#shrug. maybe I just feel things too much and. too deeply and too specifically sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wooahaes · 2 years

Text

five shots at love

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x gn!reader

prompt: n/a

word count: 8.5k~

warnings: implied relationship abuse (nothing specific, but implied to be mental and potentially physical) for reader + the aftermath of that (anxiety n whatnot) + a therapy mention. ask for additional warnings to be added.

daisy’s notes: this feels not good but it’s genuinely not meant to be as in-depth as i would want tbh. take a mingyu fic.

summary: you don’t believe in love anymore. kim mingyu is set on changing that.

Mingyu was a friend of a friend. You met his roommate, Wonwoo, through a local book club that became a drag fairly early on. The two of you spent one too many meetings pushing any conversation, and one day you pitched the idea to him that the two of you should just ditch it and stay friends. He’d been a little surprised by the remark, but agreed easily enough. Things were boring, after all, and you were probably the only person there he’d want to keep in contact with afterward. The two of you would pick a book, read it throughout the week, and usually meet up at one or the other’s apartments to have a chill conversation with snacks. Pretty early on you ended up meeting Mingyu.

Who, in stark contrast to Wonwoo, was one of the loudest people you’d ever met. But that was okay. He was fun to talk to and friendly as he could be, and also the snacks he made for your meeting were fucking bomb and you were happy to let him cook anytime he felt like it despite the fact he never partook in any discussions (sometimes he piped in if he knew something about the material, but you learned that he was typically too busy with his job in a restaurant to actively read as much as you and Wonwoo did). Ultimately, things were pretty chill.

You were just hanging out with the two of them when the topic came up. Mingyu had turned his question onto you, and you had shrugged.

“I don’t believe in love,” was all that you said.

It’d been enough to earn a sideways look from Mingyu, who’d glanced back at his phone for barely a second before you confused him with one statement. His brows were knit tightly together as he parsed that little sentence mentally. “You can’t say that.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes--plenty of people legit weren’t interested in love, and you were sure he’d back off if you were one of them. Sure, you did believe in love itself, but... “I don’t believe in love for me. Not romantic love,” you shrugged.

Wonwoo looked up at you, reaching up to adjust his glasses. “Do you not want it?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that I don’t want it,” you shuffled, getting cozier in your chair. “It just never worked out for me. Therefore, I don’t believe in love in my life.”

Wonwoo alone knew vaguely what you meant by that, since you’d told him before that your previous relationship was shit. You didn’t tell him why or anything specific, but he knew a little due to the topic coming up maybe a week or two ago during one of your little book meetings.

Mingyu, however, was set to change that. “What if you met the right person?”

“Then I guess I’d be wrong,” you looked at him, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “But so far, I haven’t.”

“What if I can prove you wrong?” Mingyu challenged, smiling at you. Wonwoo looked between the two of you, trying to gauge whether he needed to change the topic based on your expressions alone.

“Then I guess I’d owe you one,” you shrugged. “You’re welcome to try, Mingyu. Just don’t get disappointed when it doesn’t work out.”

You’d never know why he decided to set himself on this task. Maybe it was some sort of forlorn air you carried with you, or maybe it was because Mingyu was someone who cared deeply about his friends. When that circle expanded to include you, you could only imagine that he’d dote on you the moment he knew what lines not to cross. Yet this one was one he seemed fine with vaulting straight across, although the line itself had been blurred to begin with when you told him he was allowed to try. But you found out something pretty soon after:

Kim Mingyu was not a quitter.

“Tell me what you’re looking for,” was what Mingyu said to you when he called you early next week. You could hear the sounds of the bus on his end as you continued your work from home, typing away at your computer with your phone smushed between your shoulder and your cheek. By all means, you could have turned it onto speaker--but you opted to just keep working as you were.

You rolled your eyes at the question, though. “Isn’t that cheating?”

“No,” he answered immediately. “What’s your type?”

You slowed to a stop for a moment, a little line blinking back at you from where you’d been typing code. “I dunno,” you answered, leaning back in your chair. “I like people who I can have a good conversation with, I guess. People who are interesting.”

“That could be anyone,” Mingyu whined from his end. “Can’t you tell me something more specific? Tall people? People who do sports? What about people with green eyes--”

“That stuff doesn’t matter to me,” you groaned. “I guess... Someone who has a warm presence, if that makes sense.” You shut your eyes, and Mingyu said nothing on the other end of the call as you wrack your brain for anything else he could use. “I don’t know! Maybe someone who can make me feel safe. That whole... vibe,” you waved your free hand, “warm and loving and... I dunno, someone who makes me okay with stepping outside of my comfort zone.”

Mingyu said nothing. You frowned a bit, wondering if he had stopped listening or if he was just thinking, but then rolled your eyes.

“Goodbye, Mingyu,” you dragged out the words in a sing-song tone, giving him a second before you went to hang up.

“I think I know someone.”

Well, shit, that quick? The fact made you hesitate. As much as you were okay with the idea of dating... “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s just going to end badly.”

“Everyone’s capable of love if they want it,” was what Mingyu said, and you could hear a chime on his end of the call. “You said you were open to it if you found someone,” he paused, and you could hear him mumble a thank-you as he likely made his way off his bus. “I just want you to try this. If this fails, then... At least you know it’s possible, right?”

Part of you wanted to tell him right then and there that your love life was not due to a lack of trying. But the other part took that thought and smashed it: you’d gone on dates, yes, but that hadn’t been in well over a year. So instead you sigh, and decide you need to set something in place: “I’m giving you five chances.”

“Five?”

“Five different people,” you said, and then paused. You genuinely want to give Mingyu a good chance. Maybe he’d work his magic and find you your soulmate--but that would be hard to tell from a first date alone. “And,” you begin again, “if it makes it past a third date, then you win.”

He chuckled. “You’re giving me a lot of chances.”

You were, at least a little, but you shook your head. “Uh-uh.” You shifted in your chair, legs bumping against each other. “Most of my dates never made it past the first one,” you said, glancing toward your closet as a name began to resurface in the back of your mind, “so... Five dates is barely anything.”

“What do I get if I win?”

You hummed to yourself, mulling it over. Neither of you needed money, since both of you were in pretty solid jobs. “A favor,” you settled on. “Anything you want within reason. Don’t be weird about it.”

He let out a grunt of affirmation, and you could hear a door shut behind him--most likely the door to his apartment complex. “And if I lose?”

You already knew what you wanted. “You have to use your chef skills for me for a week.” If the snacks he made you and Wonwoo those few times were good, you couldn’t imagine what a proper meal would taste like. “I’d say two, but that feels cruel.”

“Then two weeks,” he pushed. “You’re the one going on dates. Besides... I’m going to win, so I can bet two weeks.”

You laughed a little. Mingyu was grinning confidently and you knew it. “Someone’s cocky,” you teased, playing with a stray thread on your shirt.

He laughed quietly on his end. “I’ll have to see when he’s free. We’ll work this out.”

“Mmhm.”

“I will!” Mingyu said, “I’ll start thinking about what I want for my favor.”

You found yourself smiling, listening to him greet Wonwoo for a second before you spoke up. “Then I’ll figure out what I want you to cook for me.”

Later that week you met man number one. His name was Joshua, he worked in business, and he had a voice like honey and the kindest eyes of anyone you’d met. The restaurant you were meeting him in was fine (thankfully not too upper class or anything--one glance at the watch on his wrist told you he was doing great for himself) and cozy, and he’d taken a table in the corner. Before he even spoke to you, you could understand why Mingyu thought of him: only so many people seem to radiate this kind of gentle aura, and Joshua definitely fit the bill.

You were looking over the menu when you finally asked him what was on your mind. “So... How do you know Mingyu?”

Joshua looked up with a soft hum, a pretty smile on his face. “He’s a friend of a friend,” he said. “One of my friends used to room with him a few years ago, and he reached out asking if I was single and looking for a date.” He looked radiant while he spoke, and you swore your face was getting hot. He’d draped his jacket over the back of his chair a few minutes before, and you could see the way his arms flexed slightly.

You just nodded along. “Ah.”

“Is there a reason you wanted to know?”

No need to tell Joshua that this is... a really weird deal between you and Mingyu. “Just curious,” you answered. “So... What exactly do you do?”

“I work in sales,” was his answer. “Apparently I’m pretty good at it.” With a voice like honey, you genuinely weren’t surprised. “What about you?”

“Programming,” you said. “Usually back-end stuff. It pays pretty well.”

That sparked up some interest on his side, and he ended up prodding you for more details that you were happy to indulge him with. Conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. The two of you got into talking about movies (you liked his taste, to be honest), he asked you about your taste in music, your hobbies... It was nice to talk to him, exchanging information casually enough. He was sweet.

Yet there was something that bothered you underneath it all. It was stupid, but all he had to do was mention playing guitar and songwriting for it to start getting underneath your skin.

“It’s not that I hate working in sales,” he said offhandedly, “I just think my real passion is in music. One of my friends is a producer, and we’ve been working on some stuff when we can...”

It was stupid. It was stupid and you knew it was irrational, but it felt like the happy daydream you’d been creating--an open chance for Joshua to maybe step in and sweep you off your feet--had fractured. Things weren’t going to be normal after your past experiences, and you knew that, and it made all of this feel stupid. The date in general, the deal with Mingyu--what was the point in trying if something like wanting to pursue music was enough to crack the fantasy and send it shattering around you? If Joshua noticed your change in air, he didn’t say anything. You hoped he didn’t notice, to be honest. You were still going to see this date through, splitting the check soon enough. Ditching him to sit in a restaurant alone felt like a dick move when it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you.

“So,” Joshua had asked, hands tucked into his pants as the two of you left the restaurant. “Do you want to go out again? I’ll have to check my schedule, but I think I’m free next--”

“I think we’d be better off as friends.” You didn’t look at him, staying blunt and detached. Friends could work, maybe. Anything more...

“Oh.” Joshua blinked in surprise, clearly not noticing your earlier shift (thankfully, in your eyes--there was something comforting in knowing you didn’t ruin the entire moment). He sounded hurt, especially because things still went well. If it hadn’t been that one tidbit of information, a second date would be on the table. Maybe even a third, to be honest. He was nice. “Okay,” he said a second later, “That’s--” he paused, clearing his throat. “That’d be nice,” and he was smiling at you, still so pretty and warm and radiant as he was before. “I’d like that. I think you’re cool, so...” He took the smallest step toward you, just to try and see your face better, only to back off when he realized how uncomfortable you looked. “Do you need a ride home? I’m parked--”

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll just take a cab.”

He didn’t push you further. You were thankful he didn’t, maybe because there was that little thread of panic in your voice. He took another step back, just to give you more space. “Just let me know when you made it home safely, okay? It was really nice meeting you.”

You mumbled some sort of “you too” before parting ways, flagging down a cab as soon as you could. The moment the door was shut, you felt safer. Less vulnerable to your own thoughts as you told the driver your address. You did text Joshua when you were home, just to let him know that you were home safe. He texted you back barely minutes later a thumbs-up emoji and that he was happy to hear that, and then another text to sleep well. Truthfully, it made you feel guilty. He was so nice, but...

You slipped out of your shoes, already calling Mingyu. He picked up on the second ring.

“So?” You could hear him smiling on the other end. “Did you like Joshua? I think--”

“No more musicians.” You said it clearly, pulling yourself together as you made your way to your bedroom. “Hobbies are fine, just no one who wants to be a musician or is a musician. I think they’re annoying.”

It was a lie, sure, but you didn’t need to explain it all to Mingyu.

There was a pause on his end that lasted too long. Had you startled him with the sudden shift in tone between the two of you? “Okay?” He finally said. “I’m sorry--”

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t think about it until tonight.” You lied through your teeth as you started to unbutton your shirt, ignoring the box in the bottom of your closet for another night (tomorrow, for sure, you’ll work up the nerve to go through it), “I just don’t think musicians are attractive. If it’s a hobby, it’s really fine--just... no serious career stuff, alright?”

Mingyu let out a sigh. “If it helps, I don’t think Joshua actually wants to--”

“I already told him I’d rather be friends,” you said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I just thought...” He trailed off. “Never mind. No musicians. I’ll keep it in mind.” You listened to him hum for a moment. “Are people who work with them fine?”

“Like... I don’t know, choreographers? Make up artists?” You asked, and he let out a hum of affirmation. “Yeah, sure, fuck, I don’t care. Just no one who wants to perform or anything.”

Another hum of affirmation. “Sleep well. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

You mumbled out something else, maybe another “it’s fine, Mingyu” before you hung up on him. You set your phone down admittedly a little too forcefully, turning to go change your clothes so that you could sleep soon. While you were washing your face, you stopped to stare at your own reflection for a moment. When did you start looking so tired...?

You shut off the sink after rinsing. Tomorrow for sure, you’d take care of things.

Mingyu showed up to your place a few days later after you had finished a load of laundry. He offhandedly mentioned that Joshua still thought you were really nice and that he was happy to be friends with you--and, honestly, you were a little happy to admit that Joshua had been checking up on you after clearing the air. He liked you, he thought things were going really well between the two of you, but he (obviously, in his words) wasn’t going to force you into something you didn’t want. Joshua was happy with talking to you casually. Maybe the two of you could get together for a movie night with some of his friends. When you apologized to him again, feeling as though you led him on, he told you that you didn’t have to. It was one date, and even if it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t hold it against you considering how uncomfortable you looked after all of it. Joshua was sweet. You’d always feel a little bad for rejecting him, to be honest.

Mingyu sat backwards in your uncomfortable desk chair, pressing himself against the back of it as he watched you fold a pair of pants. Normally, you’d probably admonish him for barging in (he’d done it with Wonwoo once before, back before you and Mingyu were really friends), but at this point you couldn’t really care less about his presence. The guy had taken care of you once when you were sick and had no one else who could be there. Barriers tend to break down after things like that.

“So,” he started, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you, “friendly, warm, safe, but no musicians.” He paused, watching you for a moment longer. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Did a musician break your heart?” He teased, smiling to himself. He couldn't see the forced smile you made at the statement.

“Something like that.” You changed the topic: “Why are you spending your day off here?”

“I’m not.” He rested his head in his hands, “We’re going to get coffee when you’re done. I need to know more about you if I’m going to matchmake.”

Folding the shirt in your hands, you cast him an incredulous look. “Really?”

He nodded proudly. “Joshua was your type,” he said, “but you also have to be their type for this to work. Wonwoo won’t help me.”

Yeah, no fucking kidding. Wonwoo had swore he’d stay out of this as much as he could because if it blew back up in Mingyu’s face, he didn’t want any part of it. You couldn’t blame him. You didn’t think this would go bad, but you wouldn’t want any part of this if you were him. Plus, you didn’t want to correct Mingyu that you were pretty sure that if the music thing wasn’t there, you and Joshua might have been a perfect match.

Instead you finished folding laundry at Mingyu’s playful insistence, warding him off when he offered to help you finish the job faster because he was an impatient puppy practically begging to go out already. You told him about yourself while sitting across from him in a coffee shop, half-listening to the low jazz that played over the shitty speakers in a booth in the back. It’d been the stuff that you’d told him (and Joshua, too) before: you liked books and programming, you preferred a nice smoothie over the tea you were drinking and definitely over coffee. You laughed and told him it was fine when he gave the coffee he was drinking a worried glance--you hadn’t told him before anyway. Between cats and dogs, you didn’t have a favorite because both were cute in their own rights. He learned that you liked cooking after a long day to destress, and that you liked romcoms when they were the perfect balance of sappy and real--no forced conflict of miscommunication without a really damn good reason.

He teased you again over that, “I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“For me,” you said. “I love the idea of it. Just.. not the reality?”

“Why not?”

“Psshh, trusting another person with so much?” You shrugged, toying with the coffee stirrer that was still in your tea from when you mixed in sugar earlier. You reached up your other hand, pushing away the sugar packet just to distract yourself. “That only gets you hurt in the end. Love is... good when you can find that person, but I don’t think I’m going to.”

“So why are you letting me try?”

“I dunno,” you admitted. “Either... you change my mind, or I get your cooking for two weeks. I kinda win either way, when you think about it.”

Mingyu nodded along. To be honest... Even if he did end up succeeding, there was a part of him that wanted to cook for you anyway. You sounded like you needed something good in your life, and he could take care of you through making sure you had a good meal? Then he was happy to do it. You deserve good things, and Mingyu was determined to make sure you got them.

Man number two was Soonyoung. He met you outside of an amusement park on a warm day, and he already seemed to fit your expectations. He was a little quiet upon meeting you, but seemed to warm up easily enough. Soonyoung had this comforting energy about him, too, especially when he realized you were just as uncertain about this as he seemed to be. You were pretty sure you’d heard about him before, though, from Wonwoo at some point--but you couldn’t tell if Wonwoo had met him first and then introduced Mingyu to him, or if Mingyu’s list of friends was far bigger than you expected and it was all just a happy coincidence. Mingyu seemed to know a lot of people, after all, if your encounter with Joshua had said anything.

He was cute, though. The moment you asked him about what he liked to do, he was happy to start telling you about how much he loved dancing. He was a choreographer, actually, and also a teacher when he wasn’t busy with that. Typically he’d teach lessons to kids at this studio in the city on the weekends, and he loved it. He told you that he dreamed of having his own studio one day, or maybe choreographing for someone like Taemin.

You hoped he’d get it, honestly.

But that was just one thing. Soonyoung lit up when he saw a roller coaster he’d been excited for, already talking about how many times he’d ride it when he was a kid. He grabbed your hand, pulling you along excitedly, still babbling on about how you’d love it. If you were scared, you could hold his hand. It was cute. He’d later buy you cotton candy when the two of you were taking a break, and he fed you a piece before calling you cute.

It was sweet. He was sweet. Yet there was that stupid underlying sense of dread that kept up your spine and into your brain slow and steady as the day went on. He asked you about a second date, and you decided to be honest. You weren’t sure how you felt yet, but you were open to another shot for him to really woo you (it’d just meant to be you teasing, but he nodded and beamed at you with determination that he’d try really hard if you gave him that chance). He was available next Saturday afternoon, since he’d be teaching kids again. So you agreed to figure out the details soon enough. When you told Mingyu, he was excited for you. Soonyoung is a good guy, he told you.

Then you went two nights without sleep, anxiety building higher and heavier until you felt like you were suffocating. Soonyoung is a good guy. And yet you were already on the verge of tears, something inside of you afraid again. Maybe it was irrational, and you knew that, but it hurt. The idea of being perceived by someone, especially someone who seemed excited at the chance to try and earn your affection, did something to your brain and fucked with it too much. You tried to text Soonyoung that you weren’t sure about this, and he asked you to call.

“I just... I don’t know,” you had said, voice breaking. You’d been trying not to cry all day. “Shit, sorry, I’m--I’m a big mess right now--”

“No! No, no, no,” Soonyoung quickly said, staying as gentle as he could. “It’s okay. I don’t want you saying yes if what you really meant was no, okay? Even if it’s just for a date. I just thought... I just thought maybe hearing you explain it would be better.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself back down. “I don’t know. It’s just... Soonyoung, you’re really, really sweet. I just haven’t slept in a few days, and I keep getting more anxious, and--”

“Then it’s okay,” he said. You could hear the disappointment in his voice, you were positive of it. “It’s hurting your health. If you don’t want to see me again, it’s okay. Please don’t feel bad about this.”

“I just...” You shut your eyes tight. “I think you’re nice. It’s not that I don’t want to see you ever again, it’s just...”

Silence. How could you explain so much to him? Especially when that stupid box was still in your closet, waiting to be opened and addressed and you weren’t ready to think about what was in there?

“How about we try being friends?” He said. “I could teach you to dance,” he had this playful lilt to his voice, like he was trying to diffuse the tension, “and if things go from there, then... That’s good. If they don’t, then that’s okay, too.”

You nodded slowly, voice small when you responded with an “Okay.” With another deep breath and a sniffle, you wiped at your face. “I’m sorry again--”

“It’s okay!” He said. “I’ll tell Mingyu that I’m not feeling it if it helps?”

It was a lie, you were pretty sure, but you thanked him for it anyway. He offhandedly mentioned that he was pretty good friends with both Mingyu and Wonwoo anyway, so if you stayed friends with both of them, then he was sure the two of you would have met one way or another.

Whatever guys Mingyu knew... they were good. At least that brought you some comfort. First Joshua, now Soonyoung... Maybe you could handle this a little more if they all would accept that this was going nowhere. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be loved. A smart person would tell Mingyu the deal was off. But... You remembered the hopeful look in his eyes before. He genuinely wanted to try to help you.

Maybe there was a part of you that was dying to be proven wrong, too.

Mingyu had been cleaning up the apartment when you showed up to game with Wonwoo for a bit. He’d been sitting on the floor nearby, reorganizing the bottom two shelves reserved for mostly movies. He liked to have them in some sort of order, typically alphabetical just for the simplicity of it (although he had organized by color once and that had been nice... even though it didn’t last long), and they’d been wildly disorganized over the past few months. Probably your doing, maybe Soonyoung’s too, from what he and Wonwoo had told you. Admittedly, Mingyu would push a little more of that blame onto Soonyoung rather than you. Either it was his own lack of knowing, or his lack of wanting to blame you. It was fine, though: he liked cleaning anyway, and the shelves had been getting dusty. Plus, it gave him a chance to see what you and Wonwoo were doing.

Both of you were more preoccupied with the game at hand for the most part, but he spoke aloud after a few minutes of silence. “I really thought you’d like Soonyoung.” He was somewhere around the K’s at this point. Maybe Wonwoo had bought more movies and that was how the shelf got out of order...?

“I do,” you didn’t look away from the game, trying to solve a puzzle alongside Wonwoo. “Just not like that.”

Wonwoo didn’t look away either. His character had turned into some sort of flower... thing. “You still have that bet going?”

A grunt of affirmation from both you and Mingyu.

“What’s the point in doing it?” It didn’t sound dismissive coming from Wonwoo, just concerned. Like maybe this had been going on too long

But Mingyu just pouted as he looked back at the two of you. “I’m trying to help them. They deserve a chance to be happy.”

You tried not to roll your eyes at that. You’ve heard the sappy “they complete me” bullshit too many times and you’re sick of it. No one person should be the entire catalyst for your happiness. “A relationship alone isn’t going to make me happy,” you said a little too forcefully.

Mingyu met your gaze, “It could help,” and he had that same handsome smile that he’s used on baristas and waitresses and women whose dogs are attracted to his own puppy-like energy and demanding his attention. “They said it’s okay,” Mingyu looked over to Wonwoo. “If they change their mind, we’ll just call it off entirely. No punishments.”

Wonwoo immediately fumbled with his controller, brows raised as he looked at Mingyu and mouthed “punishments?”

You pumped a fist in the air as your character continued to soar over the area, thereby declaring you the winner of the long-jump competition they’d been having. There was an achievement for playing all the minigames on their own, but you were happy with just doing better than Wonwoo.

His thoughts were shoved to the side as he looked back at you, “That didn’t count--”

“Yes it absolutely does!”

“I was distracted,” he smiled, lightly elbowing you. “Start it again.” He looked over to Mingyu, “Are we ordering dinner?”

Wonwoo had his reasons to be doubtful of this whole affair. While you had never told him anything except that your ex-boyfriend was shitty towards you, he had picked up on a few things. What kind of person motivated you to move from your last home into the city? The work was better was what you told him, but there was plenty of stuff you could do from your home that paid equally as well. But he’d notice the way you’d tense up when you saw someone in the distance, only to let out a sigh of relief when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. He’d noticed that things weren’t... right. Like you were afraid of something that you weren’t ready to tell him about. Wonwoo had his own theories, sure, but he wasn’t going to push you to talk about any of it. That was your step to take. All he could do was be your friend and accept it all with open arms and a place to feel safe.

(You weren’t ready to take that step. Saying it made it real, after all, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be ready for that.)

Mingyu took a look at the rest of the movies and decided to save the work for later. “I’ll cook,” he said, despite there was still half the shelf to finish organizing. Dinner should take priority considering you were there. You were already focused on beating Wonwoo again at a silly little minigame that had no real impact on the story, although he heard the quiet “yesss” you had hissed when said he’d be cooking. He lightly flicked the back of your head right as your character went to jump, and his plan worked as you preoccupied yourself with swatting at his hand while your character (May? Mabel? Something like that) plummeted to the ground.

“That’s cheating!” You cried out, reaching out to smack him as he dodged away. “You dick!”

He just laughed as he made his way to the kitchen, listened to Wonwoo egg you back into a fair attempt at the dumb little swing minigame the two of you had messed up twice now. He liked the way you laughed, curling back up on your end of the couch, and the animated way you’d later start yelling at Wonwoo to do that but left--not that left, less left, come on, we’ve gotta save these fuckers’ marriage!

Mingyu wasn’t stupid. He could tell something was going on based on the worried way Wonwoo acted alone. But he wanted to help you. If that meant setting you up with people he knew would treat you kindly, even in rejection... then he’ll do that.

A week later came guy number three in the form of a preschool teacher named Seokmin. He already ticked off your boxes: warm, friendly, safe. He admitted to liking music as a hobby, and you already knew that Mingyu must have said something considering Seokmin was quick to clarify that he preferred his job with the kids more. Finger painting with tiny kids was fun even when the paint ended up more on him than them. It was a cute mental image, at least.

He took you on a walk through a scenic garden, promising to buy you ice cream afterward. You told him that you could pay for yourself, but he insisted. He had brought you there, he could treat you, and if there was a second date, you could make it up to him. That was fair, wasn’t it?

To be honest... You didn’t remember much about this date. Sure, Seokmin was nice, and sweet, and just as warm as Mingyu told you he’d be. But he turned you down in the end.

“You seem nice,” was what he had started with. “But it really feels like... you’re looking for something else right now.” He gave you a tight hug. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m happy to listen.”

You never did... but you did appreciate the offer. Mingyu told you next week that he received a pretty bouquet of flowers from an anonymous sender, thanking him for being kind. All you could do was force out a “That sounds nice” while you crumpled the receipt and threw it out.

Mingyu took you out for dinner. He claimed it was his way of “gathering intel,” but truthfully Wonwoo had been busy and the two of you had wanted to go out and do something for once. You’d hung out with Mingyu one-on-one plenty of times, so going out for dinner wasn’t a big deal. The biggest deal was the debate you two had about whether you wanted to just get takeout and go find a nice place to eat it, or go out and actually enjoy eating in a restaurant for once. Mingyu won that battle with ease, because all he had to do was potentially mention any sort of bugs for you to decide you’d rather be comfortable inside somewhere. You managed to get a nice table in the corner of the room, and Mingyu offered to grill the meat for you.

And he pried a little more than you expected him to, asking about your last relationship.

You merely sighed and shrugged, finally giving him an answer. “We got in a really bad fight and that was what ended it.”

He found that hard to believe. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who fights.” Play fights, sure, but the actual screaming match that you implied? The messy, ugly kind of fight to end a relationship? That didn’t seem like you.

“I dunno,” you absentmindedly hugged yourself for a moment. “Plenty of people fight.“

Mingyu stopped paying attention to the meat he’d been grilling and watched you as you closed in on yourself. It wasn’t the first time, and... he didn’t think it’d be the last. But something about the way you said that, gaze settling outside and beyond, that struck something with him,

Oh.

He changed the topic. “What did you like about the past three guys?” He said, looking back at what he was doing. Thankfully, nothing had burned while he’d been preoccupied watching you. “I still feel like you and Joshua would have gotten along well...”

“They were all fine,” you said with a shrug, arms no longer curling around yourself. All of them had been friendly and sweet and safe. “Maybe it’s just me,” you laughed halfheartedly, “Maybe I’m just not the lovable kind.”

“You are,” Mingyu said without hesitating, that playful tone gone. “Everyone is capable of being loved.”

The tiny urge to laugh it off, to claim that maybe you weren’t, was beat down hard by yourself. Mingyu didn’t seem the kind of person who’d just let that slip by again, and maybe he’d start figuring it all out if you did try to press it further. So you changed the topic again, asking about what his coworkers had been up to since he always seemed to have some sort of drama to dish out. He seemed to take the bait, happy to start talking about how one of the waiters was still subtly flirting with his fellow chef and that he’d been trying to encourage her to just go for it because the feeling was clearly mutual. You just sort of nodded along, half-listening as the words stuck out to you still.

Everyone is capable of being loved, and... yet there you sat across from him, frustrated with the idea of accepting it.

Man number four was Seungcheol. Mingyu had set the dinner up between the two of you. Seungcheol genuinely seemed perfect. Funny, sweet, charming...

... and too fucking observant for his own good. Maybe it wasn’t him being observant, though. You saw a man across the restaurant, face too familiar, and you’d stopped listening to whatever work thing he’d been talking about. You were fidgety, trying to figure things out. His nose was wrong. The profile itself was off. His hair wasn’t that light the last time you saw him.

Seungcheol had stopped talking. Something about the look of fear on your face was familiar to him. He pulled out his wallet, flipping through business cards until he found one that he’d been given a long time ago by a friend. “I think,” he said, getting your attention back, “you could use this.”

He reached out, laying down a card in front of you. A therapist’s name, office, and number were neatly printed across the middle of it.

“One of my friends went through something similar to you, I think. He said the rates weren’t bad for an hour.”

Shit. “Seungcheol, I don’t--”

He shook his head. “It’s okay.” He read you too damn well for a first meeting, but if he had a friend who truly went through what you did... then maybe he could just tell. “Mingyu talked very highly of you. If things are bad, he’ll help you.”

Something inside of you broke. You sniffled, taking the card and jamming it into your own wallet. “I’m so sorry--”

Neither of you had ordered yet, and the water was free. So Seungcheol easily guided you out of the restaurant, careful to not overwhelm you any further. He had apologized to the staff gently, saying that an emergency came up instead. It felt smooth and easy while you could already feel that urge to cry build stronger and stronger inside of you. He curled an arm around you outside, gently talking you through it. When he offered to drive you home, you let him, holding yourself together in the passenger seat until he reached your building.

He gently patted you on the arm. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “Let me know how it goes.”

Despite the fact that Seungcheol was still a stranger to you, you nodded. If he was willing to give you the information offhand (you had to wonder why he had the card, to be honest), then maybe you could learn to trust people a little more. He told you that he’d just tell Mingyu he changed his mind about dating, but to give you some space since things had gone well. It’d been a lie, sure, but one you welcome happily.

The moment you were back in the safety of your home, you nearly collapsed. It was like someone had cut your strings and set you loose, the weight of knowing and realizing heavy upon your shoulders. You kicked off your shoes, not caring to even try to find your slippers as you dragged yourself to bed. It took everything you had to hold yourself together, to change for bed, to look at yourself one more time in the mirror while you were washing your face. When you walked back into your bedroom, you opened your closet to see that same box sitting in the corner, still taped shut.

You shut the doors. Maybe tomorrow, you told yourself.

(You didn’t. You made an appointment instead.)

Two weeks later, Mingyu continued to give you the space that you needed. He’d checked in on you a few times, brought over a meal once, but for the most part he had left you alone. You didn’t know what Seungcheol had said to him, to be honest, but he had hugged you over a week ago and told you to call whenever you needed him. That he was always right there, all you had to do was ask. Instead, you decided to tell Wonwoo. You weren’t ready to face Mingyu with your truth yet. He’d been busy with work anyway. You’d maybe lied a few times over the past few days that you were too busy with your own job to talk, but he never pushed it.

Wonwoo made you tea, and held you when you cried to him, and he told you he was sorry you had to hold all of this in for so long. That you couldn’t find refuge sooner, but that he (and Mingyu, too) would always be there for you unless you didn’t want him to be. You were safe now. You had him and you had Mingyu and you had the rest of your friends. No one was going to let you get hurt again. Not like that.

Your first appointment had been early last week, and you felt happy with the way Wonwoo lit up at hearing you were getting help. You’d be seeing her again next week, too. It was only an hour long session each time, and the price wasn’t awful, but she had told you that maybe you’d be able to go to monthly appointments within a few months. You made enough money to support bimonthly meetings, at least, especially with the amount you’d saved up. Wonwoo supported that wholeheartedly, too.

“I think she might be able to actually help, too,” you told him.

Wonwoo approached the subject he’d admittedly been wanting to ask about. “Do you want to end this deal with Mingyu? I’ll talk to him if you do. No one will owe anyone anything.”

You shook your head. “He has one last chance,” you said. “Anyway, I’ll tell Mingyu everything myself, but... just give me some time, okay?”

Wonwoo hugged you tight. He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone--not unless you were actually in danger, and even then he’d seek out your blessing.

“I love you,” he said, arms warm around you. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

You nodded, hugging him tight before wiping at your tears before they could spill again. You loved him, too.

While you weren’t going to tell Mingyu about your past yet, you were going to see him before the day was over. He had told you once he’d try to take breaks around nine, just to get a few minutes of fresh air before he had to be back inside. You sat outside, enjoying the warm air while you could, just waiting. The door opened, you heard Mingyu call your name, and looked up to see him bounding toward you. He quickly pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tight. Two weeks away and you’d missed him, honestly.

“You have one last try, okay?” You told him, your hands at his biceps as you stand back to look him in the eyes.

“One more,” he promised, “and then I’ll stop.”

You just smiled at him. “So make it count.”

You weren’t “fixed,” if you could call it that. One therapy appointment wouldn’t undo everything, but you felt confident. Mingyu wouldn’t know for a while that you spilled everything to your therapist during your first appointment, and she let you. Everything was out in the open, ready to be addressed. You’d never know what she wrote down exactly, but you felt good knowing she was taking notes. The two of you could figure things out together while your support network stood behind you. But you did mention to Mingyu that Seungcheol had been the one to give you the card.

Mingyu kept you around for the rest of his break, generally catching up with you. It was nice, and he wished he could have brought you a small sample of dessert or something just to give you a little something sweet. Maybe next time if you told him you were coming, he could bring you just a little something to sweeten your day like you sweetened his. One of his coworkers stepped out, calling out to him that things were starting to pick back up, and you quickly excused yourself with a promise to talk to him more later. Mingyu watched you walk away, smiling to himself.

“Was that them?” Jun asked as Mingyu started to head back inside, already going to wash his hands.

Mingyu looked up, and then smiled again. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s them.”

Jun could see the way he lit up when Mingyu told him your name. “Are you really going through with it?”

Mingyu nodded, drying off his hands. He already had that pretty twinkle in his eye when he looked back at Jun. “I think I will.”

All you were given was a time and a place to be and the comment to look nice. When you asked what he meant by “nice,” all he said was to not wear jeans. You looked up the location, figured that it was a river cruise with a buffet, and knew that Mingyu was pulling out the stops for this one. Whether it was his idea or this mystery guy’s, you weren’t sure. He refused to tell you a single detail about who he was, what he looked like, his number... and, honestly, it was starting to bother you. You’d been standing, waiting by yourself since you didn’t have the tickets on your phone for the cruise. It was getting closer and closer to the boarding time. The website said at least twenty minutes, and it was getting close to that cutoff.

“Sorry I’m late,” you felt a hand gently press between your shoulder blades, and you were greeted with the sight of a bouquet of red roses before anything else. Mingyu stepped into the space next to you. His hair had been combed back, and he was wearing a suit. “I brought these for you.”

You looked from the flowers back to his face, watching the pretty way he’d been smiling at you. He looked dashing, sure, but... Mingyu?

“We should board soon,” he told you after you accepted the flowers. He extended a hand to you. “Unless you want to go somewhere else?”

You just stared at him.

“Well?”

You nodded, and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

His fingers intertwined with yours as he pulled out his phone, showing the tickets before the two of you boarded the boat. He let go of your hand, walking ahead with that same fond smile on his face when he looked back at you. He nodded toward where the buffets were ahead, and you hurried to catch up with him.

You didn’t feel that dread you’d felt with the others. Maybe the therapy was helping, or maybe it was because it was Mingyu.

Mingyu was safe in a different way, and you embraced that with everything you had. Dinner was nice. The hour and a half long cruise passed by quicker than you expected. He had held your hand as he walked with you through the city for a bit. Soon enough he’d take you back to your apartment, standing outside and gazing at you with that same warm look in his eyes.

So you kissed him. It was impulsive, sure, but you simply just wanted to, like something inside of you had been drawn forward. He kissed you back, hands falling at your waist to steady you against him. When he pulled away, he could see this starstruck look in your eyes already; lips parted, a pretty flustered look he could fall for over and over again, and then he hesitated. You’d kissed him, sure, but he was afraid he rushed this. He’d kiss you properly if you’d let him have another date.

“You won.”

“I... won?”

“I said,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I said three dates.”

“And this is our first--”

“Third.” You corrected. “You took me out for coffee. We went out for dinner. This is three. Unless you really want to take me out for two more dates--”

He shook his head, only to realize how that looked. “I do! But not for this deal,” he reached up, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek. “Then... does that mean I can have a favor now?”

“Within reason,” you said. “You already know what you want?”

He smiled. “Let me love you,” he said quietly. “If you say no, I understand--”

You stopped him there. “I’m a work in progress,” you told him. “And I know it’s going to be hard. I’m working on it.”

He nodded.

“Do you still want me?”

He smiled again. “If you’ll have me.”

So you kissed him again, safe and secure in his arms. The roses fell from your hands as you held onto him, letting this moment just belong to you and Mingyu and nothing else. Maybe you could believe in love again, if it felt like this.

And if it did? Then you definitely wanted to.

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you

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scarlett-vixen · 2 years

Note

okok sorry if this is too specific, but i’ve been having SO much brainrot about this lately. so i have this blanket, and i’ve literally slept with it since i was born. i have to keep it with me at night or else i get no rest whatsoever lol. it’s honestly my most prized possession. i’ve cried into it when i’m sad, i’ve brought it on vacations, and it always calms me down. to further illustrate just how important this blanket is to me, one time my mom suggested that i get a new blanket and i literally cried at the thought of getting rid of it.

HHH anyway, i was wondering if you could do some hcs of the bros with an MC who has a comfort object that’s really precious to them. maybe they have a bad day and MC gives them the comfort object as a way of saying “i love you, i trust you completely and i want you to feel better.” if you don’t want to do all the brothers, just beel would be great :3 (again sorry if this is too specific but i love your writing sm)

Hello nostalgia is that you??? Anon you pulled a core memory from my brain I totally forgot about!!! I used to have a comfort blanket when I was little also??? And a stuffed cat that I could NOT sleep without, both of them are at my moms house now and I deeply miss them sometimes :( ANYWAY this was so cute I had to do something for it immediately!!! I chose three brothers who I felt would need a comfort item themselves lmao I hope this is what you wanted 💖💖

❤️MC with a comfort item + sharing it with the brothers (Beel, Mammon, Levi)❤️

BEELZEBUB

Beel is typically one of the happiest brothers, it’s rare to find him upset, but sometimes he has trouble sleeping at night. Many times he’s come to you looking for comfort after a bad nightmare or just someone to hang out with until he can fall asleep again.

• The low grumble of his stomach woke Beel from his slumber. It had been a rough night, tossing and turning for the majority of it, finally falling asleep about three hours before his alarm was supposed to go off. The sixth born sat up and pulled off his covers only to find your blanket covering his lap, in a panic he searched his bed to see if you were being crushed underneath him. He later found you in your room and returned the blanket.

“I’m not sure how this ended up with me but I know you need it, sorry I had it somehow…” He apologized.

“Oh! I gave it to you last night, I was passing by to get a glass of water and heard you having another nightmare. I decided you needed it more than me so I covered you with it!” You replied.

Beel’s heart fluttered, the fact that you would give him your blanket just so he could sleep better meant the world to him. He would make sure to repay you in the future.

MAMMON

Mammon does his best (or so he thinks) to stay out of trouble, however he still finds himself in one of Lucifer’s punishments at least twice a week. He likes to act tough and pretend they don’t bother him, but deep down they’re starting to chip away at him.

• Another failed money scheme and another painful punishment over with, Mammon sat on the floor of your room sulking. You could tell with each punishment he went through a little more of his spirit would break, this one had been particularly rough to the point where Mammon wasn’t even complaining like he normally did. Instead, he sat on the floor next to your bed with his knees tucked into his chest and a pout on his face. You tried talking to him but he just shrugged you off, so you did the only other thing you could think of.

“What’s this?”

“It’s my blanket!”

“Well yeah I know that! I meant why are ya givin it to me?” The second born held your blanket in his hands and gave you a puzzled look.

“When I feel bad or if I need to cry, my blanket usually makes me feel better, even if it’s just crying into it.” You answered with a meek smile. “I thought maybe you could hold onto it for a while and it might make you feel better.”

“The Great Mammon don’t need a blanket to feel better!” He stated as he pulled your blanket in close to his chest. It smelled just like you, and you always made him feel safe. “But I’ll hold it if it makes you feel better.” Tears were already forming in the corner of his eyes.

LEVIATHAN

Levi’s social anxiety is known throughout the Devildom, his brothers are well aware and will do their best to look out for him. Sometimes they get sidetracked though and Leviathan is left to his own devices.

• It’s just a small get together! It won’t last more than an hour! It’ll be over before you know it! We’ll be here the whole time to help you! Those were the lies his brothers had fed him over four hours ago before their home was filled with fifty plus demons. Now he was alone in a sea of people he didn’t even know and his brothers were nowhere to be seen. The walls felt like they were closing in, Levi could feel a panic attack coming on, but there was nowhere safe to go. He wanted to retreat to his room but the path was blocked with dozens of demons mingling. He didn’t care anymore, he wanted to be alone, he hated this! Levi made a dash for his room, once there he dropped to the floor in tears. Why did his brothers always insist on things like this? Why would they leave him alone like that? As he cradled his head in his hands, Levi felt something touch his shoulders, he jumped slightly only to find you kneeling next to him.

“W-what are you doing?” He looked at his shoulders and saw your blanket draped over him.

“I knew you were getting anxious so I went to go find this for you, but by the time I got back you had vanished. I figured I would find you here though.” You smiled at him.

Levi knew how much this blanket meant to you, you had mentioned before about your comfort blanket, he always considered getting one himself. Knowing you would give him your blanket at a time like this made him feel better already, you really were his true friend.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #the void responds #help this was so cute I’m so emotional about it :(

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Dean’s Day

Summary: The reader is missing Dean one day. Jensen decides she doesn’t have to miss him at all and allows the reader, and even Dean, the opportunity to have a fun day together...

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Dean x reader

Square: Quote C “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, nudity

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo and all my Dean girls out there...

________

“Hey,” said Jensen. He leaned over the back of the lounger in the home office, resting his chin on top of your head. “Whatcha reading?”

“Fanfic,” you said, scrolling up on your tablet a smidge.

“Is it that smutty one that you sent me yesterday that has that epic cliffhanger?” he asked. “I’m still waiting for that chick to update.”

“Patience is a virtue. And no, this is a short story,” you said, bookmarking it when you got to the bottom. Jensen plucked it out of your hands before you knew it though and quickly was frowning.

“This is a finale rewrite,” he said, handing it back to you. “You still pissed over that ending huh.”

“Not as pissed as I was. But I just won’t ever like it. I just...don’t like to think that Dean never really got to live a normal safe life. It wasn’t fair to him.”

“No it wasn’t. I wish he got better,” he said. He smiled and sat down beside you, taking out his phone. He tapped for a moment before showing it to you, a mostly black image on the screen but a few words making your eyes widen. “Back in Black. I thought it was a fitting title for the reboot.”

“They’re remaking the show already?” you said. You scowled and he started to laugh. “It’s been less than a-“

“My reboot. Our reboot. Honey ain’t nobody else gonna do my boy justice,” he said. You took the phone out of his hands and stared at the image longer.

“Is that a devil’s trap in the fading?” you asked. He hummed and took the phone back. “Wait. I-”

“That’s enough spoilers for one day,” he said. He kissed your temple and you stood up, Jensen already heading out of the room. “So glad I didn’t tell you about Dean’s girlfriend.”

“Dean’s getting a girlfriend!” you said, bouncing up and down on your toes. “Like, a real relationship?”

“Maybe,” he said with a big ass smirk. “It’s all in pre-production right now. A select few are brainstorming ideas. But I’m not telling you more. I want you to be spoiler free and enjoy it like everybody else.”

“Spoiler free didn’t work out so well last time,” you said. He shrugged and rocked back on his heels. “Alright, alright. Spoiler free.”

“Awesome. Oh. I gotta duck out for like the rest of the day. I’ll catch you tonight,” he said.

“Uh,” you said, Jensen already gone. He headed upstairs and you looked around, trying to figure out what prank he was pulling on you today. Nothing seemed off and by the time you were upstairs and getting to your bedroom door, Jensen was stepping out in a different flannel and t shirt. “I mean I don’t mind if you have plans for the day. I-“

“I don’t got any plans sweetheart,” he said.

“You just said-“

“Who just said?” You raised an eyebrow, taking a beat for it all to click. That specific flannel with that specific shirt. That specific slight drop in his voice.

“Jensen.”

“Yeah he’s gonna be back later. He said you get me today to do with as you please,” he smirked.

“Jens-”

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” He pressed a finger to your lips and pecked a quick kiss to your cheek. You stared at him and he clasped his hands behind his back, twirling his hips as he stood in place.

“Dean.”

“Yes?” he asked.

“So you’re Dean today,” you said. He hummed and nodded, lifting up onto his tip toes and falling back down. “And I can do whatever I want to you.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p.

“Alright, Dean. How you still alive after that finale? Something to do with Back in Black I heard?” You grinned and he narrowed his eyes, a sliver of Jensen coming through.

“Oh that’s on a need to know basis sweetheart. Just know I ain’t gone anywhere,” he said. “Alive and kicking. You gonna play it that way today cause our mutual friend gave me permission to do as I please too if you start acting up.”

“Dean, sweetie,” you said. “You’re an even bigger bottom than Jensen. Let’s not pretend you aren’t.”

You patted his ass as you walked past, humming and slipping out of the room.

“Come on Dean. I have things I want to do with you today.”

“Oh Dean,” you called from where you lounged in your chair beside the pool. Dean waggled a few fingers from where he floated around on a mat in the water, eyes shut behind a pair of sunglasses. “Would you like to order some sandwiches for lunch? It’s supposed to rain soon.”

“Alright,” he said with a stretch.

“Head on up to the bathroom for me. I’ll be there in just a minute,” you said. He hummed and rolled off the float, swimming and dragging along the mat until he took it out and tossed it in the pool toy box tucked against the fence. He headed inside wrapped in his towels while you picked up a few things. You stopped in the kitchen and put in an order for an hour from then, heading on upstairs, the house darker with the clouds rolling in.

You found him in the bathroom, swim shorts and towel in the basket, halfway into the shower. A tsk left your lips and he froze, looking back over his shoulder.

“No, no,” you said. You went to the tub and turned on the water, getting it to a nice temperature and plugging it. Your bathing suit came off and you gathered up his shampoo and conditioner from the shower along with your body wash. “Dean.”

You held out a hand and he took it, allowing you to pull him into the rising water with you, a smidge of Jensen coming through as he realized what you were about to do, an experience he himself had had more than once when he got too stressed out.

“What’s up sweetheart?” he said, leaning closer as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Close your eyes,” you said. He shut his and you turned him around, sliding him back against your chest. You wrapped one arm around his waist and he let out a sigh. “When’s the last time you took a bath Dean?”

“No idea. Probably a kid,” he said, resting his head back as you started to scoop water up and over his hair to get it wet. “You gonna wash my hair?”

“Yes I am. I like to wash Jensen’s hair sometimes. He’s not so good about relaxing and letting himself be taken care of every once in a while.” He was quiet, humming softly. “He’s better about it lately though.”

“He appreciates it,” he said. You leaned forward and hit off the water, grabbing his shampoo. You squirted some in your hands and put it on his head, working it into a lather. “Feels nice.”

“Good. A spa day never hurt anyone, especially retired hunters,” you said.

“You know, in the meantime, until you get a confirmation I mean, I think you should consider me alive and well.”

“Oh really? So what are you up to these days then?” you said, giving his scalp a good scrub that made him hum deeply.

“Been hanging with my boy a lot. Driving around. Golfing. Swimming. Boating. Concerts. He really loves you. He loves me too.”

“He’s pretty great,” you said.

“What about you sweetheart? You love me?”

“Yes I do.” You kissed his cheek and smiled. “What about you? You interested in any-“

“Sh. Back to bath cuddling,” he said.

“Alright Dean. Whatever you want today.”

“You have some pretty nice cuddles I gotta say,” he said late that night as you lay in bed together. His head was resting on your shoulder, arm over your waist. “Thanks for today. Never really got to have a girl to take care of me before.”

“I’m always here if you ever want that again. Until you can get a girlfriend in the future at least,” you said.

“I’ll take you up on that. I’m always here if you need me too sweetheart,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, kissing his temple. “Tell Jensen thanks for today.”

“I will. I’ll see you around soon. Later sweetheart,” he said, lifting his head and giving you a soft, slow kiss.

“Later Dean,” you said. You closed your eyes and heard him shift on the bed. “Hi Jensen.”

“Hi honey. How was your day?” he asked.

“Good,” you said, smushing your face into his chest. “I love you so much.”

“Take care of our boy?” he asked.

“Jay.”

“I know you did. I don’t know about you but I’m beat after that day of pampering,” he said.

“Honey. Thanks for that,” you said.

“I did it for him too,” he said. You hugged him and he returned it, snuggling into your side. “Night sweetheart.”

“Night Jens. And Dean.”

_______

#tell me a story bingo #SPN #supernatural #jensen x reader #dean xreader #jensen ackles #dean winchester #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester x reader

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itgirlification · 3 years

Text

supermodel (2) | jjk

your story with jungkook never seems to end, yet you’re still worried about how it’s gonna end.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: TOXIC (i cannot stress this enough shit is hella toxic), yn is kinda (very) dumb, jungkook is an actual asshole, borderline mental abuse, infidelity, more insecuritiiiies, mentions/hints of sex, etc.

part one part three

There you were in his arms again, with only your panties and his shirt on.

At this point, you couldn’t even explain yourself. You were guilty, but you know what they say; love hurts.

With his arms wrapped around you and you clinging to him like that, you couldn’t care less about what was gonna happen next. You knew you were probably gonna have a mental breakdown when you go back to the dorms but for now, you were okay.

After he came over that night, he contacted you again. He said he didn’t want this to be serious, he wanted it to be a solely sexual relationship.

“You know, you’re the first girl I’ve been with, who seems to like getting hurt and degraded”, he sighs against your hair. “Sometimes I feel like you can’t get enough of it.”

You stayed silent. What were you supposed to do anyway? Tell him he’s right and stay like this for a while or react defensively and start an endless argument? You chose the first one.

“You’re the only woman that’d let me do all this stuff and still love me. Maybe that’s why I came back to you.”

Holding back the tears, you cling closer to his larger body, as if you were using him as some kind of shield. He thought you were an easy target and forgiving. What else would a man want from a woman he was only interested in fucking, a side piece? Even if she’s in love with him, she was gonna ignore that just to spend as much time with him as possible.

“It’s not like you actually came back.”, you responded, keeping your voice as stable as you could. “We’re just fucking.”

Jungkook sighed deeply, most likely noticing your petty undertone. “Don’t be like that. We aren’t fucking right now.”

You weren’t sure what point exactly he was trying to prove, you agreed to be his side chick. Did he think you didn’t know what a side chick was supposed to do? Because you did know, you just secretly thought you guys were meant to be, you weren’t just some side piece.

Looking around the motel room, your stomach began feeling weird. He wasn’t usually cheap, but you guessed he thought a side chick didn’t deserve a better environment than a cheap motel room rent for a night.

“Because we literally just did.”, you calmly said. You weren’t trying to piss him off.

But Jungkook wasn’t having it. Out of nowhere, he shoved you aside and put his hands over his face, noticeably frustrated.

“What happened?”, you weren't sure if asking that was the best option.

Jungkook turns his body to you. “What happened?? You keep on fucking me up and being a bitch about all this and you ask me what happened?”

He was so furious, his eyes were dark and his face was screwed up. You were now both standing, his tall figure towering over yours.

You saw his hand forming a fist and it would’ve been a lie if you said you weren’t terrified. He hasn’t touched you once throughout your relationship, but you never know.

“I didn’t even say anything. Maybe you’re just a little too sensitive.”, you were pouring salt on a wound at this point, but you didn’t want to be weak and let him talk to you like that.

“Me, sensitive?”, his tone was dangerously serene, as he leaned closer to your face. “If I wasn’t here with you, you'd probably still be crying over me. And you know where I’d be? Laying in bed with the beautiful model I have the privilege to call my girlfriend. Yn, I don’t need you. Don’t get bold with me, ‘cause we both know who’s gonna be heartbroken in the end.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, what did you get yourself into again? This wasn’t Jungkook’s fault, this wasn’t anybody’s fault but yours. You should’ve never opened up, you should’ve never said yes to being his side piece, you should’ve never been his girlfriend, to begin with. You stayed silent, but your loud sniffs and your uneven breathing said more than you could at the moment.

“I’m leaving.”, he announced coldly before throwing his black leather jacket over his broad shoulders, leaving you half-naked, crying on the poor-quality motel bed you just had sex on. When he got out of the motel room, you looked outside of the small window, watching him leave in the car he drove you here with.

Now, you had no other option than to call Jane to pick you up since your dorm was a half an hour walk away from the motel and you didn’t have the energy to walk for even a minute.

You weren’t sure if you had the energy for all the questions Jane was gonna ask you when she sees your mascara smeared face and your messy hair. Not to mention the motel. You weren’t a motel type of girl and she knew that.

Still, you called her and she answered almost immediately. “Yn? What happened? I thought you were gonna sleepover at your parents’?”

Sleepover at your parents’ house? You had almost forgotten the bad lie you told Jane just to have sex with Jungkook in this cheap-ass motel. And to think you were convinced you two were gonna stay the whole night.

“Uh”, you quickly coughed to cover up the voice cracks you got from crying. “Yeah, it’s a long story, please pick me up. I’ll text you the address.”

About 10 minutes later, Jane arrived and looked at you like you were out of your mind when you got into the car. “Yn, what the fuck? I was so worried about you. And this isn’t your parents’ house, this is a fucking motel. Did you meet a guy? Did he do something to you? Should I call the cops?”

“No, no, no, oh my god, please don’t”, you knew she was gonna ask a lot of questions. “I lied to you. So what actually happened was me and Jungkook reconnected an-“

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it was Jungkook. So I’m guessing he left you here?”

You hesitantly nodded.

“So when were you gonna tell me you ‘reconnected’ with him? When did you even ‘reconnect’ with him?”, she mockingly asked you. You weren’t blaming her for being pissed off, you’d have been too in this situation.

“A month ago? I think..”, you muttered.

“Hm”, Jane nodded, sighing at your naivety. “And when did he even break up with his model chick?”

You awkwardly looked away and Jane was hoping it wasn’t because of what she thought.

“He didn’t break up with her??”, Jane was beyond frustrated. “So.. you’re like his side chick now? Are we gonna stoop that low for men, yn?”

Jane always wanted the best for you and you knew she knew what was the best for you too, you were just too foolish. And too in love with a man you can’t force into loving you again.

“I know but please can we not talk about this right now? I just don’t feel like it.”, you asked, looking down on your fingers, ashamed of yourself.

“Alright, I’m sorry, babe.”, Jane hugged your side quickly, before starting the engine and heading back to the dorm. “You know I just want what’s best for you.”

You nodded, looking out of the window with your head full.

“Bella just texted me and said her birthday party will be 90s themed? Can’t she be a little more specific?”, Jane barged into the room, looking down on her phone in disbelief.

Bella was a person you two met at college in one of your shared classes. She was a sweetheart, but she was a little spoiled too. The only reason why she got into the college was that her rich daddy bribed them, but you couldn’t be mad, your parents would’ve done the same if they had the money.

She was extremely extroverted, a people person. She probably never had a boring day in her life with all the parties she threw whenever her dad and his 20 something-year-old girlfriend were on vacation or business trips. She even had some celebrity friends and would just casually post selfies with them on her Instagram story like it was a normal thing to do. She was basically living the dream, clueless about what real life for others really was about.

Jane had a love-hate relationship with Bella ever since they met. She thought Bella was a nice girl, but it was ‘unbearable’ to have a conversation with her because she was too self-centered to talk about anything else than herself.

You shrugged. “Just wear something Aaliyah would’ve worn.”

“Hm. Fair enough. It’s really not all that deep, actually.”, She said. “So what are you gonna wear?”

“I don’t even know if I’m going, Bella’s parties are boring.”, you answered honestly.

You really weren’t sure if you’d go. You did feel like seeing people and having a little fun but it wasn’t like you ever had fun at any of Bella’s parties. One time, a guy puked all over a new dress you bought just for the party, and another time, you were forced to drink 4 beer bottles. You hated beer.

“Why not? It’s gonna be fun and you’re coming.”, she decided for you, making you playfully roll your eyes. “And wear that black latex dress, I haven’t seen it on you in forever.”

To say that Jane was a fashionista would be an understatement. She was too invested in fashion to be bothered with anything else.

“Alright, but only if we don’t stay for long.”, you tried to compromise with her.

She nodded. “We gotta buy her presents though. Is there even anything she doesn’t have?”

You sighed, annoyed. “C’mon, there’s gonna be at least 200 people at that party, it’s not like she’ll notice if we just don’t get her anything. Besides, she’s rich as fuck.”

Jane snickered at your comment. “Girl, you must not know her, she checks every damn person and probably throws them out if they don’t buy her a Chanel bag or something. Bitch is a little crazy.”

It was amusing because you both knew that was exaggerated. Bella wasn't that serious about gifts. But let’s just say, for the money that her dad had, she was a little too greedy.

But you were too bothered with your own life than to worry about other's.

As soon as you arrived at Bella’s mansion, two security guards were standing in front of the door. They let you in as you showed them your invitations. It was a little bit extra, but that’s just how Bella was.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the house was the smell of sweat and weed. Already? You weren’t really surprised though.

Bella was standing there, wearing a skintight red dress that, ironically, didn’t really fit her own party’s theme. But she did look absolutely beautiful greeting her guests with the biggest smile on her glowing face. She had her strawberry blonde hair down in elegant beach curls and there were some cute butterfly clips placed in them.

You could recognize that it was her birthday from miles away. She was basically shining.

“Oh my god, Jane, Yn!! I’m so happy to see you guys!”, an overly keen Bella came, hugging you both with strength. “Oh, I see you got me something, girls you know you shouldn’t have!”

She tried hiding her smile at the bags in your hands, freeing the two of you from them immediately.

“It’s your birthday, Bella. We can’t just come here without any gifts, girl.”, Jane smiled. “Happy birthday.”

You looked to your side, admiring Jane’s acting skills. “Happy birthday, Bella! I can’t believe you’re 23 now.”

“I know right, if you were a year younger, you’d be as old as your dad’s girlfriend.”, Jane joked around, making Bella hysterically laugh.

“C’mon, almost everybody’s here already”, Bella excitedly pushed you towards the living room.

The room’s stench was even more unbearable than the one at the entrance, leaving you covering your nose for a second leaving out an ‘oof’.

The 90s trap music was heard extremely loudly through the whole house and there were people dancing and grinding. There were some couples that sat on one of the many couches, acting like they were in their own little world. It wasn’t very pleasant to watch, but you just chose to ignore it. The stench was something you couldn’t ignore though.

You were already bored out of your mind.

A few minutes of pure boredom and dry conversations passed then the music stopped playing and you could hear Bella’s voice calling for everybody’s attention. “I’m gonna open the presents now, so everybody come here and Daphne, please bring the gifts here so I can open them.”

Daphne was Bella’s personal maid. She never really talked, but she did everything she needed to. She brought all the bags to Bella one by one and you could’ve sworn she was trying not to cry out of happiness.

“Oh my god, Jackson”, She cried out as she pulled a pair of Saint Laurent shoes out of a box. “These are so beautiful. You even got the right size. Thank you so mu-“

“Bella, I’m so sorry we’re late, we had to run some errands”, a soft-spoken voice interrupted, making everybody in the room turn her way, just to see the charming model with none other than Jeon Jungkook by her side. Wow.

As soon as you turned your head to see who it was, you turned back around, looking at Jane to make sure she saw what you saw. You sent her a questioning, almost panicking look just for her to shrug.

“Yuki! It’s fine, girl. Come here, I’m opening my presents right now.”, The birthday girl exclaimed, making Yuki immediately hand her her gift.

Jungkook was just walking behind his girlfriend, making no type of noise whatsoever and you prayed he wouldn’t see you.

They sat down at an angle where you couldn’t help but look at them though and you were sure he looked at you for a split second as well. They looked beautiful together.

Bella just continued opening gifts and thanking everybody dearly, but you weren’t paying attention to that. You just zoned out for most of it. Those were a lot of gifts she got.

You couldn’t help but steal another glance at your ex-boyfriend and the girl besides him.

She looked even cuter in real life. Her cheeks had a natural blush to them and her hair was long and healthy. She was thin and her skin tone was warm and even.

You’ve always been insecure about your hyperpigmentation, but she didn’t seem to have any problems with how she looked. She was near damn perfect. Perfect wasn’t real, but if it was, it’d be her.

Jungkook probably never had a problem introducing her to his parents or his friends. You always felt like he had difficulties with that while he was dating you. He just wasn’t confrontational enough to tell you he was ashamed to have you as his girlfriend.

You seemed to be stuck in your place while everybody else was either dancing or making conversation.

Jane was sitting next to you, talking to a girl with blond box braids about a new movie that recently came out. You heard what they were saying, but it sounded like a foreign language to you since you weren’t focused.

“Yn? Are you okay?”, Jane whispered in your ear, hugging your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were invited.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jane. It’s not your fault, I just kind of wanna go home.”

She looked at you apologetically. “Can’t we stay for a little while? I promise it won’t take long, I’m just actually having fun here.”

You had to admit you were being selfish, not just in that moment, but whenever it came to Jungkook. You’ve dragged Jane through all of your shit and never really thought about how she must feel like.

Nodding in response to her. “I’m gonna get myself something to drink.”

You finally stood up from your place, looking around unsure, feeling like you’re taking up so much space wherever you go, even when you were doing absolutely nothing.

You wore the latex dress, but only because Jane insisted and made sure you knew you looked good. She convinced you for maybe a second, but all those insecurities were coming back. You tried sucking in your stomach the whole night, but it just wasn’t enough.

You were asking yourself all kinds of questions. If your arms looked too fat and if your cellulite was visible, if your hip-dips were as noticeable to others as they were to you. You felt like everybody was looking and they were judging really hard.

All you wanted was to fade into oblivion.

You were feeling his eyes on your back and god, you wanted to look too but you fought the urge, just continued walking to the bathroom. You weren’t in the mood to drink after all.

Your gut feeling was telling you he was following, but you ignored it.

Until you were about to close the bathroom door and you saw black timberlands stepping between the door and the doorframe to stop you from closing it.

You sighed, opening the door, resulting in him getting in the bathroom with you.

“Why are you avoiding me?”, the handsome man facing you asked, brown eyes looking deep inside of yours.

“How can I avoid you when you didn’t even try talking to me?”, you asked back, looking away immediately.

You hated how your relationship was just a cycle of him hurting you and coming back, acting like he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he was so good at it too.

He chuckled darkly, letting his eyes glide down your body for a second just to look back into your eyes. “You know exactly what I mean, yn. Don’t play dumb.”

You did know what he meant.

“And? It’s not like I have anything to say to you.”

Jungkook came closer to you, softly wrapping one arm around your waist, whispering in your ear. “You don’t?”

You couldn’t believe how shameless he was, being so close to you while his girlfriend was a few meters away, outside of this door, probably thinking he’s getting her a drink or something. You wondered if he did the same thing to you when you were dating.

“Jungkook, stop. Your girlfriend is here.”, you tried to convince yourself you didn’t want it. “How can you even do this?”

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before, princess.”, He kissed your earlobe. “You can’t possibly think it’s okay when she’s not around, but not okay when she is. It’s the same thing.”

You knew he was right, besides, you were just as guilty as he was. You were messing around with a taken guy and the worst part was, you knew he was taken and you still did it.

“I know, but I wanna end whatever this is”, you hesitated to say. “It’s unhealthy and you already have a girlfriend, why don’t you go and kiss her, why me?”

You were avoiding this conversation ever since this started. Sometimes it’s hard talking about things you don’t actually want to hear about.

“What do you mean?”, Jungkook feigned confusion, but you knew better than to believe him. “It’s easier said than done, yn. We have a history together, you know that.”

“I do, but that’s all we are. History. And we should both get over it.”, you responded.

“But what if I don’t want to?”, it was more of a statement than a question, really. “What if I told you, you’re special to me?”

You were gonna have a meltdown if he continued with this. Why was he so fucking complicated? You knew he didn’t love you so what was it?

“But I’m not. The only reason why you come back is because you think I’m easy material. It’s because you were my first everything and it’s because you know exactly how much you mean to me.”, you cry out, tears coming up to ruin your makeup again. You wished you wouldn’t cry as much as you did. “You know I’ll always let you in, no matter what. I know I’m at fault too here and I’m not blaming you, but please for god’s sake, don’t make it worse on me.”

You looked in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. You felt detached from reality, but not in a good way at all.

Jungkook scoffed, looking down at you. “I know I shouldn’t have tried talking to you. It’s like you can’t even appreciate anybody showing you affection. I’m trying to prove to you, that you aren’t nothing to me and that’s the response that I get. Not everybody’s against you, yn, you’re just too insecure to notice. That’s why you haven’t ever had anybody showing you interest. It’s because you lack confidence and think the world revolves around you. But I did show you interest. In the past and now. But look at you. You haven’t changed at all, still the little yn who compares herself to other girls and thrives off of male attention, because you can’t believe that somebody could love you just for you when there’s skinnier, prettier girls walking around. So what if there are skinnier, prettier girls around? That’s reality, yn.”

You didn’t know what exactly you expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. Looking at him with big, teary eyes, is that really what he thought of you? Of course, it was. Because it was the truth. The cold, hard truth. Not sugarcoated. He knew you better than you wanted him to.

Without a single word leaving your dry lips, you open the door and run out, ignoring him calling your name and the weird stares people were giving you. You needed to find Jane.

Once you found her joking around with a bunch of random people, you go up to her. You most likely looked like you came out of a horror movie.

“Yn? What the fuck happened?”, she lightly took your face in her warm hands and caressed your cheek worriedly.

“Pl- please, can we just go home?”, you whimpered, thankful that everybody was respectful enough to turn around and focus on their stuff instead of ogling at you.

“Sure, sure. Come here”, she took you in her arms and walked you out of the mansion, not caring to say goodbye to anybody.

people who wanted to get tagged in pt. 2:

@1-in-abillion @sarcasmflowsinmyveins @chieftoadturkeynickel @madygswich @kb-bangtanenthusiast

thank you for the support love yall!! 💗

a/n: so i know most of yall probably wanted a happy ending but first of all this probably isn’t the ending:) and i wanted to portray it as realistically as possible. It’s really hard to get out of a toxic relationship especially when you’re so in love with them but i’ll see what i can do to make yn happy cuz girly’s going thru it. Btw this wasn’t proofread so there’s probably so many mistakes and i thought this was very underwhelming but i hope you guys like it thank you!

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brawltogethernow · 3 years

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@mirrorfalls submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

#me every time i read a comic book article by a rag not exclusively about comic books: i know more than you.#marvel #spidey #DCU #MCU critical #mirrorfalls #asks answered #submission #unearthed this and bashed it out in one sitting ... i have not been working on it since you sent it last year XD

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - VIII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,600+

Warning: Mention of sexual assault

Previously on…

“Going along with this plan seems rather unlike you,” Tim finally pointed out to Bruce.

It was the two younger boys and Bruce sitting in the cave.

“Without her help, we would have never been able to get the evidence we need to take down The Court of Owls,” Bruce sighed as he looked up at the screens.

“Yeah, but like you said before, we never use our own as bait,” Tim countered.

“Y/N knows what she’s doing.”

Tim and Damian shared a look.

“Are you certain things have not gone too personal, father?” Damian finally asked.

The personal question finally forced Bruce to tear his eyes away from the screens and look at his son.

His gaze shifted between Tim and Damian. From their looks alone, Bruce realized that his feelings towards Y/N were not as subtle and secret as he wanted.

But Bruce knew better than to answer Damian.

The boy had never been invested in his father’s personal relationships before. Why did he have to start now? And with Y/N?

“What happens if things go south?” Tim challenged.

But Damian answered for his father. “You know he has a plan B and C, Drake. He always does, even if he doesn’t share it.”

Bruce was not about to have a conversation about his love and sex life with his two youngest sons. So, he thought of something to escape and he thought of it fast.

He stood up quickly and faced them. “Mandatory family dinner. Tonight.”

“What!?” Damian screamed in outrage.

“I don’t want to,” Tim whined like a baby, even though he was very much a young man standing at the ripe age of 19.

“Mandatory,” Bruce repeated solidly before leaving the cave.

Damian and Tim shared a look.

“This is your fault,” Tim accused.

“How is it my fault?”

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut about the sexual tension we’re all choking on in this damn mansion!”

“But you don’t disagree. You’ve noticed it as well.”

“I was a little late to the game, but yes,” Tim admitted.

“She’s not like the other ones,” Damian muttered so quietly that Tim almost missed it.

“No, she’s not,” Tim confirmed.

——————

Bruce was slightly surprised to find Y/N sitting at the outdoor pool, reading a book.

She wasn’t in a bathing suit – just shorts and a t-shirt.

Bruce walked over with his hands in the pocket of his slacks.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re starting to like it here.”

She looked up from her book with a smirk. “For the record, I still think we should ‘eat the rich.’”

Bruce smirked. “Right. Of course.”

Y/N eyed him. “Did you need something?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Of course he was coming to try and talk her out of the plan once again.

“Bruce, I’m not changing my mind.”

“Figured you would say that.”

Y/N could see his mind racing. It was obvious he hadn’t stopped thinking about everything that could wrong with. Bruce needed control. And even if he was going into an inevitably dangerous situation, he always had multiple plans to get out alive. Y/N’s involvement made it harder for him to do that.

“Careful,” she warned him playfully, “It’s starting to look like you’re worried about me.”

“I am,” he retorted.

Her amusement vanished. “I didn’t think you worried. Or got scared.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you had realized by now that both of those things happen when you’re involved.”

She didn’t know how to respond that. She really didn’t.

“I also came out here to tell you we’re having a family dinner tonight.” Yes, Dick and Tim were basically living at the manor while they handled this specific case. But it was rare that the whole family ate together. All the boys would come back from patrol at different times. Alfred usually made something and put each of their meals in the oven or fridge for when they got back.

But Bruce made a habit of having mandatory family dinners. They weren’t frequent. And the boys often viewed them as some sort of punishment. But Bruce saw it as a way to remind them all that they were a family. A chaotic and a strange one, but they were still a family.

“It would be nice if you could join us,” Bruce added politely.

Y/N smiled at how obvious it was that he was choosing his words carefully. “It was really hard for you to not me tell what to do, wasn’t it?”

He narrowed his gaze at her from being caught.

She never seemed to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“Yes. I’ll join you.”

Bruce nodded, clearly pleased with her answer.

“Will you miss it?” Bruce surprised her by asking as he looked around at the exterior of the manor, looking almost lost in thought.

“It’s a home,” Y/N sighed. “And even with all the secrets and dark pasts, it’s still filled with happy memories, too. And a family.”

Then she smirked. “Even if it’s a highly dysfunctional one,” she added teasingly.

“Not sure all the boys would agree with you on that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Y/N challenged.

———————

Y/N walked out of her bedroom right as Dick was dragging Damian down the hallway.

“Come on. It’s never as bad as you think it’s gonna be,” Dick tried to tell the boy.

“Why did Todd come? He never comes to family dinner. He doesn’t even see us as his family.”

Dick smirked. “You and I both know that’s not true, no matter how many times he tries to convince everyone – even himself.”

Then both of them noticed Y/N’s presence in the hallway.

“You look pretty,” Dick complimented.

Y/N looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Figured I could make a bit more of an effort.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian huffed before leaving the two of them behind.

Y/N and Dick both laughed lightly at his attitude.

“I’ve never told you how good you are with him,” she thought aloud.

“I don’t know about that…”

Y/N turned to him with an insistent look. “You are. Sometimes I think he listens to you more than Bruce. He looks up to you. I think it’s because…” her words die out.

“What? What you were going to say?”

Y/N still hesitated, but told him anyway. “I think it’s because you’re more available to him…emotionally, I mean.”

“Sometimes I feel like I have to talk to him the same way I do with Bruce. He’s a younger carbon copy of the guy. Just brattier.” Dick sighed. “Deep down, Damian has a good heart and he cares deeply about the people in his life. He’ll just never admit it.”

Y/N nodded.

It did sound like Bruce.

But Y/N never considered Dick would have a similar impact on Bruce that he also had with Damian. She wondered what Bruce would be like today if he had never taken in an orphaned Richard Grayson.

Sometimes Y/N believed Bruce would be completely devoid of any and all emotions if it hadn’t been for an adolescent Dick. His needs and wants as a child had prevented Bruce from turning completely into a callous vigilante with nothing tying him to his own humanity and life.

Y/N was about to continue her walk to the dining room, but Dick softly grabbed her arm.

“Hey, before we walking into the chaos…” Dick cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay after the other night.” He shifted his weight and looked at the ground. “If I was too forward or I misread something or–”

“Dick?” Y/N interrupted with a smug look.

His head shot up to look at her. “Yeah?”

She had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Then she moved into Dick’s space, closing the distance between their bodies and did not stop until they could feel each other’s body heat.

Y/N tipped her head as if she was about to kiss him.

But her lips stopped just a centimeter or two from his.

Dick’s eyes turned menacing once he realized she was messing with him.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered seductively, “we’re okay.”

Then she slipped away quickly and started walking away without him.

“That was cruel!” Dick called after her.

But her only response was her laugher from down the hall.

Dick shook his head, but couldn’t stop his smiling.

Maybe it was avoidance or a distraction from the reality of their relationship. But Y/N couldn’t deny that it was also fun.

—

Dinner was in the formal dining room of the manor. This was the first time Y/N had even stepped foot in the room. The fireplace was even lit. Even when Wayne Manor was hardly trying, it reminded Y/N how out of place she was. “If I have to sit through this bullshit, you’re sitting next to me,” Jason said from behind Y/N, making her jump.

To her horror, Jason pulled out a seat at the head of the table. Two at each end and then two chairs in the middle on both sides.

“Oh, I don’t think–” Y/N stuttered out in panic.

“You’re the guest,” Jason cut her off and gently pushed in the chair when he finally got her to sit.

Damian was already sitting to the right, closer to the other head of the table– probably to be closer to his father.

Jason sat down to the left of Y/N. And when Dick finally caught up to her, he didn’t question Y/N sitting at the head and sat to the right of her.

“Perfect. You’re like our future step mom,” Jason declared.

Damian snickered, despite hating to laugh at Jason’s joke.

But Y/N looked horrified. She was about to jump up and take the remaining middle seat on the other side of Jason. But Tim’s timing was absolutely horrendous.

“Please switch spots with me,” Y/N leaned forward and hissed at Dick.

He smirked. “Absolutely not.”

When he saw her obvious panic, he leaned forward as well and whispered, “That’s payback for earlier.”

Y/N glared at him and huffed.

“Oh, I’m so glad I came,” Jason sighed.

Bruce walked into the room with his head held high. “Tim, no phones. You know better.”

Tim sighed in annoyance but slipped his phone into his back pocket.

Dick leaned to Y/N. “Bruce has a strict ‘no electronics’ rule for family dinners. Phones are forbidden.”

Y/N nodded, even though she would never be so rude as to bring a phone to dinner, especially when she was a guest and this was a literal “manor.”

Somehow Jason had pulled a bottle of red wine from nowhere. Or maybe it had been sitting on the table and Y/N had just missed it.

And Jason had already grabbed Y/N’s glass and gave her a heavy pour. “But drinking is highly encouraged,” he added with a crooked smile.

Y/N barely let him finish pouring before she grabbed the wine and chugged.

When she put the glass back down, Bruce was watching her carefully. She at least had enough shame to sink lower in her chair and give him an apologetic look.

But Bruce was amused more than anything.

He’d never brought a woman to a family dinner like this. And though the situation was not that straightforward, it was still causing him a weird amount of anxiety.

“How are your lessons going, Damian?” Bruce broke the tension with the question.

Damian muttered off what sounded like rehearsed and generic statements about his personal studies.

“I didn’t even know he went to school,” Y/N muttered to Dick as Damian and Bruce talked.

“He doesn’t. He’s technically homeschooled,” Jason answered first. “Which is total bullshit seeing as all of us were forced to go to Gotham Academy with all the spoiled brats of the city.”

“As if it mattered, you died before you were forced to graduate from the stupid establishment,” Damian commented darkly.

Jason beamed and laughed lightly at the comment.

But Dick, Tim, and Y/N all froze and looked to Bruce.

They all knew it was a sensitive topic.

Bruce was clearly trying his hardest not to scold them all night. So he just took in a deep, shaky breath.

“Why get your GED or drop out of high school when you can just get murdered?” Jason offered with enthusiasm.

“Jason,” Y/N warned lowly when she saw the pained look on Bruce’s face that he was trying so hard to hide.

Jason’s death still haunted Bruce and riddled him with guilt – despite the miracle of him being resurrected. Y/N probably knew that more than any of the boys. Maybe only Dick really shared that understanding.

“You’re right,” Jason agreed. “Tonight’s not about me. You’re the guest, Y/N. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got caught in her throat when she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

This was not how she imagined tonight going.

But Alfred – her savior – interrupted with the first course of soup and salad.

Everyone was momentarily distracted with the food.

Y/N hoped it stayed that way.

“Who taught you how to hack?” Damian piped up.

Y/N relaxed at that particular question. “No one. I taught myself.”

“Where’s your family?” Tim asked innocently.

Y/N flipped through all the possible lies she could tell, deciding to go with the one that would lead to the least amount of follow-up questions. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

“We’re estranged,” Y/N mumbled without looking up from her food.

“Parents are overrated,” Jason commented with a smirk.

Dick and Bruce glared at him.

However, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with Jason.

Little did she know that Jason could relate to her upbringing far more than anyone else at the table. Their childhood’s were parallel. Ones neither of them deserved.

Tim instantly felt guilty for asking an uncomfortable question without realizing it.

“Y/N is not here to be interrogated,” Bruce warned the table.

“Well, why don’t you tell us about her, B?” Jason answered. “How exactly did you two meet again?”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. He knew what game this was. The more emotion and reaction he showed, the more it would encourage Jason to continue with such antics. “We worked on a case together a couple years ago,” was all Bruce supplied.

“More like she threatened you into working with her,” Dick mumbled as he tried to hide his smirk by licking his lips.

Y/N kicked him under the table.

“So, Y/N, have you always had a thing for older men?” Jason asked.

She gave him a death glare.

“Jason, come on.” Dick cautioned.

“I mean, you of all people should be curious, Dickie.”

Everyone went quiet.

Jason rolled his eyes and looked around the table. “Oh. Are we all pretending there’s not a weird love triangle going on?”

“I didn’t realize my sex life was up for discussion tonight,” Y/N mumbled.

But it wasn’t just sex was it?

“Why don’t we all go around the table and share!?” Jason suggested loudly. “Dick, you first. What’s your number?”

“Jason that is enough.” Bruce grunted.

But Y/N had it with Jason’s pot stirring and she wasn’t going to let Bruce fight her battles for her.

She snapped her head in Jason’s direction. “I hope you don’t have a sex tape laying around, because I will sell that shit to PornHub faster than you can jerk off,” she threatened.

The words slipped out of Y/N’s mouth so quickly that she had momentarily forgotten that a literal child was also sitting at the dinner table.

Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in shock.

Jason threw his head back with laughter. This was exactly the chaos he was trying to start.

Her eyes whipped to Damian with horror as she blurted out, “I am so sorry!"

“Please, I know what fornication is,” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not so innocent. After all, I was conceived from my mother drugging my father and forcing coitus onto him.”

“I also slept with said mother,” Jason chimed in.

Tim made a disgusted gag noise.

Dick rubbed his face in exhaustion. Y/N’s jaw dropped at this new information.

But when she looked to Bruce, he wouldn’t meet her stare, only further proving it was all true.

This was no laughing matter.

Yet the whole family seemed desensitized by the subject.

Y/N was processing that Bruce had gone through such an assault – and by the mother of his only biological son, nonetheless. “Can Jonathan come over soon for a sleepover, father?” Damian suddenly asked.

The subject change was like whiplash on the entire table.

Y/N couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t just move past what she found out like that.

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce answered.

Clearly he was grateful for his son’s short attention span and his inability to read the room and realize he’d said something entirely inappropriate for the situation.

But Y/N could also see the subtle happiness in Bruce’s eyes from his son asking him such a question. And for that split second, this felt like a normal family.

“Who’s Jonathan?” Y/N asked Dick quietly.

She was trying to follow Bruce’s lead and move on.

“Superman’s son,” Dick provided.

“And literally Damian’s only friend,” Jason added.

“I heard that!” Damian shouted.

“I meant you to!”

“Put that knife down, Damian.” Bruce warned. “What have I told you?”

Damian lowered his head in shame. “The knives at the dinner table are for eating, and are not to be used as weapons under any circumstance.”

The table suddenly erupted into various conversations. Tim started talking Wayne Enterprises business with Bruce. Damian and Jason were shooting insults at each other. Alfred brought in another course.

Dick and Y/N shared a moment.

She sighed, realizing that the worst of it was probably over now.

‘Sorry,’ Dick mouthed to her.

‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed back.

The dinner continue with filet mignon, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom bordelaise, and – thankfully – more wine.

Maybe Jason had helped them all in a way by airing out all their dirty laundry immediately and getting it over with so they could move on.

But as Y/N looked around the table, listening to the boys and Bruce talk, she realized that maybe – just maybe – she didn’t want to leave.

—

Alfred put all the boys to work cleaning the dishes after dinner.

But he refused to allow Y/N to help. Once a guest always a guest.

Alfred handed Y/N a fresh glass of wine and told her to wait in the drawing room and that he’d bring dessert within the hour.

Y/N knew better than to argue with him and did as she was told.

There was a roaring fire in the room, pulling her to it.

“Please don’t take anything Jason said personally,” Bruce said from behind her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. “He loves to start drama. That’s for fucking sure.”

“He’s constantly trying to get back at me. You weren’t his target. I was. But I apologize that you were caught in the crossfire.”

She turned away from the fireplace to face him.

Her eyes were heartbroken and worried.

“You never told me about…” she hesitated, “about Damian’s mother. I-I had no idea.”

“I try not to speak of it. No matter what happened in the past, Talia is still Damian’s mother.”

“But she still–”

“I’m fine,” Bruce cut her off. “Really, Y/N. I came to terms with it long ago.”

He was irritated, but too preoccupied with comforting Y/N to face the dark truth of how Damian was conceived.

“Well, if you need to ta–”

“I know, Y/N. Thank you.”

Their moment was interrupted by the boys trampling in the drawing room.

Dick had Damian thrown over his shoulder as the boy screamed insults at both Tim and Jason. Clearly Dick was preventing a full-on brawl from errupting.

The bickering and teasing continued but wasn’t anywhere near as awkward or stressful as it was at dinner. Perhaps all the glasses of wine Y/N had were helping with that. She decided to simply sit back and watch the Wayne family.

Eventually it hit Damian’s bed time. Bruce insisted on tucking his son into bed.

Jason took their leave as his cue to leave the manor.

Tim went up to his own room. Except they all knew it wasn’t to sleep, but to get back to work and not stop until he was utterly exhausted.

The drawing room turned relaxing as Dick and Y/N were the only two who remained.

“You survived,” Dick pointed out with a chuckle.

“I did,” Y/N answered with a light laugh.

Dick let a moment pass before he asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents?”

She sighed, knowing Dick was going to bring this up at some point.

“Because I don’t tell anyone about them.”

“You told Bruce,” he countered.

Her brow furrowed. “And how do you know that?”

Dick at least looked guilty for answering, “He told me.”

She glared at him. “So is that what you two do now? You talk about me with each other? Swap notes?”

“Course not. But don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical getting mad about it?”

“Hypocritical?” She shot back.

“Yeah, hypocritical. You did a background check on every single member of this family. You know my entire past. You know every woman I’ve been connected to in my life. But the moment I know something about you, it’s not OK?”

“As if you wouldn’t offer that info freely if I asked…”

“That’s exactly my point, Y/N.” Dick sounded exasperated. “I’m trying to get to know you. I’m really trying. But now I know you’ve done it before. So I’m asking you to trust me enough to do it again.”

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N mumbled before walking out of the room.

Dick let out a groan of frustration and rubbed his face.

That definitely could’ve gone better.

But Y/N’s night wasn’t free of the Wayne men yet.

Just before reaching her bedroom door, Bruce crossed her path.

“Hey!” She snapped at him. “My past isn’t something for you to announce to whoever the fuck you want.”

“Y/N, that’s–”

“Save it,” Y/N snapped before he could get a word in. “Whatever broody and cryptic bullshit you’re about to spew…just…save it, k?”

And with that, Y/N slammed her bedroom door shut.

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

Part 9

A/N: I know a lot of people really hate the Talia/Bruce sexual assualt storyline. But that was the version of Damian’s conception that I was most familiar with. I didn’t want to make light of it, because we all know male victims of sexual assault are not taken seriously – and that’s fucked up. But I also didn’t want to linger on it too long since it’s such a disliked plot point

Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!! Pretty, pretty please. 😔

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 8 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #batfam #batboys #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

Text

Roommates (Pt. 1) - Jamie Oleksiak

Words: 4.4k+

Type: ANGST

Summary: After many years of being best friends with Jamie, you’ve grown tired of hiding your true feelings and fearing the end of your friendship.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of sex while intoxicated (consensual). Age gap. Sad, sad reader.

Jamie Oleksiak. The name of your best friend and the defenseman of the team Dallas Stars. As well as your roommate for the past few years.

You two met at a bar a few years back. He was playing for the Penguins at the time, and you were in college.

You weren’t a big fan of hockey at the time, so you actually needed the help of a friend to know his name in the first place. Something, he found funny for some reason, while you, just felt deeply embarrassed.

It’s no secret that you two had sex that night. You two were equally tipsy, which did make everything seem easier and more fluid, in a way. Yet you never forgot the night.

Not only was it the beginning of an amazing friendship, it was also the best night of your life.

It took you two a few weeks to reconnect again and have your share of laughs. Your humor helped you out with him liking to hang out with you more and more each day. As well as the fact that it never seemed like you were interested in anything else but a conversation and company for lunch or periods in between classes.

You were just different, in a way.

Years went by and he was traded back to Dallas.

By the time it happened, you two were still heavily attached and, also, calling each other best friends. And yes, you had to be the first one to call him that.

You had finished your degree at that time and Jamie took that as a good reason to try and make you move in with him to Dallas. You were shocked, to say the least. You had just gotten used to living in Pittsburgh and now he wanted you to go with him to a whole different place.

It took a lot of pleading and being way too annoying for you to say yes, but he got you to do it. It was easy after he mentioned that you could live with him in the center of the city, where everything is, and also that he will pay for most of the rent. What can you say? You’re a simple girl.

And who says ‘no’ to free things?

Oh, and why most of the rent and not all? Because you felt bad at one point (that point being: one week in) and made a whole tantrum until he allowed you to pay a small percentage of the large rent.

Being best friends with Oleksiak got you a lot of things. Got you happiness (which can be discussed). Got you to like sports, especially hockey - which surprised your family since they had been trying to make you like it for years.

Got you Instagram followers. Since you know, that’s the most important thing of this whole friendship (*sarcasm*). Which, by the way, did made you more active on social media and be Big Rig’s fans’ personal provider of content.

Got you to live in a beautiful city with him. But most importantly: It got you to fall in love with him.

You first realized you were falling in love with Jamie back when you were in his old apartment. You had just woken up from a big party, with a big headache and his large arm over your waist.

It was early in the morning and the sun was starting to rise. Jamie was sleeping next to you, with his back to the windows, protecting himself from the harsh lighting. You looked back at him and his peaceful look as he slept silently next to you. You turned and laid your head back on his pillow, admiring his face. You were bold enough to bring your hand up to his face, and smoothly running your thumb over his cheek as you cupped it.

You could kill to have that every morning. To have him quiet and leaning into your touch unconsciously like it was your morning routine. Welcoming your hold as if it was his safe haven when he needed someone.

And even though all of those things already were true and present in your day-to-day life, it was never how you liked it. Always in a friendly-loving type of touch. Never a whole another loving type of way.

And that’s when you got it. You were falling in love.

Those feelings got stronger and stronger with each day that passed, and Jamie... Well, he’s completely oblivious to it all.

Your friends tease you about it. Always saying stuff like “close your mouth, you’re drooling” when in games or other innocent things like that.

They imagine your stares and glances as just a possible small crush, or that it was your way of looking out for your introverted friend. Never that you were staring at the man you’ve completely fallen in love with.

Nobody knows how you feel. Nobody. Except for you and your overthinking mind.

God, you don’t know how many times you cried over him. All when he was just a few doors away from you as you laid in bed. Or how many times you tried to be independent and look for love in another man, but always ending up disappointed, heartbroken, and unsatisfied.

You had and still have to see him bring girls home late at night, sometimes even talk to some in the morning while he sleeps. Fake being happy for him when he gets a new girlfriend and falls in love with her. Fake liking his girlfriend and act as if she’s exactly who you’d love to see in his life.

Yes, maybe you were being an awful friend, but your feelings were too much for you to just ignore them and not let them affect you.

You’re starting to grow tired with all of this.

“Hey, how was practice?” You ask Jamie right as you walk in the kitchen, not expecting to see him standing there on his phone.

“Good.” He answers, obviously distracted.

You don’t care enough to tease him over the short answer like you always do, so you just walk over to the fridge to get your water bottle.

You just woke up, your eyes feel swollen from crying last night and, god, you feel dehydrated.

Jamie brought a girl home yesterday after the game, right when you were supposedly asleep. You heard them walking down the hallway, him shushing her as she giggled away.

You weren’t all that affected until you met her in the kitchen at 4am. And she had the audacity to be nice. She knew you were the roommate, so she wasn’t shocked when she saw you. But you were to see her.

You had just finished binge-watching a show, and she, well, she had stopped at least moaning an hour before.

You adjust the hood of your hoodie to try and hide your face and eyes from any morning light, and of course, a particular pair of eyes. Jamie leans back on the counter, putting his phone back on his pocket, eyes completely on you, now.

“What’s wrong with you?” He teases, smile prominent on his tone.

“Nothing.” You answer, head still low on the ground.

You put your water down and you scrub your face with your hands, harshly trying to wake yourself up to the day that you still have to experience.

It’s god damn 12pm.

Jamie leans back a little on the counter and takes a look at your face. God, you look sad. Your eyes are puffy and your lips are slightly swollen, just like under your eyes. You, for sure, had been crying.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

You look up at him to already find him staring. You plaster one of your usual fake smiles over your lips and shake your head.

“Nothing, dummy. I’m just tired” You say with a completely different tone than before.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” You reassure, shoving your hands on the front pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing, his hoodie.

He looks at you worried and you smile more wide, walking close to him and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your head over his chest and he hugs you back right away.

“I’m okay.” You whisper.

You close your eyes as you feel him squeeze you close to him and try your best to enjoy the moment. Not that you don’t get a lot of hugs from the giant man, but these ones are different. They’re the comforting ones. The ones that almost make you, not only cry all over again but also, be in a better mood in a few more hours.

You blink your tears away and try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you. You look up and he’s staring back.

“Can I go take my shower, now?” You ask him with a playful tone.

“Nop.” He says, squeezing you back to his chest, “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You say with a small chuckle.

“Stop lyiiing!” He sings the words and you smile a little.

He kisses the top of your head and you sigh.

“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep at all, tonight,” You tell him and he lets go of you for a bit, “Can I please go now?”

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

You shrug, stepping back.

“I saw a horror movie.” You lie and you know right away that he didn’t believe you. “I’m serious.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not!”

“You. Are.” He says with a playful tone, definitely not wanting to start an argument since you’re not in the best mood.

You sigh and turn around, walking over to your room before he could even reach to hold you back and make you talk.

(...)

Jamie expected you to be in a better mood after you showered, but that did not happen. You took your shower, walked to the kitchen to get something small to eat, and closed yourself back up in your bedroom.

He thought about going over to your room to talk to you but he hesitated when he realized that he didn’t even know what to say or ask.

So, he stayed in the living room, playing video games while giving you some time. As well as promising himself that if you don’t walk out in an hour, he’ll go in to check if you’re still alive and haven’t turned into a zombie.

You scroll through your social media on your phone. You watch everyone’s Instagram story with a serious look on your face, some of them just make you grin slightly at their contagious laughter or bad jokes, but most are just boring.

You slide off the app and click on your gallery. You scroll to the top and a grin appears on your face as the memories all hit you at once. You scroll and stop midway, where most of your videos are.

You click on one specifically and stare down at it.

It was a short video of you in the kitchen playing around and singing along to a song. You smile at your dramatic dancing and pointing towards an off-screen Jamie, and you turn up the volume.

You were singing along to the lyrics of the sappy breakup song while pointing at Jamie, as if you were dedicating the whole performance to him.

You stop dancing for some seconds, panting, and you hear Jamie laughing loudly off-screen over how tired you were.

“You danced for like 30 seconds!” He exclaims and you glare at him.

“Fuck off.” You curse.

He laughs again and you smile before walking back to your phone to stop recording and change the music.

You swipe for the next video and it’s another whole performance, but this time Jamie was on the screen, just in the corner.

You smile as you scream the lyrics and laugh like a maniac at his expression of complete terror. The video ends with you randomly hugging him as you laugh, which meant that you cut the rest, for some reason. You swipe again and the videos of that day ended there.

You look through more videos and you find some others that are just as funny, and others just completely random. Like the one where it’s just 5 seconds of you zooming in on Jamie washing his teeth in the bathroom while you’re laying on his bed.

Things only drunk you understands when doing them.

You go through all of the random ones and find some with your friends. Most of you all drunk in a club screaming “Happy new year” before everyone starts kissing one another.

A knock on your door makes you look up and Jamie peeks in.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod.

You continue laid on your bed and Jamie lays beside you.

“What have you been doing in here all day?” He asks and you look over as he also looks down at your phone.

“Not much.” You say with a shrug, “Just scrolled through social media, and now I’m watching old videos”

“Of...?”

“Nothing in particular, even though most of my stuff is me annoying you.” You say and he smiles.

He takes your phone from your hands and you let him, grabbing your pillow so you can rest your head over something that isn’t your fist or arm.

He clicks some random video and you see that it’s the one you were smiling at not too long ago. He smiles as he sees you do your whole performance and scrolls down for more.

You stay like that for some time and you sigh.

“I’ve been thinking-” You start and he nods.

“That’s good.”

You chuckle under your breath and continue.

“I think I should move out.” You admit, ignoring the small pain building up in your chest.

Jamie looks up from your phone and gives you a look, scowling in what looks like pure confusion.

“What? Why?” He asks defensively.

You shrug before answering, “I just feel, like, we don’t have a reason to live together anymore.”

He blinks at you, not getting it, and you sigh.

“Jamie, we started living together so we could hang out more. We almost don’t even have time to hang out together.” You tell him and he’s still scowling. “You have practice every morning. I work all afternoon. You have games when I get out of work and when you get here after games, it’s not exactly... appropriate... for us to hang out”

“What do you mean?”

“Yo-you always have girls with you.” You explain.

“Ooooh, are you jealous?” He asks with a small smile, his hard expression breaking.

Oh, God.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, but what you’re saying is ridiculous. We hang out every day I have off, always have lunch together and I even let you sleep in my bed on Sundays.”

You roll your eyes and look away, turning on the bed to stare at the ceiling. He’s not lying. You two do spend time together, but, god damn, you need to complain about something for you to be able to get out of this... situation.

“We would hang out just as much if I had my own apartment.” You spit and he locks your phone.

“Is that really your reason?” He asks and you nod, “I don’t believe you.”

“I just... forget it” You sigh.

You sit up and a familiar weight starts resting over your shoulders and chest, it’s like if guilt and heartbreak had a love child. That’s how you’ve been feeling for the past few months. And it’s just awful.

“No, don’t get upset on me, now. Just explain what’s wrong” He says, pulling you to lay down again next to him.

You stare at him for a second and you take a deep breath.

“It’s personal things, Jamie. I just feel like we both could use some privacy, you know?” You ask.

“Personal things...?” He questions, more to himself than anyone else.

“It’s stupid, just forget it.” You repeat, looking away, “You won’t get it, we can talk about this in another time.”

He stays quiet for a bit.

“Do you really want to move out that bad?” He asks, his tone is different, softer, worried too.

You shrug. You don’t want to do it, but you can’t help but think that this is what’s best for you. After so many years of fighting your feelings for him and having them double each day over having to see him every day, is just frustrating.

You need your own space and your own time.

At least somewhere you can cry over heartbreak and not have to worry about the person behind it walking in your room.

“Since when have you been feeling like this?” He asks, breaking your train your thought. “About... moving out?”

“A few months.” You admit.

He stays quiet and you continue to eye the wall intensely, while at the same time have Jamie stare sadly at you.

It’s not every day your best friend says that she wants to move out of your home.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” He asks, feeling helpless.

You think for a second.

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

You sniffle quickly and let out a loud sigh. You’re battling every emotion in you but for an outsider, you just look frustrated. Not sad.

Jamie continues to stare silently and you feel his eyes on you. Your heart is breaking at his silence, and it’s painful. Yet you don’t know what else to do.

You’ve felt like you’ve done everything you could, and this... this is just what you’re left with. This and your unconfessed feelings.

“Are you still planning on staying in Dallas?” He asks, breaking the heart-wrenching silence.

“Yeah,” You say, blinking some tears away, “Of course, I am. Or at least close. I might have to move out of the city and stay in the suburbs, but-”

“Why?”

“I’m not that well paid, Jamie.” You say in an amused tone.

“I can he-”

“No.” You say quickly, staring at him.

Your eyes are almost pleading for him to not do anything of the sort, not pay for rent or even be responsible over anything of yours.

If you want to start fresh, you can’t let him do it.

“Why not?”

“I have my own money” You assure. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

You blink some more tears away and he frowns at the sight of them.

“Are you telling me that or telling that to yourself?” He asks you.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat the question, he just continues to stare at you silently and your urge to cry intensifies.

You’re so used to look at him as your safe haven that breaking down in front of him is just engraved in your brain as something natural. But this time it’s not about work, it’s about him.

“Why are you crying?”

You snap back to reality and bring your hands up to your face, forcefully wiping them.

“It’s...”

Jamie sits up quickly, not letting you move away from him or the conversation, and a small shaky sigh escapes your mouth.

“Talk to me,” He pleads and you breathe in sharply.

You look down at your hands and your heart starts to speed up in your chest. He also looks down at your hands and sees you angrily play with the string of the hoodie you’re wearing.

You want to open your mouth to confess everything, but your emotions get the best of you. Just the thought of how ‘it’s all going to be now’ makes you freeze.

This could be the moment that will change everything and make him never look at you in the same light.

The moment when your friendship dies. And you can’t let that happen.

Jamie’s hand rests on your shoulder and your body shakes with your cries and he looks at you worryingly. He wraps his arms around you and your face meets the soft fabric of his shirt.

He holds as you cry it out, fear still present in you even though you have already talked yourself out into not saying anything. It’s like it’s permanent now.

“Is this about work?” He asks, trying to guess.

Guess you got to do what you do best: Lie.

(...)

Some would honestly agree that destiny, or whatever you believe in these situations, was on your side, when Jamie, days prior to you leaving the apartment, needs to go on a roadie.

He felt absolutely awful that he wouldn’t be home to help you move out, even offered you to wait until he came back, so he can help. But a ‘it’s fine’ was your answer.

You felt awful. He’s your best friend in the whole world and you were destroying your so ‘healthy’ and loving communication so you could get some peace in return.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You tell him as your voice is muffled by his shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” He says as his arms hold you close to him. “I can still call you like before, right?”

“Of course, you can.” You tell him, in a tone as if you would be stating the obvious.

He’s wearing a suit, ready to get on the team’s bus before departing to whatever state he will be playing in. He smells like his cologne, strong as ever, since it hadn’t been long since you two left home.

You, on the other hand, are wearing an oversized t-shirt and some jeans. Nothing too special. Just good enough to take your best friend to wherever he’s getting a bus to work.

“Hey, Rig! Let’s go!” One of the guys screams from the bus door.

It’s not like he’s holding back anyone from leaving, since there are still staff members dragging piles of equipment in the bus’s trunk. But every player is already making their way up to their seats or is already seated.

“You need to go.” You tell him as you try to pull him away by resting your hands on his torso and pulling yourself off, “You have a big trip ahead of you.”

“I know.” He says before squeezing you closer to him.

You feel him lay some kisses on the top of your head and when you look up at him, he just has a small grin over his face.

“You better pick up every single call, uh?” He threatens and a smile reappears on your face.

“Or what?” You challenge, eyebrows held up as if to wait for his answer with an attitude.

He laughs, yet he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts his gaze from you to the bus. His hands lift from your back and rest on your shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze.

It’s time for him to go.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” He asks and you nod.

You two pull away from each other and he leans down to grab his bag. You watch him silently, trying to fight off your emotions that keep on building up whenever he’s about to walk away, and he looks down to give you another look.

“See you at the home game?”

You swallow harshly and nod at him again, a small smile on your face.

The game is 2 weeks away from happening but it will eventually be the end of this roadie. Jamie comes back and stays until the next ‘non-home’ game, which is just a week later, giving you enough time to run through your plan.

You’re not sure if you want to be there. What you’ve planned until now was something over the phone with one of your parents. They offered to help you out and said something along the lines of ‘why don’t come home for a bit?’.

You’re not going to lie, it sounds nice to go home. Maybe take a month or two away from Dallas, away from Jamie.

It’s just that you will miss the home game, or, really, many home games.

You stare as your best friend walks towards the bus and you blink your tears away. He gives his last bag to a worker, who carefully carries it to the trunk, and he takes his first step into the bus.

You inhale sharply, face warming up as your emotions start getting the best of you. The wives, a few feet away from you, are incapable of noticing what’s happening to you, but either way, it could be mistaken just by the ‘goodbye’ for the trip.

You look back up at the bus and see Jamie take his seat by the window, beside one of the guys, you can’t really tell who it is by how tinted the windows are.

His eyes soon find you again and you force your small smile to come back.

Your breathing is sharp and shaky, all because you’re trying to focus on every step of your plan and not on the man that is staring back at you.

All you gotta do is move out, act as if time and distance are pulling you two away, ignore some of his calls... And just let it happen. But, god, why does it hurt so much?

Jamie frowns as you look down at your shoes for a few seconds and his heart clenches as he sees you wipe your tears away, hidden from any of the wives’ eyes.

He eyes you and your head lifts as soon as the bus starts, vibrating under him and loudly signalizing to you that he’s about to leave.

You stare back at him as if in the long lost void, biting your own lips as if to hold back any sobs and eyeing the tinted windows, deep in thought.

You love Jamie. Love him with your whole heart, with your whole being. More than you can even put it into words. But, you can’t just lose him. Not by your confession.

You can’t bear to feel any more hurt, more broken.

The bus soon starts moving and you look through the glass to see Jamie look at you with a worried look. You hide your emotions, once more, with a smile and give him a wave of goodbye.

He waves back and soon enough, the bus leaves, leaving you with nothing but your emotions and self-hate.

Your phone vibrates in your hand and you look down at the screen, tears covering your eyes and making it hard to read. Your urge to break down multiplies by each time a person around you walks away.

Riggy 🥰: I’ll come back before you know it

Am I proud of this? No.

Do I know how to make it better? No.

Really hope it’s not too shitty. I’ve had this on my drafts for so long, I just had to post it.

#jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak imagines #jamie oleksiak fic #jamie oleksiak x reader #big rig #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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powercloud · 3 years

Text

At The End of The Day

pairing: tsukishima kei × reader

wc: 2.4k

genre: fluff, pining!tsukki

warnings: timeskip tsukishima, ooc tsukishima maybe(?) He's just so in love with you okay :(

The night was getting colder, the sky already a pretty shade of black, and the moon hung over their heads with a smile. Tsukishima took this as a good sign as if the moon smiling is a green light to pursue his plan. He looks over to you, your eyes distant and looking straight ahead, you were bracing yourself under the blazer he lent you. The view was astonishing. Under you and him the city was busy, flashes of light twinkling brightly, almost nearly outshining the bright stars above. The breeze was noisy as well, blowing your and his hair. But the warmness of Tsukishima’s heart was enough not to completely freeze him over, he was more worried about you though. But after a few stolen, glances he figured you were all right. The rooftop was your favorite, you've gotten used to it.

It's been silent between the two of you. You always fill in the quiet with your antics and puns and dumb realizations, but Tsukki supposes that’s why he was oddly fond of you after a week of knowing you first year in high school.

It’s been years since he concluded he was in love with you. Specifically three, but if he ever mentions the exact number he feels like a hopeless idiot. If he told you about that, would you call him so? He’d never know unless he confesses.

Tsukishima tightens his grip on the metal railings, his knuckles turning white. He bites his lower lip, nearly making it bleed. He’s nervous, he’s scared but he’s willing to push through it. All for you.

Tsukishima steals yet another yearning glance at you, this time his head snaps forward when you caught him red-handed cheeks turn a bit red before he sniffs and got a hold of himself. You laugh gently at his uncharacteristic expression.

“Something bothering you?” you ask, taking one or two steps closer to him. Any more he’d explode.

“Nothing,” Tsukishima lies. And you know this because you always have this certain facial expression where you’re unsure of his answer; one well-defined eyebrow rise, the bridge of your nose scrunched slightly, and your lips on a pout. You always were adorable when you were sure he was lying.

“Well, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Sometimes Tsukki wishes you knew how close he held you in regard, how he won’t get upset if you push him further into questioning. Hell, he’d tell you the truth right away.

But you turn away, leaving him be and respecting his privacy, eyes back forward and thoughts miles away.

Tsukishima follows where you were looking, and he wonders what you were thinking. The future? The past? The inevitable fall of humanity and the universe?

Him?

Tsukishima would very much like to know if you’d thought of him. He won’t hesitate to tell you he’s thinking of you, too. Most days you never go away from his mind. He wants you to think of him right now as he’s thinking of you, too. But Tsukishima thinks that’s not the case. You never look so troubled when you were thinking of a person unless you worried.

Tsukishima nudges your elbow with his, and finally, he looks at you straight in the eyes, flushing lightly as always. “What’s bothering you?” He asks, his mouth in a straight line, seemingly uncaring.

“Nothing, just—” you sigh deeply, shoulders falling. Tsukki holds his breath, maybe it would be you that confesses? He always thought you liked him back. Tsukki waits as your gaze flutter from the city below then finally to his honeysuckle eyes. “I don’t know if I’d rather wake up in the middle of a war or the middle of a zombie apocalypse.”

He mentally slapped himself for assuming you’d be the first to say something sentimental.

Of course, he thought to himself disappointingly. On a daily, you weren’t even worried about important things like school or true love. You were thinking of choices you’d likely choose in a situation that would never happen, like the zombie apocalypse you mentioned.

You don’t think of me much, do you?

Tsukishima tries to hide his disdain. “I thought you said you had a plan when the zombies come.”

“Yeah, but I mean, like at the beginning of every zombie apocalypse movie, y’know. Like when they start growing in rapid numbers, and the panic rising out of people, the raging undead and their unquenchable thirst for human blood. As in the part where they just start flooding in.” you were very dramatic in using hand gestures. “I don’t know what I would do if that suddenly happened.

“That would never happen,” said Tsukki and you frown, and he smirks, always enjoying irking you. “Neil D. Tyson already said so.”

“Thank God. But still—if it could, what would you rather wake up in the middle of, Tsukki?” you ask him, leaning closer again and his heart palpates. “War or the apocalypse?”

He pretends he’s thinking hard, then he just shrugs nonchalantly, then you whine and tell him how he’s such a killjoy. If he were honest and cheesy, whatever situation he’d suddenly wake up to, Tsukishima wouldn’t hesitate to protect you in either one.

“Women can’t fight in a war, pick war,” Tsukki said, and he smirks again as you scoff and roll your eyes.

“You know how much I’m brave.” Oh, he knows alright. You were intensely afraid of heights, yet look where your favorite spot in the whole world is. “I wouldn’t think twice to enlist,” you said, chest puffed out. “’sides, it’s the 21st century, Tsukki, equality is much softer now. It's indulged..”

“And?” Tsukki encourages you to go on as it looked like you wanted to add something.

“War is worse than hell. I’m fine laying down my life for what’s right, but I’m not ok with children dying or starving, or widows crying over their dead husbands or wives, or old people going cripple. I don’t like seeing good people get hurt.”

God, you were always such a fucking wholehearted, good, kind, courageous, generous person. He loves you so fucking much it hurts to think you’d sacrifice your life for the people you don’t even know.

“Always such a martyr, aren’t you?” you punch Tsukishima on his shoulder. He only laughs at your feeble attempt to hurt him. When you push yourself away to frown again, Tsukki softens. “If you think those kinds of people don’t deserve to die you need to know that you don’t deserve it, too. Fuck dying for the country. Wars are bullshit.” Tsukki had to cut out the part where he’d say he’d want you to hide with him. Later, he tells himself, it's too early.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you said.

“I have never been.”

“Shut up, jackass.”

“You first, dumbass.”

After a few petty insults are thrown at each other you both settle down with Tsukishima letting you win. He doesn’t care if you call him a salty bitch, as long as he gets to see you grin triumphantly after.

Then it was silent again. The wind was stronger this time. One blow and you gripped Tsukishima’s blazer and winced as you took the cold bite. Tsukishima wanted to wrap his arms around you to keep you warm, uncaring of the fact he was cold, too. Very. He had nothing else on besides his thick sweater, apparently not thick enough. Tsukishima wanted to lead you downstairs, back to the party which he’s sure has died down by now. It was nearly 2 in the morning.

But before you two could go he wanted to say something first. Confess before another perfect moment like this slips from his fingers. He looks at you, and you’re so gorgeous. Your hair is a perfect mess behind your head. Your cheeks are flushed, and you kept wetting your lips as the cold had dried them. The city lights shadowed perfectly on the half bottom of your face, the stars mirrored in your eyes. You were serene, too. Seemingly enjoying this time. This time with him.

It was either now or never.

“I love you,” he told you. Except he told the wind instead as another harsh blow blew on the rooftop. You and him wince simultaneously, but both for very different reasons. You hadn’t heard him, that was obvious, because you hadn’t as much reacted any differently. Tsukishima knows you weren’t pretending to not hear him either. Unlike him, you weren’t mean. You would even acknowledge the ignored person who tried to relay a message across a group with a curt nod, and an inviting smile—you listened, as Tsukishima was the reason for that person being reluctant in talking.

Tsukishima frowns, his heart falling. Above him, the smiling moon disappears behind a gray cloud, a red light. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night after all. Maybe no night was the night. But it would be stupid of him to give up after one try. Tsukishima would never forgive himself for letting you go so easily. He knows at the end of the day it’d always be you he loves. He knows he’ll follow his heart to you even though it would break sometimes.

Jesus, he thought. Love is frightening.

A few months later was another perfect moment to tell you Tsukishima’s true feelings. He had just come home from his night shift from the museum, coffee in his hands yet he was still tired and exhausted, but when he saw you sitting down in front of his apartment door, waiting, he smiles to himself.

Once you sensed him, you looked up from the floor you were sitting on, eyes huge and jade. Most people compare eyes to oceans or galaxies. Not your eyes though, they reminded Tsukishima of his favorite thing. Glancing down and his tiny plastic toy dinosaur, and then sliding further down to your green eyes. Tsukishima realized that’s probably why he felt so awake when he was with you. You were like a loud inspiring roar in the morning.

You had plans, you told him. There was a spot in the park, though you suppose it wasn’t even part of the park anymore. There was a forest, more natural than man-made, just beside the park. And when you were bored one day, you ventured through it and found the most amazing spot to view the sky. There were no outside noises, not another human has found it, you prided yourself in that. There were lots of pests and insects though, which was why you brought with you two huge blankets.

So there you two were, beneath the galaxy, feeling small and vulnerable to alien sight. But it was utterly beautiful.

The two of you lie on top of a small hill covered in grass and pretty flowers, there were trees around but it was a clearing where you and he were at. Looking up it was as if the sky was moving and the stars were burning bright. He held your hand shamelessly. And he thanked every God listening when you didn’t pull away, instead you wrapped it firmly as if you’d be taken by a UFO and he’d be your only grip to this Earth.

“Did you see that, Tsukki?” you asked, flabbergasted. You had to let go of his hand to prop yourself up and point to the violet sky. “I think I saw an alien ship!”

“They’re coming to get you,” Tsukishima said. Leaning on his elbow to snicker at you. “Their long-lost family.”

You punch him on his shoulders and he laughs. It’s been years but Tsukishima knows his saltiness isn’t going anywhere.

You lie down again, Tsukishima does the same but this time he can’t hold your hand, not when it's clasped with your other hand and laying on top of your stomach. He hides the fact he’s a tad bitter about that.

“Did you know,” you began, Tsukishima turns to you, intently listening because the stars have never captured him like the way it captured you anyway. What he felt about you, you felt in the infinite universe. Tsukishima’s fine being a close second. “Most people forget dinosaurs have ears because dinosaur ears don’t have bones.”

Tsukishima glares at you incredulously. First of all, how dare you question his lengthy knowledge about dinosaurs. Second, he knows for a fact that’s not true and that you stole it off a kid’s show you watch every fall.

“And that’s a rock fact!” you said, proud and overjoyed. But of what? You didn’t get to fool him successfully.

“No, it’s not, you idiot.” Tsukishima went his way to flick your forehead harshly. When he pulls his hand away you nearly bit off a finger.

Feral bitch, Tsukishima thought affectionately.

“Ok, fine, how about—” you trail off, a finger tapping on your chin, eyes darting from one dead star to another. “Most books on witchcraft tell you witches work naked.” Tsukishima knows which show you got this from off, too. “And that’s because most books on witchcraft are written by men.”

"Now, that I won’t deny.”

The two of you laughed lightly before looking back up again, heart alight. This time, Tsukishima stares at the stars, trying to find reason why you were so smitten with it as he was with you. He tries to find something in between the spaces of dead stars and see if there’s something like that in him, too. So that maybe you can love him as much as you loved the infinitesimal. He doesn’t find anything, unfortunately, he’s distracted by your harmonious humming.

“Tsukki,” his heart skips a beat. You say his name so magically it's hypnotic. He didn’t think he’d fall in love further just by the way you say his name.

“Yeah, y/n?” he cringes at how soft he sounded.

He looks at you, glazes over your direction to see you already looking at him. And his body is on fire. There was something different with you, with the way you look back at him. Something entirely different.

Finally, Tsukishima thought, staring deeper into your glossy eyes, you’re looking at me like I’m something you love, like I put the stars in your sky.

“I love you.”

And the moon in him explodes.

“I love you, too.”

And it’s the end of the day. You’re still and always will be the one that he wants

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyu x reader

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edda-grenade · 3 years

Photo

Sleep.

Adaar and Solas attempt fadewalking for the first time.

#feral verse, 2000 words. on AO3.

They were lying on a hilltop in the forest, on a fur to keep the cold of fall at bay. Well, Adaar was lying down—Solas had sat up to give her a curious look.

“You wish to leave?”

“No! I mean, yes, kinda—maybe—I don’t know.” She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“You seem very happy, here,” he said, in that slow, careful way he had.

“I am! I am. I don’t want to leave my family, or this place, or you—”

“Me?” His voice cracked, just a little. Adaar glanced at him from between her fingers.

“Yes, obviously. I know you like to pretend you’re some lone wolf apart from all living creatures or whatever, but you’re my friend, alright? You’re not getting out of that so easily.”

“I don’t—pretend…” He sighed, his skin staining with blush, the faint freckles even fainter. His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile, until he gave up and his mouth crooked. Adaar loved it when that happened. She was pretty good at making it happen, too.

“You do not wish to leave, but?”

Now she sighed and clamped her hand over her eyes again. It was easier in the dark, unwatched.

“The world is so big and so full of things I don’t know,” she said softly, “and I want to learn everything.”

“Adaar…”

She hadn’t figured out if she loved that yet—the way he said her name sometimes, how he looked at her. Like she was the sun coming over the horizon, or a thunderstorm in the distance, or the wind dancing through the fields so hard it sang. At least that’s what she imagined the expression would look like on her face—an expression that was meant for immense and somewhat unfathomable things, not for a single person.

“There is a way I could show those things to you. Not all of them, of course—but more than what is accessible to you right now.”

Adaar sat up so quickly her head spun a little.

“I’m listening.”

He explained, and her head continued to spin, although for different reasons. Lucid dreaming, delving into the Fade like into a cave, how the deeper you went the older the memories imprinted upon the Fade would be…

It sounded ludicrous. Like magic, if she had never heard of it before. It sounded amazing.

“Can we just do that?” she asked. “Right now?”

Solas gave her another weird look; his eyes wide and searching for a brief moment.

“I—yes. Come with me.”

They left the little barren hilltop that poked above the forest behind and instead descended into the small cave Solas had chosen as his resting place. She’d tried often to convince him to join her family at the settlement, but he’d steadfastly refused every time. It didn’t bother her as much anymore—the cave looked more and more like an actual home these days, with a fire pit and cooking tools, shelves he’d carved out of the rock to hold utensils using a spell she hadn’t quite figured out yet herself, and a warm, dry place to sleep.

Solas had a ball of light bobbing in the air above his shoulder, and gazed down at the bedstead. It was cozy: a pallet of hay covered in cowhide, with a blanket and fur to keep warm in winter. It was also not nearly big enough for both of them. At least not if they intended not to share breathing space.

“There’s a bigger bed at home, you know,” Adaar said. “Actual walls and a door, too.”

“I would prefer to try it here. I have set the requisite wards quite often, and I’m familiar with the peculiarities of the Fade in this place.”

She shrugged, glancing around at the runes and sigils he had marked into the walls of the cave. “Yeah, makes sense. I’m just saying, you can get familiar with the farm, too. There’s space for you, it’s not a problem.”

“I’m aware, since you keep reminding me so diligently.”

“It keeps being true.”

She smiled a little at how that statement made his ears dip and his head turn away so she wouldn’t see his face. He cleared his throat.

“I have never… attempted to teach this to anyone else.”

“Because you didn’t want to, or because there was no one you could teach it to?” She hesitated, thinking of his arguments with Lavellan's Keeper. “Or because no one wanted to learn it?”

He let out a low breath. “All of the above,” he replied quietly, “at one point or another.”

Adaar slapped her hands together to resist the urge to hug him, then clapped her palms briefly onto his shoulders because not touching him at all was even more frustrating than being shrugged off. “First time for everything. How do we start?”

Solas showed her how to set the wards—they’d talked about spellwork like it before, but mostly in abstract terms. It took a good while, because she kept stumbling over new questions, like how specific a ward could be, how permanent, how big a space it could cover… They were halfway into designing one that might be used to keep beetles out of the grain, until they managed to get back to the task at hand.

She settled on the bedstead with crossed legs while Solas puttered about by the fire pit and brewed a concoction he insisted wasn’t tea to help them fall asleep. Then she got up again and started pacing, as much as was possible, because her legs were too jittery to sit still. She was just glad most of the cave was high enough that she didn’t have to stoop—she halted, gazing at the stone close above her.

“Solas, did you shape the ceiling, too?”

“What do you mean?”

“The rock here has a different texture.” She reached up to touch it and closed her eyes, searching for that low echo of past magic—and found it. “And it’s been worked with magic.”

“…A little. It is not your fault you are so tall.”

A smile bit into her cheeks. “Aw, that’s sweet.”

“It was a practical consideration,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound like he was actually put out. “You insert yourself into others’ spaces inevitably, it was only a matter of time until you would find your way into this one.”

“That almost sounds like a criticism.”

“An observation. Foremost.” He handed a steaming cup of the not-tea to her, then sipped from his own. She breathed in the smell—chamomile, juniper, and something spicy she didn’t recognize—then exhaled a bit of frost across it to cool it down before taking a sip.

Solas was watching her when she looked up from the cup.

“Something wrong?”

“No, it is simply… nice, to see how certain magic has become easier for you.”

“The frost? Yeah, I barely have to think about it anymore.” She blew a puff of snow into his face to demonstrate. Solas startled, grimacing, and wiped the rapidly-melting crystals from his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Adaar said, very earnestly. “Couldn’t resist.”

He shook his head and grumbled something in Elvish, but he was smiling again. That small, helpless, trying-not-to smile. They finished their cups, put them aside, and regarded the bedstead again.

“I shall take the fur, next to the pallet,” said Solas.

“I thought the point was to fall asleep more easily? And to sleep more deeply?”

“Yes.”

“Then why make it harder on yourself? We just gotta… scrunch up a little, it’s gonna be fine.”

There was a long silence.

“I am not used to sleeping among other people,” Solas said finally, his tone even. He wasn’t used to other people—flesh-and-blood people, that was—in general, Adaar suspected, but she kept it to herself. Right now was probably a bad time to bring that one up.

“Alright, no spooning then,” she said instead and sat down and stretched out along one side of the bedding. Then she remembered she had to get rid of her shoes, untied them, and hucked them against an empty wall. Lying down, the scent of lavender became obvious amid the hay and fur; sprigs had been stuck to the corners to keep bugs away. She’d told him about that trick months ago.

It really was cozy; warm and inviting. She curled onto her side, drawing her feet up, and patted the mattress next to her. Slowly, Solas joined her, folding himself up so he took up even less space than usual. It was still a tight fit, especially since he tried to avoid any real contact beyond the brush of fabric.

“I will attempt to find you once we are dreaming,” he said. “With our current physical proximity it should be an easier task.”

“There’s really nothing else to it? We just fall asleep?”

“It is… difficult to put into words. Question your dreams, if you can. The key is to become aware—awareness begets agency, which in turn begets control.”

Adaar tugged the fur and blanket up to cover them. “Alright. Sleep well?” There was a flash of a smile on Solas’s face before he closed his eyes.

“I shall see you soon.”

It was not soon. Adaar’s mind refused to quiet, anticipation thrumming in her limbs. She kept shifting, unable to relax, and she worried she’d spend the entire night sleepless, when she finally woke up again to a dark, quiet cave.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, then? So was this the Fade? It didn’t feel different. She was sleepy and bleary-eyed just as she would be when waking up in the middle of the night, and a cursory examination of the cave with a bit of conjured light—a spell that behaved no differently than any previous time she’d used it—told her it looked exactly as it had when they had bedded down. Except…

Solas lay tucked against her front, his body warm, his breathing even. His temple rested against her collarbones and his folded legs leaned against her hips. He was curled up as he’d been before, but now it seemed less about making himself smaller, and more about fitting into the curve of her body.

Adaar stared into the darkness. That was… unexpected. Solas didn’t seek out physical contact. Sure, he usually melted into it for one or two seconds when it was offered before pulling away, but nothing like this.

Cautiously, she tried to brace herself on her elbow to get a better look, both at the cave and at him. She bit down on a sharp inhale when pins and needles erupted in the limb, breathing through it with care until the sensation passed. But even on a thorough second look, nothing changed. The cave was still the cave, nothing remotely immaterial about it, and Solas still slept soundly, curled up against her.

Part of her wanted to wake him up. Let him know it hadn’t worked, at least not yet, and try to figure out what might be changed, because merely the thought of consciously walking in the Fade was enough to make her heart beat faster.

But he looked so much younger in his sleep. His features softened and relaxed, like he might actually be at peace. Adaar wasn’t sure she had ever managed to catch him this unguarded. When they were together, it felt like he hardly stopped watching her.

She let out a small sigh and settled back down, gently wrapping one arm around his waist. Hopefully that wouldn’t upset him, if he woke up before her come morning. Right now at least, a soft, sleepy noise slipped from him, and he rolled even more thoroughly into her embrace.

#don't worry solas is gonna get slammed with the pining soon enough #feral verse #adaar #solas #saar gets her own tag #inquisitor x solas #soladaar #time for those tags to make a regular appearance in this verse :3c #art tag #fanart #fic tag #fic related #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da:i

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dindadjarin · 3 years

Text

Details

Pairing: Din Djarin x g!n reader

Words: 1k

Warnings: none just flufffff

AN: this just sort of came to me and I decided to write it. I hope you like it. Please be kind ✨ Feedback is much appreciated 💖

———

Sometimes actions speak far more than words. They speak volumes when they come from the heart, when they show care, love, respect and appreciation. You’ve always believed that anyway, thus how your small yet meaningful tradition with one grumpy, yet soft, Din Djarin started.

Nerves bloom in the pit of your stomach as you climb down the ladder towards the main hull. Your smile is a mix of anxiousness and happiness at the thought of Din getting the present you got for him. Will he smile, or will he hate it? You’ll have to find out when he comes back from his latest hunt. It’s only been three days, but you’ve missed him terribly, so it’s no wonder why your hands start to get sweaty at the idea of seeing him again. Your walk has a small skip to it, and you hum to yourself as you make your way to the baby sitting on a crate in the hull. If anyone saw you just then, they’d figure out just how deeply you feel about Din, even if his affection towards you might not be in the same way. You’ve been dancing around each other for a while, so much that he must know how much you care about him, and he has too though you doubt is romantically.

He’d let you join his crew more than a year ago, to fix the Razor Crest when needed, and you were very grateful. The opportunity had taken you to many planets and allowed you to learn many things from different cultures, something you doubt would have happened if you had stayed in the hangar you used to work at. Heart full of gratefulness for the Mandalorian, you wandered around a market one day while he was on a job, his son was on a bag by your hip when you spotted a stand selling colorful items.

What specifically caught your eye had been the various beads laid out on a piece of red fabric. They were ordered so that each pile was the same color and the vendor had balls of string right by them which made you step closer to her stand.

“Good morning, dear, looking to make a necklace today?” Her smile was kind as she greeted you and when her eyes landed on the Child, she addressed him too. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing? Do you want a necklace too?”

The baby looked happily at her before looking back at you which made you smile. “I was actually thinking about making a necklace for his father.” You said looking back at the vendor. “But maybe I can get matching ones for the three of us.

“Say no more.” She motioned to the beads, “Pick all the beads you want, then we can put them on the string.”

You nodded and rubbed the baby’s ear affectionately. “Wanna help me pick out the beads, my darling boy?”

The baby looked up and cooed joyfully, his little hands clapping in front of him before they made grabby hands at the beads. So that was how you ended up making three matching necklaces, one smaller than the rest but all of them with beautiful red, orange and brown beads with little designs on them. The vendor gave you a discount that day and after you handed her the credits, you started to make your way back to the Crest. The small bag carefully placed on your satchel with the rest of the supplies. You heart was drumming on your chest and it didn’t cease until you were back at the ship. You were just finishing up arranging the supplies in the hull when Din arrived home. Your heart had stopped and the child cooed loudly, starting to babble away to his father, probably about the necklaces.

“How was the job?” You asked with a smile, glad to know he was back safe and without injury. The baby moved quickly towards his father, who scooped him up in his arms. “We missed you at the market, it was beautiful.”

Din shrugged with the baby tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Didn’t give me much trouble. Did you find everything we needed?”

You nodded before biting your lip, unsure if getting him the necklace had been a good call. However, you took a deep breath and you summoned all the courage that had gotten you through many tight spots. “I got you something.”

Din’s helmet tilted to the side as he looked at you. By the sound of his voice, he was confused. “You got me something?”

Without another word, you moved to the place where you had left the small bag with the gift. “It’s uh, a necklace. I actually got three, one for each one of us. Since you gave the child yours, I thought you might like a new one.” You started rambling but stopped yourself when you saw Din walk closer to you.

“I hope what I did wasn’t out of turn.” You moved your eyes away from his visor. “You deserve it though, Din, for everything you’ve done for us. You deserve more than what credits can buy.”

“It wasn’t. Let me see.” Din had said, and his voice was soft, soothing immediately the feeling of anxiety on your chest.

Shyly, you took the necklace out and placed it on your palm. It was nothing special, just a medium-length soft brown string with the beads decorating it. Din took it from you gently and put it over his own palm. He remained silent for a while, making you wonder if he hated the gift, and when he closed his hand with the necklace on it you felt your heart sink. That is, until he spoke up.

“This means a lot to me, cyar’ika, thank you.” Din’s free hand took yours in his and laced your fingers with his. “This is the first gift I have received.”

Your heart ached at his low confession and you squeezed his hand, offering a soft smile. “Like I said, you deserve everything and something tells me it’s the first of many to come.” You took the other two necklaces and put one around the baby’s neck. He cooed happily, looking up at his father with his bright eyes. “I think he likes his.”

“Yeah.” Din nodded with a chucked, holding the baby’s hand with his thumb. “I, uh, can help you with yours. Putting it on, I mean.”

“Oh!” You felt your heart rate pick up. “Sure, thank you.”

Din handed you the baby and moved to stand behind you. He was careful taking the other necklace from the bag you were holding and looped it around your neck. Your body thrummed at the proximity of the two of you, and you could feel your face heat up when his gloved hands brushed against your neck while he tied the brown string into a knot. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment before he stepped away and you needed to take a deep breath to calm down before facing him again.

“Thank you, Din.” You smiled up at him, your eyes meeting his visor once more. “I was about to make some dinner, it shouldn’t be too long.”

He gave you a nod and took the baby from your arms. Before you walk away, he surprised you by taking your hand again. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you cyar’ika.”

So the tradition began, and just as you had told him, more thoughtful gifts started to make their way to random parts of the Crest for him to find. They weren’t expensive and they weren’t always bought. You’d leave him a note for him to find somewhere on the ship, the baby and you would draw him something or you’d leave a patched up piece of clothing on his compartment after a rough hunt.

The gifts were not one sided either, slowly you’d started to get gifts yourself. They were small details Din had noticed about you and wanted to make it known. He’d bring you flowers whenever he’s out looking for a bounty, he’d get you your favourite fruit if he spotted it in a town and he left leave notes announcing his departure to a hunt whenever he left before you woke up. These little things never failed to put a smile on your face, they made your chest feel so full of warmth that you could melt on the spot.

You never thought showing your love in this way would bring you closer but here you are, longing for his return and yearning to take his hand in yours even if it’s only platonically. Three days is one day too many, even though he’s sometimes been gone longer, but the more you love him the more you miss him. And so does his son, who looks at the closed hatch with droopy ears.

“I know, I miss him too. But he’ll be home soon.” You press a kiss to his head, “And he’ll love the gift we made for him.”

The baby coos, his ears perking up as he looks at the box where you hid the new gloves you made for him. It’s nothing much really, you’ve been secretly making him a new pair with some strong fabric you got a market once. With everything he does for the two of you and the risks he takes, it’s the least you could do. His old ones are falling apart fast and he needs good gloves to be protected, so you took it upon yourself to make him a pair as you know Din is reluctant to buy new things for himself. These are different from the old ones though, the orange was replaced by a dark blue color the baby had liked and you’d embroidered the silhouette of his signet by the glove’s seam. It had taken a while but you’re sure Din will be happy with them once he sees them.

The hatch opening brings you out of your thoughts, and when you see Din walking up the ramp your heart fills with relief. “Din.” You breathe out and make your way over to him with the baby following closely behind.

Not helping yourself, you put your arms around him, holding him close to you as your cheek meets cold Beskar. You feel calmer and happier than you have for the last three days, the smile that grows on your face is proof of that as you look up at him. “Everything okay?”

Din nods and surprises you by hugging you again. “It gave me more work than I thought it would. No trouble here?” He asks and looks down when he feels his son grabbing his boot and picks him up. “Did you behave, kid?”

The baby coos and holds his father’s helmet between his hands, making Din chuckle and your heart burst. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He was on his best behaviour.” You smile, booping the baby’s nose before moving to grab the box where the gloves are hidden. “ We have been busy. Here, these are for you.”

Your shoulders move up and down in a shrug as you hand him the gloves. Your heartrate has picked up, waiting for his reaction, even if you can’t see his face. “Yours are falling apart so I thought you might like a new pair. The baby liked the blue color.”

He is silent for a couple of minutes as he regards the gloves. He sets the child down and brings a hand up to touch them gently before he looks at you once more. “Cyar’ika.” Din shakes his head. “You made these?”

You nod shyly. “With all the hard work you do for us, it seemed fair that you have a new pair of gloves.”

Din is silent once more, and a few seconds pass before he steps closer to you. You hold your breath at the proximity, your eyes never leaving his visor as he brings one gloved hand to your cheek. “How is it that you always manage to leave me speechless?” His voice is soft even through the modulator, his entire body drawn to yours just like yours is to him.

You can only shrug and lean into his touch. “I want to put a smile on your face even if I can’t see it.”

“You do.” His voice is soft. “I’m not very good with words, cyare, so I hope the flowers and the notes have let you know.”

You feel your heart on your throat as you bring your hand to hold his against your cheek. A part of you knows what he’s going to say but nothing prepares you for the way your heart bursts when he says…

“Let you know that I love you.”

You smile and close your eyes, happiness flooding your body as you replay his words in your mind. “Din, I love you… so much.”

The cold feeling of beskar meets your skin when Din presses his forehead against yours in the most intimate moment the two of you have shared. “I missed you.” He whispers.

“I did too.” You smile, loving the feeling of him pulling you closer by the waist. “I take it you liked your gloves.” Your eyes meet his visor again when you step back.

“They’re perfect, cyare.” Din’s smile can be heard through the modulator, one of his hands comes back to your cheek, rubbing softly at the skin there. “Thank you.”

“I–I can help you put them on if you’d like.” You glance down at the gloves he’s holding on his right hand and chuckle when the baby coos, making grabby hands at them. “Or, we can help, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Din nods after he clears his throat. “Yeah, I uh... I’d like that.”

Your heart bursts for the second time that day. The intimacy of taking his gloves off makes you nervous all over again, but you still carry on, glad that you started this tradition and that it accelerated you talking about your feelings. Actions speak louder than words, and for the two of you, they’re your love language.

——

Tagging: @dindja @itspauvr @dindjarindiaries @din-damn-djarin ✨

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandolorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin x gn!reader #gn!reader

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Note

is it still council-hating hours? even if not, this is something that's been bothering me for....so long. and i am going to explode if i don't say it right now. (In fact i actually have a doc titled "council incompetence rant" that is. getting a little long.)

One of the things that annoys me the most in Keeper is how utterly incompetent the Council is. They are shit at their jobs! They don't make sense! And that would be fine if that was something that was explored and talked about in the story, but it's not?

Like, sure, it's brushed on a little, but Keeper never goes in-depth in order to explain just how flawed and corrupt the system is! We have no idea how far the rot goes because we haven't been given a chance to see how far it goes, and despite the earlier books being really great setup for all kinds of plots and discussions surrounding the Council, it feels like Messenger is completely dropping that in favor of..."Neverseen Bad, Council + Black Swan Good". Which I call fucking bullshit on, by the way, because this series has gone to pretty decent lengths before to show that it's not the case! So WHY are we getting to that now?

Well, I think all of this is the symptom of a bigger problem.

Note: I don't want to be mean, and please tell me if I'm being too critical here, but this series has some serious problems actually delivering on what it's saying.

Like, it's trying to tell us that Sophie shouldn't be doing all this because she's a kid, but then it treats her very own existence as a project as background information when that should absolutely be at the forefront (like it was in earlier books)!

It's trying to tell us that discrimination against the Talentless is bad, but then every single member of it's cast has an ability, has a strong ability, and regularly uses their ability! Even Dex, who could have easily been talentless and good with tech, gets to be a Super Good Gadget Person thanks to his ability as opposed to his own creativity and ingenuity.

It's trying to tell us that maybe banishing children is bad, but also tells us that Exillium is now """fixed""" because Oralie gave them...better tents? Food? And never touches on the fact that children are still. getting. banished. It doesn't explore Tam's anger in detail, Linh is only there to be the token asian girl, it does nothing to fully dispel any thought of the Council being alright.

And it's trying to tell us that the Council fucks up, it's showing us that Councillors have no problem being incredibly selfish and violent and so many other terrible things, but that never changes. Nothing in Keeper is changing. It is only maintaining the status quo!

I'm confused as to what Messenger is trying to tell her readers! Are the Council good or bad? Is working with the Council good or bad? Are the Black Swan and Neverseen actually morally grey? Should I be angry at what's happening in these books? Am I meant to look at all the rot and shrug because "that's just how it is"?

And like...I wouldn't be mad if Keeper was just...bad! I mean, I would, but I wouldn't be as distraught! What really grinds my gears is that Keeper has the chance to be good. It has the chance to do great things - and at times it absolutely does! - but it keeps reinforcing belief in a deeply flawed and broken system that is regularly hurting people. And those examples were just off the top of my head!

And again, if this was explored within the series, that would be amazing, but the problem is that it's...not. And that's just...a real fuckin' shame, honestly.

- pyro

(sorry if this was like...too angry? i started and then kinda just...couldn't stop. i should probably get a hobby that's not tearing a middle grade series apart. oops.)

it may have been over a week since you sent this (thank you for being patient with me!!), but fuck yes it is still council hating hours. it is always council hating hours in this household that is not actually a house. (also that incompetence rant sounds intriguing)

yes! you are right! they are so bad at what they're supposed to be doing it's like they're just figures for people to look to and say "yea they'll take care of it" to keep everyone else from acting out! but it's really interesting to see a government so awful and incompetent be such an integral and influential part of the story...without acknowledging that they're actually really bad? I know in Unlocked there's a line where Shannon says something like "Sophie had to figure out who the bad guys were: the black swan? the council? someone else entirely?" but then it's never touched on again that I can remember. Thinking through the series, I honestly can't think of a situation that the council, of their own volition, saw was an issue and corrected in a way that was beneficial to those who needed it. Like yea, Oralie gave money to Exillium, but that was after Sophie chewed her out about it. I think i've said it before but in case not: it feels like they've taken the "for the good of the many over the good of the few" ideology too far in a society that doesn't work for. If someone threatens the majority (and often that's just in appearance only) they get rid of them to preserve the image of the rest. It doesn't care about their people, it cares about the majority of people feeling undisturbed.

considering Sophie is part of a huge organization created literally because their society, led by that system, isn't working for a lot of people, they (the Black Swan) sure do go along with the council a whole lot. I think one of the linked posts in one of my masterposts is specifically about how making the Black Swan work so closely with the council screwed them over and completely undermined everything they were working towards. I'm going to make a very vague comparison here, but the Black Swan feel like "we need to fix the system" while the Neverseen are "the system is broken lets start over" (except the Neverseen added a lot more violence into the mix). It's absolutely infuriating to have them working side by side: one, because the Black Swan aren't accomplishing any of their goals and should cut their losses and go back to being mysterious underground groups with more freedom to move (in my opinion), but two, because it makes the council seem like it's trying to fix things when really it feels like a publicity thing to make the public think they're addressing the rebel issue while they're really just showing up in places and causing problems. And!! that's another thing! it feels like their collaboration with the Black Swan is to address the problem of having rebels, not the problems these rebels have identified and are trying to fix. Unfortunately, it seems the council is getting their way more than the Black Swan, getting them to act more legally and work closer with less room for working outside the system. if that makes sense.

considering it's literally stated in unlocked that there is no "good" and "bad," there does seem to be a lot of focus on associating the Black Swan with being Right, and the Neverseen with being Wrong. I can hope that it's the outward reactions to the Black Swan realizing they've done some fucked up stuff (Sophie) and are now overcompensating and trying to make sure their every move is the correct one. But I do think it will be interesting to see if Sophie makes the connection in canon (as she's already started to) that there isn't always a right option, there's just the best you can do with a situation and the Black Swan's insistence that she was "in the wrong" (a summary) helps her realize her own values and think through their decisions with her own perspective instead of just trusting them

response to your note: you're fine! you bring up a good point that this book sounds like it wanted to be a unique perspective (by having the "good guys" also be questionable and give the "bad guys" reasonable motives) but the execution misses the mark for a lot of us. so you're qualms and observations are entirely valid and I don't think you're being mean at all! I think you're expressing a frustration you have with something, which I support and encourage.

at times it feels like Shannon bit off more than she could chew in terms of all the complicated things she could get into when it comes to this series. not saying she's doing a bad job or a horrible author or anything, just that there are some things she introduced that kind of get left behind or unexplored because there's so much else going on. I think we can see that in the whole being experiment part of Sophie life. we saw sophie was uncomfortable with it in the first few books and would sometimes bring it up, but I personally would've been more satisfied if she'd either taken the time to process it (opposed to her think about that later strategy) or come to the realization that no, she isn't okay with it and she deserves to have her thoughts on the matter heard. she was literally created to serve someone elses purpose, and brought into the fight too early at that. and yet it's treated like an "oopsie, guess we just gotta go with it" thing, like this minor part of her story when I bet her thinking about it for more than a minute at a time would absolutely wreck her. but I'm getting caught up in this, so moving on!

I think we can see it in the talentless too, as it's treated like a "that doesn't affect me" thing for Sophie. because she doesn't have any friends that are talentless right now--the closest she's got is Marella, who I think is still legally considered talentless with her pyrokinesis. it's been acknowledged that she doesn't think the way talentless are treated is right, but it doesn't impact her right now so she's not really doing anything about it. maybe if this was brought back later with someone like Jensi, then that would be a satisfying conclusion to this issue (not a conclusion, but it wouldn't be left hanging, if that makes sense). And I can understand the benefit of leaving things open to go back and explore later from a writers perspective, but at a certain point it becomes more of a hindrance to the story than anything else.

and exillium! I have so many thoughts on Exillium that I actually started talking about it earlier in this post. They're not doing anything unless prompted and what they do is the bare minimum. With the tents and the food, they aren't fixing Exillium, they're making it into what it should've been at the very least were they going to actually go down that route. So I can't praise them for it when it's just basic decency to provide literal children with food and shelter when you force them to be somewhere they don't want to. But all this doesn't fix Exillium, because the problem is that it exists in the first place. The problem is that the council saw children who were struggling, and decided the best thing to do with them was to just get them out of the way for everyone else. Three coaches total for leadership? yeah, there's no way that place was ever supposed to be "alternate learning" or however Oralie phrased it, that was just so you could say you hadn't completely abandoned them in the middle of nowhere.

you're so right about the council fucks up bit--I think the most obvious example of this is with Sophie's ability restrictor. Yea, she's not wearing it anymore, but that's not because the council changed their minds. It's because she broke the law and the didn't punish her for it. this is a great example of how things keep trying to move forward, but the council isn't doing anything to stay up with it. "they are selfish and violent[...] but that never changes." yes!! this!! you put it so well! the council is still the same old council that we saw in book one, concerned with their own interests and their own views, just trying to mitigate the damage Sophie and her friends are capable of doing to their system. Note: the fact that a handful of teenagers who haven't even graduated can do this much damage might be telling of the structural integrity of their system. Bronte and Terik did a little flip, and Alina replaced the Now Crispy Kenric, but aside from that nothing has changed.

I will say, I personally don't want it to be clear who the good guys and bad guys are. (not saying that's what you're asking for! just piggybacking off your comment on the confusion). I'm glad that the characters make me think and I'm grateful there isn't just the "we're good and they're bad" element you see in other stories. not that that's bad, i just think realistically they'd be more complex and their simplicity grows repetitive after a while. But like I said, at times it feels like there's too much going on for there to be a clear message, which in and of itself could be the message. i could be seeing something where there's nothing, though. I think part of it might be Shannon trying to take on all these complex narratives and perspectives with a limited perspective (as in she only has Sophie to tell the story through), while also needing to make it enjoyable and palletable to a young audience.

and I agree with you! I think it's a lot of the potential we see not being used that makes us so infuriated (or me at least). Because there are some stories yo uread where you're like "ah. it's just one of those stories. cool." and you move past it. Because you know it's going to have a set perspective and you know it's going to accomplish what it wants, but Keeper seems to have so many possibilities and Shannon's getting stuck in this rut of good and bad after so long. maybe we'll get out of it in the next book with sophie thinking the Black Swan was in the wrong, but I also wouldn't be surprised if that Didn't Happen.

it's just like what i was saying about Ro! There's all these opportunities for these characters and this world to be really explored and fleshed out and complex, but we've gotten stuck in this romance drama and loosing fights again and again with little progress. All their actions are undoing the Neverseen's actions and counting it a victory because no one is dead. I just think there could be so much more that we're not getting because the story tried to go too broad when it wasn't ready for it.

this response got very long but in essence: I agree with your assessment of the story. is frustrating to see so many of the details and paths we'd like to see explored that often aren't in fiction just pass us by.

there is a special place for keeper in my heart and I will always appreciate it for that, but I also mourn what it could've been.

(also: you are not too angry! you have genuine thoughts about this series and they deserve to be heard! we are allowed to have complaints, even about the things we like. we don't have to appreciate every single aspect and we're allowed to be mad at the things we don't like.)

#we are a week into october and I have several asks from september still #how many can i answer in one day is the question #but back to what you were saying pyro #I don't want to just completely rewrite the entire series myself #but I do think there are things that could've been approached better and the council is one of them #If the Black Swan and Sophie both acknowledge their faults #i don't fully understand why they work so closely together #but that's a whole other thing so I should probably stop #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc character analysis #kotlc council #the black swan #quil's queries #pyrokinetic-loser #long post

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dickwheelie · 3 years

Text

heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

_______________

All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I’ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

#tma #the magnus archives #AspecArchives #aspecarchivesweek #gwyneth writes #it's ok jon i'm allergic to clothing stores too

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Note

(Haikyuu!!) Kuroo Tetsurou x Manager! Male Reader where the reader is super flirty and is the only person that can fluster kuroo and the whole team teases him for it (even kenma) and when they finally go on a date they have their first kith (you can cut it off at the 'team teasing him' part if this is too long!)

Kuroo Tetsurō x flirty manager male reader

Kithes

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 1227

“Hey, captain.” You enjoy the way Kuroo’s face lights up with a blush.

“H-Hey.” He stutters back, taking the bottle from your hand. “So,” He clears his throat, “how’s work today?” He always wants to give you a pickup line, especially when you give him the chance to plan for it, but he can never think of one.

You always make sure to give him his bottle last so you can have time to talk before you’re whisked away for another troublesome task. Kuroo always tries to respond but either you give one before he can, either of you are whisked away a bit early, or he cannot for the life of him think of a pick up line. It’s usually the third one.

He thinks he’s smooth, for a chemistry nerd, but with you, he can’t seem to find the right words. Well, quote on quote “with you” really, he doesn’t actually have the reason to give anybody else a pick up line.

The team takes notice of this, since it’s one of the only constants of volleyball practice, which gives them plenty of time to poke fun at him for it.

“Hmm,” You give him a playful stare, one that teases him for not trying to give a pick up line. “Well, it’s been pretty good. I would ask you the same, but I know you’re exhausted.”

He seems confused for a bit. Does he really look that tired? This was the first round of water bottles that practice. He’s really getting old.

“You’ve been running around my mind all day.” You give him a cheeky smile and walk off to gather the empty bottles.

You leave the captain in a confused mess, which gives the team an opportunity to strike.

Kuroo sits there, staring at nothing in particular. He’s trying to comprehend what's just happened. Did he… flirt with him, perhaps? No, that didn’t make sense logically-- Pick up lines aren’t logical… He did flirt with him.

“Kuroo.” Oh no.

“Oh, captain!” Oh no.

“Hey, captain! Did you just talk to (y/n) cause you’re--” Oh no no no no no.

You watch from afar, happily sipping on your own bottle. You enjoyed doing that, the flirting part mostly, but the aftermath was always quite the show. Sometimes you would interfere to make Kuroo redder, and that was your plan for today.

“Hey, boys.” At your voice, the circle they made around Kuroo parts for you to walk through. “Captain,” You nod at him with an innocent smile. You hold out your hand, confusing him further.

“Something up with you today?” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck and musters a sheepish smile, still not getting what you’re asking for. “Your water bottle.”

He quickly sets it in your hand, which makes your job accomplished but you stick around.

“Hey, are you free this Saturday?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He replied, smiling excitedly. He hopes you’re asking him for a date.

“Alright,” You nod. “I’ll text you details, Barium Beryllium.”

He watches as you walk away, trying to figure out what you meant. He was excited about the first part, but what did the elements mean? Barium Beryllium… BaBe. He blinks for a few minutes until realization dawns on him again. “Oh.” Babe.

His face explodes red, giving the other members another reason to poke fun at him.

“Ha! Only someone like Kuroo would react like that!” Yaku laughs loudly, pointing his finger at Kuroo rather rudely.

“What does that mean?” Lev asks around, getting the response from Fukunaga.

“BaBe.” He says. Nobody knows how he knows, but it’s one of those things you just don’t ask about Fukunaga.

“Kuroo-san ha!” Inuoka just laughs, which is enough to tease Kuroo on its own.

Yamamoto slaps his knee, doubling over. “And you call yourself smooth!”

“‘How was work today?’” Kai quotes. “Is that really the best you could do?”

“To be fair, you’re not the one being flirted with!” Kuroo flings his arms around to push anyone away from his personal bubble. He really needed the space to cool down after how hot you’d gotten him.

“Uh, yeah, but you don’t have anything else to say?” Yaku raises an eyebrow with arms crossed. He likes to have any kind of leverage over him, to feed his ego and their ongoing ‘rivalry’.

Kuroo glares in return. “Alright, back to practice.” The team has to oblige, both because of the command and because the coaches were starting to stare.

He sighs in relief, thanking his status as captain.

From: (๑・ω-)～(y/n)

To: (o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ* Tetsu

Library and then maybe lunch?

From: (o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ* Tetsu

To: (๑・ω-)～(y/n)

Yeah, sure. 11:15?

From: (๑・ω-)～(y/n)

To: (o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ* Tetsu

Very specific, (≖⌣≖ԅ) Anyway, yeah! See you then

To: (o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ* Tetsu

From: (๑・ω-)～(y/n)

Study session?

He looked down at his phone and your last conversation again, sighing deeply. He’d gotten no response from you and instantly he thought of the worst; you weren’t actually going out on a date.

It was just a study session. You weren’t exactly the best at grades, that much he knew. Damn, you’d really raised Kuroo’s hopes up.

Well, at least he got to hang out with you, maybe he could make his move then.

When he looked back up, he saw your smiling face, which immediately brought one to his own. “Hey!” He waved you over, glad to see you jogging over with what seemed to be excitement.

“Hey, Tetsurō.” He blushed at the use of the given name. You weren’t exactly close enough friends for that, but you always used it. It’s a wonder how he hadn’t caught on.

“Come on.” You hooked your arm with his and started walking the opposite direction from where you came from, and also the library entrance which Kuroo was waiting at.

“We’re not going to the library?” Kuroo quirked his head to the side in confusion.

You give him a smile, “The arcade! It’s a date y’know?”

“Did you have fun?” You take a sip from your drink as you await his answer.

“Mm, yeah!” Kuroo smiles brightly. He clutched the bear you’d somehow gotten him, curse those claw machines, to his chest.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you a plush.”

“You got this.” You wave your hand dismissively, shaking your phone and it’s new phone charm. He’d gotten it for you with the tickets he’d won.

“And you also got this.” He shakes his own phone, showing off the cat charm.

“Eh,” You shrug. “It’s fine. People buy stuff for their dates all the time.” You wink at him, “I’ll make sure to do that next time.”

“Next time?” He blushes, covering his face.

“Next time.” You repeat.

“I mean..” He knows something is up from that mischievous smile you give him. He can never know if it’s good or bad with you. “a kiss would be a nice equivalent.”

“A-A kiss?” He stutters, blushing again when you nod.

You lean over the table. He gravitates towards you almost instinctively.

Your faces are close, yet none of you make a move. You do so to tease him, he does because he’s just too nervous.

“Can I kiss you?” You keep that mischievous smile, even though you know the answer.

“Yes.”

It’s soft and gentle but it makes Kuroo’s lips tingle. The feeling is nothing like he’d ever expected. But he never expected this either.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x male reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x male reader #nekoma x reader #nekoma x male reader #nekoma x manager #nekoma x manager reader

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horansqueen · 3 years

Text

New Angel - Chapter 15

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2 ☆ chapter 3 ☆ chapter 4 ☆ chapter 5 ☆ chapter 6 ☆ chapter 7 ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.8k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

"So, today's your day, what do we do?" Millie asked as I was driving.

Once again, I had picked her up at her job and I glanced at her, noticing her head was leaned on the bench and she was staring at me. i sent her a small smile and barely had time to see her raise her eyebrows before I put my eyes back on the road.

It was only the second day of our week and I was already feeling better. When I woke up, I felt my heart twist in my chest because of how nervous I was but I decided to focus on the things I'd do with Millie later in the day and I felt better. If I had known someone like Millie could bring me my smile back and would be so entertaining, I would have tried to get closer to her before, even if she annoyed the shit out of me.

"I don't like that look." Millie continued, making me chuckle.

"Don't worry, it's nothing extreme or bad. And after that, we can go out for ice cream, what do you say?"

She remained silent for a while and I finally parked the car and undid my belt.

"Mm, I'm getting out of my routine for you, Horan." she pointed out, her eyebrows raised again but this time, in a suspicious way. "So it better not be golf or any other sport."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to work out or run." I reassured her, my lips curling in an amused smile. "Although I admit I'm quite curious of how good you are at golf."

"I suck. Just like all the other sports."

I chuckled and she followed me upstairs. I told her to wait for me in the living room and disappeared in the hall to reach my bedroom. When I came back, her lips parted slightly and she let out a low chuckle.

"You don't really expect me to play guitar, do you?"

"My student of today canceled. I thought it could be a nice thing to do together." I replied, shrugging a shoulder. "I can show you a few things, I'm not bad of a teacher you know?"

She stared at me for a few seconds and finally moved her head and rolled her eyes, a smile spreading on her lips. "Alright, but don't laugh at me!"

"I promise."

She ended up being actually quite good even if sometimes, she didn't hold the strings hard enough, and after about half an hour, she could play a few chords. I was quite impressed at how fast she was learning and it made me want to take her as a regular student.

"Okay, bring your fingers up." I said gently, staring at her hand. "No, here."

I moved her fingers up, letting them slide on the string, and pressed my finger against hers to help before placing her other fingers on the other strings.

"Okay, perfect."

She moved her head down sliding, staring at her fingers as she played, and my lips curled a bit on the left when she started nibbling on her bottom lip. It was cute how focused she was and it was a great quality when you wanted to learn just about anything.

"Niall, help me, I feel like it's not the sound it should do."

I blinked a few times, getting out of my thoughts to look back at her fingers again. I moved one of them lightly down and pressed on it but this time, I kept it on hers as she played. She stuck her tongue out as if it could help her concentrate and I chuckled low. She didn't notice, too focused on what she was doing, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"Fuck yes, I got it!" her eyes illuminated and a smile drew itself on her lips as I blinked a few times.

"Okay do it again." I proposed, taking my hand away from hers so she could do it by herself.

She did what I asked and I smiled too when I realized she had actually succeeded it. After an hour and a half. she could play an easy song and I leaned against the couch, my eyebrows raised.

"Wow, you're good, Mill!" I exclaimed as she grinned, getting her back straight with pride.

"You're an amazing teacher, Niall!" she just replied. "How much do you charge to do this once a week?"

"For you? Nothing. It's free."

Her head tilted and her smile turned into a fond one. "Thank you."

I liked thinking that we would spend more time together, and knowing we would always have a specific day and time to meet. I knew that both our heartbreaks were going to be rough times to go through and I liked that we had each other. I knew that at the end of the week I was supposed to make a choice on who I wanted to date between Grace and Summer, but no matter who I was going to pick, there was no way I was going to stop spending time with Millie.

"So let's schedule that every tuesday evening?"

Millie smiled again and nodded firmly. "I'm always here."

---

We walked slowly while eating our ice cream and I breathed in deeply, enjoying the warm air of spring. I put my free hand in my pocket but didn't dare to break the comfortable silence between us. I just kept glancing at Millie from time to time, trying not to bump into anything. She seemed lost in her thoughts and I started wondering if she was thinking about Louis, wondering where he was, and what he was doing. The more I looked at her, the more I realized I wanted her to be happy. If I knew anyone who deserved to be, it was definitely her, and it was a shame that she was so sad and that no one could do anything about it. I felt so powerless and it made me think about my own pain. I shut my eyes for a few seconds, trying to push the sadness deeper in my stomach and took an other bite of ice cream as if it could bury it under.

"You're quiet."

I turned my head to look at my friend who was raising her eyebrows.

"You too."

"Were you thinking about Grace?" she asked in a low tone.

"Not really." I shrugged a shoulder. "Were you thinking about Louis?"

It took her a few seconds to answer but she looked away. "Maybe."

"I want to tell you that you shouldn't think about him, but I know it's not an easy thing to do."

"He's probably with his girlfriend that I don't even know the name of." she added low. Her voice was so sad that I felt my heart sink in my chest.

"Eleanor." I told her in a very low tone. "That's her name."

Millie stopped walking for half a second but then just continued. It made me swallow hard, wondering if maybe I should have kept this information for myself. It's not like she was never going to find out anyway and with the sparkles I had seen in Louis' eyes when he was talking to me about her, I knew she was going to stay for a long time.

Millie pressed her lips together for a few seconds and finally sighed, licking her lips nervously.

"I told you she had a royal name."

It was not the thing I thought she'd say and I chuckled low, remembering that she had actually mentioned that before and that it turned out to be true.

"How long does it take to get over someone?"

This time, my friend stopped walking and turned her head my way. I stopped too and turned around to face her and when she took a step closer, my lips parted slightly.

"It depends."

"It's not the first time I have my heart broken, but damn, this time hurts like hell." I explained, shaking my head. "I know she came back and said she wanted be with me again and that she regretted leaving me, but I can't trust her. She ruined everything between us and honestly, Millie, I am so mad at her. I think I'm even angrier now that she's back, because she literally broke my heart only to come back, as if that's what it took to make her realize that she loved me. As if she couldn't see what she was losing before she pushed me away."

Millie stayed there motionless, just listening to me ranting about my ex girlfriend. I sighed and turned around quickly, throwing what was left of my ice cream in the nearest trash can, and my friend followed me, doing the same. I was about to leave again when she grabbed my wrist and I quickly held my breath.

"She couldn't see it. Clearly. She made a mistake, that's for sure." Millie pointed out with a nod. "It doesn't mean she doesn't love you."

"But that means she could leave again at any time. That means I will always be scared that she'll just break my heart again." I argued. "I'm not sure it's worth it."

"You should write that on the list."

I raised my eyebrows and quickly nodded. We found a bench and sad down together. Millie took a pen out of her purse and handed it to me as I slipped the paper out of my back pocket. I stared at it for a while, re-reading what I wrote about the two girls I was supposed to choose from, but I was not sure how to words things.

'I can't trust her' is the first thing I quickly scribbled before sighing and adding 'she broke my heart' right under it. I was about to fold the paper again but Millie gently placed her hand on it, making me look up in her eyes. She moved a bit closer, so close I could see the golden lines that looked like lightning bolts around her pupils.

"I think you need to also write something in the 'pros', don't you think?" she whispered.

I stared at her a few more seconds and finally wrote the first good thing under Grace's name. I could feel my hand shake very lightly as I moved my pen on the paper and when I was done, I thought I'd feel lighter but I actually felt even worse.

'I love her'

----

"I'm fucking starving." I pointed out when we pushed on the door of a small restaurant.

Millie laughed and raised her eyebrows at me, following me as I walked up to the counter. "When are you not?"

"Hey, it's not like I eat all the time or anything!"

"You could have cooked for us tonight!" she argued, ignoring my comment. "You're amazing at cooking but you're bringing me here! Or maybe you only cook for the pretty girls you want to date, is that it?"

Her lips curled into an amused smile and I knew she was joking but there was no way I was going to let her believe that I wouldn't cook for her, I raised my eyebrows too and moved my chin down, staring at her.

"I'll cook for you tomorrow, It's a promise."

It seemed to satisfy her and she sent me a big smile before nodding. The waitress brought us to a table and I suddenly lost my smile. On the table next to ours was sitting a pretty brunette and I swallowed hard when her brown eyes met mine. She seemed surprised too and I couldn't stop looking at her as she got up and sent me a small smile.

"Hey, Niall." she murmured softly, bringing her shoulders up and closer to her cheeks. "I didn't know you came here sometimes... I... I'm happy to see you."

"Grace, hi."

It took me a few seconds to glance quickly at who was eating with her and I noticed her best friend Rose, sitting awkwardly in front of her. I felt my whole body relax suddenly and at the same time, my heart jumped in my chest. If she had been on a date with an other guy, it would have been easier. I could have put a cross on her and not be so torn about how I felt. I wouldn't have to ask myself if I wanted to try with her again, and if it was worth risking having my heart broken a second time by the same girl. If she had been with an other man, I could have just turned around and left after telling her to 'fuck off'. But she was here with a friend and I knew it was totally platonic between them.

I got out of my thoughts when she moved closer to kiss my cheek and without thinking, I moved my upper body back. She looked hurt but she just sent me a sad smile.

"How are you?" she asked before turning around to look at my best friend. "Hey Millie."

"I'm... I'm alright."

A silence came between us but this time, it was uncomfortable. I could feel my heart thump hard against my rib cage and I swallowed hard, wondering what else I should do or say but before I could think of anything, Millie moved closer to me and smiled.

"Actually, we were not going to eat here, we wanted to take out."

"Oh." Grace glanced at her friend and finally shrugged, putting her gaze on me again. "Okay well, call me?"

"Will do."

"It was nice seeing you again, Grace!" Millie replied, grabbing my arm and bringing me back to the counter.

We remained silent until the waitress came back and my friend told her we were going to get take out instead as I remained silent. She ordered for both of us and the whole time, I stared at a spot on the counter to make sure I wouldn't just look at my ex girlfriend again.

I let out a loud sigh when we walked out and breathed in as if it was the first time I could do it in a few hours. Millie wrapped her arms around one of mine and leaned her chin on it to look up at me.

"Are you okay?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." I let out, completely confused. "I just want to go home."

Millie nodded very slowly, her chin rubbing gently on the sleeve of my shirt, and she squeezed my arm tight before letting go. I was not sure how I was feeling. I still loved Grace, there was no doubt about it, and seeing her again did something in my stomach, but I also knew that the love I had for her was different now. It was not intense and obsessed like it used to be. It was a sad and resigned love and I was not sure I liked it. I was starting to think that maybe, letting go of Grace and the feelings I had for her was the best thing to do to spare my heart. Maybe it was only because I had just seen her but I felt like going back with her would be a mistake and I was not sure I wanted to make it. I wanted to say that I had given this relationship as many chances as possible but I couldn't act like everything could be forgiven and forgotten because it definitely couldn't.

I would still play the game with the lists for the rest of the week but the more I thought about it, the less sure I was that I would be ready to pick a girl at the end of the week.

I noticed Millie glancing at me from time to time and it made me feel better. It was great to have someone close to me that actually cared. I had friends and family, of course, but with Millie, it was different. I could read her and I knew she could read me. We were going through the same thing and only her really knew how I was feeling at that moment.

"Can we just go back to that amazing friendship week together?" I asked, raising my nose up as we got closer to our apartment.

"Of course, why do you think I said we'd just bring the food home instead of staying there?"

I turned to her, my lips curling on the left. "Thanks for that."

"Hey, it's cool, I'm always here for you."

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