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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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“Not My Bias”: Park Jimin Imagine: Plus Size Reader

Park Jimin Imagine Summary: Jimin is upset because he is not the chosen bias of his girlfriend but instead it's actually Namjoon. A/N: Also, this is just an imagine, a oneshot if you will. However, if you want to see more of the story, just let me know. Extra: Plus Size. Also, woman is older than the man by a few years. Pre-established relationship, Jimin is dating an Army, ft Platonic moments with Yoongi. Warning: Fluff, Angst, mentions of suicide and issues with mental health, arguing, jealously... teeeeennnnnnsssssiiiooonn. Anyway, yeah. ----

Flared nostrils and a deep breath.

'He's just having a day. Let it go. He's just in a mood.'

The thought swirled around in that head like smoke.

"Babe, you were all over him. I don't know how you can think that's ok? If I had done that to someone you would've flipped out!" Jimin's voice sounded.

Regardless of the fact that Jimin was continuously all over people because he was very affectionate and naturally flirty.

Also, regardless of the fact that he literally had millions of people ready to volunteer like Katniss for the Hunger Games at the drop of a hat.

Regardless of the fact that it was very much clear as to how much he was loved and adored by his partner.

Still.

'Don't snap. Don't lash out. Just let it go.'

The thought swirled less like smoke and more like the unstable circle of terror that was the beginnings of a hurricane.

"I mean, fuck, you might as well just be with him. You were practically eye fucking him right in front of me."

Stone cold.

Every thought brewing in that mind was screaming to let it go, to talk to him calmly, to just fix it.

But that's not what happened.

Because even though Jimin was clearly feeling insecure and it had turned into jealously... you had feelings too.

You slowly turned to look at him.

Jimin's gaze was hard as he looked back.

He had that about him where one second he could be cute and adorable and the next he could be very intimidating.

However, his duality was no match for yours in that moment.

"Jimin, you've got about three seconds to apologize." you said evenly.

"Apologize?" He scoffed. "For what? Apologize for calling the bullshit when I see my girlfriend trying to fuck one of my best friends right in front of me?"

That was it.

You had a long fuse on a big bomb and right now... you weren't just a stick of dynamite.

You were a nuclear bomb.

You ran your tongue over your teeth trying in vain to calm down.

"First of all, fuck you." you snapped and his brows lifted on his forehead. "Yeah I said it. Don't you ever insinuate that I am anything less to faithful to you. God dammit, Jimin. I didn't want to have a fucking fight with you but since you seem so hell bent on it, let's go. It's time for war, mother fucker."

His gaze intensified at your response, "Don't you talk to me like -"

"Me?!" you snapped. "You want to talk about me? You're the one who stood right there, basically called me a whore and accused me of fucking your friend! Who by the way, you owe a god damn apology to! He didn't do anything to you and you've been a dick the whole day!"

It was the wrong thing to say and you knew it.

Bringing up Namjoon during a fight, especially considering the context was the worse thing you could've done.

It further ignited his anger and his jealously all but consumed him.

But you didn't care.

He may have started the fire but you brought the gasoline.

"That's just great, Y/N. Wonderful. Exactly the way to convince your boyfriend that you're not fucking someone else. Defending them in the middle of an argument."

Your screaming had clearly drawn attention and the door opened to reveal Jin's concerned face.

He said something but the two of you were too far gone in trying to outscream each other to hear him.

"That you started!" you snapped at Jimin.

"I was trying to talk to you!"

"You were accusing me!"

"Because it was obvious!"

You were shaking when Yoongi's head popped in beside Jin's but you paid them no mind even when Hobi appeared in the doorway.

"Guys, come on." Hobi said trying to calm you both down. "Don't do this."

"Come on. Let's go get some food and chill out." Jin offered, knowing very well how Jimin's temper could be and also how he could say some horrible things when he really didn't mean them.

He had a sinking feeling that they'd already been said though and there wasn't much that could be done.

"What was so obvious to you, Jimin? Hm? I am a fan. You know this? I was an Army before I ever met you. This was abundantly clear to you from the beginning. Did you really think that there would never be moments when I wouldn't be starstruck occasionally?" you seethed. "Because I'm sorry I'm not perfect Park fucking Jimin! I'm human!"

His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not what this is about." he said.

"Yeah, the fuck, it is." you snapped. "Listen, I'm about to make myself abundantly clear about something. You don't fucking know me as well as you seem to think you do."

"Clearly." he responded and you had to fight the urge not to strangle him.

Yoongi almost rolled his eyes at Jimin and his fucking mouth.

The rest of the members had joined the chaos at this point and you... you just no longer cared.

You were ready to go to war.

Fuck it all.

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, staring at the carpet before lifting your eyes up to Jimin's again.

"You seem to think that you have me completely figured out and you know everything about me. But you don't know shit, Jimin. Just because we've been dating for three months does not mean that you suddenly know every thought in my head. But you're about to find some shit out about me right now."

"You're right. I don't know wh-"

"Shut the fuck up." you said coldly. "You want to know so god damn badly why Namjoon is my bias? Fine, I'll tell you and you can either deal with it or you can continue to be a spoiled, selfish little brat. I don't really care anymore."

He would've fought you for calling him that but internally something stopped him.

"I was never into this type of music. It wasn't my thing. I listened to metal and classic rock. That was what I liked. So BTS was never really in my statosphere. But a few years ago, I was at my lowest. My husband had cheated on me leading me to file for an immediate divorce. I had just lost our baby and I was wrecked. I didn't want to do it anymore. So let me paint you a picture here, Jimin. I was standing in my childhood bedroom because I couldn't bare to be in that house where he fucked his secretary. I'm standing there in front of my little vanity from when I was a kid and I had my grandpa's pistol loaded, the barrel in my mouth. My finger was on the trigger and I started to press down."

Jimin, all with everyone else, had gone completely pale.

"And then suddenly my cousin's stereo starts thudding from the other side of the wall. And it's "Voice" from Joon's first mixtape and I stopped. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood what I was going through. I put the gun down and I saw there on the floor with my ear pressed against the wall listening to that song. I cried until I couldn't breathe because no one had ever put my feelings into words like that before. That song. Those lyrics. They saved me. I put the gun away as if it had burned me, I cried because I had been so close to ending it all over someone else who wasn't worth it. I went home that night, researched the lyrics and figured out who wrote them and then I began listening to anything and everything that Namjoon had a hand in creating. Because it was those words that kicked me back off the ledge."

Jimin was completely still at this point.

No movement.

No sound.

No nothing.

You were staring straight into his soul in that moment.

"So you'll have to excuse me if ever so often I get a little starstruck with the person who literally wrote the wrong that kept me from killing myself." you said lowly.

You finally looked around to see the rest of the members there, skin heating with embarassment that they'd just watched you and Jimin verbally rip each other's throats out and then hear your suicide attempt story.

You looked at Jimin once more before you shook your head and pushed your way through the members.

Several tried to comfort you but you didn't want to hear it.

You just wanted out.

And that was exactly what you did, shoving through the door and disappearing from sight.

Immediately, upon the slam of the door, Jimin erupted into tears, crashing to the ground.

He hadn't known any of that.

Taehyung rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms and trying to calm him down enough to function.

Yoongi pursed his lips before going after you.

He knew what it was like to pick at old scars like that and how fresh those old wounds could still be.

He caught up to you rather easily, insisting that you let him take you out to eat.

You fought him on it but he did something that he rarely ever did.

He pulled out his super power on you and used his cuteness.

And you couldn't resist the lil meow meow so you caved... just like he knew you would.

You didn't mind it as much as you thought you would.

Yoongi didn't push you and instead the two of just enjoyed a meal together.

You fought him over the check but he already slipped the waitress his card before you could even get a word in edgewise.

Then he took you to a local dog park, watching puppies chase their own tails because he knew it was impossible to watch dogs smack into each other and not smile.

He didn't force you to talk or to address what had just happened.

But what he did do was stay with you, offer you kindness, made sure you ate and did something that made you smile.

He reached out to place his hand on yours and gave it a squeeze.

"I won't pretend that I know what you've been through. I'm not that arrogant and I'm not you. But I do understand what it's like to get to a point where you don't want to do it anymore." he said as the two of you focused on a pomeranian with an attitude problem who reminded you both of Yeontan.

"You can talk to me. Anytime." he said. "I know I don't usually say alot but I'll listen. I promise."

"Thanks, Yoongi. I'm fine. I promise. I'm alot better now. I'm not the person I used to be. Things are different. Jimin just really hit a nerve with what he was saying and I snapped." you explained.

He nodded with a sigh.

"Jimin is someone who is full of emotion. He's passionate. That sometimes means that he loses his temper when he's scared. He loves you and he's more insecure about losing you than he lets on. He didn't express that in the right way at all. I won't defend him on that. I'm just saying, don't give up just because you two had a fight. A hell of one, mind you. Do you realize that you're terrifying when you're angry?"

You finally broke into a laugh at his words.

"I thought Jimin was the scary one." you commented, knowing very well that every single one of them collectively thought Jimin was terrifying when he was really angry.

"Shit, he's a punk compared to you." Yoongi chuckled. "You looked like an absolute demon. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd have never believed sweet Y/N looked like she was forged in the fires of hell."

You nearly snorted at his response before finally looking over at him.

"Thanks, Yoongi. Really. You made me feel a lot better." you admitted. "I'm glad you came after me. This was much better than how I likely would've handled it."

"How would you have handled it?" he questioned.

"Probably something self sabotaging and toxic as hell." you shrugged. "Or maybe I just would've cried when I cooled off. Or took off. I've been known to jump in the car and just keep driving when I'm angry. It's literally me running from my problems but for the lazy because fuck that. I'm not running from anybody. Zombies can just eat this ass."

He shook with laughter.

It was one of the reasons he liked you a lot and he thought you were perfect for Jimin.

You were naturally funny and had a great wit about you... and you were tough.

You needed to be tough if you were going to date someone who worked in the business they did.

You don't fall in love with the idol, you fall for the person.... but that person still has a job and to be their partner is really hard.

It wasn't for the weak of heart.

The two of you sat there for a while.

You'd turned your phone off almost instantly as soon as you cleared the building, not even entertaining the thought of dealing with any questions.

You assumed that Yoongi had likely told someone he was with you since he'd been with you for hours and no one was calling him.

You took in his profile as he watched a squirrel run up a tree.

You could practically see him thinking.

"Just spit it out." you sighed and his lips quirked just a little before looking at you.

"What makes you think I have something to say?" he questioned.

"Because, unfortunately, we are too much alike in some ways." you said.

He chuckled, "All I'm going to say is, cut Jimin some slack. He's crazy about you. Anyone can see that. And also, give him a chance to digest everything you just told him today. That was a lot. You know that better than anyone."

"I didn't mean to tell him like that." you shrugged. "I didn't mean to tell him that at all."

"Why not?" Yoongi asked, very seriously. "You love Jimin right?"

"Yeah, of course." you said.

"And you trust him?" he said.

"Yeaaahhh." you said.

"Then how come you haven't talked to him about that before?" he asked.

"Because we've only been together for three months, Yoongi and we haven't spent a ton of time with one another in those three months. You don't just blurt your past suicide attempts out to people like that." you all but snapped.

You were getting defensive and he knew it.

But Yoongi also knew that you were only being like that because he'd hit a nerve.

He knew because he was like that at times.

"You were friends before you got together." he pointed out. "I know you're an Army. I get it. But you and Jimin clicked at that fan event that day. Don't get me wrongs. He's a hopeless flirt but Jimin has never willingly forked over his phone number like that. He didn't even know your name and he was hooked."

You ground your teeth because you knew he was right.

"All I'm saying is, give him a chance. He's jealous of Joon. He can't help it. A part of him wants to be your bias because he's your boyfriend. I can get that." Yoongi shrugged.

"It's not like Joon is my bias is a romantic way, Yoongi." you sighed. "I literally just -"

"I know." Yoongi cut you off. "I know. I get it. Trust me. We are all painfully aware of that situation now."

You chewed on your lip, vulnerable at having your business out there like that.

"Hey." he said reaching for your hand. "I didn't meant that to come off the way it did. I'm glad we know. I wish you hadn't felt like you were so backed into the corner that you had to come out with it like that. But still, it's good to know that about you. I think it'll bring us closer as a group."

You just nodded.

He sighed, "Listen, I'm gonna tell you something that I think we'll help. Men are rather simple in a lot of ways. Some not so much but others- incredibly so."

You lifted a brow at him.

"Ok?"

"Explain that Joon's work inspires you and it helped you through a lot." he said.

"I literally just-"

"No, stop and listen to me." he cut you off. "Explain that you admire Namjoon and his work. You love his writing. This is also true for me or Hobi right? You and I have talked for hours about some of my stuff and I know you and Hobi sat there and dissected Hope World for like three days. You admire the work, the lyrics, the content, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I know that it's a little different with Joon because his song was the first one you'd heard and it was a rather traumatic time. So there's somewhat of an emotional attachment there. And honestly, I think that's what Jimin is so scared of." he said.

"Scared of what? It's music and yeah, I love the way Joon writes and yeah it was a crazy time but I'm in love with Jimin." you argued.

"Jimin is scared that Namjoon could take you away from him." Yoongi said directly.

"What?" you gasped. "But I love Jimin."

"I know that." Yoongi said. "Everyone knows that. But he also knows how much you obsess over anything Joon writes."

"It's good music." you said.

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, it is. But Jimin has likely got it in his head that you could easily just run off with Joon and have this philosophical conversations about poetry and lyrics. I'd be willing to be money on it that he's insecure because you didn't start out loving BTS, you started out loving RM. And that scares him."

"It was never about loving RM or BTS." you countered. "I needed those lyrics. I liked RM as a musician. I liked BTS as a group. But I fell in love with Jimin. And I'll tell you another god damn thing, I never fucking meant to either! I didn't want to love anyone after that shit happened!"

Your temper was flaring, which truthfully was dangerous, as Yoongi could match you in it.

But he also realized you were just very sensitive right now and not actually angry so he just watched you calmly.

"I didn't want to fall in love with anyone. Ever again, Yoongi. I was terrified. I'm still terrified. But I met Jimin and he fucking smiled at me and I crumbled. It wasn't really about me falling in love with him. I jumped head first into the darkness because even though it scared me shitless, I didn't care. He's worth it. No matter what."

You didn't realize that you'd gotten to your feet until Yoongi was smiling at you and he gently nodded over your shoulder.

You turned around and there he was.

Of course.

Jimin.

With his expressive dark eyes and his dreamy lips.

As cliche as it is, it was almost as if time stopped.

There was nothing else but Jimin and you.

It became a race to get to one another and as soon as you got within arms reach of each other, your kisses were feverent.

"I'm sorry's" and "No I'm sorry" and "You didn't do anything wrong" "I was just jealous" "No, no, no"

They all clanged together in a jumbled mess of mutterings slurred with kisses.

"Joon is not my bias, Jimin." you breathed.

"Baby, it's fine. It's not a big deal. I just got a little -"

"No, listen." you breathed. "He's not. I admire him. I admire his work. But he's not my bias. I don't have a bias."

Jimin pulled back to look at you, "What?"

"I don't have a bias." you clarified. "I don't pick favorites."

"Uh..." he said.

"I don't have a bias." you repeated. "But I do have something else. Something super special."

"What's that?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"A keeper." you said.

"A keeper?" he asked.

"Yep, the keeper of my heart. Only one person can be that and that's you."

It was cheesy.

Ridiculously so.

But Jimin melted for you and he squeezed your soft body to his so tightly that you could barely breathe.

And all the while, Min Yoongi sat on that park bench, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Smug grin ever permanent on his impish features.

"Lil Meow Meow strikes again..." he whispered to himself.

------

—-

Hey loves!

I hope you enjoyed and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

If you’re interested in any of my other BTS works you can find the masterlist HERE

Love,

Mama Kennysaurus

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

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Hi! Me again! I don’t know if you’ve done this or not or something that might interest you. But HC with Ethan and MC meeting like Derek and Meredith, sleeping together before knowing they work together?

I really enjoyed this one! A. I got to do “research” by rewatching Grey’s. B. I loved the way this turned out. If this becomes it’s own fic, don’t be surprised.

Ethan & f!MC - Meeting Before Knowing They Worked Together

When MC walked into Donahue’s on the eve of her first day at Edenbrook, she was determined to have one last night where she wasn’t an incoming resident or a future diagnostician or anything other than a girl at a bar.

Maybe she should have known that a bar that close to a hospital would attract its employees.

But really, when she saw Ethan, she wasn’t thinking.

He was just a handsome man sitting alone at a bar, and she was just a girl.

Neither of them meant to go home together that night. If anything, they felt like they were trapped in some magnetic pull.

They had to talk. Ethan had to buy her a drink, and MC had to move closer. A few hours later, when Ethan called himself a cab, it was a foregone conclusion that MC would be in the backseat next to him.

That night was amazing.

The morning, however…

MC woke up hungover to Ethan’s morning alarm. The 45-second gap between MC waking and Ethan turning off the alarm was as close to hell as MC ever wanted to be.

“Why is it so loud?” she grumbled, covering her eyes with her arm.

“It’s an alarm.”

“Right.”

…

“What time is it?”

“6.”

“What?”

MC scrambled for her phone and emitted a panicked groan that made Ethan do a double-take. Jolted awake with anxiety, MC got out of bed and fumbled for her clothes, which lined Ethan’s floor haphazardly.

He watched with bemused confusion.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying not to smirk as she mumbled a thousand curses under her breath as she tried to button her jeans.

“I’m going to be late.”

“For?”

“My first day.”

“At?”

“My job.”

Ethan was both amused and frustrated with her insistence on remaining vague. She didn’t seem particularly interested in talking to him, or in him at all this morning. That should have been a blessing. He never liked the awkward, post-sex small talk or the polite feigned interest in each other’s life.

Maybe he was so interested in MC because she wasn’t interested in him.

Either way, he asked her name. She didn’t seem to be offended that he forgot, and a moment later, she admitted that she didn’t know his either.

Ethan asked if she wanted coffee. Nearly tripping as she buckled her wedges, MC said she didn’t have time. He asked for a raincheck.

MC paused, debating how to answer. She didn’t walk into that bar to find someone, nor did she move to Boston with the intention of dating anyone. She didn’t have time for coffee dates, no matter how handsome this stranger was.

But instead of letting him down gently, she walked to his bedside table where he kept a pen and paper for late-night epiphanies. She scribbled her name and number on the top sheet.

And then she had to go.

Ethan called out a goodbye, and though she didn’t return it, she smiled softly in the elevator.

The next hour or so was chaos. MC’s ride back to her apartment was slowed by morning traffic, so running out of time, MC ran upstairs, changed, grabbed what she needed, and ran back downstairs in a panic. 10 minutes into her commute, she realized her phone was dead, and she blindly navigated her new city.

Considering everything, it was a miracle she was only 5 minutes late.

But she was still late.

MC moved through orientation feeling like she was always a step behind because she was late. She made a few friends, all of whom assured her that she hadn’t missed much, but one maintained a sly, condescending smile as if he’d somehow won today’s game by being earlier than her.

She was so focused on making up for lost time that she didn’t notice her familiar coworker until it was too late.

They were in the halls when their paths first crossed.

Ethan saw her first. At first, it was just a quick glance, but when he realized who she was, he stopped dead in his tracks.

MC, coffee in one hand and a chart in the other, kept walking and only offered a cursory glance of intrigue when she saw someone stop in the halls.

She nearly dropped her coffee in shock.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

And then they stared at each other’s IDs.

MC felt nauseous when she read his name. Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Her hero. Her boss.

She had sex with her boss.

And Ethan had sex with an intern!

Ethan opened his mouth to say something – though God knows, he didn’t know what he was going to say – but didn’t get the opportunity. Panicked, MC just walked away.

The rest of the day, she felt like she was in a daze.

What had she been thinking? She should have never gone out last night at all.

Two hours later, they ran into each other again – this time, in a lonely elevator with no immediate exit. They were trapped.

MC spoke first.

“So, you’re… you’re Dr. Ramsey then.”

“I am.”

“Right…” MC evaded eye contact, “I read your book.”

Ethan cringed, “Oh.”

After a beat, he asked, “So, what are you? Surgery? Pediatrics?”

“Diagnostics.”

“Oh.”

Realizing that Ethan was MC’s direct supervisor, they agreed to pretend nothing ever happened. As soon as they exited this elevator, they would never speak of it again. They shared an awkward handshake just before the doors opened.

They fully intended to stay apart, but they kept running into each other.

MC quickly established herself as a promising if flawed doctor. Ethan was intrigued by her potential. After days of deliberation, he decided it would be unfair to refrain from mentoring her just because they made one mistake.

He told himself it was pure professional interest, but if that were true, he wouldn’t have kept her number all this time.

Ethan was hard on MC. His criticisms became so frequent they felt like abuse. He expected a lot from her – more than he expected from any other intern, save for Aurora. She responded to the criticism with improved performance, and Ethan saw no reason to let up now.

She couldn’t reach her potential if she was afraid to grow.

He kept his compliments and growing respect mostly to himself. He worried that, given their past, sharing them would appear inappropriate.

So, as Ethan grew attached to MC, she brewed in dislike.

The differential treatment was obvious. While Ethan flattered himself that he was pushing her to greatness, she just felt pushed and underappreciated. Her success was only met with more challenges. She was exhausted, and she blamed Ethan.

And Ethan had the misfortune of sitting next to her at Donahue’s the night she reached her limit.

He asked if she wanted a drink. She answered with the kind of glare that could slit throats.

Ethan’s reasoning was clouded with MC. Though he recognized her annoyance and knew to leave, he didn’t. He ordered his drink and remained next to her as she fumed.

After 10 minutes of silence, MC finished her third beer and asked, “Why are you such a dick?”

Ethan choked on his drink.

“If you’re just punishing me because of that night, that’s not appropriate. I’m a doctor, not just the girl from a bar you slept with.”

“I am not punishing you, and if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be for that reason.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in her system. Maybe it was months of resentment. Or maybe it was because, no matter what he did, he was still the handsome stranger at a bar. The magnetic draw they found in Donahue’s never waned. She still wanted him to pick up her number and schedule that coffee date.

Whatever it was, MC let him have it.

They ended up in an alley, yelling at each other like the rest of the world couldn’t hear them. Under the cover of false anonymity, they released so much frustration that their voices reached screams.

And then…

Well, they later blamed the passion of the moment.

But, once they had released all of their frustrations, one lingered. They resented staying apart.

So, that night, they didn’t.

In the middle of a screaming match where MC aimed a long stream of expletives at him, Ethan kissed her. And then MC kissed him. And then they were in a cab, and they were back in his apartment. And… and it started all over.

And the worst part was that they each had a sobering moment where they realized what they were doing, and they did it anyway.

In the morning, they had the same conversation they had in the elevator. This was an unprofessional, irresponsible mistake, and it wouldn’t happen again.

But it did.

And at some point, they realized they were no longer thrown together in the rush of adrenaline and frustration. They were together on the good days and in the smiling moments.

A thousand small decisions tied them to one another.

MC wasn’t just a girl in a bar.

She never had been.

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#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #choices #headcanon #hc

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s-and-n-writes · 3 years

Text

stolen smiles and little black lies

crimson and bluebell: part one

summary:

Marinette Rossi is tired of everything: from Lila's constant berating and Madame Rossi's preferential care of her 'angel-like' daughter, to how everyone at school (even Alya) seems to believe her evil stepsister over her.

It's like she's Cinderella, except without the fairy godmother and the happy ending. She doesn't even have a prince.

Or so she thinks.

Between the appearance of a new boy who seems to have captured her heart, and a gala run by her fashion idol Gabriel Agreste, Marinette hopes for an escape the constant ignorance, workload, and bullying she endures, and get a blissful life of her own.

With the help of one tiny god and a meow-velous partner, she might finally get a chance, but not everything is that simple.

They say ladybugs are lucky, so will being the elusive Ladybug bring Marinette the luck she oh-so-desperately needs?

quick links:

| next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

a/n: first chapter’s up! i hope you guys like it! if you wanna be part of the taglist for this, shoot me a message! :)

It’s dawn when Marinette’s alarm rings.

The sun peaks through the attic window, frail rays treacherously passing through the glass as Marinette hits snooze for the third time.

She’s late, as usual, but that’s no surprise.

By the time the sky swells with pink, and the silver stars littering the morning sky fade, Marinette’s alarm has gone off a fourth time, the shrill ringing and flashing salmon-red of the numbers cutting through the silence of the morning, as the girl in question finally wakes.

The pink sky changes into the warm undertones of peach and the rising sun peaks further out from the mountains when Marinette is ready. She ties back her midnight-blue locks of hair into twin tails on either side of her head with the two once-red bands she’d once found discarded in front of Lie-La Lila’s room.

Lost, forgotten, discarded.

The words seem to sum her up perfectly.

She heads down to the kitchen just as the peach sky cools into blue, the sun rising overhead to begin the new day, and she smiles as she gazes for a minute down the hallway window to the cobblestone streets below.

The grin on her face quickly shifts into a frown once she heads into the kitchen.

Fortunately, preparation for breakfast finishes up quicker than usual, and the lovely smell of fresh-baked croissants waft through the house. Marinette takes this time to glance at her phone, a well treasured gift after months of working at the bakery. The phone is in no way one of the best, and certainly can’t compare to Chloe’s, but Marinette is happy with it, so the cracked screen and the faded case are overlooked.

It must be the croissants that make Madame Rossi to come downstairs, dark bags fresh under her eyes. Marinette feels sorry for her, knowing her long days and longer nights at the embassy, so she merely smiles as Madame Rossi sits into one of the dining room chairs, slumping gracefully on the cool-white tabletop.

The embassy job pays well, though, and the house they are in proves that.

“Morning Madame,” Marinette says, pushing towards Madame Rossi a croissant laid delicately onto the new white plates.

Lila’s mother is certainly her favorite Rossi, since Lila has some...tendencies that Marinette doesn’t like. Especially when they’re being used towards her, as they often are.

But even if Madame Rossi was the most tolerable of the Rossi family, Marinette knows that she has flaws.

Madame tilts her head as she glances at the croissant, and then at Marinette, accepting the plate with a tired smile.

“Good morning Marinette,” she says, nibbling gently on the croissant. “Have you seen Lila yet?”

Marinette bites her lip in frustration at the woman’s blatant love of her daughter. If Madame Rossi had truly wanted to see it, she would’ve found the holes in Lila’s fake personality years ago.

“N-no Madame,” she stutters. The topic of Lila always seems to make Marinette nervous, since the girl in question could be listening from anywhere.

And since Marinette has had many an experience with calling Lila out, usually ending with purple-ish bruises covering inches of her skin, she does not want to make the same mistake again.

But it’s then that Lila appears in the living room, fake smile on par with the rest of her demeanor and carrying a small brown bag. Marinette notices how Madame Rossi immediately brightens: her skin glows, her eyes happily crinkle at the edges, and a smile replaces her forlorn frown.

It’s almost enough to make Marinette jealous. Lila has someone to lean on, someone who loves her, when she has no one.

Marinette’s not blind. She’s seen how Madame Rossi looks when Lila comes into the room, versus her. She knows she’s adopted (as if the hair didn’t give it all away). It’s an unspoken truth in the family, and even if Marinette doesn’t know who her birth parents are, she supposes she’s ok with her family right now.

Or at least, she hopes she is.

Because she has no one else.

Madame Rossi feeds her and clothes her, yes, but deep down Marinette knows she’s a burden; one that has to prove her worth to stay. It doesn’t matter that she works harder, or has a better personality, because Lila will always be painted as an angel in Madame Rossi’s eyes, and Marinette as the weight that the Rossi family shoulders.

Lila, however, is the variable that creates chaos for Marinette, as she spins and weaves lies like an intricate blanket to her advantage. Marinette is a pawn on her chess board, barely surviving as Lila throws obstacle after obstacle at her. After all, Marinette can still count the times Lila has been nice to her on one hand, even if the hand has no fingers.

“Good morning, Mother!” Lila greets, her perfect smile stretching across her face.

But Marinette had been there long enough. She always saw the flaws: the slight twitch in Lila’s eye, the scowl before the smirk, the smirk before the smile.

“Good morning Lila, dear, how are you? Did you get a good night’s rest?” Madame Rossi questions, the concern and genuine love clearly visible in her eyes.

Marinette refrains from biting her already-bruised lip yet again, and walks towards the kitchen for a well-needed breath of fresh air.

“I slept well, Mother,” Lila replies from the dining room, voice visibly louder to let Marinette hear, “Well, as well as I could, since Marinette’s snores drifted from the attic,”

“Oh dear,” Madame Rossi responds, turning around briefly to glance at Marinette with a look of despondency.

“I just get so tired when I don’t get my beauty rest. And God knows I need it, what with the insomnia the doctor diagnosed. I already look horrible!” Lila groans, adding in a perfectly timed yawn at the center of her sentence.

Ah yes. Marinette can perfectly remember the fake doctor’s visit, the fake doctor herself, and the fake insomnia Lila created.

“Lila, don’t say that about yourself. You are the most beautiful girl, and the best daughter. Insomnia is merely a setback that you can get over, just like anything else” Madame Rossi fondly says, “and as for your tiredness, perhaps you can take a nap after school today. Marinette can do your chores,”

Once again, Madame Rossi has perfectly catered to Lila’s needs, unknowingly belittling Marinette. After all, Lila is the real master around the Rossi household, dragging all others around like puppets on strings.

“Marinette, are you okay with that?” Lila questions, her eyes full of concern. If Marinette was new around the house, she might’ve allowed herself to believe her. But Marinette is not new; she’s been here for years, and she knows Lila too well. Her slightly narrowed hershey brown eyes and almost-sympathetic furrowed brows scream ‘do it or else!’, an obvious indicator that she has to agree.

Otherwise, things won’t end well...

“Yes, that is perfectly fine Lila, um, please go upstairs and rest,” Marinette says, adding on an ‘after breakfast of course’ after Lila subtly glares at her (likely thinking it’s a ploy to shoo her away).

Lila smiles, and takes a seat at the large dinner table, crossing her legs and placing her hands over her lap.

“Wonderful! Thank you Mother!” she smiles. “Now Marinette, where is my croissant?”

“Ah, uh, right here,” Marinette says, avoiding eye contact as she passes the croissant to Lila. Lila smirks in reply, and glances at her mother.

“So…” Lila pauses, considering how to proceed with small-talk, “how’s the er-the embassy?”

“Doing well!” Madame Rossi smiles. “I actually have an event next week that I’d love for you girls to come to!”

“Mom, I’m not quite sure I’m free…” Lila frowns. “But go ahead, tell me what it is,”

Marinette steps into the kitchen, listening intently as she brews a pot of coffee. The hot liquid nearly burns the pads of her fingers as she pours it into three cups, but it’s nothing she hasn’t felt before.

“Ah, well, there’s a gala that Gabriel Agreste is hosting,” Madame Rossi explains, taking a bite of her croissant.

“Gabriel Agreste, right?” Lila smirks, eyes training on Marinette, “I assume this is for, perhaps, new fashion designers? Maybe he wants to, um, I don’t know, scope out an intern?”

The bluenette on the other side of the room twitches as she rubs her hands together, barely containing her excitement.

“Yes!” Madame Rossi grins, “You’re so smart Lila. Maybe we should move you up a grade-”

“Er-um, when would this be, um Madame?” Marinette cuts in.

Madame Rossi raises an eyebrow. “Hold on Marinette. I’m not quite done explaining yet. No need to get so impatient,”

“Yea,” Lila shrills evilly, glancing between her mother and her so-called sister as she quickly formulates a plan, “Hold on, Marinette. She’s just getting started,”

There’s a double meaning behind Lila’s words, like the sharp edge of a sword being pressed against Marinette’s neck, quickly drawing out blood the color of cherry-red roses. It’s a warning, that Lila is the one just getting started, not Madame Rossi.

Marinette chooses to shrink back, and stay silent in the moment, fear of Lila winning over her genuine excitement.

Like always.

She’s used to it though. It’s ok.

Madame Rossi ignores Marinette’s suddenly startled breathing, and continues with her explanation.

“The embassy has to get involved because this could make headlines, since Monsieur Agreste invited many of the world’s most famous fashion designers. If France gains tourists because of this, it could boost our economy,” Madame Rossi says as Marinette brings a pot of coffee to her.

“That’s so exciting Mom!” Lila (fake) smiles.

“I’m glad you think so!” Madame Rossi replies, “We have to host a two day program welcoming all of these people to Paris. Monsieur Agreste himself will be there! There’s, um, there’s a welcoming ceremony, then a formal dinner, and finally, oh uh, finally… actually I’ll get back to you on the last thing,”

“No prob!” Lila smiles. Marinette rolls her eyes in retaliation before Lila can see.

“Anyways, I wanted to invite you girls! So many people are bringing their children. The head of the embassy’s bringing her daughter, my boss and her daughter and her son are coming, not to mention Monsieur Agreste’s son, and I thought-”

“Hold on,” Lila interrupts. “Adrien Agreste will be there? THE ADRIEN AGRESTE?!”

“Yes, he will be,” Madame Rossi laughs, “Eager, are you?”

“Er-no, he, well, he’s just, uh, really popular you know? It could really boost my career, in um, fashion designing,” Lila covers, smoothly altering her voice to sound desperate and longing.

“You want to be a fashion designer?” Madame Rossi smiles, genuine tears in her eyes. She wipes them away with the back of her hand and sighs, “You’ve never told me, darling!”

“Never came up!” Lila laughs uneasily, paling as she clenches her fists to veil the irritation hidden inside her.

Marinette’s lip has turned pale, a gash running through the side that she continues to bite. It’s a reserve for all her anger, mainly at Lila. She’d have to steal some of Alya’s preppy-red lipstick when she gets to school, to cover up the bruise.

“Lila, um, you don’t mind me asking, but who is Adrien Agreste?” Marinette cuts in, failing to follow the conversation.

Lila doesn’t have to reply, since her mocking grin answers for her, and so does Madame Rossi.

“Didn’t you want to be a designer, like Lila?” she asks, frowning disapprovingly.

“I-uh, yes,” Marinette stumbles, picking at the edge of her shirt. It’s a new one that she just made over the weekend, one she can’t wait to show to Alya, but by how often she picks at the seams, the dress will dissolve into thin lines of string before school even starts. She walks over to the dining table and sits down across from Madame Rossi.

“Then you should know,” Madame Rossi says, pointing her nose upwards with a raised eyebrow. It’s often like this: the morning starts out with a kinder Madame Rossi, and as the day goes on, she continues to pile disapproving stares and hidden anger on her lesser daughter: Marinette.

“Anyway, the whole program is next weekend, and I’d love for you both to come!” Madame Rossi says, clasping her anticipatingly.

“Of course Mom. I’ll definitely support you. It’s a shame that Marinette can’t come though,” Lila pouts.

Marinette’s fists both clench, her eyes widening at the prospect to miss a meeting with the famous fashion designer himself, “I-uh-”

“Marinette, is this true?” Madame Rossi asks, raising a slight eyebrow, “Why?”

“Some sort of field trip for art club, I think,” Lila cuts in, smiling sweetly at Marinette, “Right Marinette?”

Lila throws a pointed look at the girl, eyes calculatingly tracing across her face. It was another warning, far more powerful than the last, a signal that if Marinette doesn’t follow, there will be consequences.

But Marinette is tired; tired of the constant warnings, tired of the beratings, tired of the girl she doesn’t want to call her sister, tired of the woman who keeps favorites, tired of… well, everything.

“Sorry, n-no,” Marinette stutters quietly.

“What?” Lila smiles, turning to raise an eyebrow at Marinette. Lila’s aura of masked evil radiates against her, pushing, pulling, threatening, hurti-

“I’m saying no,” Marinette , hidden confidence rising to the surface like shiny, opaque bubbles. “I don’t have an art club field trip. I’m free,”

If Lila snarls, Madame Rossi doesn’t notice, instead choosing to take a sip of her coffee and dusting her hands gently on her royal-blue blouse.

“Great!” she smiles, “I’ll tell them that both of you are coming,”

Unusual silence falls onto the dining room, broken only by Madame Rossi’s quiet humming. It’s atypical in only the fact that Lila never spares a moment by not talking to her mother; she often decides to leave or escape in a different way.

The tension is thick, and every moment Madame Rossi looks away is another one that Lila uses to visually throw daggers at Marinette.

But Madame Rossi leaves before she recognizes the obvious shift of the room, pushing dishes in the sink and heading out the door with only a feeble au revoir!

“Au revoir, Mother!” Lila calls back, smoke nearly coming out of her ears as she desperately tried to keep the anger out of her voice.

Marinette’s confidence dissipates quickly as she regains her shyness and vulnerability. It’s a shame because it’s at that moment that Lila attacks.

“Listen, you filthy scum of a sister,” Lila sneers, clenching her fists. Marinette struggles to not shiver, to not show the telltale signs of fear.

It seems, however, that Lila already knows.

“If it weren’t for my amazing ability to somehow tolerate you, not to mention my mother’s strange liking of you, you’d be gone, do you understand?” Lila hurls at Marinette. Marinette, despite her will to not break, flinches.

Lila smiles cruelly. “That’s better, Mari-brat,”

She studies Marinette’s features. “Alright, fine. You can come to the whole embassy fiasco,”

With carefully timed smirk overtaking her features, Lila leans in close, inches away from Marinette. “But stay away from Adrien. He’s mine,”

Lila backs away from the table, slamming her chair into it and cracking the edges of glass. Lila’s glass mug full of coffee lands on the floor, quickly shattering into a million different pieces as the contents inside stain the carpet a less-than-beautiful shade of walnut brown.

Marinette gasps, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth afterwards, and observing the damage.

“But don’t think I’ve gone soft,” Lila grins, “I guess you’ll be the one that tells Mother about how you tragically destroyed her glass table, and her carpet!”

Marinette knows that Madame Rossi will be furious. Even if the table isn’t as tragically destroyed as Lila had said, the coffee spill is sure to anger her.

If she’s really mad, she might ground Marinette into staying at home the days that they went to the embassy, and while Lila frolicked with her idols, Marinette would be at home.

But that’s not the highlight of it all. Marinette had almost thought that Lila was finally changing for the better.

Almost.

“Well, I’m off to school!” Lila says, continuing to smirk. “Have fun cleaning up the mess you made!”

She leaves with a final look at Marinette, slamming the door behind her.

Based on the gleam in Lila’s eye, Marinette’s due for some black and blue sometime soon.

quick links: | next chapter >

a/n: next chapter should come soon! if you liked it, perhaps like this post, or reblog, or comment :) enjoy your day!

taglist:

i’ll be tagging the people that i had tagged before, along with a couple others who liked the masterlist for this series. if you don’t want to get tagged, i’m very sorry! just shoot me a private message, and i’ll take you off the tags. if you do want to get tagged, just tell me with a private message or an ask and i’ll add you to the taglist. thank you!

@reddragonofemeraldflame @nomiegnome @18markers @katbab @emmathedestroyer @bluesesameseed @cyborgcandy @karukofox21 @magnificentcrapposts @miraculouslylee

#ml #mlb #fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrien agreste #adrienette #adrinette #nino lahiffe #lila rossi #lila rossi bashing #lila exposed #lila rossi tag #marinette tag #crimson and bluebell

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thedevilsfamiliar · 3 years

Conversation

Denki, staring at Eijirou with a horrified expression: that's your plan? You're going to get me killed.

Eijirou, pretty confident despite the fact he has no brain cells at the moment: of course! We both know Bakubro HATES sharing.

Denki, closing his eyes and breathing in because this might be his last day on earth:... alright. I'll do it. You're lucky I find him cute.

Eijirou, grinning widely, feeling the chaos brewing: you're so manly, Kaminari. Go gettem!

--------

Denki, watching as Katsuki and Izuku enter the dorms, swallowing:... hey Midoriya?

Izuku, looking over and smiling as he spies Denki on the couch: yes, Kaminari-kun?

Denki, trying to not flinch at the glare being directed his way. Everyone knows to not bother Izuku when Katsuki has his attention: I... can we talk... alone?

Izuku, blinking and walking on over: sure thing! Where should we go?

Denki, thinking back on Izuku's fanboy room: uh, my room?

Katsuki, on the verge of murdering his water bottle: what.

Izuku, tilting his head and nodding: alright! Lead the way, Kaminari-kun.

Denki, shuddering and heading towards the elevator, cold sweat forming on his back:... okay *closes door* I don't know how to say this. But um... Midoriya- do you like Bakugo?

Izuku, freezing and growing flustered, denials spewing from his lips: wh-what? Me? Like K-Kacchan??? What?

Denki, staring at the obvious dork with a fond look:... does that mean that if I ask you out, I won't be denied?

Izuku, brain ceasing to function for a good moment: I- um- what.

Denki, sitting on his bed, watching the greenette: Don't get me wrong, Midoriya, I do think you're cute- and if Bakugo weren't going to murder me I'd definitely consider taking you out on a date- however. Kiri and I thought that... maybe by me asking you out and possibly hogging your time- Bakubro might snap.

Izuku, staring intently at Denki, eyebrows furrowing: snap?

Denki, nodding with a grin: snap. I don't know if you've noticed this, Midoriya, but uh... Bakugo doesn't exactly like sharing you.

Izuku, flushing almost instantly: K-Kaminari-kun! That... that is NOT true...

Denki, humming softly and leaning back on his hands:... alright. Then how about a bet to test mine and Kiri's theory.

Izuku, lowering his arms down, looking curious: and what is in it for me? besides an angry Kacchan.

Denki, lighting up: an awesome boyfriend. Even if it is temporary. Who knows, maybe I'll even get to woo you away from Bakubro.

Izuku, looking away, internally:... it... the attention wouldn't be bad... plus... I don't think their theory would hold- Kacchan... he doesn't like me like that.

Izuku, chewing on the inside of his cheek:... alright, Kaminari-kun. I accept.

Denki, blinking because he genuinely didn't expect for Izuku to go along with it: o-oh um. W-Well in that case, please. Call me Denki.

Izuku, lifting his arms up to cover his red face: c-call me Izuku!

#kamideku #bakudeku #which will be end game who knows #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Denki 100% has some sort of crush on Izuku #but he also knows that he doesn't have a chance against the childhood friend trope #Katsuki is in love with Izuku but hasn't said anything due to denial #so seeing Izuku and Denki together is going to piss him tf off #Izuku has an opportunity to experience a loving relationship #and who knows he might even choose Denki #so Katsuki get ready for god damn character development you damn tsundere #long post #denki kaminari #izuku midoriya

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shiemishuzenji · 3 years

Text

100 OC Question Meme!

created by marchenvillain <3

Your Wings edition: Shiemi Shuzenji!

1. What’s a unique skill they have? Is their any reason why they can do it? Shiemi can harness the power of the sun in order to heal wounds. Her Quirk is a mixture of her mother’s (who can bend light) and grandmother’s (who can heal wounds).

2. What are their favourite possessions? Why? (sentimentality, history, price, etc) The necklace that Hawks gave her is very important to her. She sees it like a symbol of their love.

3. Do they get jealous easily? If so, what usually causes it? She gets insecure, but she never acts on her jealousy. Often times, if women fawn over Hawks, she gets all up in her feels.

4. Are they a good gift-giver? What do they tend to give as gifts? She’s more of a practical gift giver. She pays attention to what someone really needs and she’ll get it for them.

5. What’s their reputation like? Does this reputation contrast what they’re really like? People (especially when she worked in the hospital) hail her as a good doctor but one with little to no social skills. She’s quiet, so a lot of people think she’s mean. Others, like her old boss, like her polite and respectable nature.

6. Do they prefer to have a big social circle, or a few close friends? Definitely a few close friends. She’s content with Aizawa, Kayama, and Mic.

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person? Men who are confident! If one looks at her track record, her old boyfriends in high school were all jocks who loved the limelight. Hawks is cocky, but a lot of that haughtiness is a facade. She loves that he knows how to tone it down and come back to Earth.

8. What does their dream house look like? She’s a simple woman: a modern white home with a huge lawn for a garden. She’s always wanted to plant sunflowers. I’m a huge horror fan, so for some reason, I’m envisioning the villa from The Human Centipede… Just the outside! eheh... is that weird?

9. If they could change one part of their appearance, what would it be? Shiemi is actually very lithe; her mother says she’s got no meat on her bones. She would love to bulk up! Also, her cup size is a B. She would change that, too, if she could.

10. What’s a simple thing that brings them joy? Well, Shiemi’s love language is acts of service. It really warms her heart when people help do things with or for her!

11. What is their dream pet? A cat! A fluffy white one. Maybe Aizawa had some influence on her? ❤️

12. What’s their position in their friend group? (leader, mom friend, chaos goblin, etc) The voice of reason. She likes to have practical fun! She’s not as rigid as Aizawa, but nowhere near as wild as Mic.

13. How forgiving are they? What do they consider unforgivable? Shiemi is definitely forgiving, so much so that it is sometimes her downfall. However, she believes there is no excuse for villainy.

14. Who do they go to in a crisis/emergency? Any particular reason why they choose that person? Hmmm, it’s funny because most people go to her in an emergency since she’s got that nifty healing Quirk haha! Shiemi has plenty of people to depend on like Midnight or Recovery Girl, but Hawks is the one she always turns to when she needs saving.

15. How good are they at conversation? Are they a small talk master, bad at initiating, etc? The only person she likes to make small talk with is Hawks, really. She’s not much a talker, and prefers to let others do the talking. This is why she and Aizawa click so well because they both can appreciate silence.

16. What food do they absolutely hate? She actually doesn’t care for greasy foods. Pizza, for example, upsets her tummy.

17. Do they show a lot of affection, or are they pretty reserved? She’s not into PDA, but she loves to be held and kissed. When she’s sad, she almost always needs a hug. ❤️

18. If you had to represent them with a flower, colour, and animal, what would you choose? I feel like she’s more of a white lily, which I hear symbolizes humility and devotion. Her color would be blush pink, for her more timid nature and her affinity for that color. As for an animal, I think she’d be a snowshoe hare!

19. What’s their unusual quirk? (Quirk with a lowercase q, haha) Shiemi has always had very strong intrusive thoughts, and I’ve made this obvious from the first chapter. I based this on my own struggle with intrusive thoughts, so Shiemi and I can relate on the issue of fighting our inner voices to be better people.

20. Are they easy to wake up in the morning, or grouchy and sleepy? She’s an early bird! Very easy to wake up in the morning.

21. What’s their ideal date like? She loves night walks on the beach followed a busy night of makin’ love ;)

22. What’s their silliest or most unusual fear/phobia? Probably spiders. She’s not the type to scream when she sees one, but if it’s big and hairy, she’ll leave the room.

23. Is their pain tolerance high or low? Pretty low, all things considering. She knows how to fight, she just doesn’t like to because she can’t really handle her own.

24. Are they a fussy eater? Nope! She’ll try just about anything. She understands the importance of eating healthy, so she makes sure to eat her veggies every day. (Unlike me…)

25. What are their dreams like? As the writer, I’ve always made her dreams symbolic. They often reflect her true feelings or the things on her mind.

26. Are they technologically savvy? Yes! Working in the hospital, she’s a quick learner, and working in the hospital, she’s had to learn how to use all the equipment.

27. Are they forgetful? What do they tend to forget? (plans, phone, keys, etc) No, she tries to be very organized. The most that she forgets would be if she’s got a lot of work to do, she might forget one assignment.

28. Describe their morning routine. Open the curtains first (she needs sunlight), drink black coffee, watch the news, take a shower. Suuuper adult of her, I know. She’s a creature of habit!

29. Are they a good cook? If they are, what do they like to make? She’s an okay cook. Certainly not as good as Hawks! She can make basic food, but a lot of it lacks flavor -- something Hawks has had to teach her.

30. Do they consider themselves a “hero” or “villain”? Hero! Definitely. She’ll heal anyone in need, but she works for the heroes, on the side of good.

31. What holiday do they like the most? (Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, etc) Christmas. It’s the one time of year she gets to spend with her whole family. Even though tensions are high, she still loves her family more than anything.

32. What are they like at parties? Party animal, or awkwardly sitting in the corner drinking punch and reading? She’s the wallflower. She’d rather grab a bite to eat and sit back, people-watching.

33. Are they adventurous, or do they prefer to stay in their safe zone? She prefers to live life on the safe side. Though life with Hawks definitely makes things exciting!

34. What’s their favourite drink? (Coffee, tea, juice, hot chocolate, soda, etc) She loves coffee; preferably black coffee. Her go-to drink at Starbucks is a venti black cold brew or a cappuccino.

35. Are they good with children? Yes! Her serene nature tends to calm kids down. She especially used to love healing kids at the hospital.

36. Do they trust easily? What would you have to do to earn their trust? She’s normally very wary of people. She automatically has her guard up when approached by someone new, but honestly it doesn’t take much for her to let down her guard. For example, she was cautious of Twice when she met him, but once she saw that he and Mr. Compress needed help, she immediately dropped everything to help. Blame her big heart, I guess!

37. Are they a hopeless romantic, or is that stuff just not for them? God, YES!! When she first met Hawks, she tried to act all tough, but she’s such a SAP! In her relationships, she devotes everything to her significant other.

38. Do they get lost easily, or are they good with directions? Nah, she’s great with directions. She tries to have a good understanding of her surroundings.

39. Are they superstitious? She doesn’t believe in superstitions; she’s more of a woman of science.

40. Do they like physical activity, or staying inside? She enjoys a bit of both. She especially likes to go for walks, but doesn’t mind spending the whole day inside reading a book.

41. What would they dress up as for Halloween? A zombie nurse -- and I mean that in the laziest way possible. She would put on her uniform and paint her face and call it a day haha

42. Do they like fast food, or fancy restaurants? Fancy restaurants, for sure. She’s a bit of a snob. She’ll eat fast food if she’s on the go, but she grew up in the lap of luxury, and really enjoys the finer things in life.

43. Are they a chaotic bastard, pure angel baby, or tired mom friend? Pure angel baby. SHIEMI MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS.

44. Do they have a good attention span? Yes, especially when it comes to her friends. She’ll sit there and listen to someone talk for hours.

45. Are they always late, on time, or early? Shiemi thinks that if you’re not 15 minutes early, then you’re late.

46. Do they cry, gasp, laugh, etc, while reading a book, or do they remain relatively stone-faced? Stone-faced. She might furrow her brow if she’s into it, but she’s more internal with her reactions.

47. Do they keep a diary? She stopped carrying a diary when she was a teenager and her parents read through it without her permission.

48. How dramatic are they? She’s not haha She cries easily, but that’s just because she feels very deeply.

49. Do they put a lot of effort into their appearance, or do they just make themselves presentable and go? She’s comfortable with her looks, so she mostly curls her bangs and thinks it good to go.

50. Why would they be a good partner for a road trip? She would be president of the backseat! Delivering snacks, giving directions, listening to you talk and talk for hours!

51. Why would they be a BAD partner for a road trip? She’s not much for small talk. If it gets quiet, she’ll let it happen and whip out a book.

52. What topic should nobody bring up around them, lest the other person be subject to a massive ramble/rant? Anything bashing on heroes, or criticizing hero society. She’s so deep in it that she’s blinded to its flaws. She’ll defend Heroes till the day she dies.

53. Are they clumsy? No, she’s too cautious!

54. Are they a law breaker, or stickler for rules? Stickler for the rules. Not as bad as Iida hahaha but she doesn’t do anything she’s not supposed to. Blame her strict upbringing!

55. Choose a vine you think perfectly encapsulates their character. I LOVE THIS QUESTION! I feel like she’s: “Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does >:( ” or “Is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book.” OOH, OR “How do you know what’s good for me? THAT’S MY OPINION!!”

56. Do they like to share? Yes, my girl is very giving ❤️

57. What’s the most chaotic thing they’ve done? Have sex with a bird man she just healed the night before :U Shiemi has a high sex drive

58. Which friend do they immediately become a zero-braincelled idiot around? She gets all smitten around Hawks tbh She can compose herself around everyone except for him. Then she’s just a puddle of GOO

59. Do they love or hate surprises? She does not like surprises! They make her uncomfortable and awkward.

60. What sappy thing will they cry at? (romance movies, cute cat videos, etc) Would they deny crying about it later on? She’ll cry during sad movies, but she’s stopped being ashamed of being a crybaby

61. What’s their favourite and least favourite subject in school? Health and science are her best subjects, but her favorite was literature! Her least favorite was probably physical education just because it took her away from the books!

62. Do they take a lot of photos? If so, what of? She prefers professional photos; her camera roll is practically empty!

63. Do they wear makeup? Blush, mascara, foundation, but she only ever wears makeup for special occasions.

64. Describe what their social media would be like. Instagram: “NO PHOTOS” but plenty of tagged photos from Mic and Midnight. Facebook: articles on social issues or new medical breakthroughs.

65. Do they give people a lot of nicknames? No, she doesn’t, actually!

66. What nicknames do others call them by? She thinks it’s sweet when people give nicknames to her -- e.g. “Doc,” “songbird,” or “sunshine.” Side note: I was really into Yagami Yato when I first started writing, so of course Hawks calls her “Baby bird.” And now I really regret not being more original because goddamn... I’m not gonna go back and change it because Yagami doesn’t own the nickname, but just know that I am upset

67. What’s an outrageous story about them nobody believes? Uhh, that’s a great question. I can’t think of anything, to be honest.

68. Are they easy to fluster? What would you have to do to truly fluster them? Yes! Despite being so cool, calm, and collected, it’s easy to make her blush. Hawks is a pro at getting her all worked up!

69. What’s their dream vacation like? She dreams of traveling, preferably somewhere along the Caribbean islands where she can bask in the sun and discover new plants and creatures.

70. Are they a good liar? She is a notoriously bad liar, mostly because it eats her away inside. She can make a lie work if she commits to it enough, but she’ll always come out with it eventually.

71. What do they want to do in the future? She wants a family. She’s always wanted to be a working woman and come home after a long day to her family. She wishes that a certain someone would be a stay-at-home dad...

72. How do they feel about love? Again, she’s a hopeless romantic. She believes in having strong bonds with both family and friends, but she does dedicate most of her energy into her romantic relationship.

73. Are they more book smarts, or street smarts? oh my god, BOOK SMARTS. She wouldn’t last a day on her own out there, but man she could recite a whole scene from Shakespeare if you asked her to.

74. What’s their guilty pleasure? Sex. She doesn’t come off as promiscuous, but she would get some every day if she could.

75. Is there anyone they consider their rival? No, in fact Shiemi tends to keep to herself. She’s respectful and supportive of everyone. She does have enemies, of course, like Dabi or Mr. Compress.

76. Do they have any notable physical features? Her eyes are described as gray, but they’re more purplish-gray.

77. What’s their music taste like? Classical music takes up most of the space on her phone; Joe Hisaishi is a composer that she admires a lot.

78. What’s something they’re really bad at? Keeping her opinions to herself. She’s brutally honest, to a fault.

79. Do they have a good sleep schedule? Yesss, her whole life runs on a schedule!

80. What’s their aesthetic sense like? Oh, I’m not sure how to answer this?

81. What’s something they’re really proud of? Her degrees and awards make her feel accomplished. She has a hard time seeing her worth, but the diplomas on her wall are proof, to her, of what she can do.

82. How would they spend a free day? In bed, reading a book, snuggled up beside Hawks ❤️

83. What are they like as an s/o? Lowkey, kind of clingy. She loves attention and wants to spend all her time with her significant other, doting on them, making them feel good.

84. What’s one thing they like that they don’t want anyone to know about? Her sex drive (> w >);;

85. Do they have a sweet tooth? She doesn’t; she’s more of a savory or salty person. I actually really like this dichotomy between Hawks and Shiemi, for some reason? The fact that she takes her coffee black and he takes his sweet is kind of nice.

86. How would you describe their fashion sense? I once had a beautiful professor at university who only wore maxi skirts and nice blouses. Her fashion sense inspired my vision of Shiemi a lot. If she’s not wearing her hero uniform, you can find her in a pink maxi skirt and a white blouse.

87. Do they like spicy food? She can definitely handle her spice, but she wouldn’t choose it!

88. Are they lucky? Do they believe in luck? By all means, she has the worst luck! Can’t say that she believes in it, though.

89. What would they get into a petty argument over? Shiemi stands her ground on her opinions, but she’s more or less an agreeable person. She doesn’t like to argue or cause tension, but she will if it means standing up for herself.

90. Are they a good artist? She can’t draw and she’s got that doctor handwriting lmao

91. Do they prefer hot or cold weather? Hot! Shiemi’s Quirk is most powerful if she’s in direct sunlight. When the sun is behind the clouds, it takes more energy and time for her to heal someone. Despite all that time in the sun, the poor woman can’t tan!

92. Can they play an instrument? Her parents made her play piano when she was a child, but she doesn’t dabble in it anymore.

93. What type of movies do they like to watch? Romance and mysteries! Her favorite movie is Titanic. She cries every time!

94. What does their room look like? Neat and organized. She’s got a lot of bookshelves in her room and a nice set up for her computer space.

95. How do they feel about bugs? Scared? Fascinated? She’s fascinated by bugs, but from a distance. She won’t touch ‘em!

96. What’s their sense of humour like? (Dad jokes, morbid humour, basic knock-knock jokes, stand up comedy, etc) She laughs really hard at stand up comedy. Since she’s a little more serious, she can appreciate how goofy Hawks is!

97. What do they keep in their bag? Cell phone, earbuds, portable charger, folding scissors for emergencies, Band-Aids, and if she’s not wearing it, she’ll fold up her lab coat and put it in there, too.

98. How competitive are they? She’s only competitive with herself. She doesn’t have to be the best, but she can’t stand being the worst. (I’m the same way.)

99. What would they wear to a formal event? Describe their outfit! She actually wore that beautiful red dress in chapter 10! If you Google “Elizabeth Banks Vanity Fair 2020” it’ll pop up.

100. If you, the creator, met them, would you two get along? Yes! I think that it’s impossible for any author/creator to make a character without at least adding some personal elements in them. Shiemi isn’t a self-insert, but she and I share a love of reading and we’re both overachievers. So I think she and I would make great friends!

#your wings ao3 #shiemi shuzenji #bnha oc #oc #oc questions #my hero academia oc #my hero academia #archive of our own

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twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 4 years

Text

👀😤😏 @stetervault

The moment Stiles stood up and the bandages fell off him, he realized something was wrong.

He was off balance, dramatically so, movements weighted too far forward. He stumbled, crashing into Melissa. His mind was an angry nest of confusion and fear, unaware of why he felt so unbalanced, unsure if the nogitsune was actually gone, and unsettled at the idea that his pack hadn’t known whether he was him or not.

Melissa caught him around the waist, steadying him in time to hear the gasps behind him. He twisted around to see what was going on, only to find everyone staring at his back, mouths open. He craned his neck around, looking at his back with an unimpeded view.

Unimpeded.

No feathers tickling his nose. No wing joint blocking his sightline.

Nothing.

He looked up at the others, convinced that this must be another trick of the nogitsune. Another hallucination to play with him, to bring chaos to his mind.

One by one, they stared back at him, pity in every face. Exactly as Stiles imagined his worst nightmare would go. The nogitsune took its cues from Stiles’ own mind, maybe this was all made up and taken from himself-

His eyes reached Peter. His face was unusually grim. He looked back at Stiles, no sign of a cold smirk or cutting grin anywhere. He simply looked at Stiles, serious, a hint of grief in the set of his mouth.

It was real.

Stiles screamed.

Three years later, he still thought it would have been easier to handle if the nogitsune had left scars. Something, anything as proof that his wings had once existed. Had once surrounded him, keeping him warm and lifting him from the earth, wings that looked exactly like his mother’s.

He only had pictures of either now.

But no. The skin of his back was smooth and unmarked. He’d taken to telling the people he slept with that it was a birth deformity. The lie was never discovered- after all, they would have had to stay for at least a second night to find out, and Stiles would never allow that.

Most of the time he wasn’t even around by the next morning, already on his way to the next town with the next job.

Besides, sometimes he almost believed the lie himself. He was so far divorced from his former life that it felt like someone else’s memories.

He’d found benefits to being wingless. The effort he had to make to re-learn balance had carried him into the kind of grace and stealth that could be very lucrative, when used correctly. Most attacks come from the sky, dropping in suddenly from any direction; and absolutely no one would dare to escape on the ground, where one might be so easily caught.

Unless one was Stiles.

So he took jobs, and did them under the noses of those who looked skyward, convinced that the only worthy threat could come from there.

The jobs were dubiously legal at best, but that didn’t matter. Not when any possible future law enforcement career had been stripped from him the moment he lost his wings. Instead, he used his comprehensive knowledge of the law to break it more effectively.

Not at the moment, though.

At the moment, he was having a perfectly legal cup of coffee, in a perfectly respectable Starbucks, so Seattle-generic that he wondered if his client would be able to pick it out from the other three Starbucks on the street.

He sipped the cold brew, back to the wall, no one paying enough attention to him to notice the missing wings. It was relaxing, not being noticed. Not being stared at. He slouched back further onto the wall.

He was mid-sip when the door opened again. His eyes flicked over, looking for the identifier his client had said he’d be wearing.

A red and white striped pocket square in a vest.

He also wore sunglasses and a well-tailored jacket, hair styled fairly long.

Definitely longer than the last time he’d seen him.

“God fucking damn it, Peter,” Stiles sighed.

Peter took a seat across from him, taking off his sunglasses and folding his wings behind him.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he chided, reaching out to snag the cold brew from Stiles’ hands, until Stiles stabbed him with the coffee stirrer.

“What do you fucking want?” Stiles said aggressively, no longer comforted by the wall at his back, but trapped by it.

Peter frowned at him as he picked splinters out of his hand.

“I want to hire you. Or did you not actually read the last email I sent?” He raised a judgemental eyebrow.

Stiles stared at him flatly.

“I don’t believe that you've ever had a single motivation for doing something in your life. Your plans have so many layers that they’re hidden in plain sight by pretending to be lasanga. What. Do. You. Want.”

Peter smiled brightly.

“You caught me. Dual motivation. I wanted to steal the Deschamp Bestiary, and your coffee.” He reached out again, faster this time, and managed to snatch it, taking a long sip.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose.

“In all seriousness,” Peter continued, “I want that bestiary, not only because it’s a one of a kind book worth millions, but also because it’s currently in the hands of a dangerous family. A dangerous family absolutely full of bastards.”

Stiles looked up at him.

“And you need me, specifically, to help you do that,” he said, obvious skepticism in his tone.

“I did mention that they were bastards, right?” Peter said lightly, taking another sip. “Awful bastards. With bastard tight air security. No one drops into their compound without being killed.”

Stiles sighed, clearly able to see where this was going.

“I need someone competent in ground infiltration. And you, my dear, are the most competent on the market right now.” The look he gave Stiles was heavy lidded, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation.

Stiles wasn’t sure it was entirely for the upcoming job.

He chewed on his lip, internally debating.

As a general rule, Stiles took any job that would fuck over a hunter. He had enough grudges left over from high school to make it worth it. He also generally took any job with a high enough payout.

However, he didn’t take jobs from people he’d helped murder once. In general.

“What are you even doing in Seattle?” Stiles asked, delaying his decision.

“I live here,” Peter answered, swirling the coffee a little, trying to get cream up from the bottom.

“You left Beacon Hills?” Stiles said, actually surprised.

“After you left, I hardly had anything keeping me there,” Peter sniffed delicately. “You were the only worthwhile member of that pack. Besides, McCall started getting a little too friendly with Eichen House... I could only assume that would not end well for me.”

Stiles snorted, unsurprised that Scott would work with Eichen House to get Peter put away.

“I have a pack here now-” Peter continued.

“Wait,” Stiles interrupted. “You have a pack or you’re part of a pack?”

Peter briefly flashed red eyes in response. Stiles groaned.

“Who did you kill?” he demanded. He had a vague idea of Peter killing Scott on his way out of town, and if that was what had happened, he was absolutely not taking the job. He didn’t want to touch Beacon Hills nonsense with a ten foot pole.

Peter looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“You don’t think I’m worthy of True Alpha power, Stiles?” he said, beseeching.

Stiles brandished the coffee stirrer again, face deadly serious. Peter laughed.

“Deucalion,” he finally answered, adjusting his wings until they hung more loosely over the back of his chair.

Stiles relaxed. Peter smiled in amusement.

“I’ve had nothing to do with Beacon Hills for almost as long as you have,” he said, voice quieter, more sincere. “I really, truly contacted you because you’re the best person for the plan, and my plans are always the best. The fact that I get to see you again is just a bonus.”

Stiles sat back, face impassive as he searched Peter’s.

Peter hadn’t once brought up Stiles’ non-existent wings, despite that being the reason Stiles was available for the job at all. He didn’t glance over Stiles’ shoulder, looking for the thing that wasn’t there. He looked Stiles in the face, as if that was the only place he wanted to look.

Damn it.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

#it was too good to leave alone lmao #also I don't think I've ever fully written a heist??#I kinda want to??#I might add to this 👀#angst #wingfic #featheruary #pre-steter #steter #1.5k words #again #stetervault #tumblr fic and kinda fic #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

The Interview ― a Bound by Destiny drabble

⥼ Summary ⥽

Nervous, broke, and way under-qualified, Nadya applies for a last-resort secretary job at the illustrious Raines Corp. But a cup of coffee before her interview might just change her life.

note: This piece takes place before the events of the Oblivion Bound series. It takes the events of Bloodbound 1 CH 1 and tailors them specifically to Nadya, and is referenced a handful of times throughout Bound by Destiny.

Happy Birthday Oblivion Bound! On June 29th you turned 1 year old, and I couldn’t be more excited to have so much more of this story to tell. To everyone who has joined me along the way I hope you enjoy this little piece!

check out the fake screencaps for this piece!

word count: 4,902 rating: teen+ content warnings: none find out more: HERE

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

[READ IT ON AO3]

In all the articles she read (that morning, which probably wasn’t a good way to start out even the potential of this job) there was a universal agreement that being the last person interviewed was about as bad as being the first.

But none of those stupid articles told her what to do when she finds herself stuck smack-dab in the middle.

She keeps trying to push up her glasses. There’s a half-crescent probably permanently etched into the bridge of her nose by now. Great first impression to make, honestly.

The conference room door opens and everyone tries to play it cool, tries not to look at the face of the woman who exits. They don’t want to get their hopes up. They don’t want to think three hours of waiting is for nothing.

She leaves just like all the others. The next name is called just like all the others. Four seats to her left the young man stands and adjusts his tie. Runs his tongue over his pearly teeth — and closes the pristine wooden doors behind him.

What had Lily said? Something helpful, probably. Though she’s certain now it was probably mixed in with a whole lot of nonsense. Motivational quotes, stress-relief tips that worked on everyone but the chronically anxious. But, much like how she finds herself, there’s one sliver of usefulness among the chaos.

“Caffeine. If you get the jitters just tell them you’re excited to work there! If not… well you’ll have coffee and that’s a gift on its own.”

The last candidate was interviewed for twenty-three minutes. Before her; thirty-one minutes.

So she rationalizes there’s nothing wrong with leaving her clipboard on her seat and rushing to the lobby for a quick java boost. Hadn’t there been a coffee cart right off to the side…?

It’s only fitting that the last of her freehand cash is spent here. If by some miracle she actually gets the job it’ll be something funny to reminisce on after she gets through the first year.

If she gets through the first year.

The middle of the afternoon has come and gone, now. She looks out through the glass walls of the front atrium to see the sky fading into the ombre of evening light. At this rate the interviewer won’t get to her in time, and she’s pretty darn sure this isn’t the type of place to waste a call back on something as trivial as a secretarial position.

It’s New York. Secretaries are a dime a dozen. That much is obvious.

Now comes the hard part — waiting. Trying not to tap her foot on the expensive marble floors and trying not to look back so much she messes up her hair and trying not to chew her lip so hard she walks into her interview with blood on her teeth.

“Are you alright?”

The first words said to her since she arrived; well… apart from “Complete the forms given before your interview. You will be called in by order of arrival” hammered out by the terse blonde interviewer. The first words and they’re kind and she’s definitely thrown more than a little off-kilter by the whole thing.

And coming from the custom-fit Suit she just happened to stand near, too? Well now she’s wary of flying pigs on the evening weather forecast.

It’s hard not to look at him from the ground up; to take in all of him with the money that seeps from his collar and cuffs and the way his tie pin catches the lights overhead. From the way he carries himself the Suit knows all this; he’s accustomed to it.

Only… her appreciation halts at his eyes. Dark brows just shy of knitted together and a shine in his eyes that has nothing to do with fluorescent bulbs and everything to do with… with…

It’s an impossible sensation. One she’s never felt before. Not just hard to describe but literally — she can’t. There aren’t words for a look like that. Open and honest and genuine and…

“Soy latte for Nadya.”

Is she staring? She feels like she’s staring.

The Suit laughs. It’s the shift in his expression that does it — puts her squarely back inside her own head where everything is all a hectic jumble of professional words and an itemized list of accomplishments. Yup, she was staring. If she gets this job she’ll have to rely solely on home-brewed coffee so as to never meet this man again.

“Are you Nadya?”

The burning in her cheeks is in direct contrast to her chosen blush. But Nadya has a feeling he’s the least likely person to notice that, here. The coffee cart barista on the other hand…

It’s hard to stop her hand from trembling as Nadya reaches out for her coffee. Hopefully not enough to notice, certainly not enough to spill anything, but nope nope nope about mission — the Suit noticed. The Suit noticed!

“I’m sorry,” her apology; a compulsion, “I—that was super rude of me. Oh my god, I… probably look like such a weirdo.”

“A bit,” he muses in reply. But he doesn’t seem all too bothered by it? It has the gears in her head turning backwards trying to understand.

“At the risk of sounding vain —”

“—said every vain person ever?”

“Too true; but I digress. You have nothing to be sorry for — it’s not the first time something like that has happened.” He’s on the nose there — between the polished cufflinks and his smile just the same the guy definitely sounds vain.

The first sip of her latte is always the same — tentative, just a quick taste to make sure her stomach isn’t gonna regret it later — but Mr. Vanity doesn’t look away which is a little unnerving to say the least.

“Just nerves then, I assume?”

“Wait — I’m sorry?”

If Nadya had to wonder where any sense of ‘cool and calm’ she might have had went she’s found it here, all soaked up in (probably) Italian loafers. “Just a second ago,” his hands slide into his pockets, “you looked… well I thought you were about to faint.”

Oh. “Right—yeah—nerves,” and he didn’t ask but she rambles when she’s like this so really it’s his fault for starting a conversation, “I’m actually here for a job interview. My first big gig since moving to the city, you know?”

The man nods appraisingly. “I remember the feeling well. But this office is the same as any other on Wall Street, I assure you.”

Yeah, that’s Nadya’s problem.

“I’ve never worked in a place like this. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever ever.”

“Ah,” when he nods not even a hair comes out of place, “‘Ever ever,’ that’s a pretty big deal.”

“The roof over my head literally depends on it, so…” And normally Nadya would take one look at a guy like this and say without a shadow of a doubt that he’s probably never had to worry about that sort of thing. But there’s something about him — something different than the earlier strangeness, but something nonetheless — that tells her he might just take her by surprise.

She really should be getting back to her seat.

But even with every relaxation technique in her arsenal this—right here—this is the best she’s felt about herself all day. So there’s no harm in staying an extra minute or two, right?

The man laughs unprompted and Nadya casts him a curious look. He seems almost bashful about it.

“You just reminded me of my first job, is all.”

“Let me guess — right in this very office but, hm… intern? No, you look more like the humble mail room type.”

His look turns appraising. “Do I really?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“If you have to ask that then perhaps not.” Yet their teasing is as well-meaning as it is spontaneous; enough for him to actually continue, “Actually my first job — well, first paying job that is — was a cobbler. You know, for shoes.”

Oh, Nadya knows. Yeah, in fact she has a funny story pretty similar having to do with a frazzled third-grade substitute teacher and a Bunsen burner. Since it had been, after all, a unit on Colonial America.

But that’s a level of sass they probably haven’t risen to just yet. She just nods instead.

“It was a small business, well—it was a small town. My father knew the owner and one thing led to another. I was pretty nervous on my first day too.”

He’s just trying to help, Nadya reminds herself. However strange and probably untrue his story may be, there’s no denying his sincerity. Just a successful man talking to a not-even-secretary trying to show a little empathy. Frankly Nadya isn’t sure she wouldn’t be doing the same thing were the roles reversed.

That’s just what kind people did for others. The world would be a better place if everyone was like that.

The cart barista doesn’t even get the chance to put down the drink fully when he’s reaching for it. Some people just need their java — Nadya can totally relate. But she swears the Suit winks at the girl. Though it could definitely just be a trick of the light.

Nadya’s all prepared for the “this was nice but we’ll never cross paths again” sort of goodbye when he returns.

Instead he throws her for a loop and places his cup at one of the two little silver tables that serve as the cart’s cafe. He pulls out a chair with a smile her way — is that supposed to be meant for her?

He catches onto her surprise quickly. “I hope you don’t think me too forward. I was just enjoying our chat and thought… why leave it there?”

Uhm, because you’re a man with a salary high enough to look the way you do? “Oh — I mean its… that’s really sweet of you but I should be…” she throws a look in the direction of the conference room, “getting back. Being late for the interview doesn’t seem like the best impression to make.”

The man laughs; some joke Nadya isn’t privy to. “If that’s all you’re worried about — don’t be. She actually gets a kick out of drilling people in there.”

Her resolve crumples at his hopeful smile. “And I’ll vouch for you.” Oh look she’s already sitting down.

“Well if we’re actually doing this, how about a name?” She tries to look at his cup but can’t quite catch it. If she didn’t know any better Nadya would say he actually turned it away while taking a sip.

“My name is Adrian. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nadya.”

“Same to you, Adrian.”

Nadya discovers very quickly that this isn’t just about enjoying a chat. Judging by the looks they get — though Nadya could easily be chopped liver — and the curt nods here and there, it’s obvious Adrian is pretty important. He’s just using her to play hooky.

Which only earns him points in her book.

So does the way he props his elbow on the tabletop to rest his chin on an open palm. “So I have to ask you, Nadya, if I may of course.”

“Ask away.”

“If you’ve never ever worked in a corporate setting before — why now? This isn’t the kind of job one finds in the Classifieds.”

A fair question. She laughs softly. “Is it bad if I say I don’t really know? Oh god, it probably is.”

“I wouldn’t say bad, but the hiring interviewer will probably ask something along the same lines.”

“You’ve… got a good point there. Okay,” she makes a little show of sitting up straighter and pushing her glasses all the way up until she knows there’s little red dots between her eyes; Adrian’s smile is totally worth it.

“So the salary’s good but I’m sure you know a little bit about that.”

He chuckles. “A little bit, yes.”

“And threat-of-eviction aside; I caught the listing on one of those random alumni emails from my college. You know — the ones where they make it out like they’re trying to help you succeed but they’re really used to find grads with the biggest paychecks to hound them for donations.

“It definitely wasn’t my first choice. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m pretty out of my element.” She pauses when Adrian’s brow creases just the smallest bit.

“What would you say is your element then?”

“That’s just it. I’ve got absolutely no clue. I figured I could do the basic job okay — I actually enjoy putting schedules and things together and the rest — all the business-y parts — I hoped I could just kinda pick up along the way. Do I think this is going to be my calling? No idea, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put all my effort into the work.

“But you can’t find something without trying, you know? I trust my gut and… figure I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”

Because Nadya had done herself the disservice of not trusting her gut when she first moved out here. Get a part-time job or two to pay the bills and loans, she figured, and just keep looking for that perfect one.

Yeah. That had gone over well.

Interview after interview — all with the same depressing result: the cheery false-apology letter and some variation of “we thank you for your interest but we will be continuing to pursue other candidates.”

Adrian is polite and attentive the whole time, too. Even when she gets to the unnecessary descriptions of Lily’s cheer-up dinners. Nadya knows she has a tendency to ramble when she’s nervous — but every time she apologizes he smiles and shakes his head; tells her “no apologies necessary, please go on,” and sometimes follows up with a thoughtful question or consideration that could only come from someone actually genuinely taking part in the conversation.

He’s kind. She’s surprised to find that in a place like this but he is. And before long Nadya finds herself wondering why she was ever nervous at all. Too bad he isn’t the one interviewing, she thinks, I might actually have a chance.

“That’s…” Adrian leans back in his seat with a forced exhale, “that’s quite a story.”

She knows where this always goes. “I knew it; way too much sharing. I was hoping to try and put a positive spin on it — for the position, I mean. Answering phones, scheduling meetings, that kind of stuff. I’m sor—”

“Nadya, please don’t apologize again. You don’t need to.” Then he reaches over and has a hand over hers and he’s cold, like weirdly as cold as the atrium itself, or maybe she’s just too darn flush from embarrassing herself. “Never apologize for the things that make you you. And give yourself a bit of credit, while you’re at it. I’ve lived and worked here for a long time and I’ve seen a lot of people settle for less. Even people like yourself.”

“English majors who have no business in Business?”

“People who don’t quite know what they want out of life. You’re young, Nadya —” which is rich coming from him, he can’t be more than thirty, “— you don’t have to have it all planned out right this second. You’ll miss out on too much if you try.”

Adrian’s words leave her speechless. She makes a mental note to let him know just how rare that is later on. Not just because he could be an awesome life coach but because there’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that he means every single word.

No, Adrian can’t be more than thirty. But when she fixes her glasses and looks him in the eyes he looks like he’s a hundred years old. Wistful and wanting and wise all at the same time. Nadya’s left feeling so small and so very very young when he takes his hand back.

Nadya tries to recover her composure behind the last bit of her latte but is left wanting; nothing but soy gone cold and somehow tasting of the bottom of the paper cup. He watches her thoughtfully all the while; even when she gestures to his empty cup and gets a nod in thanks when she drops them both in the nearest recycling bin.

She hasn’t even sat back down when Adrian abruptly asks; “May I see your resume?” And there’s no reason why not so she reaches down—

And remembers with absolute horror that her resume is on the clipboard. at her seat. in her spot in line. back where the interviews are.

“Son of a biscuit.” Well, there’s no use in rushing over there now. Even the cart barista has left for the evening long since arrived. Nadya looks around and takes in the practically empty lobby with a sinking pit in her stomach and a new story of failures to add to her list.

Somehow “I didn’t get the job because a really nice, sweet, very-much-employed guy made me miss my interview” probably isn’t going to go over well with the landlord.

But she isn’t the only victim — if it’s any consolation. It isn’t. Adrian looks around with a “huh,” of pleasant surprise and checks his watch. “Well Kamilah’s going to kill me,” because to him this is something worth joking about, apparently, “but what else is new.”

“I should go.” I need to go. But she just slumps a little deeper into her seat.

He looks at her sympathetic; good, he should feel bad, she wants to say but he doesn’t deserve that kind of spite. She shouldn’t have left the line.

“Could I ask just one more question before you go?”

Nadya can’t help but want to start asking her own questions. Ones like why is he asking all these questions, why does he care, does this mean she can still ask him to vouch for her; all that jazz. She doesn’t though.

“Why did you move to New York?”

From the look on his face Adrian can tell he’s caught her off guard. “I just mean — like I said, Nadya, I’ve lived here for a long time. Met all sorts of different people with all sorts of different lives and histories and reasons of their own. Sometimes I think I’ve heard just about every reason you can imagine.” But even though he tries to laugh it off he definitely meant it, and he’s definitely interested in the answer.

“And…” she splutters a bewildered laugh, “and what, you think I’ll have a new one?”

He shrugs. “Maybe not new, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be interesting.”

“It’s not some heart-wrenching story —”

“That’s okay.”

But he’s serious. It takes Nadya a minute to fully believe him but he is, and she does. Hope you didn’t get your hopes up too much.

“I was really scared when I graduated from college. School was… my whole life up until right then. And now people were expecting all these things from me and… and I’d never done any of them before. Suddenly I was facing the rest of my life and I was starting it terrified. But I still had to do it; scared or not.

“So I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to try and get all the things I was scared of out of the way then. It seems stupid now…”

“Not at all.” Nadya looks up when she realizes she’s been focused on her hands in her lap and Adrian’s looking at her like he’s breathless. It’s weird, not gonna lie a little bit of a confidence booster, but also… well, scary. In its own way.

“And I’ve got this really bad habit of being stubborn, even to myself, so I just… said go big or go home. No place I can think of bigger and scarier than New York.”

For a second she thinks he’s laughing at her for being such a terrible cliche. But… he’s not. It’s just a laugh. What else do you do when you’re happy?

“Are you still scared here?”

“Every day,” but Nadya shrugs it off; just like she has for months now, “and one day I won’t be. Dunno when, or how, but I won’t be. So I should probably stick it out until then.”

“I’d like to see that day.” You and me both.

But if he’s gonna sit there and be all charming and intellectual and weirdly invested in her personal life journey then she can too. “What about you,” Nadya asks with just a teensy bit of cheek; which has Adrian laughing again but now she’s into the joke so let her roll with it, “wait — lemme guess — all the cobbler jobs were taken so you figured a fancy tech corporation was the next best thing?”

“Actually,” somehow his one question has turned into… well into this but he’s nice and this building is nice and why not, Nadya? “That’s an interesting story. My father took me to the city when I was old enough to help with my share of the work, you see, and —”

“Adrian! Where the hell have you been all afternoon?”

Every clack of her heels is like an ice pick to the tiles — Nadya’s glad she’s not the only one who flinches at the sound. Or maybe it’s the shrillness of the voice the shoes must belong to. She knows that voice, actually—

Because her life is a living nightmare Nadya looks over Adrian’s shoulder to see the woman from the hiring interviews marching towards the pair of them; face flushed and a stack of clipboards in hand and oh god how awful would it be to ask to steal her resume back because printing them out at the library is such a chore?

Nadya shrinks in her seat and prays not to be recognized — but Adrian seems used to such outbursts. He throws Nadya a reassuring smile (which totally works, not that Scary Interviewer would give her a chance to thank him) before turning in his seat to greet her face to face.

“Nice to see you too, Nicole.”

Nicole gives a long-suffering sigh and ignores Nadya’s presence entirely. She’s totally cool with that. “That doesn’t answer my question. I finished with interviews over an hour ago — and what did I return to?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Three missed calls from Ahmanet, no signature on the Volenti files, and you still haven’t decided on which of the Red Site projects you want to endorse at next year’s conference. Which you should have decided a week ago.”

Adrian has the patience of a saint. Which comes as no surprise since he did just listen to Nadya’s ramblings for more than an hour for sure. He lets the woman get everything out of her system without even so much as a tick of the brow.

And has the dumb idea of gesturing to Nadya as a reply. “Nicole, have you met Nadya?”

She double-takes with the same concern she might give a leaf on the wind. “Miss Sayeed wants to move the meeting to her offices for the inconvenience.”

“Nadya was one of the applicants from earlier today.”

Okay — that works. Not that Nicole looks at her, now fully even in disdain, with anything remotely close to respect. She sweeps her eyes over Nadya; held frozen by the spite in her steely stare.

“I remember you. The Walk Out.”

Is it hot in here or is she losing her nerve? “Well — actually I —”

Nicole cuts her off. “You walked out, did you not?”

“I went to grab a coffee.”

“Oh, well that changes things.”

“Wait—really?” Dumb move.

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Adrian clears his throat politely for their attention. “Nicole — I’m sorry for setting your schedule back.” She nods, though it doesn’t seem much like she’s accepted the apology. “I’ll worry about Kamilah, and the other things won’t take me more than an hour. I do have one favor to ask.”

It occurs to Nadya then that Nicole, who very much wants to say no—that’s obvious, can’t. Which is just weird since she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who does favors for anyone.

“Yes, Mister Raines?”

Forget tomato red. All of the color drains out of Nadya’s face at once. And the reassuring smile Adrian tries to offer doesn’t do a darn thing.

Mister Who-Now?

“If you could go ahead and cancel tomorrow’s interviews I’d appreciate it. Tell them that particular position has been filled but they’re free to reapply for something similar under one of the division heads, maybe?”

“Why in the world would I —” If looks could kill Nicole would most certainly have sent her six feet under. “No.” Though this time Nadya has to agree. Probably the only thing they would agree on ever in the history of all time.

“No way.”

But Adrian just beams. “I just came down here to stretch my legs and grab a coffee. I had planned on sticking my head in for one or two of your interviews, Nicole, but —”

“We agreed it was best I handle filling the position, sir.” She grinds the word out but, to her credit, Nicole’s face is never less than cool and collected. “You haven’t seen her resume, you have no idea if she’s even qualified.”

“You’re half right,” he replies, “but I’m sure if she didn’t have some idea of what the secretary position requires she wouldn’t have even made it to the interviews, right? The rest of it, all that ‘business-y stuff’ I’m sure she can pick up along the way.”

Oh that’s not cool. Not cool at all. Playing Undercover Boss and then using her own words against her? Wait — why isn’t it cool? Why isn’t she jumping for joy and already trying to convince Lily not to spend money they don’t yet have on pizza?

Maybe because it feels a little underhanded? By some random luck she ends up talking with Adrian Raines, CEO of Raines Corp over coffee and suddenly she gets the job over a bunch of way more qualified people?

But this is what she wanted. It’s the job. So why…

Oh.

Nadya’s here for the interview but she knows there are people who want this job and have the experience to boot. Nadya’s trying to refuse the job she needs because that would mean something went right, and things going right never ends well.

She’s scared.

The loudness of Nicole’s departure startles Nadya out of her self-realization. She glances up and Adrian is still sitting there, albeit a little more humble than he looked just a moment ago. He has the decency to seem apologetic.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself fully.”

“Why didn’t you?” Now it’s Nadya’s turn for questions.

Adrian shrugs. “These days Nicole is the only person who’s ever really honest with me here. Imagine her trying to hold back her opinion on something.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly. But everyone else, even my own employees, they aren’t. Not entirely. I’ll admit, Nadya, when you didn’t know who I was, I saw a chance to allow myself a little sincerity. To be genuine with someone.”

Joke’s on you, she thinks wryly, I would have been this much of a mess anyway.

Still; it doesn’t sit right with her. “But don’t you realize that because you did that you weren’t sincere with me?” And how could she work for someone who wasn’t honest with her? Who didn’t allow her that basic decency?

“I do now. And I understand if that keeps you from accepting the job. I didn’t sit down with you to interview you in secret, though, please know that.” And because he knows her question before she even opens her mouth; “You were on your own, nervous, and I wanted to help — if I could. I was telling the truth when I said you reminded me of myself.

“I say that because I think, if you were in my position, maybe you would have done the same thing.”

I wouldn’t have lied, though it’s a bitter thought — and was lying by omission technically lying? Especially if it’s for everyone’s greater good?

Man her head hurts.

“Nadya…?”

She inhales with all of her might and nods. “One more question.” Which makes him smile — he appreciates the symmetry of it.

“Go ahead.”

“What made you decide to offer the job to me?”

There’s a little bit of pride in Nadya when he doesn’t have an answer right away. Adrian takes his time and really seems to mull it over — or if he’s doing it for show he’s extremely convincing.

“I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it.”

Nadya can’t not roll her eyes. She can’t not smile though, either.

Finally Adrian stands and nods towards the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby. “Should we go ahead and get the paperwork started? I can show you your desk, we’ll set up your number in the system — all quick things, really.”

It’s awfully assumptive of him, but she is standing and grabbing her purse so… is it?

“Bold of you to assume I’ve accepted the job, Mister Raines.”

“Please, call me Adrian.”

#bloodbound fanfiction #bloodbound #adrian raines #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: drabble #; my fics

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jay-ur-so-fuckin-gay · 5 years

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nate mothafuckin jacobs

ok jacob elordi really went tf O F F in that scene. holy shit bro, i was genuinely terrified while watching that whole thing play out. there was just so much internalized and repressed rage finally being let out and it honestly really made me see nate in a whole new light. now don’t get me wrong— nate is still, undeniably, a piece of human shit but witnessing that scene added so much more depth to his character and i’m HERE for it. we’ve seen his obvious anger and hatred displayed multiple times in previous episodes but none of that even began to scratch the surface of the absolute chaos and insanity brewing inside his head in the finale. not only that but we also got to see his lack of control and self destructive tendencies. just watching him repeatedly slam his body onto the ground and scream his head off was such an intense and raw moment and i loved it. jacob truly did an outstanding job portraying nate and we STAN.

#euphoria #nate jacobs #jacob elordi

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vegetacide · 5 years

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Coffee - Insomnia (TaG)

Veg-notables: Andddddd another one. This one is courtesy of Nutty cause she tossed a few lines at me.. So I ran with it. Anything below with a ** bracketing it was provided by her marvelous brain.

Likes and shares are awesome so thanks in advance. Reviews are my inspirational fuel so please feel free to drop a line.. I don’t bite ^,.,^

As per the norm.. All typos and mistakes are purely my own.

Special thanks to @gumnut-logic for the inspiration and the encouragement.

Part of the Coffee series.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo

Timeline: Post S.O.S part 2

Spoilers - VAYOR (cause these 2 give me life!)

ENJOY!!

**Kay walks up behind him with a steaming coffee in her hand**

Catching a whiff of the wonderful aroma - ‘cause the man was a bloodhound for coffee, Virgil pulled his head out of the aft VTOL access panel. The large cargo transport was nestled down close to the ground, her massive weight settled on her aviation rubbers. Not her usual pre-flight position but this way made gaining access to her innards and all his tools a hell of a lot easier and only slightly hampered her module load up sequence

**“You’re up early.” She sipped her coffee knowing what his reaction would likely be. “Anything wrong?”**

Snagging a spanner out of the rolling tool chest, Virgil shrugged a shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep” and turned back to what he was working on, swiping the back of his forearm over his brow. Kayo knew from experience how stifling the small, cramped confines could be even in the cooler environs of the hanger. The bead of sweat working its way down the curve of his spine paid testament to that fact

Even with the protective material of his coveralls pulled from his heavy shoulders, the arms tied loosely around his waist, it did little to alleviate the discomfort. Though she had to admit she did enjoy the view because at some point he’d also ditched his shirt.

She briefly lost her train of thought as the over head lighting played across the hard expanse of muscles running up his back. The sinew corded and rippled with movement while he quietly argued with whatever he was working on with such intensity.

**A slight frown, why wasn’t he sleeping? But that was quickly replaced by a fond smile as he smeared grease across his forehead. She reached out and brushed a hair off the smear. “Anything you want to talk about?”**

She watched his profile as his lips turned up slightly with the gesture, his head tilting subconsciously to follow the path of her fingers. Straightening from his task he caught her palm in his and gave it a brief squeeze. “Couldn’t shut my brain off.” The spanner was tossed haphazardly into the maw of the access hatch and it hit with a dull thump. His frustration at his work was evident in the careless action.

Pulling a rag from his pocket he wiped his hands, leaning back against the great big green beast of a craft. "You might find this surprising but occasionally I actually get up at a ‘reasonable’ hour.“ He air quoted, the flex of his biceps causing the muscles to bunch and thicken.

Kayo resisted the urge to snort, his idea of reasonable and everyone else were two vastly different concepts. “If I didn’t know you so well I would actually buy that.” She looked around at the array of tools and the scattering of miscellaneous parts that littered the usually tidy space. “You’ve been at this for hours.”

Virgil’s eyes lost their focus, seeming to stare off into the middle distance. His hands fiddling with the oil stained rag, playing with the tattered fabric as he was drawn inwards in introspection.

Kayo looked down and watched as the unsweetened brew swirled and trembled in the mug with her minute movements. The distorted reflection of Two wavering and looking back up at her from the cooling beverage like some omnipresent ghost. "I’m a light sleeper. You never came to bed last night.” She peered up at him through the loose fall of her hair and watched the series of emotions play across his tired face. The muscles in his jaw flexing as he clenched and unclenched, deep in thought and searching for the appropriate response to her statement. The length of time needed to come up with a viable answer speaking volumes of his level of exhaustion.

Drawing closer, she offered him the still warm mug. He needed it. She’d intended to use it to entice another response out of him, a playful one of teasing but this situation hadn’t been what she’d thought it was and it was obvious another approach was needed.

Initially when she’d awoken alone with the sun creeping across the cold sheets on his side of the bed, she’d thought that he had just gotten caught up in his work again. Engineering was more than just a mere job to him. It was a passion that allowed him to use his exquisitely talented mind and his creative soul for projects that aided in their every day work as emergency first responders.

She’d lost track of the amount of times she had found him asleep in random places in and around the villa. So with that thought in mind, she’d headed to the crowded kitchen, ruffling a few heads in passing, grabbed the biggest mug she could find - really the thing was a bucket in disguise, and gone in search for the dark haired Tracy.

What she’d found was definitely far from what she had expected. He was withdrawn and quiet. The usual child like gusto that simmered beneath the surface of his calm exterior when he was tinkering away was absent. This was concerning and alarm bells started ringing loudly in her internal landscape. Klaxons of piercing noise that she couldn’t ignore.

She nudged the cup at him again and he absently took it from her outstretched hand, staring into it without really seeing it as the aromatic steam drifted lazily between them.

A shoulder raised again in a shrug and he dropped the tattered remnants of the rag over the lip of the hatch before tucking his arm around his bare torso. An action of self containment that she was well versed in reading in others but was shocked to see being used by the usually self-assured man in front of her. “Lot on my mind, couldn’t put it to bed last night. So I came down here.”

“Like what?” She queried. It was like pulling teeth with him sometimes but she knew that patience was her best weapon. He would speak only when and if he wanted to do so.

He shook his head, like he was trying to brush it off. “Everything. Bramen, the Hood, Chaos Crew, Gordon…Dad..” He listed off, the last of which hung tensely in the silence. Cloying and heavy with so much more unsaid.

Kayo held her breath, not wanting to discourage him from speaking by jumping on the large, scary topic of the great Jeff Tracy. She’d danced around that subject for years with the Brothers and she knew what buttons could be pushed and which ones should be best left alone.

Virgil was always there for his younger brothers when they needed an ear to listen and a gentle reassuring guidance but when it came to himself, he played things close to the chest. Not wanting to show any sort of weakness for fear of worrying the others.

Well, she’d come against that wall enough times through why he was putting it up around her of all people was beyond her. He showed her so much of himself but for this one thing. The barricade for which he secreted this part of himself from her, sturdy and unmoving no matter how many times she attempted to surpass it.

“Virgil,” She placed a reassuring hand on his solid forearm, the flesh unyielding as he tried to clamp down on his emotions. His fist straining and clasped tight against the forced calm he was trying and failing to project. “Don’t hide from me.”

His brows flinched at being caught out on that but she knew that she had to try to probe the well built wall to get him to open up to her. The need for him to share in his burden spurring her on.

His eyes finally met hers and the raw emotions in them had her catching her breath. “What is it?”

Pushing away from his ‘bird, he put the mug down on a workbench, stalked a few steps away and stopped. Hands on hips, his gaze down cast towards the hard floor “I gave up.”

“Gave up?” Kayo let the confusion show in her voice. “I don’t understand.”

“On ever finding Dad.” The confession brought rough hands through his hair and he turned back to her with a sudden flash of anger, frustration that she knew was directed solely at himself “I’ve been lying to everyone. Being supportive. Keeping up an act for everyone, Alan..Gordon.. Scott, but I’ve been lying for a long time.”

Kayo followed him as realization dawned on her. Putting herself in front of him, a nonverbal shout of support for the man that she had years ago unwittingly fallen head over heels for. “And now Braman..” She supplied.

The retrieval of Braman had changed everything for all of them. Jeff Tracy was alive, somewhere in the vastness of space and now they were planning a rescue. Albeit it was crazy, considering the distance and the resources both physically and mentally need for such a task but they were going to attempt a rescue nonetheless.

Virgil gave a weak nod, his shoulders slumping. “I gave up. Resigned myself to the fact that he was dead, let myself grieve and started to pack it away… All this time…I shouldn’t have..Dad wouldn’t have given up on me if the roles were reversed. He would have moved heaven and earth for us.. Why couldn’t I for him? He’d be ashamed..”

“Virgil, you can’t blame yourself for this. It was a logical conclusion that all the information we had supported..”

“A Tracy never gives up…” Was his only response. It was the unofficial family motto.

Kayo’s heart ached behind her sternum. He’d never whispered a word about any of this to her. He’d been carrying this guilt around for nearly two weeks since the hidden message had been found and she’d had no clue. With just three little letter hidden amongst a sea of codes, they’d all been consumed with new found well spring of hope and an insane plan of action had been decided on.

The time since spent amidst a mad smash up of planning and research and material gathering. Schematics and supply lists. And of course there was Gordon, recovery, repairs to Four.. in all that time she’d never had the faintest clue that the fervid hope that had overtaken the island hadn’t in fact been felt by all.

Cupping his cheeks, her ran her thumbs across the dark smudges of guilt that hung doggedly below his eyes and turned his face up to hers. Her lips brushing at his smeared forehead. “Virgil, you are a good man. No matter what. This, ” She stated pointing around at their surroundings, “Is all proof of that and more. Even not knowing what had become of your father all those years ago, you still kept going. No matter the cost or the sacrifice and that makes you a good man. Your father would be proud at what you have accomplished, how many lives you’ve saved with all that you and your brothers have lost. Never doubt that.”

She paused, leaning her forehead against his. “But, you are still human.” Fallible, ambivalent. Mortal. Traits that they all carried within them, “Don’t let this tear you down.” She hoped that it wouldn’t, prayed fervently that he could and would push past it. Find the strength she knew he had and use this to fuel him to be even better than what he was. Now though, was not the time to lecture him.

She stood silent before him, her head to his own and looked across the short distance. A distance tiny in actuality but which felt vaster than she had ever felt before. This man, this loving, caring savior of others carried with him a great many weights and all she wanted, wished with everything within her was to help hold him up and ease his burdens like he did for all of them.

Regarding him with his eye held closed, he brow low she knew that her words would stir within him, churn the swirling self doubt and contempt he hid away from everyone. His body quivering slightly as he breathed in haltingly, trying desperately to once again find the safe harbour within himself.

She knew once the storm had calmed and the torrent of emotions had stilled, he would examine what she said and compare them against his own self image. Assess and reconstruct and disassemble so that he could try and bring himself back up to an even keel. It would take time and patience and her love to guide him through it but she would be there for him for as long as he needed her.

With another shaky breath, lips grazing hers own, his words fanned her hope and the sun strained to break through the clouds. “I love you.”

Softly smiling she took his stained hand, she gave a gentle tug. With her coaxing she knew that sleep for him would finally come and she lead him away from the unfinished work, the disarray of tools and parts, the mess of everything that he’d pulled out and scattered about.

With a sympathetic look and a love that emboldened, she pulled him forwards. Towards the heart of the home where she hoped sleep would find him.

The mug of coffee left forgotten and chilled on the scuffed surface as their footfalls echoed across the great, hollow expanse that was his Father’s dream.

The End.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbird #thunderbird two #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #tanusha kyrano #virgil/kayo #vayor #these two give me life #opps i did it again #i broke him

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darkspellmaster · 5 years

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Some Random thoughts on the Shitennou x Senshi story that’s been brewing in my head....

So For things I have so far in regard to the story that I’m working on : Gathering notes and plot since it’s going to have to fit into the main story...ugh why do I do this to myself.

This is what I have so far:

The bad guys in this story aren’t going after Usagi and co, but rather they are focused on Mamoru and the desire to keep the Moon princess away from him at all costs.

Said team consists of One lead, Four Generals under her, and each of them has two to three lieutenants under them. These Lieutenants each create their own monsters to go after the re born Shitennou that they need to kill so that Mamoru doesn’t have any defense against the main four Generals and the Lead bad guy.

Said Bad guy has a very gray area she’s in. Unlike Beryl this isn’t coming out of a desire to take him for herself. Rather the feelings stem from a family bond, and the desire to protect him from what she perceives as the reason why he could die (or did in reality previously). She also has a Cassandra like situation where she sees things that are coming but can’t fully comprehend them, and because of that her choices allowed her to be a pawn of an aspect of Chaos.

Her generals all seem to have a desire to serve her above all else, and they are split even as two males and two females. All four wear uniforms that denotes their position. At least one of the females has yellow ribbons in her red hair, which she keeps up in a Chun Lei like set of buns.

As a side note, I did have names for them, but the list of their names got lost, so now I’m trying to find the right types of stones or minerals for them.

What I know about the lead baddie is that she’s less of a show off than most other villains have been. More in line with Kamen Rider like baddies than strictly Sentai villains. Her views actually make sense when paired with her past and what she’s seen for the future. Up in the air right now if I’m going to allow them to be saved or outright killed off. Since they’re not out to wreck the earth or anything like that. They just want the Golden Kingdom back up and running.

At least one of the Lieutenants falls in love with Minako which brings in some dramatic results for the group later on. Not sure if he remains a foe or becomes a friend...all I have to say for him is Poor Minako.

As for the Shitennou and their history that I have going so far...

Jadeite: (Last name first, first name second)

Human name: Yasuhara Kazuhiko -also known by his stage name Oshi Kazu aka the idol NU.

What I have for his story so far:

So Kazuhiko is the most well known of the bunch. His father and mother are both actors and work for the movie studios. So, since this is being based more around Crystal’s Dark Kingdom arc, after his death in the frozen North, Kazuhiko woke up to find himself in the hospital forgetting everything that had happened to him previously with Beryl and the others. By the end of the Dream Arc, he’s gotten to the point that he’s back to normal and has been on tour, however he’s gotten sick of being a star and wants something normal. His parents as a deal agree to let him sign up for the former high school that Mamoru went to, while he agrees that, as NU, he would continue his acting and singing career.

Of course nothing is as easy as it seems, and the Bad guys (who have been tracking the boys since they’ve come to Tokyo again) have decided to make Kazuhiko the first target.

Jadeite is the only one of the boys that is pure Japanese, though his hair and eyes show that his family has had international blood in their genes.

He first meets Rei when, during a rain storm, to avoid being chased down by fan girls who were stalking him. Kazuhiko wound up in the shrine, and Rei’s grandfather allowed him to stay inside where he could be warmed up.

Rei doesn’t trust him very much.

Usagi and Minako are the second to meet him and they wind up working with him when one of the Monsters of the week attacks his high school.

Jadeite is also the first to be woken up after he puts himself in the way of danger to protect Tuxedo Mask, once he sees he’s Mamoru who’s become a friend to him.

I decided that since the girls got planets, the boys should get flowers. I’m not sure why, it just was a sort of “Yeah, this makes sense okay” moment, for their first transformation.

So Jadeite’s is a Lotus, connecting to his harmonious rank.

Also he uses ice attacks and has a frozen sword.

Jadeite can pair up with Rei for a fire/ ice attack, and there are levels that the attacks can go at as their power ups come directly from Mamoru and Usagi. He’s the first also to ask forgiveness of Usagi when his memories return, and the stone comes to him after he shows he’s willing to put his life on the line for his prince.

As with the other boys he can pair up with the different senshi and create new attacks, and do the same with the boys and Mamoru.

With Usagi he gives her heart attack a frozen boost. Minako’s chains can freeze someone in place, Paired with Makoto her flower wind becomes like mini frozen knives. Mamoru gets a frozen upgrade when he pairs up with him, allowing him to create an icy flash that can freeze people for a moment or two of time, allowing them to get away or blind them with cold.

With the other shitennou he tends to cause different results to their attacks. Kunzite’s energy blast can, and does set off an ice barrier when paired with Jadeite. Nephrite’s shadows create portals that let him throw the ice shards in different locations allowing his ice to act as a targeted attack moving where the enemy moves. With Zosite it’s an icy electric attack, or a crystal like bomb that goes off showering ice everywhere.

Not sure how he and the outer senshi work yet as pairings in regard to their powers.

He’s also the first one to come help the girls when need be and also is trying with Mamoru to figure out why he and the others are now being allowed to come back after their actions in the recent past.

Straight up, he is the first to admit having any feelings for Rei, and decides to work at the Shrine as a means of getting closer to her and gaining her trust and friendship. Also funny note, he and Nephrite later get into a selling competition over who can sell the most charms for the Shrine.

He also tries to help Minako get auditions due to his connections.

Nephrite: Gakuhara Satoshi -No relation to Kazuhiko

Story I have so far: Satoshi or Toshi for short, is from Hawaii and is North American Japanese and several other mixes -he doesn’t know what his mother’s side fully is, except that they have some Irish in there. His father’s family moved to the states pre-ww2 and they run a restaurant on the main Island. Toshi is actually in college, and came to Japan to learn more about his dad’s side of the family.

He works at a catering/restaurant business for his Uncle, and is going to college for business in running a restaurant so he can either start his own or take over his grandparents.

Toshi rides a motor cycle and is also the most open and energetic of the bunch.

After events of the Dark Kingdom, his Uncle and Aunt found him in a motor cycle crash and, as with Kazuhiko, he couldn’t remember anything that happened. He’s since started up classes again at the same college where Mamoru is studying. Though he’s a year above him. The two actually met during lunch and Nephrite connected to Mamoru right away.

He met Makoto by chance outside the local flower shop as he needed additional flowers for center pieces for an event that the family business was catering.

Earlier on Toshi actually gives advice to the girls as they are dealing with the weird goings on with Jadeite but doesn’t get involved until he’s targeted.

Jadeite is always trying to figure out if he remembers or not, and eventually Nephrite get’s targeted fully, and nearly eaten by a plant. Let’s just say the shadows that he controls don’t like it.

Unlike Jadeite he’s a bit more brutal when it comes to destroying those that would hurt him and those that he cares for. He’s also the most compassionate of the four, seeing himself as a big brother sort to the girls and even Mamoru and later the other boys.

He’s 19, unlike Jadeite who’s 17 going on 18.

The interesting thing with Makoto is while his feelings for her do come back he’s struggling with the fact that she’s younger than him, and also that there’s another guy that likes her who’s closer to her age. So he’s constantly having to check his flirting and jealous streak.

He and Jadeite can team up to create a dark ice attack using his shadows as a portal of sorts for an ice blast. When teaming up with Kunzite the shadows act as an attack around a shielded bubble or at times are used as a distraction or attack, depending on what Kunzite is doing with his energy orbs. Zosite can use the shadows as a means of carrying hidden crystals that can be flung out from them.

With Makoto, he can do an shadow and wind/electrical attack on the baddies, allowing them to be held in place while she zaps them. With Usagi it’s boosting her tiara attack or allowing her to make everything go dark if they need to escape. Rei’s fire and his shadows cause a ripple affect with the fire doubling the streght of the shadows allowing them to consume monsters that can be taken down that way. Minako is a tricky one, as it seems to give boosts to the speed of her boomerang. Mamoru has it where he, like with Jadeite, upgrades, and the shadows are part of a smoking La bomber, or give him a shadow sword that can cut through a shadow and allow him to pass through an entry that wasn’t there before.

He’s also the first to want to jump into action, which can be a bad thing at times.

Also he likes to tease Usagi about Mamo-chan and the others sometimes have to tell him to knock it off.

When he’s working his hair is pulled back into a pony tail.

Also the flower for his transformation is a Rose, for obvious reasons. (I think I picked Rose -this may change later. )

Zoisite: Real name -Haruki Jun

Story for him: Okay so Jun’s story is a bit different than the others. While his father is a Quarter Japanese, he’s mostly Swiss and lives with his Mother’s sister who is the Ambassador to Japan. Jun is extremely bright, being right up there with Ami in intelligence. Like Rei he has issues with his father and lost his mother at a young age. Un-like Rei this doesn’t stem from his father being too busy, but rather that Jun is a very anti-social person who was treated badly due to his family lineage (IE: How can you be Japanese when you look so damn white?) by his former classmates.

After the events where he was killed in the Dark Kingdom, He woke up in the hospital in Tokyo under the watchful eye of his Aunt. He was said to have gotten very sick and had a high fever.

I’m still trying to figure out if he should be in school later with the girls, or if he’d be in a more expensive school.

Jun is the youngest at age 15 going on 16, and is in the same year as the Senshi

Anyway, the first one to meet Jun is Ami and Jun get’s annoyed because she’s in his seat, or so he thinks, at a cram school that he went to with his friends.

Jun gains an obsession with Sailor Mercury after she saves him from a kidnapping by the bad guys.

He actually wants to become a fashion designer due to his mother being a costume maker for the theater, and for a while goes out of his way to stage things to make the scouts come to him so he can find out who’s Sailor Mercury.

Jun has a desire to be the most logical of the group of four, and is also the most serious.

He has a hard time with his transformation because he feels that he was the one that let Beryl back into their lives as he was the first one to get changed into his Dark Kingdom form.

Jun’s flower is the lily for transformation (don’t ask me why it’s what came up, still trying to figure if that’s the best for him.)

Like Jadeite, Zoisite pledges loyalty right away to Mamoru, though he does see Usagi as a bit of a ditz. Over time he learns to love her for who she is and respect her as his future queen.

I should note he can’t dance a lick and has two left feet.

He also gets flustered over the fact that he can look more like a girl than some girls, but is okay with doing so for missions to help the girls out. IE, he can be the bait from time to time.

He’s actually below Nephrite in leader order, but he’s the strategy guy, so Nephrite tends to defer to him.

The only person that can get him to at all react in any way other then his normally aloof self is Ami, and she doesn’t know she’s doing that to him.

Jun speaks at least 4 languages fluently. He’s also the shortest of the bunch.

When it comes to attacks he uses up to three that seem to be the main mix.

With Ami he has his electricity connect with her water, and creates a devastating steam like attack that blinds people. With Usagi he can create a force-field that is stronger with her moon power, Rei has it where the crystals channel heat around her and allow her fire attacks more power, Minako has those crystals act as a reflective nature that bounce her light attacks around if need be. Makoto gets a force field around her that grants her a higher charge for her oak lighting attack that won’t bounce back on her.

Mamoru get’s an upgrade with a mirror like attack that allows him to see and hear things from different tech devices and he can use it to get people’s attention about breaking spells and the like.

Kunzite with Zosite becomes a very strong and possibly overpowering energy attack that blocks out sight and hearing for a while when hit with it. Jadeite as I said above does the whole freeze bomb with him and Nephrite does the whole shadow thing.

Kunzite: Aikeizawa Noritaka

Story so far: Noritaka’s got a lot going on for him. His mother is from a royal family in Arabia, making him a prince. His father was a Journalist that was covering there. He actually came to Japan to teach, as he wanted to get away from his family back home. He’s the only one that is out of College and is working at Jubaan High as a Exchange Teacher/Student Teacher in History (Or Japanese Classics, or Geography -still haven’t figured that out yet).

After the situation with the Dark Kingdom, he actually woke up in his apartment in the same building as Mamoru. That’s how he gets to meet him by chance when Chibi Usa runs into him, literally, on her way to visit Mamoru.

I should note he’s the oldest of the group at age 25. He’s also got the most complex situation with the girls to date.

Unlike the others who are single, Kunzite is dating Minako and Usagi’s home room teacher and is engaged to her. This throws in a rather rough kink for Venus and him when he starts to recoginze her and his feelings come back.

Kunzite is the only one that rejects the offer to join the Shitennou and his guilt is eating at him.

His feelings of loyalty for Mamoru expand to his family (Usagi and chibi Usa).

He gets jealous of guys around Minako and has to deal with that.

Flower for Kunzite is an orchid, at least for now.

I can’t say a lot about what I’m planning with him because of the fact that it could spoil things that I want to have as surprises. Though I can say that as a teacher he’s very strict about the girls getting their work done for school even when he’s got his memory back.

Kunzite does flirt with Venus when they’re in costume, which keeps driving him back and forth about his feelings for her and his girlfriend.

His attacks with the boys as per above, Jadeite has the ice barrier attack with him. Nephrite can cause the shadows to act as a distraction or attack depending on what Kunzite needs, and overpowering energy blast that removes sight and hearing with Zosite.

Mamoru get’s a very large upgrade with Kunzite, allowing his sword to change it’s manifestation into something that can draw out the gravity of the earth and use that to hold someone down.

Usagi gets an upgrade in a similar vain, only it’s reverse and makes them float with her attack.

Minako and Kunzite have a chain attack where the orbs circle around the heart and pin the person in place while the heart hits them. Rei gains a energy blast in her fire attack, Ami has a force field around her when she’s doing some tech stuff, Makoto get’s some gravity pull on her throwing attack.

That’s what I got so far.

#senshi x shitennou #shitennou x senshi #shitennou #jadeite x rei #jadeite #kunzite #rei x jadeite #kunzite x minako #mars x jadeite #minako x kunzite #venus x kunzite #jupiter x nephrite #nephrite #nephrite x makoto #zoisite #zoisite x ami #mercury x zoisite #sailor moon #sailor moon crystal

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oysters-aint-for-me · 5 years

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1, 3, 5 ♥️

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

ugh, yes, i’ve got this story brewing in my head about a white girl who’s dating a white boy but falls in love w/ the black girl but won’t break up with the white boy and it’s like is the white girl dealing w/ internalized homphobia or racism??? or both! and the black girl isn’t even sure that she is into women herself, and she’s not entirely sure if the white girl is actually in love w/ her bc the whole thing takes place in the repressed cinematic universe...and the black girl doesn’t even know why she’s putting up w/ it. the whole thing takes place against the backdrop of the BLM protests in oakland, ca, in 2016. i don’t know how it ends but it i don’t think it’s a happy ending. i have been putting off writing this for...obvious reasons, i feel, the main one being that i’m hesitant to write about what it’s like to be black when i’m white.

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

god it’s just pure chaos tbh, i think “favorite scenes first” is generally my order, but honestly it’s like: 1. start writing favorite scene, 2. get great idea for later scene and go make a note in the outline, 3. end up writing that scene instead, 4. that scene turns out unexpectedly and changes the whole course of the story, 5. go back and rewrite scene from #1 so that it works better with the new story direction, 6. now that scene turns out unexpectedly so go make a note in the scene from #3 which is now different than the outline so you have to make an note in the scene itself, 7. end up rewriting that scene, 8. get new ideas, ad infinitum. can you believe i’ve never actually finished a work of fiction?! astonishing, i know! lmao

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

hmmmmm idk! I haven’t really...connected with a lot of characters in my original fiction in the past. i’m not sure why. i just don’t think i’ve quite developed the capacity to make characters that feel real and consistent. and other than that, all my original work is nonfiction. but in terms of fanfic (none of which is published), i actually have a surprising amount of fun writing for the waitress from always sunny, given how little she’s actually in the show. maybe it’s because there’s just enough information for me to work with but there’s a lot of blanks to fill in? idk!

thank u so much!!!

ask me about my writing!

#writing #wonderwanda

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dogopower · 3 years

Text

Satan, Prince of This World

clothes, returning from nowhere, clothed her again. Finally, Astaroth vanished, and our sister fell gently on to a chair, where, with her head thrown back, she gave up Ariel and the 329 spirits who had accompanied him. We counted 330 exhalations in all at the end of this experience.”

Pike’s claim that he was able to talk with Lemmi, his Director of Political Action located in Italy during a séance held in St. Louis, caused me to do some further digging. I knew that those conducting seances often resorted to fakery to deceive those in attendance, into believing they had supernatural powers. This research produced documentary evidence which strongly indicated that scientists belonging to Pike’s Palladian Rite had supplied him with wireless sets (radio) long before Marconi made it available for commercial purposes.

I had always wondered WHY Marconi was given such strong opposition when he tried to make his discovery available to the general public. Investigation indicates that the opposition originated with men who had been closely associated with Pike prior to his death in 1891. In the background of the opposition was Gallatin Mackay, who succeeded Pike as head of Universal Masonry and Palladism.

Documentary evidence exists which records Pike’s ability to contact and speak with the heads of his supervisory councils, regardless of where they happened to be located. He always used a code. He referred to the box he used while conducting these conversations as Arcula Mystica (The Magic Box). Obviously he and the heads of his 26 councils were connected together by wireless (radio), long before Marconi made his discoveries. There is evidence to prove that Pike’s set did pass to Gallatin Mackay after he died. Therefore it is likely Pike used wireless telegraphy during the séances he directed in St. Louis.

Pike and his supervisory directors of the W.R.M.. (Palladian councils) all used code names, as had Weishaupt and his head Illuminists before him. Pike and his supreme council in Charleston was known as “Ignis,” the code word for “Sacred Fire,” or “Divine Endeavour.” The code word for the supervisory council in Rome was “Ratio,” meaning “Reason shall triumph over superstition.” In Berlin the supervisory council’s code name was “Labour.”

It is interesting to note that the head of the Berlin Council, and the one in control of the Palladian treasury during Pike’s time, was Gerson Bleichroeder, a man who has been proven to be one of the highest and most trusted agents of the House of Rothschild. It is obvious that while Pike was High Priest of the Luciferian ideology, and thus controlled the activities of the Synagogue of Satan, the Rothschilds, through Bleichroeder, controlled the purse strings of the Palladian Rite. Thus, they, indirectly controlled Pike’s activities as they had those of Weishaupt a hundred years before.

This information proves that the present Rothschilds believe in the advice passed down to them by one of their ancestors: “Give me control of a country’s money, and I care not who makes its laws.” Another interesting fact is that both the Rothschilds and the Bleichroeders are, as Christ put it, “Them who say they are Jews, and are not, and do lie.” They are Khazars; their veins contain no more real Jewish blood than do mine. Research proves that Bleichroeder belonged to the highest degrees of the Palladian Rite and of Grand Orient Masonry, and must therefore have been a Satanist.

During Pike’s reign as “Prince of this world” under Satan’s inspiration, his directors in England were Lord Palmerston and Disraeli, who told his readers that the masses (Goyim) don’t realize that the real ‘Power’ which governs them and their country remains invisible and directs from behind the visible governments.

Although Pike is credited with having ended Jewish control of Freemasonry in America, research proves that on September 12, 1874 he signed an agreement with Armand Levi, who represented the Jewish B’nai B’rith of America, Germany, England and other countries. Under this agreement Pike gave Levi authority to organize the Jewish Freemasons in those countries into a “Secret Federation,” to be known as “The Sovereign Patriarchal Council.” Its international headquarters were setup in a big building on Valentinskamp Strasse, Hamburg, Germany. There is documentary evidence to show that the head of this “Secret Federation” collected in fees approximately $250,000 a year, which money was used mostly for payment of propaganda favourable to secularism: It is safe to say that the “Lesser Jew” doesn’t know any more about what is going on behind the scenes among those who control Judaism ATTHETOP, than do Masons up to the 33rd degree, or the vast majority of the Goyim. It is obvious, therefore, that in the final stage of the conspiracy all lesser beings will find themselves in the devil’s stewpot. We are all intended to be simmered down in the devil’s brew.27

27 In the hope of bringing order out of chaos, and united humanity in the service of God against Lucifer, I wish to point out once more that the struggle going on in this world is for the eternal possession of the souls of men. God wants us to prove that we wish to love Him and desire to serve Him voluntarily for all eternity. Lucifer is determined that his agents on this earth will take away from us our God given gifts of an intellect and freewill, so we will be unable to make this decision. Lucifer, by use of Satanism, is determined to capture out immortal souls; not because he doesn’t know that he was wrong, and that his totalitarian ideology will end in turmoil and chaos, but because he just can’t stand to see other souls happy. He is determined that as many as possible will share his eternal misery.

If the present revolutionary movement didn’t extend into the celestial world, and eternity, but was confined to this world only, there would be no sense in risking exposure, imprisonment and even premature death. If everything ends with death, as atheists would have us believe, then why put ourselves out furthering a plot or plan we will not live to see accomplished?

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webcricket · 6 years

Text

I’m Castiel

Characters: CastielXReader

Word Count: 1121

A/N: Drabble for my SPN Advent Challenge December 19 Prompt Setting - Cozy Coffee Shop. Barista reader and Castiel holiday fluff.

The bell above the door jingles merrily and you cringe. The pleasant metallic clinking causes you to completely lose count of the cash register and you toss a handful of nickels into the penny slot in frustration. It’s Christmas Eve. The coffee shop closed 15 minutes ago and you forgot to lock the door. It’s not the first time this week. You’re mentally exhausted, physically overworked, and simply looking forward to not dealing with the general shopping-crazed and overly demanding public for the next 36 hours. Not to mention escaping the holiday tunes. At least you were looking forward to the idea. You peer beyond the counter to greet the new arrival, a less than cordial scowl twisting your mouth. You want to be a Grinch. Bah humbug! you think. You’re determined despite the fact this after-hours intrusion is your own damn fault – you didn’t even manage to flip the candy-cane bedecked closed sign around.

When you look up and your focus lands on the dark-haired blue-eyed man in the trench coat admiring the whimsical holiday décor as he strides up to the counter, the customer otherwise known to you as the skinny vanilla almond milk latte and a long black to go, please – you feel nothing but relief. He’s been missing for months. Or rather, you correct the thought – you haven’t seen him for months. You see hundreds of people on a daily basis. And of the thousands of customers who walk in the door every week, you missed him specifically. Looked for him. Wondered where he went. Hoped he was okay. Of all the random people in the litany of your mind, the catalog of memorized beverage orders, this man alone stands out because in the chaos of your day each time you saw him he never once failed to acknowledge you as an individual in a job where so few people ask how you’re doing and genuinely seem to care about the answer.

“Hello, Y/N.” Blue gaze glinting, reflective of the festive white string lights hanging over the counter, a small friendly smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

You remain stone still and silent. Your eyes flit to your downturned name tag stuck to the apron thrown over the granite counter. He remembers your name. Of course he remembers your name. How do you not know his? You have a million questions for him. You want to tell him how happy you are to see him again. But you’re strangers, mere passersby in life, and so instead you gulp, awkwardly staring into that shimmering sea of blue.

Shifting weight from foot to foot ever so subtly under your mute regard, he pretends to glance up at the menu, as if he might order something different.

“I’m so sorry, we’re closed,” you stammer before he can speak. You bite the inside of your lip, internally cursing a penchant for stating the obvious when you’re nervous.

“I understand,” he responds calmly, gentle gaze settling on you.

You can see from his expression he does understand. And he isn’t annoyed. Not one bit. There’s nothing save kindness and a certain infinite quality of patience inhabiting his handsome features. “It’s just, the machines are off. And I was closing up for the night. It’s-”

“Christmas Eve,” he interrupts, nodding toward the garland, “I’m sorry to have bothered you so late. The sign-” He gestures in the direction of the door, explaining, “And the door was unlocked. And I saw you standing here. I thought perhaps-” He pauses, scruffy throat bobbing, looking down at the floor. “But you must have family and friends to get home to.”

You’re nodding, not because you have people to get home to – you have Netflix and a cat. A sort of ungrateful little semi-feral minx of a thing who is probably peeing on your floor this very moment to express her impatience in waiting to be fed. She can wait. And your Netflix queue isn’t going anywhere. You’re nodding because he’s kind to believe you do have someone waiting for you. Someone who cares. You lean across the counter, reaching to clutch at his coat sleeve as he turns to leave. “Wait!”

Confusion flashes over his face.

Releasing the tan fabric with a sheepish smile, you murmur, “Skinny vanilla almond milk latte and a long black to go, right?”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s just me and the cat,” you explain, “and she’s not much of a celebrator. I’m in no hurry.” You have no idea why you’re being so forthcoming. Hell, you’re rarely even this honest with yourself much of the time. You bend to scoop whole coffee beans into the grinder to begin brewing a fresh pot. You don’t dare glance up at him, afraid of a pitying look. “You the latte, or the long black?” you ask, making small talk as you put a new filter in the drip machine.

“Castiel,” he offers in answer. “I’m Castiel.”

Your attention lifts from the watched pot not currently boiling to his soft blue eyes. It’s the most beautiful name you can recall having heard, and it suits him in a way you can’t put into words.

“The coffee is for my friends,” he adds to fill the hush.

“What about you? On the house.” Boldness seizes you, fueled by the strong scent of espresso percolating in the air. “This thing makes a whole pot, no sense throwing it away.”

His chin tilts sideways as he contemplates your offer and studies the smile wavering on your lips. “Just black, thank you.”

“To go?” you ask, the cardboard cup and lid already in your hands in preparation.

“No, not to go,” his gravelly voice drops impossibly lower, and he hesitates, hopeful, tongue darting to wet his dry lips. “I mean, if it’s alright, maybe you would like to have a cup too. Here, with me.”

You gape. Your heart flutters wildly. A wave of heat blooms upon the flesh of your chest and neck and blossoms in a cloud of pink to color your cheeks. You believe you’ve misheard him. He has friends to get back to, surely he isn’t suggesting he might stay here and share a cup of coffee with you. On Christmas Eve, no less.

As if he can read your doubts, he clarifies, really quite sincerely, “If you don’t think your cat will mind my delaying you, of course.”

You can’t help the charmed laughter that bursts forth from your throat.

And gazing back at you – the warmth of your soul glowing against his skin like the blazing sun he awoke to after his release from the Empty – he can’t remember ever having seen anyone or anything more breathtaking in all of creation.

#CricketsSPNAdvent2017 #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel fluff #castiel reader insert #castiel x y/n #castiel christmas #spn christmas #castielxreader #castielxyou #cas x reader #cas x you #you x castiel #reader x castiel #spn x reader #spn fanfiction #castiel imagine #castiel drabble #cricket writes cas

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dailytechnologynews · 6 years

Photo

Top Ten Predictions FOR 2050

Autonomous vehicles become widespread – this should happen well before 2050 in developed countries (perhaps by 2030). The global road toll, currently over one million deaths a year, will eventually decline by 90% or more. Car ownership will continue for rise for a time (especially in poorer countries) then eventually start to decline. More efficient, autonomous, Uber-like taxis come to dominate road systems. Owning a personal car will eventually be much more expensive (especially as human drivers become increasingly hard to insure). ‘Flying’ versions (of the sort recently trialled in places like Dubai, like small electric helicopters) slowly emerge as well, albeit reserved for the very wealthy.

Other wealthy people and car enthusiasts will continue to own (regular) cars a long way into the future (like horses today). However in many countries, humans may eventually be banned/severely restricted from driving on public roads due to safety concerns (despite how unimaginable this may seem today). In the developed world at least, one of the last holdouts will be the US, as conservative politicians trumpet the rights of law-abiding car owners.

The space program takes off, but slowly – given current plans (especially by private companies like SpaceX and Blue Origin) I would give at least 50% odds we will have a man on Mars by 2030 (only 12 years away). In just the last few years SpaceX in particular has proven the feasibility of reusable rockets. Pretty much all the requisite technologies are now here and the pace will slowly pick up as costs come down.

By 2050 several countries/major companies are likely to have space stations in Earth orbit, bases on the Moon and even Mars. Like bases in Antarctica today, these will mainly serve research and tourism purposes (plus a purely geopolitical one in staking out future territory i.e. the US and China build separate bases on the moon and then each claim a hemisphere). More probes will continue to be sent to the outer solar system. The earliest human missions to Jupiter or Saturn space may be in their early stages by 2050. Early efforts to mine the resources of the asteroid belt may be under way. Space-based solar power might have become a reality around Earth (though I suspect that, like nuclear power before it, the public will be sufficiently terrified by the thought of giant space lasers that plans will be stymied even if the experts say the safety concerns are greatly exaggerated). Space elevators remain impractical.

The world successfully finds new sources of energy and copes with climatic changes – for decades many people (some of them highly educated) have predicted that something akin to ‘peak oil’ was imminent and that shortly afterward the world might plunge into a Mad Max-style dystopia. This is unlikely. Not only have the world’s oil, coal and natural gas reserves proven to be vast enough to likely last us generations, but even if all fossil fuels vanished tomorrow, the world has enough uranium to supply our energy needs for thousands of years. CO2 levels will continue to rise and with it global temperatures will continue to tick upwards. However, the industrial capacity and ingenuity of the human race rises much faster. In 2018 your odds of dying from a natural disaster are an order of magnitude less than in 1900. This trend will continue.

The world’s urban population doubles between 2010 and 2050 (from 3.5 to 7 billion). Major coastal cities eventually construct elaborate flood levees as sea levels rise maybe two or three feet by the end of the century. Even in poorer countries, better infrastructure majorly cuts down on deaths due to disease, famine, floods, storms and other disasters (in the long run earthquakes remain the most unpredictable and thus the most dangerous). The predicted ‘climate refugees’ largely fail to eventuate, though millions are always seeking to enter the first world to find higher paying work, especially as automation ramps up and ‘cheap labour’ is no longer the powerful driver of growth it once was.

Fossil fuels remain the primary source of energy in 2050. However, solar, wind, nuclear and now fusion power plants are rapidly coming on line. By 2050 several record breaking tunnels, including from Sicily-Tunisia and Korea-Japan, have been constructed. A number of buildings over 1km tall have been built, with the highest (likely built in a prestige-hungry African country) surpassing 1.5km.

Major confrontations between the US and China over Taiwan and the South China Sea – there will almost certainly be at least one more (and possibly several) sequels to the 1st, 2nd and 3rd ‘Taiwan Strait Crises’. This could take many forms. It might start with a Chinese blockade of the island, or an attempt to seize another, more minor Taiwanese asset (Taiping Island in the Spratlys stands out for instance, or possibly Kinmen and Matsu closer to the mainland). One such scenario is depicted here

Hard to be specific but I would predict better than 50% odds you will see Chinese and US warships shooting at each other at some point. However, I also think the odds are very low it will escalate into WW3. As both sides have nuclear-tipped ICBMs and the American and Chinese homelands are sufficiently far apart battles are likely to be confined to sea, air and fairly remote islands (though space and cyberspace are also likely). Other countries like Japan and Australia could easily get involved.

Hostilities may last for years but the eventual death toll will probably be in the thousands rather than the millions. More dire scenarios see a physical Chinese land invasion of Taiwan (though it is hard to see this succeeding) or a major escalation whereby one side tries to shoot down the other’s satellites, causing a chain reaction that destroys more or less everything in LEO. This, or a China-US trade embargo (10X worse than the current ‘trade war’) plus a prolonged shutdown of seagoing trade in the S. China Sea would cause severe economic disruption. However, again, probably no nukes and no WW3. My ultimate guess is that the US Navy prevails and in 2050 Taipei is still independent of Beijing (indeed – probably openly so).

Global politics will realign as demographic change and economic growth sees the rise of certain countries – in broad strokes this is fairly obvious, but we can take a stab at a few specifics. Despite earlier fears of runaway growth the global population is expected to increase from today’s 7.5 billion to maybe 10 billion in 2050 and thereafter stabilize. Also, despite much misinformation and fear-mongering the world today is much richer and healthier today than ever before.

The existing western world will maintain its dominance for some time yet. The United States in particular is projected to have healthy population growth well into the future. The US population should be around 400 million by 2050 (albeit increasingly diverse) and still third in the world (though Nigeria might overtake them towards the end of this century).

China since 1980 is the obvious model for other poor countries (though worth noting their streak of ‘10% annual GDP growth’ burned out in 2010, they have averaged 6-7% since). India’s economy is now growing faster than China’s and its population will overtake theirs by 2025 but it is starting from a much lower base. Despite many predictions, I suspect the US will remain no.1 in GDP at least until 2030 and will still be 1st or 2nd in 2050 (with China the only real competitor).

A complete implosion of China is possible. This could be caused by an economic crisis or a failed military venture abroad which destroys the legitimacy of the communist party and sparks a revolution calling for democratic and other reforms. Perhaps in tandem with this, North Korea implodes and is reunified with South Korea (this is unlikely to occur without a major change in China first, given their status as essentially a buffer state with the US-backed south).

One possible state that stands out as a future superpower is the ‘East African Federation’, an intended evolution of the existing ‘East African Community’ that now includes Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Burundi, Rwanda and South Sudan. At present these states are very poor, with a combined GDP smaller than New Zealand. However, they are now growing at 6% a year. Linked by Swahili as a common lingua franca they are expected to have a population of 410 million by 2050 and 800 million by 2100 – not far behind India and China. If their political integration succeeds and their economic growth continues, the EAF could emerge as a major world power by mid-century.

Population declines and changing resource markets will cause the decline of other countries - on the flip side to the above, countries like Japan and Russia have a bleak demographic outlook. Russia in particular with anaemic economic growth and a growing Muslim minority may face substantial internal instability. The decline of oil (either due to the spread of new technologies or simply a global shortage) will also contribute. The country could even collapse entirely as depicted here

Individual European states face demographic and (relative) economic decline. However if the European Union survives as an institution (I would give better than 50% odds) its combined population of 450 million (even without the UK) and historical economic strength should help it remain a major world power well into the century. The anglosphere countries will continue to benefit from the rise of English to the global lingua franca.

In 2050 I suspect the Middle East, as in 2018 or indeed 1950, will continue to be something of a war-torn shithole. The brewing cold war between Sunni-Saudi Arabia and Shia-Iran is just beginning. Both could eventually get nukes (and then things get real interesting). The decline of oil, increasing calls for democracy/secularism/modernisation and ongoing ethnic tensions will all ensure continued chaos. An independent Kurdistan is likely to become a reality eventually. Turkey, now resurgent and by far the strongest country in the region, could take advantage of the weaknesses of the Arab states to advance south into its historical realm of influence (the entire region having been controlled by them until 1918).

On the whole Africa’s economic outlook is now improving and its demographics indicate that 40% of the world will be African by 2100. However, they still have a long way to go. Major wars, revolutions, epidemics and other disasters are likely to strike numerous times before then as they have in the previous 60 years since the withdrawal of the European colonial powers. I suspect in the next decade or two racial tensions in South Africa will also come to a head and the white minority will be forced to flee the country, i.e. Rhodesia in the 1980s.

Neural implants evolve from today’s smartphones – As we went from room-sized computers to PCs to laptops to smartphones (and maybe smartwatches and smartglasses as well) the ultimate result will be unobtrusive brain-computer interfaces that will quickly become universal (if not exactly mandatory – but trying staying employed without one). As with past computer technologies, the earliest adopters (from maybe the late 2020s) will be tech enthusiasts, time-pressed businessmen, and the young. Over another decade or so they will spread to the rest of the population in developed countries (with some inevitable holdouts, generally the elderly with little appetite to embrace more technologies and those with religious or other objections). Poorer countries (though now catching up) will be another decade or two behind. However, even in darkest Africa neural implants will probably be arriving by 2050 or so, as electricity and the internet already are today.

So what is a neural implant? Think of a smartphone but one that bypasses your ‘traditional’ senses. Rather than looking at a screen or listening via speakers, information will be beamed directly into your neocortex. Images/text/sounds and possibly other sensations will simply appear in your vision/hearing. This would apply to everything. When you walk down a shopping strip advertisements will flash up in your vision. When you want to communicate with someone, text/audio/video messages can be wordlessly exchanged via a little box popping up in the corner of your field of view. You can browse the global internet, check the weather, etc simply via thought commands. You can set a morning alarm that will wake up nobody but you! It’s at least as big a revolution in our lives as everything internet-related since 1990.

Of course, all this would come with staggering privacy concerns (i.e. the government or someone else being able to hack into your very nervous system and observe what you sense/observe – or perhaps even being able to ‘take control’ themselves depending on the nature of the implant). However, society finds ways to deal with these concerns, as we already have carrying smartphones around in our pockets. Expect to see a few neural-implant-Edward-Snowdens.

Major enhancements to the human body, either through gene therapy or surgery, start to become possible – neural implants are one thing, but just one element of our shift into what are essentially cyborgs. Artificial organs are already on the horizon. Designer babies are well on the way. Genetic doping in sports is probably already around. Genetically modified crops are already decades old.

Want to guarantee your kids will grow to be at least six foot? Have perfect vision and teeth? Such gene therapy will eventually not only be permitted, but calls will abound to make it free and universal (like education or healthcare today). On the plus side, our children and grandchildren will increasingly be free of the heavy burdens of genetic disease. On the other hand, if everyone’s kid has a perfect smile and can learn to play the violin with ease – how else does one stand out? Major social problems typical of a ‘modern’ society, such as obesity and drug abuse, will finally start to reverse after decades.

Of course, inequality will be a problem. Just as it is the world’s wealthy offspring who have access to braces or laser eye surgery today, the poor will have to do with their ‘natural’ bodies until such breakthroughs spread. A heart attack will prove fatal to an old man in Africa. In Europe it may mean the installation of a new heart and another decade of life. However, this is just the beginning.

Anti-aging efforts start to bear fruit – this one has many question marks attached, but I would expect that substantial progress will eventually be made. Global life expectancy is now 72 years, up from 67 in the year 2000 or 48 in 1950. Most of this has been as the ‘low-hanging fruit’ of vaccines, improved sanitation and nutrition and other changes have finally spread to the third world.

Modern medicine tells us the human body is an immensely complicated machine. Slicing and dicing our DNA is still proving immensely hard. Nonetheless, aging doesn’t seem to be an immutable law (like breaking the light barrier or time travel or anything). Once our understanding of the human body is sufficiently advanced, reversing every aspect of the aging process seems very possible. Maybe I’m falling into the usual trap of hoping for such developments before I get old (I will be nearing 60 in 2050) but I suspect we might finally be getting close. However, for a task of this magnitude, we might have to wait for the next step – the breakthrough to end all breakthroughs.

The singularity – this is the biggest question mark of all. While I feel the world until 2050 is relatively foreseeable (barring a nuclear war, solar flare, etc) the rise of superintelligent AIs is an event so overwhelming as to put all other predictions in doubt. Even if Moore’s law slows it is unlikely to stop, and current trends put the capabilities of silicon computers well ahead of anything our puny human brains can do by mid-century.

Suffice it to say I think the worst predictions about the singularity are unlikely to come to pass. Most apocalyptic scenarios about an AI taking over the world see a massive divide between that AI and the puny humans of 2018 (or earlier). By 2050 many humans will already be well on their way to becoming cyborgs. AIs of all shades will have been developed, doing everything from playing chess matches to playing the stock market. The gap between a ‘superintelligent’ AI and the rest of the world won’t be nearly as great, decreasing the odds that a single rogue entity will be able to hold the rest of the world hostage to its pre-programmed whims.

Nonetheless, the proliferation of superintelligence will strain every institution of our modern world. Major, apparently unassailable concepts like democracy and capitalism and the superiority of human life will come under question. Why bother with the cumbersome nature of a democratic legislature or the chaos of a free market, if a perfect AI can make better decisions? Why respect the world’s existing governments, if all their armies and weapons have suddenly been made obsolete by some godlike alliance of AIs? Why even bother with the ‘real’ world at all, if you can transfer your brain patterns to a hard drive smaller than your thumb and inhabit whatever virtual reality you please? In a world where humans as we’ve known them for the past 100,000 years have suddenly become obsolete, whatever will our silicon offspring do next?

#Futurology #Technology #Tech #Studies #Humanity #Development #New #Gadgets

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ebullientbun · 7 years

Text

The Suspense is Killing Me

Starring: Jimin x You (ft. Taehyung)

Rated: G for gently crack and a little sads sometimes

Word Count: 8.1K

Summary: park jimin is a trusted superhero who constantly saves the day, but can he save them from you, his newest rival and beloved wife

Cameras are flashing left and right, blinding him. There are way too many microphones in front of his face, but he smiles anyways, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and brushes a hand through his jet black hair. They don’t need to know he wears the sunglasses so he doesn’t look like he’s squinting in the PR photos.

“Park Jimin, over here!”

“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”

“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”

Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.

“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”

Jimin gulped, cursing himself for his bad luck. “It was unexpected, but that’s not to say I’m unprepared for these recent turn of events,” he responded, clearing his throat. “I assure the public that their safety is still intact and that the danger is not as bad as V, who is locked up in the highest security prison institution.”

The crowd murmurs louder before resuming in calling his name. Jimin has half his mind to leave the press conference until a lone voice shouts from the crowd, silencing them. “Then why haven’t you killed or caught the villain if they’re so easy? Why haven’t you caught the Suspense?”

Jimin drops his head and takes a deep breath. He knows that he should probably say that he’s investigating the villain’s true intentions and hidden secrets or some other bullshit excuse, but the truth slips out of his mouth before he can process what he’s said, and instantly, he feels regret. The crowd bursts into a loud commotion, and Jimin is quickly escorted out of the place, halting any further questions.

“Because she’s my wife.”

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filtered through the apartment, the noise of the television idly playing in the background. You’re humming, moving clean clothes from the drying machine to your laundry basket. Kicking the machine door closed, you heft the basket into your arms and plop down onto the couch in the living room, dropping the basket in front of you. You grab the remote on the table next to you and turn up the volume, engrossed in the video replay of your husband, Park Jimin, fighting his ultimate rival. You start folding your laundry, glancing up every now and then, wincing when some of the attacks hit Jimin.

“This just in!” You paused your movements, giving the television your undivided attention as a new anchor bounced up and down on screen, the wind from outside covering her face with her own hair. “Mr. Park has captured V!”

You smile, internally planning to buy a celebration cake for your husband before he comes home, maybe buying some balloons just for the heck of it. It had been a cat and mouse game for several years, and now your husband caught his unruly foe.

The video panned to V being escorted into the police car, the mask on his face battered and bloody. A microphone shoved in front of him.

“V the Violent! What’s your remark on being captured?”

V grunted before leaning into the microphone, “Excuse you, it’s V the Voluptuous for my voluminous hair. This is only a small setback. But it will not be the last you see of me… isn’t that right, my spectacular protege, Suspense?”

The reporters clamor at his comment as he’s forcibly shoved into the police car. The shirt in your hands fall to your lap.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jimin declares, slamming the door open only to be met with silence. “Y/N?” He slides off his shoes and shuts the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and grabbed the remote left on the floor beside an unfinished pile of laundry to turn off the television. An uneasy feeling fell into the pit of his stomach as he ventured further into the apartment. He stepped in the kitchen and noted the coffee left cold and untouched in the coffee pot. His breathing turned heavy as he rushed into the bedroom to nothing; the room was unchanged and empty.

Maybe… maybe you just ran to the grocery store and he’s just overreacting. Yes, that had to be it. He reached into in pocket and dialed your phone number. Jimin froze in his spot, hearing the familiar ringtone faintly jingle in the bedroom, buzzing against the bedside table.

He ended the phone call and speed dialed the one person who can find his wife. The line rang once, twice, and then he heard the familiar grumble of ‘hello?’ and rustling in the background.

“Namjoon, can you please find Y/N’s location? She’s not at the apartment but she left her phone at home.”

Typing flooded the other end, Jimin tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited for an answer.

“Alright, so I’ve got footage of her leaving her apartment; she doesn’t look distressed or anything, maybe a little zoned out. Lemme look at the other building cameras to track her location. She’s exiting the apartment… and she walked into the hardware store down the street. Jimin, have you just tried, oh, I don’t know, calling her?”

“She left her phone at home. But she also left the television on and didn’t even finish her laundry.” Jimin nursed his bottom lip with his teeth, not knowing what to make of what she’s doing.

“Maybe she forgot to buy something?” Namjoon suggested.

“No, no,” Jimin insisted. “There’s nothing that she needs there that we don’t already have at home. Where did she go after that?”

“Uh, hold on... Okay, I’ve sped up the cameras as fast as I can, but she hasn’t left the building…”

“And when was she last seen entering the store?”

Namjoon hesitated, “it’s been a couple of hours. Maybe she’s just looking at the gardening displays again. You know how she takes her time looking at those.”

“I don’t know,” Jimin paced back and forth in the living room, “something just doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t normally forget her phone, she gets paranoid about tha-” his phone buzzed with an oncoming work call, “hold on, I’ll call you back. I’ve got a call.”

“Gotcha, Jimin. I’ll let you know if I see anything else.”

Jimin switched the line to the police department, “This is Jimin.”

“Jimin! We need you to come to the city plaza quick! We’re having a civilian attack by someone unknown!” He could hear the chaos of people panicking in the background.

“I’m on the way,” he promptly ended the call, rushing to get his gear and weaponry.

Jimin flew into city plaza, having no need to search for the damage when there’s a large machine monster plowing through the square, shooting bursts of water at civilians running away to shelter. The robot stood at least 4 stories high, a voice emitting from a speaker on it shoulder.

“IS EVERYONE HAVING A NICE SPLASH ON THIS GOOD SUMMER’S DAY?” The voice boomed, soaking the streets, the force of the blasted water flipping a car over.

“Whoever you are, stop what you’re doing right this moment!” Jimin commanded, floating eye level with the robot’s head. The robot lifted an arm to activate a laser beam, shooting around and slicing the statue of the mayor in half.

Jimin pulled out his sword, made of the strongest metals, and raised it to challenge the robot.

The head of the robot split in half, revealing a familiar female with yellow goggles and a purple bodysuit.

“Y/N?” Jimin stops in place and puts down his sword. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He shrieked and dodged a laser attack from her. A laser gun; this is something he’s still trying to process. “Whoa there, stop, baby! Put your weapon down! Why are you attacking me? You need to get out of here, there’s a new villain on the streets.”

“You are truly an idiot, Park Jimin. The villain is me. I go by the name of the Suspense. And no one will be standing in the way of my terror.”

“What?”

“Was it not obvious by the fact I’m shooting water at the citizens and destroying the gardens?” You fiddled with the controls, still trying to learn its functions, closing the head and using the other arm to reach for Jimin.

Namjoon yelled in the bluetooth of his ear, “Jimin watch out! Arm coming on your left!”

Jimin used his sword to block off the massive arm coming his way and flew straight for the juncture of the robot’s arm and shoulder. With all of his strength, he jabbed his sword downwards and dismembered the arm.

“Get one of the legs, too. Throw the robot off balance,” Namjoon instructed. He flew down to the leg of the robot, dismembering one of the legs with much more difficulty. The legs were more reinforced, and he had to saw his sword across as the laser robot arm attempted to reach him.

The robot, losing its balance, toppled into a broken heap in the ground. Jimin heard you shout into the microphone.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, flying down to the head where you sat. Just before he could open the robot, the head automatically detached itself and flew into the sky, shocking Jimin.

“You may have defeated me this time,” the voice boomed, followed by a brief cough, “but this won’t be the last you see of me! Until next time superhero!” The robot head flew at lightning speed away, so fast that he couldn’t catch up quick enough after his immediate shock, but as he flew in the same direction, any semblance of where you went disappeared.

“Did you see where she went?” Jimin asked, patiently waiting for an answer through his bluetooth.

“None,” Namjoon sighed, “all the cameras were turned off for some reason for the past few hours. I think it may have been her doing.”

“My wife is my enemy,” Jimin stated, disbelief coursing through him.

Jimin stands in front of the pristine white door in front of him, awaiting permission to enter. His fists are tightly clenched by his side, and his eyes scream murder. The guard next to him warns him to not kill or heavily maim the inmate he so desperately wanted to tear apart. With a noncommittal grunt to the guard, Jimin’s eyes focus in on the figure sitting in the middle of the room after the doors slide open, and he charges in.

“V!” Jimin yanks the prisoner up from his seat by the collar and spits in his face as he growls. “What have you done to my wife?”

“Aww, is that any way to greet an old buddy? It hasn’t even been what, ten hours since we’ve last seen each other right? You must really miss my company,” V coos.

Jimin scowls at the playful smirk that V shoots at him before shoving him back onto the chair. “What is your motive? What do you want from me?”

V struggles for a short while to get back properly in his chair, settling his triple handcuffed hands on the table in front of them. “Now, now. You can’t barge in here expecting answers to questions I don’t want to answer,” V smiles, idly scratching his fingers along the surface of the table. “Have a seat, Jimin. It’s been awhile since I’ve sat across from you, yeah? I don’t get to look at you properly, those news photos don’t seem to do you justice. You’ve gotten handsomer. Tired, but handsomer.”

“Cut the crap, V. Why is my wife acting like this?”

V sighs, “Don’t call me by that name. We know each other more personally than that, call me what you used to, Jiminie!”

Jimin clenches his jaw, and reiterates, “Taehyung, why is my wife taking your place in terrorizing this city?”

Taehyung frowns, “That’s not the nickname. I used to be Tae-tae. But you can correct that later, I suppose.” He rattles the handcuffs restricting him briefly, before continuing, “Your dearly beloved is acting as such because I hypnotized her. In the event that she hears me call for ‘the Suspense’, she will fulfill my place as the resident evil in my absence.”

Jimin slams a hand on the table. “How dare you lay a hand on my wife, you bastard! When did you meet my wife and how?”

Taehyung flinches before bitterly smiling. “Incredible. You’ve never been mad at me before, even when I stole all the money from the main city bank. Girls can really change a man, can’t they?” He chuckles, but they slowly die off when Jimin remained glaring at him. “Okay, well, it was quite easy, you see-”

It had happened a few months prior, when Taehyung was becoming a little bored with his everyday routine. Sure, it was all fun and games toying around with the city’s superhero every week, but he needed a little bit of spice to his shenanigans. He was scrolling through his phone, ready to play his favorite game, Cooking Mama 3, before the thought spawned upon him. If he’s getting bored with his life, what if that means that Jimin is getting bored of him as well? No, no, no. That wouldn’t do. He can’t have that.

Taehyung closed his eyes, thinking of what he could possibly do to keep Jimin focused and dedicated to fighting him. He was about to doze off in his reclining chair before shooting up out of his seat.

Oh yes. The best idea he’s had yet.

And it involved Jimin’s precious wife.

He followed you from your workplace one day, noticing how you frequently visited this one pastry cafe. The next day, he made sure to be there just after you entered, and he ordered the quickest thing that he could get - a coffee. As soon as he got his order, he headed towards you, sitting alone at the table waiting for your pastry to arrive.

“Um, excuse me,” Taehyung started, waiting for you to look up from your phone. “Hi, uh, I was wondering if I could have a seat here? All the tables are full and I just wanted a place to settle down and enjoy my cup of joe.” He made a point to look around to indicate that yes, the cafe was packed of customers who equally just got off of work.

“Yeah, no problem,” you smiled. You settled back in your chair to allow him more room to place his coffee on the table. Your analyzing stare at the new stranger lingers a little too long on his sharp features that couldn’t stay hidden under his red rimmed glasses.

“Thanks!” Taehyung gingerly placed his coffee on the table, tugging at the collar of his wool sweater, which he wore to look especially harmless. “What brings you over here? I feel like I come here often but I don’t see you around.”

“Sometimes I like to grab a snack on the way home, and this place has absolutely the most delicious scones I’ve ever tasted.” You placed your phone on the table, giving him your attention. “I don’t think I’ve seen you either, but then again, I normally just go in and out. I think they’re making a new batch of pastries right now, which is why it’s taking so long.”

“That’s even better though, right? Fresh pastry tastes better than the ones from the morning.”

You giggle, “yeah, it does. I guess I felt a little antsy because it’s so crowded in here.”

Taehyung chuckled along, trying his best not to sound forced. “I know, I wonder what all the commotion is. Had I known, I probably would have had my coffee elsewhere.”

“Do you normally have coffee in the afternoon? It’s a bit late for you to drink caffeine, isn’t it?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened a bit, mind reeling blank before he regained his composure. “For some, yeah, but I just need my regular fix that helps me stay awake the rest of the day.” He reached for some sugar packets and began pouring some into his coffee. “My name’s Jack by the way, and you are…”

“Oh, I’m so rude! Sorry, my name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jack…”

“...Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels?” You laughed. “That’s so funny has anyone ever-”

“Yeah, I get it all the time,” Taehyung monotonously interrupted, figuring it was time for Evil Plan #537 to commence. He began to scratch his index finger back and forth on the table, seemly doing it unconsciously. “You know, drinking coffee here makes me feel so... relaxed. Even though it’s so crowded in here.”

You stare at his finger for a brief moment before turning your head to face him. “Really? Most people tell me that it makes them jittery.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, keeping a steady pace of his fingers and maintaining the pace of his words slow and soft, “yeah. It makes me a little dazed. A little tired. I guess that’s what happens when you drink it in such a calm atmosphere. But I love the coffee here, it’s so nice. So warm.”

“I didn’t know their coffee would taste that great quite honestly…” your sentence drifts off, you mind tuned to the constant rhythm of his fingers gliding back and forth on the table, the sharp sliding sounds distracting you. At last, your eyes linger onto his fingers, your pupils dilating.

“I really enjoy it, especially in your company.” Taehyung’s voice drops to a mere whisper. “Sometimes, when I drink it alone, my eyes get all droopy… and it gets a little hard to breathe. I need to take long, big inhales whenever I drink this coffee.”

Your breath comes slower, and you don’t even realize that you’re mimicking the way he’s breathing.

“I feel like I can do anything when I’m in your company, you’re pleasant to be around. Do you think I’m a pleasant company, too?”

You hummed, but by then, your mind is zoned out.

When he’s sure that he’s got her mind entranced, he lowly says, “your company is so nice, I would be always willing to help you. And of course, you would like to help me too.”

You didn’t give any response, you simply continued to stare at his fingers. “Nod once if you will do exactly as I say.” Taehyung observed you ever so slightly nod your head, and grinned. “Perfect.” He reached over and turned off your cell phone on the table.

He continued, “When you hear me say the phrase, ‘isn’t that right, my spectacular protege, Suspense’, you will assume my position as villain and carry out my evil tasks to the city. You will not stop for anyone or adhere to whatever anyone says, not even your husband. You will do so until you hear this one word…” Taehyung leans in to whisper it into your ear. “Nod once if you understand.”

You nodded.

“Here are your instructions for when you assume my position, and you must follow them carefully…”

Taehyung spent the next two hours divulging the plans he wished for you to fulfill and in what order. He let you know where his headquarters were for you to prepare your evil deeds and other than allowing the public to know about how you were his successor - but, you couldn’t provide any more information. “When I say the word unicycle, you will snap out of your trance. You will awaken yourself back into the nice, dainty cafe we’re having a nice conversation in. Unicycle.”

You blinked your eyes, shaking your head before refocusing your vision to the man in front of you, who was rambling about something.

“...in conclusion, I honest to god think that unicycles are the most underrated mode of transportation.”

“What?” you mumbled. There was a gap in your memory, and you couldn’t remember what you last spoke to Jack about. You nursed your hand to the back of your head, feeling an oncoming headache.

“Anyways, it has surely been a pleasure meeting you, and I hope to see you again in the near future.” Taehyung stood from his seat and gently bowed his head before leaving the cafe.

Confused of what just happened, you stared blankly at the pastry that was set in front of you - wait when did that happen - and the cup of coffee left untouched where the stranger previously sat.

“You piece of shit,” Jimin muttered, his gaze unwavering cold to Taehyung, who is the slightest unaffected.

“Wow, you’re starting to sound like my parents. You’ve got the wording and the looks on point,” Taehyung comments, a quirk of his eyebrow has Jimin reeling.

“What was the word.” It wasn’t a question, no, Jimin was commanding.

“I’ve answered too much for my liking,” Taehyung pouted. “Darn me and my oversharing mouth. Be careful, Jiminie. Be nice or you won’t go anywhere. But, as a small parting gift for you paying me a friendly visit, I’ll reciprocate your affections with a hint.”

Taehyung gestures for Jimin to lean in closer. Jimin reluctantly adheres, and Taehyung whispers hotly into Jimin’s ear, “It’s a totally random and nonrandom word.”

“Fuck you, Taehyung,” Jimin growls, and pushes the fiend away from him.

“Toodle-loo, best friend!” Taehyung hollers as Jimin storms out of the room.

“Carrot! Asparagus! Celery! Broccoli!” Jimin exclaimed, reiterating Namjoon’s voice in his bluetooth and struggling to hear the list Namjoon is screaming in his ear. Well, it’s a little hard when you’re chasing him from behind with thousands of knives loaded on the waistband of your pants (and how did you not hurt yourself wearing that contraption).

“Today’s soup of the day is vegetables ladies and gentlemen! Tuesday’s theme was furniture, what will next week’s be?” You hollered, maniacally laughing when Jimin almost trips on a fallen chair.

“C’mon, honey. Put down those knives and just come home,” Jimin pleaded, dodging his head as another knife whizzed by. “That wasn’t nice,” he pouted.

“Sorry sweet cheeks, I’m eliminate anyone who stands in my way. Stop trying, this is the 7th day already.” You threw a knife dangerously close to his head, and cackled at the sound of his terrified shriek of surprise. It was comically hilarious and gratifying. “I guess you could say the Suspense is killing you, huh?”

“Good God,” Jimin muttered in exasperation. He understood why Taehyung named you as such, that cheeky, punny, son of a gun. “When did you become so skilled at throwing sharp objects?”

You reached behind you, latching your fingers on the last two knives you had hidden away. Damn, you needed more, and quick. “I’ve always had great accuracy. You’re just too full of yourself to notice.”

Jimin dodged another knife, briefly squeaking “Potato!” as fear encapsulated him; your aims are progressively improving. “Ouch, baby. Didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

You sneered, “you think you’re perfect?” You threw your last one and painfully watched it miss his shoulder by a hairline. Glancing around quickly, you lunged for a pair of scissors haphazardly fallen into a heap of office supplies.

A heavy weight thrusted upon you, slamming you into the ground on your back. “Shit.” You instantly moved to get up by your arms but they were restricted in Jimin’s grasp. “Let me go,” you strained, tugging to yank your arms out but to no avail.

“What were you trying to do? Huh? This is a paper company office building.” Jimin grunted, forcibly struggling to hold his wife down despite his whole body pressing her into the ground. Had she always been so strong?

“Light it on fire.” You smirked, shifting your hands around to feel the pair of scissors that were near you. Looking to your right, you froze when you realized the pair of scissors were no longer there. Jimin forced your hands above your head to hold with one hand.

“Looking for these scissors?”

You glared back at Jimin; the disappearing office supply made an appearance between his fingers.

Jimin tossed the scissors far across the room, and turned back to his wife. “Y/N, please wake up,” he begged.

“I don’t know any Y/N,” you growled. “I am the Suspense.”

You kicked your knees directly towards his family jewels, and quickly crawled away from him when he flinched away from you and loosened his grip. Quickly getting back to your feet, you sprinted towards the windows before breaking through the glass, falling down 14 stories.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran to the edge of the building where the window broke.

You were gone.

Is it a little odd that he secretly looked forward to his battles with you? Yes, every new and unknown evil deed that you had planned that day would worry him, but at least he knew you were okay, as demented as that was. It was his only time that he could see you, bask in your presence for a second before there’s a stink bomb flying his way.

It was the ass crack of dawn, and the skies lit up to a dim gray, filtering more light into the cold room. Jimin snuggles further into the warmth of the comforter, thinking too much of another warmth he could be having. Could he just turn off the air conditioner? Yes, but was he lazy? Also yes.

His hands linger to the side of the bed that you usually sleep on, his bottom lip quivering feeling the emptiness of the bed. Of the random conversations he had with you late at night, the light giggle you’d give when he nuzzles into your neck - all of you. He missed you. Sure, he got to see you every week, but he doesn’t get to hold you, to love you.

How were you? What were you doing? Did you still miss him even though you wanted to kill him?

He knows the Chief of Police is disappointed in him, is on edge and ready to reprimand Jimin for not fully putting in his best effort to capture you once and for all. He knows that he could’ve caught you at any time - heck, everyone knew it.

But he also knows the kind of place that all the villains are put into. They aren’t kind to them. They aren’t accommodating to them. They will definitely not leave his wife unharmed in their special hammer.

He hoped and prayed that he figures out that god damn word that will bring his wife back to him and to give the city their final state of peace.

He didn’t realize he started crying until the uncomfortable feeling of dry tear runs stiffen his face.

“Food delivery for Park Jimin,” the mailman states as he ambles through the office.

“I don’t remember ordering any…” Jimin states, but after noticing the logo of his favorite take-out restaurant, he concedes, “but if it’s for me, how could I deny it?” He hastily makes grabby hands for the food, happy that he has extra food to munch on during his lunch break.

He opens the container, taking a huge whiff of the tantalizing scent before he grabs a spoonful of oily sesame chicken. He lets out a hum of approval before he chokes, and he immediately spits out the food into his trash can, coughing profusely.

“Hey, are you alright?” The officer in the desk near him peers over in curiosity.

“There was something in there that didn’t taste right, it tasted like straight up pesticide or something.” Jimin chugs down a bottle of water when he notices a small slip of paper peeking out from under the take out box.

If you die, fantastic. If you don’t, at least I know I didn’t marry a moron. Love, your wife.

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispered. You tried to poison him.

“Park Jimin, over here!”

“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”

“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”

Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.

“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”

“Because she’s my wife.”

“Maaaaan, you done fucked up.”

“You think I don’t know that? You son of a bitch,” Jimin curses, turning down the volume of his earpiece now that he wasn’t in a public area. He slouches against the backseat of his car, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting so emotional these days, and it’s messing up my game.”

“More like your wife is messing up your game, but not in a good way,” the voice on the other end chuckles. “Anyways, after you get back to your place, could you double check the amount of arms you got in your place for me? I got the numbers in front of me but some aren’t adding up. Might be a miscount.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin mumbles. “Thanks, Namjoon. Who else will keep me on my feet if it weren’t for you rambling in my ear, huh?” “You say that like all I am is just your hacker tech guy. I thought I was more than that.”

Jimin smiles, knowing that Namjoon is probably sporting his puppy dog pout even though Jimin can’t see him.

“Sorry man,” Jimin joked, “but I’m already married.”

“About that, are we still sticking with the same plan? Randomly guessing your way to un-hypnotize your wife?”

“I mean, what else do you want me to do? Turn my wife into prison? You know they send all the villains into the worst prison, and my baby doesn’t deserve that.”

“There’s over a billion words that he could’ve used, Jimin. We’ve only gotten like a couple hundred at best.

“Then we keep trying,” Jimin growled, becoming more irritated. “If you wanna give up, then fine, but the wellbeing of my wife is in my hands so I’d rather you just stop chastising me for wanting my wife back to normal. I’ll call you later.”

Jimin immediately turned off his earpiece and harshly sighed. He’s got to test his luck again.

Jimin sat across from Taehyung and tilted his head. “You can’t possibly enjoy having someone else take all the glory for evil crimes if it’s not yourself, right? Dude, just stop and give me the magic word and we can go back to physically duelling each other.”

“Mmm, nah. I can see you’re trying to appeal to me, and I’d hate to break it to you, but that’s just not working. I quite enjoy the idea of you suffering because of me as I do nothing. It’s quite divine.”

“How can I cut you a deal so I can finally leave with what I want here?”

Taehyung tilts his head and looks up at the ceiling, pretending to think about what he wants before he grins wickedly at Jimin.

Jimin gulps, unprepared for what dangerous thing he may possibly want. A nuclear weapon? Full access to the government’s trade secrets?

“I want all the seasons of the Bachelorette and ongoing forward to be saved on my television in my cell.”

“The nature of your request is outrageou- wait, what?” Jimin backtracks, processing what Taehyung asked.

“You heard me properly. The guards are big meanies and they won’t let me change the channel or record the latest season of the Bachelorette. I need to know who the final two people will be before she chooses. I am frustrated.” Taehyung proceeds to shoot a glare at the guard outside the door.

“Deal…?”

“Here’s one good hint, Jimin. I think you’ll want to figure out a way to save your dearest betrothed by the end of this week.”

“And that’s because?”

“Well, I didn’t have time to finish planning more elaborate schemes for her fulfill, and let's say this might be the final one.”

“... what happens in the final one?”

“Well, the location is up to her discretion, but it may or may not involve collapsing a bridge or building, and she may or may not have to sacrifice her life to accomplish that task.”

“MY WIFE IS GOING TO DIE?”

“Maybe...I said maybe.”

Jimin leans forward until his face is just a mere inch away from Taehyung’s. “JUST TELL ME THE FUCKING WORD OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER, V. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT POWERS I HAVE TO END YOU.”

Taehyung ignores his yelling and the disgusting amount of spit landing on his face. “Do you remember our childhood, Jimin? We used to be such cute little bastards.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Jimin mutters, kicking his seat to the side and turning to leave.

“But Jimin, think about it for a moment with me. We used to have so much fun together. We used to play detective and criminal during recess, and I’m not going to lie, you weren’t a very good detective. I had to basically out myself every time for you to find me.”

Jimin turns his head. “Why would this matter to me?”

“We used to be best friends, Jiminie. You’re still my best friend. Aren’t I still yours?”

“I don’t know if mortal enemies can be best friends anymore, Taehyung.” Jimin mutters, but he still doesn’t leave.

“But you haven’t killed me,” Taehyung sputtered, “and there had been so many opportunities in the past where I could’ve just died, but you still managed to save me. I know you still care about me.”

“It goes against my morality to kill people. It’s nothing personal.”

“Don’t say that.” Taehyung’s voice cracked, but he continued, “Don’t say that. I know I mean something to you, I know I matter to you.”

“You matter to me because you keep vandalizing the city, putting the public’s safety at risk!” Jimin roars, turning back around and slamming his hands on the table. “As a hero, would it make sense for me to just ignore that?”

“It’s all because of you! This is all your fault!”

“All of my fault?” Jimin scoffed, “now you’re just reaching. How can I be the reason the city is in peril?”

“You stopped talking to me,” Taehyung whimpers. “When we got older, you started spending time with other people. You told me that you would still hang out with me, but you never did, because you were out there making new best friends!” Taehyung’s eyes watered, and he turned his head away from Jimin for the first time. “I was so lonely, Jimin. You are my only friend.”

Jimin stared at Taehyung for a while, the gears slowly churning in his head. Incredulous with the outcome of his thoughts, he murmured, “is that why you’ve been terrorizing the city? Is that your way of hanging out with me?”

“Well, I… I would’ve done it regardless. But I stayed in this city so that you wouldn’t forget me. I can’t have my best friend forget me,” Taehyung spoke softly. He looked back at Jimin with wide eyes, afraid that that moment would be the moment Jimin gave up on him.

Jimin took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again, the words stuck in his throat.

Taehyung watched as his old friend open and close his mouth like a fish, and for the first time in a long time, Taehyung felt nervous.

“That’s a really convoluted way to maintain our friendship,” he finally says. Taehyung lowers his eyes to the table, pretending that didn’t hurt him. “I do what I can to keep your attention, I had no other long lasting options other than using your job and your wife.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin started, “if I start coming by here twice a month to spend time with you, will you stop hurting my city?”

Taehyung’s head hangs low, but he nods ever so slightly.

“And will you tell me what the word is to save my wife?”

Taehyung hesitates, “I think my favorite game between us was the detective and criminal one.”

“Not this again,” Jimin groans, pushing himself away from the table.

“We used to have so many names to call each other during those times, but you and your limited vocabulary, you kept calling me the same damn stupid thing. I, an intellectual far past your capabilities, had the best and diverse names. But either way, sometimes I knew that you grew tired of the game really fast, even though I loved it.” Taehyung chuckled to himself.

Jimin left the room, tired of his antics and feeling like his confrontation led him somewhere and nowhere. Just as the door was closing and he was only within earshot, he faintly heard the last sentence Taehyung stated.

“You still played it anyways; thank you, Jiminie.”

Jimin plopped on his mattress, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. You may or may not be dying by the end of tomorrow, and for that, he is wary. Taehyung gave him little to no clues at all, and he wondered what he’d truly done wrong in this world to receive such predicament.

He closed him eyes, breathing deeply to relax the growing. He thought back to his conversations with Taehyung, breezing through them with no tell-tale hint in sight. He goes through it over and over, until one detail speaks out to him.

Taehyung mentioned the criminal and detective game more than once.

‘We used to have so many names to call each other during those times, but you and your limited vocabulary, you kept calling me the same damn stupid thing.’

The answer he was looking for was given to him after all. Was it that nickname? Jimin furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard about their old childhood, but he could vaguely remember something from at least 20 years ago. He only remembers images of playing around with Taehyung under the slides, but never what he said.

What could it be? What could it be? Dinglebat…? No, it couldn’t have been.

Jimin yanked at the roots of his hair in frustration, feeling the answer at the tip of his tongue, but not quite there. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, startling him momentarily before he reached for it. “Yes?”

“Hey, Jimin,” Namjoon said, typing in the background. “Any updates?”

“My wife is going to die tomorrow.”

A beat of silence passed. “Well, that’s a little negative, don’t you think?”

“No, Namjoon,” Jimin sighed, “I spoke with V today. It turns out tomorrow will be the day that she will have to die in order to blow up some building or bridge.”

“Oh shit,” Namjoon whispered.

“Yeah,” Jimin affirmed. “I don’t know where though, can you look up some major bridges or buildings nearby that may have been scouted by her?”

“Sure thing, dude.” Jimin waited patiently as the furious clicking and typing resumed, standing up with the phone nestled between his shoulder and ear as he sifted through files on his desk. “Okay, so we have the big ole water tower, the channel news building, city hall, the Blue Bridge - oh my god.”

“What, what is it?” Jimin examined the photo of his wife aiming a gun at him. It’s totally living room wall worthy.

“Get your stuff ready; Y/N is already there setting up machinery along the bridge. If what you’re saying is right, then those are probably bombs.” Jimin cursed before speeding out the door.

You check the fourth bomb that was set up along the bridge, the wiring complex and you couldn’t risk the bomb being improperly wired. How embarrassing would it be if one of your impressive bombs just fizzed into smoke because the blue connected with the red and not the green? You reached into the depths of your Duffle Bag of Cool Gadgets, as V so eloquently labeled it and double checked the instructions manual V so artistically drew out.

To be quite fair, the manual was detailed down to the T, save for the fact one of the pages had a a very detailed phallic in the corner, but you had disregarded that.

Humming to yourself, you decided that the bomb looked fairly decent, and settled to move to the next step - building a bomb on your body.

It never crossed your mind that the severity of the situation and that you were going to die would be something to panic about. You felt that you were in a mindless zone to follow the handbook that V had made for you when you arrived in his secret lair. You went through each mission in order, but not stopping to realize that this one was going to be the last one.

Your skin itched, the worn elastic of your bodysuit was uncomfortable, but it also may be due to the fact that you didn’t wash it from the last battle. Fishing through your duffle bag for extra wiring, the influx of traffic that busied the bridge blocked your hearing of a certain someone flying by.

Jimin surveilled the scene, noting that you were awfully distracted and your senses drowned by the honking of cars. There were six bombs in total, and two of the ones in the middle looked awfully larger than the rest.

“You see what I’m seeing, Namjoon?” The static of the other line echoed in his bluetooth.

“Yeah, man. This is scary. Judging by the build and the amount, they’ll probably detonate all at once with a button. As long as you get a handle of it, and I’ll get all the cars off the bridge, you’d be on solid ground.”

“Thanks, man.” Coming to a stop a good 20 feet away from you, he shouted, “Y/N! Stop what you’re doing!”

You groaned at the familiar sound before turning to face him. “Suddenly, I stop what I’m doing because a lame ass in a cape told me to!” You press the watch on your wrist that activates the jet packs attached to your shoes and you fly up to face him head on.

“Shoo fly, stop bothering me.” You take out the gun strapped to the back of your leg and shoot tennis balls at him.

“Shit,” Jimin mutters before dodging your attacks. “Why do you like to throw things at me so much!” Jimin cried. A tennis ball lands right where his goods were, and of course you would always aim balls at his balls. He topples to the ground, skidding a few meters, deliberating between clutching his hurt shoulder from the impact or his crotch.

Thankfully, by then, Namjoon contacted the local police to block the entrances on the bridge, clearing citizens from any harm. Police stood by with their guns ready to fire when given the command, but with so many bombs around, they couldn’t risk misfiring.

“These balls are calibrated to fire at 110 miles per hour,” you smirked, blowing the tip of the barrel for good measure. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” Deciding to forego assembling the bomb vest, you swept back to the barrel, locating the detonator remote to get the deed over with.

Finally grasping the remote, you were half a second away from pushing the sole red button when Jimin’s body comes slamming into you, once again, knocking the remote out of your hands.

“Oh, fuck you!” You pushed at his shoulders and punched him square in the nose. Depending on the short amount of time his shock allowed, you kicked at his torso to remove him off of you and clamored towards the remote some feet away.

Jimin gasps at the sharp pain on his left ankle; much to his dismay, when you pushed him off his foot caught in a juncture in the cement and twisted his ankle. He grunted, maneuvering his body to crawl towards to you. He yanked at your ankles, dragging you back to him, attempting to pin you down. “Stop it!” Jimin’s mind reeled as he struggled to recollect the nickname he used to call Taehyung. “Stop, dinglebat!”

You wriggled in his grasp, making his efforts more difficult and scoffed, “oh, so now we’re calling each other names?”

You back elbowed him in the jaw, and crawled faster, more desperately to the detonator. You were so close, you just needed a little more.

“No, ninnyhammer!”

The remote in your grasp, you smiled victoriously and tilted your head to see the fear in Jimin’s eyes as he limped towards you. You pressed the button, waiting in the few seconds for the bombs to activate.

In that moment, it was almost as if Jimin’s mind cleared, and he yelled, “PINHEAD! PINHEAD! PINHEAD!”

You froze, the remote dropping from your hands as you slowly regained control of your mind. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body collapsed to the ground as all your energy fell from you, giving you a nice sideways view of Jimin screaming at you and just barely reaching you -

The ground collapsed beneath you, the bridge exploding to smithereens and you were falling.

There was debris around you and you registered that you were falling. You were falling. You were falling. Panic swallowing your body, you frantically pressed the button on your watch to activate the jet packs but to no avail.

“Y/N!” Jimin yelled, falling briefly before he started to fly again, this time flying straight towards you.

Gravity proved to be a much faster competition, and you plummeted into the depths of the dark blue lake.

Diving into the water, Jimin swam amidst the dust filled water until he saw you sinking deeper into the lake. He swam fervently towards you, grabbing your arm and yanking you into his grasp, holding you as if he were hugging you before he floated upwards. Once above water, he propelled himself upwards and flew the both of you to land.

Placing you on your side on the grass hill beside the lake, Jimin forcefully patted your back to help drain any water from your nose and mouth. “Y/N! Y/N! WAKE UP!” Jimin’s heart crushed seeing the gash on the side of your head, presumably from a large chunk of debris colliding into you. He turned you back on your back and listened for a pulse. Hearing the faint beating of your heart relieved only a small part of him as he immediately propped open your mouth and pinched your nose with trembling hands. Taking in a long, shaking inhale, he pressed his mouth to yours, exhaling four breaths of air and checking your pulse once more. He repeated the cycle over and over until your eyes fluttered open and you violently coughed.

“Y/N,” Jimin spoke softly, lifting the back of your head gently to help you. Your eyes blurring and your throat and lungs burning with soreness, you made out the shape of Jimin hovering above you, watching as he’s sobbing and stroking your cheeks.

“Hi... Jimin,” you croaked, tilting the corners of your mouth when he envelopes your body in a hug, careful not to hurt you and burying his face into your neck.

“You’re back,” Jimin cries, “you’re back.”

#cmbnetwork #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jimin fluff #bts imagine #jimin imagine #jiminxreader #jimin #bts #i hope yall like this fic!!! it took me 5ever

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