windmill and copied what you heard word for word.”

“Uh, who are you?” Solia is thrown off beat by the exposure, face flushing rapidly. “His -his girlfriend?”

“Enough of this.” The host insists. One of the knights of Favonius is saying something to him. “This young lady is an honorary knight, appointed by Acting Grand Master Jean herself. Miss Solia, if you don’t intend to play your songs, please exit the stage.”

“Huh? But-“ Solia splutters through several half formed protests, but the knight steps towards her and she raises her hands. “I-I’m going.”

Lumine turns to Venti. He looks dazed, like he still can’t believe what happened. “Come on Venti.” She grabs his hand and pulls him with her off stage. “Let’s go.”

They’re a block away before she stops. She is still holding his hand.

She’s at a loss for words. “I can’t believe she did that.”

“It’s okay, Lumine.” He’s already soothing her. “I’m not angry! Eheh... but wow, I should’ve been more careful. I hope it didn’t ruin the song for you.”

“No, not at all!” She shakes her head vehemently, clasping both his hands in hers now. “It was really good. I was really moved. You were so good!”

“Hehe. Thanks.” He’s looking at her grip on his hands.

Lumine realizes and drops them like she’s been burned.

Venti retrieves them and presses one against his cheek and rubs against it.

The question she was about to ask sputters out at the bold gesture.

“You’re so cute.” He croons, and tugs her closer to him. His blue eyes shine with mischief and happiness. “Wanna play a game?”

“Play a- uh yeah, okay!”

“Close your eyes. Open em and you lose~!”

The way he is petting her is very distracting. Lumine closes her eyes and hopes she doesn’t look dumb. She can feel his breath on her face. Her heart lurches in anticipation.

“...”

She cracks an eye open, wondering what’s going on.

“Hey! Come on, you didn’t even last ten seconds!” He complains. “I’m good at this but I’m not that fast.”

The long parts of her hair are in his hands, one side half braided. She realizes he is giving her the same style as him.

“Oh sorry.” She says, and closes her eyes at his pointed look. Lumine holds very still. She feels repetitive little tugs at her hair one side, then the other. Is he finished? Feels like it.

“We match.” His voice is very close.

Pressure pulls her head forward by the braids in a gentle motion. And then there’s a swell of warmth as soft lips press firm against hers and a hand presses against the small of her back.

Lumine was sufficiently fooled into not expecting it, and a chorus of butterflies rise in her stomach as Venti pulls back and kisses her again.

Elation fills her at the confirmed prospect of his feelings and her cautiously withheld affection for him breaks free. Lumine presses a hand to the back of Venti’s neck to bring their lips even closer together.

They take turns swapping sweet kisses until they are both breathless and love-drunk. Venti isn’t there to hear himself win first place.

[demonslayedher]

Your content on Kny is interesting, being a Kny fan I would like to share a cusiority. During the final battle did you notice that the Hashira were passive about the death of some? When Shinobu died only Tanjiro had a reaction because of how busy he was; Mitsuri didn't seem sad and when Iguro remembered who died in the middle of the final battle he didn't even mention her. What did you think? It would have been nice if Gotouge had shown us what the Hashira's thought when the others died

[cont.] I'm the anonymous person who asked you the question about the Hashira who fell in the fight, Tumblr makes people write very little. Apart from Tanjiro they seemed cold to me, even for Tokito; the only one affected was Himejima; when always Iguro mentioned him during the clash with Muzan it was like he was thinking normally. There wasn't time to mourn for the dead but I was expecting a slightly deeper reaction. Anyway for Shinobu yes there was Inosuke and Kanao but the pillars are important too

  Thank you for the Ask, time to get into it! This served as a good excuse to flip back through of a lot of the later volumes... or rather, a huge chunk of the series. Short Answer: I don’t think Mitsuri knew about Shinobu’s death.  Longer Answer: A walk-through of the Pillars’ situations in the final showdown and a partial analysis of Kimetsu-style story pacing. 

Disclaimer: I finished this around 2am. I chose to leave it rambling and unedited and typo-ridden. HAVE MY FEELS, I’M DISHING THEM.

(Disclaimer: This isn’t meant to be a plug for my own fics, but since they are born out of my emotional experience of canon, mentions will make their way in. U fu fu.) First, absolutely yes on there being no time to mourn. From the moment the Ubuyashiki Mansion blows up in volume 16 to the actual end of the fighting in volume 23, that is one hell of a night; this final arc(s) had NO CHILL. Like, wow. It’s been a long time since I followed another battle-driven manga, but that seems like a lot, especially for a relatively short series.  And I was initially happy to dismiss all the lack of satisfying sadness as being due to the fact that they are in *PANIC MODE* and entirely focused on fighting, but that is also not necessarily the case; they do come off slightly cold.  I want to touch a bit on what we want to see the characters mourn each other, but also why I think it works out a bit better that we didn’t; from a purely narrative standpoint.  LET THEM BE SAD: Parasocial Needs Science says we form bonds with fictional characters that affect our brains in very similar and impactful ways, so our feelings are legit when they get killed off. It affects us like a breakup or other goodbye and makes us crave closure.  As for my own assumptions, we look for proxy characters in-universe to give those characters we love the attention we wish to; their sadness validates our sadness, watching them get emotional can be super cathartic, and a good mourning arc can provide satisfying closure.  This is something we got with Rengoku, canonically loved by like, everyone. Hell, even the guy who killed him was sad. Just to rub salt into it, the most recent fanbook that includes a section about how the Pillars see each other, and it drives home that even if we never saw much or any canon interaction between him and any other given character, they’re all like, “Oh yeah, Rengoku, he’s a great guy.”  And, he’s the only character we really get space to mourn, pacing-wise. First, because of when it happens in the plot, this gives the story time to show us each and everyone one of the Pillars hearing the news; it gives them times to process it (which Tokitou clearly needed), and most of us, it takes us in depth through how it affects Tanjirou, our main character whose emotions that we, the readers, are most in touch with. Rengoku got star treatment in the way he was mourned, and we readers get to lap that up.  So then when we don’t get that in-universe star mourning treatment, it does feel a bit jarring by comparison. Gotouge did say she was sorry to hurt everyone, but these are the conditions the little humans were up against all along and a point driven home again and again; even with power on par with demons through the attainment of a mark; even Pillars are just breakable humans who will never be able to regenerate like demons can, hence why their stakes are so much higher in every battle they go into. Furthermore, the Pillars are more ready for this than anyone else, they of all the characters would be the best at keeping their emotions in check in the heat of a battle.  Which means they had to keep them in check for seven volumes of near constant battle, love it or hate it.  KIMETSU LOGIC: The Writing Sins That Make This Manga What It Is I could go on and on and on and on about the writing sins this manga commits and how it shows that it’s Gotouge’s first time writing something of this length. In manga not all of it can be blamed on the author alone because the editors have a very significant influence, but yeah, this is not the most amazingly crafted story out there, by a long shot.  Would I change any of it, though? Well, a few things, yes, of course, out of personal preference. But on the whole, no. It’s the collective errors that stamp KnY with its style and make it what it is, and I find it as endearing as all the randomly super goofy art.  Now, when it comes to the lack of Pillars reacting to new of each others’ deaths, I wouldn’t necessarily classify that itself as a fault, and if I were Gotouge’s editor, I probably would have encouraged her to keep it to a minimum too. After all, I would be considered with selling a new shot of tension with every week’s installment to keep any readers from getting bored with the constant battle. And dang it, THAT TENSION WAS HIGH, those battles were remarkably emotional and tense through and through.  The breaks in tension that we got were necessarily and not distracting, with the notable exception of Iguro’s past. That was clumsy placement. I’ll be honest, I didn’t bond with Iguro as much as a character because he lost his earlier chances to be appealing to me, and by the time the chapter with his flashback came out, I DIDN’T CARE, I waited anxiously all week to see what was happening to Tanjiro and was invested enough to have an appetite for the additional Sumiyoshi and Yoriichi bits, but dang it, Snake Pillar was getting in the way of what my emotions were primed for at that point.  But, such is the way of fickle weekly readers; with THAT MUCH tension going on, readers crave a little breather here and there with a look at who else might taking in a breather in a flashback. We got bits and pieces of that mostly through flashback, like Tamayo’s memories of conversation with Shinobu experienced in real time through Muzan, as well as in-real-time moments with the characters having very slight chances to catch their breath (no pun intended).  But, how well those breaths worked depending on each character, and how the readers’ emotions were getting slammed week to week. Just like how I as a weekly reader (by that point) had no appetite for an Iguro flashback while eager to move forward, there likewise would have been limited appetite for mourning, and we’re stuck with who we got as proxy characters to react through.  ACTION, REACTION: The Rhythm of Basic Writing Advice It has often been said that in writing, something should happen in a scene, and the next scene should be a reaction to it. In the next scene something new happens, and likewise, there is a reaction. We could also thing of this as stages within the same scene, like the part when the music changes or the moment the battle has ended but we’re still on the battlefield.  In Rengoku’s case, we got one big happening, and then a whole lot of reaction drizzled through the story after that.  In the Infinity Fortress case, we get a big happening with the Ubuyashiki Mansion blowing up and then--a big happening!--a big happening!--a big happening--! A--uh oh, there’s a reactio---NEVERMIND, THINGS ARE STILL HAPPENING, GOTOUGE, PLEASE, THIS HURTS, OW, OW, HOW ARE YOU SO CRUEL, WE GET IT, THIS SITUATION IS AWFUL, PLEASE STOP HURTING THEM---

The reactions are there, scattered throughout. They’re short, but they sure make themselves count.  While Tanjirou is our Empathy Personified hero, it’s natural that we get more of his reactions, but the lack of them in other characters is, I would say, a natural fault of having a huge cast to work with it. Once you start dragging too many other characters into the reactions, the actions have trouble moving forward, and with the level of seven volumes worth of tension it’s the actions that keep readers hooked and buying magazines.  THEY’RE ONLY CORVIDS, OK: Now We’re Actually Looking At Canon Details Now that all being said, although it’s easy to dismiss a lot of Kimetsu Logic as amateurish at first, on further reflection, the little worldbuilding logic does excuse itself for not plunging each of the characters into a period of reaction to actions happening elsewhere.  Not all the birds had Yushiro’s papers. Not all birds were created equal. It’s really hard to navigate that place. Ergo, communication was probably highly imperfect; not all the crows knew everything going on. We don’t feel that as readers because we’re seeing Kiriya and his sisters get all the available communications.  In Iguro and Mitsuri’s case in particular, I suspect that might not even had been Mitsuri’s crow (as that one has a distinct personality and accessory) giving her orders to gather where Muzan is. It was probably any old down-to-business crow working with the information it had as clearly as it could in the battle that was most difficult to physically navigate. If Mitsuri’s crow (named Urara in the most recent fanbook) had been there, I imagine she’d have been having difficulty that whole time to even stay within a close range of that battle. Furthermore, a crow like that with a strong bond with Mitsuri might had also judged that telling her about Shinobu’s death was a dangerous distraction, and chosen to withhold information.  The fanbook specifies that Iguro’s crow Yuuan was the one who told him about how Tokitou got a red blade (in fact, this is basically the only thing said of this crow besides its name and gender). To able to report in such detail that Iguro could analyze that Tokitou attained the red blade by the strength of his grip, that probably quite an accomplishment to have either witnessed that much, or to pass on crucial information that detailed and quickly. At that time, Iguro and Mitsuri were physically separated and she was distracted by the crow giving her orders to gather where Muzan was, so she might not even have overheard that Tokitou had died. As for Iguro, the second fanbook tells us that because Tokitou was young he had hoped he wouldn’t die. There was no opportunity to mourn him, and they weren’t close enough for that to throw him off much from battle, but on a Pillar to Pillar level, I think the amount of thought Iguro did dedicated to Tokitou showed a certain level of esteem for him and regret at this passing.  What would have been nice? Maybe a little look over his shoulder to Mitsuri like “I hope she didn’t hear that.” That would have revealed a tender side of Iguro in a very short use of panels.  I want to come back to analyzing Mitsuri’s reaction later, so let’s keep focusing on the loss of Tokitou. Once he attained more of his sense of self back, it seems he preferred the company of Corp Members closed to him in age (if we go by his little flashbacks, which in true Kimetsu Logic, are things we didn’t know about until they come up in flashbacks). Most of the Pillars weren’t especially close with him, even if they did care about his wellbeing, as they seemed particular aware of how young he was. Sanemi probably had never interacted much with Tokitou until that battle, and *OKAY, HERE IT IS, THE UPCOMING FANFIC SELF-PLUG* one of the things I really liked working with in my post-canon fic is that there’s a point at which thinking about Tokitou forces Sanemi to deal with all the trauma he’s buried from that battle. I figure it would hit him later; he had a good excuse of a distraction. Ugh. Man. My heart hurts again thinking of that chapter.  Let’s also not forget, after Himejima showed his respects for Tokitou both quickly and sincerely, he couldn’t allow Sanemi to deal with Genya’s death until after everything was over. All the Pillars had to think like this.  What would had been nice? I liked this reaction scene to two simultaneous and horrific deaths exactly as it was. Ow. Ahhhh. Owwwwww, it’s hurting again. This is catharsis exactly the way I like it.  Let’s keep going with Himejima, the only one to have known to expect all this, and who stayed ready and likely hoped to bring down Muzan all by himself without any other sacrifices (welp, so much for that). There’s a scene in the novels that implies he had some idea that Shinobu wasn’t intending to make it out of the upcoming battle(s) alive, and I imagine he felt the same regret and bitter acceptance in advance that he also felt with Ubuyashiki. If we heard the news about Shinobu like Tanjirou and Giyuu did, I imagine he was hurt but it wouldn’t have been noticeable, and he probably would not be surprised even at how quickly it happened.  What would had been nice? Anything. Just a “How pitiful” and some tears as he runs through the halls woulda’ been great.  So since Giyuu did hear it loud and clear with Tanjirou, I first want to point out that whether that was Tanjirou’s crow or not (might not had been, because his crow was busy with a letter delivery from Senjurou at the time too), that crow must had loved to shared details; maybe even details that were not necessary. Like, would telling the lower level Corp members everything really help? Wouldn’t the loss of each Pillar make them lose their nerve? Was it because that crow was wearing one of Yushiro’s papers that it had to report extra detail for Ubuyashiki HQ? Whatever the case, Giyuu is initially shocked about Shinobu and then is like, “what is that paper the crow has? It sure is reporting things fast.”  What would have been nice? ANYTHING MORE THAN ONE PANEL OF SHOCK. Come on, Giyuu, give the GiyuuShino shippers S O M E T H I N G. Granted, if Tanjirou had been killed in battle with Akaza, I believe Giyuu would have had an initial outburst of emotion, but then gotten himself under control real quick and stayed that way until it was safe to break down (which he did immediately later on, since the threat was gone--but he was just as soon picking up a sword and stabbing him, so again, Pillar-mode must come before experiencing emotions). I interpret canon as that even though Giyuu might had found it easily to address Shinobu in conversation due to frequency in how much they had conversed and the fact that she would usually talk to him first, he would never had considered himself especially close with her (since he never saw himself close with any of the Pillars). I feel their relationship had potential to grow closer if Giyuu had actually gone out of his way to communicate more with her, and he probably would had if they both survived, but at the time she died he probably still felt a distance, which is why it did him harder when Tanjirou--someone who Giyuu did actually get to a point of enjoying conversation with--was dead right in front of him.  (Side not, oh man, OH MAN, being a weekly reader was so tough then. I still have so many emotions from that week. Oh man. Oof. Ouch.)

Of note, Giyuu had the best opportunity for reflection on a comrade’s death since he had enough recovery time once he woke up to build a fire and treat wounds, and Tanjirou took that chance to read a letter. 

What would have been nice? AGAIN, GIYUU, ANYTHING, but after that battle I think he deserved to disassociate a bit.  Also of note, I don’t know that they had complete information either, because NO ONE (by “no one” I mean Tanjirou and Inosuke) seemed to hear anything about Zenitsu single-handedly killing Upper Moon Six and surviving it. What would had been nice: “Good for you, Zenitsu, I hope you’re okay” or “Six? Again? Didn’t we already do that? There was a third??” or “well I got Upper Moon Two SO THERE” or “..........are you sure?” or even way, way after all is said and done, off in epilogue times, “you fought WHO by YOURSELF???” but I digress. Now back to Shinobu, losing her so early on in this marathon of high-stakes battles made her death seem forever ago by the time we got to another Pillar death. It would had been nice for more of them to react both with “no, not Shinobu!” and “we are in deep trouble” sort of ways. That made the glimpses we got of her in flashback feel way, way more nostalgic, since for our experiences as readers, she had already been gone a very long time. I like that the battle with Douma got stretched over so long a span of the manga, they really showed the stakes in how difficult of a foe he was, even if that battle was itself was relatively shorter than others. And as stand-ins for the readers to mourn Shinobu, I love how we got that both through Kanao and through Inosuke.  But yes, it sure would had been nice to get something from... Mitsuri.  Now, if I had only read the events of canon, manga chapter to manga chapter, and even the Taisho Secrets, I still never would have guessed that Shinobu and Mitsuri had such a warm friendship. I know this purely from the fanbooks and novels, and that is something I find a writing error that detracts a lot from the work. Some of the most apt criticism I’ve heard of the Kimetsu pacing is that it could have stood to give us one of more arc to bond with the characters at least a little more, so we could really, really be emotional over loosing them. We get all our spare Pillar interactions in works outside of canon and after Tanjirou initially gets to know Shinobu, he has no more on-screen interactions with her; she mostly appears in Taisho Secrets.  Pillar Training was fun and all, but maybe another arc with stakes in it that occurs closer to home and brings out some different sides of the Pillars in Tanjirou’s presence, instead of each of them getting one dance each with our protagonist. That would had been a chance to show Shinobu and Mitsuri’s friendship, in which case, we would had really, really wanted to see Mitsuri’s reaction.  But, Mitsuri had a job to do in the very, very, very heavy tension and battles that ran in weekly magazines for months on end. She carried the very heavy weight of needing to provide brevity. Her silliness contrasted against all that tension was fresh air for readers who had been holding their breath (no pun intended! kinda) through so much. And man, our reliance on her for that made it hurt all the more when things suddenly got very serious for her.  But, that means she was also unable to play a heavy emotional role too early on. There wasn’t room to give her a satisfyingly emotional reaction to Shinobu or Tokitou; when after all, this is the girl who was fretting about dearly beloved Oyakata-sama, was horrified to see the explosion, angirly attacked Muzan, but was saved from certain doom almost immediately after she was taken by surprise in the Infinity Fortress, and then she’s BACK TO 100% FANGIRL MODE. Like, giiiiiiiiiirl, Oyakata-sama just diiiiiiied, tone it down a notch.  I feel like I had more to say.  OH YEAH.  WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?: To fanfic, duh.  Going back to reaction and action and producing something with sellable pacing, again, I wouldn’t risk bogging down the tension-heavy final arc with too much open sadness (less is more definitely applies when the reaction scenes were often SO GOOD), but it clearly set up the desire for it. And, the length and intensity with which a work of fiction can live rent-free in audiences’ minds is a measure of its success.  If we MUST turn to fanfiction to get that emotional closure (or force the Pillars to get theirs), then this is proof of a job well done in making us care.   Herein lies the freedom with fanfiction: It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to sell. It doesn’t have to fit a regular serialized format. Fanfic is whatever it wants, all it has to do is indulgently scratch an itch.  I have way more stomach for sappiness in fanfic than in original canon, because I have higher expectations of canon to honor writing conventions, and to make decisions that will serve the overall story, not necessarily cater to my tastes.  But fanfic? Fanfic, you are here to serve me. Dive into those characters’ dry eyes with a jackhammer and gives me their tears. I don’t care how much you have to fry their brains to do it, give it to me.  I mean, I don’t write fanfic like that, noooo. At least, not that I post publicly. Ssh. No one needs to know aaaaaall my particular canon itches I wish to have picked raw. But all the more power to people who DO post that publicly and provide a great service to all the other people with that same need.  But, in the spirit of writing fic that tries to honor the spirit of canon, I try to sprinkle the juicy emotional potential canon could have had around as needed, to draw out what I feel canon just didn’t have the opportunity to give us. It’s ultimately self-servicing for what I wish canon would had done, but my style of published fic does try to stay widely appealing as a gen fic. Everybody’s got their own balances and tastes, and that’s cool.  And that is freedom canon authors don’t have.  I’ll conclude by saying that, although we as readers collectively earned it, the ending of Kimetsu no Yaiba was too bright and happy and specifically chose bittersweet moments that would be easy to swallow (pretty smart for a quick ending), but entirely skipped all the really heavy stuff in the immediate aftermath.

And yes, as difficult (and even dull) as it would be to slog through, there’s a part of me that wants to see all that, for the sake of closure. 

And now I sleep byyyyezzzzzzzzz

[its-vanna]

A Light In All the Darkness

Summary: A night out turns into a night at home and some confessed feelings   

Warnings: A little angsty. No major warning. Might be a few grammar errors.

Word count: 1,438

A little P.S.: I’m trying to get back into writing a bit more. Requests are open for other Marvel characters as well as other movies and shows. Just go ahead and ask and I’ll let you know if i write for them. Thank You! Happy reading :) 

“Hey Buck, are you almost ready? I’ll be ready in 5,” I say finishing the last couple of curls in my hair. I don’t get a response from him, but he’s probably just busy. Things have been going pretty good the last couple of weeks. It’s a Saturday night and I have a family thing. With how well Bucky has been feeling, we thought it’d be a good idea for him to be my plus one for the night. 

After taking one last look in the mirror, I grab my lipstick,  shoving it into the purse I had laying on the bed. As I make my way to the kitchen I notice the apartment is empty.

“Buck?” I call out, but no answer. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little worried. It was a little unlike him to disappear without saying anything. Even if it was just a quick walk to the corner store, he would always let me know. Eventually, I noticed the sliding door to the patio was cracked open.

“There you are. I was looki- oh, sorry,” my voice lowered after I noticed him jump at my sudden appearance at the door.

“Oh, hey Doll,” he turns, acting like I didn’t just scare him. Something about him seemed a little off. 

Almost like his thoughts were somewhere else. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask studying his face for an answer. He frowns a little.

“Nothing,” he lies. I could see that he knew that I knew that was a lie. I can’t say I’ve known Bucky as long as Steve has, but I can say that I know about him just as much as Steve. I first saw Bucky when I was helping Natasha and Steve sort out some stuff when Hydra took over S.H.I.E.L.D. After that, Steve had asked me to help out with getting him away from half of the Avengers. Steve was a good friend of mine, and if he said his best friend was somewhere behind the dark side of the Winter Soldier, then I was going to take his word for it. 

It was hard to really get to know each other before the blip with him going to Wakanda, and then the big war. Also, can’t forget the 5 years in between. But after Steve went back to return the stones, Bucky and I got closer. As cheesy as it sounds, we both lost a friend but found each other. Steve wasn’t wrong about Bucky. Sometimes just I wish he realized it.

“Bucky,” I look at him with pleading eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, as he heads inside. “Don’t we have to go now?” 

“We’re not going until you tell me what's wrong,” I protest.

“Wow Y/n, I’m not 5. I told you I’m fine. So let's go. Don’t wanna be late.” 

“Is it the party? I told you I could just go alone.” I’m pushing. I know I shouldn’t push, I’m sure it has to do with something that must’ve happened earlier in the day, but what if the idea of being at a party is making him anxious. The last thing I would want to do is be the reason he’s upset. But when he shuts down it’s hard to get anything out of him. 

“I told you I was fine,” he flinches as he realizes how loud his voice was. “Can we please just go?” he says, lowering his tone. I didn’t move from where I was standing.

“I’ll meet you in the car,” he rolls his eyes and heads for the door.

“Please don’t shut me out!” I blurt out stopping him in his tracks. 

“I shut everyone out Doll,” he shouts, turning and shutting the door harder than he intended to. “It’s just easier that way.”

“But you don’t have to,” I move towards his direction. “Please, just let me in.”

“For what? I let you in and then you leave too?” That hurt. It hurts to see how much he’s hurting about Steve. I lost a friend after the blip, but Bucky lost his best friend. He lost his best friend during a time when he needed him the most. 

“Bucky, I’m not going anywhere,” I say grabbing one of his hands.

He pulls his hand away and moves towards the couch sitting down.

 “With everything you know about me. Everything I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt. I know I’m not the best to be around. This is the first time we’re going out in what? Months? How do I know that one day you’re not going to get tired of it and just leave? I’d even be tired of me. Hell, I am tired of me.”

“I’m not going anywhere” I argue.

“How do you know?!” he yells.

“Because I love you!” I yell back. We both freeze. Our wide eyed expressions matching each other. A surprise to us both. Those three words are something we’ve never said to each other before. I’ve felt it for a while, but always too scared to say anything.

“You what?” he finally breaks the silence.

“I-I love you?” It comes out more like a question. He falls silent again, and now I’m becoming the stressed out person in the room.

“Bucky, please say something.”

“Really?” He questions me again. This man is really going to make me repeat myself.

“Are you really going to make me say it again? Yes Bucky, I love y-”

“I love you too,” he interrupts . 

“You do?” it was my turn to question the same words I just told him.

“Yes, and that scares me. One minute I’m the Winter Soldier, next minute I’m back with Steve trying to get my life back together and he has this person with him that was such a light in all this darkness. I- I fell in love with you the moment I met you. And it scares me that I’m in love with someone who I can’t be everything they want and need.” 

I couldn’t hold in my laugh.

“Ar- are you laughing at me?” He was looking at me like I was a crazy person. This man just poured his soul out to me, and I was laughing.

“I’m s- I’m sorry,” I finally spit out. “But did we really just yell at each other and then confess our love?”

“We did. Didn't we?” He cringes at how cliche our little moment is, but begins to laugh it off as well. 

I move over to the couch he’s sitting on and take a seat next to him. I grab both of his hands holding them in mine.

“Really Buck, I do love you and I promise you I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what happened today, or what's bothering you, but I won’t make you talk about it now. Just promise me that you’ll let me in. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone”

“Alright,” he says looking down at our hands. I feel him rubbing little circles around my hands with his thumb. “I promise.”

“Hey,” I say, getting his attention and eyes back on mine. “I got an idea.”

“Does it involve something illegal?” he joked

“No,” I roll my eyes. “Why don’t we stay in tonight? I’ll text my sister and say something came up. Maybe say the stomach flu or something.”

“No, it’s your family. We should go,” he protests.

“We can make it to the next one. Trust me, they’ll understand. Plus we got some music to catch up on. Come on, are you really gonna turn down a night of relaxing, listening to music and maybe a little bit of wine with your ‘light in all the darkness?’” I wiggled my eyebrows at him bringing up what he said about me earlier.

“Alright. Ok, you got me,” he laughed.

A few minutes later we’re both in more comfortable clothes. Bucky is picking out a wine from the cabinet while I sit on the floor by the speaker deciding what music we’re going to listen to. 

I make my decision on the music and hit play. Bucky walks in as the sound of “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday plays on the speaker.

“1940’s huh?” he asks, setting the glasses of wine down.

“It’s a favorite,” I shrug. 

“Well,” he says, walking over to where I’m sitting, and reaches his hand out. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’d love to,” I smile and grab his hand. 

As we swayed along to the music, I can feel him begin to relax more. The tension in the room from earlier no longer there. Just Bucky and I in the peace of our apartment, away from anything in the outside world that would threaten it. Even if it was just for a moment.

[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 5 (The End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (The End)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

The Flowers: @call-me-prodigy @annoylinglyaries @zphilophobiaz @comic-brew @biglilwing @awkwardspontaneity @lozzybowe @mariiecapo @distressedearie @diyosku @dracoaereum @thesuitelifeofafangirl @chims-kookies @blade-xingston @danicalifxrnia

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

Notes: Wow that was a fun ride. But every story comes to an end, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter! And thank you everyone who has taken their time to like, comment, and reblog. I appreciate it a lot <3

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Robin visited every other night after that. It was surreal to have a hero that you’ve so long admired become your frequent visitor. Then again, nothing seemed normal anymore.

“It’s past the convention week. How do you keep coming here?” I asked curiously one night.

Robin gave me a lopsided grin and tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways.”

After Mom’s week long leave was up she begrudgingly had to go back to work. The hospital assured her that I was healing fairly well, and that I would be transferred to Gotham Hospital the following weekend.

I was never really lonely though. Besides the friendly staff, my midnight visitor always came right on time. I wondered why he would take the time. Maybe it was to get to know me better? Perhaps my speech that night managed to get through to him. I had hoped it was both.

If I was being honest though, I was a little more than glad he did. I had meant it when I told the boy that I found him intriguing. He was a tough nut to crack though. I couldn’t blame him.

During the day when I would shower, I’d trace the flowers across my frame and wonder just how much he had gone through.

Soul marks start to appear at 10 years of age. You could imagine the shock (and worry) my parents had gone through when they found me one day absolutely covered in flowers.

From a young age I would hide them. Always wearing my sleeves till my palms, my neck constantly covered with either my jacket, scarf or high placed collars. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, but Gotham liked to talk – and when you’re the subject of attention, then you’re an easy target for criminals.

As I got older, the marks around my neck forearms slowly faded. I had worried about my soul mate and their well-being. Now that I understood everything, it was a different type of worry all together. The kind that would sit at the pit of your stomach and tie knots, heavy enough to keep you on edge.

My T.V in the hospital room was always on the same channel, Gotham News. Every battle would have my heart clenching as the camera’s desperately tried to follow the fight. Most of the time’s they wouldn’t be able to capture the end, and I’d be left holding my breath.

That’s one other reason I looked forward to our nightly visits. I could relax knowing he was alright.

I still wasn’t sure what I felt for this enigma of a person. But I knew that I wanted to get closer.

“I have an idea.” Robin said one evening. There was a glint his eye, the mask was off since my mom wasn’t around anymore. “And it’s got something to do with your invention.”

I arched a brow. “The bullets are complete but I still have yet to finalize the counter measures.”

He nodded understandingly. “Counter affect can wait. We don’t want to encase anyone in rock at the moment, but I’m putting it out there since you wanted to help.”

Intrigued, I urged him to continue.

Damian was quite brilliant in his own way. After much thought and planning, we had about 3 more types of chemically enhanced concoctions laid out. All of which were to go through Batman before beginning the experimentation process. He has assured me that I would be leading the research team for that under Wayne Ent.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital.

“Do you like sweets?” He asked randomly.

Arching a brow I studied him. He was slouched on the couch with his leg dangling on one side and a book in his hands.

Charles Dickens.

“Yes.” I said, noting his obvious attempt to look natural. “Do you?”

“On occasion.” The boy shifted a shoulder to mimic a shrug.

The very next visit he had a black bag slung across his shoulder. His face gave nothing away but from the times I’ve spent with him, I realised it was his eyes that did most of the talking.

“Whatcha got over there?” I asked curiously, scooting closer to him at the edge of the bed.

“Patience.” He said and pulled up the make shift table that was attached to the side of my bed. Placing a medium sized box on top, he carefully undid the lid and opened it. “I present to you, baklavas.”

In the dim light I saw that they were flaky, almost like a croissant. There were some with a mix of nuts, from pistachios to almonds. Others were plain but still looked heavenly. They gleamed with a moistness, as if coated with a syrupy substance. I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

It burst with flavour and dissolved much too fast. I squeaked at the exotic taste.

“Oh my gosh these are so good.” I said, licking my thumb.

Robin looked pleased.

“You should have one.” I pushed the box towards him but he shook his head.

“They’re yours.” He said.

“Nonsense. Food always taste better when shared.” I picked another one up intending to eat it.

“If you insist.”

I had barely managed to register the wicked glint in his eye before he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand that was holding the sweet close to his mouth. He took it carefully from me in one easy motion and lightly licked my finger.

“You’re right. It does taste better when shared.”

I felt the burn on my cheeks and ears before I heard the warning blare of the heart monitor. Immediately, Robin slipped behind the couch just as the nurses for the nightshift burst into my room in a panic. They fussed over me as I repeatedly tried to tell them I was alright. My heart finally calmed and once they left, Robin got up covering his mouth. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

-x-x-x-

The weekend came much faster than I had anticipated. When the doctors checked on my progress, they gave the thumbs up for me to be transferred to Gotham’s hospital.  Mom was relieved, and wouldn’t stop fussing over me when we got there. I let it be though, thinking it was more for her own peace of mind than mine.

After that it was a short two weeks before I was fully discharged.

Robins visits never wavered though. If anything, he had stayed for longer periods of time. I got to know the boy under the mask more than I had hoped for and opened up in return more than I had intended.

I found out his brothers were vigilantes too. He pointed them all out one evening with a family picture he’d secretly stashed in his wallet. They were a “thorn” to his side — as he had so eloquently described, but I could see just how much he loved them. That was another thing I learnt about him, his speech patterns were very posh. He liked to use formal names and slang was not completely in his vocabulary. I asked him about that one time, to which he only replied “another time”. It was probably a touchy subject, where he exactly grew up.

His favourite colour was green, and his adoration for animals was as deep as black hole. It was crazy how perfect my mind painted him to be, and the more I knew, the harder it was to ignore the feelings growing inside me.

He enjoys reading, but would gladly spend the day locked in his room with his tablet and pen drawing the day away. He is good both in traditional and digital art, and sometimes dabbles in graphic design when he feels like it. He prefers his tea without any additives, but would not hesitate to pour bucket loads of milk and sugar in his coffee during the rare moments he drinks it.

I could list everything down but it would just solidify my attraction to him, and honestly I doubt this was he needed right now. Juggling a double life sounded a lot more stressful than he showed it to be. He hardly ever talked about it but from the amount of flowers blooming on me, it was difficult to see it any other way but exhausting. He’d kick butt at night, get hurt, then go to school the very next day like nothing happened.

He arrived one evening like he normally did and I had rushed up to pull off his glove. I felt a sting earlier and found a Sakura branch littered with pink flowers. I was right, his arm was soaked in red, and the gash looked bad.

“It’s just a scratch.” He promised me.

I didn’t reply. Taking him straight to the bathroom, I rinsed out the remaining blood and addressed the wound. After bandaging him up I finally looked into his eyes and showed him just how worried I was.

That evening we sat next to each other, with our fingers intertwined and his thumb randomly brushing against my knuckles.

-x-x-x-

Finally I was able to return home. Being able to lie down on my own bed, inside my own house, I could let loose and properly relax. I threw myself onto the soft comforters that smelled like fabric softener and smiled to myself.

Home sweet home.

But not for long, I reminded myself that this evening I would be dining with the Wayne’s. Swallowing hard, I hurried my face onto the pillows. I can’t mess this up, not after everything they’ve done for me.

Damian’s smirking face suddenly came to mind, and all his welcomed visits. It made my stomach grow warm. Remembering us sharing the sweets he gifted – soft lips against my fingers.

I groaned into the pillow, the room was getting a little hot. Getting up gingerly, as to not aggravate the newly healed stitches, I manoeuvred my way to the window and pushed it open. The cold evening air felt good against my heated skin. I sighed in content.

If I were being honest, I didn’t know what exactly was happening between us. I didn’t know if I wanted anything to happen between us. Wouldn’t it be weird, considering that I’d be interning for his dad in just a couple of months. Possibly work there if my luck doesn’t run out first. Not to mention WHO he was.

You’re just a normal girl, I chided myself. Not someone important enough to stand beside such a prestigious boy and his ridiculously wealthy family.

But even then – I found myself wondering. Seeking. Imagining… What if we were to become something more? What if it works? What if we fall in –

“Y/n!” Mom’s voice broke through my reverie, waking me up from the needless train of thought.

Closing my window, I poked my head out the door and found her putting on a bracelet.

“Are you ready? The cab is nearly here.” She asked.

I nodded and took a step closer to her. Looking quickly at the vanity mirror in the hallway, I gave myself a once over to make sure everything was in place. I had on a slightly fitting turtle neck sweater, paired with a high waisted pleated skirt and dark stockings. On my feet I sported on my boots. It was safe to assume no one would be able to see my soul marks.

My mom grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. I followed close behind her, handing her her coat before locking up the front door.

The cab driver arrived a few minutes in, and we drove off straight to Wayne Manor.

“This is exciting isn’t it?” She said to me with a lift in her voice, as she exited the cab to get the gates opened.

Once we could enter, we were greeted with a very large land that was pristinely kept. The grass was cut evenly, and the trees lining the estate were trimmed to perfection. Bushes were perfectly shaped into different animals, and flowers systematically grown to create swirls and shapes beside the road. A big fountain was situated just in front of the mansion while a man in a black suit waited beside the opened doors.

We exited the cab after paying and did our best to take it all in without looking like fishes out of water.

“Ah, Mrs. & Ms. Y/l/n.” It was the man who I saw pick up Damian that one night in Metropolis appeared. I also remembered him in the family photograph. His accent was thickly laced with British poise. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I shall be you’re attendant for the evening.”

“Thank you.” Mom was quick to compose herself.

As soon as I entered the house I felt my breath stolen away. It was huge. Everything looked so new and polished.

I barely registered my mom and Alfred chatting away as he led her to the dining hall.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I nearly jumped at the voice that startled me. Whipping my head around, I found Jason standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I remember my first time coming in here. Completely floored.” He chucked.

I waved a small greeting. “Everything looks so –“

“Expensive? Exorbitant? Grand?” He tried to guess.

“Beautiful.” I breathed out.

He laughed. “Not what I expected. But you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

I blushed. “Ah, I’m not sure about that. I’m just me.”

“Hey, no stealing our guest before dinner.” Dick walked down the stair case with Tim beside him.

“Feeling better Y/n?” Tim asked as we grouped just below the stairs.

“Yeah, thank you.” I answered, suddenly feeling flustered as they surrounded me.

Stay calm.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dick said with an air of comfort.

I wanted to ask what made him think so, but he answered before I even began to articulate the words.

“You’re fidgeting like a college student during a thesis debate.” He said simply.

“You’re… very good at reading people.” I arched a brow at him.

“One of my many amazing abilities” He winked.

Jason let out an air of playful frustration and pulled Dick aside. “And now you’re stealing her. Can’t hold a normal conversation can you Dickie, always a flirt.”

“First of all – do I need to remind you who mostly does all the talking during dad’s parties. And second of all – I am not a flirt. I can’t help it if I’m charming.” Dick mocked a suave look and shot it as his brother.

Jason looked like he was about to gag and Tim was less than pleased. I laughed at their antics.

“What’s funny?” Damian appeared beside me. I jumped and held a hand to my racing heart.

“Jeez, do all of you have a talent for sneaking up on people?” I wheezed out, trying to gather my bearings.

They all grinned at me without answering.

Robins, my inner muse whispered. I brushed off the thought as quick as it had come.

We had made it to the dining area just in time for Alfred to begin serving the meals. My mother was already chatting up a storm with Mr. Wayne. A wine glass in hand and a slight tint to her cheeks. She looked happy.

I began walking towards the seat beside my mother when Damian pulled out the chair like a gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and mumbled a thank you.

He took the space beside me and the rest of his brothers seated themselves opposite us.

As we opened our plates for dinner, I was amazed to see how well it was presented. Mr. Pennyworth continued to serves other dishes, and once he was done he left the room.

The food tasted just as good as it looked.

Easy conversation wafted around us, the usual topics of school, and future plans. Mr. Wayne brought up the internship which I nearly gushed over due to my excitement. Damian held back a laugh with a cough when he noticed my little slip up before I composed myself again. I bumped his knee under the table and playfully glared at him. He smirked and bumped me back.

“My compliments to the chef Mr. Wayne.” Mom said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He smiled through a glass of wine. How many glasses in were they at this point? Damian and I were the only ones who weren’t allowed so both our glasses were filled with water and juice.

“And, please,” Mr. Wayne continued. “Call me Bruce.”

“Hey, we should give the women a tour.” Dick suggested. “I’m sure you’ll both love it.”

Jason and Tim had excused themselves, and I had an inkling as to what they were up to. Patrols were a common thing, as Damian told me.

And so with Dick and Bruce leading, my mother and I followed as they showed off the grandness of the manor.

I couldn’t help but be awestruck all over again. The library was huge. Their shelves towered from ceiling to floor, and filled with all kinds of books. From novels to more informative documents. I recognised a couple of titles from the times Damian spent the night reading.

The sunroom was next. The glass was near invisible. I took in the sight of the gorgeous garden just beyond the panels, being able to outline a gazebo at the far end with flowers twisting around its pillars. I unconsciously touched my stomach where the stitches were, randomly pondering what kind of flower had bloomed from such a brutal wound.

“Are you okay?” Damian was beside me immediately and his hand supported my elbow. His voice was laced with concern.

“Oh.” I realised what he was talking about and pulled my hand down. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Honey?” My mom’s face pinched in concern. “Is it hurting again?”

“I just need to rest Mom, I’m fine.” I assured her. “You should continue, I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Mom was hesitant but there wasn’t much she could do, and she knew it. So they moved on, but not without Mr. Wayne asking for some painkillers to be brought to me.

After taking the medicine, I thanked ‘Alfred’ (as he had asked me to call him) before he left.

Damian was sitting on the arm rest of the couch. My hand was in his and he rubbed random circles around my knuckles. His brows were furrowed, and his features were set in a deep scowl. I could practically feel the guilt and worry radiating off of him.

“I have to be honest, I thought I’d see more animals around.” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Father asked me to keep Titus in my room for the time-being, he didn’t know how you two would react to a Great Dane, or vice-versa.” The boy said simply.

“Great Dane?” I asked flabbergasted.

The corner of Damian’s lips turned upwards. “When you feel better I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s a date.” I answered before thinking. All at once I realised what I said and felt my cheeks burn. “Ah – I mean, not date. If you aren’t comfortable with that, people just use the word date as a meeting time or –“

“It’s a date.” He brought my fingers up and ghosted his lips over them. I had to hold my breath fearing that my heart would stop.

I was momentarily stunned by his forwardness and calm. Looking away I managed to slow down my heart rate to a regular beat.

“I still need to guess the rest right?” I asked coyly.

He gestured for me to continue.

“Let’s see.” I rested my head on the couch and closed my eyes to recall our conversation back in the ball room. “We’ve got a dog, a cat.”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, moving from the arm rest to the empty space next to me.

My brain brought up an old song from the Princess and the Frog, when they had to ‘Dig a Little Deeper’.

A dog, a pig, a cow, a goat – the lyrics were sung in my subconscious before I could stop it.

“A cow.” I guessed.

Damian’s eyes grew a little wide, before a grin made its way to his lips. “Yes.”

“What seriously?” I giggled. “You actually have a cow?”

“Bat-Cow.” He chuckled. “I was a child, and that was the first name to come up.”

I was full on laughing now. “I cannot wait to meet them. But that was seriously a random guess, now I feel like my confidence is dwindling.”

“Then how about you wait till you see them?” He suggested.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, our knees brushed and I felt that warmth spread across my chest. We’re close. A little too close.

When I looked at him I found he was staring at the garden outside. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was something about this boy that just drew me closer, making me want more. I traced the little moles across his cheek and wondered when I had let this magnetic pull take over me.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Damian commented. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he threw a deviously charming smirk my way.

I blushed and looked away, suddenly finding my shoes a lot more interesting than it was. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He turned towards me. And I made the mistake of facing him again, because now our faces were just mere inches apart.

I found myself gazing at his beautiful green eyes that contrasted so well with his tanned olive skin. There were so many different shades of green looping and mixing with one another, it felt like a maze – one that I would willingly get lost in.

My fingers rested in the spaces between his, and I marvelled at how everything in that moment felt right.

I tilted towards him, and he did the same towards me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, stealing a glance at his lips.

Heart pounding.

Blood racing.

It left me dizzy.

“I’m… not sure.” Damian replied, his tone low. “But if you asked me to kiss you, I would.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist with a feather-light touch and I burst into flames.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

-THE END-

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

12. Skydiving with no parachute

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.3k

“You’re all packed and ready to go, right?” Sebastian’s voice is loud and clear as I put him on speaker phone and place him on the nightstand.

“Just about,” I respond, folding another shirt and placing it in my suitcase. “I’m just wrapping it up right now. What time will you guys be here tomorrow?”

Bong-cha is out for a meeting at the Bighit building, she promised to come back as soon as possible so we could enjoy the evening together. I decided to make the most of my afternoon and pack everything up.

“Rhea said we’ll swing by at 6.”

Our flight leaves tomorrow morning at 9:30, sending us back over to Europe for another week of promos and then we’ll be off to the states. Home sweet home.

“Ok, sounds great.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

For all that’s gone on over the past few weeks, today is too calm and quiet. I have the entire house to myself, nobody is blowing up my phone, and I have nowhere to really go today. Any other day, I would have been over the moon about my current situation...but I can’t help but feel a little restless.

Yoongi and I brainstormed yesterday for a long time, trying to figure out just how we were going to make this work. Living on opposite sides of the world and the both of us having busy schedules that just so happen to be in the spotlight isn’t exactly making this easy.

There was a point yesterday where Yoongi stopped mid-sentence and looked at me with bright red cheeks.

“Is this moving too fast? I mean, I know you said we’re on the same page, but I think we should try to make this as normal as possible, you know?”

That statement alone was enough to have me swooning over him all over again. “I’m with you on that. I think right now...should we just focus on the basics?”

To be honest, I still don’t even know what we are, but I’m just happy to know that we are something.

At least, that’s what I’m trying to entertain myself with now that I’m just sitting on the couch and staring at Bong-cha’s TV. I’m not even sure what I’m watching, the thoughts in my head are too loud to think around anyway.

There’s a lot that I end up doing within the confines of the apartment. I can safely say that I’ve completed 12 ½ squats, 3 pushups, and one thirty second wall sit.

I’ve also eaten approximately three meals in the past two hours, so yeah. Boredom can be a dangerous thing, can’t it?

The reality of the situation is this: I’ve completed everything I need to do for the day, and now I’m just trying to stop myself from marching back into my room and folding Yoongi’s black shirt for the fifth time.

Eventually I end up scrolling through the outlines my agent has sent me, mulling over each option. There’s one project that is especially calling my name, but from what I’ve heard there’s a couple of pretty big actresses going after it.

I’m in the middle of a very convincing monologue when Bong-cha walks in.

“Wow,” she chuckles at me while dropping her bag on the counter. “Looks like you’re having a great time.”

“Oh, yeah.” I shrug, putting my phone away. “I’m trying to memorize this monologue for an audition. It’s all about this forbidden love back in the 1700s, it sounds like it would be pretty intense. But people love that kind of crap, you know? Hey, how was your meeting?”

Bong-cha is slipping into her room to change into something more comfortable. “It was fine, pretty boring. Just wrapping up some final details. Jungkook said to tell you hello, by the way.”

We both know who I’m really itching to ask about, but I refrain from asking for the time being. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight? We can go out, eat at that one restaurant, you know the one by the park? That place never gets old. Or we can stay in, order takeout.” I quickly add once I notice the look of pure exhaustion on Bong-cha’s face.

Rolling her shoulders, she shoots me a tired smile. “Don’t you want to go out? I don’t want to be lame for your last night here.”

“No, I really don’t care. Sometimes it’s nice to just chill at home.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing before Bong-cha is on the phone and ordering up some food. We settle down in the front room, bickering over different movies and chatting about my promo schedule.

“So you’re going back to Europe? Why? Weren’t you just there?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, but we weren’t able to finish up everything that we wanted to because we came here. So we’ll be there for a week in Germany and Italy.”

“And then you’re heading home?”

“Yep.”

“When are you going to start bringing me souvenirs? I always-” Bong-cha is cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the door. “Oh, there’s the food. Anyways, like I was saying- oh!”

I jump up from my seat, heart pounding in my chest as I hope against hope that a certain dear friend of mine is at the door.

“Hi, I intercepted your delivery guy.”

Jimin holds up our food with a shy smile, giving me a little wave. Bong-cha takes a moment to recover, but when she does she invites him in and scolds him for doing the deliverer’s job.  

“Are you packed now?” Jimin asks me from where he’s unloading our food on the counter. Bong-cha is moving about in a frenzy, pulling glasses from the cupboards and shooting me panicked expressions any chance she gets.

It’s all I can do to not burst out laughing at the situation. “Yeah, everything is ready to go. Actually, would you mind taking something back to Yoongi for me?” When Jimin nods I rush into my room and grab the black t-shirt from my bed.

“Wow, you stole his clothes? That’s pretty bold of you,” Jimin teases me before setting the shirt down where he’ll remember it. “Here’s your plate.”

I take the plate from him, making some lame excuse about needing something from the kitchen and sidling over to Bong-cha. “Invite him to stay for the movie,” I breathe out, hoping she hears me.

“Have you eaten?” Bong-cha asks as she stomps on my foot. I yelp, rushing out of the kitchen.

“No, not yet. I’ll eat later, though.”

“Well...Cara and I were just going to watch a movie tonight. You can stay if you want, we’ll order more food.”

Jimin’s smile could power New York City as he looks at Bong-cha. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

We fall into an easy conversation, the three of us lounging about and scarfing down our food. Jimin ends up ordering a ghastly amount of food and treats, so much that it looks like we’re hosting a party. I can tell that Bong-cha is one churro away from offering Jimin her hand in marriage as he laughs at a funny part in the movie.

7:06 ME: Soooo Jimin and Bong-cha?

It’s surprisingly easy to angle my phone away from their attention as the two of them are lost in their own little world. One watches the movie while the other watches the person, and then they switch.

7:09 MYG: What, the fact that he’s completely whipped for her?

“What are you over there giggling about?” Bong-cha asks me, wiggling her eyebrows. Jimin tries to do the same, looking like some evil experiment.

“What? The movie is really funny.”

“Cara.”

“Yeah?”

“The main character’s mother just died.”

“Oh.”

Jimin leans back, stretching a bit. “I bet she’s texting Yoongi. That’s all he’s ever doing these days, anyways.” My face burns which leads Jimin to give a triumphant shout.

“Has he confessed his undying love for you yet?” Bong-cha asks. Jimin jumps in next.

“He basically did yesterday, didn’t he?”

“No, Cara just said that they’re working through the basics. No ‘I love yous’ or anything yet.”

“Yeah,” Jimin rests his hands on his knees, angling himself toward Bong-cha. “But actions speak louder than words.”

Now Bong-cha leans forward as well, my own participation in this conversation long forgotten. “That’s true, but you can’t just rely on actions alone! Sometimes words are necessary.”

“So girls want actions and words?”

“Of course they do! Actions can be misleading, words at least offer a clear explanation!”

Jimin looks like he’s caught between telling Bong-cha he loves her or pulling her closer. “But words can be misleading as well! Why can’t people just connect the dots through someone’s actions?”

7:12 ME: Oh my gosh they’ve got it baaaad

7:12 ME: This is honestly the most fun I’ve had all day, just watching them. Are they always this oblivious?

“Because nobody should have to rely on that one thing alone! There should be a healthy balance between actions and words. Say what you intend, and follow up with your actions! It’s as simple as that!” Bong-cha is nearly panting, but there’s a hint of a smile curling around her lips.

Jimin scans her face for a moment longer, eyes lingering on the bridge of her nose and the way her hair falls into her face when she’s riled up.

“Huh. Interesting.” With that Jimin sits back, returning his attention to the screen. Bong-cha follows suit almost immediately.

“Idiots,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?” Bong-cha asks.

“Oh, nothing. Just reading out loud.”

🌙

12:17 MYG: Sorry, I just got out of a meeting. I didn’t mean to not respond. To answer your question, yes. They’re always like that.

I’m wide awake and staring up at the ceiling when Yoongi messages me. Snatching my phone from the bedside table, I scan the text.

12:18 ME: You just finished your meeting? Why was it so late?

12:20 MYG: I had to change some things with the mixtape, so there were a lot of things to go over.

Frowning, I hastily type out another question.

12:21 ME: What are you changing? I thought it was perfect the way it was before, but I’m sure whatever you changed will be good too.

12:25 MYG: It’s not as bad as it sounds. I just finally found a concept that I thought really fit. Now we’re just trying to make sure everything flows with the concept.

12:27 ME: What’s the new concept?

A while passes before Yoongi responds, and I try to trick myself into thinking that we’re done talking for the night so I can finally get some rest. Of course, once my phone lights up with a new message I’m just as awake as ever.

12:52 MYG: You’ll see when it drops in December 😌

12:55 ME: Rude.

12:57 MYG: Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping right now? What time are you leaving in the morning?

1:00 ME: Leaving here at 6, flight leaves at 9:30.

Sighing into the darkness I watch at those three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen. I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t even get to see Yoongi today, but it’s just now that I’m realizing I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I’ve told myself a million times today that this is just how it’s going to be, and that I’ll just take what I can get. If it’s tired late night texts, then I’ll take it.

I think that scares me. It scares me, how little I want from him. How he has so much sway over my heart.

It’s a good scary, I think. Like the kind of scared you get before you jump out of a plane, your first time going skydiving. Right now I’m just hoping that my parachute isn’t riddled with holes, but as I stare at those three little dots, I’m wondering if I even remembered to put a parachute on in the first place.

1:02 MYG: You should go to sleep, Car. Let’s facetime tomorrow? Just shoot me a text when you land.

As my tired fingers text out a goodnight, I can’t help but feel like I’m an idiot for skydiving without a parachute, because the ground seems to be approaching too fast.

🌙

All I know is there’s an alarm going off, and I want to kill it.

“Whaaaat do you want from meeee,” I groan out as I fumble in the darkness for my phone. Once it’s silenced, I check the time.

5:15 am. I’m disgusted.

Stumbling around the room until I hit the lightswitch, I hiss as light fills the room. Through squinted eyes I can see my suitcase and the clothes I laid out for today. I’m ashamed to say that I nearly sustained a concussion while attempting to put my pants on, my tangled legs and the dresser being the main culprits.

I think it goes without saying that by the time I emerge from the room and finish brushing my teeth, I’m ready to go back to bed.

The sounds of Bong-cha using the toaster guide me, suitcase in tow. Now comes the hardest part: saying goodbye.

“Do you want jam as well or just butter?” A deep, tired sounding voice asks me.

Min Yoongi stands before the toaster, decked out in sweats and a sweatshirt. His hair is a mess, standing up on the ends. His eyes are still half-closed, his lips in a pout as he turns to face me.

I gape at him, taking in what I think might be his best choice of outfit ever. “Is this a dream?”

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s too cold outside to be a dream. Jam or just butter?”

Later I’ll cover for myself and claim that my tears were just a side effect of the early morning and the long day ahead of me, but right now I can’t think up any excuse as hot tears start falling down my cheeks.

“J-jam.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he notices my predicament, and he clears the kitchen in no time, leaving the toast abandoned. I think he must be tired as well, because he doesn’t even hesitate before pulling me into his arms and squeezing me tight.

My arms wrap around his back, hands getting lost in the fabric of his hoodie. He presses his lips to the top of my head, the action causing me to snuggle in even deeper and get his hoodie all wet with my tears.

“Y-you came...and made m-me toast?” The words are muffled, but it’s quiet enough in the house that he hears me.

“Should I not have?” Yoongi asks, and I pull away just enough to look up at him, scowling.

“No, I’m happy you d-did. It’s just…” I take a steadying breath, more tears flooding my eyes as Yoongi looks down at me with a soft expression I’ve never seen before.

“I know.” He pulls me back in, hands rubbing soothing circles on my back. “I know, Car.”

We stay like that for a long while, and it’s only when my sniffles have subsided that Yoongi gently takes my hands in his and leads me over to the kitchen island. I sit down, watching as he spreads butter and then jam onto my toast.

Setting the plate before me he reaches into the fridge for some orange juice and pours us both a glass.

“Sorry, it’s probably cold now.”

I shake my head, taking another bite. “Still tastes good. Thank you.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Yoongi gets up, one hand tracing over my shoulders and he walks over to the couch. “This is for you.”

He hands me a small package wrapped in brown wrapping paper, a black ribbon tied around the middle. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“A present? Can I open it?”

“Open it when you get to your hotel tonight.” Yoongi looks a bit embarrassed as he sits back down, and I realize that he might be feeling a little out of his element here. After all, when was the last time he ever had a relationship?

I get up and put the package away in my suitcase, groaning when I check the time. Everyone should be here in about 5 minutes.

“Times up?”

Looking up I see Yoongi wandering over to me, hands pushing his hair back in an effort to tame it. I nod solemnly.

We don’t speak a word as I meet him halfway, fingers entangling themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. He closes his eyes for a moment, and I take advantage of the situation, leaning up and pressing a peck to his jaw.

I can hear his sharp intake of breath, quickly followed by Bong-cha’s annoyed voice.

“Really? Get a room, losers.”

Blushing madly, I try to squirm out of Yoongi’s grasp but his gruff laugh has me stilling in his arms. “Turn around, Bong-cha.” Without waiting to see if she will, Yoongi leans down and presses a long, slow kiss to my lips.

It’s not nearly long enough as the sound of a car honking outside pulls us apart. Yoongi has a somber look in his eyes as he gives me an encouraging nod and a small peck to my forehead before stepping back.

Bong-cha skips forward, launching herself into my arms. “You two are gross, but I still love you.”

“Love you too,” I whisper, my tears threatening to make a reappearance. Bong-cha seems to pick up on it, shoving the handle of my suitcase into my hands and pushing me toward the door.

Yoongi beats me to it, swinging it open and clenching his jaw as a blast of cold air hits us. Without a word he takes my suitcase and heads out, leaving me with nothing to do but follow him and hope I have everything.

“Bong-cha?” I turn around to see my friend wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Yeah?”

“Keep me updated. Jimin...he really likes you.”

My friend doesn’t have it in her to roll her eyes, instead just nodding before waving me off. She’s never been one for goodbyes.

Yoongi is already at the car, handing my suitcase off to Ren who hoists it into the car. He looks like he’s freezing, but as he turns to wave me over I decide that freezing looks good on him.  

“Be careful, call me, text me, have a safe flight-”

“You’ve got to stop worrying so much, Yoongs.”

Smiling down at me even as he shivers, Yoongi pulls me in for another embrace. There are so many words hanging between us, but I choose to sweep past them and opt to nuzzle my face deeper into Yoongi’s neck.

“See you soon.”

I sigh, hoping that I will. “Yeah, soon.”

🌙

The airport, flight, and car ride to the hotel pass in a blur of shapes and colors. I vaguely remember there being a mob at both the Seoul and Berlin airports, but I was stuffed so tightly between security that I could hardly see anything.

Now, sitting on the edge of my bed, I hold onto the little package from Yoongi. Holding my breath, I untie the ribbon and tear open the paper, chewing on my lip.

An audible gasp leaves my lips as I hold up Yoongi’s black t-shirt. As it unfolds, a small slip of paper flutters to the ground. Holding the shirt to my nose I grin as I realize Yoongi must have sprayed it with his cologne. I wonder who’s idea that was; my bet is on Jimin.

Grabbing the paper, I flip it over to see Yoongi’s handwriting.

It looks better on you.

Chuckling softly to myself, I hurry and slip the shirt over my head. It’s quiet in here, but soon the sound of my video call fills the room as I anxiously wait for Yoongi to pick up.

Request a holiday BTS imagine!

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[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

[whosaskingwrites]

The Sound Of Love (Tsukishima x Reader)

A/N: Um I don't like this one as much as the others but I did my best. It honestly took forever cause I didn't want to write it and I had no idea what song to use but I eventually decided so here we are.

WARNINGS: angst

Date: Saturday November 7th, 2020

Details: 5.3 pages 2,000 words

Theme: Musicalia- The victim will hear a song constantly playing in their head until it drives them insane. The person of affection will only hear the music when they are around the victim.

Angst Masterlist

Clair De Lune

A simple, beautiful piano melody that had been repeating in my head for weeks. There was never a reprieve from the beautifully haunting melody. My mind followed the sound like a moth to a flame and deteriorated the closer it got to the music.

No amount of holding my hands over my ears stopped it. It had become a part of me like the backround music in a video game or movie. However this wasn't a video game or a movie this was real. Every day was the same never a rest I couldn't even sleep some nights.

This was my last week at Karasuno before I was put in the hospital. My mind was too far gone to stay out I couldn't really hear anything anymore to distracted by the music and of course I hummed it on occasion. Everyone in my classes knew I had it...Musicalia but they didn't know who caused it.

Monday

I walked to class with a sigh Yamaguchi was following and as we walked I heard a gentle piano melody that got louder. I spotted a familiar H/c haired girl fast walking past me like she'd done since I pushed her away. Yamaguchi followed my eyesight and the music faded the further away she got "you should apologize you know. This week is her last at Karasuno," I blinked 'her last week?' I thought "Shut up Yamaguchi," I said keeping my emotions off my face "Sorry Tsukki," I continued watching the S/c skinned female rush off down the hall.

Tuesday

I was walking up to the roof ready to reject another girl. Why they felt the need to confess to me of all people id never understand. As I rounded the corner someone ran into me and with a short shriek they fell. I was about to say something when I noticed who it was...Y/n she looked paler than I remembered and eye bags were prevalent on her face. I heard the piano again it was louder than ever.

"Do you need to listen to music that loud?" I asked though it was harsher than intended. Her eyes widened and I held back a frown as I saw she was afraid. "S-sorry," she stood up quickly and ran off down the hall the music fading the further she got and I watched 'why was she afraid of me?' My eyes caught something on the floor which I turned to. Picking it up I realized it was a simple gold bracelet with a dinosaur charm on it.

"This is...," It was the bracelet id given her three years ago on her birthday. It was still in perfect condition looking like it did on the day I'd given it to her and it caused a small smile to pull at my lips as I pocketed the familiar bracelet.

Wednesday

Everytime I spotted the e/c eyed female in the hallway and approached her she would turn and run the music following her. Nobody ever seemed bothered by the piano it was almost like they didn't hear it and Y/n was never wearing headphones when it was playing. "Does she ever stop listening to that song?" I mumbled to myself as she ran away yet again.

"What song?" Yamaguchi asked next to me I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him. "What do you mean what song? That damn piano music she's always listening to it's annoying," I said and Yamaguchi’s eyes widened "Tsukki...She's not listening to any music...," He stated.

I blinked as I processed what that meant "No ive heard it-," Yamaguchi cut me off before I could continue he had a sad look in his eyes and as he spoke I realized why. "She's got Musicalia Tsukki...," He whispered as he looked at me. "She...She what?" I asked. "She's got Musicalia and if you can hear it that means...," my own eyes widened as I realized what he was implying. "Oh...,"

Thursday

Cornering someone who was avoiding you was much more difficult than you'd think. Everytime I ended up even in the same room as her she ran before I could even get near her. "Yamaguchi," I stated causing him to jump. "Yeah?" He nervously asked. "Can you convince Y/n to meet you on the roof?" I asked. He didn't ask any questions he just nodded mumbling a quiet yeah as the teacher walked in the room.

I stood on the roof looking out towards the gym. I heard footsteps come around the corner and stop before they slowly started backing away. "Can you stop running? I need to talk to you," I said. The footsteps stopped and I turned around. Y/n stood a few feet away nervously shuffling on her feet.

"When were you gonna tell me?" I asked and she sighed "Preferably never," She answered and I furrowed my eyebrows. "Never? This could kill you!" I took a step toward her while she took one back "So what?" She spit bitterly rasing her head up to glare. "So what? So everything!" I shouted.

"So everything? You dont even fucking like me! You made that pretty clear last year!" She yelled back. She was referencing an argument that I barely remembered and that she hadn't forgotten. "Do you even know what its like to have your heart crushed in seconds!?" She screamed. "You still should have told me you have Musicalia!" I glared back. 

She just gave me a bitter smile "I suppose my dear this was how it was meant to be," she stretched her arms out as she spoke and tears dripped down her face at a slow pace. "You dying isn't how it's supposed to be!" She only shook her head in response. I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out the bracelet. "Here...just take this back," I said holding it out. She walked forward and I heard that gentle and haunting music get louder.

She stopped closing my hand around the bracelet and leaning up to press a kiss against my cheek. "Keep it I won't have a use for it much longer," she mumbled before turning and walking off. "Y/n!" She stopped but didn't turn around and I continued speaking. "I love you," she sighed and turned her head. The sunset cast her in an ethereal glow and sparkled off the remaining tears on her face.

She gave a sad, watery smile in response. "No you don't Tsukki. If you did...You would have come back to me a lot sooner," she turned and left I knew she was right but god it hurt to hear her say that. My hand was still tightly closed around the bracelet the metal uncomfortably warm against my skin as she walked away from me.

Friday

She avoided me even more. I never saw her but I heard the music following around on occasion. After yesterday I had looked for the melody finally hearing it long enough to search for it. The results had told me the song was Clair De Lune I should have known. It was Y/n's favorite song though I doubted she liked it now.

I had tried to find her when I heard the music but even if I followed it I never found her. I was walking toward my locker keeping an ear out for that melody. As I opened the locker a f/c envelope fell out as I picked it up I noticed it was sealed with a gold wax stamp. Flipping it over my name was written on the front in flowing cursive. I put it away in my bag before heading to practice.

I flipped the envelope around in my hand staring at it before sighing. I pulled open the envelope and slipped the contents out. The first was a photo of me, Y/n, and Yamaguchi we were standing in the park in the photo. Y/n and Yamaguchi had their arms over eachothers shoulders while I stood in the background glaring towards the camera.

The other thing was a letter that I was hesitant to flip open. I knew the letter was from Y/n but I for the first time felt afraid on what she had to say. Sighing I opened the letter ready to read it.

Dear Kei,

It's been awhile hasn't it? Though That's what happens after fights. You give each other time to calm down and then you come back. Only this time...There is no coming back. You already know I have Musicalia and I'm sure you know I love you. It's weird to write that to someone you know doesn't love you.

Don't lie either. You don't love me the way I love you. You may think you do but if you had we would have been friends again by now. But you were perfectly content with not having me in your life so I know you'll be fine when I'm actually gone.

That's the issue isn't it? I'll be gone soon really, truly...gone. I'm not afraid knowing my death is approaching im...content and at peace with it. My death won't be glorious. I'm not going out with a bang. Or any final inspirational words. I'll go quietly in my sleep hopefully. Sleep however is hard when there's music constantly playing on loop in your head.

When I'm gone Kei...Will you visit me? Tell me about your day or the volleyball team! Yamaguchi told me about the team you should go easier on them. You should also learn from them you know? Anyways if you ever can't make it to me...Play Clair De Lune and I'll go to you! I'll listen to you talk at your place instead of you coming to mine!

I'm sure you know by now that this is my goodbye letter. Don't act so suprised of course I want to say goodbye to you. You're important to me you should know that. I've written this for awhile but I wanted it to be a good final goodbye since its immortalized forever in a letter. If you share this with anyone I'll kill you by the way. Even in death I still have a reputation. Anyway...

Goodbye Kei

I love you

—Y/n L/n

A month had passed since she said goodbye I moved forward even though it hurt to not see her around school. It almost felt like she moved but that imagine was ruined whenever I visited her grave. "Hey Tsukki I didn't know you liked dinosaurs!" I sighed in irritation my eyes flicking towards Kuroo who was pointing at my wrist.

"Wow that's cool!" Bokuto joined in and my eyes drifted to the golden bracelet around my wrist. "It's not mine," I stated drinking my water. "Whos is it?" Akaashi asked and I sighed again. "My friend Y/n’s...She's gone now and I'd rather not talk about it," I said standing up and heading back to the net. None of them said anything more about it and I was grateful for that.

Later that night I closed my eyes and played the song that I had grown very familiar with. It was quiet except for the soft melody playing through my headphones. While my eyes were closed I felt the familiar pressure on my body like someone was laying on my chest. If I listened through my headphones close enough I could almost hear her soft voice humming the song. 

I knew in my brain it was impossible but for now I let my heart believe that it was her. I talked quietly about anything and everything that came to mind. The team was sleeping so I knew I could talk freely most of them slept like they were in a coma. I sighed as I reached the end of my story before I spoke once more.

"I miss you Y/n,"

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TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow