#The less I remember the majority of people being this embarrassing and inducing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

petition for stem koo to do all the things for oc he originally said no one does (make her lunchboxes, makes her cheerful...) bc i think that’s a beautiful redemption arc

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook's day one of his redemption agenda doesn't go that well in the end

"namjoon!!! my man. got any updates for me?"

seokjin strolls coolly on the way to his office, hair slicked back and his dress shirt definitely missing more than a few buttons

what's head admin gonna do??? dress-code him???

fire him???? PLS HE'D BE BETTER OFF!!!!

jin makes student affairs his bitch,,, not the other way around

"for the last time, i am nOt your secretary!!" namjoon stresses as he ceases his typing just to glare at him

he's the university registrar and everyone needs to go through him and at this point he's like a historical landmark from how he's made impact in less than two years

and he and seokjin graduated from the same batch!!!! they're the uncanny always pair for the subjects they shared together

it was definitely weird but functional lol cause one is uptight yet hardworking and the other's relaxed yet smart

sue them for working in the same place they swore they'd never go back to after graduation </3

"if you say-"

"some kid's been waiting for you even before i opened the office. made him sit inside but i just told him that he'd be expelled if he even tries to touch your coffee machine."

namjoon says even before jin could finish the sentence, clearly holding that in until the last minute

jin's obviously a lil annoyed because he's starting work as early as now but the way that joon laid all that out on him is a highlight for him

"thanks. knew you're a secretary for me first and a registrar second."

"no. i'm a national citizen before-"

alright alright he's not listening anymore

this bETTER be important because jin has to hold out his morning routine for whoever this kid is

"what can i possibly do for you today?" he rubs his eyes in preparation, intentionally dragging his steps because just looking at how near he is to his work computer gives him vertigo

"mr. kim!!!"

there is no way

there is no fATHOMABLE way that this has got to be happening to seokjin right now

"..... jungkook. what a pleasure."

he sits on his chair, voice gritted and monotone and he could just feel his eye twitching, his clenched fist under his deck now flipping off the kid in secret

it's a last-minute realization that he grasps that jungkook doesn't know you're his friend and it presents some really unique vantage points

like the time that seokjin recounted about a ridiculous student's filing for theft of his lunchboxes and he turned out to be your crush

or when he used his student affairs capabilities and pulled up resources left and right when jungkook broke your heart then seriously contemplated about messing up his academic record

or that time when he delivered a high and sleepy you to bed and then heard the entire conversation (if you could even call it that) between yoongi and this fucking nerd

"i need your help, mr. kim. you're the closest one to me i could ask!!" jungkook pleads desperately, the big doe eyes not really inducing an effect on him whatsoever lmao

"mhmm. i may not be the person for the job. counseling is right next door."

jin hums without even attempting to get jungkook to elaborate because for all he knows, his services aren't exactly open for people who hurt his friends >:(

(a guy once bumped shoulders with yoongi twice on the same day with aTTITUDE!!! and seokjin just dismissed the dude's concerns when a prof of his, who's a buddy of jin's, suddenly gave him an F)

seokjin IS student affairs

“no, no. you’re the only one who can help me!! you see, i-i just feel this brotherly connection with you and-“

“we talked once.”

god what did you used to see in this kid??

a crybaby aND an easily-attached personality to him? god it’s like jungkook’s just asking jin to pick on him

jungkook doesn’t seem to pick up how jin’s making it obvious he really doesn’t want to be of help if it has something to do with him

he likes interrupting and jin’s just the perfect match to interrupt him even earlier so now they just sound like one of those dubsmash snippets

“MR. KIM!!! how do you make lunchboxes? i don't know how.”

jeez where are his manners :O aren’t nerds like him supposed to worship the ground that admins walk on,,,

but what did pique his attention is the content of what jungkook just said

.... lunchboxes?

jin doesn’t want to give the kid benefit of the doubt because the last time he did that, you got hurt!!!!

if he has to hear hyeji’s name one more time, he’d really waste no time in stripping jungkook’s name from the honor roll

“remember that time i thought someone was stealing my lunchboxes?” he quizzes jin like it’s his job, clueless how he’s poking the bear even more with where he decides to go with this, “yeah. turns out no one was.”

was that not made clear the first time around!!!!!! he knows for a fact that a uni student would trade a classmate for a pack of gum but nO ONE would go for stealing a lunchbox

no one wakes up one day and decides that they’d steal a lunchbox. literally none

“but then this random girl claimed that it was hers a-and well i-...”

kook pauses to gauge jin’s reaction, clearly seeing now the one brow that’s raised at him

oh so if jungkook just asked him how to make a lunchbox, and he called h-word random,,,, then that would mean-

“i may have hurt the original giver of my lunchboxes at the process.”

.... that means he’s asking how to make a lunchbox for you

well that was a pleasant surprise

seokjin snorts briefly at that, dryly chuckling with his eyes widening to stress out his “non-threat” that’s pretty mUCH a threat

“wow. i might just give you a sanction for that.”

does he think jungkook’s a good person? lol he has to think about that for a month

was he wrong for hurting you that way? ultimately yes

but did he think at some point that jungkook’s completely heartless and wouldn’t try to redeem himself to his senior? no, not completely

but is he still on your team, regardless if the kid begs for mercy and you forgive him? yea a hundred percent :D yoongi and seokjin could never be brought out from your circle

"and you're doing this why?"

this is a no-brainer question for jungkook but the question still spooks him, feeling the chills at his neck that responding to seokjin is like a sTEPPING STONE when it comes to you

lmao if only he knew

"i uh, i just really wanna make this right. i messed up completely and it's pretty much unforgivable, but i atleast wanna try and give my best even if she doesn't forgive me, y'know?"

interesting

"mhmm. right, right."

???

he's still mad but he appreciates that jeon's doing the bare minimum of redeeming himself

speaking of, the poor kid looks like he's pissing himself because he may have just embarrassed himself with how long the silence stretches out

maybe,,, just maybe jin's gonna try and be a bridge this time

but like as soon as jungkook lacks for a fourth of a second, seokjin would BURN that bridge faster than a blink

"well first of all, you buy a lunchbox."

RIGHT RIGHT

jungkook grabs a literal pocket notebook and jin pretends he didn't see that because WHO the hell does that!!!!

"of course... okay, proceed!! i'm taking notes," jungkook nods in understanding, jotting down the very important advice of not ordering from online because you can't smell the material through a screen

p.s. smelling containers before you buy them is a VITAL thing to do!! it already tells you about the quality at the first sniff

"are you buying one?"

"buying one for every day of the week. i'm thinking if i should get extras too-

"good idea. i recommend buying eight."

alright seokjin's mentioning some very specific colors and schemes and jungkook's not complaining!!!

MAYBE HE'S ONTO SOMETHING!!!

"what meals should i make? i don't even know what she likes!! and even if i knew what, how would i make it?"

why is his heart racing

yoongi may have taught you how to do your taxes but jin taught you how to cook food that's more than four steps!!!

he taught you how to not flinch at all when you're frying and that's the equivalent of raising you to be the woman that you are now <3

look at him and yoongi being your best friends!! teaching you about taxes and being unnerved at cooking oil and busting out a smoke ring or two <3

in fact, the lunches you've cooked for jungkook are all inspired and derived by seokjin!!!

the fact that jungkook's plan isn't bad and the way everything pieces together with his insight,,,, goosebumps luv

"....hypothetically? what i think she'd like?"

jungkook eagerly nods with stars in his eyes, fingers gripping onto his pen for dear life as he tries to channel all his listening techniques into this lecture

"get a bigger notepad."

wow

"look at you!!" yoongi gushes the moment he sees you, waiting at you from the front door

you're going back to your classes again :D

you don't look as worse as you did four days ago!! you're not as sluggish and as animated too

"please don't," you snort as yoongi doesn't seem to stop looking at you like you've saved the world, giving no fight when he insists on carrying your backpack to your first class of the day

the past four days,, yeah they were undoubtedly rough

you slept as much as you could and for the moments you weren't dejected enough to be awake, you spent it surrounding yourself with seokjin and yoongi as much as possible

that's the beauty of hanging out them!!! you're not required to have a single thought lmao

except for the time when yoongi wondered aloud how eels even live and die (or if they even do???) in the first place and that sent everyone in a spiral and you didn't think of jungkook for a single seconds

you're not intimidated to go back to regular programming or with the fact that it's nOT unlikely you'd see a glimpse of jungkook in the hall and such

but that does mean that even if you're the bigger person, you're still gonna avoid him for as long as you could

speaking of!!!! you're looking for the person now that you're eager to find

"taehyung!!"

there he is :D you'd recognize that fluffy mop of permed hair anywhere

"y/n!!"

tae jumps over chairs in excitement to finally see you again after being so worried for you, engulfing you in a hug immediately

alright you see why yoongi thinks he's a golden retriever

you're clearly not a touchy-feely person but you'd let this one pass,, tae helped you (even indirectly) throughout your downtime anyways

"thank you so much for the cookies. i tried taking smaller bites just because i didn't wanna have them disappear that easy," you confess sheepishly, knowing how you had to pull the i just got my heart broken like two days ago multiple times so the two menaces would stop stealing from your stash

jungkook's excited!!!! seokjin may have given him a tip that "he felt it in his gut" that you were gonna go to class today

he came a little late because he wanted to perfect the very loaded lunchbox that's in his backpack right now

oh weird

you're not in your usual chair

bUT jungkook sees a glimpse of your hair and he's certain that you're there and his heart may be beating out of his ribcage

a baby peach lunchbox with a sticker (of what seokjin said he thought you'd like) on the middle of the lid :D

pork katsudon with furikake rice aND coffee jelly pudding on the side!!! it was definitely pressure-racking to strictly adhere to jin's recipe but god does it look worth it

jungkook's only did miniature taste tests on it and he had to stop himself from devouring the lunch that he's made specifically for you

the lunchbox itself is tied neatly with a silk wrap, adding his touch of sewing your name visibly on it aND there's a scribble taped to the lid too

god jungkook really can't wait to make it up to you

sheesh that was one of THEE longest lectures you've ever felt you had

it was actually the same amount of time it's always been but maybe you've been out of practice from just staying at your dorm for days

tae's great company but he could be a little bit chatty!!! you just nod when you feel his voice go up and he apparently gets excited by that easily

.... he apparently also has a small bladder and he told you that within the whole hour of class

"hold on. i gotta pee before next period. go without me!!!' taehyung hurriedly slings his backpack to his arm, looking ridiculous in a rush

tae's sometimes unintentionally funny because you don't even share next period anyways

you're on your way to the exit when a shiny scarf catches the corner of your eye, having to squint at it because wow does it look pretty

is that-

is that your nAME???

you pick it up before you could even rationalize it, realizing then what it was wrapping when you feel the warmth on your hands

:")

"sorry i forgot my headband!!!"

taehyung stumbles back into the room, catching his breath to run back to his seat and fetch the headband he took from his hair to play with awhile ago

he looks shocked to see what's on your hands, flicking his gaze between you and the item but he doesn't think much of it

wOW that's a really shiny scarf!!!

"tae?"

"hmm yeah? what's up?"

he's about to jog back to the comfort room because he hasn't really relieved himself yet, not bearing to leave his headband in the room when anyone could snatch it up

you raise your lunchbox, a thankful gaze on your eyes that looks so close to crying which is why tae's mORE than lost now

"thanks for the lunch."

.....

jungkook could only helplessly watch.

#EEEEEEEEK :D I HAVE A REQUEST QUEUED UP NEXT BUT WHAT DO YOU WANNA SEE IN THE NEXT PARTS #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook angst #college jungkook au

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less.

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming.

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more.

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?”

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair.

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie.

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late.

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest.

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled.

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in.

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class.

Of fucking course you did.

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall.

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of.

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that.

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule.

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you.

Fucking disgusting.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top.

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica.

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist.

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D.

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working.

This was going to be a nightmare.

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again.

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging.

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not.

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy.

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for.

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence.

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell.

And god if he thought you were irritating.

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop.

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions.

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier.

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A.

That walking condescension on the other hand—

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask.

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it.

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.”

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression.

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence.

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees.

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing.

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did.

“Really? Well they should.”

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head.

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.”

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie.

God just talking to you made his skin burn.

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see.

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed.

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option.

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else.

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.”

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up.

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever.

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch.

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long.

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either.

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something.

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat.

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.”

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out.

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support.

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day.

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge.

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.”

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.”

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks.

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him.

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity.

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff?

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him.

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension.

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers.

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone.

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either.

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours.

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand.

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students.

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text.

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #bnha fanfiction #tomura shigaraki imagines #fem!reader #incel!shigaraki #college au #bee.writes

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pies-writes-and-more · 4 years ago

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фейерверк

Word Count: 161 for the poem, 2,558 for the fanfic!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: firework-induced panic attack descriptions, maybe some anxious thoughts, but there’s a lot of fluff in the end i promise!

A/N: Instalment #6 in @wxstedhexrt‘s and my Falling collection! Series Masterlist can be found HERE. Please read the poem first as it is the whole centrepiece of the fanfic :) If you need or would like a typed out version of the poem instead of the photo below, here’s the link to it on Destiny’s blog :) I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I loved Destiny’s poem for this <3 (Sorry for how late this one is! I’ve been so swamped with writer’s block and homework haha)

фейерверк (Russian): fireworks (pronounced feyyerverk according to Google Translate)

It didn’t really matter that Steve had insisted that he didn’t want a big party. His concerns fell on deaf ears and Tony made an offhanded remark that he had been preparing for this party for 5 months now.

“Can’t have our very own American veteran not be celebrated on his ultra-American birthday! The party will be grand. No, grander than grand! You are America’s Sweetheart, after all,” Tony had scoffed and Steve had face-planted onto the table in front of him, groaning like he was getting his teeth pulled out.

And it was grander than grand. Y/N couldn’t remember a time in her past that she had been around so many people before. She wasn’t even sure she had ever heard of the brands of the top-shelf liquor that Tony insisted on serving, or that she had ever seen an ice sculpture in person before. It was very well crafted, even capturing Steve’s side grin that made all the girls who were attending the party swoon. Y/N was grateful that Wanda and Nat were around, hooking arms with them so she didn’t trip over her floor length evening gown. It didn’t help that the press were so eager to hear from her, being the newest team member that is, about what it was like to be working with Steve Rogers, always asking if they could quote her on what she had said and making her wonder if she had said something that was going to be taken out of context later.

But a couple of champagne glasses and top notch whiskey thrown back and Y/N was humming along to the songs the live band played like she hadn’t been anxious at all. Bucky had even joined her for a dance to a slow song, whispering sweet nothings into her ear about how gorgeous she looked tonight as if he hadn’t been the one to pick out the dress. He himself was looking very well put together, and Y/N was glad that her bobby bins had helped to keep his long hair back into a bun.

Hours filled with somewhat boring conversations and stolen giggles with the girls flew by quickly, and now, the party was finally coming to a close. Tony insisted that since every party had to have a good ending so that it was not easily forgotten, so near the end of the night, he quickly ushered everyone outside. The cool evening breeze made Y/N and a few other women shiver, her fingers rubbing gently along her exposed skin to keep her warm, but the look on Tony’s face insisted that whatever was going to happen was going to be worth it.

He stood up on a stage, grinning and posing for a moment before inviting the birthday boy onto the stage and clapping a hand on his shoulder saying, “Thank you, Cap, for everything you’ve done for us. Truly, I’ll never have anyone else be so helpful. Seriously ‘cause no matter how old I get, I always remember, that you’re so much older,” Tony grinned and Steve rolled his eyes with laughter, chuckles pouring out of the audience. “Now to celebrate my favourite Captain, I have asked a very special man to help me with some very special fireworks. But first, Birthday Boy, would you like to give a speech?” Tony held out the microphone but Steve waved it away. No matter how hard the crowd cheered, Y/N laughed a little knowing that Steve’s ears were turning pink with embarrassment, knowing he didn’t really like talking in front of large groups.

“Tony, just get on with it,” Steve tried to beg, cheeks flushed as all eyes turned to him.

“Fine, anyone else want to talk about the birthday boy?” Tony offered, holding out the microphone in the crowd’s direction.

“Oh! ME! Mr. Stark, Tony! Me! Please, pickmepickmepickmepickmeeee!” sang a voice from the very back of the crowd. Much like everyone else, Y/N turned to see who was yelping from the very top of their lungs and she burst into giggles noting Scott Lang’s eager hand waving to grab Tony’s attention.

“Really, anyone at all,” Tony was saying, as if there wasn’t a man jumping up and down like a 4 year old. “Anyyyyoneeee?”

“Mr. Iron Man! Me! I promise it’ll be good! It’ll be like the best speech you’d ever heard!” Scott was pleading and Y/N realized that the flush in his skin was probably due to the alcohol in his blood. He tried to wave around both hands, forgetting that one of them was filled with some whiskey and it splashed around to the people around him. “Oops I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t mean to do that, I’m so very sorry-”

“Fine. Get up here, Regular Sized Dude,” Tony groaned, rubbing his forehead gingerly as Scott whooped and hollared excitedly, dashing through the crowd clumsily to get to the stage.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” Scott started as he yelled into the crowd. Tony rolled his eyes and shoved the mic into his hands, probably adding into Scott’s ear that he didn’t need to yell. “Alright. Whew. Here we go,” Scott grinned, wiggling out his joints like he was getting ready for a fight. He turned to face Steve’s direction, who was turning bright red at the second hand embarrassment.

“Mr. Captain, Captain Steve, Mr. Rogers, Captain America, Mr. America, Steve- if I can call you Steve. Steve!” Scott howled out the last one, grinning from ear to ear as if his words weren’t slurring together and his body wasn’t fumbling around the stage. “Mr. Steve, you are one of the coolest people I’ve ever met and I need you to know just how amazing I know you are like seriously, did you guys see that news story where he just lifted like three cars?” Scott asked with wide eyes, looking to the crowd for some sort of agreement. “Seriously, like I think you’re a really cool dude and you’re always super nice and- no no, I swear I’m almost done- you’re like my biggest hero so thank you so much for letting me join your team.” Scott waved away Tony who continuously tried to take the mic away, still going on his love confession to the Captain.

Murmurs in the crowd with fake smiles plastered on had everyone wondering how long this speech was going to go on. Hope managed to get through the crowd with a forced and apologetic smile on her face, climbing the stage and tugging on Scott’s arms to drag him down slowly.

“I LOVE YOU CAP!” Scott yelled out once more before Hope finally managed to tug him down, Tony grabbing the microphone and trying to salvage the audience’s attention.

“Uh, thank you Scott, for that really desperate attempt of a speech. Thank you for not letting the audience suffer anymore, Hope. Anyways, on to our grand finale! The fireworks!” Tony proclaimed and a feeling of relief washed over the crowd as they cheer, Y/N clapping along as a few workers helped to prepare the first few. The dark sky was quickly lit up with red, white, and blue. Flashes and bangs popped up into the atmosphere and the guests were all ooh-ing and aww-ing at the sight of them. All in a row, the lights popped up into view with loud sounds and then dissipated back into the black nothingness.

Y/N’s lips were worn into a tired smile as she watched the sky, tired of both talking to her friends and socializing with people who seemed awfully familiar but she couldn’t quite place where they had met. She was utterly exhausted, though to be honest, she expected nothing less from a Tony Stark party.

For just a moment though, there was very little chatter, and everyone stood together all staring up at the sky, mouths open just slightly as they watched art made by some famous firework maker light up the sky. Steve’s face sparkled against the dark sky, his shield popping up next to him with a loud bang.

Then out of nowhere, it was almost as if there was a quick whisper in her ear, as if some deity had kneeled down to her height and wondered aloud, “Where’s Bucky?”

The thought pulled Y/N from her sky gazing, eyebrows furrowing when she didn’t catch his eyes immediately. The two of them had been unhappily torn apart from each other for the majority of the night, Y/N having been pulled by reporters and esteemed guests while Bucky tried to stay out of the limelight due to his reputation. But even though they had been apart physically, Y/N always found herself able to catch his eye even from across the room, and a quick shared smile between the two of them was all Y/N needed to feel comfortable in the room again.

She finally caught sight of his frame, his dark hair pulled into a bun and tall demeanour making him easy to spot over the crowd, and for a moment, her nerves were relieved. But there was a look in his eyes that made her stomach turn. She wasn’t quite sure from this distance, but something was wrong and she knew it. “Excuse me, ladies,” Y/N gave a short smile to the women around her, pushing through the crowd around her in an eager attempt to find him. She had to get to his side, she had to help, she knew something was going wrong.

When she finally got close enough to note his facial expression, another firework went off and she noticed just how quickly the blood was draining from his face, his eyes wide and trained on the flashes of light in the sky. “Sorry, gentlemen, I’m going to steal Bucky for a moment,” she spoke quickly, giving a smile to Sam and Clint who chuckled, not noticing the panic in Bucky’s face and assuming the couple were just disappearing for some alone time.

Y/N placed her hands gently on Bucky’s chest, gently pushing him backwards, looking up at his eyes as his gaze slowly fell to hers. She watched as his dry lips parted slightly, eyes widening some more as no sounds came out. “It’s okay. Just come with me inside, Bucks,” Y/N whispered to him, taking his hand and walking briskly to the doors. Firework after firework crackled into the sky and Y/N realized as they so quickly burst behind them, just how much it sounded like a war. Her heels clicked underneath her as the two of them scurried off past the party room that was once filled with far too many people, and soon found themselves in Y/N’s room. She closed the door quickly behind them, keeping the lights off and rushing over to the window to shut the curtains.

When she returned to Bucky’s side, she noticed the clamminess of his hands, the sweat beading at his brow, the bloodshot in his eyes. “Bucky?” Y/N called to him gently, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. “Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me okay? I’m gonna take this tie off alright?” Y/N told him and waited for his head to slowly nod before her fingers pried the knot away from his throat, slipping it onto the floor. She remembered just how happy he looked earlier today, staring at himself in the mirror and commenting to her how he hadn’t felt this happy in so long.

Now here he was, standing there like when she had first met him. Broken emotions heavy in his eyes, fingers curling into fists as if ready to defend himself. Her fingers gently pulled apart the first few buttons of his shirt and reached behind her to find a small face towel she normally used for her skincare routine. With gentle and soft presses to his face, Y/N patted away the sweat that stuck his loose hairs to his forehead, gently reminding him to “breathe in…. okay now breathe out…,” as she went.

Bucky’s eyes seemed so hollow as he watched her, his breath still jerky and heaving, as if he was unable to grab the oxygen he needed. “Here,” Y/N offered softly, taking his hand and pressing it to her chest, keeping his eyes on her. “Copy me,” she whispered, slowly breathing in and out, dramatizing the movement of her chest and shoulders so he could see. Bucky nodded after a while, his breaths slowly becoming calmer, more fluid. “I’m here, don’t worry,” she whispered to him softly, reaching up with one hand and tucking his hair behind his ear. “I promise they won’t hurt you anymore.”

There was a moment here and Y/N would wonder later if Bucky felt it too. A sort of serene minute where the muffled sound of fireworks in the distance stopped and the two of them just stood there, breathing and looking at each other.

“Will you stay with me?” Bucky asked quietly, feeling how eager his panic was to seep back in. He needed to control it, he wanted to fight it, and yet it felt like he was swinging his arms at a losing battle.

Y/N nodded slowly, reaching up to kiss his nose, “Of course. Want to watch some cartoons?” She offered and grinned as the suggestion lit up his eyes. He nodded quickly, trying not to wince as another firework went off somewhere.

In a few moments, old reruns were playing on Y/N’s laptop and she had pulled out her speaker too so the noise was a little louder than the fireworks going off. She waited for him to settle on the bed, for his breathing to slow down and his body to relax, before prying off her dress and pulling on some comfier clothes.

“Can I come cuddle you?” She asked him in a hushed whisper as she crawled back into bed with him, as if they were going to get caught and scolded if they were any louder. Bucky nodded quickly and opened his arms for Y/N to crawl into, and pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Scooby and his gang caught the thief, the Road Runner still managed to outrun the Coyote, and Tweety outsmarted Sylvester the Cat, and Y/N and Bucky were still half watching, their eyelids heavy with the full exhaustion of being social hitting them.

Y/N’s eyes closed for a moment and she felt Bucky’s fingertips trace gentle shapes into her arm. She kept herself awake as she felt his finger start to make more deliberate lines, slowly spelling out what felt like… I LOVE YOU.

Her heart fluttered for a moment and she couldn’t help but shift in her nervousness. She felt Bucky’s breath hitch, as if worried that she really was still awake and wondering what she would think. Had she really felt what she thought she felt? Was it real? Was she just dreaming?

“Y/N?” Bucky whispered gently, his thumb now stroking her arm. “Are you sleeping?” He murmured.

“Mm?” Y/N hummed, turning further into his chest as the next cartoon episode started to play.

“Just… wanted to thank you for tonight. Thank you for being there for me.” Bucky’s voice sounded like music, floating in the air like a dream.

“Always,” Y/N yawned softly, a small smile on her lips as she felt him press another kiss to her brow.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

WE LOVE A WHOLESOME COUPLE. I love these two so much. A big thank you to Destiny for the idea of a drunken Scott speech (so much fun to write honestly) and a thank you to my IRL bf for being my muse for the whole ‘tracing I love you’ thing (fun fact: he did that to me before the boy even got the nerve to ask me out LOL)

Anyways, as always, we love to hear from you lovelies! Please feel free to comment any feelings!!!

MASTERLIST // Destiny’s Blog! <3

109 notes · View notes

onyourzeus · 4 years ago

Text

• stress-free | kwp

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: stress-free pairing: kim wonpil (of day6) & you (she/her pronouns) genre: FLUFF, college!au words: 3.4k

author’s note: @pirimiritiddy requested a fic about wonpil, and here it is. it went on for longer than i previously planned, buuuuut. i hope it’s still okay aaaa

(this is the 1st time i’ve written something for wonpil so if i get his personality wrong, i do apologize. i am also a baby myday huhu)

this dot fic (bullet style) is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario that i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: dowoon (currently only 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

wonpil hates his schedule for this winter term

who assigns a class that is only available at seven in the evening??

3 times a week

during THE WINTER

did he mention it’s a major lecture he’s required to take??

psychology of stress, more like

this class is giving him the kind of stress it is specifically warning its students about

anyway, what can he say. he chose this major, there’s only 1 more term after this one and then finally: graduation

it’ll be fine, he’ll live

thank the heavens they didn’t need to attend the first two meetings, but some reading material was provided

and was expected by the professor to have been read and reflected upon

the class is really living up to its name because when wonpil opened the pdf

it was 30 pages of tiny font sized sentences (for ants!) about the definition of stress and how it affects every part of the body yada yada yada

wonpil tried. he really tried

that is to say he fell asleep on his desk while going over the same 20th page of the document

if it weren’t for jae shaking him awake, he’d miss his first night class

it would’ve been nice… if only the professor didn’t take attendance (something about being generous enough to make the first 2 classes “free,” so everyone has an obligation to come in for the remainder of the semester)

great, he’s stuck freezing his ass off just walking to the bus stop alone

hopefully they turn the heater all the way up in the auditorium or else

the thousands spent in tuition would have literally been for nothing

overdramatic wonpil, can you blame him

he thinks about reading the remaining 10 pages on the bus, even if he knows nothing of value will be absorbed

he wants to tries anyway, he does feel a little bit refreshed from that impromptu nap

the bus has arrived, and it’s packed as usual; a lot of the students riding the shuttle are just yet to take off in the following stops

wonpil squeezes his way inside, 30 pages of stress psychology research gripped in both hands

“excuse me, sorry,” wonpil mumbles, eyeing for a spot to sit to make him comfortable

because once all the people standing up leave, it’s usually a race for the exit

he’ll never understand college students

finally, he sees an empty seat way in the back. there was a girl on one end and two other students who seem to be ready to get off on the right side

wonpil doesn’t mind sitting next to someone, but once those 2 are gone he’ll just scoot over to give the girl on the left some privacy

she seems very much in deep sleep anyway, wonpil wonders if her stop is coming or she’s riding to go to campus?

wonpil doesn’t have time to think about other people, it causes him unnecessary stress

once sat down, his eyes focus on the last page he left off of

the words register as gibberish in his brain, and with the bus moving so much it makes it even more difficult to follow along the paragraphs

wonpil takes in a deep breath, holds it in, and sighs very heavily

his patience is usually the best out of his friends, but this class is turning more and more into the psychology of how to get you stressed tf out instead

the bus nears its next stop, and the two people on his side stand up to leave, yes he can breathe normal air

however

hold on

his shoulder feels heavy

turning his head slightly, for some reason once the bus had stopped its engine the girl’s head had flipped over to lean against wonpil’s shoulder instead

oh no oh no oh no

his shoulders suddenly freeze, as if blasted with a ray gun filled with ice

it’s heavy and he can’t move, it’s numb and this girl’s hair is splayed all over his his sweater

and she

she smells of coffee, and wonpil inhales it in

it’s not foul or anything, but it’s definitely exuding notes of espresso bean and freshly roasted coffee

it makes wonpil feel a little more awake

but he still can’t move his shoulders, and suddenly he’s panicking because the bus started moving again and even though capacity has lessened by 80%

someone decided to sit on the other end of the row he’s at

so if he even attempts to move, he’ll still be seated next to someone

wonpil grumbles, lower lip jutting forward

something shifts

and he realizes he shook his shoulders a little bit with his frustration

“ah…” he exclaims inaudibly, panicking at the possibility that he had woken her up from her nap

wonpil tenses up, shoulders stiff and eyes peering at his side to see what she’s up to

she lifts her head just a few inches off of wonpil’s shoulder, and for a moment he’s relieved that maybe she realizes what’s going on

but wonpil only hears a soft yawn coming from her, and she returns to using his very rigid shoulder as her pillow during this bus ride

let’s just say that the next thirteen minutes was more stress-inducing than wonpil wanted it to be

right when the bus reaches the final stop (main campus), wonpil exerts any and all efforts he has to shake his shoulder, up and down, enough to elicit an awake response from this stranger

the moment he feels her let up, wonpil dashes through that bus door like there’s no tomorrow

he is greeted with the coldest wind hitting his face, and his shoulder feeling numb from all the.. pillow roleplaying it did, if you will

wonpil feels bad, borderline guilty for leaving her like that— what if she’s asleep until now?? he can almost hear soft snores from her end for a minute there, too, and it took so much of wonpil to resist chuckling at it while in panic mode simultaneously

suffice to say, he was not able to read the rest of the document

in wonpil’s defense, he had encountered it first hand — how stress overcomes one’s body and mind

he forces himself to focus on what’s ahead, as boring as it sounds

he enters the lecture hall with a few minutes so spare, deciding to sit in the back

the projector screens are big and wonpil is not about to take his chances of getting called on today

luckily enough, he finds a row with visibly no other student sitting around the area

shoulder feeling more alive, he comes back to his senses as well

he takes off his outer sweater as it had become toastier inside. he still had a couple layers beneath his clothes

as the professor starts talking, wonpil finds himself yawning a few times

he doesn’t know if the video playing on screen is boring him or the girl in the bus affected his sleepiness

suddenly he remembers the smell of coffee, and how that’d sound real good right about now

he slaps both of his cheeks lightly, trying to take him back in the zone of at least writing down important notes

he’s on the fifth bullet point of his note-taking when the door behind him opens abruptly

it wasn’t loud or disrupting to the whole class, virtually no one even batted an eye

but thats because they’re far from the door

and wonpil is literally ten feet away, so when he feels the cold suddenly hit his back he had to know the source of the sudden hit in temperature

the class hadn’t been going on for less than an hour, and there have been students coming in on the other end of the auditorium

so wonpil isn’t that surprised that another student has just arrived

he caught a glimpse of her hair, but that’s about it as wonpil goes back to his tedious notes

until the very same person scoots herself in wonpil’s row

he huffs under his breath, the illusion of some privacy now shattered

with a polite (semi-forced) smile, wonpil turns to the side to greet his classmate

again, wonpil becomes frozen in spot

kind of like when you feel a magnetic pull somewhere, you follow it

and then suddenly you see it from afar, not believing your eyes if it’s actually real; if it’s actually there

in wonpil’s case, he’s one seat away from her

recognizing the flow of her hair, but more importantly

that distinct scent of coffee beans from her clothes

this time, wonpil has a clear look on her face and he’s… speechless

his polite smile has turned into a look of awe, eyes glued towards her

she senses his gaze, turns to him and quickly bows down as a polite greeting

“sorry, but has the class been going on for a while?”

she speaks

“oh, um, what— what?”

“oh,” she looks confused, but rephrases her question, “what time did the class start? i had a hard time finding this lecture hall.”

she’s talking to him, not just leaning her head on his shoulder

“seven”

was all wonpil could say

“it started at 7? cool, i’m not that late then!” she cheers, grinning shyly. wonpil watches the way she puts a strand of hair tucked beneath her ear. she’s pulling out her laptop from her bag when she notices a pair of wide eyes still on her person

“is… is this seat taken?” she asks, and wonpil hasn’t even taken in the fact that this is the same person from the bus

“yes”

tongue-tied wonpil strikes again, blinking back his own obliviousness to her question

“i mean— no, now it is, by you. you’re sitting there, um, i— feel free to sit wherever you want”

he’s scrambling for his words, flustered cheeks heating up amidst the warmth of the room

she just nods her head in understanding, and wonpil finally realizes he’s been staring at her direction for longer than he should have

“STRESS”

the professor verbalized into her mic which causes wonpil to look to the front all of a sudden

right, right. he’s at a lecture. what’s gotten him so fidgety and embarrassed and now all that he’s pretending to type on his google doc is

sdfjfjdfhshllsghgjghsh

just so he looks busy next to the girl who fell asleep on him on the bus

was there any point in preoccupying his mind with thoughts of her, and her head resting on him? no it’s stupid, wonpil knows this.

people do it all the time, by accident, due to exhaustion, they don’t mean a thing by it

but wonpil is curious, and this is going to kill him. for sure

so he peeks at her again, and like a normal, decent student that she is (compared to wonpil at this point let’s be real) her hands are busy hand writing whatever the professor was saying

meanwhile, wonpil continues to sdfjskgnglddfjs his way to a passing B in this class

even in this large, spacious lecture hall he can still take in her scent

maybe it’s a new perfume that’s up and coming, that’s why it smells so strongly on her

oh! he can ask that? hey, do you mind sharing what line of perfume you’re using? it smells really good

it sounds like a common question, right? i mean if you wear strong fragrances you’re bound to be asked a question about it

he’s about to ask, he really was so ready to ask, what was he gonna lose? his dignity?

over a simple, inquisitive question?

“and now before we go on a twenty minute break, it’s time to introduce yourself to the person sitting close to you”

...

why do college professors have to do this?

wonpil bites his lip, at this point in time he’s a senior who’s fed up with ice breakers like this. if it were any other person sitting next to him, in front of him, behind him— he would just go with his usual introduction

“hi i’m kim wonpil, studying psychology and i graduate in the spring. i’m taking this class for a major requirement”

then go about his merry way.

but with her? she and him have history

sort of, and it’s the kind of history that is recent and wonpil is unsure if she is even aware of the weird string of fate-like connection they have

or, wonpil, hear your consciousness out

it’s not a big deal, and in the scenario she doesn’t remember she fell asleep on the bus on another person

then you can just say hi like usual, and cut the string of fate there and then

(but does wonpil really want that?)

“hi”

oh crap she’s started it

wonpil braces himself for whatever outcome this interaction comes out to. he’ll let her speak, and tailor his response from there

“i’m sorry, this might be really weird but that’s your sweater, right?”

so she didn’t give her name, her major, anything substantial about herself but instead shoots wonpil a question

pointing at the sweater that’s draped on the seat in front of wonpil

wonpil doesn’t even check to look. he gulps, nods his head and squeaks, “yeah… why?”

something in her eyes flash by, almost like a glint of recognition

she puts a hand on her mouth, and wonpil can make out the faintest shade of pink blushing its way to her ears

it’s kinda cute

“did someone happen to… fall asleep on you on the bus coming to campus today?”

“... yes?”

“that was me” she buries her face even further into her hands, almost lowering down to the chair

wonpil thought she was gonna fall for some reason so he had to remedy the situation somewhat

“i.. i, um, did you have a good nap?”

great comeback

wonpil was so ready to leave the auditorium and never come back after the break

but he hears her giggle, and slowly come out of her shyness

and it’s a sweet sight, to finally see the way her cheeks look full of embarrassed laughter

as she twirls around a length of hair nervously

and taps the pen on the surface of her desk repeatedly

it was endearing, and wonpil forgets about why he was panicking in the first place

she then explains that she had work the whole day, and only had an hour to rest up before going to this 7pm class

wonpil listens intently, watching her mannerisms and the lilt in her voice when she continues to apologize for falling asleep on him without realizing it

“i’m not usually a deep sleeper, but work was exceptionally tiring today and i just needed at least a bit of shut eye” wonpil nods understandingly, almost worried about her health

“where do you work if you don’t mind me asking?”

“at the coffee shop a few blocks away from campus,” she answers, head tilting to the side “i’m still wearing my uniform for it… is it too obvious?”

wonpil didn’t even realize her black long sleeves was a cafe uniform

but it did explain her strong coffee smell

“something like that,” wonpil decided to say, curling his lips upward, feeling content and relieved at the turnout of events

for the 20 minute break, wonpil thought they’d reconcile over what transpired between them and mind their own business soon enough— even if he thinks it’s hard to do that now knowing something about her

which intrigues wonpil

and, quite frankly, he’d like to talk to her more

just so he has an excuse to watch her emotions paint her face beautifully

but there was a pause right after their short conversation

and in real Awkward Wonpil Fashion, he shows her the 30 page reading material, in all of its flimsy glory and starts asking questions about it

“so uh did you read the whole thing? i thought it was interesting up until the part that i dozed off”

and wonpil got his wish; he sees her eyes shine in surprise at his sudden attempt of an intellectual discussion

but she doesn’t deter him away

and actually, she’s read the whole damn thing. and wonpil was beyond amazed at the level of detail she explains to him about the parts he didn’t understand

he actually starts typing real notes while she was talking

this made her laugh in between her explanations, and wonpil didn’t understand what was so funny about

the fight or flight response

“it’s just. the way you’re typing this down so seriously, i’m sure the prof can explain it better”

wonpil shakes his head no, shakes it so much it hurt his temples

she laughs again, and he likes hearing that sound

“do you want to see what i’ve typed the past hour and a half of this class?’

“bet :p”

“actually nevermind” flashbacks of dsfkjsdjffdslkg ring true in wonpil’s mind as he quickly backspaces the nonsense in his notes

and the conversation continues from more psychology talks, to figuring out they’re in the same major but she’s a recent transfer student from last year

and had been juggling work and school since the start of her senior year

wonpil wonders why he hasn’t seen her in the coffee shop yet

he would have done a double take the first time meeting her there for sure

“oh you’re too kind,” she suddenly replies???

wonpil had said his thoughts out loud

without further embarrassing him, she says that she had only started working there since it’s more convenient for her; wonpil feels grateful she doesn’t dwell on the compliment any longer

alas, the break finishes and the droll of the professor’s voice reverberates throughout the room

this time, though, wonpil definitely feels more alert (awake enthusiastic) as the two of them exchange little comments about the class material

and before you know it, class is over and wonpil is an excited bunny. since they’re by the door they got to leave before everyone else

wonpil thinks it’s time to part ways… but this time they’re not fully strangers at all. they’re taking the same class, same major, they even know each other’s name.

surely this isn’t the last time, right?

“hey, wonpil…” he didn’t even realize that they have started walking towards the bus stop together

“hm?”

“i think i owe you one,” she starts, stopping her tracks to face him. eyebrows up in hesitation, wonpil waits for her to finish

“you know, for taking over your personal space for my own comfort”

“oh that? haha that’s nothing :)” honestly if wonpil can do it again he’d volunteer in a heartbeat

“no, really. let me make it up to you. coffee? on me? i make a mean cappuccino” she winks

it strikes through wonpil’s heart

no need for resuscitation.. yet

“or a matcha latte? whatever you’d like it’ll be on me”

“anything!” wonpil exclaims, suddenly realizing the offer being given to him, the excitement bubbling up inside him again. “i mean, anything you’d like to have me try. surprise me,” he corrects himself

that manages to have her grin widely, eyes twinkling in excitement similar to wonpil’s and he thinks

they can get along

they can get to know each other better this way

“would you be up to go for one now?”

“oh— oh! now?”

“yeah, that way none of us takes the risk of falling asleep back on the bus hehe”

well, he really wouldn’t mind that happening a second time

“really now, wonpil?”

andddd he exposed himself again

it’s fine, she tugs his hand slightly to lead him to the bus that has arrived and wonpil follows in a daze

it’s a little full, so they have no other choice but to stand and hold onto the railings above

“guess no falling asleep here…” she teases, and now wonpil can’t use his hands to hide his blushing face

but the feeling of her just close by

and the scent of coffee lingering in the air

in between them

just inches away from each other

it’ll do for now

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #kim wonpil scenarios #kim wonpil imagines #kim wonpil x reader #day6 fic #dot series #by:jiae

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shotgun--rider · 5 years ago

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Fake It Till You Make It - Three

A Sam x Reader Series

PART THREE

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3900

Warnings: plus size! Reader, fatphobic & diet comments, Y/N’s family are demons, allusions to drug use, cuddly Sam

A/N: We’re getting somewhere! Also, Tom the baker is based on a grocery store cashier from my childhood. She was about seventy and would always tell my mom she remembered when my mom was pregnant with me, and then comment that I was growing so fast and when was I getting married. The kicker was that my mom didn’t start shopping at that grocery store until after I was born. Shout out to Rosie.

In the cold light of day, waking up on the bedroom floor with a Sam Winchester-shaped octopus wrapped around you was a lot more panic-inducing than you’d expected. Then again, you’d somehow gone from one fairly innocent arm slung across your waist to being wrapped up and tucked against his chest, legs tangled up and Sam’s face mostly pressed into your neck.

You wondered briefly if he had enough room to breathe, immediately snapping at yourself that that was hardly the most pressing issue here. Your very fake boyfriend was using you as a human teddy bear and you had no idea how to escape, not without waking him. And waking Sam was very much not an option right now. As long as you somehow got out of this without his knowledge, you wouldn’t have to wade through the awkwardness or hear him try to politely tell you it meant nothing. You wouldn’t have to see the look on his face when he realized he’d snuggled himself up to--well, to someone like you. You’d heard it all before, of course, but hearing it from Sam would be infinitely worse.

Cursing silently to yourself, you glanced down at Sam to ascertain how deeply he seemed to be sleeping, your entire body tensing when you were met with one sleepy hazel eye already blinking at you. “Hi,” Sam mumbled into your hair, like this was completely normal.

“Hi,” you managed to squeak back, kicking yourself for not moving when you’d woken up in the middle of the night. This was what you got for thinking with the part of your brain that seemed to exist purely to drool over Sam friggin Winchester.

He seemed to suddenly notice how stiffly you were holding yourself, and raised his head to look at you, looking entirely non-threatening and far too sweet with his fluffed-up hair and the crease of the sheet you’d been sleeping on pressed into his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you returned dumbly, caught somewhere between get out get away run away now and continuing to stare at his face. “I don’t know, could you just...um...let...go?” you fumbled through, looking pointedly down at his arms banded around your stomach.

Sam looked like he was still half asleep, following your gaze in confusion for a moment before hastily pulling his arms away from you. “Sorry,”

You were scrambling up the second he let go, beating a hasty retreat to the bathroom without sparing a look for the man still sprawled out on the floor, scolding yourself for your idiocy the whole way. You went through getting ready almost angrily, berating yourself for getting into a situation that taunted you with what you couldn’t have and embarrassed you in the process. Still with the toothbrush clamped in your mouth, you grabbed your phone and shot off a text to Charlie: Who TF thought this was a good idea????

Her response was almost immediate. Good morning to you too.

You: Char I’m serious. Should have just brought you and said I was a flaming lesbian.

Charlie: Except for that you’re still totally into Sam

You: Not. Helping.

Charlie: You could always just tell him that.

You didn’t bother giving her a response, rolling your eyes in the mirror and putting your phone back down. Charlie had always been that way, relentlessly urging you to go for whatever it was, eternally confident that it would work out in your favor. Experience had told you it usually didn’t. And you didn’t even need past experience to know how “fat girl asks out the hot guy” ended.

Giving yourself one last look in the mirror, you steeled yourself to walk back out of the bathroom. The best option, of course, was just to ignore the morning’s situation, which you imagined Sam would be equally on board with. After all, it had to be at least a little awkward for him too, waking up curled around someone he thought of as basically family. Or at least that was what you were telling yourself.

Sam was already dressed when you reentered the bedroom, and you spared a second to firmly remind yourself that nothing productive would come out of you staring at his ass in a pair of jeans. He spun as soon as he heard the door open, a faint blush of color still on his cheeks. “Hey, Y/N, I--”

“So I need to go pick up a cake today,” you blurted before he could finish, “and flowers. Is it cool if we use your car?”

Sam stared at you uncomprehendingly for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowing up. “What? I didn’t--yeah. Okay. Do you want me to come?”

Somehow you’d made him look like a kicked puppy and this was not the morning you’d been aiming for. “Unless you’d rather stay here,” you arched an eyebrow dryly, trying for humor. “Get stared at by my family like a zoo animal,”

Sam’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he just shrugged. “I’ll come if you want,”

“Okay,” you returned briskly, using the excuse of grabbing your wallet to break up the sudden tension in the room and give you something to do.

The two of you made it downstairs without any major incidents, hastily skirting past the room where your Aunt Abaddon could be heard shrieking angrily, and you exhaled in relief when you finally made it out to where Sam’s car was parked on the driveway. He immediately went around to the passenger’s side, while you paused in front of the grill. “You don’t want to drive?”

He shrugged easily. “You know the area better than I do,”

Somehow, driving his car felt like more of an intrusion than it had when you were just driving up to the estate, but you sighed and climbed behind the wheel, wondering for the millionth time why anybody had ever thought this was a good idea. Just get over it, Y/N. You forced yourself to smile at Sam. “Florist first? So the cake doesn’t start melting?”

He still had a little bit of the kicked-puppy expression, but he nodded easily, turning to something on his phone while you pulled out of the drive. Way to go, Y/N. Is there anything you can’t fuck up?

The pickup from the florist went off without a hitch, and soon Sam’s backseat was stuffed full of sweet-smelling bouquets wiggling cheerfully with the movement of the car. Say what you would about Ruby, but she did know how to pick a good color scheme.

More pressing than the flowers, though, was the fact that Sam hadn’t said a word to you so far beyond what was necessary to load the bouquets without crushing them. You could feel his eyes on you when you were looking at the road, but he’d stayed silent for the entire drive to the bakery Ruby had ordered from.

You’d half expected to leave him in the car, but he followed you inside dutifully, standing a few steps off to the side while you gave Ruby’s name to the girl at the counter.

“Y/N!”

You winced, turning to greet the baker with a hopefully-genuine smile. He was a friend of your mother’s more than anyone, but he’d always been polite to you, if terribly pushy. “Hi, Tom. I’m just here for Ruby’s cakes,”

The big man looked over your shoulder with a wiggling eyebrow. “And when am I going to make yours, hmm?”

You stared at him, uncomprehending. “Sorry, make my what?”

“Your wedding cake!” he went on cheerfully. “This young man’s yours, isn’t he?”

“Uh,” you turned hastily to look at Sam, who reached for your hand with a swift, reassuring smile.

“Yes,” Sam answered for you, and you briefly considered the merits of stepping on his foot. You didn’t need to sell this lie to everyone in the tri-state area, for god’s sake. On the other hand, that would mean letting go of his hand, which you really didn’t want to do.

“I thought so!” Tom announced triumphantly. “What’s your name, son?”

Sam dropped your hand to reach over the glass display case and shake Tom’s. “Sam Winchester, sir,”

You blinked at the scene unfolding in front of you, wondering if it would be more or less painful to watch a train wreck in action. Of all people, of course you had to run into nosy old Tom. The conversation went on over your head for a few more minutes, with Sam explaining his law career briefly and then doing a lot of nodding and smiling and casually touching you while Tom went rambling on about seeing you as a small child with your mother.

You weren’t even sure what story he was telling, and given the fact that you only came up to Aunt Abaddon’s a few times a year at best, it was entirely possible he was mixing you up with some other mother and child. More than likely, in fact, since you found it hard to believe your mother would have ever taken you somewhere with a lot of calories and sugar.

“You’d better take good care of her, now.”

Sam’s hand slid to hover at your lower back. “Of course.”

You cleared your throat roughly, looking up at Tom. “So, uh, the cake?”

“Yes, yes, of course! Now, you just let your man there take care of this,” Tom slid three enormous boxes toward Sam, “and I’ll get you rung out,”

That would normally be a job for the cashier girl, but no one really ever bothered arguing with Tom. Handing over the car keys to Sam with an apologetic wince, you trailed over to the register, digging out your card in advance in the hope of making this fast.

“I like him,” Tom announced, pulling up the order sheet on a clipboard. He peered at you over the glasses on the end of his nose, studying you. “Why do you look awkward?”

“Uh,” you stuttered eloquently. “Well it’s just that Sam and I, we’re kind of...I mean it hasn’t been all that long, I just--” It’s fake. You wanted to scream. The whole thing is fake and he’s just being nice and I know that and I still want to keep him. Like, forever.

Tom’s eyebrow arched as he slid your card through the reader. “But you do know he’s in love with you, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard. “Oh, I don’t think--I mean, no?”

The old baker frowned, taking his time wrapping the receipt up around your card. “That’s how he looks at you.”

“O...kay,” you chirped out cheerfully. “Thanks Tom, bye Tom,” You scurried out the front door of the shop before he could yell anything else after you, breathing a sigh of relief that was immediately cut off in your chest at the sight of Sam, busy sliding flowers around in the backseat to make room for the cakes. That’s how he looks at you.

As if he’d somehow heard your thoughts, Sam paused in his wedding-themed backseat Tetris puzzle, looking up over the top of the car door at you and lighting up with the brightest smile you thought you’d ever seen on his face. Your heart clenched at the sight of him, and you wondered suddenly what the hell you were going to do when the wedding was over. God, I am so screwed.

“Sorry about Tom,” you said aloud instead, automatically taking one of the boxes out of Sam’s hand while he wrestled the plant he’d been supporting with his hip. “And sorry there’s so much crap in your car.”

Sam just chuckled, fitting the last of the cakes inside and carefully closing the door, lest he behead any of the bouquets. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N,”

“I still feel bad,” You weren’t sure if you were apologizing for commandeering his car or for everything else you’d messed up.

“Well, don’t,” Sam said stoutly, and that was that. He watched you get back into the driver’s seat, your hands on the wheel and a pout on your face. “What?”

Your nose wrinkled, your foot steady on the brake even though you knew you should be driving back. “I just realized how much I don’t want to go back,” you confessed. “I’m just whining, I know…”

Sam reached out, laying his hand on your shoulder easily. “Switch with me,” he said suddenly, making you blink.

“What?”

“Switch with me,” he repeated, his hand vacating your shoulder to hit the button releasing your seatbelt. “Let me drive,”

You had no idea where he was going with this, but you got out of the car anyway, doing some imitation of a two-person Chinese fire drill in Tom’s parking lot. While you settled yourself into the passenger seat, sparing a nervous glance for the flowers in the backseat, Sam pulled out of the lot, looked both ways, and promptly turned down the road leading directly away from your estate. “Sam,” you hissed out. “What are you doing?”

“Not taking you home?”

“Sam, if the cakes melt Ruby will kill me,”

“Well, they’re not ice cream cakes,” Sam said reasonably, reaching for the A/C dial. “There.”

“I haven’t been so concerned about anything since I babysat small children,” you said wryly. “God, I hope nothing dies,”

“They’re cut flowers, Y/N, they’re already dying,” Sam deadpanned, taking another arbitrary turn that put you even further from Abaddon’s.

You tilted your head at him, a laugh escaping you in spite of yourself. “Have you always been like this and I just didn’t notice?”

“You just listen to Dean talking about me,”

That was probably true, you reflected. Dean’s narrative of his brother, while undoubtedly very loving, boiled down to “nerd, lawyer, smart, goes for runs and doesn’t like bacon” most of the time. You didn’t answer immediately, just studying Sam while he drove fairly aimlessly, somehow leaving you lighter than you’d felt all day. “Seriously, though. Where are we going?”

Sam bit his lip briefly, turning to look at you with his forehead wrinkled in concern. “I don’t...know. I might be lost,”

You burst out laughing in the passenger seat, jerking forward so hard that the seatbelt’s automatic stop kicked in, holding you dangling against the belt while tears ran down your face. Sam pulled over on the shoulder, his eyes crinkled up as he watched you laughing at him, and when you finally straightened up and wiped your eyes, he was smiling fondly at you. “Why did I let you drive?” you asked dryly, before turning over your shoulder and glancing back down the road. “Okay, turn around and turn left at the first intersection,”

Sam followed your directions without question, and if you’d have been a bit bolder--and hadn’t had Ruby’s bridal bouquet in the backseat--you might have kept directing him straight to the interstate. As it was, you led him to the little park a few miles behind your aunt’s property, pointing out the window to the creek that was visible from the road.

“Meg fell in when we were kids,” you narrated, smiling vaguely at the memory. “I was twelve, it was Easter, and we got this brilliant idea to sneak away from dinner and go run to the creek. She just kind of tipped over,” you giggled softly as you recalled the day. “It was an early Easter that year, too, so of course the water was freezing.”

You shook your head. “Then she convinced me that Uncle Az was going to kill her for getting wet, so we snuck her upstairs to steal Abaddon’s hair dryer. We thought we could somehow dry her clothes, I don’t know. Anyway, my aunt found us, sitting on her bathroom floor in a puddle of creek water. That was the only time I’ve ever seen her laugh. She always liked Meg more,”

Sam had listened to you with rapt attention, and now he tilted his head in the direction of the park and its little creek. “Show me?”

You couldn’t deny the little rush of happiness up in your chest at the question, and you made a face at him over the top of the car as you both scrambled out. “If you get me wet I really will kill you, Sam Winchester.”

“Noted,” He jogged around the car, hopping over the curb to catch up with you, and stuck close to your side as you both walked through the grass. For a moment, you almost reached out to grab his hand, reminding yourself at the last second that you didn’t need to. No one was watching. You didn’t need to play the charade. And that was all it was, you reminded yourself firmly.

You reached the little creek a few minutes later, Sam sitting down on a boulder while you peeked down the sloped bank into the water. “Is that your favorite memory?” he asked after a moment.

“Probably, yeah,” you shrugged, trying to make it casual. “Most of the rest of them I was either getting blamed for something Ruby did or told to go on a diet.”

Sam frowned at you, reaching his hand out to you. You took it hesitantly, letting him pull you closer to his boulder without really knowing what he was trying to accomplish. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that, Y/N,” he said seriously, tugging on your hand gently again as you realized he was trying to get you to sit down with him.

“Don’t Sam, I’m too heavy,”

“You’re not,” Sam said firmly, pulling your hand just hard enough to unbalance you. You fell with a squeak, landing easily across his legs, and to your immense relief, nobody died. “See?” he smiled at you.

“Okay, you’ve proved your point, Mr. Lawyer,” you feigned a grumpy expression, trying not to give any attention to the butterflies that had decided to take up residence somewhere in your stomach.

“Good,” Sam murmured. He leaned his head briefly on your shoulder, and for just that moment, it felt like you were in your own little bubble, and everything was perfect. And then your phone rang.

“Y/N where the fuck are you? Did they fuck up the order or something?”

“No,” you said hastily. “No, everything’s fine. They’re all safe and sound in Sam’s backseat.” God, you really did sound like you were talking about children. Beside you, Sam was stifling a laugh and you elbowed his chest lightly.

“Okay so then where are you? Gramma wants to see the flowers,” Ruby snapped impatiently. “I figured you’d be able to get this done for me, Y/N.”

“Coming,” you sighed out, and Sam squeezed your free hand reassuringly. “We’re coming.”

“Did you stop for car sex? That’s gross.”

“No, Ruby,” you glanced at Sam. “We did not stop for car sex.”

Sam snorted, loud enough that Ruby definitely heard him. Figuring you’d gotten the necessary communication over with, you opted to just hang up before she could start shrieking again.

“That would be our cue,” you said wryly, hopping up off of Sam’s lap. Your foot came down on a half-buried rock as you shifted to standing, your ankle rolling sideways and your balance faltering.

Sam’s arms came around your waist just as you were pinwheeling your arms, preparing to take a dive into the creek. You yelped, hearing a reassuring laugh from Sam as he pulled you away from the edge of the creek bank. “I’ve got you. You did tell me not to let you get wet.”

Your adrenaline rush had melted into a fit of giggles, and you let Sam hang on to you on flat ground while you laughed, totally at ease. And right there you decided that even if it was going to suck when the wedding was over, at least you would have had this week. You followed Sam back to the car still laughing, and he didn’t let go of your hand.

Gramma Lilith was on the driveway when you finally pulled up, hands on her hips, white skirt billowing in the wind, and possibly more botox in her lips than the last time you’d seen her. “Took you long enough!” she was shouting before either of you had gotten a car door open. Not that it mattered; you could hear her shrill voice anyway.

You and Sam both hastened to the backseat, pulling out bouquets and potted flowers in an attempt to placate her. It only served to bring Ruby outside to stand beside her grandmother, both of them snipping at you while simultaneously complimenting Ruby’s choices. It made your head ache just listening to the two of them.

“Ruby, the cakes should go in the fridge,” you tried, holding the boxes out to her in the hope that it might motivate her to actually do something instead of watching you.

“So what are you waiting for?” your sister asked instead. You sighed, trekking into the house with the cake boxes and sliding them into the fridge, thanking the heavens for small mercies that there was enough room without having to also play Tetris with the food.

You got back out onto the driveway just in time to hear your grandmother turn her attention to Sam. “Are you where my salad went, boy?” she asked shrewdly, hands on her hips.

Sam froze, halfway out of the backseat with a pile of flowers in his arms. “Well,”

“Gramma,” you hurried to interrupt, but she wasn’t having it.

“I don’t care,” she went on, still looking at the moose-in-the-headlights. “But I do appreciate straight answers.”

Sam swallowed and straightened up, arms still full of purple flowers. “Yes ma’am. I was...hungry.”

You had been valiantly biting your lip through the entire exchange, but between his awkward reply and the look on your grandmother’s face, you burst out into a fit of giggles, diving into the backseat hastily to cover it up with more flowers.

Lilith humphed, her eyes flitting between you and Sam. “You don’t deserve someone like her,” your grandmother informed him, having evidently decided he was alright. And all of you knew that she meant it in that Sam deserved better than you, but he just smiled and caught up to you in front of the car.

“I know,” he said, and then he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, crushing the flowers between you as he wrapped an arm around your waist. It was surprisingly heady, tinged with desperation as Sam devoured your lips, tongue sliding and teeth clashing once in his haste. You were drunk on it, on him, reaching your free hand up to tangle in his hair as you rose up onto your tiptoes, trying to fight the height difference, your audience completely forgotten. No one had ever kissed you like that before.

And then Sam was pulling back, eyes almost black as he stared at you but somehow keeping his composure as he moved to finish taking the flowers into the house like he hadn’t just kissed you senseless.

Ruby and Lilith looked equally stunned at the display, and somewhere in the back of your brain, you remembered that that was why he’d done it, that it was all part of a show and that if you were a real couple, you’d have kissed plenty of times already. But as you stood speechless in the driveway, all you could really think about was him. There was no way you’d survive this wedding.

tags: @vicmc624, @thebookisbtr, @alicedopey

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #x reader #reader insert #supernatural #spn #series

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makaylajadewrites · 4 years ago

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Irresistible

Summary: The next few weeks continued on as they normally would. Work, home, occasional show, traveling to look at dead bodies — the usual. The tension between him and Derek had not subsided, and at this point, Spencer would dare call it uncomfortable and sexual, two words that shouldn’t often go together. But that was the only possible way he could describe it without getting into human sexuality and trapping himself in an infinite wormhole of endless conclusions and possible outcomes. He couldn’t do that to himself, thank the gods, else he would only suffer more.

Potential tws: Smut, angst

The next few weeks continued on as they normally would. Work, home, occasional show, traveling to look at dead bodies — the usual. The tension between him and Derek had not subsided, and at this point, Spencer would dare call it uncomfortable and sexual, two words that shouldn’t often go together. But that was the only possible way he could describe it without getting into human sexuality and trapping himself in an infinite wormhole of endless conclusions and possible outcomes. He couldn’t do that to himself, thank the gods, else he would only suffer more.

The girls didn’t seem to understand his apprehension. Of course they didn’t. They were straight women who saw Derek as a possible mate yet didn’t take into account that, as much as Spencer liked to be Bria Monique, he wasn’t Bria Monique. She was a character, a person he created as an outlet to release his pent up feminine energy and a healthy hobby. Nothing more. He was still Dr. Spencer Reid, but sometimes he liked to become Bria Monique and walk in her shoes for awhile. She was this beautiful, sexy woman that he could never be, and the woman that Derek desired but would never actually have. It was depressing, honestly, and Spencer felt somewhat disappointed now that he knew he could never be what Derek wanted.

Which was why he continued to distract himself from that. He found himself going to the club on nights he normally wouldn't go, and it wasn’t always to perform either. He spent time with people who knew him, who knew Bria, and it was nights like those that engraved moments of pure, beautiful intoxication within him that formed his identity and kept him inspired to seek that feeling of belonging again and again. Men who went to those clubs knew what they were getting themselves in to, and Spencer didn’t have to feel embarrassed or even in danger when, in moments of heated passion, hands would touch him without expecting female anatomy to meet them. They knew what he was, who he was, and he let himself be whisked away into the world of pleasure and desire where Derek could never fit.

Spencer acted as he normally would at work, busying himself with his normal duties yet confiding in the girls some of his issues. It was nice to have an active support system, and while Hotch and Rossi didn’t quite understand the girls’ newfound fascination for the youngest member of the BAU, they only regarded Spencer with their usual professionalism. Oh, if they only knew how gay their resident genius was…

They had a case that kept them away for nearly a week; a child killer, which was always the worst since it hit home for a lot of them, especially since most child killers were also pedophiles, and no child deserved to suffer something so vile. The flight back home after cases like this, especially ones that didn’t end well, were always silent, giving them all time to mourn the loss of a child they had not been able to save. They found the man’s residence, thanks to Reid’s narrowed down geographical profile and Garcia’s excellent skills behind the scenes, but they had been too late. The missing child had already been killed and was found in a shallow grave, meanwhile their killer was rewatching a video of the terrible things he had done.

Which was why, as soon as they had made it back, Spencer headed to one of his usual clubs out of drag, wanting to spend time with positive people and hopefully lift his mood so that he wouldn’t go home depressed and lonely. His fellow queens looked surprised to see him out of drag, but they welcomed him all the same and spent time with him until a handsome man managed to pull him away from the group, showering him with compliments and praises that no straight man - ahem, Derek - could ever give him. The gorgeous man, who introduced himself as Jayden, bought him a few drinks and they laughed and talked to each other with much interest, and despite Spencer’s multiple apologies for his occasional awkwardness and inane social skiers, Jayden didn’t seem bothered at all.

“It’s really cute, actually,” Jayden had said, pushing his dark, tight curls away from his handsome face, “You’re really cute.”

Jayden looked eerily similar to Derek though, and Spencer knew right away that the way they clicked almost instantaneously was just his own transference. He was struggling to come to terms with his own feelings for Derek, so instead of confronting his problems head on, he gave his feelings to someone else in return for the love and desire he craved from another person.

Jayden was such a nice man though. He was a year older than Spencer, but he carried a sense of maturity that Spencer didn’t often see in men his age. Most of the guys he talked to that were his age were still trapped in a childish mindset, which was often why Spencer was more attracted to men older than him. But Jayden was an exception. Oh, was he an exception. Jayden was African American, nearly six feet and six inches tall, with a body that nearly rivaled Derek’s. He had tight black curls piled atop his head in a messy, sexy style with an even, sleek fade. He had a full beard, but it was kept relatively short and groomed almost obsessively. It was clear that Jayden cared about how he looked and how others perceived him, and Spencer didn’t mind that at all. In fact, it seemed to encourage him to put more effort into his every day outfits. He learned to embrace his masculinity as much as his femininity — Jayden was a fan of his drag too, but it was special, because he thought he was beautiful in and out of it.

That night they met, they ended up leaving with each other’s numbers, and Jayden was quite the gentleman, making it clear that he didn’t want to talk to Spencer just as a hookup. He saw potential in him, and that was what made him realize that he was the man that Derek could never be for him. He was accepting, influencing even, and he wanted what was best for Spencer. So, with his heart light and his cheeks flushed, he headed home with positive thoughts. Jayden could help him forget about Derek. He wouldn’t have to worry about his attraction towards a sexually confused man when he had Jayden, who was firm in his sexuality and wanted Spencer just as he was.

The first date had been somewhat awkward, as they all are, and when Spencer dropped the bomb on Jayden that he was actually an FBI agent and a provable genius, he had expected him to be shocked and somewhat disturbed, but Jayden was actually amazed and fascinated with his career since it wasn’t everyday that a person got to meet a real agent. Much less a gay, drag queen one. Funny how labels made things seem more relevant than they really were.

Jayden was a graphic designer for a major business located right in D.C. He had a modest lifestyle that fit him well and made him appear that much more attractive. On just the second date, he had invited Spencer to come to his self-proclaimed bachelor pad where they made love on every surface, ranging from the living room sofa to the kitchen island to the shower. It was passionate, hot, and Spencer had never felt sexier in his entire life. He was cherished as a human being and Jayden’s lips touched almost every square inch of him until he couldn’t feel his skin anymore and his eyes were glazed with emotions he never had the privilege to experience before.

He had yet to break it to his team, however, that they had been together for nearly four months now, since Jayden had asked him out officially the morning after their night of passion. He was elated and responded cheekily with, “I thought last night was proof of that.”

He was happy, believe it or not. Jayden made him happy, but at work, he couldn’t escape those longing gazes from Derek or the gentle persuasions from the girls to talk to him. He had hoped they would have forgotten about that by now, but girls like their gossip and they remembered it like a code. Which was why he had to break it to them eventually, but he hadn’t expected it to go like this.

“Hey, Morgan!” Prentiss called over. They were all gathered in the break room before work, Spencer preparing his diabetes-inducing coffee while Garcia and JJ stood nearby, teasing their Boy Wonder for his sugar obsession. He looked up quickly when Morgan complied and approached the team, that little swagger in his hips as he walked and a growing smirk curling his perfectly kissable lips upwards… Spencer was fucked.

“What’s up?” He said, the slightest shift in his arm catching Spencer’s attention as his shirt sleeve rolled up just a tiny bit and seemed to accentuate the bulge of his bicep. Goddamnit!

“What do you think about Spence?” JJ decided to butt in, Penelope regarding her with a wide eyed expression only to look back to the group with an ever increasing interest.

“Pretty Boy?” Morgan said with that same smirk, though it was slightly disturbed by the growing confusion mixed with panic on his face. Spencer nearly shivered at the nickname though, hazel eyes shyly meeting Morgan’s face as his hand ruffled up his already messy waves, in a typical brotherly manner. But they all knew there was more to it than that.

“Yeah,” Penelope said with a growing smile, hesitant but definitely there, “As in… dating Spencer.”

There was a moment of silence that smothered them all, Spencer’s eyes wide as he choked on the sip of coffee he took and pounded a fist against his chest so that he could breathe because fucking Penelope.

The women looked back and forth between the two men, an expression of growing panic taking residence on Derek’s handsome face as he struggled to find words. He was conflicted, and of course he found Spencer attractive, especially after that night in the club, but he couldn’t be attracted to Pretty Boy. He was awkward, gangly, mysterious, slender, sexy, fuck!

“I…” he started, but Spencer didn’t give him any time to respond, quickly speaking up and letting the new information settle in their brains:

“I’m seeing someone,” he said, looking surprised at his own boldness but not backing down. It was too late now, and he couldn’t take it back, because they were already looking at him with wide eyes, slack jaws, and fanfuckingtastic, Rossi and Hotch had walked in at the exact moment he said it. The two older men shared a brief glance towards each other, but decided not to speak.

“O-Oh… Well… Congratulations!” Penelope finally chirped to dispel the horrifying awkwardness, a smile curling her plump lips upwards as Spencer smiled back, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

“What’s their name?” JJ pestered, and Spencer spared a glance towards Morgan, and he could die after seeing the obvious dismay building up in his tightening face muscles. Damn… He had ruined everyone’s day, it seemed. Spencer frowned and was about to dismiss the conversation entirely since they all had work to do, but even Hotch and Rossi seemed interested now.

“Um…” Spencer started, burying his face in his coffee for a second before speaking quietly, “Jayden… His name is Jayden.”

“Last name? If someone’s dating our Boy Genius, I’m going to have to run a full background check,” Garcia said protectively, her arms crossing over her bust as if she was firm in her statement, and Spencer regarded her with furrowed brows.

“…Foster,” he murmured quietly after a bit of hesitance. He was uncomfortable and he quickly excused himself, leaving the break room in a flurry of emotions and nerves. The remainder of the BAU looked at each other quietly, and while the girls spared glances towards Morgan, he was the second to go, acting as if nothing had ever happened. In fact, they all acted that way, and carried on as if it were any normal day. But without even being discreet, Penelope sent them all (excluding Spencer) pictures of the two that she had found on Jayden’s and Bria’s Instagrams, exclaiming how cute they were together. They were still somewhat disappointed that it wasn’t Morgan alongside Reid, but they got over it almost immediately since Spencer appeared to be happy.

That night, Spencer went home anxious, upset, and embarrassed. His entire life had been put on full blast for all of his colleagues to see, and while he knew Garcia only meant the best, it was still a breach of his privacy. But he wouldn’t tell her that. She along with the rest of the team wanted what was best for him, but he would never forget the expression on Derek’s face when Spencer revealed he was in a relationship. In fact, Derek was the only thing he could think of, and all day, he struggled to get the other man out of his head.

So he invited Jayden over, who instantly agreed. They had takeout Thai together, watched some cringey reality show that Jayden thought was absolutely hilarious, and Spencer finally invited Jayden to spend the night with him. He was surprised by his partner’s outgoingness, since Spencer wasn’t usually the type to initiate things between them, but he didn’t question the typically submissive man. If anything, he found it attractive.

“Shower?” Spencer asked as the show came to an end, leaning his head on the other man’s shoulder and glancing up at him through thick lashes, seemingly innocent. Jayden smiled and kissed his forehead.

“How could I turn that down?” He flirted effortlessly, taking Spencer’s hand and leading him into the bathroom.

They made a show out of getting undressed, giggling together and meeting lips over and over again until they stumbled into the shower together, basking in each other’s presence under the warm rain. They washed each other, Jayden scrubbed Spencer’s hair which he expressed on numerous occasions how much he loved, and kissed again until Spencer began to grow impatient, his lips breaking from Jayden’s and traveling further down his jaw, his neck, stopping just over his collarbones where a small hickey was left in his wake. He found his legs lowering though, and soon enough, he was kneeling in the shower, a hand around Jayden’s half hard cock and his eyes playful.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me, baby,” Jayden said with a chuckle, although it quickly turned into a deep groan as Spencer took him into his mouth, stroking what he couldn’t fit down his throat with his hand and bobbing in a timely matter. His muffled gags were an incredible turn on though, and Jayden’s hand entwined itself in his lover’s messy locks to pull him off.

“Bedroom?” Spencer questioned as if it were a normal conversation, rising to his feet with Jayden’s guidance and kissing him again, and the two moved as one into Spencer’s connected bedroom, collapsing on the bed in a mess of limbs. Spencer was pushed down into the mattress and his long legs spread instantly for his lover to fit between them, and Jayden took advantage of that, grinding their hips together as their mouths slotted together and their tongues danced in a slippery waltz.

“Oh, God…” Spencer breathed as Jayden began to worship his neck, leaving dark lovebites along the way down and burying his face in Spencer’s shoulder as his hands slid down his hourglass form, taking in the beauty of a person whose masculinity and femininity combined into a perfect blend of human that went beyond traditional gender roles. This individual was perfect, no matter if they were Spencer Reid or Bria Monique. That was the beauty of love, perhaps.

“So pretty, Spencer…” Jayden murmured in response as he slid down and kissed over Spencer’s hips and naval, avoiding his manhood and moving on to bury his face in between his supple cheeks, tongue tracing the puckered pink cavity lewdly as moans fell from Spencer’s lips like honey. His eyes were closed, head fallen back on the pillow and his hands rested over his chest, moving over his pectorals and thumbs occasionally brushing over his nipples to keep up the stimulation.

Jayden pulled back after a few minutes, and Spencer reached into his bedside table to fetch the lube and a condom, which Jayden took eagerly. He coated his fingers generously in the lube, pushing in one, then two and, when Spencer had overcome the initial pain of the two thick digits inside of him, three. He pumped them in and out, admiring his beautiful lover’s expressions. Spencer’s eyes stayed closed, but pleasure fluttered over his features constantly, nearly exploding when Jayden’s fingers brushed over his prostate.

When Spencer was ready, Jayden sat up on his knees, rolling the condom down his length and wasting no time in filling the emptiness of Spencer’s body. Spencer’s back arched sharply up off of the bed, a moan of satisfaction passing his lips as Jayden bottomed out after a few seconds of adjustment and angling. Jayden leaned down and kissed over his lover’s jaw, and once Spencer’s breathing had evened out, he began a smooth rhythm.

It didn’t last long, however. Spencer kept his eyes shut, imagining it were someone else above him, holding him inside of him and getting lost in the vivid fantasy while Jayden believed that the man beneath him was responding to him. In truth, Spencer was aroused because another man resided in his conscious, sliding in and out of his tightening channel as his climax neared.

“I’m so close, baby… You’re so sexy…” Jayden said above him, but Spencer didn’t hear Jayden’s voice. He heard Derek’s and Derek’s alone. His hot breath, heavy exhales, caramel skin pressing into his own alabaster. It was supposed to be beautiful, but it shattered when he came with Derek’s name on his lips.

“Oh, Derek…!” He had cried as he spilled over his stomach, but his partner immediately froze and that was enough to wake him from the delusion. Jayden looked down at him, horrified, face twisting into an expression of both anger and betrayal, hurt pulling his usually smiling lips downwards. Spencer’s eyes opened, and he looked up towards Jayden, not at first realizing his mistake only for the horror to build up on his own face. Jayden’s hands loosened over his hips until they were gone completely.

“Derek?” He repeated, dark eyes both saddened and angered as he instantly assumed his lover was cheating on him with another man. But Spencer was quick to scramble up, even though Jayden was already sliding off of the bed and standing up, still naked as he paced and turned to Spencer, hurt.

“Who’s Derek, Spencer?” He asked, strong arms crossing over his firm chest as Spencer sat on his knees, evidence of his own shameful orgasm sticky on his abdomen.

“Jayden, it’s not what you think, I—“

“Of course it isn’t. Of course it isn’t. I should have known you were just a whore.” Jayden shook his head, picking up his clothes in the bathroom and beginning to get dressed. Spencer gathered his shaking limbs and followed after him, leaning in the bathroom doorway and trying to figure out a way to explain the situation.

“Please, Jayden, if you just let me explain—“ Jayden pushed past him without hesitation, and Spencer stumbled back against the dresser, the corner digging into his hip rather painfully, but not bad enough for him to ignore the angry man storming through his house.

“No, there is no explaining, Spencer! You said another man’s name while I was fucking you! Are you serious?” He exclaimed, throwing his arms out to the side while Spencer shrunk back, as if making himself appear smaller but ultimately realizing just how badly he had messed up. Tears welled in his eyes and he just lowered his head, his bottom lip trembling miserably.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered shakily.

“Unbelievable,” Jayden said in response, “Have a nice life, Spencer.”

Spencer was left alone in that moment, and he crumbled. He slid down the side of his dresser, his long legs curling close as he cried into his knees, his hands burying themselves in his dark hair. He had ruined the only good thing he had going for him because of Derek. This was all his fault. Had he not came into his personal life and jumbled everything up, Spencer wouldn’t be in this mess. He would still have Jayden and Jayden would be making love to him just as they had been moments before. Instead, he was here, wallowing in his sorrows as he came to the realization that he was in love with a straight man and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change that.

Yet despite it all, this horrendous turmoil that was shaking his life to its very core, Derek was the one constant. He was there, living in his mind filling him with senses of desire that he didn’t know how to deal with. It was painful, hard, and all he could do was weep.

In a twisted, somewhat vengeful way, Spencer hoped that Derek was feeling pain too.

<-Part 2: Girls’ Night | Part 4: Only You->

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds writing #spencer reid #derek morgan #moreid #drag queen Spencer Reid

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eisforeidolon · 5 years ago

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Episode: Peace of Mind

Hey, remember how Castiel can reach into people's chests and grope their souls? No? Not even a mention of why it can’t possibly work on nephilim? Oh, okay, let's just let the ridiculously overpowered and possibly soulless Winchester-wannabe wander around in limbo about having a soul despite a canonical way to check. Why the fuck not?

Also, expecting me to give a fuck about Sam mourning some nobodies from AU world who didn't even have names except the joke that was Maggie just shows what absolute emotional dunces the current writers are. You never showed us any relationship there beyond, at best, being Sam's interchangeable flunkies! Jared can act his little heart out trying to sell this (and he did), but I have more emotional investment in the loss of that lamp Dean broke that one time.

But anyway, Sam’s trauma over a bunch of cardboard is the excuse for him wanting to be anywhere but the bunker this week, and some bullshit nonsense conversation between Cas and Dean is why Sam goes off with Cas instead of Dean. Because the show needs more of Castiel's tryhard motivational speeches, apparently. I kind of feel like maybe this episode started out with Sam and Dean on the case and then got changed partway through? There are a few of the jokes that are pretty clearly Castiel jokes – like when everything comes to a standstill in the diner over him loudly saying something appalling and stiltedly talking about the content of the love letters. However, a few of them, like the pop culture reference, seem far more like things Dean would say and just make it feel kind of blatant how badly Cas has been transposed in for reasons.

Reasons possibly being the writers suspected some of us might fast-forward through a Castiel & Jack B plot? Except Castiel spending more time with Jack and being shown as more attached to him would better serve the story they're actually going to tell later this season. That would apparently overflow the quota Dabb apparently set for continuous minutes Dean and Sam can interact, though, so. I wonder if, since his major change after Carver (besides everything getting worse) is less brother-fighting he thinks the Winchesters should spend no time together if there can't be potential world-ending dramaz? Yes, stories do need conflict but that's not what that means.

Look, Dean's actually my favorite, but I feel like nothing of value would be lost if we cut basically everything from this episode with him and Jack. No knock against Jensen or Alex, but the dumb stilted conversation about snakes and bacon? The ridiculous use of Yellow Fever in the previouslies when he was literally under a fear-inducing supernatural affliction to justify making Dean afraid of snakes now because ha fucking ha? The angel food/devil food thing - somebody actually wrote that and thought it wasn't so deeply embarrassing they should change their name and move to Alaska to never write fiction again!

Even the whole thing with Donatello (which I have a sneaking suspicion is the only reason they bothered to bring him back) is kind of dumb. Remember how Donatello is the exception and not the rule when it comes to soullessness? How all those other people went bugfuck when their souls were taken by Abaddon or Amara (this show really really believes in recycling). Even putting that aside, Donatello is soulless, which at best, means completely not giving a fuck - so he’s the guy you go to for advice? Not even to mention how absolutely tryhard the whole What Would (the) Winchesters Do WWWD thing was. Ew. The final cap on it being that I am really fucking tired of every latest potential threat being OMG TEH MOST POWAHFUL IN TEH UNIVERSE!!! Suddenly Jack's a potential antagonist again so we're back to it being him instead of Michael instead of Lucifer instead of Amara instead of Rowena instead of …[loud snoring].

I did actually appreciate that for once it was Sam in the weird goofy costume episode playing up the 50's camp. Those kinds of obvious gags pretty much always go to Dean, and I do like it when they at least switch things around so it's not just variation 100 on the same old theme. Also Castiel commenting in his typical matter-of-fact about Sam's beautiful hair did make me laugh a little.

Seems pretty typical Cas mistakes the daughter as the one doing the brain exploding because he misses what a human cue it was she was trying to get him out of the town to save him instead of trying to keep him there if she was crazy enough to be running not!Pleasantville. As a case, I think this part of the episode works okay. Not the best ever, not the worst ever, and Jared clearly had fun with the playacting of Sam being brainwashed into 50s husband dude.

Not entirely thrilled by some random guy developing the power to control a whole town with his brain out of nowhere midway through his life (as well as literally throw people and angels). Most of the other characters we've seen with that kind of power got it from somewhere. Though I'll grant that we didn't exactly get the dude's entire pedigree and it seems like his daughter inherited some serious power, too, so maybe he just didn't know there's psychic monster in his family tree.

Really the thing that doesn't work for me in this episode with the Sam & Cas plot is less any of the individual bits and more how clearly it is what the writers were trying – and for me, ultimately failing – to do. In the early seasons with better writers, they did a lot of episodes like this where what happens in the MotW plotline illuminates what's going on with the characters in the larger story and they were really trying to do that with Sam here. But the literal amnesia and Cas' big speeches and some dude brainwashing a whole town to avoid his personal sad and another instance of a character having a variant of AKF shoved awkwardly into their mouth hole? The kind of character work they were trying to do is not well served by just dropping anvils on the audiences' heads.

The part with Dean and Sam at the end was actually fairly enjoyable – of course Castiel tattled and of course Dean takes the opportunity for teasing. If we've seen this same realization about how you can't outrun things in your head a million times already, well, with the Winchester's lives I honestly can't blame them for still hoping that somehow it will work this time.

Then the episode ends with Castiel witnessing the snake incident and keeping it to himself because he's somehow hardwired to make the wrong decision in literally every possible circumstance these days. Yay.

#spn 14x15 #spn season 14 #writer incompetence #negativity for ts #long post

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itsbuckysworld · 6 years ago

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HELLO SPRING DAY 9

Pairing: Bucky x reader basically. Category: College-ish!AU Warnings: SO FLUFFY! Word Count: 1.6K Guest Appearance: Steve, mentions of Sam, a lot of made up names.

Summary: Bucky will never forget his first kiss and his first crush. Specially not now.

Day 9: First Kiss/ Last Kiss , for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

His hands are sweaty, he’s ran them over his jeans what feels over a hundred times by now. He’d told Steve time and time again that they should have stayed home playing Doom, he even promised he’d tell Steve how he always beat him at Mario if they had just stayed home, being the nerds they were, but no. Steve was too excited to have been invited to Stephanie Johnson’s party and he refused to believe it was because Steve had definitely grown taller and leaner over the summer, lost the braces too, and now every girl seemed to have a slight crush on him. It was like he was the new kid all over again.

Stephanie’s house was nice, and way too big for such a crowd. Plus they weren’t even supposed to be there. Everything felt like out of those movies his older sister watched. Steve had abandoned him some time ago, when Lillian Clark had pulled on his hand to go to the back where the 8th grade basketball team was, and Bucky found himself copying a decorative plant.

It’s not like Bucky didn’t like parties, what he didn’t like were the crowds of people he didn’t know and had no idea how to even begin to talk to. There was a reason he was considered a nerd, and so far he liked that. Again his palms felt sweaty. Him being a nerd didn’t exempt him from having crushes and wanting this: maybe a semblance of popularity and a good social life. But his awkward stance, lack of involvement in athletics and chubbier cheeks didn’t exactly make a good combination for ‘king of the prom’. He was okay with that, he had his own interests and talents and skills that didn’t make him shine like a supernova in the hallways of school, but maybe some other places.

His hands were sweaty because he’d been beckoned over to a game of 7 minutes in heaven mixed with spin the bottle, and the whole scenario played like slow motion in his eyes, him taking the tentative steps to join the circle sat on the living room floor, almost directly in front of Y/N Y/L/N, better known as the girl of his 12 year old dreams and fantasies.

Rounds came and went, most of the girls exploding in giggles when Aaron Carter and Leonard McGuire got paired to go in the closet together, but Bucky wasn’t paying much attention, all his little boy eyes could focus on was Y/N. Her plaid skirt and cute half up-do, a hint of glitter on her cheeks, laugh bright like the sun. He wiped his palms on his jeans one last time before reaching out and spinning the bottle when his turn came around. He didn’t know what to wish for; for the bottle to land on Y/N or someone else so he’d be spared the embarrassment of having to talk to her or worse: her being his first kiss? She’d probably had tons of kisses by now, and he’d be so inexperienced in comparison!

Whatever, he didn’t get enough time to even decide what to wish for, when the bottle came to a stop right in front of her. Giggles, ooh’s and aah’s erupted, along with surely come sour comment about Y/N having to go to the closet with a nerd, but all Bucky saw was the pep in her walk as she got up and extended her hand for him to take as he got up and followed her to the closet.

He turned the light on, hearing the laughter on the other side that indicated people were right outside, keeping the door closed until the 7 minute mark, no more, no less.

He stuttered, where to even begin? Did he have anything in common with her? Maybe telling her he sat right behind her in both Chemistry and Math would sound too creppy, right? So he did the most rational thing: outstretched his hand for her to shake and introduce himself. “Hi. I-I’m Bucky” her giggle was out of this world cute, and her hand really soft in his. “I know. I’m Y/N” of course she knew. Y/N was nice, nicer than anyone he’d ever met in school – well Steve was nice too, but that was different. Y/N was nice and pretty and smelled good and always gave him a soft smile on her way to her seat in Chemistry and Math –

The silence ate up around 2 minutes of their time in the closet. Two minutes Bucky spent silently stressing over how red his cheeks must be and how he’s so far only introduced himself unnecessarily and complimented her outfit. Her skirt swished along with her as she took in her surroundings, clearly not wanting to continue this awkward encounter, he thought.

And then the silence was broken. By her. With a shocking question “A-are you... Do you want to kiss me?” all Bucky could do was nod stupidly, because of course words would betray him now. He wanted to kiss her, really really badly. Her smile was tender and sweet as she leaned in a little, closing her eyes and softly puckering her lips, awaiting for him to meet her in the middle.

It took him a total of 5 seconds to tell himself it was now or never, and then his blue eyes were closed and he pressed his lips to her incredibly supple ones, the array of butterflies that ate him whole, something he could never explain.

The peck lasted about 10 seconds, and separating from her was so nerve wracking, he doesn’t know how he didn’t begin shaking like an earthquake right then. “I’m sorry” he felt compelled to say “I’ve… I’ve never… Uh” Why was he outing himself like this? Setting himself up for mockery and embarrassment? “Me too” she said with a blush to her cheeks he knows he will never forget, as well as the shock of the revelation. He was her first kiss too? No way, he quickly decides she’s just trying to be nice. Right?

She’s his first and second and third and fourth kiss, if you’re counting, as they had 3 minutes left that were spent kissing every way two naive 12 year olds knew how to. Sweet, short pecks, with varying head angles and varying lengths, and a riskier one with mouths half open, initiated by her because she’d seen her older brother kiss his girlfriend like that once.

By the time the door was opened they were just standing there, mute and blushy, and the swarm of giggling teen girls took Y/N away from him like a lightning bolt, Bucky knew that the events of that night would be in his memories forever and ever. His crush on her only growing from that moment on.

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

He’s snapped back from the shock-induced flashback when a body bumps into his in the middle of the frat house kitchen he was currently standing in. His mouth, that had dropped open in surprise at what his eyes were seeing, clamped back shut, the drink in his hand almost slipping and clattering to the floor.

My god, it was Y/N Y/L/N in the flesh.

Still fucking gorgeous, maybe even more so – impossible! Fucking impossible, yet so possible because it was right there in front of him – His biggest crush, his first kiss, the girl he pined after for years and years and years, even when she had moved towns and obviously switched schools in 8th grade, Bucky had promised himself that he would never love anyone like that – and proceeded to get himself his first girlfriend mid freshman year of high school despite still slightly crushing on the distant memory of Y/N. Steve always joked Y/N could have been his first girlfriend if he’d only had the balls to do something about it, to which Bucky agreed when it was too late –

“Bucky?” she said when she spotted him. “Bucky Barnes?” “Oh, god” He said, both faces splitting into laughter as her arms swung around his shoulders, enveloping him in a hug he returned, swaying back and forth with her. “Y/N it’s been… wow” “So long! You go to MIT too?” “Yeah, you go here!?” “I do! Art and design, sophomore year” she points to herself with the same red cup that is holding her drink. “Civil Engineering major, sophomore year!” each sentence brought in more and more shock. She was there all along? And he’d never seen her? Until a random party at Sam’s – Steve’s new addition to the gang which had always consisted of just him and Bucky – frat house? “What? Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you! You look great” And he did. Joining football and gaining some social skills did that to you. Also growing somewhat of a beard and keeping his hair just the right length. The truth was Bucky didn’t have trouble with girls anymore. “You too!” and god did she look amazing. The skirt, plaid like back then and almost out of his deepest dreams, with stockings and boots and a crop top, could she be anymore the girl of his dreams? “Steve is here too?” She looks around, probably remembering that the two are a package deal ever since diapers. “He’s… around, lost him long ago” he chuckles and some girl tugs at her arm from behind. She sends her away with a promise that ‘i’m going i’m going! Chill’ and turns back to him, giving him all her attention in the middle of the loud and crowded kitchen, making his heartbeat race. “Hey, tell him I said hi, and, here” she’s fishing the pocket of her skirt for her phone which prompts him to do the same. Oh god he’s going to have Y/N Y/L/N’s phone number? 12 year old him is s h a k i n g. “We have to meet and catch up” “Definitely” after contacts are exchanged, she’s pressing a loud kiss to his cheek as a goodbye and disappearing into the party, leaving him stunned into place, a goofy smile slowly growing on his face

God damn, it’s been 7 years and he’s right back to square one, back to being a twelve year old nerd, at a party, with sweaty palms at the thought that he’s definitely crushing on her once again, if he ever even stopped.

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!!

how cute is this reencounter?!?!?!? Also, let me know if you want to know her POV of this whole thing because I was thinking that’d be a nice little take for me to write, to see how much seeing Bucky Barnes again affects her. Hint: a lot, she wasn’t lying, he was her first kiss too.

#IBW: Hello Spring 2019 #ibwhellospringday9 #bucky barnes x reader #college!au #first kiss #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #fanfiction #au

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slasherkisss · 6 years ago

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Cabin Fever - Jason Voorhees x Reader [Chapter 2]

Summary In an effort to remove yourself from your previous life in the big city, you move to Crystal Lake. The cabin you had inherited from your father makes the perfect place for a fresh start, however, there is a secret in these woods (and within yourself) that you must come to accept…and to love.

A/N A second chapter up now! The reader meets Jason for the first time on a snowy walk and, well, things go...less than expected for either of them.

Autumn faded to winter, which came and went before you could register its mere existence. You had contented yourself with tidying up for the first few weeks, clearing away snow from your yard and unpacking the majority of your knick knacks to organize vagrantly around your home. You had stocked up on firewood to keep yourself warm throughout the snowy days, lived off of canned vegetables and you made a silent promise to yourself that, when the snow calmed itself down and the roads were deemed drivable yet again, you would head to town and procure some fresh meats and fruits when you had the chance. While the idea of removing yourself from the isolation of the forest was anxiety inducing above all other emotions, you knew that it was necessary. Just until you were capable of rebuilding the home you were slowly chewing through to its original, self-sustained glory of gardens and animals meandering about your legs. All good things took time, you had remembered your father’s words echoing in your heart, and hard work. They would be worth it, though.

Your eyes traced the droplets of snow that fell, the beginning of a second bought of storms slowly making their way through the Crystal Lake area. Snow had fallen early this year, you noted, starting in the middle of November just after your move and continuing on without reprieve until the middle of December.

Your body ached with the need to stretch. To stand and walk and enjoy the peace so close to you in the form of frosted forest trees and nipping wind. The bite of the cold helped to remind you that you were alive and well, constantly needing to move and shift in order to be kept warm and free of the hypothermia that dared nip close to your heels. It was because of this aching need that constantly sung its cravings in the peripheral of your mind that you found yourself slowly sliding on your snow boots and parka, fingers wiggling into gloves while you made sure the layers of shirts along with the long scarf you wore underneath remained in position. You had scarcely recalled getting dressed for the cold until you found yourself standing outside of your home, eyes fixated on the endless forest before you.

With one last fleeting look to your home, you gave a nod to yourself before pushing forward into the misted woods.

Each step crunched as your weight pushed against the snow, most of it fresh and having never been stepped on before. There was a sense of pride in being the one to christen it with your heavy set boot, finding yourself walking as carefully as you could. If the snow was alive somehow, as you felt all things were in one way or another, you didn’t want to hurt it. Perhaps it was a silly thought to most people but here, now, who was there to judge you for it? The freedom to think so openly about life caused a sense of prideful delight to fill your stomach as you walked carefully against the forest path, weaving between ice stripped trees and avoiding stepping on any rocks and roots that just stuck up against the inches of snow piling up around you. Your breath decorated your front like a pixie, helping you to push forward and constantly singing to you to follow it. Your mind could just hear the voice in your ears, jingling like wind chimes as it whistled to you.

This way...this way! The forest is beautiful this way…

Your pace picked up. You found yourself nearly skipping through the woods, a laugh bubbling on the tip of your tongue and spilling forward as you broke soon into a run, the cold air burning your lungs as you wove between the trees. You spun to doge some. You twirled to dodge others. You shifted to avoid rocks and ducked to avoid fallen logs. The snow seemed to pick up with your excitement, twirling and dancing around you as if it were indulging in your laughter with you. As if it was playing with you as well. You paid no attention to where you ran or how fast you went, simply having the urge to move forward and focus on the path ahead of you, not daring to look back or follow the traces of what was.

Faster, you urged yourself, and faster and faster and faster and-

You skidded to a stop, your lungs aching and begging you to let them catch themselves a breath. Each inhale felt like a stab to your throat as you panted, open mouthed, trying to gather up as much oxygen as possible in the moments you froze. Leaning over, your gloved hands found your bent knees and you took a few seconds to compose yourself, eyes closed so that you could feel nothing but the droplets of snow landing on your heated skin and melting away within mere seconds of touch. You took in the air, the snow below you, and the feeling of cold nipping at your nose for a few moments for heaving yourself upwards to stare at where you had ended up.

The sight of Crystal Lake greeted you in return, the entirety of its top frozen over and sparkling like glitter in the sunlight. The tree line on the other side was spattered with greens and whites and some reds from the remains of stubborn leaves still clinging to certain trees. The untouched snow on the docks and the lake was something out of a painting or fairy tale booklet. It looked so untouched. So undiscovered. It made sense, considering that Crystal Lake was mostly popular in the summer along with no one wanting to particularly visit it when such murders and legends hung around it like a cloud of morbid fog at a constant rate. It was sad to think that no one had ever enjoyed this view as much as you had, but, also it was exciting to know that you were the only one who ever did. That you were the only one here, now, to enjoy this secret nature had offered you.

At least, you had thought you were the only one.

You turned away after casting a lingering look at the frozen lake, deciding it best to find your way back to your cabin before night fell and it had gotten any colder. As you did so, your eyes met with a sight that made you still in your movements, feet cementing themselves to the ground while your heartbeat hammered loudly in your chest, stomach curdling like spoiled milk as the sweat on your brow grew more from surprise than from your previous marathon.

He stood-no- towered before you with a frame well touching the 7 feet mark. A height beyond any human you’ve ever met. His frame was broad, taking the length of a whole tree (maybe two) as it heaved with an apparent effort of breathing. As if his lungs did not have enough capacity to fully fuel the oxygen intake he needed. What was most striking about him, however, was his face. It was the face you had seen not weeks earlier in your first week in the area. A mask, white but cracked in several spots, covered a face that was dull gray in coloration. The straps held onto the head like a parasite, almost growing into the flesh where bits of hair attempted to grow but made it only a certain length before tapering away to nothingness. Bits of ice had formed on both his clothes and mask, a likely result from the cold surrounding you both, but he didn’t seem to shiver at it.

The silence was thick between the both of you, forming a film of discomfort that sat like a raw yolk atop a warm beverage, obscuring the reality of what was underneath it in favor of moderate unease. You felt your breaths come in short, attentive sort of gasps. As if your mind didn’t quite want you to breathe too deep or too heavy, least it attract a negative attitude from the man you almost immediately knew the identity of as you shared eye contact with one another.

The boy who had drowned in the lake over sixty years ago was still here, now, in the visage of a man who smells faintly of ice water and moss. Who matched the forest in stillness and unknown hostility as he towered unmoving before you. The legends and various murder cases you had heard take place throughout the area had all clicked into place for you now, your mind understanding the links with this single meeting yet...for some reason...you did not feel completely scared. Startled? Perhaps, but, who wouldn’t be if you turned to see someone so large so suddenly sneaking up on them? The teenagers he had killed in the past were fooling around, undoubtedly, in the quiet of the abandoned camp they were sure they were alone in. If a group of horny strangers fucked on your front steps, you’d certainly raise a fuss about it yourself.

You had shown no signs of debauchery to him yet, and that was the only reason you were still alive at this point you were sure. He was staring at you, hollowed eyes boring into your soul. Your stomach swelled with something...something you couldn’t put a finger on. It crawled like a parasite up your esophagus and died on the tip of your tongue as you watched him take one large, careful step towards you. The words you spoke next were unplanned as you blurted them as fast as you possibly could:

“You look cold!”

He stopped in his movements, as if the force of your words had startled him. His head tilted, a sign of disbelieving curiosity that you could feel emanating from his personage. A blush of embarrassment heated up the already rosy areas of your cheeks as you cleared your throat, gesturing to him with unsure gloved hands as you dared to continue in a mumbling sort of voice.

“Uh-Well! I j-just mean...that...you’re not exactly dressed for this weather! I don’t-um-well-I think wearing something warmer would feel nicer, right? If you catch a cold, that would be bad...Colds aren’t fun. Have you had one before?”

Silence echoed in return, his head fixing itself upright but he still did not move. Did not talk. Could he talk? You weren’t sure. You also weren’t sure why your hands were going up to your neck, slowly unraveling the scarf from around it. You slid the band of fabric off from your body, shuddering slightly at the chill of exposure brought up to your neck, and folded it neatly between your fingers. Once it was in a straight band of fabric you guessed would fit around his neck, you did what most would assume would be the stupidest movement of your life.

You dared to take a step forward, shaky hands offering out the being before you. An offering to the god of the forest, in a way. A gift of peace you hoped would convey your meaningfulness in the kindest way possible. A signal that you were swearing not to be like those who had come before you because, truly, you were not like them. He would most likely choose not to believe you, however, and you were okay with that. There was a sort of peace in your situation that most would call you morbid for accepting the moment you had laid eyes on him. The acceptance of death was much more sure than the possibility of staring paranoid at the forest for the rest of your time here. You prefer its reassurance over the thrum of dissociation you would have experienced otherwise. It was one thing you appreciated about the concept. You had known your father’s boss would die. You had known it was only a matter of time before your father’s disease took him. Now, like them, you would experience your assured death here and now. A sign of a curse long enveloping the bloodline you carried against your veins. You could only wonder if he’d make you suffer, or, perhaps spare you and snap your neck easily.

As you wondered what kind of sound your bones would make in the echo of the quiet forest landscape, Jason lumbered forward. You watched him, doe eyes wide as you wondered what he might do to you.

Instead of snapping your neck or reaching for a weapon to run you through like you had well assumed he was going to do, however, he simply reached out with a slow hand and gripped the scarf.

He didn’t pull it from your grip, instead just holding it along with you. His head tilted again to the side, a silent inquiry as to what to do next. The smile on your lips was unintentional as you tried to bite down the laughter that threatened to appear. You focused instead on giving him an encouraging nod.

“You can take it...if you want. Um...do you...know how to wrap it around your neck?”

He gave another nod, this time fully taking the scarf from you and, more or less, throwing the fabric around his neck. He made no show of tucking it in like you might have or readjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall flimsily around his shoulders and cling to his existing coat. You couldn’t blame him, however, and seeing him with at least a new layer of warmth on gave you some sense of motherly relief you didn’t expect yourself to have for the massive forest dweller. Silence overtook the both of you again as you simply stared at one another. You dared to make the first move again, hands fiddling with the edges of your coat as you stared back out at the lake.

“It’s really beautiful this time of year, I think...Is it as peaceful as it looks all the time?”

A long silence. You looked up at him to see if he would make a nod or gesture to show you. Instead he was quiet, simply staring at you. From this angle you could see his eyes, or, one of them rather. It bore into your flesh, glinting with a silent curiosity. A hesitant sort of watch. A sign that, should you do anything he didn’t like, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. You looked back over the lake, deciding that you’d at least like a view before you died...A sad sort of smile touched at your lips now as you remembered the origin of his story...the thought of him being alone here all this time…

“I visited here a lot as a kid,” You stated, “Always during the winter...My father and I really loved waking walks around the forest in the winter. When we came home we’d make hot chocolate and help one another keep up the garden we had. Though, nothing much grew during winter...I didn’t mind, though, it was always peaceful. Though, I bet you’re pretty used to it…”

You held his gaze again, watching him as he watched you. Half of you craved asking if he was going to kill you. If he was, then when? The other half of you would rather keep it a surprise...if he did at all. Instead, you found yourself asking the single inquiry you had longed for since you had gotten to the edge of the lake. Tilting your head towards the pathways lining the sparkling structure of water, you called out, “I’m Y/N, also...Your name is Jason Voorhees, isn’t it?”

He gave a nod.

“I see...It must’ve been really cold around here all these years...I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with it. With the people that have been around.”

You gazed out again before turning back to the forest, your tongue clicking against your teeth as you gave a nod of affirmation to yourself.

“Would you...like to walk with me back to my house?”

Another series of silence echoed between the both of you. He didn’t respond. Slowly, ever so slowly, you reversed your steps and gave him a curious look. As you meandered back to your home, you eventually turned to face the way you were walking, figuring that if he had truly wanted to kill you, then, he would have done it already. There was a sense of surprise, and moderate anxiety, as you heard footsteps fall in the snow behind you. As heavy boots echoed against the snow, without a doubt overshadowing your smaller footprints in his own. Still, you continued to walk.

The two of you strolled through the forest, you occasionally commenting about things you saw and him saying nothing in return, only giving you nods or adjusting the scarf you had offered him around his neck carefully. The walk had changed something in the dynamic of the air. It had gone from heavy, filled with the threat of blood and death, to something akin to two strangers...simply walking together. To a person leading and a dog following. Not to say Jason was a dog, of course, he was his own person...was that what made it so interesting?

You mulled these concepts over and over again in your mind, touching at trees as you passed and soon continuing the walk you two shared in silence. You wondered why he walked behind you, his strides long enough to easily overtake yours at any moment. Maybe he had decided you weren’t a threat, since you hadn’t shown any signs of debauchery or interest in such things in your time there. Perhaps it was because you had offered a gift instead of screaming, appeasing him into curiosity of what else you might have had for him...Perhaps, perhaps. The word echoed like a rapid drill in your head. It slid from your lips once or twice, testing its pronunciation on your tongue before dying away with ease.

Eventually you stopped, the view of your home slowly sinking into your line of sight.

“Oh,” You blinked, “We’re here.”

Jason was at your side now as you stopped, sharing in your gaze of the snow covered cabin. You looked up at him, watching him as he stared straight ahead. He had nuzzled himself in your light lilac scarf now and you could not help but admire the stark contrast of the purple against his otherwise darkly colored palette. You’d almost dare say that he looked...handsome.

“Well,” You hummed, “I better get going inside. It’s cold, after all.”

You walked a few steps forward, stopped, and thought about your options. If he was truly allowing you to get away with this for a moment, perhaps you should count yourself lucky and continue forward, never to speak of it again. But...what if this could be something more? What if this could be the chance for something else...a friend...a confidant...someone only you could see and speak to in the deep quiet of the woods? There was a greediness that overcame your stomach. A wanton need to create more reason to stay. More reason to cling. To grab and to suffocate and to cherish...to cherish…

You turned despite yourself.

“Did you want….” You trailed off, licking your chapped lips before continuing, “Did you want to come in, Jason? You could warm up yourself before going...um...wherever it is you needed to go.”

There was a hesitance in him you hadn’t seen before, as if he didn’t know what to do in this situation. He took a step forward, then back, as if rethinking the offer. You waited, patiently, as he seemed to pull into himself with the effort of vexing over the situation. Feeling slight guilt on your part for presenting the issue in the first place, you waved your hand forward to get his attention with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, I was too excited. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to...but um...if you ever do decide to visit, I’ll be open okay? I don’t have a lot of work to do around here until spring anyways, so…”

The offer faded into silence.

Slowly, Jason’s hands reached up to undo the scarf around his neck, slowly sliding it off in an effort to offer it back to you. With wide eyes, your hands shot up with a laugh.

“Oh, no, it’s okay! I have more than one scarf. You should keep it, to make sure you stay warm for the rest of the winter okay? Consider it a thanks for walking me home…”

And not killing me, you added the last part in your mind. He stood up straighter, as if surprised by the fact you had offered him a gift. Had anyone offered him a gift before in his life? Your heart ached to imagine it. He pulled his hands back, examining the scarf, before extending it again curiously. As if double checking. As if ASKING. Were you really sure about this?

“I’m sure, don’t worry,” You smiled, “Please, keep it...I’ll um...See you around then?”

He didn’t say anything. He only gave a slow, ghost of a nod against his mask. You took that s a sign the transaction was over. A signal that it was time to go in. Your nose was near numb with the nip of the winter air, the snow making its way through your boots and into your socks. You uttered one last goodbye to the man before you while you shut your cabin door. You didn’t lock it, though...For whatever reason, it didn’t seem appropriate to do in the situation. He could get in if he really wanted to, anyways. What was the point?

You slid down on the back of your door, your spine catching on the old and splintered wood while you bit your lip to stop a yelp of successful relief echoing from between your lips. Well. You had survived an encounter with an esteemed ghost killer. No applause or victory music followed this revelation. Instead there was...a sense of melancholy pity, almost. To say that the view of the entire situation was warped beyond its realities within the landscape of your mind was an understatement. Then again, you had never viewed things the same as other people anyway.

Your mind had found beauty in the grotesque. Home in the quiet. Warmth in cold….A handsome face under a normally terrifying visage.

Half of you doubted he would return. You realized this as you made yourself stand and went to the kitchen to prepare a warm batch of hot chocolate for yourself with deep and even breaths. He would probably leave and never come back, focusing on the hooligans running around his lake instead. If he did come back, maybe it would be to kill you? You tried not to dwell on it, but, your mind constantly bombarded you with thoughts and considerations. On questions you would have loved to ask Jason Voorhees should you have maintained easier conversation with him. Not that he would answer...you didn’t think he could.

You wished you could have told him your opinion on the lake itself. Your thoughts of the woods. You wanted to tell him your favorite color and how you liked the feeling of wind on your skin because it reminded you that you were flesh and bone.

You wish you could have told him you were sorry for how counselor’s treated him before he drowned…

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't bother to stare out the window of your kitchen. If you did, you would have seen him amongst the trees again, hiding behind some while patiently observing you through the dark eyes of his mask. You would have also caught the fluttering ends of the lilac scarf he had re-wrapped around his neck, tucking it close into his flesh to keep the cold at bay while tilting his head to watch every movement you made within your walls.

You would have seen curiosity.

But you didn’t.

#jason voorhees #friday the 13th #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees imagine #slasher imagine #slasher imagines #slasher #cabin fever series #second chapter woohooooo!

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dre--scape · 6 years ago

Text

Slow Down (Stephen Strange x Wife!Reader)

So i’m finally done. AND ITS MY FIRST REQUEST!!!! I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT I DID IT AND I DID MY BEST AT EDITING AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY. i also wanna apologize for the terrible title and if it may seem rushed, everything played out in my head perfectly, but once I got to writing, it was all there, but it didn’t want to go d o w n . i also wanted to include billy but icouldntimsosorry

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem!reader

Word count: 1781

Request by @mrs-walka-blog: Hii Can i request a Stephen x wife!reader ANGST where they are having a heated argument in the car (reader accusing him of cheating with christine) and then the car crash happens. It would be before he got his powers obviously.

Summary: ^^^

I also accept requests!

Warnings: ANGST, Major Character death, descriptive car crash, moderate swearing (3 B---- words)

Your gaze watched the rain race off of the Lamborghini’s windshield and the wipers that pushed them off faster as Stephen drove quickly along the mountainside. The anxious feeling in your stomach made your nausea worse as your husband weaved through the two lanes. But you were certain that your mind was faster.

Stephen had been spending too much time at the hospital lately and you were beginning to wonder if he would come home at all. Of course you knew that being married to a neurosurgeon, you wouldn’t see your significant other for hours at a time (You felt terrible for silently thanking the Libby Zion Act). But the fact that he would be around a past lover most of the time had you slightly on edge.

You felt bad for thinking about it too because Christine was a dear friend of yours and you knew she was extremely kind, that she would never have those intentions. So why was it only now that your mind decided to berate you?

Who would want to be married to a lawyer for Christ’s sake? Oh God, what if he’s cheating on me with Christine? He probably is. He’s around her almost 24/7, so I wouldn’t be surprised. She definitely looks like Regina George. Only so much nicer. But if I had to give a rough estimate, he’d probably leave me in two-

“Darling, you really think that low of me?” Stephen asked through a strained chuckle. He wasn’t hurt by the fact that you thought he would actually leave you. No. He was furious at the fact that you thought he was one of those low-life people who’d do it behind your back.

He hesitantly looked over at your face which was mixed with confusion and embarrassment. “You mumble when you think, Love.” You were too flustered by your vocal thoughts to notice the spite in Stephen’s voice.

“I-I do?” You questioned timidly, carefully looking up at your husband.

Stephen nodded slightly, “Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but quietly ask, “Are you really with Christine though?”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you and you leaned your head against the cool window. Placing a finger against your lips, your mind started to race again.

A couple of minutes passed before Stephen spoke up again. “Do you really think I would cheat on you?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice. That drew your attention back to the man at the wheel and you shook your head. “No, I don’t.” You mumbled, hands fidgeting out of nervous habit. “I-I just-”

“Thought I was a low life asshole who moves on from woman to the next?” Your eyes narrowed and you gazed at Stephen, wishing looks could actually injure someone. You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “It was just a simple question, Stephen.” Your brain finally registered how fast Stephen was driving when you glanced at the speedometer. “Now slow down.”

You saw him roll his eyes before placing them back on the road. “And it was a good question because?” Your mind immediately started piling up with evidence against him, but you knew they were all petty accusations. “You’re around her almost all week and when you come home, it’s always: Christine this and Christine that!” You huffed, cheeks turning slightly red.

“Am I not allowed to have any female friends?” The question lingered in the air along with his booming voice. You took a deep breath, calming yourself before speaking. “No, you are.” You said collectedly. “I’m just saying-”

“I’m always spending time with Christine!” Stephen cut you short. “We work together for Christ’s sake!” An irritated groan ripped out of your throat as you shifted in your seat. “Can you stop interrupting me?”

“When you stop accusing me!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I was going to let it die, Stephen.” You informed him, training your eyes on the dark road ahead of you. You had hoped he would just leave it at that and stay quiet, but as soon as he raised his voice, you knew his ego wouldn’t allow that.

Stephen sneered and you felt the car go a little faster. “And let it run through your head a little bit more?” Your hand instinctively reached for the grab handle and you shot your husband a side-glare. “Can you blame me?” You asked, tightening your grip. “Your ego won’t let anything go because I just asked a question.”

The whole night, something hadn’t been sitting well in your stomach as your husband drove quickly. You blamed it on the speed and the type of road you were driving on. But now it went past that and you felt your breathing pick up. “Stephen, please slow down.” You whispered.

You heard Stephen sigh and you thought he would finally let it go and listen to your pleads. Until he said, “If I knew marrying a lawyer would mean having to justify my work, I would’ve tried to make it work with Christine.” Your chest constricted as you loosened your grip on the handle. “She’d probably be less of a bitch than you are now.”

A breath got caught in your throat as your heart dropped to your stomach. Your jaw dropped slightly and your lip tremble as you looked at Stephen for an apology.

He said he would never hurt you. He said you were enough. He said you were always enough.

But here you are: stupid enough to believe him. You were stupid enough to believe the egotistic man beside you. Tears threatened to spill as you looked away, finally focusing on the car that was seemed too close for your liking.

“Stephen-” Your worried tone wasn’t detected as the back of the Lamborghini sideswiped the car behind you.

That seemed to snap Stephen out of his exasperated stupor as he slammed his foot against the breaks. His hands impulsively turned the wheel to the left to try and straighten out the car. The seatbelt you wore tensed as you were tossed against it and you had the feeling of being slightly choked.

The first hit was expected. However, you never knew how painful it would be to actually hit something. It was somewhat equivalent to getting hit by a truck. The tree hit your side of the car and you were thrown against the seatbelt, feeling the material rub against your skin.

It was another few seconds before the car spun out of control and hit the traffic barrier of the road. This hit launched you head-first into the glass window. That seemed to slow everything down as you felt the car tumble down the mountain-side. Your head throbbed as you were flung around, glass shards flying around you. And if you were screaming, you couldn’t hear it.

The whole thing felt like a death-inducing rollercoaster.

It wasn’t until the third hit against your side, you were finally put into darkness.

Stephen was unfortunately still conscious by the time the car landed in the ditch. He wished he blacked out on the way down, but he didn’t.

The pain finally registered into his brain as he hung from his seatbelt but you were far more important. “(Y/N)...” His voice was slurred as he tried to call out for you. He craned his head the slightest bit which caused a great deal of pain.

But it couldn’t compete with the pain that spread from his chest when he saw you, unconscious and limp, dangling from the seatbelt. Your face was bloodied, bruised and littered with cuts. He saw the incisions on your figure from the glass shards as he attempted to reach out for you, but even thinking about it hurt his body.

“Love…” His voice trailed off as he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

Stephen finally woke up, his hands at his eye level.

He wasn’t put off by the metal needles sticking out of his hands or the stitches that covered them; he was put off by the fact he didn’t have his ring on.

Reality started crashing down on him. The words, the red, the crash, your screams… All of it.

Stephen’s eyes widened slightly as his breathing became slightly laboured. A soft hand placed itself on his shoulder to calm him down. But how could he when he came face to face with the cause of the argument instead of his wife?

“Stephen…” Christine looked like she was on the verge of tears as she glanced up at the doctor.

“Wh-Where is she?” Stephen asked almost immediately, his voice strained, rough, and coarse. He didn’t want to bother with her until he saw his beautiful, beautiful wife again. “Where’s (Y/N)?” When Christine bit her lip to hold back a sob and tears started falling, he knew he got his answer.

“-Severe brain trauma, abrasions, multiple fractures…” Christine mumbled the autopsy report at Stephen’s request.

He deserved to know what he did to you because he remembered his promises to you and your father.

He remembered to keep you safe. To not hurt you. To make you happy. He broke his vows in your last moments.

“She asked me to slow down.” Stephen murmured, cutting Christine off from the painful reading. “It was raining, I was driving at full speed, and she asked me to slow down.” The woman heard the strain in Stephen’s voice as he spoke. “We were fighting a-and…” Stephen let out a soft sob as the female surgeon put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked at the point of contact and laughed bitterly. “Do you know what I called her before she died?” Stephen looked out the window, eyes dull and emotionless. “I called her a bitch.” He heard Christine inhale sharply before he continued. “I called (Y/N), my wife, my love and my world, a bitch.”

Tears started flowing again as he let out another sob. “She’s d-dead because of me.” He cried as he leaned forward in his bed, glaring at his hands. “I never even said sorry.”

He felt so guilty. He was riled up and ignored your pleads. He said words he knew he wouldn’t be able to take back.

So when he glared at his hands, he was glaring at himself. His hands were the epitome of his work and the cause of your death.

I deserve this.

Stephen looked up at Christine, tears falling from his eyes and a sad smile painted onto his lips. His eyes glanced over his bandaged finger, the place where his ring should’ve been, before flicking back up to ask Christine, his voice soft: “Do you think I could’ve saved her?”

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dopeheaddiaries-blog · 5 years ago

Text

You’ve Got To Start Somewhere

The focus here is on struggles in life, love, and drugs and is my outlet to express my self publicly in an anonymous way.

After approximately two years of very diligently doing everything in my power to destroy my life, and ruin the future I’d built up for myself until the age of 26, I experienced a spiritual awakening. Probably not quite like any other one you’ve ever heard of before since my awakening was the direct result of a drug-induced state of psychosis that left me questioning the existence and meaning of everyone and everything. No thought or belief even of the most simplistic thing could be trusted. Where was I? I had no clue. Maybe, I was in a psych ward talking to doctors, and patients, or other parts of my mind. Maybe, I was in jail for a terrible crime my mind couldn’t accept me having committed. Quite possibly I’m a comatose patient in a hospital dreaming my reality. As I said before, I didn’t have the slightest clue but one thing was certain. I. Did. Not. Trust. Anything.

Inspired by the woman I love most in this world. With you, I’m such a better man and I cherish every moment that you so lovingly give to me. Because of you, I aspire not just to be great but to be the greatest. Because of you I know that means so much more than becoming successful and wealthy. For without you all the wealth in the world couldn’t bring the joy one smile from you brings to my heart.

Man, this shit is really eating me alive. I really can’t take the way that the relationship between my father and myself has become. It’s embarrassing to admit, but the last month I’ve spent crying the majority of the time I’ve alone. Which, until very recently, has been almost all day every day. After all the emotional trauma that I’ve been through, currently being in an unhealthy relationship, and having just recovered from over a year of using insulin syringes to inject whatever interesting drug I could get my hands on, I need a little more recognition than what I’m getting. I feel like my father has forgotten that he still has himself to work on. I feel like he gave up on emotional self-improvement a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong. I love my father and appreciate everything that he’s done to support me, believe me. But I’m fucking over here working on healing HIS problems, my mother’s problems, my girlfriend’s problems and oh let’s not forget my problems. I’m not trying to put blame on anyone else for my problems. Trust that I take full responsibility for the things that are mine. But some of the things that we struggle with in life are generational issues that have been struggled with throughout your family line for decades. But if you can heal yourself. You might be able to heal your lineage. The reason why it’s being struggled with, in the first place, is because there clearly isn’t enough knowledge or experience. Generally speaking, I think it’s safe to say we don’t usually struggle with things we are both knowledgeable of and experienced at. So then I also feel like it would be safe to say that if you struggle with something, it’s a good idea to get knowledge and experience on that topic or you will continue to struggle with it. Experience without knowledge is almost useless. I can’t simply start getting good meaningful experiences from something without the knowledge of what a good experience actually would be. I only would learn about that experience and without at least another experience I’d have no knowledge to tell me if it was a good experience or bad and why or what the factors were that affected that experience. For me, I missed experiencing a lot between my parents. My Father never taught me how to treat a woman I love and care for. My mother never taught me how a woman acts towards a man she loves. Or did I, in fact, learn exactly that. My mother and father, divorced when I was so young I couldn’t understand what was actually happening. I remember there was a lot of unhappy times then I remember suddenly having to go to different houses to see both of my parents. I didn’t see them talk anymore. I didn’t see them work out their differences. I didn’t see them come together to solve problems. I didn’t see them build each other up and motivate each other. The two people I loved with the greatest purest love, the love of an innocent child, only showed hate toward each other. Though my father was careful not to speak badly of my mother for a very long time until I started to get older and ask better questions. My mother frequently spoke badly about my father and they rarely spoke face to face. They hardly even could bare speaking on the phone. I remember every time they had to see each other they made it seem like it was such a big deal and a problem. They couldn’t possibly stand being around each other. There was, the very rare occasion, that they did come together and talk and work as a team though. When all hell broke loose with me and neither of them had the slightest clue what to do with me. Oh and trust.. I put them through a hell that no person ever deserves. Hell, that I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy. Hell, that I learned was love. To me, that’s what love was. The way your mother treats your father and the way your father treats your mother is you learn what love looks like as a child. It’s no wonder that I said mean and hurtful things to my parents who would say mean and hurtful things about each other and to me. I learned that my mother whom I loved spoke about my father whom I love in that way. So… That must be what love is, correct? My father almost never spoke to my mother at all, and almost never had anything nice to say about her. So, that must be what love looks like, correct? I know that none of us are perfect. I know that we all make mistakes. I know that hindsight is 20 / 20. It doesn’t change looking back at the past, I can’t help but ask myself. WHAT THE FUCK were you two thinking? I love you both dearly but you failed me as parents. I think it’s time we all accept that. Trust me it sucks. I hate it more than anyone else. I’m sure it’s painful for you to admit and think but I promise you it’s 10 times more painful for me. OWN IT. We fuck up. You fucked up. We’re going to fuck up again. Whatever. Shit happens. Be honest and true to yourself. Forgive yourself, forgive others. Accept your shortcomings and start focusing on improving. You can’t change the past but we still have right now. But every second you continue to ride on autopilot not working on the things that I’m now forced to deal with as an adult you continue to fail me. AM I GOING TO TEACH YOU HOW TO GET SOBER OR ARE YOU GOING TO TEACH ME? AM I GOING TO TEACH YOU HOW TO COMMUNICATE OR ARE YOU GOING TO LEARN AND TEACH ME?!

I’m in love. More so than I’ve ever been in my entire life with someone whom I’m not worthy of their love and I’m trying so fucking hard to fix my issues and become a better person for the woman I love. Trying so fucking hard to fix the same problems that I’ve had over and over year after year with different girlfriends different people different things different times but the same fucking problems. SHE ISN’T THE PROBLEM. WE ARE. Yeah, we’ve fought. Yeah, we’ve treated each other like shit at times and hurt each other more than anyone else probably ever has or will. But, we’ve stuck by each other and kept pushing each other to be better do better. To grow, heal, and love ourselves again. She beyond a shadow of a doubt in my mind is the woman that is meant for me. She ain’t going to take my shit. She knows how great I am and she accepts nothing less. She loves me more than any woman has ever loved me before and yeah she’s got some issues but dammit I love her issues. I love her issues like they are my own and I would do any damn thing in the world to make her happy. I’ve said more than my piece today. Dope head signing out.

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joshslater · 6 years ago

Text

Hitting Jock Bottom

I felt like shit. The throbbing headache told me to stay in bed. Actually, wise from hangovers past I should go and drink water and then take a nap and hope things would turn out better the next time I wake up. Those thoughts quickly went through my mind, still foggy from whatever had transpired the night before. I didn't remember what had happened nor how I had gotten here, but this was definitely not my bed.

Harsh white light lit the sparse, tiled room as I opened my eyes. I was strapped on some sort of gurney that was tilted at an angle between lying down and standing up. My body was secured, but I could move my head around enough to see that I wore something resembling a dark blue wetsuite. Cables and tubes where attached to various points and snaked away to a cluster of machines and drip bags to my right. Still groggy, and more confused than scared, I was trying to sort through all the different sensations. Most prominent of all was something big was stuck in my mouth, and I felt like I needed to take a dump.

*squeak*

The sound when I bit down resembled a doggy squeaky toy.

*squeak*

Before I had any time to consider this new, perplexing weirdness a door opened and closed behind me and a man in white shirt, tie and labcoat came into view.

"I do apologise, we are a bit understaffed at the moment. I try to be present for every arrival". He checked something on one of the machines next to me. "Good, good. Just waking up I see. Welcome to Goldfarb Body Shop and Repairs. I imagine you are feeling some confusion at the moment. It's perfectly normal when our services are purchased for someone else. My name is Rob, and I will take care of your process initiation."

My head still hurt like hell and very little of this made sense, beside the feeling confused part. Rob was in his forties and looked every bit like a lab technician. A lab technician who was high on sugar and couldn't wait to talk to other people.

Rob picked up a clipboard and quickly eyed the first two pages. "Let's start with the basics. As I think I heard, you have already figured out how to use the signalling device in your mouth piece. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but we've had so much problem with people just screaming. Totally ruins the schedule. I would like you to signal once for yes, twice for no and three times to have the question repeated. Do you understand?"

*squeak*

"Excellent! Are you Jonathan Brent, social security number 078-05-1120?"

*squeak*

"Great. It would be so embarrassing to have the wrong person. In the old days we used to invite people to retreats through sham lottery winnings and have them participate in yoga and meditation, and slowly work with them from there, but the way technology has progressed we don't need any cooperation at all anymore. A bit less personal but so much more efficient."

He looked at the clipboard once again. "So someone has purchased, for you, one of our discount packages. Great value! This one is called 'jock bottom'. We are so lucky to have such a creative sales and marketing team. This bundle contains four transformation modules, well three of any substance. We have Muscleman, Meathead, Cunting and then our QA/Design module. I'll explain all of them briefly."

Muscleman, Meathead and Cunting. Whatever this place was and what they were planning to do, I didn't like the sound of any of them. Well, muscleman didn't sound terrible, but I've never been that interested in anything physical. I do the occasional jog and play some volley at the beach, but nothing regular. And I don't even know what cunting means.

Rob continued "Muscleman is about 50% of the transformation effort in the bundle. We'll use state of the art, fast acting genetic editing and gene therapy to overhaul the genetic makeup of your body. Then a combination of stem cells, hormone manipulation and viral reconstruction to actually express those genes as physical changes. In addition to biochemistry we have a set of contraptions that can force tissue to build how and where we want it."

He was looking up from the clipboard and looking into my eyes. "It gets much easier if you cooperate with all given instructions. We will not sacrifice the quality of our work, it just take different amount of time to get there. The changes are pronounced, profound and permanent, to quote our motto."

This is terrible! Somehow someone somewhere has paid these guys to force me into becoming a some sort of body builder. Who does that? How is that technology even possible?

"The Muscleman module also has a small educational component where we ensure that the target has the needed knowledge, skill and motivation to keep the body in great condition long after QA acceptance. This is done, in addition to reinforcing genetic changes, through psycotherapy and metabolic conditioning." Rob was clearly reading marketing text from the clipboard. "The end result is multiple layers of reinforcing behaviors. Eating triggers restlessness triggers excersie. Excersise triggers hunger trigers eating."

"Now the second module is the Meathead module. It's about 20% of the transformation and is a bit more involved than it first appears. First it reinforces the mental conditioning from the Muscleman module, and adds significantly more knowledge and interest in physical activities. But it also removes some of the previous drives and abilities of the target."

This was getting worse and worse.

*squeak* *squeak*

Rob looked up from the clipboard, distracted from his reading. "What? Ah. No? No, it's all already being ordered and paid for, but don't worry, there will be plenty of opportunity to give feedback and consent later. Where were we, yes Meathead. We will run a series of tests in an MRI where we will map your brain. Then we'll insert articulated, microscopic wires through your nose and into your brain, cut out small sections and replace them with stem cells with DNA we coded. You'll see major results instantly after the operation! We'll then stimulate the brain with the right chemicals, electrical impulses and sensory data, and you'll know 50 different ways of excersising your deltoid in no time." He looked up again, excitedly going off script. "We have this cool transcranial stimulation head gear you put on, and then every movement you do while you wear it you will be able to replicate exactly afterwards. Dead lifts, break dance, karate chops, you name it! Super cool. Well, you will not use it for karate or dancing though."

No fucking way! Replacing parts of the brain. Reprogramming? These people are sick.

"Then we have the Cunting module. This is also mainly a behavior module, but it will turn you into a very submissive, very promiscuous homosexual. The principle is the same as the Meathead module, but instead of cramming sports teams and being rewarded for squatting correctly, you'll be flooded with gay porn and being conditioned with chemically induced orgasms on anal stimulation. I can promise you that you will love it. After all, the point is that you should love it so much you would arrange your life around sucking dick, getting fucked and working out."

WTF!

"The last 10% is spent on quality assurance and design. We'll remove genetic problems, administer a broad set of vaccinations, slow down aging, etc. This is a standard module for all our work. Good for you to know is that it includes HIV immunity and protects against all known long term STDs. The design part is that one of our character designer will spend 30 minutes to review your build and allocate some minor work to make it coherent. Since there is no purely cosmetic change included in your package, except for the muscles, perhaps the designer will move the hairline forward to make a more youthful look, or broaden the nose a bit to make you look imposing."

Getting massive muscles and being forced to keep them was a survivable event. Some people get stuck in wheel chairs. Some people need to inject insulin daily. Having to eat clean and go to the gym was really nothing compared to that. Having the brain rearranged was way worse, but I could suffer a stroke. Becoming some sort of muscle-homo-sub was something different entirely. How the fuck could I get out of this?

"We're a bit pressed on time, as I mentioned, so I'll get right to it. We have a set of customization options to run you through. All are simply select one option out of three. Just signal once for option one, twice for two, three times for three and four times to have them repeated."

"The first option is selecting the major profile for the Meathead module. This one is important and informs a lot of the following customizations, so pay attention. Option 1 is called 'jock' and is the standard athletic option. Lot's of interest in sports, both as a participant and as an observer, spending your nights in areans or sports bars. Option 2 is called 'douche' and is the party and exhibitionist option. You'll spend your time in bodybuilding competitions, getting photographed, or clubbing. Finally option 3 is called "bear" and is the strongman option. This includes lumberjack, handyman or motorcycle specializations, with nights in leather bars or truck stops."

I'm not playing this fucking game. If I'm not saying anything it is something that happens to me, not something I've done.

"Once for jock, twice for douche, thrice for bear. You should know that the Muscleman module isn't affected, so the muscled build will look the same regardless of option here. The focus is primarily muscle size and secondly strength. Agility, stamina or coordination are not something actively worked on, but possible to train yourself of course."

We look at each other in silence. I can't tell from his voice if he is mocking or serious when he misunderstands my silence.

"I know it is difficult to make a decision. I'll put a time limit of 30 seconds per question and pick something for you. We do typically alter the body hair to match each major theme. Jock gets pretty standard body hair, but clean back and chest, douche gets no hair below the neck and bear gets hair everywhere. There is also some differences in skin tanning."

After presumably 30 seconds he continues.

"OK, let's go with option 1. Jock is our most popular option. It's in the name of the package after all. Let's continue with some specifics. For every question you can either select what you find most exciting today, or what you would like to find exciting. If you pick something you already love, that will make the transition easier. So, what sport are you most interested in. One football, two hockey or three soccer?"

I continue my silent treatment. I'm not much into any of them anyway.

"OK, let's go with soccer. That's big internationally, so there is always something to watch. Next, what would you prefer out of basket, baseball or lacrosse?"

...

"Nothing? Not yet a sports fan, eh? Let's mix it up with something more niche and pick lacrosse. Final sport, MMA, Boxing or Wrestling?"

I have looked at a some wrestling, but being a fan is a bit of a stretch.

"Let's go with MMA then. Final question in this module: do you prefer Sweatpants, basketball shorts or compression shorts? I should mention that the questions going forward are a bit reflective. With the full homosexual module, there is really no difference between what you like to wear and what you are attracted to."

How could I relate to that question, even if I wanted to answer. Would I like to be attracted to men in sweatpants? I don't want to be fucking attracted to men at all!

"Basketball shorts then! We're almost there. Just a few simple customizations in the cunting module. What excites you the most? Licking asses, licking feet or licking armpits?"

Fuck! I can't let it be asses. What is best of feet or armpits? What is least worst?

*squeak* *squeak* ... *squeak*

"Oh, we got some interest. Licking armpits it will be. What ejaculations would you be most excited about? In your mouth, in your ass, or both at the same time?"

Is being fucked better or worse than giving a blow job? You would be more in control of a blow job, but you would have to do all the work for it. Both at the same time is clearly worse. Why do I even have to think about this?

*squeak*

"Excellent! An upcoming supreme fellator. Finally an ethnic question. What would you find most attractive? Middle eastern men, northen Latin American men or west African men?"

For a split second I felt very racist as I rejected each of the alternatives. What would be worse though? I imagine trying to find muslims to suck off could backfire in so many ways? Black or Latino then? I really have no idea what their gay communities look like.

*squeak* *squeak* *squeak*

"West African men it is. So, if I've noted everything down correctly you want to become a jock with special interest in soccer, lacrosse and MMA, attracted to West African men wearing basketball shorts, who you most would like to lick their armpits and have them ejaculate in your mouth. Is that correct?"

*squeak*

"Excellent! It's such a waste of time when people don't consent after all that work. All of this would be a loss and we would have to refund the money."

FUCK! *squeak* *squeak* *squeak* *pfff* ...

Rob turned a small knob on the mouth piece that turned off the toy sound.

"So, we will go right ahead and synthesize the DNA and inject that in a few hours. Then you'll basically be knocked out and in fever for the better part of a week while the major rewrite happens. We'll do the brain mapping towards the end and perform the minor surgeries after that. Then one week of initial programming while the surgeries heal and the initial set of tissue stem cell injections start to grow. Week three and forward will be a daily rotation of gym time, injections and programming, mostly in the fuck lab. With your cooperation we could be done as quickly as 10 weeks."

FUCK NO! FUCK NO!

"While we wait for those viruses to be completed we are going to run you through a cleansing sequence. You can see it as a full body enema, so we can implant a new set of bacteria more helpful to our goals."

He pressed a few buttons and the gurney tilted back almost to a flat position. Some sort of numbing fluid was spraying in my mouth after which something started extending down my throat. At the same time I could feel the plug in my ass inflating and altering its configuration.

Part #2

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hislittleflower-throughconcrete · 6 years ago

Text

I’m gonna rant about disability services at private Catholic schools for a second

I will preface this by saying that this is my experience at both of the Catholic schools I attended growing up. If I am generalizing please correct me, let me know, but I believe this problem is pervasive in most private Catholic schools (probably not just Catholic private schools, but all private schools, but I’m not touching on that right now.)

My brother’s kindergarten teacher was the first person to identify that he had ADHD. My parents took him to the necessary doctors/professionals so see what they could do. However, the school that he (and I, as well as all of my siblings) went to only had one lady who acted as a “resource” for kids who were struggling. She was a mom, I don’t know if she had any training at all to deal with learning disabilities - I honestly think she just took kids out of class to give them extra time to practice certain reading and math skills. Because none of the teachers were trained in dealing with kids who had ADHD (let alone learning disabilities or special needs, which my brother didn’t have) there was a point where I, a 5th grader, got called out of my math class to come into his 2nd grade classroom to comfort my crying brother as the teacher said impatiently, “you deal with him.” That was when my parents decided to put him in public school because they had the resources to actually accommodate my brother.

Fast forward to high school, this time concerning myself. I was in and out of high school due to depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and an eating disorder. After the first hospitalization, I get back to school and discover that I am required to make up all of my work. All of it. At the same time as trying to complete the current work being assigned. I was so stressed and already a perfectionist that I went back tot he hospital for anxiety-induced suicidal urges directly related to being so overwhelmed with my life. This happened at least three other times - where I was hospitalized due to my inability to cope with my own deteriorating mental health on top of all of that work. My mom and I repeatedly explained this to my high school’s “school counselor” (again, not sure if this lady had any training at all, my school was notorious for hiring unqualified people just because they were good-hearted and faith-filled individuals). She and all of my teachers maintained that I must make up all of my work, months and months of tests, papers, projects, and even busywork. When we asked why this was so even though it posed a serious risk to my, ya’know, life, they said that at that present moment, too or three other students had been out “sick” for months at a time (one had mono and one had had a concussion) and if I got an exception it wasn’t fair to them. In other words: Justice, not Mercy. The fact that I could die from “some stress” never seemed to penetrate their consciousness. I distinctly remember my “guidance counselor” (as I sat in her office weeks into my summer break catching up on work from the previous year) saying off-hand when I mentioned the stress, “well, we can’t all take a vacation every time life gets too hard.”

Fast forward to college. We heard about this “disability services” thing during orientation. I looked closely at whatever pamphlet I had been handed, and it listed mental health issues as disabilities. What? My mom and I decided to check it out, saying “it would be really cool if I could have someone at this big college to talk to and goto if I am struggling with work,” thinking that that was all she could offer me - things like tutors and advice. After providing the hospital and doctor records to disability services, I find out that I qualify for extension for assignments, excused absences, extended time on tests, modified or completely excused assignments, and more, because of my mental health issues, without any professor allowed to ask me why other than “a disability-related reason.” They also appointed a disability services advocate whose job was to go to bat with my professors for me if they did not comply.

To say that we were floored would have been incorrect. I wasn’t floored. I just didn’t understand. I felt I was cheating. I didn’t even know this was allowed. How was this fair to the other students? “You have a disability, this is to allow you to do as well as someone who doesn’t have this disability.” You mean I just don’t have to suck it up and deal with my problems on my own time? I have a disability? What?

Okay. There are two points to this post. One is the obvious: Catholic schools, you are losing the opportunity for children with disabilities to be formed in the faith. Like it or not, the majority of parents and families aren’t the ones who teach the faith to their kids - either they learn it at Catholic school, or just don’t learn it at all. I am aware this issue is heavily tied to funding, HOWEVER: disability services shouldn’t be this nifty add-on to a school, a novelty or a selling point. They should be a fundamental, integrated part of allowing students of all abilities to have the opportunity to be educated in their faith and a faith-filled environment. Parents should not have to choose, as my parents had to, between having their child grow up educated in the faith or actually being able to learn and be treated appropriately by teachers who understood him. (Yes, he still did CCD, but no, the CCD classes did not have disability-educated individuals teaching it - shocker. How much did he retain from it? A few weeks ago, he asked me what Pentecost was.)

The second issue is more tied to my experience. You are damaging people’s perception of God and His Love. You are saying that those of disabilities - those same people Jesus healed and released from their pain and struggles in the Gospels - aren’t important enough to be accommodated using a basic section of the school’s budget. This may be controversial, but part of me thinks that a school shouldn’t exist at all if it doesn’t have the ability to accommodate children with physical, intellectual, psychological, or developmental disabilities - yes, even and especially Catholic schools. I had a severely damaged faith as a result of the attitude of my school - yaknow, the ones who taught me about God and Jesus. I graduated high school hearing about “mercy,” and hating the whole concept. I seethed every time I heard the prodigal son bible reading, because I hated the fact that the wayward son was allowed to do that without any punishment. I didn’t understand mercy and it made me angry. Everyone deserves justice, I thought, and mercy is the opposite - a hall pass for the weak and undeserving. I punished myself through self harm every time I got less than an A on a test, every time I said something stupid and felt embarrassed. The self-harming and perfectionistic inclinations were mine, but the importance of justice was fed to me by them. Self harm and suicidal ideation were listed as sins against the commandment “Thou Shalt Not Kill” without any mention about exceptions, or what to do if you felt that way. A teacher told us that the worst sin of all - above rape and murder of children - was desecration of the Eucharist by receiving it unfaithfully. I abstained from the Eucharist for years because I couldn’t stop cutting or disordered eating behaviors, and I was in a constant state of mortal sin (I thought) so I couldn’t receive. No one on staff was educated enough on mental health disabilities to point out that saying things like eating disorders, cutting, and suicidal ideation were sins could result from an illness, a disability, that was not being addressed. I told priest after priest that those were my sins, and to be fair, most asked if I was in therapy, but only one mentioned to me that he didn’t think that my cutting was “completely” a sin, that the guilt was reduced due to “addiction.” But I quickly disregarded that comment, because I was not giving myself a free pass. God deserves Justice - the least sin in His eyes breaks the whole Law. If an action hurts someone else or hurts God, the offended party deserves justice. Not excuses for weak people. Justice, not Mercy.

But college was also the same time I was actually introduced to having a personal relationship with Jesus. The first time I confessed to a priest who immediately said that I was so, so wrong in my understanding of who God was and what He wanted of me. He rejoiced in me. In me. His unconditional love did not excuse my sins, but heal them. His Mercy was not a free pass of pity at my weakness, but the bandages in which He used to bind up my wounds. If I had learned about Mercy before this, it was not in this way. I was taught through actions, if not the words themselves, that justice for others was worth more than mercy on me. And even now I am stunned every time I am “ given a break.” Because that’s what it feels like, bosses and professors who accommodate my disability - them being generous. Not my basic needs being met.

Love the least in the eyes of the world, Catholic schools. Do better. Don’t consider yourself inclusive after building some wheelchair ramps and asking a parish mom to come in on Wednesdays to help the kids who “just aren’t getting it.” Work with families. Hire trained staff members - plural - who are equipped to deal with a wide range of disabilities, including learning disabilities, mental health issues, autism, and Down syndrome. The souls of all children with disabilities whose parents want their child to grow to know Jesus through their schools hangs in the balance.

@patron-saint-of-smart-asses @catholicamputee @alwaysabeautifullife @hissaltandlight @tinycatholicbean and @ all other tumbler Catholics who either have a physical/mental disability or are parents of a child with one.

#catholic #disability #catholic school

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abdicatedarchive · 4 years ago

Text

coffee and questions || rose and juniper

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: the quad // february 2021.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: rose x juniper.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒: none.

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒: rose takes it upon herself to vet juniper for her friend, stevie.

Rosemary was out getting coffee, and eyeing boys in the quad when she remembered that she shouldn't be doing that right now because she was not about to lose this bet with her sister. That's when she saw Juniper, the girl that Stevie had shown her the other day, and she had seen her a few times at Striking Viper's concerts. She wanted to get to know the other girl, especially because this was the first person Stevie had talked to ... like actually talked to since Juliette. That whole thing had been such a mess, and Rose had been present for a lot of it. "Hey, I've seen you at shows and stuff. You're Stevie's friend, right?" she said, keeping it vague like she hadn't heard too much from Stevie. She wasn't going to embarrass her friend, she was here to wingman. If Rose couldn't go after people, she was sure as hell going to play cupid.

Despite the cold weather, Juniper still liked to sit out in the quad to do homework. She grew up in similar conditions, so it was nothing new to her. The bite of the cold air could be refreshing, and it was also a great way to keep herself awake when trying to get through her algebra assignments. She had one headphone in, listening to a playlist that Stevie had made for her, but she looked up when she heard someone come up and talk to her. "Oh, hey," she greeted, pulling out her phone to press pause and removing the earpiece for good measure. It was only polite. She recognized the girl, especially after the mention of Stevie. "Yeah, I'm friends with Stevie. And you're... Rose? You've got a killer voice."

Rosemary smiled and sat down next to her, "Thank you! It's all everyone else, I'm just the icing on top" she said, doing her best to be humble in the face of a compliment. Being in a band with other talented people had definitely been a humbling experience, but she was focused on how together they were the best. It still counts even if it's a team effort. "You two been hanging out a lot?" Rose pried, "Stevie is maybe the most relaxed person I have ever met, I could sit around for hours just listening to music with her. And such a good listener, she'll hear me complain about boy drama for hours" Rose wanted to clarify that Stevie and her were strictly platonic, that way the other girl would be more likely to trust her. She knew that anytime someone talked to her about a potential romantic interest and they seemed too friendly, she was immediately threatened. But then again, that was just Rose.

“So modest. I like it,” she said, laughing. It was nice that a singer in a band truly gave credit to their bandmates. June’s expression became more curious when the girl started asking about her and Stevie. She was kind of amused by it. What was this all about? “You could say that. She’s pretty cool, yeah, and she has some great music taste.” She chose to ignore the mention of boy drama. She didn’t want to invite that kind of conversation right now, especially when she already had a math-induced headache.

Rose was doing her best to not be too obvious, but just obvious enough that the other girl felt validated in Stevie's affections. Rose nodded her head when Juniper said that she had some great music taste, "She really does, she picks out the majority of our sets" said the girl, her cheeks rosey from the cold air. Rose took a sip of her coffee and held it in her gloved hands to keep her warm. "So what are you into? Music wise? Hobbies? Academics? What kind of person is Juniper?" Rose asked, wanting to get to know the other more, "Since I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you around." She hadn't been able to know Juliette that well since she and Stevie dated in secret, and this time she was going to be a better friend and be there from the ground floor.

Juniper nodded along, not surprised that Stevie had some sort of say in the set list. Judging from the playlist the girl made her alone, she would have been shocked if she didn’t make those decisions. The onslaught of questions that came from Rose next had June laughing. “Woah, slow down! Are you trying to get my whole life story in five minutes?” She scrunched her nose, her smile reaching her eyes. Stevie apparently had a really good friend who wanted to vet Juniper. Did that mean that Stevie told Rose they were hanging out? Dating? What were they? Shaking her head, she decided it didn’t matter right then. “How about I answer one question at a time, and you give me one, too?” she suggested. Getting to know Stevie’s friend wouldn’t be a bad idea. “I play soccer and softball, for starters, and I’m an art major. Your turn.” She thought about suggesting they go into the nearest building since the girl looked cold, but she wasn’t sure how long Rose planned to question her.

Rose let out a laugh, "You've never done a life in five before? Because those are intense, we did them at summer camp. You have to tell your whole life story in five minutes with a multitude of personal details from birth to the present" said Rosemary, "Obviously I will not be asking you to do that" she said as another giggle fell from her lips. When she heard the proposal, she nodded, "That sounds like a fair game, and a lot more tolerable than a life in five." It truly was a good arrangement, and a little less like a one sided interview. "I am a cheerleader and do debate, and I am undecided on my files but I will be a political science major once I find a advisor who can keep up with all this" said Rose, moving her hand around her head. Rose was a little chilly, "We can head inside if you want, well, I know I want" said the girl as she stood up, touching the other girl on the shoulder and waving for June to follow her.

"Wow, that does sound intense. What kind of summer camp did you go to?" June asked, intrigued. Telling someone your whole life story in that short amount of time was a crazy level of bonding. She couldn't begin to imagine what would require an exercise like that outside of a cult, maybe. She laughed at her gesture to her head. That certainly sounded like a lot on her plate, and she knew that advisors typically liked to encourage exploration in the first year rather than students claiming to have the entire college experience planned. At least, that was how her own advisor came across when Juniper told her that she knew she wanted to be an art major. "Yeah, we can go inside. It is kind of cold, huh?" She grabbed her bag and stood up, asking, "Anywhere in particular you had in mind?"

"It's the christian camp that my bio mom wanted me to go to. I only went once before freshman year of high school" said Rosemary, brushing it off. It was a weird task for sure. Definitely not something to do with someone new to her, and when she was just making sure she was good for Stevie. "Yeah this weather gets me sometimes. I usually can brave the cold but sometimes it's too much" said the girl as they headed inside, "There's some seats in here." Rose put her backpack down and crossed her legs as she took a sip of her coffee. "So, I think it's your turn to ask a question" said Rosemary with a smile growing across her face. She wasn't sure what to ask the other girl herself yet. She didn't want to pry too much about the Stevie stuff, well at least just yet.

A Christian camp. That made sense, she supposed. Juniper had never been to one, but she could imagine that they would be all about deep emotional connections. "Got it. Must have really stuck with you if you still remember that." Following Rose into one of the buildings nearby, June chose a seat and settled into it, dropping her bag to the ground beside her feet. "Alright, let's see," she said, bending to rest her arms on her knees. "What made you want to join a band?" she asked, looking at the other girl curiously.

Rose thought for a second, "Well I was in a duo thing, with a friend and when that fell through, Stevie suggested that I start playing with her and Wren and it kind of all went from there. Now we have Casey, and it's just been really nice" she explained, "I've always been drawn to music, I think it ... it just makes everything so much better. Walking, talking, working out, pretty much everything but homework but that's because I have to focus. I wish that life had background music like TV so that you could know more about how everything was going. It just adds so much to the moment." Rose loved music, so deeply. It was a huge part of her being. "How do you feel about music?" she asked.

"That's awesome. You guys are pretty good. I try to go to as many gigs as I can. Do you think you'll make something of it, or is it just for fun?" she asked. She realized that this follow-up question was technically not allowed yet, but she couldn't help herself from asking. She had never actually gotten around to asking Stevie that question; they always ended up distracted. "I'm with you there, except I do listen to music when I do homework. That or just like hectic background noise helps me focus, believe it or not. I mean, music has always been in my life, so I love it. Probably a strange mix, but my music library ranges from, like, Clairo, to Saweetie. Then, of course, I have a soft spot for some Disney music."

"It's just for fun right now, but if we keep going and things really pop off ... I mean we will have no other option than to be big" she said, as she laughed a little. Considering how much Rose commanded attention, she had no intention of ever being famous. But if the opportunity presented itself, how could she say no? Rose nodded in agreement when the girl talked about having a large range of music, "Me too, Clairo is definitely a favorite, but I listen to a lot of indie stuff in that genre. Relaxing music definitely calms me down when I'm being too much" Rose replied, "You can tell a lot about a person from whether they prefer show tunes or Disney music" the girl added. It was just something about the vibe, and not to mention there was a huge difference between people who liked disney channel music and disney movie music. It was a whole thing.

Juniper nodded and laughed along with the girl. "I would judge you if you didn't take the opportunity to go big if it came along." She liked that it was a 'just for fun' band; she imagined that made things less stressful than if they were trying to make it in the music industry. She had no doubt that Stevie would one day since she seemed to live and breathe music, but from what Rose had said about her desired major in political science, she assumed that Rose had her own separate dreams. Her taste in music wasn't bad from the vague answer she got, but June hadn't been much more specific. "And what can you tell?" she asked, curious. "Which one do you prefer?"

"Not putting too much weight on it means that we get to have a lot more fun. I know at least I'm a student first, Stevie just kinda goes with the flow with everything. I wish I could be like that, but I'm pretty sure my whole life would fall apart" Rosemary explained. She had to laugh when June asked more about how you can learn a lot from people based on what they prefer when it comes to Disney or show tunes, "Well it all comes down to the energy of the person when they talk about it. Both camps can have some really uppity people, or like people who are absolutely obsessed. Don't get me started on Disney adults, or my twin for that matter, she's constantly ready to fight any disney adult she sees anywhere" the girl added with a laugh. "But to answer your question, I do like Disney music, but I'm more of a Disney Channel listener? Like if I were to listen to disney music I would be popping in some Hannah Montana 2 / Meet Miley Cyrus type of girl."

Juniper laughed and sat back in her chair. “Yeah, I don’t know how she does it. I like that about her, though,” she admitted. It was nice to be around someone who was so flexible. She thought about what Rose was saying about Disney music. It made sense. June wasn’t obsessed herself, but she knew people who were. There was definitely an energy about them. “That’s cool. I watched Hannah Montana, but I was definitely a High School Musical girl. Was Hannah Montana your favorite Disney Channel show, or did you have another one?” She hadn’t talked about the Disney Channel like this since maybe the beginning of high school, but it was refreshing. With all the stress of college, it was nice to feel like a kid again.

The thing about Rose was that Stevie really balanced her out. She was the perfect amount of relaxed to deal with Rose's rigidity and future planning. She listened to what June had to say about Disney, and she shook her head, "Me and Marina were very tune in to suite life. Hannah Montana being a close second" said the girl, realizing how long it had been since she had been on this topic. It had to have been a few years at least. "But I totally feel you about High School Musical, the second one is my favorite though. First there's the iconic romance between Chad and Ryan, and secondly they did the most with their budget. Kenny Ortega basically invented camp as a concept, eat your heart out Met Gala 2019" the girl rambled, she got very into the conceptual idea of camp. She loved everything about it, it had so many rules but also none at all.

Juniper slapped her leg as the memory of the Disney show came to her. “Oh! Suite Life was amazing! Lincoln and I used to wish we lived in a hotel, like, all the time. That was my birthday wish, at least. I also was obsessed with Wizards of Waverly Place. Alex Russo still has a piece of my heart, I swear,” she gushed. This must have been the ice breaker they needed because June suddenly felt like she was talking to an old friend. “Right? The second one is great, and you cannot tell me that nothing happened between Chad and Ryan. I mean, come on, they switched outfits... platonically? I call bullshit.”

"No episodes of Wizards has my heart the way that the vampires/werewolves arc does with Juliette and Mason? That shit gets me every time. I thought I didn't believe in love any more when I was a kid, I was heartbroken for what felt like an eternity" Rose geeked out for a moment. That was around the time that she started to really go boy crazy. Thanks Mason. "If I was at an event and people left and came back wearing the other's clothes? Oh you know something went down" the girl added with a giggle. She was happy to be getting along with Juniper so well, not that she had any expectation that it would be hard. She loved Stevie, so any extension of her should be enjoyable.

Laughing, June nodded along. “I definitely get that. I was very invested in so many of those plots. I hope you believe in love now. Honestly, the part I loved most was the friendship between Harper and Alex. That’s goals.” Talking about the show made her want to rewatch it. Honestly, thinking back, she realized that she probably hadn’t watched it in a couple years. She grinned at Rose, eyebrows raised. “Facts. What other possible reason exists for that? I’ll tell you right now. There isn’t one.”

Rose took a sip of her coffee, her mind drifted to how hurt she had been in high school. Of course she still believed in love, she just didn't know if she could trust anyone to hold all of her love. It was too daunting of a task, but she did not need to talk about that with her new friend. They were definitely friends, this was good. "The Harper stuff was a little rough every once in a while, but I'm glad they didn't make too much fun of her. Like I get that she's quirky, but she was the butt of the joke a lot. Makes me sad, because she was always in Alex's corner." It was definitely time for a rewatch, she would put that on her list. "It's just such a director choice, I can't imagine having a fight with someone, making up, and then just switching clothes. I get the symbolism is that they can finally see from one another's point of view, but I think something definitely occurred in the locker room" she said with a slick smile on her face. She was surprised at how comfortable she was being weird around this girl already, usually she kept things very pristine around new people. Humor comes later, and especially children's niche character analysis.

"Ugh, yeah, don't remind me," Juniper mumbled, groaning. Harper was eccentric, yes, but she was sure of herself. That was something to admire, not make fun of. Unfortunately, she got that high school students did make fun of anything outside of the realm of normal, and she had been one of those stupid kids a couple times. She had never been truly mean, though, and she tended to befriend the "weird" kids in high school more often than the "popular" kids--they were more fun. "Aside from Alex, for obvious reasons, Harper was my favorite character. She's honestly so underappreciated." Juniper laughed at the comment about the locker room paired with the expression on her face. "I like you, Rose. You're funny. You've got great taste in Disney Channel shows, too," she pointed out. She wondered what else she and Rose might have in common. It had taken her a little by surprise when the girl approached her to get to know her, but now that they had talked for a few minutes, June was sure a great friendship was on the horizon.

She thought for a minute about who her favorite character was, "I think side character wise, it's definitely Zeke. He's adorkable. Main characters, Alex is the obvious choice. Justin was cute, but so deeply annoying and hyper-fixated" said Rosemary, as if the mirror wasn't up to her face right now as she described herself. "I would agree that we both have excellent taste" said the brunette with a laugh, "and I like you too, I have no idea how we got onto this conversation, but it's definitely worth it." She was thankful that she was going to get along with Stevie's new girl, as surprising as it was that she was thankfully and finally moving on.

Juniper nodded, appreciating the girl's answer. They were all great characters, so there really wasn't a bad answer for a favorite. "Justin isn't terrible, though. He had his moments when he was sweet or funny," she pointed out. "But yeah, I don't know how we got on this topic either. While we're here, though, what else do you like?" She leaned down to her backpack and grabbed her water bottle, which was covered in stickers. Several of them were related to pride, but she had some of Studio Ghibli films, Avatar: The Last Airbender, cats, among others.

"Well, why don't we let the waterbottles speak for themselves?" said Rosemary, pulling her hydroflask out from her backpack. It was also covered in stickers, about Star Wars, feminism, comic books, and her favorite songs. "I see we both fall victim to sharing too much of our personality on our belongings" the girl teased as she let out a little laugh. Her laptop was adorned the same way.

Raising her eyebrows in anticipation of what Rose was on about, June laughed when she pulled out her own sticker-clad bottle. “Amazing. I don’t know what you’re talking about, though. I have so much more personality than this,” she teased. Her water bottle was covered with essentially everything about her. Rose’s looked a lot more neat and manageable. She held her water bottle out and asked, “Want to trade and check them out?”

"Oh I bet you do" said Rose, chiding back. "I would love to trade" said the girl as she passed over the pink water bottle. "Studio Ghibli fan, I see" Rosemary observed out lout, "and pro-pun, that's always good". She scanned the water bottle for more things, it was funny seeing how they had the same idea but had executed it so differently.

Juniper took the pink water bottle in one hand while she passed her turquoise one to Rose. The first sticker she saw made her laugh. “I love this uterus one. It’s perfect,” she commented. “And yes, very pro-pun and big Ghibli fan. How could you tell?” She turned the bottle over in her hands, looking at the other stickers. “Avengers... nice. Spider-Man is my favorite. I love Cap, too.” She saw the wave sticker and stopped, looking up at Rose. “No way, you know this piece? I mean, I guess it’s not obscure. I’ve seen it on tapestries and posters in people’s dorms. I feel like I’m totally going to disappoint you by not recognizing the space thing in there. I mean, unless it’s NASA related, my guess is Star Wars?” She had been told many times that she should watch the movies, but she had never taken the time to do so. All she had seen were snippets of the first couple episodes.

"I am a huge cap girl, but my favorite is probably Wanda. I've been watching her new show religiously" said Rosemary, excited to be talking about the things that she loves. She smiled when the girl recognized the play on art, "Yeah it's The Great Wave off Kanagawa, one of my favorites. It depicts a large rogue wave, but yes also Star Wars ... another kind of rogue" she said with a smile. Sometimes she felt like a rogue wave, and it reminded her that you cannot control everything. It was one of her therapists tactics a while ago. It made her think really hard about how there was beauty in the uncontrollable. "Are you a Star Wars person? Because I will admit I have not seen any Studio Ghibli and paid attention, always getting distracted" Rose added. Maybe one day they could do a movie marathon, watch both of their things. But that was a lot to ask from someone she had just started to get to know, she just loved media content. Anything she could get into, she got into it a little too much.

Grimacing a little, June looked over at Rose, almost sheepish. "I haven't seen it yet. I really want to, though. Wanda is a badass, for sure." She quickly relaxed back into her seat, and the grin she'd been wearing appeared on her face again. She chuckled at the comparison of The Great Wave and Star Wars. "I love that, very clever." She had been unsure about how to answer about being a fan of Star Wars until Rose mentioned she hadn't really watched any of the Studio Ghibli movies. "I'm not, no. I mean, I know some of the plots and characters, even a few quotes, but I don't remember if I've ever actually seen any of the movies all the way through. My brother is always trying to get me to watch them."

"Wanda is 100% badass, the show is trippy though. It's fun watching youtubers work through their fan theories every week and comparing them to the comics" Rosemary replied, she had done her fair share of reddit postings, but she would say that there were plenty of people way more informed than her. "I'm kind of a media junkie sometimes" she said with a little laugh, "and a big star wars nerd, so obviously ... like the rest of America, I do recommend you give them a full watch." Rose took a small sip of her coffee, "But I guess it would only be fair if I watched some Studio Ghibli, so I will keep you updated!" Rose smiled at the other girl, this whole afternoon was very pleasant. Juniper was a good match for Stevie, and she could see the other girl getting along with her, Wren, and Casey anytime she came around.

She was intrigued by this girl’s passion for the topic. Tilting her head in curiosity, she asked, “Do you read the comics? For Wanda or any of them, really.” She wasn’t big into comics, herself, but she had read a few and enjoyed them. The art alone made her want to read more. There were so many styles in the comic world that she was surprised at herself for not being more into them. “Alright then, if you’re going to watch some Ghibli, it’d only be fair if I watched some Star Wars. I’ll let you know when I start that.”

She usually didn't talk about comics with people, but at home she had a temperature controlled space for her comics. It was a little more than an interest, it was a collection. "Yeah I read the comics from time to time" she said simply with a kind smile, "but there are a lot of people way more into it than me." She was excited at the idea of them leaning about what the other one liked, "Sounds like a plan to me, let me get you my number and you can text me whenever." Rosemary unlocked her phone and opened up a new contact before passing her phone to the girl.

"Hey, I don't think it matters if other people are more into it. Your interest is all that should matter, right?" Juniper said, lifting a shoulder in a casual shrug. "That's pretty cool, though. I've read some of the Spider-Man comics and then some from The Runaways. The art is stunning in that one. Have you read those?" Talking about it made her want to go back to reading them. She couldn't remember exactly why she had stopped--probably just distracted by something else. June hadn't planned on talking to this girl today, let alone getting her phone number, so the statement took her by surprise. Rose was interesting and apparently not the type to sit idly by and wait for things to happen. She'd have to mention to Stevie what she thought about her friend. She was pretty cool. "Alright, sure," she responded with a hint of laughter in her voice, pulling out her own phone to open a new contact. She traded phones with the girl and put her number in, saving the contact under june.

When it came to anything, Rose had a compulsion to just be the best or the most invested. When it came to fan culture it was overwhelming and too much to take in. "I have, I love Spiderman" said the brunette as she finished up her coffee. Rose smiled as her phone was passed back to her, "I have to go, my itinerary for the day is jammed" said the girl as she got her bag. "I will see you around, June." Rosemary headed out of the building and off to do her planned tasks of the day, but she had enjoyed taking an unplanned break to talk to Juniper. It had been a pleasant surprise, and she was glad to have a new friend. [END]

#rosexjuniper2 #threads || juniper2 and rose #juniper2 and rose || 001

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