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boysplanetrecaps · 11 months ago

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The Great Produce 48 Rewatch: Ep 3, Grade Reassignments Concluded

Welcome back, National Producer-nim, and Happy New Year!

This crazy Produce48 Rewatch project is just flying by! In episode 1, we saw the girls enter the studio and begin their auditions. In episode 2, we saw the end of the auditions and the dorm move-in, as well as the video evaluations for their final grade reassignment, which we covered in the previous post. Now, in episode 3, we’ll finish the grade reassignments, see the huge performance of Nekkoya, and see the beginning of the first Challenge Mission! Of course, in this post, we’ll only see as much as I can cover with only 30 screenshots, which is up to the end of grade reassignments. Feel free to watch along: https://kshow123.tv/show/produce-48/episode-3.html

We start off with a short clip of YGK+ model Ahn Ye Won on the phone with her mom. The 17-year old would-be idol can’t help but cry. In her journal, she has written “I started crying as soon as I called my mom. I told her it’s hard. I wanted to go home.”

This kicks off a montage of trainees expressing their doubts and fears. Future Kep1er member Kim Dayeon voice overs, “It’s a lot harder than I expected.” Previously voice-less Goto Moe says, “I felt like I lack a lot.” Show-punching-bag Shin Suyhun says she feels like she’s the only one falling behind, which is definitely not true. Friendly Choi Yena says she’s mad at herself. Kato Yuuka journals, “I feel like I’m facing a wall.” As we see Honda Hitomi’s cute face, we hear from Yu Min Young, the mint-colored-polka-dot auditioner, who wonders, “Is this all I got?” They’re all so tired, emotionally and physically.

But peppy music kicks in and the montage gets more cheerful, as girl after girl says something like “I want to debut!” and “I’m going to keep trying!”

After the title/credits, we get right back to where we left off at the end of episode 2 -- with the Great Grade Reshuffling.

As a reminder,

Jeremy* is giving the news to the A class

Psychopath giving the news to the B class

Cheetah giving the news to the C class

Mary J Lee giving the news to the D class

Dance Bae giving the news to the F class

*That’s what I call Lee Hongki

We don’t see much of Mary J Lee, but she seems really great. These are her grade-delivering heels!

Also, a lot of the Japanese girls aren’t present because they’re off doing something else for their AKB48 jobs.

So the plan for the Great Grade Reshuffling is to have the girls from the lower grades move to their new grades first. This means that the A-class will find out their fates last. Jeremy tells them that if a lot of new girls arrive in the A classroom, there is an even higher chance that they’ll move down.

Side note: It's interesting that Jeremy was chosen to deliver the news to the A-class girls. He wasn't their vocal teacher -- Soyou was -- so he would have been comparatively unfamiliar. It might just have been that Soyou was unavailable, but I could convince myself that they chose Jeremy because Soyou is too nice to mess with their heads the way that Jeremy does. (Clearly Jeremy is just acting on orders from production, of course.)

We've already seen a few people's grades, but let's see a few more, and then when we're done I'll tell you everyone's grades and the new makeups of each group.

First up is a trainee moving from D down to F. It turns out to be YGK+ model Choi Yeon Soo, who completely forgot the words during her video evaluation. We saw her being sweet to Sailor Mercury earlier on, drawing a little picture to encourage the 14-year-old to get some sleep. She seems like a really nice girl, even if she might be a nepo baby. It’s a bummer that she has to move down to F class, but at least she’ll get to join her equally nice label mate Ahn Ye Won, who has failed to move up from F.

Yewon laughs at Yeonsoo a little, but I don’t think it’s mean-spirited. From what we see of both girls, they seem really nice.

Next we see a trainee moving down to F from -- it’s Jang Gyuri from fromis_9, as discussed earlier. The girls are really really chincha chincha shocked.

There’s Huh Yujin, future Le Sserafim, wearing yellow, second in a column of two.

Next, there’s a trainee moving from D to B. And it’s Miru-chan, as we talked about earlier. The Japanese girls already in class D are surprised to see her, because she charming and they consider her a good dancer. But the judges think her singing is unstable and her dancing is “heavy,” like she’s getting twice as much gravity as anyone else. It’s just because she’s sad! Aww, Miru-chan!

Next, we’ll see a girl moving to C from F. Of course, Chiba Erii would love to move up to C -- she’s not confident about her singing but she is confident with her dancing. But as we know, she’s staying in F. Dance Bae says, of Erii and her dancing, “Every time I see her, it’s so sad.”

She really does have an arresting face, though.

So who is moving up from F to C? Well, as previously mentioned, it’s Goto Moe, the one with laryngitis on audition day.

She says she thinks the trainers are giving her a C for "chance." Aww, this is sweet. She’s still a pretty terrible singer but hey, she’s getting better. Ganbatteyo, Moe-chan!

Who moved to C from D?

It’s Very Pretty Girl Kim Minju, who has also proven herself to be a Very Hardworking Girl. Dance Bae says, of Minju’s audition, “She’s not very good, but she doesn’t deserve to stay in D.” That’s Dance Bae for you! It’s accurate -- Minju’s singing was sometimes on key, but sometimes a few tones off, and though she seems to have done the whole dance, she still doesn’t exactly own the floor. Still, it’s great improvement. Minju, fighting!

She voice overs something kind of sad: “I was told that I’m ambiguous. I’m not very good at singing or dancing or even acting. Then it said C next to my name for my final grade. I thought I was always ambiguous. I was disappointed.” I get what she’s saying. She’s so pretty that the entertainment industry is looking for an excuse to put her on screen, but she doesn’t really stand out with any particular skill. Aww. At least she seems fairly self-aware.

Next to Minju in the shot above is Nakanishi Chiyori, who wore the pink fluffy skirt in What's Your Name?. Looks like she’s not thrilled with moving up only one spot. Hey, take your wins, Chiyori!! Some people in F stayed there -- it could always be worse.

Next, someone is moving from C to B -- let’s see who it be! As mentioned in a previous recap, it’s Son Eunchae, future Bugaboo, who got so much story focus. She seems pretty happy, though -- not annoyed that she didn’t get into A class.

But who *did* make it into A class, stealing spots from the current A-class girls? Even though the spots aren’t limited?

First, it’s Kim Shihyun, future member of Everglow, who literally comes running in to the A-classroom. She’s obviously delighted to be there.

We see a clip of her evaluation video, and obviously, she does great.

Next is Ah Yujin, who also moved up from B.

Also moving up from B is little Kang Damin (label mate of flat tummied Hwang Soyeon) and future Rocket Punch Juri.

I hate that the staff told the A girls that if more girls moved up from lower ranks that they were more likely to move down, because as the lower ranked girls enter the room, no one seems happy to see them. Kind of a rotten welcome. Of course, that must be editing, too. I bet Soyeon was happy to see Damin.

Moving up from C are Ko Yujin (“Hyuna lookalike”) and Honda Hitomi, as I mentioned earlier. We see a clip of Hitomi’s previous practice that we’ve never seen -- Soyou saying that Hitomi has one of the weakest vocals among all the Japanese girls. The judges were all shocked at how much she had improved. Wow, that’s great! I love that. (Kim Nayoung, future Lightsum, also joins, but we don’t see her come in.)

The A-classroom is starting to fill up. Jeremy, piling on the pressure, tells the girls that they should know that there was also a girl who moved up from F class all the way to A, but that she’s in Japan right now due to a scheduling conflict.

We get a cute scene of Jeremy telling Yabuki Nako that she moved all the way up to A, via video chat. She screams and jumps up and down. It’s adorable. Her dream came true!

The new members of A-class: Kim Shihyun, Kang Damin, Ah Yujin, Juri, Kim Nayoung, Ko Yujin, and Honda Hitomi

Now that the new members of A class are there, the current members of A get their new grades. They aren’t supposed to react or spill the beans, so as to maintain the suspense (that I already ruined).

Who is this formerly A-class person walking through the door of B-class?

The Starship girls -- including original-face-Wonyoung -- are shocked that it’s…. Yuehua's Choi Yena.

She looks so different without her cheerfulness and without her ponytail. It must have been weird for her to experience the happiness of her Yuehua labelmate joining A class, only for her to almost immediately leave it behind.

Now, who’s this coming into Class C? MNET drags it out, of course, but it’s… Kwon Eunbi.

She sits down behind Kim Cho Yeon (fire eyes girl) and Kim Doah (future Fanatics/GP999), who have also both moved down from A class with her, and quietly begins to cry. None of them really has the strength to comfort the other at this point.

Kim Su Yun, future Rocket Punch and current labelmate of Eunbi’s, covers her face to hide her tears. Suyun probably didn’t come on this show genuinely hoping to make the top 12 -- she’s here for exposure, mostly, and the experience -- but she knows that 22-year-old Eunbi really NEEDS this.

Eunbi tearfully explains that she feels bad because as an unnie, she always tells her younger labelmates that they can do this -- and she feels like she broke her promise.

Back in A class, Jeremy announces that the trainee who is moving down to F should go now. Someone stands up, and no one looks that surprised, just sad. They saw her recording her evaluation video and knew that something like this was possible, even likely. A pixelated blur moves down the hall and makes its way to F class. Who could it be? The F class girls are shocked to see that it’s Jo Yuri, one of the Chewing Gum auditioners (she was in the lemon yellow).

We see a clip of her evaluation video, in which she completely froze. Poor kid. She’s only 16. When I was 16, I had a fight with my mom the night before the SATs and I couldn’t sleep all night, like not at all, not even for 10 minutes. I was just seething with rage and I couldn’t make it stop. I had to go take the SATs on no sleep at all and I just stared at it, like, what is this? What is 2+2 again? If my whole future had rested on that exact test, my whole future would have turned out quite different than it did.

Thankfully, I had another chance, and thankfully, Jo Yuri will have another chance too, when she does some of the upcoming missions. So it’ll be ok, Yuri.

Now that Yuri and the other “failures” have been kicked out of the room, Jeremy tells the 14 remaining A-class girls that they will be the center of the big performance of Nekkoya.

And here is the final arrangement of trainees:

New group A:

Before, there were 15 members of group A. After, there were 14 members of group A. Obviously, no one moved up, but 9 members moved down. 8 new members joined.

Left to right, top row then bottom row:

Kang Da Min, the li’l baby in pale yellow at the audition with her flat tummied teammate, Soyeon, future member of Queenz Eye, moved up from B

Ko Yu Jin, very pretty “Hyuna lookalike” who did Lip and Hip, moved up from C

Kim Na Young, future Lightsum, did I Don't Like Your Girlfriend, moved up from C

Kim Si Hyeon, future Everglow, had been on PD101 season 1, moved up from B

Na Go Eun, future Purple Kiss, was in A all along

Sakura was in A all along

An Yu Jin, future IVE, moved up from B

Yabuki Nako, who moved up from F to A like an absolute monster!

Lee Ga Eun, the Pledis giraffe and former member of After School, in A all along

Lee Chaeyeon, future soloist and famous older sister, in A all along

Lee Ha Eun, the “mini-Chungha” little 13 year old, in A all along

Juri, beautiful future Rocket Punch Juri, assumed her rightful throne, moving up from B

Honda Hitomi , auditioned with Mister by Kara, moved up from C

Hwang So Yeon “little Sunmi” with the flat tummy, was in A all along

New group B:

Before, there were 25 members of group B. After, there were 20 members of group B. 17 members left. Of them, 4 members moved up, and 13 members moved down. 12 new members joined. 3 came down from A, and the other 9 came up from lower grades.

Left to right, top row then bottom row:

Kim Dayeon, future Kep1er, was in B all along

Kim So Hee, future Rocket Punch, moved up from C

Kim Chae Won, future Le Sserafim, was in B all along

Kim Hyuna, husky voiced Hyuna, was in B all along

Nakano Ikumi, who is known for her dancing, moved up from D

Jurina was in B all along

Motomura Aoi, sweet-faced Aoi, moved up from D

Park Minji, future Secret Number, was in B all along

Bae Eun Yeong, mint Chewing Gum member, moved up from C

Son Eun Chae, future Bugaboo, got a lot of story focus, moved up from C

Yu Min Young, who did the Celeb Five song wearing mint polka dots and who Psychopath told her she had no charisma, moved down from A

Yoon Eun Bin from CNC school, who may have a crush on Psychopath, was in B all along

Jang Won Young, the Giant Baby herself, future IVE, was in B all along

Cho Kahyeon, the non-IVE Starship trainee, was in B all along

Cho Ah Yeong was in B all along. She’s from FNC and auditioned with Cherry Bullet’s Haeyoon

Choi Yena, future soloist, who auditioned with the two future Everglow members in the first audition, moved down from A

Kato Yuuka moved up from C. She wore the furry orange collar in Funny People.

Kojima Mako moved up from C. She was in Playing With Fire with Juri.

Takeuchi Miyu, the talented singer/song-arranger who sang in that fabulous orange bulls-eye dress in her audition, moved down from A

Han Cho Won, future member of Lightsum, moved up from D

New group C:

Before, there were 22 members of group C. After, there were still 22 members of group C. 18 members left. Of them, 9 moved up, and 9 moved down. 18 new members joined, 9 from higher levels and 9 from lower. It's all very symmetrical.

A lot of these names are probably familiar by now, so I’ll only review those who we haven’t talked about a ton.

Left to right, top row then bottom row:

Kwon Eunbi - moves down from A

Goto Moe - moves up from F

Kim Dahye - from Banana Culture, moves down from A

Kim Doah - future Fanatics/GP999, moves down from A

Kim Minseo - was in C all along, yellow polka dots in Celeb Five

Kim Minju - a Very Pretty Girl, moves up from D

Kim Suyun - future Rocket Punch/Queendom Puzzle, stays in C

Kim Choyeon - fire eyes girl, future Bugaboo, moves down from A

Naiki Kokoro - was in Funny People, moves up from D

Nakanishi Chiyori - was in What’s Your Name?, moves up from D

Matsuoka Natsumi - distinctive face, was in Never Ending Ferris Wheel, moves up from D

Murase Sae - was in Funny People, moves up from D

AleXa - moves down from B

Wang Yi Ren - future Everglow, Chinese, moves down from B

Imada Mina - tall, no bangs, was in Never Ending Ferris Wheel, moves up from D

Lee Seunghyeon - aka H1-Key Riina, moves down from B

Lee Yu Jeong - future Lightsum, was in C all along

Lee Chae Jeong - future Alice, was in C all along

Ichikawa Manami - shorter hair, was in What’s Your Name?, moves up from F

Cho Yeongin - auditioned with Shower, moved down from B

Choi So Eun - auditioned with Question Mark, moved down from B

Tanaka Miku - auditioned with the Banana Song, moved up from F.

New group D:

Before, there were 15 members of group D. After, there were 16 members of group D. 12 members left. Of them, 8 moved up, and 4 moved down. 13 new members joined. Of them, 9 came from a higher grade and 4 came from F.

Left to right, top row then bottom row:

Kim Yu Bin from CNC school, who auditioned with Team, moved down from B

Mogi Shinobu, the living meme girl from What's Your Name?, moved up from F

Muto Tomu, who auditioned with Juri with Playing with Fire, stayed in D

Miyazaki Miho, the multi-lingual queen who auditioned with What's Your Name?, stayed in D

Park Seoyoung, the blonde former YG trainee who sat in the Number One Chair, moved down from C

Park Chanju, who auditioned with Roller Coaster, moved down from C

Park Haeyoon, my new Cherry Bullet bias, moved down from A

Shiroma Miru, our Miru-chan from Queendom Puzzle, moved down from B

Shitao Miu, who wore the hat on her waistband during her audition to Mister, stays in D

Asai Yuka, who auditioned with Knock Knock, moved up from F

Asai Nanami, aka Sailor Venus, moved up from F

Wang Ke, the Chinese girl who wore red polka dots in Celeb Five, moved down from B

Yoon Hae Sol who auditioned with Question Mark, moved down from B

Lee Si An, former Idol School contestant and grape Chewing Gum girl, moved down from C

Iwatate Saho, who auditioned with Dancing Hero, moved down from B

Kurihara Sae, who had the great bangs in Never Ending Ferris Wheel, moved up from F

New group F:

Before, there were 19 members of group F, but 2 of them dropped out, so 17 members stayed. After, there were 22 members of group F. 9 girls moved up. 14 girls joined F from higher grades. 🙁

Left to right, top row then bottom row:

Kang Hye Won “Purity is all she has” - started in F, stayed there

Nagano Serika, who auditioned to Mister by Kara - started in F, stayed there

Murakawa Bibian, the little baby doll from Never Ending Ferris Wheel, - started in F, stayed there

Park Ji Eun, future ex-Purple Kiss, fell from C

Park Jinny, the former YG trainee/ future Secret Number member, fell from C

Sato Minami, aka Sailor Mars, owner of Lemon-chan, fell from D

Shinozaki Ayana from What's Your Name?- started in F, stayed there

Shin Su Hyun, the one who auditioned by herself to Playing with Fire, fell from D

Aramaki Misaki, one of the girls from Never Ending Ferris Wheel, started in F, stayed there

YG KPLUS model Ahn Ye Won, started in F, stayed there

Yamada Noe, gravelly voiced girl who probably shouldn’t have been put in C in the first place, fell from there

AKB48 Oda Erina, who was apparently known for her singing, fell from C

Won Seoyeon, who I thought did a great audition with Heroine in her blue plaid dress, fell from C

Jang Gyu Ri, from Idol School / Fromis_9, the pink Chewing Gum, fell from B

Little Cho Sa Rang, who we saw sweetly singing Tomorrow from Annie, fell from B

Jo Yu Ri from Idol School, the lemon Chewing Gum, fell from A

YG KPLUS model Choi Yeon Soo, fell from D

Tsukiashi Amane who applied her name tag up really high in Never Ending Ferris Wheel, started in F, stayed there

Chiba Erii, aka Sailor Mercury, started in F, stayed there

Hasegawa Rena, Noe's partner in the audition, fell from D

Heo Yunjin, future Le Sserafim, fell all the way from C to F.

CNC School’s Hong Ye Ji, who auditioned with Dayeon and the other CNC girls, fell from B

At some point around episode 3, Tsukiashi Amane withdrew from the competition, so this is our chance to say goodbye to her and see how she’s doing now.

After she left the competition, she went back to HKT48 and performed with them until 2020, when she graduated, saying she wanted to leave the J-pop sphere. However, in 2022 she debuted in a J-pop group called Fruits Zipper. Per their website:

FRUITS ZIPPER is a 7-member idol group consisting of Tsukiashi Amane, Matsumoto Karen, Manaka Mana, Sakurai Yui, Hayase Noel, Nakagawa Luna, and Chinzei Suzuka.

The group was formed from participants in ASOBISYSTEM’s idol project KAWAII LAB. The group’s name combines FRUITS, meaning ‘to bear fruit,’ and ZIP, meaning ‘to give energy.’ The group’s concept is ‘from Harajuku to the world,’ and the group will transmit what they call ‘NEW KAWAII’ from Harajuku, an area known for fashion and individuality, to the world.

From collaborating with renowned creators to selling out monthly concerts, the girls have already made a name for themselves at numerous large-scale events despite having only just debuted.

Even before FRUITS ZIPPER made its debut, the girls attracted plenty of attention with their stunning visuals. With their cute image and incredibly powerful stage performances, the group has already captured the hearts of fans around the world.

They’re doing a thing and honestly, I’m here for it. That’s Amane in red in the middle.

This is either their most popular MV or an ad for Beanie Babies. I’m not 100% sure. I’m not adding it to my playlist, I guess I’ll say.

Her tiktok is pretty active, as is her insta. Looks like she’s dabbling in gravure a bit, and also doing some modeling for magazines and brands. Get that money, girl!

Ganbatte and Happy trails, Amane-chan!

And that's it for this post! I'll see you in the next one, when I provide a bit of analysis on the overall grade changes. We're getting close to the first challenge mission. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great New Year!

#produce48 #produce 48 #bpr recaps p48 #le sserafim #iz*one #ive #rocket punch #jang wonyoung #takahashi juri #everglow #akb48 #Mary J Lee #jo yuri #choi yena #an yujin #huh yunjin

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zjpg · 1 year ago

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idk if this is trauma-dumping. it might be so this is your warning ig lol. (mentions of weight (a lot), death, being left out, mean friends? idk it’s a lot i’m just ranting.)

EDIT. THIS IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF TRAUMA DUMPING AND TURNED OUT TO BE LONGER THAN EXPECTED I NEEDED TO LET SOME SHIT OUT.

idk why but i kinda realized that my personality is solely based off of my friends. like. idk. and i don’t necessarily enjoy my personality. i feel like i’m mean, annoying etc. and i think i realized this when i stayed away from my friends for a while. i went and loved with my grandparents for a while and i have like a completely different personality.

i just try to match my friend’s personality, or maybe it whoever i’m talking to or hanging out with. cause i’m hanging out with different friends today and tm and i feel different.

i love my friends. but sometimes i just want to be treated and perceived differently. idk i think it’s why i’ve been trying to shift and why i write fanfic. i kinda always dreamed of this main character persona ig. because idk if anyone knows this but i am overweight. i think on the bmi scale i’m borderline obese (which tbf the bmi scale is a piece of shit tbh - coming from someone who to a medical class for the last two years)

but yeah i’ve never been the skinny pretty friend. if you’ve ever heard the song “fat funny friend” that was basically me throughout my school years tbh. and in elem and middle school i had some friends that definitely gave me trauma because of how they treated me.

now my current friends are just kinda mean, maybe it’s more of one specific friend who i’ve had trouble with in the past. idk around her i can never just feel good about myself. and it’s clear that since i’ve last seen her, her values have changed. and idk it’s kinda hard to come to terms with that because we’ve been best friends for so long. i spent the entire pandemic with her (we literally lived together tbh. like if she wasn’t at my house i was at her and we couldn’t survive 24 hours without each other)

again it’s just sad to feel like i’m less than. esp having like, she struggles with her body image too. which i feel like most people do and that’s okay, and she is skinnier and i feel like if most people would see her they would compliment her for her body. nonetheless it’s very normal and acceptable for her to dislike her body. sadly it’s normal at least (because of unrealistic beauty standards) however. whenever she’s around me and our other friend (who’s smaller than me but still considered plus-mid-size? which we have talked about together many times because can understand each others struggles) anyway the first friend will always make comments like “i feel/look morbidly obese” “i look fat” etc. and again it’s valid to feel that way but at the same time when i (again borderline obese) look at myself and then her and she says that. i literally wanna crawl in a whole and never show myself to the human eye again

idk if that makes me sound like a bitch or selfish. but she knows i’m bigger, we’ve talked about it before. and when our other who (who has been working out and trying to better herself and her health) sent results of her past few months of working out, proud of herself. friend 1 came in sending a body pic of herself in workout clothes says she looks fat and i got so she has to go work out (or something like that) and that’s upsetting to us but especially friend 2 because she is just trying to be happy about her body but then friend 1 comes in and says that her body isn’t enough and she has to work out even tho her body compared to mine and friend 2 is amazing

and i don’t wanna sound like she can’t have insecurities or she can’t talk to us about her insecurities. she can. we always do (friend 2 and i) but i hate the way she (friend 1) talks about weight. and like. another thing. whenever someone annoys her or makes her mad she calls them fat. usually along the lines of “fat bitch” “fat ugly bitch” and she makes fun of their bodies. even if they have the most perfect body. and ofc with years of friendship, we’ve had times where we didn’t get along and when we were pissed at each other. so it makes me wonder what she has said about my body behind my back.

there was a time kinda recently where i got drunk and friend 2’s party and because of some event with friend 1 that happened in the earlier evening. i said some shit. i was black out drunk tbh, i don’t remember anything. but i remember some stuff. and i feel horrible for saying it. but when friend 1 and i talked about she was like. kinda being mean. which i completely understand. but she wasn’t letting me get my point across. she wasn’t hearing what i had to say. and she wasn’t validating any of my feelings that i clearly have been having for a long time (i never act like that when i’m drunk) and maybe i sound really bad here because i obviously did make a huge mistake that like still keeps me up at night even now (it’s literally 2 am). and i say there and i listened to what she said and i validated every fucking feeling she had just like i always do. but she didn’t care to listen to how i felt that night.

there’s so many instances that has happened to this one friend where she just talks and makes up excuses and demands that you validate how she feels without doing the same back. (because she’s not an angel either) there was a time where we were a group of 4 before we had a falling out with friend 3. and friend 1sts a whole group chat named “besties without lucie(me)” when all 4 of us had a gc called “besties”. and i didn’t know for months until friend 2 called me and told me everything. how they made plans without me had the gc without me. and anytime friend 2 would bring up my name friend 1 would make excuses as to why i “couldn’t come along”. i couldn’t be in their secret gc because i was “too sensitive” and her reasoning for not coming to outings was usually because i “said i was busy” (i was never asked if i wanted to hangout. i found out through snap and life 360 that they were out without me). she even used my aunts passing as an excuse as to why i couldn’t go. even tho when her grandma passed she came over to my house unannounced and me and my mom had to take care of her for days because she was so depressed.

i cried myself to sleep during those times. and because it was around christmas my mom let and my brother open gifts early in order to cheer me up and she would go out and hang out without me. and now i have such bad trust issues with not only that friend group but everyone around me. i hate being left out. i’ve always been left out like my whole life.

idk i just. i want nice people around me. i want people who validate me and my feelings and i want to be included for once in my life.

#just ranting #can you tell my therapist hasn’t talked to me in months ???#i just needs to let my feelings out somewhere #ignore this if you want #tell me if i’m wrong about something #educate me ??#ranting

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forjongseong · 1 year ago

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*knocking* since it’s written there

lol me reading something about studying as soon as i finished my exams🤡🤡. and it’s a studying for stupid IETLS. it’s not a studying it’s more a (stu)dying. hate everything that starts with sty- and ends with -dying.

so why heeseung getting the same score as before seems so funny to me??? and his excuse “i’d have gotten less without you”🙄. hope these tutoring sessions really helped him and he doesn’t have any problems during his study abroad. jake hoon hi🤭

okay okay okay that little interaction between y/n and the waitress!!! please tell me why do the waiters always want to pick up the dirty dishes right after i eat the last bite? they’re hunters with hawk eyes sometimes. what if i want to sit around dirty dishes a little longer mhm??

and student! jay being late reminded me of sec! rookie jay🥹 despite the fact that he came late he definitely called the impression. what an impression!! y/n was lowkey panicking admiring his handsomeness.girl same. we understand her cause look at him!! he doesn't have to do anything and i drool over him. tmi. a majestic black cat. jay’s never beating the black cat allegations fr.

him wanting a higher score than heeseung it’s just a boy moment. yk like boys comparing their dick sizes or number of hookups. boys🙄

AND WDYM WRTING ESSAY THE WAY JAY DOES IS WRONG????😟😟 i do it the same way??? for whole my life??? bro you should’ve written this fic a long time ago so maybe now my essay writing skills were at an all time high hdhdhd.

why was she surprised when he called the students stupid? if they don't listen to tutor who they paid money to who are they if not dumbasses?🤡 jay speaking facts right there.

y/n can’t stay mad at him for being late? simp behavior! him inviting her over to his house? act of a predator i think. nah forget it!! he just too cute with his nervous rumbling. like a virgin 🤭

EVERYONE PLEASE RISE FOR JAY IN RIMLESS GLASSES.🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️MAN LOOKS WAY TOO GOOD IN THEM. and without them too.

false and not-given questions!!!! bro i hate it with all my heart and soul. always confuse me. jay and me in the same boat. we’re besties😎. just listen i can totally see with my eyes that needed information isn’t written in a question but what if i’m THAT stupid and i just didn’t comprehend it?? this type of questions is like “choose a correct answer: 1) a+a=2a; 2)a+a=a^2; 3)a+a=a”. fuck them.

“If I get the answer right,” he began, “would you show me your boobs?” OKAY I GET IT YOU’RE BOLD BRAVE DARING. “Alright, why not? Nothing to lose here,” NOT OKAY GAHSGSG. she should’ve not fallen for it. i honestly didn’t expect her to say that. i thought she’d react like a responsible tutor with “are you out of your mind? are those questions that hard to answer? i can explain it to you again” and laugh it out. but she’s wild and we love it.

NAUR JAY YOU PUSSY😭😭😭 YOU DARED NOONA TO SHOW YOU BOOBS YET YOU CHICKENED OUT NAUR DON’T BE LIKE THAT. AND NOOO CONSTRUCTION WORKER PLEASE READ THE ROOM. he surely doesn’t have a nunchi (plz get this joke🙏).

“I meant like, I think I could get motivated a lot if there was a reward waiting if I get a question right. Or if I reach a certain score in a mock test, don’t you think?” sure sure let’s see where your little game takes you. sorry it reminded me of dog that waits for the treat after completing the trick🤡

“Well, you’d probably be getting in between something.”…and you brought your hand to your thigh, patting it. STOP THE MADNESS RIGHT THERE. I CANT HANDLE IT.

*clearing my throat* *cough cough* usually 7.5 rounds off to 8 so Jay could receive a blowjob hahah. the makeout🤌🤌🤌 please kissing licking sucking jays birthmark😫😫 that’s all we want. is that too much to ask?

“Seamless,” he commented as he eyed your panties. would be cute if it was polka dots or striped panties🤭.

so jay is that of boyfriend who prioritizes his partners pleasure over his own? huh? and his fingers?? the way they curl??? he plays the guitar doesn’t he?? you have be good with fingers for that no?? once chance jay one chance im begging.

“It’s unfair,” Jay began, “the way you taste as good as you smell.” sir it’s unfair the way you look hot as you sit as you breath as you walk as you exist. you shouldn’t talk about the unfairness in this situation.

“In that case,” you said, pushing his chest slightly so he could move away from you. You tugged down your panties that had stayed on the whole time, and when you took them off your ankles you handed them to Jay. ughhhhhhghgg i just know he was jerking off holding panties with one hand right under his nose. like 🤤🤤

okay where the angst came from???😃😃 “I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me, but I also don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” the audacity. HAGAGAGAGAG BOY YOU FUNNY. made my giggle at night.

“If I get over 7.5—”“I’ll treat you to lunch.” what it's like to get the same thing in return? pleasant right? nice jay. good job. and you tell me he’s the top student in class? bro is stupider than these students who didn’t listen to y/n’s advices in the first part of fic. even though he get 8.5 he still stupid.

“The day of our last meeting when I said I needed to remain focused. I was trying to confess to you.” see!! who confesses like this??? only stupid boys. i get it. jay is just a book smart. what if before y/n noona he only saw human body in med books😱😱 he’s nerd after all.

“When I said if I get more than 7.5, I was going to say I wanted to eat you out.” top5 phrases to ruin the mood.

why he’s teasing her!?!?! why he’s teasing us?!/!/! please just fuck her already with your huge and thick and beautiful (i just know it) dick!!

“Tell me if it’s okay to move,” he whispered ever so gently before kissing your nose. but a point to him waiting till yn adjusts.🥹

Your hand was looking a little lonely, so he took it and intertwined his fingers with yours. fhfghfg “your hand looks heavy. can i hold it for you?”🤓

“So, what are we?” You asked in the most straightforward manner. TOP1 PHRASE TO RUIN THE MOOD.

GIRL I REREAD THE REWARD FOR THE THIRD TIME AND ITS 6 AM I DIDNT GET ANY SLEEP IM OVERWHELMED BYE

I read this review three times already and it's hilarious every time omg not you DRAGGING jay and literally calling him book smart, brave and a pussy in the same sentence, stupid and smart in the same sentence I AM CACKLING

glad you think it's wild because that means I achieved something... this is still by far my favorite one shot i have ever written for jay!

#by far best feedback too!#more like because none gave lengthy feedback lol #and i oop #nanaanswers #nana smile file #nanafeedbacks #fic: the reward #from.eva #p.s. if anyone is looking for an online IELTS tutor i actually AM one

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sophiepatztone · 1 month ago

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Week 4: September 26th

This week I focused on narrowing down my topic. I took my MoMA "poems" and made posters out of them:

I reflected on the Bianca Bosker book talk notes I took last week. Biggest takeaways:

I can feel art's barrier to entry, like walking into a gallery asking myself if i can be there

It’s easy to disregard the process that takes an artist from nothing to finished product. I think that’s where some of the gap exists in culture is that people only see a finished product and not the thoughts, ideas, and intentions behind it.

I agree, artists are treated as “impractical dreamers.” If people look and them and see wasted time, I would urge them to consider their own interests. What kinds of things do narps spend time, money, and energy on that is comparable to art?

She said “Artists create images that introduce incongruities, such as a plate of sushi made with eyes instead of fish. Artists defy our expectations, such as by sticking a pearl-clad woman in wrestling helmet inside a padded room.” That reminded me of a youtube video I watched a few weeks ago about understanding Contemporary art

I read through my notes and the comments on the video and it was really negative it just made me mad 💀 And I questioned if this was really my problem to solve. I still don't even understand some Contemporary art and I think some of it is stupid.

“Criticism is nothing more than having a template and putting it over the new art and seeing what matches up” -Diana Bush

I tried to form a point of view:

The gap in knowledge around Contemporary art is how to educate people who don’t understand it. My research focus is propaganda and aggressive forms of marketing, from the point of view of a marketer.

Why don’t we play into the narrative that contemporary art is unattainable, something that only highly educated people can understand? Make it an inside joke.

And I did a study based on this point of view:

I can't help but wonder if I'm am fighting a losing battle! Who cares if people don't understand art?

I think this is something I can explore through form. Anything I make is going to be considered Contemporary Art just due to the fact that I'm making it now. Do I really want to make Contemporary art about Contemporary Art?

One other thing I observed last week at the MoMA was people taking photos of the art. Not really news to anyone, but why are we spending more time taking pictures of art and us in front of the art instead of looking at it? To prove we've been there? Same vibe as taking a photo of the professor's notes on the board and then never going back to it. Or taking full videos of concerts or fireworks. Who is actually going back and looking at that?

Camera Tourists come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them don’t really care to see the art. They just want pictures to post on social media so they can say, “Look what I got to see today."

According to Psychologist Linda Henkel, there’s a psychological reason why you remember less when you take more pictures — she’s dubbed it the “photo-taking impairment effect”, and even tested it out in her own experiment.

I tried to rework my POV. I am stuck. Give me feedback please.

Appropriation artists. "Pop artists reveled in reproducing, juxtaposing, and repeating everyday images from popular culture in their wide-ranging work."

Our interactions with art in a gallery setting and how social media has changed our interactions with it.

License plate letters that flash when traffic cams try to take a photo of them

This is kinda coming full circle back to the subtopic of commodification. There’s something here that I’m not seeing.

How social media devalues artwork

Does appropriation devalue or give new meaning?

Help.

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thenomadinside · 10 years ago

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Welcome to Atlanta: Definitely in the South

Back in mid-January, I made a spontaneous last minute decision to visit a close friend in Atlanta, GA. This long-awaited excursion down to the South had been an ongoing discussion amongst my friend group for approximately two years but it all never amounted to anything except talk and speculation! Our musing had dragged on two years too long but in the end, I’m glad that we were finally about to make this trip a reality.

We decided to only spend a long weekend there, so not a whole lot of time to explore but just enough to get a taste of the South. I find it truly a fascinating idea to be able to visit an entirely different geographic location within the span of just a weekend. As I’m currently in my senior year, I have been wondering about how to maintain a balance of work and play once entering the dreaded territory we all acknowledge as “the real world.” It’s probably unrealistic to believe that one can do these sort of weekend trips, but hey I can dream right?

As this was my first time flying to the South, I really had no idea what to expect, which was in a way sort of thrilling. Immediately after landing and stepping into the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Airport, I was struck with the permeating smell of fried chicken.

The first thought that came across my mind was, “Oh, I’m most definitely in the South.”

Seriously, the entire airport smelled like greasy, fried chicken heaven. I would never have expected it but the Atlanta Airport is mad huge and it took what seemed like forever just to get from my terminal to the other end of the airport. I purchased a “Breeze” card which is what people here use to get around and took the Marta, a local train that I kept mistaking for “Martha” to the North Avenue Station.

After getting off the train, I was able to take a stroll around the campus, soak up Georgia in all its beauty and meet up with my friend. What I love about Georgia is the colors from the sky—everything looks as if it has a pink/peach hue filter overlaid on top of it. Is this also another reason why Georgia’s namesake is the peach?

https://i0.wp.com/www.thenomadinside.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Screen-Shot-2020-06-18-at-10.42.16-PM.png?w=1310&ssl=1

Conveniently enough, located right next to the World of Coca-Cola was our next expedition—the Georgia Aquarium. The Aquarium was super spacious (at least comparatively to the Boston Aquarium I went to last week with some friends) that contained a wide variety of creatures I haven’t seen elsewhere. I spent maybe way too much time intently observing penguins waddling around and ruffling their feathers. There is something so therapeutic about browsing through an Aquarium, possibly because everything is filtered in a cool blue hue. As Tom Ockerse always says, blue is the most pleasing and relaxing color. I also was able to see a Beluga whale for the first time. I swear I made eye contact with one for a hot second.

The rest of the trip primarily included exploring the campus, learning about the pros and cons to Georgia, eating a sinful amount of unhealthy Southern food, drinking, playing card games, and a surprise celebration for my birthday! The morning my friend and I were supposed to leave early for the airport, both of us overslept. I woke up approximately an hour and a half before our flight—woke up my friend, rushed through packing, ran all the way to the Marta train station, took a 20 minute ride to the airport, caught a transfer train to our stop, printed our boarding tickets, breezed through security and ran to my gate. I made it with less than 5 minutes before the flight left. Living life dangerously tsk tsk.

It was an amazing weekend trip and can’t wait for more of these. Georgia, I will be back!

#welcometoatlanta #travelatlanta #thenomadinside #travelvlog #digitalnomad #nomadlife #nomadlifestyle #georgia

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firethekitty · 2 years ago

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talking about my favorite Owl House scene & Hunter’s facial expressions!!

my favorite scene in The Owl House (so far!) happens near the end of Hunting Palismen.

Hunter turns on Luz as soon as she lowers her guard. she honestly probably knew it would end this way, but figured that like. no one has ever shown this dude kindness in his entire life, so she wanted to give him a chance. a bit naive, sure, but she’s not stupid. just has a lot of love to give!

Hunter is in an aggressive stance here, he’s like a loaded spring. his eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze is very hard and sharp. his staff is trained on Luz, like he’s expecting her to try to run or fight back. He’s prepared for that.

what he’s not prepared for, however, is Luz just outright confirming his own suspicions about Belos and basically saying that Hunter is a bad person if he goes through with his mission.

she specifically says “you’re not my friend, you’re just the golden guard”. that is what ultimately gets to him, and the screen cuts to one of my favorite shots in the entire series.

it just lingers silently on this frame for a good 3-4 seconds and he doesn’t say a thing, even though you expect him to. you expect him to get mad, to outright deny it, but he’s just stunned to silence. his eyebrows are pinched and his eyes are wide; the lighting is actually softer in this scene compared to the last, a lot less hard shadows, and comparing the frames over each other, Hunter was actually manually redrawn! the lines are much thicker and rounder, most noticeably on the hair and clothes. whether this was on purpose or not i’m not sure, but it’s certainly effective. he looks younger, in a way. much more vulnerable

i really wasn’t expecting it the first time i watched. it literally took my breath away because like! for as admittedly-little screen time hunter had gotten (at the time), we could already tell that he doesn’t like to show much emotion. he responds to pretty much everyone who isn’t his superior with anger or smug pride. so this is the first time we actually see him doubt. doubting belos, doubting his mission, doubting himself.

there’s so much emotion in just his eyes. this guy, this kid, who’s spent almost 3 entire episodes fully-masked and hidden away. you can immediately tell that what Luz said cuts deep. “The Golden Guard” is pretty much all he knows, but he doesn’t really… want that anymore. he’s starting to get disgusted by it.

so he disengages his staff and pulls his mask down over his chin. he’s purposefully making himself vulnerable and exposed, literally baring his scars to her. it’s so beautifully-symbolic because like.

“The Golden Guard” covers his face. Hunter doesn’t.

then he tells her his real name, in a way i interpret as like. “(no, i’m not the golden guard. at least—i don’t think want to be, anymore. i don’t know what i want, just please don’t call me that. i’m sorry.) my name is Hunter.”

with animation, a lot of very subtle (but usually very important) facial and body language can be lost in the translation from storyboard to finalization.

(extremely unfortunately, i couldn’t find a storyboard of this specific scene. according to Rhea Dadoo, an artist on the show, they weren’t able to be recovered from the transition to working from home. i’m genuinely bummed about that because i would’ve loved to see this shot in storyboard!!)

anyway, just my opinion of course, but i believe this is a good example of some emotion being lost during the process of animation. but honestly Zeno Robinson’s absolutely superb acting more than makes up for it, so it’s really not a big deal at all. just something i’ve noticed!

however, The Owl House is extremely good with replicating expressions from storyboards to finalization! Hayley Wong’s boards in particular are fucking amazing with body language

this scene really fucks me up. i’ve spoken about it before and if i start i’ll add another 1000 words to this BUT the way Hunter immediately puts all of what remains of his trust into Luz is just. so beautifully-written. he is so fucking terrified here, silently pleading for her to save his life.

this is a deleted scene that would have occurred after the Eclipse Lake scene! Luz reaches out for Hunter in an attempt to comfort him. Wong said she’s glad it was cut because it makes the climax even more impactful, which i agree with!

but. man… he doesn’t ever really voice his thoughts until he starts making friends, so he lets his emotions out solely with body language. this is definitely a result of years and years of abuse from Belos. (a scene that comes to mind—“my apologies, i spoke out of turn”)

basically this was when i realized that this show did the impossible, making me feel genuine empathy for a character i had already fully determined as “annoying & bad” in my mind. i’m very happy they did because Hunter my best friend Hunter’s character & development is ridiculously well-written, one of my favorites in recent memory. i have a lot more to say but this is super long already but! i love this dude

#this is long but i thought i’d force all of you to read it bc i’m extremely autistic about characters and storytelling #the owl house #hunter #character analysis #talking #long post #conclusion: ummm so yeaaa das it lol #and i’d love engagement on this i spent like 2 hours writing and researching 😭 can you tell the semester is over #toh

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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order’s up!

— Osamu gets a big order of some rather strange rice ball combinations an hour before closing. He doesn’t expect that he’d find the customer who ordered to be so damn cute.

pairing: miya osamu x reader word count: 2,387 genre: fluff, post manga timeskip

a/n: first haikyuu fic and aHH it was so fun to write ,, i didn’t expect osamu to be my first but here we are and tbh i am not mad~ ;) FJSDHKJ hope u enjoy!!

“One unagi onigiri to go-- Your order’s ready!”

A middle-aged man stood up from his seat at the waiting area and headed over to the counter, thanking Osamu for the fresh onigiri and making brief small talk. As the man left, Osamu looked at the customer next in line, thankful there was only one person in here so close to closing time.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he stated when your gaze met his, lips quirking up to give his best customer service smile.

You nodded with a warm smile of your own before looking down at the phone in your hands, murmuring what he thought sounded like “salmon, plum, beef, extra green onions, heavy on the seasoning.” Now, he liked to think there were no rules to onigiri, but part of him did hope you wouldn’t ask for all those ingredients in one gigantic, imbalanced rice ball. Maybe you were reciting a large number of individual orders.

He shrugged. Money was money, and all onigiri was good onigiri when made with his special Miya love. Miya love that was specific to Osamu in particular, of course. Atsumu could never recreate it even if he tried-- Not that he ever tried. The day he tried in something other than volleyball would be the day Osamu said he was the worst onigiri chef in Japan.

In other words, never.

Osamu hustled over to the cash register and you took that as your cue to step forward, hands fidgeting with your wallet and cellphone.

He smirked to himself in silent amusement. A shy one, were you? By now he had lost count of all the nervous and fidgety costumers he had gotten at his shop, but to allow them to stay that way simply wouldn’t do. If his patrons weren’t 100% comfortable in his care--well, as comfortable they could be in an onigiri shop--it meant he was doing his job wrong.

As the owner of Onigiri Miya he wanted to make sure every customer would leave with a smile and a desire to come again soon. That was how he built rapport and got so many regulars after all.

“I can take your order whenever you’re ready,” said Osamu in a slow pace, encouraging you to slow your rhythm as you tapped your fingertip restlessly against your protective phone case. Were you in a hurry? You seemed rather antsy, but he went on. “There’s no rush here.”

There was less than an hour until closing and he figured you would be the last customer of the day-- Meaning there was no reason not to slow down. As much as Osamu appreciated how lively his hometown could be, he also enjoyed quieter moments like these.

Not everything had to be so loud. Not everything had to be moving so fucking fast all the time. And he learned that in some instances, he could just control the pace himself.

Your worried chatter brought him out of his musing. “Are you sure? Because I know you close soon and I really didn’t want to come in so late but the guys are still down over a loss and said this was their favorite comfort food,” you said, eyebrows furrowed in a tell of concern. “It’s kind of a big order, so if you need to start cleaning up for closing I can just go to another store-- Sorry for imposing!”

He blinked. He thought he just said there was no rush to imply he wasn’t worried and you shouldn’t be either, but you didn’t seem to pick up on that.

“Hey, you’re not imposing,” Osamu soothed, somewhat alarmed at your apprehension. “You said someone was down over a loss? You on a sports team?”

Losing sucked. Osamu knew this firsthand.

Sure, in hindsight it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but while it could sure feel that way sometimes. If it was bad enough, it could take a few days to really get over and grow from it. So hearing that Onigiri Miya was someone’s comfort food that could help cheer them up on days like those… That certainly gave him reason to puff his chest up a little more.

“Yeah! Well, kind of.” You moved your head side-to-side as if unsure of your answer. “I help assist the volleyball team at my university. It’s my last year in school and I’m sure all of the other fourth years are bummed too.” Catching the small frown on your face, you stopped yourself before it spread, clearing your throat. “But it’s okay! At least we all had fun. And now they’ll be getting some of their favorite food to cheer them up-- If you’re still taking orders, that is…?”

He nodded. “‘Course I am.” Osamu flashed you a grin intended to make your worries disappear. “What kinda store owner would I be if I couldn’t make your team their pick-me-up food?”

The two of you shared a look before you tore your gaze away, biting your lower lip to hide your smile.

“Thank you, then,” you murmured, unlocking your phone to what appeared to be a notes app.

Osamu picked up his pen with a short hum. “Ready to take your order when you are.”

“Right.” You stared at your screen in concentration before listing off what you had written. “Can I have three salmon onigiris with green onions, two umeboshi and mentaiko with light seasoning and ginger, one tempura and unagi with green onions and sesame seeds and heavy seasoning, two…”

As he noted your orders, some arguably stranger than others--not that he should be one to judge, what with his own peculiar preferences--he made a mental note of how cute your voice sounded and tucked it away in the depth of his mind. Was cute the word for it? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he guessed that sounded okay enough. There was something about hearing you talk that made Osamu want to hear more, even if it was just a list of onigiri ingredients.

He huffed. Weird.

When you finished he repeated back your order, affirming it was all correct.

“Great, so I’ll be with you in about 15 to 20 minutes with your order ready,” he informed as he held the paper with the dishes he had to make. “You can have a seat at one of the tables ‘til I return.”

You nodded at his words but hesitantly opened your mouth. “Erm-- Wait!”

He looked back at you, mere steps away from the cooking area.

“Is it just you working at this hour?” you asked, standing with your hands folded behind your back as you craned your neck.

“Yeah, we don’t get many late customers on a Tuesday night so I’m the only one closin’ today.” Osamu gave you a curious once-over. Bright eyes, nervous yet playful smile, cute outfit-- Damn, he sure was using the word cute a lot today. All in relation to you nonetheless. “Why?”

“Are you sure the order isn’t too big for you in this hour?” Once again, you were fretting. He reckoned he ought to teach you some relaxation techniques and tips of how to be less...selfless. “Do you need some, uh, help?”

The corner of Osamu’s lip twitched upwards. Help? What were you planning on doing if he said yes? Learn the basics of food safety and onigiri-making in less than 20 minutes so you could assist him in making your order?

Something told him that was, in fact, what you were ready to do.

Cute.

“Stop stressin’, sweetheart,” he said with a tsk, not bothering to hide his amused grin. “I’ve handled bigger orders than this. You just rest your pretty little head and I’ll be finished before you know it.”

Though you still looked concerned, you nodded and sat down, probably figuring you would be more of a hindrance in his onigiri-making flow than anything else.

“Don’t miss me too much-- And don’t even think of saying sorry or anythin’ like that!” His tone was teasing but he meant what he said. You were a customer at Onigiri Miya and he wanted no patron of his to be worrying this much if he could do anything to help it. “The store’s still open and I’ve no issue taking your order. ‘Kay?”

You blinked. “Okay. I… Thank you, uh, Miya-san.”

“Just Miya’s fine.”

“Right. Miya. Thank you.”

He sauntered off into the kitchen to get started with your order and as he went through making your onigiri, he hoped you wouldn’t still be feeling bad about a big order that wasn’t even that big compared to others he got. Besides, you had already paid for the order. There was no point worrying after the transaction went through.

Osamu soon made his way down the list of rice balls and, just like he promised, popped his head out of the kitchen along with three, full takeout containers in record time.

“For the cutest customer here tonight-- Order’s up!”

You perked up at the mouthwatering smell of his onigiri, pressing a hand to your stomach as you hummed. “I’m the only customer here tonight, but since your food smells so yummy I will choose to let that comment slide.”

Holding the bag of takeout in front of his, Osamu smirked at your surprisingly steadfast composure. You didn’t get flustered at his unabashed compliment like he thought you would, and for some reason that made you seem even more appealing.

As you accepted the order, he quipped, “Only customer here or not, you’re still the cutest.”

You wrapped your fingers around the handle of the takeout bag, the edge of your pinky brushing against his thumb. “Hmm, then-- I guess you’re definitely the cutest worker here tonight, even though it is by default.”

Osamu laughed, both in amusement and in happiness after finally getting you to feel comfortable in his shop.

“A compliment’s a compliment and I’m not above being the cutest by default,” he said with a lazy drawl, watching as you set the onigiri bag on the counter in front of you while easing into a conversation with him.

“As if you would ever have to win by default. You seem much too handsome and talented for that.”

It sounded like you were flirting. Were you flirting? He noted the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you lingered in the store instead of leaving once you received your order.

Yeah. You were so flirting.

“Cute.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” He smiled secretively but wouldn’t expand on what he said despite your questioning look.

You narrowed your eyes. “Sure, okay then.” Your fingers wrapped and unwrapped themselves from the handle of the to-go bag, like you didn’t want to leave just yet but didn’t know what was left to say. “Well-- Um, thank you for the order! I’m sure this’ll cheer the team right up.”

“And you as well, I hope.”

“Of course. I haven’t even tasted it but it already has.”

Just being here already has, is what you seemed to say. Osamu rather liked that implication.

“But… I still feel kind of bad for ordering all this so close to your closing hours,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the side of your neck like it had a knot. “I’m sorry.”

Osamu waved his hand at your words. “Please, what do you have to apologize for? Making me do my job?” he asked cheekily, his sideways grin showing teeth. “You shouldn’t feel bad.” He noticed the way you brought your lower lip into your mouth with uncertainty and he continued, “But if you still do...there is a way you could repay me and soothe those worries.”

You looked up, eyes widened. “How? I’d do anything.”

Dangerous words coming from such pretty little lips.

He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, unintentionally bringing your attention to his forearms. “Let me treat you out this weekend, yeah?”

Your gaze followed his hands as you nodded. “Yea--” You blinked to snap out of your daze and he stifled a laugh. “Wait, wait! Shouldn’t I be the one to treat you?”

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I were to ask you out on a date and tell you to pay?”

Maybe Atsumu would’ve made his date pay for their meal and activities of the day, but Osamu wasn’t him. Osamu had class.

“A date?” you parroted. “As in one with me? And you? Together?”

There wasn’t anyone else in the store he could be asking. Nope, just you and your awkwardly cute self.

Osamu nodded in affirmation. A date is just what he was asking you out on. “Well, only if you want, of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain the wide smile that threatened to spread across your face. “I wouldn’t mind a date with the cutest worker here tonight,” you teased, looking around the store before meeting landing on his face. “I still want to be the one to treat you, though. It’s the least I could do.”

As happy as he was that you didn’t reject him, he didn’t give. “Don’t worry about treating me-- Your company’s a better treat than money could buy.” You snorted at his pickup line and Osamu silently cursed his brother for saying that line would always work. And then cursed himself for believing it. “Look, I’ll pay. I insist.”

“I insist too.”

You held each other’s gaze, neither one wavering. He seemed to realize you weren’t going to give in, but he wasn’t planning on it either. He huffed, shaking his head, entertained. “Okay, then. How ‘bout we rock-paper-scissors it when the day comes?”

“Fine by me,” you laughed, hiding the bottom half of your face with your hand. He wanted to hold it in his so he could see the full smile you were covering, but Osamu decided he could save that for another time. “But don’t think you’ll have an easy win! I’ll have you know I play a mean game of rock-paper-scissors.”

“‘Course you do, sweetheart.”

And he didn’t doubt that at all.

As strange as the orders were and as nervous as you may have been at the start, Osamu found himself rather fond of you. Was working overtime worth it just for a date with a cute costumer?

Yeah, he decided. It was.

a/n: y/n’s vball team waiting for their comfort food after a bad loss while y/n and osamu are just there flirting after hours: 👁💧👄💧👁

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Palliate.

Pairing: Yandere!Witch/Reader.

Word Count: 3.7k.

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Amnesia, Obsessive Mindsets, Mentions of Violence, Blood and Bruising, Mentions of Death.

Mint, to settle your nerves.

That was the first thing he’d taught you, before you were strong enough to do anything more than sit on the edge of your bed and listen. Three leaves if you were desperate, two if you weren’t, and one if you just needed something to focus on, to take your mind off your own hazy thoughts and the places they tended to lead, when you let them wander freely. He said that was normal, that it should be expected. You’d spent so long incapacitated, it was only natural you’d be a little unsteady, once you finally got back on your feet. He said that it’d get better, over time, but you’d have to fight through it. You’d have to give yourself time to let it get better, even if there were little things you both could do to help.

The mint helped. Most of the time, at least. More than most little things did.

You tried to concentrate on the flavor, now, letting it distract you from the sun beating down on the back of your neck, from small bruises forming on your knees as you kneeled between rows of rue and sage and rosemary just far enough apart to let you tug at the weeds invading his otherwise pristine garden. It was a little odd to be outside the small cottage you’d become so closely acquainted with, even if you were only a few paces away, still hesitant to venture beyond the clearing you’d spent so much time observing while you were bedridden. You were still injured, technically, and you’d been told time and time again not to test your own limits. He said you should… You were sure you should be doing something, but—

“Didn't I ask you to rest?”

Right. That made sense.

You weren't supposed to get out of bed, just yet.

A hand came to settle on your shoulder, and reflexively, you glanced towards the man now lingering behind you. You really didn’t need to, though. His voice would’ve been enough, a calm drawl strung out into something playful, fondness coming easily and anger still a long ways off. He’d never gotten mad at you before, but the threat persisted. You didn’t want to be more of a nuisance than absolutely necessary, especially after he’d been so kind to you.

“There’s only so much sleep I can take,” You replied. You didn’t want to be a nuisance, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in bed, either. “I’m starting to think that’s your only trick, uh...”

“Eden, love. Just Eden.” There was a pause, his sly smile turning sympathetic. “Is your memory acting up again?”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be.” You were telling the truth. For weeks, you’d barely been able to hold onto your own name, let alone anything about your eternally patient host. But, Eden (you tried to remind yourself of that, to make a note of it, Eden) was kind enough to give you time. You needed time. You needed patience. “I found the door, didn’t I?”

“And it’s nearly been a week since the last time you wandered into the forest,” He noted as he crouched at your side, earning a small, offended noise and an elbow to his bicep, just forceful enough to warrant a hum, a slight pout, something between a whine and a chuckle. You didn’t want to stare, but you let yourself watch as his expression softened, as his gazed flickered towards the sprout of basil at your feet and a shock of white hair fell over his eyes. He looked like he was going to reach towards you, like he was going to touch you, but he stopped himself, letting his hand slip down to the satchel at his waist, instead, calloused fingers running over the well-worn leather.

You wondered what he kept in it, sometimes. You’d never seen him without it, not willingly, and he spent so long in the forest every day, he kept himself so busy with so many traps and snares and spots of ink littered across hand-drawn maps, it would’ve been impossibly to guess what he thought was worth keeping by his side. He brought enough of it back, bundles of assorted feathers and glass jars full of golden pollen and other things, stranger things, things you could barely catch a glimpse of before they were shoved to the backs of cabinets and forgotten about, on your end, at least. Eden didn’t forget about such important things as quickly as you did.

“It’ll get better,” He went on, finally, just when you thought he’d stopped talking altogether. “And, if it doesn’t, we’ll find a way to make it better.”

He sounded so sure of himself. You wanted to believe him, when he sounded like that. You did believe him.

You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t.

Ginger, to alleviate migraines.

It wasn’t for you, luckily. Of all the ailments you suffered from, you’d been left mercifully exempt from headaches and vertigo and all those minor, awful things that would make your life just a little harder than it had to be. If anything, your head was always a little too light, a little too empty, especially after so many hours of following the same unpaved road with nothing to think about but the passing scenery and Eden’s vague instructions, little more than a list of names and goods. Little to go off of, despite his insistence that you be the one to go.

You’d asked why he didn’t just go himself the first time he sent you on your way with a basket of herbs and roots, but Eden had only frowned, shaking his head. He said he wasn’t welcome, not in the marketplace, not in a village that’d already come to know him by name. He said that, if you cared for him at all, you wouldn’t subject him to a full day of haggling in hushed tones with women who refuse to sell mediocre incense for anything less than a small fortune.

And since you did (foolishly) care for him, you went. Not that you were anymore wanted in the marketplace than he was.

You hated it, compared to the cozy isolation of Eden’s home. You hated how crowded it was, how alien it felt to have to navigate the cramped stalls, how the merchant in front of you scowled as he weighed small bags of the exotic, colorful spices Eden was so fond of, the ones that you could never seem to taste the way you were supposed to, judgingly by how liberally Eden used them. He didn’t try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke, aged weariness mixed with a self-righteous reluctant. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t used to it, that constant trepidation from people who didn't understand you, from people who didn't care for Eden. At least he was kind enough not to hide it. “Running errands for the witch hermit, again?”

“Eden’s not a hermit.” You tried to smile, to brush it off as if was just another misconception. He wasn’t. You weren’t sure what he was, but he liked people, he liked having someone else around. Or, he liked having you around, at least. He didn’t seem to care much about company, beyond that. “He just enjoys his privacy. We both do.��

“Only a witch, then.” There was a pause, a gruff laugh that didn’t match his grim disposition. Something in the back of your throat tightened, and silently, you wished he’d be a bit more wary of you. Just enough to keep him from speaking so openly. “I’d take what you can and go, if I were you. He takes after his father, and that man spent his whole life makin’ a monster of himself, playing with things no one should. His son ain’t much different.”

It was your turn to laugh, now. “He cries whenever he finds fawns separated from their mothers. He takes in tadpoles he finds puddles. I don’t think Eden is capable of cruelty.” He was a kind man. You’d never seen him be anything but kind. If he had an ulterior motive, if he had a single sadistic bone in his body, you had yet to find it. “He took me in, too, when I was injured. He might be the only reason I have a roof over my head, now. That’s not a kindness I can say very many people have showed me.”

His lips pursed, the barest hints of confusion crossing his expression. It was gone in an instant, and you tried not to linger on it. He thought poorly of Eden, but the mere fact that you were alive – walking and breathing and alive – was enough to earn him your gratitude. Regardless of what a merchant and a marketplace worth of gossip thought. You knew what you believed, you knew what was true, and you wouldn’t let a few rumors convince you otherwise.

Although, you’d be lying if you said that belief didn’t waver, as he went on. “Cruelty isn’t all you have to worry about.”

You opened your mouth. Then, you closed it again, keeping your eyes on the basket still hanging limply on your arm. He wasn’t done yet, not with the spices, not with his poorly veiled warnings, but you didn’t want to listen. You could listen, you would listen, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to believe anything you heard in such a crowded place, in such an awful place.

You just wanted to get back to Eden.

Willow bark, to take the pain away.

It’s more of a comfort than a necessity, by now. You used to need it, rely on it, and you still liked to keep a bundle nearby, just in case, for days where the soreness was worse than it should be and you needed something to take the edge off, to suppress that overwhelming ache back into a steady throb. But, you never needed it, not like you used to. Not like you had when your injury was a defining feature rather than an afterthought and Eden’s medical expertise was more of a experimental artform than a practiced skill.

His hands didn’t shake, anymore, as his fingers skirted over your bare skin, following along the outline of your wound, the trail of stitches that stretched from the bottom of your shoulder bone to the center of your rib cage and repeated itself, carrying over again and again and again, forming neat rows of tender flesh and scar tissue that refused to stop any higher than your hip bone. He wasn’t hesitant, not with the needle, not as he pushed it through the long-suffering spots where he’d first messily laid your stitches months ago, and he didn’t have to look at you to recognize the way you shifted, the soft string of expletives you let out, to notice your little attempts to turn your head at just the right angle, flinch at just the right time to—

“Eyes on the ceiling,” He demanded. With a small huff, you obeyed, turning back towards the furthest wall. “It’ll only get worse, if you look.”

You knew that. He’d said as much as thousand times before, once for every day he'd tended to your lasting wounds. You were tempted to try, to insist it was only fair that you got to know what was going on with your own body, but you trusted Eden, and it was easier to tilt your head back than to argue, to search the cluttered room for something more interesting than the boy sitting at your side and your own, nagging discomfort.

You were in his workshop, now, an area separated from the rest of the cottage and filled to the brim with the tools of Eden’s trade – blooming flowers permanently encased in blocks of amber, the shells of insects hollowed out and ground into a fine powder, pots, everywhere, some empty and some not, the largest placed over a smoldering hearth that never seemed to grow dimmer, despite how often Eden forgot to tend to it. There was something inside, a substance you didn’t recognize, bubbling and black as a starless sky. It was already solidifying around the edges of its cauldron, crystallizing into rows of jagged, silvery edges slowly creeping along the coaction's surface like an infection. Like a parasite. Like something that shouldn’t have existed but continued to, regardless.

Eden must’ve caught you staring. The needle stilled, and instead, he took to dabbing something cool and smooth around the edges of your scars. A rag, or a balm, or a dozen other possible remedies. You didn't try to look. “It’s for you,” He explained, as if that made it any better. “One of my father’s incomplete recipes. He never figured out how to stop it from hardening once it’s exposed to open air.” Eden clicked his tongue, pulling the thread he was working with taut, and you cringed, tying to ignore the slight pinch. It didn’t hurt, not really, not like it used to. It didn’t hurt at all, if you were being honest, but it felt like it should’ve. “The color isn’t right, either. And I’ve already fed enough dye into the damn thing to poison a small village.”

You should’ve laughed. You wanted to, you knew it was the reaction he was looking for, but it was all you could do to avert your stare, to let your fingers curl around the edge of the table he’d perched you on. "They really don’t like you.”

“I’ve noticed.” A blunt response, not abrasive, but not encouraging, either. Not as dismissive as you would’ve preferred. “And yet, they manage to stomach my cures regardless. It’s funny how quickly pain softens the heart, isn’t it?”

“They say it’s unnatural.” You were pushing, now. You should know better than to push. You never found out anything good, when you tried to push. “They say your father used to dabble in things that shouldn’t be.”

Eden sighed, pushing himself to his feet. There was a short silence, interrupted only by the sound of glass knocking against glass before he dropped what he was holding, stepping in front of you and cupping your face with both hands, instead, forcing you to face him, to meet his dark eyes. Black eyes. Lightless eyes. A contradiction when compared his tanned skin and warm smile. A contradiction you tried to overlook as he bent down, kissing the top of your head so gently, you could almost bring yourself to ignore it altogether.

“My father was a toymaker and a healer. My mother died in childbirth. He did what he could to take care of me, and there is nothing unnatural about that.” He took a moment to laugh, to hold you, and you couldn’t be help but be thankful for it. Only weeks ago, he’d been afraid to touch you, afraid to watch you break all over again. Now, it was all he could do to let you go long enough for his arms to fall to your waist, for your face to find his chest, his tunic, a place to hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You didn’t want to go back, not to the village, not to the marketplace, not to the lonely, hurtful, desolate world outside his cottage. You didn’t want to go back to a place filled with so many people so determined to separate you from Eden. You didn’t want to return to a life you couldn’t remember, one where you wouldn’t have the man who’d saved you by your side. “He loved his family, just as I love you.”

For once, you didn’t have to convince yourself to believe him.

Witch hazel, to stop the bleeding.

You’d need it. You’d need a lot of it, more than you should for such a small cut, a jagged line drawn from the corner of your eye to your opposite check, thin but deep and bleeding, pouring out, washing over your hands as you tried to clutch at your face and rub away the damage, like a child trying to blink away a bad dream. Your legs might’ve been bleeding, too, the sides of your ankles, the backs of your thighs, your skin scraped raw in all the places you’d hit the ground as you tripped, falling over your own feet at your stumbled backward, but you didn’t check, you didn’t want to check, you didn’t want to see how bad it was. You didn’t want to take your eyes off the man in front of you, his towering stature, his grim expression.

His sword, silver and unsheathed and pointed at your heart, as it had been from the moment he first caught sight of you.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here, in Eden’s forest, only minutes away from the cottage you’d come to think of as your safe haven. He hadn’t asked for your name, he hadn’t mentioned Eden, he hadn’t said a word to you, not before there was a dagger flashing across your line of sight, a weapon quickly discarded for something more intimidating, something that’d let him stay at arm’s length while he approached you, his stare holding yours, his lips pulled into a thin frown. “I—” You tried, but your voice gave out quickly. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had threatened your life. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so scared. “Please, I didn’t mean to get in your—”

“Stop talking.” His tone was flat, apathetic, the barest hints of rage seeping through a weathered veil of neutrality. Immediately, you fell silent. “Who said you had the right to use that voice?”

You opened your mouth, but you thought better of it, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you bowed your head. You wanted to get back to Eden, back to his cottage. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to run, but you wanted to get out of this with your head on your shoulders, too. “Are you going to kill me?”

“It will not be a true death.” There was a pause, a reluctant hesitation. You pulled your knees into your chest, your hand still pressed to your wound, but the gesture didn’t seem to earn you any pity. “But, I am going to make this—”

He stopped, abruptly, his head attention towards something behind you. You heard it a moment later – measured footsteps, barely making a sound against the dead leaves and branches that littered the forest floor. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

Not when there was only one person who’d ever bother to save you.

“Adam,” Eden called, already positioning himself at your side. His hand was already on his satchel, toying with the buckle. Like he’d done this, before. Like he already knew it wouldn’t resolve itself peacefully. “There are easier ways to introduce yourself. If you put that sword away, I’m sure (Y/n) could still find a way to forgive—”

“Do not call it by that name.” He was focused on Eden, now, leaving you to fade into the background, to observe as his hands began to shake and he glared, baring his teeth, as Eden had done more than try to play peacekeeper. “That is not (Y/n). It doesn’t deserve to pretend it is, none of your abominations do. It won't bring— It can't—” He trailed off, his sword falling back to his side, his eyes clenching shut. You almost felt bad for him, your would-be murderer, but Eden’s expression remained cold, unbothered. Slowly, almost idly, he reached down, taking you by the arm and helping you to your feet, letting you tuck yourself against him as Adam finally found his voice.

“(Y/n) is dead. Nothing you do can change that.”

A moment passed in silence, still, deathly, frigid silence.

Then, Eden spoke.

“I can handle this on my own.” He didn’t deny it. He wasn’t denying it. Why wasn’t he denying it? “I need you to brew tea, Chamomile. Gather as much lavender as you can on your way home, until your pockets are full and you can’t carry anymore. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded, but you were still shaking, still unsure, still so, so confused. You weren’t dead. You could breathe, and you could think, and you ate and you slept and you weren’t dead. “I’m not.” You didn’t know who you were talking to – Adam, still clutching his sword, still ready to behead whoever his blade could reach or Eden, your Eden, the gentle protector who hadn’t looked at you once since his arrival. You just wanted someone to say it wasn’t true. You just needed someone to say it wasn’t true. “I’m not. I’m alive. I’m not de—”

“I’m in love,” Eden said, his voice soft. As if he hadn’t heard you at all. “Why does everyone act as if that’s so monstrous?”

You didn’t want to hear Adam’s response. You didn’t want to hear anything, not from him, not from Eden, and certainly not from your own frenzied thoughts, racing and only growing louder as you ran, sprinting, stumbling through the forest in any direction your legs would carry you. A crooked sob racked over your chest, and reflexively, you moved to brush away the tears blurring your vision, but you couldn’t feel yourself when you should’ve, it wasn’t flesh that met your cheek. Your eyes darted to your hand, a sneer already playing at your lips for whatever mud or decaying foliage had plastered itself against your skin, but…

But, you found a small trail of crystals, instead, silvery-glass that coated your palm, rows of jagged edges that hadn’t been there before, that shouldn’t have been there, where your blood had stained your skin only minutes ago. Or, where you thought your blood should’ve stained your skin. You hadn’t looked.

You hadn’t looked.

You froze dead in your tracks.

Slowly, our raised a hand to your face, to the cut carved into it, to what should’ve been a bloody, bloody wound. Something jagged met your fingertips, but you ignored the slight sting. It didn’t hurt. Not as much as it should’ve. Not as much as you wanted it to.

By the time you pulled away, your hand was covered with it. Thick, cool, forming webs between your fingers as you spread them apart. Dark. A kind of dark you’d only seen once.

As black as a starless sky.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere ocs #yandere witch #yandere fantasy #yanderecore #yancore

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in.

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

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oh-boy-me · 3 years ago

Note

Can I please see MC beating the brothers at something they would normally excel at? Thank you, and have a great day or night! 💚

Hello look I’m finally getting back to old requests! Surprise, 💚 anon!

Also, I chose specific things for MC to beat them at, because it made it easier to formulate thoughts.

Lucifer: Chess

Hmm. This is. He doesn’t like this.

He’s the demon of pride. He’s supposed to be--no, he is--the best at everything. Diavolo and Barbatos are the only ones allowed to hold a candle to him.

“Congratulations, MC,” he says out loud. “It was a fluke. I let them win. There’s no way they actually beat me,” he says to himself. He tries to hide his bad mood, but it’s pretty noticeable that he’s seething in his seat.

He needs to reclaim his throne, and they better not even think about letting him win or they’ll just make things worse. Is this a healthy way to handle defeat? Absolutely not. But a hit to his pride is a hit to his pride, and he doesn’t take those as well as he’d like you to think.

The only way for MC to remedy this quickly is to point out that he taught them these skills.

Honestly the fact that it was chess specifically doesn’t really matter. Lucifer is only fine with being second best at something if it’s luck-based (like Candy Land), or if he REALLY doesn’t care about it (like Candy Land).

Just kidding. He will destroy them at Candy Land if it’s the last thing he does.

Mammon: Card Games

I tried to keep things related to their sins out of this, because being beaten at your sin would probably make you question your identity. But with Mammon most of his hobbies seem to tie into his sin in some way, so I think this is our best option.

Anyway, Mammon isn’t happy about this by any means, but it’s also not going to ruin his day like it’d ruin Lucifer’s.

Like, he’ll grumble about it. And complain. Loudly. He might even spam the group chat complaining about it while MC is still right next to him shuffling cards, and then Asmo will say “lol” and Lucifer will accuse him of something unrelated and that’ll make him grumble more.

And MC might have to step in somehow to get him to stop pouting.

If they were playing for money, he’s gonna keep demanding rematches until either he wins or something forces them to stop.

Unlike Lucifer, Mammon will be fine with them letting him win.

But once again, that’s for the money, not really for his pride. He’s kind of used to losing at the things he’s good at.

Leviathan: Video Games

Hmm this is he doesn’t like this #2

Levi’s kind of built his identity around the things that he’s good at and the things he likes, so for MC to come in and upset that makes him, well, upset.

The first time sucks. Like Lucifer, he sits there stewing in his frustration. Unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He might even tear up, which definitely pulls on the heartstrings but he shouldn’t be such a sore loser.

The closer MC is with him, the less upset he’ll be over time, though. Because it changes from “this fucking normie came in and ruined everything” to “ahhhh dammit my friend beat me”.

Also, he’ll only get moody if MC beats him at a game he’s currently invested in. He’s not gonna be surprised if he’s a little rusty at Street Fighter II now, but ex-father have mercy on anyone who beat him at a DBFZ when it first came out.

He’ll only legitimately try to kill them if they beat his Ruri-chan platformer speedrun time.

Satan: Grades

Satan thinks it’s great!! He highly values being smart, but he doesn’t think it’s threatening for someone else to be smart too (except Lucifer).

If anything, he’s glad to know MC is someone he can reliably study and compare answers with. Most of his study buddies end up being impromptu tutoring pupils, and he’d really like to just study for once.

Maybe it's surprising that the avatar of wrath isn’t angry, but like, he seriously doesn’t see this as something to be angry about.

Of course, he’s still literally the sorest loser in the three realms. Never play games with him. But this wasn’t a competition, and I can’t exactly say he excels at anything that would be considered a competition. So yeah, MC manages to escape his wrath through a loophole in the ask.

Is he mad that he didn’t get full marks? Of course. But he’s mad at the teacher, not MC. Unless MC tries to rub it in his face, because that’s just rude.

Asmodeus: Design

I was gonna do like a popularity contest, but we’ve seen him go through one in canon and that’s not gonna really add anything new.

So! Let’s say he and MC’s designs were both candidates for something, and MC’s ended up being chosen.

Hmm this is he doesn’t like this #3

The problem is that while design has nothing to with his sin, and therefore his base identity, he sure seems to think it does. Asmo thinks his entire personality is the things he’s good at.

He’s simultaneously the easiest and hardest to deal with out of those who are legitimately upset. The easiest because while he’ll pout a bit, he’s going to properly congratulate them and it’s hard to tell that he’s upset when he’s giving them so many compliments and talking about how he’s gonna buy one of everything.

The hardest because he’s actually really passive aggressive about it. For a WHILE.

He’ll also definitely try to steal their ideas for the future, or seduce whoever’s in charge of making the final selection. It doesn’t matter if he got chosen legitimately or not, what matters is that he gets chosen period.

The best thing MC can do in this situation is get him to understand he wouldn’t actually be happy with a shallow victory like that.

Beelzebub: Sports

Another one who is very excited to have an equal!

Sports need more than one player, after all, and it gets really boring if your opponent is no match for you.

He’ll start to consider MC his friendly rival. He asks them what their training regimen is and what diet they’ve adopted, so they can compare it with his own (scaled down to be equivalent). Basically he gets information from them like Asmo does, but unlike Asmo Beel gets it by asking and shares the benefits with MC.

If there’s a sport that neither of them have tried before, he’d love to see how they do one-on-one as complete novices. He’ll do his best to be mindful of his brute strength advantage if it’s a sport where that would matter.

The only thing he could be upset about MC beating him in is those restaurant challenges where you finish a massive dish within a time limit. But even then, it’s not because he’s upset he lost. He’s more concerned about their health, because if MC beat him at that holy shit.

Belphegor

He doesn’t care.

This took so long to come out because I couldn’t think of something MC would beat him at that he would care about.

Slept longer than him?? He’s not gonna throw a fit about that.

And it’s not like he goes into things expecting to win; he barely wants to do things at all.

So yeah the answer for Belphie is it doesn’t matter what you beat him at, he won’t lose sleep over it.

Lmao sloth pun

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #💚 anon #it wasn't out yesterday because I napped for 5 hours then went to halfapps lmao

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with. Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. “He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

#bts x reader #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #the gentlemen #tgm #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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sortavibing · 4 years ago

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jubilee line I suna rintarou

this is a self indulgent sort of angst fic😌 i hope y'all enjoy

12:47 am, 2 weeks ago

"WHAT THE FUCK"

you stand up from suna's bed, where you were just laying with him a couple seconds ago, face flushed with anger. he looks up at you with lazy eyes and smirks, mocking you for your outburst

"what now baby"

he says, voice dripping with sarcasm, as he stretches, yawns, and resumes trying to fall asleep, making you even madder at his blatant disregard of your emotions.

"what do you mean what now you've literally been dating someone else for 4 fucking months, with no fucking regret at all! i've dated you for over a year now and it still seems like you don't give a absolute shit about me!"

"mhm keep on talking i understand completley..."

"and you still aren't fucking listening! do you even want to be together or is this just a sad attempt to have your sorry ass feeling less lonely?"

"well i'm clearly not lonely, because i'm dating someone else too. to be honest, you're kinda being clingy right now... so can you like, not overreact like you always do?"

"i...i overreact? this is overreacting? you literally fucking cheated on my and you have the fucking audacity to say that i'm being fucking clingy? we are literally dating! how the fuck do you expect me to not be mad at you!"

suna gets up, finally starting to show at least a little bit of emotion. he rolls his eyes, and then bites back with a calm anger that is just mocking you 100 times over.

"see? you are so fucking dense. you're the reason i cheated. why else would i date someone else if i still liked you? you are a clingy, annoying, overemotional little bitch. i honestly should've dropped you sooner if i didn't feel bad for your sorry ass."

he's fully smiling now, with this evil glint in his eyes as he saw tears welling up in your eyes. he looks happy, excited even at this turn of events. he wishes that he could video tape your moment of weakness, because right now, he feels like a god.

"suna, do you mean all of those things you said?"

"every. single. word."

"fine. i hope you have a terrible life you bastard. don't try to contact me ever again. who am i kidding? you wouldn't even want to! see you never."

you grab your jacket and walk out of his room, leaving his apartment and slamming the door, making the walls vibrate with the force of it. suna doesn't stop smiling. he knows you'll call back. you always do. no matter how many times he fucked up, you always came back. he'll just have to wait for a couple hours. he lays back on his bed, and then closes his eyes, not worried at all.

12:47 pm, present

Northern and Waterloo and City Lines, and National Rail Services This train terminates at Stanmore

suna blinks, the sound of the last call of the subway bringing him out of his daydream (nightmare?). you never called back. of course you didn't. you finally had enough and dumped him. he started walking a little faster, needing to catch the train, looking at his phone the entire time, scrolling through pictures of you, grasping onto the last things he has of the best year of his life. after you left, he immeditaltey ended things with the other person, he knew that they were nothing compared to you, so why did he date them? why did he do this? why? these thoughts plauge his mind constantly, along with the last words you said to him;

see you never

he looks at your number again, hoping, praying, wishing that you would text back, but there was nothing there but your last message, read over and over again. as he got onto the subway, he breathed a deep breath in, and out, gathering up the courage to text you again. he fucked up. and he knew it. you were everything he wanted, everything he needed, and he had to go and take you for granted. after a few more seconds, he typed something out, and pushed send.

hey

i hated to see you leaving

it was a fate worse than dying

i'm sorry

he looked out of the subway window at the dimly lit underground tunnels, hoping that you might forgive him, or at least hate him as much as you do now.

i hope you enjoyed!

requests are open :)

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu!!#suna rintarou #suna angst #rintarou suna #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyu imagines #haikyu scenarios #haikyu angst #suna scenarios #suna imagines #suna x you #suna x reader #suna x y/n

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid.

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is. Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail.

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them.

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match.

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one.

The newest addition to the list is her.

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible.

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him.

A trillion. At least.

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him.

“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening.

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior.

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book.

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach.

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him.

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it.

And probably because she just said it to me right now.

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence.

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity.

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.”

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels.

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.”

That surely kept us apart.

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that.

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work.

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age.

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.”

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?”

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me.

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too.

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me.

What was going on?

What is going on?

“What’s going on?”

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before.

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with.

“What do you think about me dating again?”

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue.

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is.

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch.

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that?

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought.

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish.

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.”

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.”

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine.

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?”

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …”

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag.

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one.

Red.

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice.

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect.

_ _ _

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes.

That story for later? This is the one.

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do.

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really.

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates.

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down.

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word.

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.”

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered.

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.”

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise.

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well.

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand.

If he kissed me.

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here.

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe.

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting.

I don’t wanna seem the way I do

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all.

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way.

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half.

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress.

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes.

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner.

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently.

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance.

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go.

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that.

But I’m confident when I’m with you

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained.

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it.

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke.

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable.

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me.

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again.

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.”

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said.

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.”

_ _ _

“In what way?”

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer.

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated.

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet.

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him.

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?”

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.”

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed.

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.”

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was.

“How am I wrong?”

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same.

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?”

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.”

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own.

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger.

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice.

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine.

_ _ _

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission.

I was the first.

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him.

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t.

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line.

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face.

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.”

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!”

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand.

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day.

_ _ _

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter.

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility.

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg.

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things.

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?”

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.”

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me.

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite.

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else.

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered.

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite.

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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