#by briefly i of course mean less than 24 hours

[jonathanbyersphd]

Something so "they had a fight" "then why are they still holding hands" "they get sad when they fight" about this image.

[imahinatjon]

How it feels to be ignored PT1

Dazai & Chuuya ⛈️

In which they ignore you and it reveals some problems with your relationship

Part 2

Dazai

Its been over 24 hours now and he hasn't texted you back. You know he's okay because he's been online and he's seen your message - that and you asked Yosano to make sure he hadn't successfully died or something.

But nope, he's fine.

You don't think he did it on purpose, probably just quickly checked your message made a mental note to check it later, which he subsequently forgot about. Still, it hurts.

It also has you thinking. You've been in a relationship with this man since he was in the Mafia. You never were part of the Mafia, just someone he met during his time there, and someone he got into a relationship with.

Even when he ran away from the Mafia he kept things going with you, and even now he's part of the armed detective agency, he's still going with you, and you love him more than ever now. But it just doesn't feel the same.

You don't want to hog all his attention, but it somehow feels that he gives you even less attention now than he used too. He forgets about you often, doesn't reply to your messages, forgets that he agreed to come over, forgets when he's arranged to meet you.

You always message Yosano to ask if he's still there or if she knows where he is 30 minutes after the arranged time for your dates, and come to learn that he's perfectly fine, just caught up doing other things.

You just feel... left behind. Like your part of his past that he's slowly letting go of as he gets on with his new life. Just another thing for him to leave and forget about.

You even briefly wonder if there's someone else, but you trust him enough to not be like that.

It does little to provide you any relief though.

You can't take it anymore.

--------

It's been 2 weeks since he last saw you, your last date having been a quick walk through the park - which was nice, but... it didn't change your mind.

You decided not to arrange any plans with him after that, and wait for him to arrange with you. But he didn't. And so now? You head into the ADA office, ready to break up with him. Preferably not infront of all his coworkers, you will of course ask to talk in private.

Alas, he isn't there. Ranpo and Yosano are present in the office, talking by the formers desk, they catch sight of you by the door, both giving you a sympathetic look. Yosano knows what your here too do, and ranpo being - well, ranpo, you assume he knows too.

"He's out at the moment. You just missed him" yosano tells you.

"Oh..."

"You could... write a letter and leave it here? We'll make sure to give it to him"

"I... okay"

You reluctantly agree and yosano gives you everything you need to begin, even Pulling out a chair so you can sit at one of the current vacant desks to write.

And with the detective and doctor looking over your shoulder, you begin your letter.

"Dazai..."

Chuuya

Chuuya didn't usually ignore you, so when he did, you didn't worry too much. At least until it had passed 1 day mark, then you worried a little - you knew the nature of what he did, but also knew he could handle himself.

Still, it concerned you a little when you sent him a message on a day you knew he had no work and he still hadn't replied to you a day and a half later.

Now, you weren't an idiot, and knew what this was probably about - his work. He'd voiced his concerns before, at the start of your relationship, and again during - he's worried about your safety. It's why he rarely ignored your messages and even checked in with you often, he cares, a lot. That just happens to mean he also worries a lot too.

And he does this sometimes. Just stops replying to your messages, hoping you'll drift away and leave him - find someone new and much less dangerous. In the end he usually came back, apologising and telling you about how worried he was feeling and what his intentions were. And fine, sure... but, it had been upsetting you over and over for a while so whatever his reason was rendered pointless now - hell, shouldn't have even been a reason in the first place, it was a shitty thing to do. You know it, he knows it, even the clerk in the coffee shop you frequent knows it - she's been telling you to just do it and break up with him for ages "since that's what he so desperately wants"

She did clarify to you that she didn't mean that sincerely since he's proven time and time again that he doesn't want to break up with you, but she also said that you can't keep doing it. Can't be trapped in an endless cycle that was clearly impacting you more than you initially realised.

You listened to her, because of course you did, there was sense in what she was saying. He cared about you and you cared about him, but you needed to take care of yourself first and foremost - and staying around waiting for him to realise himself was not doing you any favors. It was an emotional rollercoaster.

And enough was enough.

So when he came back, it was the final time. On your doorstep in the rain, you told him it was over - just like he wanted.

You knew it was a lie, you knew that wasn't what he (or you) wanted, but you believed if to be for the best. You couldn't carry on.

And he accepted that. Played as though that's what he'd been waiting for this whole time. Bid you farewell and wished you luck in the future, before walking away, soaked in the rain.

Even if it made you feel a little bad, you didn't go chasing after him.

_________________________________________

My own boyfriend keeps forgetting to reply to me 🥲

I wrote this to feel better lol. Will check it at a later date for any errors and such.

[radi0activesmile]

angel-dust-addict​:

“Dunno,” Angel replied tiredly. “Don’t get much in tha way'a days off. I guess sleep, play wit’ Nuggs, go see Cherri… Normal stuff. Nothin’ special. I’d ask about you, but I kinda doubt ya really got tha concept'a ‘days off.’”

All of which was true. Angel really didn’t do much on his days off that was particularly special. He didn’t have much special to do. His life was more or less consumed by his work. There was the club, and he spent upwards of six hours a night there. Plus whatever work Val had him doing at the studio, which varied. On top of that, there was time spent with clients. And with Val. He generally had about ten to fourteen hours out of the day to himself. Much of which was spent sleeping and/or recovering.

Meanwhile, Alastor had his radio broadcast. Which seemed like a lot of work, but it was work he imagined the deer loved. Alastor didn’t answer to anyone. Compared to Angel, who was generally at Val’s beck and call. Much of the time, Angel was too tired or too frazzled to do much of anything apart from just rest. Which wasn’t terribly exciting. Meanwhile, he could only imagine what Alastor got up to.

“What do ya do when ya ain’t broadcastin’ an’ shit?” he asked after a very brief pause.

Angel hit the nail on the head; Alastor loves his work. He’s stated, on more than one occasion, when attempting to sidestep the advances of his fans, that he’s married to his work. Since arriving in hell and establishing his radio towers, he has never taken a day off. Even on Extermination Day, while most are either hiding away or hoping to outrun the angels, Alastor continues his broadcasts. 

Of course, that didn’t mean he was hosting his radio show 24 hours a day. Most days, he broadcasts an early morning show and an evening show, leaving his afternoons and nights to do other things. “I do a lot of walking~” He answers casually. “I rather enjoy looking into the latest butcher shops and restaurants as they open, and I make it a point to see every theatrical performance that opens.” All of them. Even the critically panned ones. There’s nothing quite as entertaining as a total failure, after all! Alastor snips the end of the thread and tucks the scissors back into the small box. “And, of course, I spend time time with my dearest Rosie.” He pauses briefly, as if suddenly  remembering something. “Where is that little piglet of yours?” 

That’s right. He had wondered where the little creature had gotten to when they first arrived in Angel’s room, though he quickly forgot about the creature upon seeing the full extent of Angel’s wounds and the sheer amount of blood he had lost. 

angel-dust-addict​:

Angel was a bit wary of Alastor being as close as he was, but there was nothing really to be done about it. Alastor was trying to help. Besides, what did it matter? Whatever was going to happen would happen and he couldn’t do much about it. Alastor was certainly more than Angel could handle.

He did wince slightly when Alastor began working on the stiches. It was painful, but the pressure and tugging on the wound was more a cause of pain than the stitches themselves. Otherwise, though, he stayed still and didn’t protest.

“Yeah, I’m kinda gettin’ that,” he told Alastor. Alastor had never seemed to him like the type to take orders from anyone. “Gotta be nice.”

There wasn’t really any sarcasm to it, but there was a bitterness to his tone. It wasn’t directed at Alastor. It was more just general bitterness. There was still that overtone of exhaustion. The acknowledgement of his own circumstance seemed to weigh on him.

Were he on a bit more familiar terms with the spider, Alastor likely would have offered to let Angel squeeze onto his upper arm or shoulder in order to ease the pain, or, at the very least, lightly squeeze one of Angel’s own hands or knees as a simple gesture of assurance. Considering how Angel received these wounds in the first place; however, it’s best to keep contact to a minimum. If not because he’s The Radio Demon, because he is someone with power. Those with power do tend to lord that strength over those who can’t fight back. 

His eyes now focused on his work, Alastor doesn’t look up when Angel speaks. Though, his ears do tune forward just a hair. He can hardly fault the spider for sounding so bitter when he says such things. With everything that’s been done to him-- with everything that would be done to him were he to refuse to do as told again-- of course there’s a hint of resentment and malice in his tone... blanketed by a layer of exhaustion.

Ah, to continue to discuss this subject will do no good. Any further talk would only serve to rub it in. “What do you usually do on your days off?” Quite a drastic subject change, perhaps, though a necessary one in Alastor’s eyes. While he doesn’t feel he can offer a comforting touch, he can attempt to have Angel think of something more pleasant. 

[bubblesuga]

Weak When You’re Around

Summary: After a drunken night and meeting a tall man at the club, the reader realizes the fun is far from over. 

W/C: 1,921

Genre: college student!au, new relationship, fluff, smut

Tags: mutual masturbation, dom!Namjoon, oral (f receiving), namjoon likes to praise the reader, I’ll be honest there’s not much of a plot it’s mostly just smut lol

As your eyes blink open in the bright sunlit room, the white sheets nearly blind you while you recollect your thoughts. Club. Tequila. Tall man with big arms. 4 orgasms. 

Okay, you know where you are. 

The tall man is named Namjoon, he’s currently a Bioengineering student and spoke very enthusiastically about whatever song was playing in the club. He caught your eye briefly from across the dance floor and you knew in an instant that you were exactly where you needed to be. 

Sometimes, a chance meeting is all it takes.

However, your expectations on how the previous night would fall was completely different to how it ended up. Sure, you knew it was going to be good but good was just far too much of an understatement. It was... ravenous, brilliant, exciting. The man who took you to bed moved in ways that you had never experienced before. Dipping beneath the covers, voicing his arousal and encouraging you to move against him while his tongue danced between your thighs...

The way his lips ghosted against your neck in the aftermath, filling your body with a lull of protection, made you fall asleep in his arms. He inhaled your scent and kept you close, and it was the greatest night you had spent with a man in your entire life. There’s absolutely no way he could get any better.

Glancing to the side of you, you notice the bed is empty. Unusual considering how close he held you last night, for a moment you feel your blood run cold. It takes everything in you not to immediately assume that once he sobered up he lost interest. We’ve all been there. 

Slipping from beneath the sheets, you find the plain grey T-shirt he wore last night and slipped it on. If anything you hope he would allow you to leave in something a little more comfortable than the skin tight deep blue dress that your friend had insisted you wear. As your eyes travel across the room you spot a book shelf that you definitely didn’t see last night. Too involved with the scene in front of you, your surroundings became mere blurs of color because all you could process--all you could see-- was Namjoon. 

The book shelf is tall, made out of real oak and the scent of old books is evident. A specific title catches your eye, The Apology by Plato. 

A small giggle leaves your lips as you pick it up and begin flipping through the pages. Though your conversations about each other’s interests were short lived last night, you could tell that Namjoon was the type to have this book in his posession. 

“Something funny about my books, Princess?” 

You glance at him briefly, taking in his shirtless appearance. He wears black boxers and nothing else, and looks just as delicious as last night. Even experiencing how much he satisfied you last night, you feel you could jump on him once again. 

You smile softly, “I just knew you’d have a book like this.” 

Namjoon wraps his arms around your body, pressing his chest to your front and slipping the book from out of your hands. Carefully, he places it back on the book shelf and presses a small kiss to your exposed shoulder, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Your hands move up to his arms, patting softly while you think of how to word your response. For a moment you forget that you had only met this man last night. Instead, your mind is filled with a familiar feeling of comfort. Your stomach swarms with butterflies at the way he holds you, an intensity you don’t think you’ve ever felt in previous relationships. You forget about his question, leaning back into his touch and resting your head delicately on his shoulder. 

Namjoon takes the opportunity to slip his fingers to your jaw, turning your head and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“You looked so good beneath me last night,” he breathes against your lips, “I love making you feel good.” 

A soft swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip instantly has you reeling in his touch yet again. You turn to face him better, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer to you. 

There’s a searing white hot burn coursing through your lower abdomen, it feels irresistible and follows where ever Namjoon’s fingers lead. He snakes his way beneath his shirt and tuts his tongue, “You got dressed far too early, my darling.” 

“Undress me, then.” 

A giggle leaves your lips as Namjoon swiftly lifts the shirt off of your body. You take note of the way his abs flex the moment he gets a look at your body, his eyes consuming you hungrily. It seems he didn’t get enough of you, either. 

“Lay down on the bed for me,” Namjoon gestures to the messy bed, tugging the blankets away, “spread your legs.” 

The heat intensifies, excitement dripping between your legs. Your mind races with possibilities of where this may go. If it’s anything like last night, you know it’s going to be good. 

Obeying him, you lay on the bed with your head propped up by two pillows. He folds his arms and glances at you expectantly. Slowly and carefully, you bend your knees and slide your legs apart. Namjoon’s eyes fall to your pussy and drink in the look of it glistening beneath the morning sun. 

“Touch yourself.” 

You tilt your head, “What?” 

“Touch yourself. Tell me how it feels, make yourself feel good.” Namjoon explains, pulling the chair from his desk out and sitting on his backwards right in front of your spread legs. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you cough away your embarrassment. He wants you to touch yourself in front of him? He’s just going to...watch? 

“Go on now, don’t be shy,” he encourages, “you weren’t shy touching me so you can’t be shy touching yourself.” 

There’s a certain amount of hesitation in your movements. It’s not like you haven’t done this before. You almost routinely slip your hands beneath the waistband of your panties and play whether it be to fall asleep or to relieve stress, yet it seems much more intimate when you have someone watching you. Yes, it’s someone who has seen you before-- touched you--yet it’s different and you can’t quite put your finger on why. 

Slowly, your hand dips between your legs. 

Namjoon’s eyes darken at your movements, a gasp leaving your lips while you collect your own wetness and swivel your fingers around your clit. Namjoon smirks, his attention trained in on your body. 

You continue your movements, slowly dipping your fingers low and ghosting your hole. He gnaws on his bottom lip, “Start with two fingers.” 

“Yes sir.” Your breathing quickens as you slip your middle and ring finger into your cunt. The top wall of your opening twitches at the contact and Namjoon sees the way your body jolts. 

“Faster.” his breath is shaky now, and your eyes stay trained on his face while you do as he says. The amount of pleasure coursing through your body far exceeds last night just by the way Namjoon’s voice sounds commanding you.

“Tell me how it feels.” 

A moan leaves your throat and finally you toss your head back, losing yourself completely in the pleasure. Your movements continue to quicken as your orgasm approaches. Just as you feel the knot begin to tighten and the heat begin to spread, you feel the bed move. 

Your fingers are carefully pulled out and your head leans forward. Namjoon meets your eyes, and he slips your fingers into his mouth and sucks you clean. 

He groans, “Mm, just as delectable as last night.” 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he dips his head below and wraps his lips around your clit. 

The bands of your orgasm releases immediately, your back arching off of the bed and a loud yell of Namjoon’s name falling from your lips. He consumes you wholeheartedly, pinning your hips to the bed until he drinks in every last drop of your release. 

As he pulls back and the stars leave your vision, you watch as he wipes his mouth clean. 

“I was going to have you make yourself cum,” he chuckles as he speaks, “but I couldn’t let myself have you cum without me being the one doing it.” 

“Fuck, you’re incredible.” you giggle as you try to catch your breath. 

Namjoon crawls his way up to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. “So I’ve heard,” he hums proudly, pulling the two of you off the bed, “let’s go get breakfast.” 

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “what about you?” 

“Oh,” the apples of his cheeks turn red and his eyes disappear behind a shy smile, “that won’t be necessary.” 

He gestures to his boxers, a prominent wet spot on the front. You bite your lip, “When did that happen?” 

“About the same time it happened for you,” he slips the boxers off of his body and you swallow at the sight of his cock, even soft it’s magnificent, “you were so lost in playing with yourself you didn’t see me doing the same.” 

The mutual intimacy had been lost on you because it was true, you couldn’t take your eyes away from his. All you could focus on was the way he was watching you. 

“Which was,” he continues, slipping sweats over fresh boxers, “the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” 

Again you’re reminded of how much he praised you last night, how much he told you he loved your body and inadvertently wiped away every single insecurity you’ve had. 

Slipping back on the shirt, Namjoon tosses you a different pair of sweats. 

“They’ll be a little big but I’m sure you can tie the strings tight enough.” He explains, running a comb through his hair. You nod, dressing yourself and carrying yourself out of his room with him. 

He leads you to the kitchen where two bowls are already set up and ready for cereal. Pouring you a bowl, he hands you milk and you sit in a comfortable silence while you eat. 

Every once in a while, his foot would brush against yours and that same smile from earlier takes over his features. 

Despite knowing him for less than 24 hours, you feel comfortable with Namjoon. He’s made you feel welcomed, like you were meant to be in his arms. Something about the way he spoke to you made you want to curl up beside him forever, and it’s taking everything in your power not to make things move too fast. You’re unsure if he even wants a relationship with you, or even a single date, so you try to quiet your mind to the best of your abilities. 

After you finish up and Namjoon cleans your dishes, you stand in the door way, fiddling with your fingers nervously. 

Namjoon glances at you, “Yes, darling?” 

“So I was wondering if- uhm, you’d like to go out sometime? Like, on a real date?” your words are shaky and Namjoon smiles at you fondly. 

“Of course I would,” he drys his hands and walks to you, “how about dinner and a movie Saturday night?” His fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. 

“That sounds amazing.” you smile up at him. 

His grin is wide, pearly white teeth shining, “Great, it’s a date then.” 

[redrobin-detective]

Just one single glimpse of relief

TW: OC death, death themes

“Hey,” Sydnee looked up at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, safe, and it stopped her tears for a moment. She can’t remember where she was or what she’d been doing. All she knew was that she was scared and upset and didn’t know what to do. It felt like she’d been crying forever when the voice appeared. “Hey there, it’s Phantom. Can I come closer?”

Sydnee gasped as the town hero, Phantom, approached her slowly. Syd was a bit of a nerd and she couldn’t get enough of those superhero movies. She always tuned in to Phantom’s fights on TV; he was as close as she’d get to a real life Superman or Captain Marvel. She’d never seen him up close before though. He was younger than he appeared on TV, not more than his early teens. Sydnee, almost 24, was hit by a wave of mortification over how they’d described the hunky, we-thought-he-was-older kid on Margarita Night. This day just got better and better, not that she remembered it.

“How are you doing?” Phantom asked quietly, floating near her but not getting too close. He was watching her warily but not unkindly. She saw how some folks treated him, he was probably worried she’d throw a shoe at him. “What’s your name?”

“Sydnee, with an extra e not a y. Uh Tanner, Sydnee Tanner,” she mumbled. Ugh why were words so hard. Her head felt fuzzy and very far away, she thinks she was going to start panicking again. What was she even so upset about? “I don’t know what’s going on. Where are we and what happened. I don’t- I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, floating a little closer. The soft glow he emitted brightened up the dark place they were in. Was she in a collapsed tunnel? What had she been doing here? She’d never been claustrophobic but the debris and rubble of the place seemed to close in on her. “Hey, hey, just look at me.” She turned and met his kind eyes, soft and easy. “We’ll walk through it together. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was late to work,” Syd said, the memory popping up before her. “I um work at the Donut Delights bakery in that strip mall next to the middle school. My cats had knocked over some of my houseplants in the night so I had to clean them up and was running behind. I open the store on Wednesdays - oh it’s Wednesday! - so I knew I’d be in trouble. But I made it, just barely. I was starting up the ovens when.” Syd furrowed her brow and took in the hero before her. The one who was almost never seen outside a fight. “There was a ghost attack, wasn’t there?”

“Welcome to Amity Park,” Phantom said grimly. “I’ve been here a couple times; the jalapeno bacon topped donuts are my favorite. My mom and sister buy them sometimes if they want to bribe me into doing something.”

“You weirdo, only crazy people eat that weird flavor,” Sydnee chuckled. “You have a family?”

“Of course, we all have a family out there somewhere. What about you?” He asked gently. There was something about the soft way he was talking to her, the way his eyes flickered around the dark like he was looking for something. He had news he didn’t want to tell her and she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet. Just a few more minutes of denial before she faced the revelation she couldn’t bear to touch yet.

“Yeah, mom and dad and two younger sibs. Folks divorced forever ago, I barely remember them actually being together. Mom is is living it up in Dubai working as a pastry chef in one of their fancy hotels. Dad’s an auto-mechanic down on Maple street, Duke’s Car Services. Pretty sure you got tossed through the window a year ago.”

“I’ve been tossed through many windows but I know the place you’re talking about. So a big family, any friends? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?”

“I have a boyfriend,” she continued on hastily, taking the distraction for what it was. “I like him, a lot and we’ve been dating since high school. Everyone says I should marry him and we’ve talked about it, casually, but I’ve never dated anyone else and wonder if I should see other people first. You know, test the waters before I settle down with my high school sweetheart like my folks did and look how they turned out.”

“Mhmm,” Phantom hummed nodding, encouraging her to continue.

“DeShawn is great though, he’s very supportive and sweet in his own kind of absentminded way. He’s got epilepsy real bad though, I have to drive him everywhere since he’s always at risk of a seizure. Annoying sometimes but its nice, you can learn a lot about a person from a conversation while you’re alone together.”

“Very true, I’m learning a lot now,” Phantom smiled. “What about your siblings?”

“I have a brother and a sister, Kennedy is finishing his sophomore year of college and Janelle will be a senior in high school. She was a surprise baby, one last attempt of my parents to reconcile before the big D. It didn’t help but I got a great sister out of it, she’s a real firecracker.”

“Janelle,” Phantom’s eyes lit up. “She’s the one always dying her hair. I see her in the hallways of Casper, she’s hard to miss. I think she draws too, she won an art award I think.”

“Yeah!” Sydnee said enthusiastically, she reached out and grabbed ahold of Phantom’s arm. It was cold but solid. It reminded her that she really couldn’t feel anything, nothing but him. “Yeah, I swear her hair is a new color every time I see her. It’s a dark purple now, it looks pretty good on her. She was a peachy orange for picture day last year. Mom called her up screaming when she saw the photos.”

“I thought it looked cool,” Phantom grinned, “not that I was there for picture day. Ghost attack, you know. My mom was upset with me too.” They laughed lightly for a minute before it gently petered off leaving them alone in the dark. Sydnee didn’t have any feeling in her toes, in any part of her. She felt light and disconnected and all over out of sorts. She was pretty sure she knew what had happened but she couldn’t face it yet. But talking to Phantom, it seemed a little easier.

“I remember the attack now,” Sydnee stated quietly. “It was a big ghost bear only it was the size of a pickup truck. It rammed into the store there was chaos and screaming. It was so loud, the screaming of the customers, the bear, building coming down on top of us...” her lips wobbled. “We’re still in the store, aren’t we? I haven’t wanted to turn around because... because I know my body is buried underneath the concrete back there.”

“Yeah,” Phantom breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get here in time. Most everyone in the area got out but you and a few others in the store got trapped under the rubble. Mrs. McDaniels who lived on Eustis street and was the first woman in her family to go to college plus Eddie Drake who came down from Chicago to check out the ghost stuff with their boyfriend and was a tattoo artist.”

“Did you talk to them too?” She questioned in surprise.

“Briefly, Mrs. McDaniels didn’t stay long, just long enough to tell me, and I quote, “stop wasting time on her dead ass and get to the others.” She already passed on. Eddie, they didn’t take it well. We talked for a while and I think they need a little more time to accept it, see their loved ones first. I warned them that the longer they delay death, the harder it is and the more you lose yourself. You’re the last, all the way in the back of the store. When you’re ready, I’m going to bring your body out.”

“Thank you,” she whispered before breaking out into hysterical laughter. “God I bet I’m a wreck, I think I put my shirt on inside out I was in such a rush this morning,” she sniffled. “What do I do now, as a ghost? I don’t have to, like, attack people, do I?”

“No,” Phantom sighed. “Most ghosts are just normal people, no one else but other ghosts will see you and you’re not going to be strong enough to interact with the real world for a long, long time. You can stick around a bit if you want, watch over your family but it’s like I told Eddie, you forget things pretty quick. Or you can move on, that part I can’t help you with but I’ve helped a lot of others go that route and I’m told it’s easy.”

“Easy, then why haven’t you?” She questioned angrily, the full weight of the situation crashing over her. She shoved him and he floated back passively. “I’m a freaking ghost and you’re here talking to me like you’re my therapist or something. Who’s gonna take DeShawn to his appointments? Or praise my sister’s creative messes? Or badger Ken into picking major? My life is over and you think you can float there and lecture me about it being easy to move on!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Phantom soothed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry Sydnee, I wish I could turn back the clock an hour, two hours, and prevent this from happening but I can’t. I’ve tried to mess with time and it doesn’t end well for anyone. I just want, I just want what’s best for you now. You can stay or you can go but I want you to make the decision that you feel most comfortable with. That’s all I can do for you.”

“I think I’d be sad,” she said, crying again, “being able to see everyone but not talk to them, to watch them cry over me. I don’t want to forget them either.” Phantom watched her, easily and earnestly. “What made you choose to stay? Why didn’t you go?”

“I’m a little complicated but I can tell you, when I’ve done all I need to here, I’m not hanging around a second longer than I have to. Being a ghost has it’s perks but it’s also, it’s being stuck in a place you longer fit, watching the world go on without you.”

“Okay,” Syd hiccupped. “Okay, yeah okay.”

“Okay,” Phantom nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, please don’t,” she grabbed his hands again. “Please I don’t, I know I died alone but I don’t want to do... this alone. Please stay, ugh, calling you Phantom is weird sorry.”

“I don’t know if it’s any less weird but you can call me Danny,” Phantom, Danny, laughed. It was an ordinary name for a superhero but it fit. There was a special thrill in knowing the ghost boy’s name but it’s not like she was going to be around to tell anyone. It was scary, to think of not existing but also sort of comforting, like a long nap with nothing pressing to get up for.

“Can you tell them that I love them, in my place? I know it’s a lot and I’m sure you’re super busy saving the town and everything-”

"It’s not a problem. I’m sure they know but I’ll be happy to pass on the message,” he smiled and it made him look so young. For a second she was struck by how sad it was that she was relying on a kid a decade younger than her for support. But he was here and he was kind and he was what she needed right now. Maybe one day, he’d have his own person talking him through this last step. 

“Okay, Danny, thanks really. For talking, for staying. I’m scared but I, I think I’m ready.” She closed her eyes and squeezed his hands tightly. “Do you, will it hurt?”

“No,” he said, his voice warm despite his inherent chill. “No, Sydnee. No, the hurting is all over now. All you have left ahead of you is peace. Thank you for all that did, you’ll be missed.”

“I’ll see you on the other side. Goodbye.” The world faded to a pinprick, consumed by light. The last thing she saw before she went into it was a stranger’s smile. 

XxX

“Here’s the last,” Phantom said solemnly, delicately setting a broken body he’d carried out of the dilapidated building and on the sidewalk next to the others. “This is Sydnee Tanner, she was the only employee in the store at the time. She has cats at home who will need taking care of. Her dad works at Duke’s Car Services along with siblings and a boyfriend.”

“Don’t know how you know all that but thanks for getting these folks out,” Sheriff Newton sighed. “Damn shame. Keep up the good work kid, we’ll save the next ones for sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather unhappy news to break to several people.”

“Do you mind if I tag along? I have a few messages I need to pass on.”

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

[blush-and-books]

i am always yours

canonverse juke one-shot, light angst with a happy ending :) as a part of the effort to get juke back on the tumblr fandometrics ship list! title from the end of all things by p!atd. again, fuck brendon urie, but i’ve had this hc about luke for awhile (you’ll see what i mean) and had to get this out! <3 enjoy!

When Julie told Luke about Panic! At The Disco, she didn’t just give him a list of songs to check out. She advised to listen through entire albums. 

“You have a lot to catch up on,” she said, grinning over a mug of steaming tea. Her smile could convince him to do anything. “And these guys were a phenomenon. Despite… A lot that has happened with their lead singer, you’ll appreciate the music. Just give it a try when you feel like it.”

Julie never rushed him on anything. It was one of the things he loved most about her -- she only really insisted he know how to use her phone and the internet and maybe know some memes, but the rest was up to him. She loved him -- he hoped -- even if he wanted to stay in 1995. 

However, whenever she told Luke to do something, like “look into it if you’re interested” or “check it out if you’re ever bored,” he would jump on it in an instant. 

He wondered if she ever noticed. Acts of service was one of those love language things that Flynn was always talking about, right? Does making the effort to show an interest in the other person’s life by listening to every album by a band they like count?

He would ask Reggie or Alex, but Reggie doesn’t have much experience in the love department and Alex and Willie are much better at communicating than he is with Julie. 

To be clear: Luke doesn’t have experience either. In fact, Reggie probably has more romantic experience between the two of them. 

But none of it was as serious. This weird thing he has with Julie; this undefined, label-lacking supernova of passion and emotion that he has curled up in his chest is so strong sometimes it hurts. When Julie was upset at him and ignored him, it felt like the time his mom took his guitar and locked it away for a week. 

But when Julie is around, and she’s smiling at him, he could swear that not even a roaring audience could spark the kind of nirvana he feels. 

So, the day after she gives him the name of every Panic! album to date, she goes to school for six hours and he sneaks her laptop down to the garage and starts his deep dive. 

(Yes, Julie gave him computer privileges. He knows boundaries. She’s just broadened hers.)

Blissfully and with few interruptions from his other bandmates, he goes through the first albums quickly. He skips most of Pretty Odd -- Julie should have warned him about that one -- and is enjoying himself until he gets to the later projects which are significantly less his sound. 

But he keeps going. He reaches their album from 2013, which has this neon-angsty-alt-pop vibe that he honestly has a neutral opinion on. The songs are all good until he realizes that half of them have a painfully romantic overtone that ropes his mind back to Julie every time he tries to stray. 

Fuck, one of the songs is literally titled Girl That You Love. How is he not supposed to have a montage of Julie in his head?

And then some shit called Far Too Young To Die comes on, and yes, he agrees, he was far too young to die. He also vows to never listen to it again in the next 24 hours because he is ultimately tempted to loop it until Julie comes back and kiss her breathless the second that she walks through the door. 

Moving on, Collar Full doesn’t make things much better. He is sick and tired of waiting and dancing around his feelings for her, and every time they are together he is filled to the brim with lyrics and love from just minutes in her presence. 

(“If you’re gonna be the death of me, that’s how I want to go” definitely shatters him. But only briefly. He wants to soak up every ounce of love he can get from her before the world catches up to them and he’s crossing over without his consent.)

Luke thinks that he’s out of the woods when he hits the album-ending ballad, The End of All Things. 

And then he sees that he’s still in the thick of it. 

The way it hits him is nearly indescribable -- but every line hits like a read-aloud of his diary. 

No matter where he is, or where he ends up, his soul will always belong to Julie Molina. And that’s the truth of it. He can cross over or the band could break up and he could wander the planet as a lost ghost for the rest of eternity, but his soul will linger; tied with Julie’s in an unsolvable knot. 

He is hers. 

He is hers, he is hers, he is hers. 

And he’s in love with her. 

He can’t ask her to love him back. But he can hope, right? For just a single moment where they can lay together and be Julie and Luke like they should have been.

The tears on his cheeks and under his eyes don’t register until they are streaming down his neck and onto the pillow that he’s laying on. 

He doesn’t deserve Julie, he knows that. And he knows how fucking selfish it would be to even try. But sometimes the wanting reaches inside of him and individually snaps each and every one of his ribs, and that feeling keeps him pushing and pulling like the tide. Get close to her, make her smile, make her laugh. 

Leave her alone. Stop flirting. Don’t you dare hurt her. 

Think about somebody other than yourself. 

This song, he ends up looping. Over and over and over until his emotions are exhausted and he doesn’t have any tears left to cry. He’s on his… Probably his ninth listen when the doors crack open, and the piano music is leaking out of the garage as Julie slips in. 

“Luke! Hey, uh… Oh! You’re listening to Panic!”

He guiltily allows his heart to skip at the pleasant surprise in her smile. Clearing his throat, he swipes his hands viciously across his cheeks to rid of the tear stains and shoots her one of his classic smiles. “‘Course, Boss. You told me to.”

Her backpack hits the coffee table as she slowly approaches the couch to settle next to him. “Yeah, well… I didn’t actually expect you to. People normally just say ‘yeah, I’ll check it out!’ and then no one talks about it again.”

Something rubs him the wrong way about her not thinking that he would actually follow through with her recommendation. Does she doubt him? How does she not know that she could say jump and he would ask how high?

“Well, I’m not normal people. I care about what you care about.”

He knows he got her when she averts her eyes to Alex’s drums across the room; giving Luke a perfect view of her blush. Maybe he lets himself revel in it for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Anyways, how was school? Did you have a good day?”

“It was fine,” she shakes off her previous flusteredness, tucking her leg under her body so that she can turn to fully face him. “But there's nothing to tell. I would much rather hear about what you thought of Panic! And you have to tell me why you were wiping tears off of your face when I came in.”

Luke mirrors her position and gives her a joyful grin, trying to ignore the fact that she clearly noticed him trying to clean his face and wants to talk about it. The two of them have been so good at communication, and if it were about anything else, he would tell her. 

But he was nearly sobbing because of how much he loved her and couldn’t have her, so… 

“They were pretty cool, I’ll give it to you. I liked the album… Vices and Virtues?” Julie nods her head. “Yeah, that one. I was finishing the Vegas one when you got home.”

“Did you like it? The album you just finished. It sounded like End of All Things when I came in.”

With wide eyes and an exaggerated nod, Luke is praying internally that she will move on and go on a tangent about her favorite albums and songs because he just wants to listen to her talk and quietly love her instead of dodge questions about his emotions. 

“Okay, and did you like it? Is that-” She chuckles. “Is that what got you emotional? I mean, I get it, that song hits different sometimes, but-”

Luke stays quiet. If he keeps his mouth shut, and just smiles and stares and nods, it won’t slip. 

“... Luke? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“... So? Are you… Are you okay? Did it remind you of your mom?”

It reminded me of you, he instantly corrects her with the little voice in his head. 

But the voice sounds louder than usual, and then Julie’s eyes widen, and Luke couldn’t even smile and nod well enough to cover this up. Since when is he so bad at bottling up his emotions?

Right. Since he couldn’t write songs about his feelings. Because if he did, Julie would see them, so every word of affection toward her was shoved into an overflowing filing cabinet in his brain that was probably waiting to explode at any moment. 

“It- Really?”

Mental checklist: She isn’t running away. She isn’t crying. She isn’t running away while she’s crying. 

She isn’t slapping him, or screaming at him, or expressing any negative emotions. 

Maybe he can push another inch… Just for some relief.

“Y- Yeah.” The single word takes considerable effort to stutter out, but he says it. 

Julie formulates her next move. “And… Like, what about it? What reminded you of me?”

Is Luke imagining things, or did she just shift closer to him? Oh, God. The selfishness has already done it’s damage. He’s initiating something that he definitely shouldn’t for both of their sake, but-

God, why does she look so pretty?

“Y’know,” he scratches the back of his neck, “the… The lyrics.” 

“The lyrics?” “Yeah.”

“Which ones?”

She’s leaning in. Her fingers are trailing up the side of his leg, and he wants to poof himself out of this conversation but what would hiding do? Just create a bigger gap between them?

His mom always told him he was selfish. He really, really doesn’t want to be selfish to Julie. He wants to protect her. He wants to put her health and happiness and life before his. Hurting her will never give him peace. 

Is he being selfish either way? Telling her his feelings to make himself feel better, and avoiding his feelings because he thinks it will be better without talking to her about it -- neither are ideal, are they?

His hand, which was previously resting in his lap, inches down to brush against hers. “The first verse…” Their index fingers wrap around each other. “And the chorus, and the second verse…”

Both of their hands tangle until Luke doesn’t even remember what his hand looked like before, because all he sees is a bronze-ivory marble of skin and he knows he doesn’t ever want to see his hand without hers again. 

“Luke…”

“Yeah, Boss?” “Why were you upset?”

She really won’t let it go. She clearly knows him too well, because he would hope any other person would be distracted by the fact that they were about to kiss, but this is Julie. They’re friends first. Family first. 

He owes her honesty, doesn’t he?

“Because the song was right,” he answers, staring deadlocked at their joined hands. “No matter where I am, or how much time goes by… It’s gonna be you. On my mind. My feelings will never change.”

He can’t tell, but Julie’s heart ignites in her chest. 

“Feelings? What-”

Somehow, the words still don’t want to come out. The eight letters are resisting every opportunity she has offered him, so he resorts to actions and cuts her off by raising their joined hands to kiss the back of her hand. 

His lips linger before their union drops back into the space between them.

“... Oh.”

“Yeah.”

In a moment of courage, Luke peeks up at her, just to see how she looks. If he can read everything she’s feeling in a millisecond of a glance. 

There are tears in her eyes. 

“Whoa, Jules, why are you crying?” “Why were you crying?”

“Because I’m afraid of doing this!” Her hand tightens around him at his volume. “Julie, I- I don’t want to do anything selfish. I can’t have you thinking I’m selfish. I’m afraid of-” He has to take a deep, shaky breath. “When we hold hands or when you smile at me and I just feel so much and then I tell myself that I can’t, because you have so much ahead of you, and I don’t even know what’s in my future.”

The tears well in her eyes. “What would you be doing that’s selfish, Luke? You have a second chance at life. You should fucking live it. You have a future, and it has the boys, and the band, and me. I’m in your future.” 

There’s a beat, because he’s looking at her, and he wants to cry but he wants to say it so badly. 

He still doesn’t know how much time he has in the future, but Julie is telling him that she’ll be there. And he needed that more than anyone would understand. 

“Well, aren’t I?”

Julie’s question shocks him a little because he hadn’t realized that he had been quiet for so long. Her bottom lip trembles the smallest amount when she sucks in a deep breath, and it sets him off to do what he had once deemed to be the most selfish act of all. 

His free hand tucks itself in the hair on the base of her neck and tugs her towards him before he covers her mouth with his in a kiss that he has furiously dreamed of for a long time. For such a sweet moment, there is an overload of passion behind it. All of his fantasies were rushed and adrenaline-fueled after shows before he would talk himself down; and now, that is translating to this kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps as he pulls away. “That’s the selfish thing I was worried about. Fuck, I-”

Her hand wrestles free from his, and suddenly, two hands are on his cheeks like the night after the Orpheum and the love of his life is pulling herself into his lap. On autopilot, he untucks his leg from underneath him and shifts to sit normally on the couch while Julie’s legs hold her up on each side of his hips. 

And she’s kissing him again, touching him again, before he can let the panic set in. She moves her lips against his like she has her own overflowing filing cabinet of feelings and fantasies and lyrics just for him.

Her hands wondrously drain every jolt of worry and anguish from his nervous system as they run from his face to his arms to his chest and back again. Kissing Julie Molina is a thousand little feelings and it’s own feeling  in itself.

When you get cold water from a water fountain and it’s so refreshing that you insatiably want more. When the set ends and Luke is taking his bows and watching people scream and clap for their performance, knowing once again he’s succeeding in the one thing he’s ever wanted to do. 

Only now, making music is now tied with making Julie happy on that list of priorities. 

Holding her under his hands is stupidly one of his favorite things, and in this context, it is leaving him clawing for more. He applies more pressure against her back to try and press her closer, but it never feels like enough. 

Julie is an endless fountain of fervor, and he can only drink up everything he can get. 

She’s the one who pulls away this time; but she keeps her fingers knotted in his hair because she plans to not stray far. 

“You’re not selfish,” she sighs, chest heaving with deep breaths. “If you think that’s selfish, then I’m selfish. And we can do this together. We deserve it.”

Hearing the words tumble from her lips cancels out every fight he’s ever had with his mother. 

She’s right -- they do deserve it. She shut the world out for a year, he was locked away from the world for 25, and by some miraculous turn of fate, they were brought to each other. 

“We deserve it,” he repeats, a little distracted by her blown pupils and delirious smile. “We deserve it.”

They lean in at the same time to fall back into one another like it’s a new routine they’ve set. Luke doesn’t say the words, not yet, at least-

Because like she said, they deserve this. Julie Molina is on his lap, in his arms, playing him with her soft hands like his skin is the ivory keys she’s been playing since childhood. He loves her, and he’s pretty sure that she loves him -- so maybe, even though the future is uncertain, he can just wait a little longer to tell her. There’s simultaneously less of a delay and less of a rush. 

Later, when they’re in her room and staying up way too late for a school night in deep discussion, he mumbles it against her forehead while she has her head tucked into his shoulder and their shared earbuds are playing The End of All Things. 

Any concerns of selfishness fade when she wastes no time in reciprocating his declaration and punctuating her feelings with a cripplingly soft kiss above his collar bone. 

If any of this is selfish, they can be selfish together. Luke can find himself to be content in that if Julie is right there with him. 

--

tags: @lydias--stiles @bluefirewrites @willexx @moreflowersthanweeds @ruzek-halstead @xxprettylittletimebombxx  @unsaid-emily

[bugsbucky]

Cotton Clouds

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: Hiii lovely! Could I kindly request a Bucky x plus!size reader - she is really shy and insecure about her body weight and is more like the chef to the avengers (cooking breakfast and dinner for them and that kind of stuff) she is also being secretly bullied by a lower rank agent and one day the bully shoves her and she falls over, hurting herself and Bucky saw everything and just!! Protective Bucky is my life. Please don't rush! There's no pressure from me 🖤 love you!!

Warnings: Angst, body shaming, insecurities, bullying, asshole agents, protective!Bucky, protective!Steve (kinda), language, broken noses, a little pussy that probably shat his pants, fluff, happy endings.

Word Count: 3,007

Authors Notes: thank you dear anon for sending in this request. I’ve combined this request for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ 24 hour surprise drabble and Summer Loving Challenge and I chose Rooftop bar/restaurant.

If anyone ever makes you feel this shitty, you just tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. Nobody, NOBODY has the right to degrade you for your weight or anything else for that matter. If they are bullying you, it only means there is a problem with their own reflection and it’s not actually you. You’re loved and James Buchanan Barnes loves and worships you so much. 

My taglist is actually open so if you’d like to join please feel free to send me a message/ask :)

Since becoming a part of the Avenger family as their personal cook, you’ve established strong bonds with just about everyone on the team. They accepted you for who you were and never once made a disrespectful comment or snicker about your soft belly or thick thighs. Of course, it didn’t stop you from wishing you had a figure like Nat or Wanda, but the team didn’t make you feel less of a human and despite their kindness, you often still felt out of place and insecure about your weight. The one person who made you feel extra special was Bucky Barnes. During movie nights his fingers would circle your soft waist, his hugs also lasted a lot longer than what was considered necessary. Over time, the two of you became close friends. You ended up developing a small crush on him, imagining yourself waking up in his arms every morning and reminding you just how beautiful you are.

Around them, you were shy and barely spoke a word other than a good morning greeting or an ‘enjoy your meal’ as you dished out their food you had cooked. You were preparing some bacon and toast in the kitchen when James, an agent on the lower rank pranced into the kitchen, puffing his chest out and grinning at your shock of seeing him.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks and takes a step closer, forcing you to take one step back. Your eyes flicked over his shoulder and saw 3 other of his friends snickering near the doorway.

“S-sure.” your voice croaked, ignoring the splutter from the coffee pot.

“Do you sleep in a bed like a normal human being, or do you sleep on the beach like a whale? I’m not sure where whales your size sleep.” The laughter behind James formed a lump in your throat. 

“Morning folks! Uh James, you’re not supposed to be in here.” Steve walked in with his Captain America suit on and warned. His hands just above his belt as he took the burning bacon off the gas.

“Sorry Captain. Just had to ask Y/N for something.” James winked and smiled innocently at Steve. You never told anyone about the things James would say to you. They were far too embarrassing and you were secretly scared they felt the same way but just didn’t have the heart to say anything.

“No problem. Just don’t let it happen again.” Steve warned as James left, reaching up in the cupboard for a mug. He looks at you briefly, concern washes over his face as he saw you were batting tears away. “Hey are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you did he?” Steve wondered, folding his broad arms across his chest. 

“No no! I’m fine really. Breakfast won’t be too long.” you lied and busied yourself in the kitchen that Tony had put in especially for your needs. 

“Okay well look, if he or anyone is giving you any problems, you come to me alright? We don’t tolerate harassment here.” Steve gave your shoulder a squeeze, the words on the tip of your tongue that this has been going on for months. You want to tell Steve that but you’re hesitant and bite your tongue, just nodding and thanking the captain for caring so much. You quickly pull yourself back together and resume the task of breakfast.

Your hesitancy didn’t go amiss by Steve. He knew you wanted to say something but you were so shy he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want you suffering either and since the team were leaving for a one month mission, he chose to ask Bucky to stay behind to keep an eye on things. Since Bucky was sidelined from an injury to his flesh arm, he wouldn’t have gone on this mission anyway.

Once breakfast to the Avengers was served and they were happy, you quickly untied the apron from around your waist and hung it on the hook. The kitchen was cleaned and you headed back to your room for a much needed shower and break. You would normally join the team for breakfast but after the question James asked, you quickly came up with an excuse why you wouldn’t be joining them today.

Your gaze was kept to the floor as you walked and your shoulder bumped into someone else’s. Before you could apologise, an obnoxious laugh pierced your ears. 

“Watch where you’re going you glonk!” It was James and you sighed. 

“Sorry.” you muttered and steadied yourself. Pulling your baggy shirt away from your stomach.

“Wouldn’t bother doing that. Unless you can stick a bag over your head and hide your ugly mug too.” James snickered, encouraged by the roaring laughter of his friends standing behind him, throwing the occasion comment in your face too. 

“I said I was sorry!” hot tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving behind a wet streak in the process. “I’m sorry for everything!” you crumbled under the pressure. Apologising to this asshole for what exactly? For being softer than the other girls who worked in the compound? For being too shy to stand up for yourself? For not being good enough? In truth, you didn’t know why you were apologising. You were doing nothing wrong.

“Apologising won’t mean shit to me!” James taunted walking behind you and giving you a hard shove. You fall forwards, your knees hitting the hard marble floors first. Your hands stop your face from smashing against the floor. 

“HEY!” a loud voice and footsteps echo through the hallway. The friends of James all scattered and ran down the hall as Bucky stalked towards you. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you recognised Bucky’s voice, of course you did. It was your favourite voice in the compound because it belonged to your crush. Bucky was a sweetheart, always making sure you felt better about yourself. He was quiet just like you, but the confidence he would give you made you feel so much better about yourself. Of course, it didn’t work so well since James started bullying you.

You peeked up. Bucky’s nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched and his eyes insanely wide, anger swirling around behind his irises. His metal arm whirring down by his side as he clenched and unclenched his fist. He saw what this jerk had done to you and no woman should be treated like that.

James remained silent, looking like a deer in headlights. Bucky wasn’t impressed by his lack of answers and with his metal arm, shoved James against the wall and his hand wrapped around his throat squeezing his windpipe slightly. 

“You gonna talk now huh? Where have your fucking balls gone?” Bucky spat in his face, his flesh arm in a sling pressed against his chest.

“I- I am sorry!” James was gasping for air and Bucky eased off his throat just a little. 

“How long has this been going on?” Bucky wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

As their confrontation was just getting started, you pushed yourself up off the floor ignoring the aching in your knees as you stood next to Bucky. Your hand on his metal arm to try and diffuse the situation. It was no use, Bucky hated bullies and he wasn’t going to let go of this guy’s throat until he had the answers he was asking.

“HOW LONG?!?!” Bucky roared, saliva spraying James’ face. You have never seen Bucky like this, so enraged and protective. It was almost like something or someone had woken The Winter Soldier up inside of him. 

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked your soft belly,  thick thighs and rosy red cheeks. Your disheveled hair in the mornings and your cooking was absolutely amazing. To him, you were the perfect wife. Without you even knowing, Bucky would often daydream about the two of you living in the country with your children and you baking some homemade pies. The two of you were like the perfect balance in his eyes, you were soft and fluffy and a sweetheart and he was damn sure no man or woman was going to ever hurt you.

“Months.” James gasped out. This angered Bucky more as he growled in his face. 

“Bucky.” your voice was quiet as you pleaded with him, his eyes momentarily flicking down to yours with your soft eyes staring back at him that he loved so much. Bucky released his grip from his throat, but not before punching him square in the nose. The audible crack made you cringe and you brought your hands up to cover your mouth as blood dripped from the obvious broken nose.

“Let me tell you something you little shit. If you EVER approach Y/N again, if you EVER breathe in her direction or lay one dirty finger on her again and I promise you, not only will I break every finger on your hand and your legs but I’ll make sure you’re kicked off the team. Do you understand me you fucking asshole? You touch or speak to her ONE MORE TIME and don’t you dare test my patience.”

“Y-es Sergeant Barnes.” James was full on crying, either from the pain of his nose or the threats Bucky was spewing in his face or the combination of the two, you weren’t sure but as soon as Bucky stepped back and pulled your body close to his, James took off staggering up the hall, occasionally glancing back to make sure the winter soldier wasn’t following him, leaving droplets of blood as a trail.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Bucky’s softer voice took you by surprise. His metal appendages stroked your warm cheeks and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You shook her head and Bucky’s eyes narrowed. Your knees were badly bruised and he clicked his tongue. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and he walked you back to your room in silence. The anger was still radiating off him, just his very heavy breathing filling the silence. His disbelief that any human could hurt you the way James did. If you were not there, he most likely would have ripped him a new asshole. But since you weren’t a fighter, he didn’t want you scared or panicked.

When you eventually got back to your room, Bucky marveled at how beautiful, neat and tidy the space was. Books scattered over a couple of shelves and your computer neatly placed in the middle of a white desk with your pink and white office chair. You reminded him of a fluffy pink cloud with some chunks of marshmallows. 

He loved the aesthetic comfort it provided.

“Wow this is so beautiful.” He complimented as you sat on the end of your bed. You smiled back sheepishly, feeling the warmth of the blush creep back up your neck and cheeks. 

“Thank you.” you sighed. Bucky’s eyes were soft and so blue. You could stare into them for hours.

“You’re welcome doll. He won’t bother you again and if he does, you tell me immediately. I won’t be so kind next time.” 

“I know. I’m just… ashamed.” you dipped your head and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

“Doll, let me tell you something.” Bucky sighed as he took a seat next to you, throwing his arm back over your shoulder. Nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest, breathing in his fresh sandalwood scent. “As a man who grew up in the really old days and a man who was given the best eyesight. I can honestly say, with my hand on my heart that you are really gorgeous, beautiful and so special. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, the fault is with him, not you. Maybe he’s jealous because he doesn’t have killer thighs or something.” you chuckled into his chest, his heart pounding against your ear. 

“You think I’m special?” your question was muffled but he heard you clearly. Your eyes glancing down at his thick thighs.

“Of course I do. You’re the first person I look for when I enter a room doll.” 

“Thank you Bucky. You’re just amazing in every way.” You pulled away with a triumph toothy grin on your face and pink tinted cheeks. 

“Don’t have to keep thankin’ me doll. Though if you really wanna say thanks, accept my invitation and come to dinner with me tonight.” he cocked an eyebrow and your anxiety washed through you. 

“Wh-where?”

“There’s this rooftop restaurant Sam recommended and I really want to go but I don’t want to go alone.” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the hairs on the back of his neck. “Please?” and out came the puppy eyes. You chuckled and nodded your head.

“Sure. Of course.” Bucky grinned and leaned in and pressed a kiss to your rounded cheek. 

“Thanks doll. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.”

A few hours later

A loud knock - metal on wood sounded at your door and you sighed, checking out your attire for this evening. After hours of wondering what to wear and taking Nat’s advice and smoothed the dress over with your hands, giving one final look in the long mirror. You slipped into your expensive heels and opened the door. You gasped, Bucky was wearing a dark navy sweater with a collar, one arm missing as he kept it under the sweater and dark clad jeans matched with his combat boots. You saw the silver chain shining around his neck and you assumed he was wearing the dog tags he recently retrieved, his hair slicked back into a low bun in the nape of his neck, a day old stubble peppered his chin and cheeks and you were tempted to run your fingertips over the prickly hairs. While you were busy ogling his attire, he was also checking you out. Your choice of dress was gorgeous and it hugged your curves just perfectly, revealing just the right amount of cleavage that Bucky knew he would have a hard time keeping his eyes off during dinner. Your makeup was nothing too crazy, opting for a natural look. 

“Wow doll, you look amazing.” Bucky gulped and shifted on the balls of his feet. 

“You absolutely do too, Buck.” you exchanged a smile and walked down the hall with him, occasionally stealing glances at one another. When the two of you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, he offered his arm and you gladly took it. 

The restaurant Bucky took you to was absolutely perfect. A single candle in the middle of the 2 seater table with a rose in a vase. Champagne in a bucket of ice. 

“People are staring.�� you stated as Bucky pulled your chair out for you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek lovingly, causing an eruption of tingles in the pit of your belly.

“Let ‘em stare. Probably just jealous because I’m with the most sexiest woman here.” he spoke nonchalantly. You giggled and hid behind your hands. The city lights illuminated both of your features as you sat and talked about everything and anything that came to mind.

Bucky told you about the new music he was listening to and how he didn’t like it. You laughed and agreed and told him to listen to some 80s with a promise you’ll personally create him a playlist. Bucky told jokes and you laughed heartily. Exchanging flirty glances and smiles every now and then. The one thing that really set your soul on fire was when you caught him glancing at your chest and licking his lips. You were grateful to Nat for the suggestion of a push up bra to push your boobs together and made a mental note to thank her later. 

“I have something for you.” Bucky said, putting down his glass of champagne and reaching into his front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small black velvet box and put it down in front of you. He laughed at the look on your face. “Don’t worry, it’s not an engagement ring.” he clarified and you blew some air out. Picking up the little black box, you gasped when you flicked the lid open. Wedged between the slit was an expensive looking silver ring with diamonds. 

“Bucky! Oh my god! What is this?” Was he sure it wasn’t an engagement ring? The two of you weren’t even dating, surely he wouldn’t.

“It’s a promise ring. I was going to give it to you on the weekend when I was hoping you’d go to dinner with me when we were alone in the compound but things changed.” his chuckle turned into a smile and you mirrored it.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous!” removing the ring from the box, you slip it onto your finger and it fits like a glove. How he guessed your size was anyone’s guess. 

“Doll. I promise you that I will be here to protect you. Nobody will ever dare speak a bad word to you again. But I also promise to take care of you and make you smile and laugh every single day. I care about you so much and I mean everything I’m saying. If you’ll have me of course.” 

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. He really did mean them. 

“My weight. It really doesn’t bother you?” you bit your lip with your eyebrows raised. 

“No it absolutely doesn’t. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to spend a long time proving it to you that I love you and your body the way it is. I’ve waited a really long time for you doll. So, will you be mine?” 

“Always.” Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

“My doll.”

“My Bucky.” 

“Forever your Bucky, doll. Let’s order dessert then we can go home and have some real dessert.” he winked and you chuckled, dipping your head and blushing for the hundredth time today. 

Taglist: @jobean12-blog​ @marvelgirl7​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @hawksmagnolia​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @deanthedemon​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @emilylyoness​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @littleredstarfish​ @kitkatd7

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 3

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 3/3

Read chapters one and two on Tumblr.

Chapter three summary: Sam and Bucky take a breather from Sharon’s party in High Town.

Sam walks back into the room from before. The one that could be a high-end boutique, or the lobby of a shady but untouchable law firm, or the backdrop for a photoshoot featuring an Avenger who wanted their surroundings to exude enviable elegance and expensiveness without at all detracting from their presence. Not to name names, or speak disdainfully of the dead.

Shrugging off the brown leather jacket Sharon leant him, Sam tosses it at the couch. Yeah, technically it’s on a collision course with the back of Bucky’s head, but since Bucky dodges without turning to look, he figures he can claim poor aim. Which Sam would normally never do, especially to Bucky, but he has downed a few drinks tonight. Sharon wanted them to blend in at the party; Sam couldn’t see an easier way to blend than by doing his bit to deplete the contents of the event’s bar. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there pumping his arm to the beat like that motherfucker Zemo. Sam doesn’t know exactly what to blame for the Baron’s excruciating dance moves, he’s just glad he got away. Being near enough to Zemo for people to assume they were acquainted? Come on. That’s just insult on top of injury.

Bucky’s head swivels to follow him once Sam tracks into his line of sight.

“Where’s Zemo?” is the first thing he says.

Sam avoids his gaze until he’s good and comfortable on the couch at his side. It’s closer than he meant to be, since the damn thing has a curve to it, but the chairs don’t look comfortable. Unless, he supposes, you’re a percher, like Sharon. Sam doesn’t perch.

To cover for the fact that he picked his seat without thorough reconnaissance and is, with his inhibitions a little lower than usual, both far too nervous and not nearly nervous enough, Sam spreads his knees to take up even more of the couch, draping his arms along the back. Finally, he glances at Bucky.

“Sharon’s doing her shift as babysitter,” Sam says.

“Hasn’t she done enough?”

“You wanna go back down there and spell her, be my guest.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, “I think I’m good.”

Bucky’s jacket is gone too, Sam notes, moving his own from where it landed to the chair opposite. Briefly, he lets himself be curious. Why does Sharon have a wardrobe of men’s clothes in enough sizes and styles to reasonably clad himself, Bucky, and Zemo for the evening? Are these things expensive? Are they valuable, like the Monet he saw on the way in? Maybe the clothes on his back belonged to some celebrity and are set to be sold off to the highest bidder. If that weren’t a selling point before, it could be now—everything itemized and tagged as having been worn by Sam Wilson, the Falcon, the Man Who Wouldn’t Be Captain America.

In the short silence, Sam feels himself beginning to frown, but he’s just the right side of buzzed to prevent those thoughts from dragging him down. He’s a cheerful drunk. Always has been. A hugger, a giggler, a piggyback ride-giver in his younger years.

“Do you think she’s doing alright?” Bucky asks, forever ready to be morose. “Sharon?” Sam wants to stick his finger in the indentation between Bucky’s eyebrows and wiggle it until the seriousness drops from his face. He wants to smooth his thumb over Bucky’s chin, wipe out the memory of Zemo’s touch when he offered Bucky to Selby like a thing instead of a human being. “I know she took your deal, a favour for a favour, but I’ve been trying to work out what my debt to her is. My notebook—”

“There’s no math for it, Buck,” Sam says. Though his tone is lazy, his words are certain. “Who owes what to who. We just have to make it right.” Mildly annoyed that he’s been drawn back into a heavy conversation, he sighs and slings his foot up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee. The movement bumps Bucky’s thigh momentarily. “Think I might owe Sharon a little less now that she made me wear a turtleneck to that party.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. Sam turns his head and gives him the finger, though he’s also smiling.

“I’m laughing at what you said,” Bucky claims, “not the shirt. You coulda picked something else.”

“It’s black and doesn’t have a pattern. After that Smiling Tiger getup, I felt like being inconspicuous, ok?”

“Ok. You don’t need my approval.”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” Sam agrees, still grinning.

“Suits you,” Bucky half-mumbles.

Sam huffs from his nose, all his laughter in that puff of air as he faces forward again, then tips his head back to check out Sharon’s high ceiling. With nothing but night through the tall windows and the room under-illuminated by the two lamps either left on by their host or switched on by Bucky, the ceiling’s dark grey instead of white. Shadowy. Unlike the menacing shadows that seemed to stretch after them on the streets of Low Town, sending an unpleasant tickle up the back of Sam’s neck, these are soft. It’s a surprisingly peaceful end to the day, considering what the past 24 hours have encompassed. Suddenly, Sam feels as though he’s been awake a long, long time. Doesn’t mean he’s ready to sleep yet.

“So,” he says, “downstairs. Why’d you leave? Most date-like thing we’ve done yet and I tear my eyes away from the trainwreck of Zemo’s dancing to find you gone.”

“The noise, the crowd, Zemo,” Bucky emphasizes, “like you said.”

“You brought him.”

“I know, I just…” Bucky slumps forward and hangs his head, hands clasped between his knees. He turns pained eyes on Sam and Sam moves his hand from the back of the couch to Bucky’s shoulder. From there to his upper back. From a grounding pressure to a gentle rub. Just a couple times, but he doesn’t pull away, perennially touchy when less than sober. “I don’t want him to control me.”

“He doesn’t,” Sam says firmly. “You were yourself at Selby’s.”

“His version of me. I don’t like the reminder. I don’t want to find out if I’d do it again, in that crowd of people, attack someone just because he told me to.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I’m trusting you not to.”

“Is that smart?” Bucky asks, expression raw. Sam can feel the heat of his back through his shirt.

“It’s not totally smart. Can’t be, with you involved.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and smiles and Sam wants to cheer.

“I don’t know about that date,” Bucky says lightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back into the couch once more. It was a t-shirt under that jacket of his and Sam’s gaze slides to his arms, trying to look without looking. Only because the Vibranium one isn’t on display a lot. That’s all.

“Oh, here we go.”

Sam’s amazed at how his complaint sounds in this room, in this light, on this couch. Like the ceiling, it’s soft.

“It was too loud.”

“The last thing you called a date was a fight on the top of a truck speeding down a highway. Wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“Well,” Bucky tries again, “there were too many people.”

“Again, extra people weren’t a problem last time. Half a dozen Flag-Smashers, as I recall.”

“That was fun and all—”

“Which part?” Sam asks, smiling. “The part where you got hurled into a windshield by the woman you’d assumed was a hostage? Yeah, that part was fun for me too.”

“Can it.”

Bucky accompanies the words with a look that Sam could pick out a mile away as fake-grumpy. It cracks him up and he lifts his hand from Bucky’s back to shove his arm as he laughs.

“You called tonight a date,” Bucky says suddenly.

“No, I said… I said…” Sam squints at nothing as he retrieves his words in his mind. “Date-like.”

“Zemo got in my head and I got in yours.”

Instead of saying this miserably, Bucky looks quietly smug at his joke. Sam needs to set him straight; of course he didn’t think tonight was a date. With a massive bounty on their heads at the other end of Madripoor? With Zemo the third wheel always only an arm’s length away? And the current circumstances are beside the point because, fundamentally, Sam doesn’t know whether or not Bucky’s been joking from the start. Intentionally wrong-footing him, messing with him, like they’ve been doing as long as they’ve known each other.

“You’ve definitely done something,” Sam volunteers.

It’s his fourth drink talking, or maybe the fucking pickled snake organ he forced himself to swallow earlier. His jaw clenches fleetingly at the memory. Sarah’s gonna laugh her ass off when he tells her. Should be enough to balance out whatever ire she’ll be sending his way for that dumb shit he said about laundering money. Although she’ll get that he only said it to avoid getting shot (he won’t tell her how narrow that success was), she still won’t be thrilled that he made himself out to be a criminal. It’s the furthest thing from the kind of people the Wilsons are. He could always point a finger at how Bucky behaved—dropping everyone who ran at him with icily efficient twists and kicks—but he knows how Sarah would look at him, what she’d be thinking. That he and Bucky aren’t held to the same standard, externally or internally. That he talks about Bucky too often, so often that if he let his sister in on this stupid running joke they have about their ops being dates, she’d take it all wrong, think this was something serious and inevitable.

Sam swallows and laces his fingers together in his lap so he won’t reach out for Bucky again.

“I know I should’ve let you in on the plan to spring Zemo from prison,” Bucky says. Oh, he thinks Sam’s words were a subtle criticism, not an admission. That’s… good.

“But?”

“No excuses,” Bucky promises, stretching his neck from side to side. “I shoulda told you. Once I explained it, you would’ve seen that I was right and agreed with me.”

Sam gives the side of Bucky’s head a hard stare until he catches the smirk hiking his lips up on one side.

“Wow,” Sam says dryly, “that was almost you taking responsibility.”

“I take responsibility all the time.”

“The notebook, right?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe Zemo put his fuckin’ hands on something so private, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I get that it’s private,” Sam assures him, “but you can tell me shit. If you want.”

Bucky’s folded arms loosen and he shoots Sam a sideways glance that scans all over his face, measuring, cataloguing, computing with that cyborg brain Sam teases him about. Sam blinks back. He means it, and he meant it before when he said he’s trusting Bucky.

“Feels a little one-sided,” Bucky says.

“That’s because you won’t come home with me to meet Sarah and the boys. You already got your invitation into my personal life, you just haven’t used it.”

“We’ve been a little busy, Sam.”

Sam sighs loudly and pushes his sleeves up his arms against the warmth of the room.

“You can make time. Once we’re not on Zemo’s schedule.”

“He was supposed to be on ours,” Bucky mutters. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“It happened because you’re an idiot who didn’t tell me the plan.”

“It’s my fault we keep getting shot at.”

Sam ignores that, the happy looseness surging up inside him battling the gravity of Bucky’s self-pity.

“It’s your fault if you didn’t like the date,” he counters. “You got Zemo out of Germany, Zemo brought us to Madripoor. Low Town, Selby, Sharon—all that happened as a consequence. You didn’t like tonight’s date? That’s on you.”

“Date-like,” Bucky corrects with a sly smile. “The noise and the fighting last time were fine—”

“Were they?!”

“—I just thought the next date should be different.”

Sam laughs softly because this isn’t the first time Bucky’s made this sound like more than a joke, but it is the first time he’s done this at night. And without Sam’s sister and nephews in the next room, or the potential for anybody to drive past them on a country road that runs alongside untidy fields, but when they’re truly alone.

“How so?” Sam asks, heart pumping like the bass in the basement, where the party’s carrying on without the two of them.

Bucky loosens his arms even more, until his forearms rest on his thighs, until—when he rocks to the side, repositioning to face Sam—he can rest one on the back of the couch where Sam’s used to be. His hand hangs down and his fingers skim Sam’s shoulder.

“More private,” Bucky confesses.

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted,” Sam says with an easy laugh because Bucky’s face is still a little too stern, but that could be self-consciousness. “Tell me how to get more than four stars, man.”

“And you’ll do it?”

“Depends. Try me,” he blurts.

He watches Bucky’s face pinch in then relax, going especially slack at the mouth, which gets closer when Bucky angles into his space. Sam’s fingers release and his back straightens as he shifts to square his body to Bucky’s. They’ve done something like this before, locked into stubborn, confrontational posture when Bucky makes Sam’s life difficult by refusing to go along with what he says, but not this. Not this exactly.

Sam doesn’t stiffen or jerk away, so Bucky keeps coming.

“Are you…?” Bucky asks, eyelashes fluttering as his lids raise and lower, looking from Sam’s eyes to his lips. “Is this…?”

Always talking.

Tilting his head and closing his eyes, Sam stamps his mouth to Bucky’s. He goes to break away after a few stunned seconds, but then Bucky’s hand lands on the back of his neck—warm; not the metal one—to hold them together. Sam meets Bucky’s seeking tongue with his own and feels scruff against his face as their mouths test and react to each other. Reflexively, Sam grips the front of Bucky’s tight, black t-shirt. The kiss is quick and feverish and, when Bucky’s fingers untense on his neck, Sam rests his face against Bucky’s.

He wouldn’t say he’s scared to move, but he’s wary. He can’t tell if they’ve fucked up their whole dynamic or taken it, at last, to a level it was always going to reach. Raising a hand to pat the side of his head and check that his goggles are in place, Sam stops, remembering he won’t feel the strap because he’s not in the air. It’s been a while since he felt lightheaded on the ground.

He clears his throat and draws back. Bucky starts to remove his hand from Sam’s neck, but Sam reaches up to keep it there. He juts his chin out challengingly as he holds Bucky’s eyes, thinking, for a second, of their joint session with Dr. Raynor.

“What’s the verdict?” Sam demands.

Bucky stares back solemnly.

“Four and a half.”

“I’m leaving you here in Madripoor,” Sam declares, pointing a finger down at Bucky’s abruptly and broadly grinning face as he pushes up from the couch.

He strides over to Sharon’s crystal decanters, laughing to himself and looking for water. There isn’t any, but she does have an insulated canister of dissolving ice cubes. Sam scoops a few into a tumbler and turns back to look silently at Bucky. He cups the base of the glass in his hot palm. Slowly, the ice starts to melt.

[boop-le-snoot]

skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

[juniorgman187]

In the End (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Inspired by the popular Tik Tok trend; Reid walks in on Reader taking off his/her/their promise ring after they’ve broken up. 

Couple: Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral!Reader Category: soft angst?? I don’t really know Content Warning: Mild heartbreak and angst, momentarily sad Spencer Word Count: 1.3k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

“So I see you’re still wearing the ring.” Tara gestured toward the band of gold on my finger with her coffee cup, making the contents of the container stir audibly.

Before she pointed it out, I didn’t notice I still had it on, much less that I was playing with it. 

She must’ve interpreted my fidgeting as an expression of my subconscious deliberation on whether or not it belonged there anymore, which wouldn’t have been entirely wrong. 

Did it belong anymore? 

I didn’t know.

“Wasn’t that his college class ring?” 

“Yeah, it was,” I broke into a small smile. “When he graduated, he was only sixteen, so he got the ring to fit his finger back then. Of course, he grew out of it, and eventually, he gave it to me.” I managed to recite the story with no other emotion, other than a weak laugh, which was surprising actually. 

Perhaps I wasn’t as torn as I thought I was considering I was able to recite a memory that used to bring me to happy tears with a cold indifference now. 

“Why’d he give it to you?” “I used to constantly pick at my cuticles whenever I got nervous and most times I’d do it and I wouldn’t even realize I was doing it until I picked at them for so long that my skin started to bleed. He noticed it and came into work one morning with the ring. He gave it to me only after I promised him that I’d fiddle with it instead of picking at my cuticles.”

Truth be told, it worked. 

Whenever there was turbulence on the jet, or I took too long to put pieces together, or a child was missing for more than 24 hours, I played with the ring, spinning it around my finger in slow circles. It was a better substitute than I imagined it would be. 

“It’s funny actually because when he put the ring on my finger, we both saw how perfectly it fit me. Like it was made just for me.” This was a distant memory, but I smiled just as widely as I did when it happened all those years ago. 

“That’s a really sweet story, Y/N,” She put a comfortingly hand on top of my fidgeting ones, forcing me to look at her, instead of the aforementioned jewelry. 

“You don’t have to take it off, you know? I didn’t take my wedding ring off for months after Daryl and I divorced. When I told him about it, he said that it was endearing that I kept the ring - and I think it’d be endearing if you kept Spencer’s.” 

I frowned and shrugged, still toying with the piece of jewelry. “But that’s different. That was a wedding ring. Of course, you kept it, but this?” I tugged the ring off of my finger harshly and pinched it between my thumb and index finger, holding it up to Tara’s face. “This is just a stupid promise ring.” 

I refixed my gaze from the gold band to Tara, who was looking right past me. I held my breath when her eyes glanced back at me and her eyebrows furrowed - she looked absolutely mortified. And I was about to be, too. 

I peered hastily over my shoulder, already knowing who I was going to see standing there. 

My heart broke in two when I saw him stuck in the entryway with his eyes locked on the object between my fingers. I felt even worse when I saw one of his hands clutching the strap of his crossbody satchel while the other was in his pocket. He looked exactly like how he always looked when he entered the room - casually and carelessly - but after what he just walked into, he froze in his place, bewildered by the sight.

Right away, I was stricken with guilt. I frantically tried to pick up the pieces of my destruction, hoping for a reprieve. 

“Spence, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not a stupid ring, I was just-”

“Do you not want to wear it anymore?” His voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t catch it breaking halfway through.

I turned back to Tara as if reading her face would give me the answer I desperately needed, but she was as confounded as I was. 

By the time I looked back at Reid again, he was pushing past Prentiss and rushing right back into the bullpen. 

“Hey, Spencer -” 

Reid dodged her completely and wordlessly stormed off. 

“Reid!” Prentiss leaned to the side to get a better view of him and continued to call out to him until he was out of range. “Reid!” 

She turned back to me and Tara, recognizing the same sad look in my eyes that she did in Reid’s. 

“Oh no . . . don’t tell me this is about -” 

“It’s not. Don’t worry.” I turned on my heels (A/N: This is not to be taken literally; the reader isn’t actually wearing high heels; it’s merely an idiom) and took my seat again, cowering my head to hide my distress from the team as they entered the room.

Don’t ask me why, but I thought shutting it down before anyone else came into the conference room meant that it would go away, or that no one would notice. But I quickly realized that would’ve only worked if I wasn’t in a room with people who studied human behavior and the nuances of it. 

“So what’s up with you today?” I heard Rossi ask from behind me. 

I immediately regretted making a trip to the water cooler, forgetting how it was an opportunity to catch me alone and back me into a corner from which I could not escape. 

“And don’t give me that ‘Nothing. I’m fine’ crap.” He raised his eyebrows to suggest he expected my sincerest answer. 

“Honestly?” I asked. 

He nodded. 

“I thought we could go back to work and everything would be okay, but it’s only 10 a.m, and we’re already breaking each other’s hearts all over again.” 

Rossi put a hand on my shoulder and sighed. “What you two have -” He paused. “What you two had, that isn’t gonna go away overnight. Especially if it was real. And we all know that it was. And when it comes to something as precious as true love, it needs to be handled with the utmost delicacy if you intend on preserving it. Me and Krystall - we didn’t work out back then, and I accepted that. But look at us now. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. And I think a part of the reason why is because I never stopped loving her. And imagine that - me? In love? As jaded as I am, I still loved her as deeply as I loved her back then.”

I laughed weakly and judging from Rossi’s smile after my laugh, that was his intention. 

“Now, take Spencer. Kid’s got a heart of gold. And if I can love, he can, too. And he does. He loves you, Y/N . . . you know that right?”

“Yeah.” 

“So take it from me - don’t be so eager to squander the relationship or rid yourself of any love you have for him. Hold on that love. Because if I’ve learned anything from marrying Krystall, it’s that there is such a thing as the right person but the wrong time. Okay, kiddo?” Rossi put his hand on my cheek gently and I leaned into his caress. He grinned before walking away, leaving me to my devices. 

Don’t ask me how I knew, but I looked up from my dixie cup of water and right at the glass doors. 

He paused when I caught his gaze.

I raised my hand to wave at him with a bittersweet smile. And to my surprise, he raised his hand briefly off his satchel to wave a little back. 

Maybe it’s supposed to be us in the end . . . 

But it’s not supposed to be us right now. 

And like a bad habit I couldn’t shake, my fingers returned to the ring, spinning it in slow circles.

He saw . . . and he smiled. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Episode 4 “Requirements for Lovers”

Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, huh? Ah, the endless cycle of wanting to write and yet, astoundingly, not writing. I know it well.

Good ol' writer's block has skedaddled for a time though, so let's make good use of that and dive into Episode Four: "Requirements for Lovers." 

Ohhh, YYH getting spicy with its titles 😏

Actually wait, I shouldn't be making dumb jokes just yet. First I want to acknowledge a slight change to future recaps: YYH, RWBY, and anything else I might try my hand at. Namely, a lack of pictures moving forward. A few weeks ago — months? I honestly can't keep track — tumblr implemented a new limitation where no post can have more than ten images in it. It's a move that, while I'm sure has its justifications, makes sharing analyses of visually-based media all the more difficult. I'll be doing my best moving forward to describe scenes as needed, as well as combining connected images together to stretch out my limit, but I'm not going to pretend that it'll be the same as getting the visual play-by-play we’re used to. 

Tumblr certainly is a website, huh?  

Anyway, we open on Yusuke once again lamenting the difficulty of hatching a spirit beast that doesn't immediately devour him from the head down. On the one hand this is an admittedly easy way to reset the story over the course of this arc — the storytelling equivalent of waking your character up each morning — yet I cannot deny that if I were undergoing a resurrection test, it would consume my every thought too. Can't really blame Yusuke for endlessly bringing the conflict up when the conflict is this deadly.

Well, deadly for a ghost, anyway.

Specifically, he's worried about how embarrassing it would be to get eaten by something that came out of an egg this tiny. I'm torn between reminding a fictional character that things grow — a pissed off chicken could kick my ass and it started out in an egg too — and just shaking my head over the absurdity of worrying about embarrassment when, you know, you would cease to exist. It's not even a matter of, "What if I die and then I'm embarrassed about it in the afterlife :( " Yusuke is already IN the afterlife. He's got nowhere to go but oblivion!

Luckily, Botan takes a more practical approach to these worries, pointing out that he'll be just fine provided he does some good deeds. Yusuke starts a rant about how do-gooders are only ever out for themselves.

Yusuke, you dumb-dumb, you're a do-gooder now. What was all that help for Kuwabara, hmm? As said, these early episodes exist in a semi-reset loop, where Yusuke needs to stew in his main character flaws for a while before any real growth starts to stick. Those flaws being, primarily, "I'm a pessimist" and "also I hate myself."

Case in point, Botan accuses him of always seeing the glass as half empty. Which, while true enough (outside of his confidence in fighting, anyway), by now we've got a pretty good sense of where Yusuke developed this attitude. He affirms this by talking about how Koenma's got him by the balls, "just another idiot abusing his power!" With an alcoholic mother and those teachers from last episode, it's no wonder Yusuke thinks this way. Mr. Takenaka's interest and Keiko's care aren't enough to combat the rest of Yusuke's experience, not when Takenaka is an outlier and Keiko is Yusuke's peer. Her desire to keep him on the right track reads only as an inevitability at best (the downside of having a perfect childhood friend), or a legitimate annoyance at worst. Or, as we'll continue to see in this episode, a way for them to flirt.

Is it any wonder Yusuke would sneer at Koenma's offer then, expecting the worst? The fact that Yusuke is still undergoing the challenge at all, no matter what he says, speaks volumes to me.

However, Botan is less than comfortable with his criticisms. She panics a bit at Yusuke insulting the (junior) ruler of the underworld so blithely. That, and the fact that he's carelessly tossing his egg around.

(Yes we’re using precious picture space for memes are you SURPRISED?) 

Anyway, Botan isn't just concerned for the sake of concern. She cautions Yusuke against speaking too freely because there may be investigators checking in on his progress. No sooner does he ask what those investigators look like than one appears.

Thunder! Lighting! An energy so intense that Yusuke is briefly blinded! It is, as he says, quite the entrance. What kind of being could possibly be at the heart of such an astounding show?

Why, this teeny-tiny cutie, of course.

Remember, few appearances in YYH coincide with the character's true self. Would you ever assume this is the all-powerful investigator who holds Yusuke's future in her hands? Of course not. That's the point.

The investigator introduces herself as Sayaka and immediately demonstrates that she has no more patience for Yusuke's attitude than Botan does. "These damn kids," he mutters and my brain briefly blue screens because Yusuke. You're fourteen.

Plus, Sayaka and Botan clearly have some sort of eternal youth situation going on, so there's that too.

Sayaka is, in a word, fantastic. She pulls no punches with Yusuke, teleporting away from him with what can only be described as a shit-eating smile, all while refusing to tell him what exactly she's investigating. “I’m sorry, but that’s a secret!” However, Keiko is clearly at the forefront of her interest. She refers to her as Yusuke's "girlfriend."

Botan is more than happy to point Keiko out — because of course they're still following her around! — and pulls a Et tu, Brute? on Yususke, leading Sayaka right to her. Like most of the Underworld, Sayaka is rather shocked that the pretty, popular, scholarly girl is supposedly into the delinquent. It's the power of childhood friendship, you fools! Specifically, Sayaka references the "positive markings" that Keiko has accumulated, but the audience already knows by now that such markings are suspect at best. Yusuke himself is proof of that. So if his terrible marks don't preclude him from being a young kid's savior, should we really view Keiko's as proof of superiority?

I mean, Keiko is fantastic, but that's not really the point here.

Starting her own investigation into Yusuke's life, Sayaka begins with one hell of a bombshell: "There's no point in doing [the resurrection] if the people closest to you don't care." WOW. Not only is that a harsh assessment, it's one I don't think I can personally get behind. The offer to restore Yusuke to life is built on the acknowledgment that their system is flawed (even if there's no work to change or dismantle that system): they thought he was worthless, his sacrificial death seems to have proven them wrong, and now they want further evidence, in the form of this trial, that Yusuke is a good person at heart. The whole point of this challenge is to give him a second chance, with testimonies like Mr. Takenaka's emphasizing that Yusuke has always been capable of more, so long as he applies himself. This, as we'll see throughout the series, applies to relationships too. The Yusuke with one friend he play-fights with, a distant mother, and a school worth of kids who are terrified of his very name is not the future Yusuke they expect him to become, so... why base his resurrection on what he's already (not) accomplished? Granted, the show is very unclear about what, if anything, Sayaka will do if she decides that Yusuke doesn't have a life worth going back to (even if I have my own theory discussed at the end), but the fact that this is suddenly a factor at all seems grossly unfair, not entirely unlike Kuwabara's rigged promise. We as the audience know that people love Yusuke. Yusuke himself is beginning to acknowledge that. But if this fourteen year old delinquent truly had no one that wanted him back from the dead... isn't that all the more reason to allow a resurrection and give him the chance to build a life where he would be missed? 

This stupid shonen got me thinking too much istg. 

Yusuke, ever the self-deprecating pessimist, bypasses all of the above thoughts and jumps straight to, "It's clear if [Keiko] had any sense she'd want me gone." I'd find that attitude incredibly sad if I wasn't distracted by how cute Botan and Sayaka are, sitting on the oar together. The spirit girls who fly together, thrive together! 

Botan starts teasing Yusuke about having a crush, which just feeds his temper and Sayaka's confusion. Deciding that she needs to gather more info, they follow along for an average day of school because these earlier episodes are, apparently, ghost-stalk Keiko hours. 

We see her reading aloud in class from Heart of Darkness (not the easiest book for some middle schoolers), scoring a point during volleyball practice, refusing to let one girl cheat off her homework, but happily helping another who runs up with a question. So she's pretty, athletic, and academically successful, the trifecta for any good love interest. Sayaka is impressed not just with her "nearly perfect" scores, but also the maturity that Keiko demonstrates, such as maintaining her morals about cheating while remaining compassionate. 

Actually, I really love the contrast this provides for us, the viewer. Meaning, Keiko is shown to be at her least mature when in Yusuke's presence. Not that her responses aren't justified, but watching her dramatically snatch gum from his mouth, slap him across the face, or pull crazed expressions as she yells at him is a far cry from this calm, poised, soft-spoken Keiko. It's a way to visually show us that she's comfortable in his presence, despite the suspect humor attached. Not that the Keiko we see at school is faking or anything — she is legitimately that kind and articulate — but we see that being with Yusuke allows her to relax in a way she doesn't with others. School!Keiko is, as Sayaka says, pretty much perfect, 24/7. Yusuke's Keiko is a little rougher around the edges, in a way that implies a multifaceted personality shining through. 

However, the only conclusion our trio draws is that, given Keiko's accomplishments, any attraction must be one-sided.

Poor Yusuke lol. 

In a plot move that is so ridiculously contrived, just as Yusuke is grappling with the accusation that Keiko couldn't possibly like him back, a "handsome boy" arrives to ask Keiko out. He says that he couldn't bear it when she stopped reading Heart of Darkness because he's fallen in love with her voice. "Will you be my girlfriend?" 

Please excuse me while I lose my shit over how ridiculous this is. I legitimately straight up cackled when I watched this scene. 

Luckily for Mr. Absurd, Keiko takes him seriously — and lets him down easy. She says she can't be his girlfriend and when he presses the "Why?", asking if she already likes someone else, Keiko confirms that she does. This is done through a shot of her feet. Not a POV shot given the angle, but close enough that it feels like we're stepping into Keiko's shoes (haha), shyly staring down at the floor in embarrassment and regret. 

Rejection complete? The guy screams. 

I mean he screams. 

I mean this nobody we're never gonna see again unhinges his jaw and lets out an unholy shriek the likes of which makes me shriek in utter GLEE. 

It's insane. It's wonderful. I'm going to use one of my coveted image spots to show you his face: 

Look at that and tell me this show isn't amazing. 

Okay, I'm focusing again. As Keiko runs off Botan and Sayaka start dragging Yusuke, teasing him about how Keiko chose him over that "charming handsome boy." 

...Please scroll up and look at that image again. I find YYH's definition of "charming" and "handsome" to be hilariously wrong. 

Yusuke, as per usual, throws himself into damage control, claiming that Keiko didn't say who she liked, so really it could be anyone. They're not buying it. “'I like Keiko' is written all over your face!” Botan crows. Meanwhile, Sayaka is scribbling in her little investigator's journal that feelings on both side are severely misunderstood. "Suggest serious counseling." 

Fantastic idea, Sayaka. I'd personally suggest counseling for the whole dying/best friend getting resurrected thing... but relationship woes work too! 

We cut to later when school is out and Keiko has gone over to Yusuke's. To say that Atsuko has done a poor job of keeping the house clean lately would be a serious understatement. 

Keiko points out the old food and broken glass specifically, cluing us in that this isn't just a messy environment, but a dangerous one as well. This is proven when she accidentally knocks a stack of books over and a used bowl falls onto Yusuke's face. What's interesting is that Keiko says that things are "back to normal" now, though I'm not sure if that's in reference to the state of the house, or just the note Atsuko left behind, asking Keiko to take care of Yusuke while she's out. I'm inclined towards thinking it's just the note, partly because of Keiko's shock when she first arrives, because the house wasn't shown to be in this state prior to Yusuke's death (first image above), and because the note is accompanied by a great voiceover that makes Atsuko sound quite sloshed when she left. That's what's normal, the drinking and carefree attitude, not the state of her home. If we buy that reading, it allows for another fantastic look into Atsuko's mental state. If she's already an alcoholic, the trauma of her son's death and the following revelation that he's coming back might make her struggle in other ways. Like finding cleaning to be an impossible task. 

She's depressed. It doesn't excuse the state she's left Yusuke in and, as previously acknowledged, YYH is definitely not a show interested in this nuance, but I still find it fun to take what little we've gotten and run with it. 

However, Keiko is firmly on team "WTF Atsuko." She hurries to make sure Yusuke wasn't hurt by the falling bowl, bemoans him being "covered in garbage," and says that leaving him in this state should be considered a felony. Knowing it's far beyond her power to fix Atsuko's failings, Keiko swears to come here after school every day until Yusuke regains his body. It's as she's cleaning him of the dust that's gathered that Keiko becomes entranced with Yusuke’s features. Particularly his lips. The soft lighting returns, their theme song swells, and Keiko gets thiiiis close to kissing Yusuke for the first time. 

Which is a little weird, right? I mean, we know why Yusuke is freaking out. Beyond the embarrassment of a middle schooler receiving his first kiss while two ghost girls eagerly watch on, he's made a hobby of denouncing his interest in Keiko to anyone who will listen. But for the average viewer — for Keiko herself — don't we care the he's, you know, dead? Or if not technically dead, very unconscious? Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the appeal of this situation in a generalized, cultural sense (with the side disclaimer that I'm reading a Japanese product through an American lens). Sleeping Beauty exists for a reason and there's definitely an element of that here: a gender-reversed setup where Keiko’s kills may break the "curse" of Yusuke's untimely death. Even his in-between state of being mirrors the "death like sleep" of the fairy tale. But when you strip away those Disney-esque thoughts, we're left with a girl about to kiss an unresponsive body, not as a common gesture of care (the parent who kisses their child while they sleep), but as a first time, romantic milestone. 

It's a little weird lol. 

But embrace the romance! As well as its inevitable interruption. Just as Keiko is about to land a peck, the neighborhood watch committee announces a heat and fire warning, startling Keiko out of her thoughts about Yusuke's "beautiful face." (There's another gender reversal for ya.) She gasps at her almost-action, conveniently remembers that her mom wanted her to do some shopping, and hightails it out of there before embarrassment can really kill them both. 

So she runs off for food... in a sweater? The outfit is cute and all, but I wonder what the animators were thinking, putting Keiko in a puffy pullover during an episode all about a heat wave. 

It's about at this point that the plot goes from cute romance to absolutely buck wild. The fires the neighborhood watch committee mentioned are not, in fact, due to the overwhelming heat, but an arsonist that's going around tossing molotov cocktails through open windows. Why is he doing such a thing? I don't know. Arsonists be doing arson, I guess. The important bit is that Yusuke's place is his next target, considering that Atsuko forgot to lock the windows when she went out. Within seconds all that garbage is set ablaze, quite obviously putting Yusuke's resurrection chances at an all time low. 

"Wake up, stupid!" he shouts at his unconscious body. Mood, Yusuke. That's me every morning. 

So this is a full scale emergency now and everyone is scrambling trying to think of something to do. Yusuke comes up with the idea to possess himself like he did Kuwabara — nice attempt at a loophole there — but since it would technically count as his resurrection, no dice. Botan decides to go get Kuwabara himself, even though he's too far away to do anything. It's still worth a shot. Sayaka, meanwhile, watches all this unfold with a somewhat clinical detachment. She's not quite indifferent and she's definitely not cruel... she’s just not as emotionally invested in this as the other two. Which not only re-emphasizes her purpose here, as an observer judging Yusuke, but also highlights the bond Botan is forming with him. As mentioned before in regards to her hanging out with Yusuke rather than ferrying souls, Botan is well past someone assisting Yusuke simply because it's a part of her job. He's her friend. 

We get some shots of the growing fire which includes a hazy texture to the animation I quite like and then we cut to Keiko several blocks away, shopping bag in hand. Word of the new fire spreads, with one bystander mentioning that it's the twelfth today. 

"This is eerie.” 

“Yeah, I can’t help feeling we’re under attack.”

That's because you are! Someone stop that man! 

Sadly, I don't think the arsonist is mentioned again, let alone captured. We'll just have to relegate that to my incredibly niche fic wishlist. 

Keiko also overhears that the latest fire is on fourth avenue, which of course is where Yusuke lives. Recognizing that he might be in trouble, she takes off at a run. 

Meanwhile, Botan finds Kuwabara practicing his kicks against a Yusuke dummy. Amazing resemblance, right? 

Watching for the purpose of recapping, I'm picking up on a lot of details in the animation I quite enjoy. I don't think anyone would claim that YYH, at this point in time, has the most impressive or flashy animation (the fight scenes later are another matter entirely), but there's a clear love for the product that shines through. The scared expression on Kuwabara's dummy. His unexpectedly dainty kick, complete with pointed toes. Botan's more translucent coloring to emphasize her supernatural status compared to Kuwabara. There are a lot of nice touches despite the overall simplicity. 

Plus, you can't forget the lovely irony of Kuwabara fighting a defenseless "Yusuke" while the real guy actually lies defenseless amidst a fire. We already know that despite his tough talk, Kuwabara would be horrified to learn that his friend rival had died (again) in such a manner. 

Capitalizing on that transparency, Botan runs a hand through Kuwabara's back to catch his attention. He gets his "tickle feeling" and instinctively looks around towards Yusuke's house, seeing the smoke. "Something tells me I should go that way." Gotta love a guy who drops everything to chase a vague, supernaturally induced hunch. 

As Kuwabara leaves we cut back to Keiko arriving at the house, staring in horror at the blaze. We get an audio flashback to her talk with Yusuke where she promised to take care of his body until he got back. So she tries to run in, only for a couple of the onlookers to snag her, quite correctly keeping her from undergoing a suicide mission. We learn later that Keiko absolutely would have died without Yusuke's sacrifice, so her "You cowards!" is born more of emotion than justified accusations. It's not cowardly to look at the raging inferno in a small apartment and realize that recklessly running in will only result in two dead teens, not one. 

I mean, the flames are already right there, licking the door. Even if Keiko somehow managed to avoid burns, the smoke alone would do her in. Still, Keiko tries to mitigate the damage by dumping a bucket of water over her head. As a kid I remember thinking this was the smartest thing ever. Utterly inspired. Keep that in the back of your mind, kid Clyde, for future reference. As an adult... I have no idea whether this would actually help or not lol. Any firefighters doubling as YYH fans? 

Recklessness and iffy precautions aside, I can't express how much I appreciate the story giving Keiko things to do. Yusuke recognizes that she's the only one with the maturity and open-mindedness to believe in his resurrection. She's the one picking up Atsuko's slack regarding his day-to-day needs. She never hesitates for a moment, heroically throwing herself into this blaze for Yusuke's benefit. Yeah, a lot of that still falls into the emotional/domestic sphere — what we expect of the love interest in a 90s anime — but too often action stories don't have a clue what to do with their non-action characters, not even when it comes to just supporting the fighters. They're simply... there. Keiko, however, isn't window dressing. Whether it's helping Botan survive an upcoming, supernatural plague, or cheering the team on at the Dark Tournament, Keiko is an important part of the story, despite lacking the fighting prowess of the rest of the cast. 

Just as important, this episode establishes a core equality between her and Yusuke. We just watched Keiko reject a (presumably) accomplished guy for him, telling the audience that these surface differences — academics, power levels, popularity, looks — don't matter to them. Yusuke is not Keiko's lesser just because he doesn't have the same scores in Sayaka's book and Keiko won't become Yusuke's lesser just because she doesn't have spiritual power like he does. The only important thing here is that they love each other and they're both willing to sacrifice everything for the other. In the span of about ten minutes, Keiko nearly gives up her life for Yusuke and, in turn, Yusuke gives up his resurrection for her. The level of care they show towards one another is balanced, despite those differences. 

They’re a good ship, y'all. Even if this recapping's got me noticing Yusuke/Kuwabara potential lol. 

To get back to the plot, a drenched Keiko charges into the fire, yelling Yusuke's name for the drama of it because we all know he can't respond. Despite the audience (hopefully) recognizing Keiko and Yusuke's equality, that memo hasn't reached Yusuke yet. "You're a lot more important to this world than I am!" he yells, hammering home that despite everything — knowing he instinctively saved a child, watching his loved ones grieve for him, helping Kuwabara just because he can — Yusuke still, deep down, believes that he doesn't deserve to come back; that he doesn't measure up to those around him. The self-sacrificial nature this insecurity produces shocks Sayaka. She points out that if Keiko doesn't save his body, he's not coming back. "What's the point of being alive if Keiko has to get killed for it?" 

Keiko means more to Yusuke than the rest of his living existence. Jot that down in your notebook, Sayaka! 

Kuwabara arrives and runs into one of his friends who informs him that Keiko just went inside. “Yusuke’s girl? The one we saved from those thugs?”

BOY does that tell us a lot about their rivalry! I mean yeah, we've already established several times over that Kuwabara — just like Yusuke himself — is not the cruel street thug he'd like to present himself as. If these characters actually wanted to hurt each other outside of a martial arts challenge, don't you think Kuwabara would capitalize on the "Yusuke's girl" bit? Everyone seems to know that they have feelings for each other, but Kuwabara never once wields that as ammunition against Yusuke. There are no taunts about him not being good enough. Or rather, I should clarify there are no serious taunts — Kuwabara is well known for his teasing. There's also no attempt to steal Keiko out from under him, the common treatment of the love interest as a "prize" that many stories fall into. Indeed, later this episode YYH will deconstruct this a bit. Yusuke sees Kuwabara grab Keiko's hand and yells that he better not be getting "fresh" with her. But it's purely Yusuke's worries shining through. The audience gets a crystal clear picture of the situation and knows, categorically, that Kuwabara has only the most innocent of intentions in holding Keiko's hand. 

(Well, running from the police isn't innocent, but...) 

I keep getting sidetracked. Plot! Keiko makes it to Yusuke's room and finds that he is already on fire. She then proceeds to try and put it out by patting it with her hands. I take back what I said about Keiko's smarts in this scene. Now we know where that supposed recklessness comes from though. Apparently they're both immune to fire! Nothing to worry about here, folks. 

JK she's actually in danger, despite the animation choices. By this point everyone, including Keiko, realizes that there's no way out: the fire has blocked the door. Sayaka then reveals that there is one way to save her. If Yusuke throws his egg into the fire, the energy of the spirit beast will release and guide her to safety. The catch? Hatch the egg early and it won't complete its intended function of guiding him back to his body. This beast is gonna guide one person and that is it. 

Cue Yusuke's near immediate decision to sacrifice his life for Keiko's. Granted, it's not precisely one life for another. Yusuke's resurrection was always contingent upon the beast not devouring him whole — something Koenma claims would have happened at the end of the episode — meaning that it's not technically a fair trade. Yusuke might have sacrificed Keiko's life for his own... only to fail to get that life back anyway. (There's a tragedy for ya.) To say nothing of how Yusuke is currently dead and has been for at least a couple of days, whereas Keiko very much is not. There's some sort of philosophical discussion there about potential being pit against current reality. 

BUT that's not the point! The emotional point is that he sacrificed his life for hers — the potential of his resurrection, the potential of that life he might have led — all technicalities aside. And I, for one, think that's very neat of him. 

A blue light shines as the egg's energy is released, providing a lovely contrast to the fire surrounding them. A path forms to the door and Keiko, recognizing Yusuke's presence, follows it. "We'll make it, Yusuke," Keiko says, which is one hell of a sucker-punch now that we know she's just carrying a corpse. Unbeknownst to Keiko, Yusuke is very much not making it. That's the only reason why she is. 

Kuwabara appears to help them the rest of the way which is also a pretty awesome thing considering that, from everyone else's perspective, the fire is still raging and blocking the door. Despite his spiritual awareness, Kuwabara gives no indication that he noticed this strange light, or Yusuke's hand in the rescue. Which basically means he lunged into a bunch of deadly fire for Keiko and doesn't question how in the world he isn't burned. 

Keiko's hands are fine, Kuwabara's whole body is fine... fire immunity must run in the friend group! 

Yusuke has another rare moment of vulnerability — "They're both okay" — and I cackle happily at the "both" because see. You love Kuwabara too, Yusuke! All this bluster about hating him and finding him annoying. The second he rushed into that fire you were crawling up the walls. 

Except then that happiness gives way to something that sounds a little more shocked. Devastated. "Well, I sure am... relieved..." Kudos to Cook's voice acting. You can hear the exact moment Yusuke realizes what he's done. Not that he regrets it, but the consequences are finally sinking in. He's relieved that they're safe, yes, but now he's never going to be able to rejoin them. 

As Yusuke has an(other) existential crisis, Kuwabara peels back the blanket Keiko had wrapped Yusuke in, revealing his face. “What are you doing with Yusuke’s body?! Are you some type of sick grave robber?” he shouts. God I love when a story actually keeps track of who knows what. Kuwabara, for all his recent involvement in the plot, doesn't actually know what's going on. From his perspective Yusuke died, he made a scene at the wake, he saved "his girl" from a bunch of thugs, lost a huge chunk of time only to wake up with her randomly hugging him (then slapping him), participated in a bet with his awful teacher and had a couple weird, Yusuke related dreams while studying, and has felt the presence of ghosts perhaps a little more frequently than usual. Now he's trying to help save Keiko from a fire only for her to reveal she risked her own life for Yusuke's body. Of course he's freaking out! What's she doing with that? 

What's utterly fantastic though is that Kuwabara takes all of five seconds to process this and then enters immediate Ride or Die mode for Keiko. She's been hoarding Yusuke's body for undetermined reasons? Well, who is he to judge? The important thing here is that people are arrested for keeping bodies, so they've gotta skedaddle before the firefighters show up. 

Hence, hand-holding and avoiding arrest. 

As Yusuke starts threatening Kuwabara not to get "fresh" with her, Botan sadly reminds him that he no longer has a say in who Keiko does or does not fall in love with. The switch in tone is jarring. Whereas before Botan would have teased him mercilessly for the crush, now she knows that nothing can come of that — and it would be cruel not to remind Yusuke of that too. 

"Oh no. I didn't think..." Yusuke whispers, further establishing that he knew the risks of using his egg, but hadn't allowed them to sink in yet. Now they have. 

He gives a fake little laugh with, "Just when it was getting good" and I cry at the development in the span of just four episodes. Despite what I said at the beginning about the show resetting each week, there has been a lot of change thus far. Yusuke wants to live now! He wants to be there for Keiko! He looks down on his tiny family and screams at the unfairness of it all! They're talking about how they can't wait for him to come back and now that's never gonna happen!!

It hurts, friends. It hurts a whole lot. 

During this conversation between Keiko, Atsuko, and Kuwabara, we see that a couple of hours have passed (it's nighttime now, the fire is out) and Atsuko is apologizing for putting them all in danger like that. And by that I mean yes, she does technically apologize with an "I'm sorry" and everything, but it's also a one sentence apology pit against... well, near death for the three people standing (and sitting) before her. Atsuko seems just as concerned by Keiko losing her hair as she does Keiko nearly burning to death and she kneels by Yusuke's wheelchair, baby-talking to him about how he forgives her, right? I love Atsuko, she's great, but objectively speaking she is not a good mother. Not right now, anyway. 

Oh yeah, and just to reiterate that: Keiko's hands are fine after patting down Yusuke's on-fire body, but her hair, which I'm pretty sure never catches, has to be cut short. Ah, anime logic. Funny thing is, YYH isn't the only story to take the love interest and give her a cool, short cut thanks to a traumatic event. Anyone read Ranma 1/2? 

During this conversation we also learn that, sometime between the fire and now, Keiko filled Kuwabara in on everything that's happening with Yusuke. Makes sense. He kneels beside the wheelchair, joining the others in telling Yusuke that they'll wait patiently for his return. Yusuke, above them, continues yelling about how they're waiting on a dead man. 

“It can’t be helped. He made this decision on his own." 

Except it can, in fact, be helped!

Just as all hope is truly lost, Koenma appears and announces that Yusuke will be returned to life. Why? Because sacrificing his egg for Keiko is a better indicator of his worth than the egg itself could have been. Despite feeding on his negative outlook and heading towards biting Yusuke's head off — something the animation backs up by showing us teeth during the fire

— Yusuke's act demonstrates a tendency towards being a "decent human being" that is "so rare." Wow. That's depressing. Still, yay that Yusuke has those qualities! And this, to my mind, helps explain Sayaka's presence. Koenma recognized that judging Yusuke couldn't be left to the egg alone and indeed, Sayaka took note of his worth before he ever threw the egg into the fire. First it was questioning why someone as amazing as Keiko would go for him, then it was solidified through the shock of Yusuke announcing that coming back to life was meaningless if she wasn't in it. Even if Keiko had somehow, miraculously escaped the fire before Yusuke's sacrifice, I bet Sayaka's report would have tipped him in resurrection's favor anyway. 

Everyone is, of course, overjoyed and my heart swells at the intense gratitude Yusuke displays. My favorite part though is when Koenma cryptically says that “Your added experience with death could make you very useful" (a nod towards future events that goes right over Yusuke's head) and his response to this is a yelled, "YOU THINK I'M USEFUL?" This poor kid. The God of everything ever is chucking out revelations left and right, about resurrections and spirit beasts, but the only thing that really penetrates is the realization that someone thinks he's useful. Talk about relatable. 

You know, I've been thinking about why this moment works so well. I mean, there are a lot of other stories where undermining the consequences our hero faces — either with humor, or by erasing them completely — can feel like the audience was cheated. I think YYH dodged that with a couple of crucial factors. First, Yusuke's consequence isn't something new that he's now avoided, it's just a permanent extension of something he was already dealing with. We did get to watch him inhabit the space between life and death, grappling with whether he'd ever be able to return. The story didn't deny us that growth, it just confirmed something we all instinctively knew: this tale won't end here with Yusuke permanently going to some afterlife. Second, the Deus ex Machina fix doesn't happen too soon. Yeah, it's only a couple of minutes in a single episode, but we (and Yusuke) still get to sit with that outcome for a while, soaking it in before its removal. Finally, there's no doubt that Yusuke earned this reprieve. Koenma's timing might be sudden and (if you're not genre savvy) unexpected, but looking back at the series as a whole thus far, we're able to agree absolutely that Yusuke deserves this. Far from feeling like we were cheated, this solution invites just as much celebration as we're seeing on screen, for the simple reason that we can buy into Koenma's reasoning. We know now that Yusuke is a good person. We saw him selflessly sacrifice his future for Keiko. We agree that he deserves a second chance. 

Thus, the episode ends with Yusuke flying up to fill the screen in his joy, a far better, final shot than Harry Potter and The Prison of Azkaban managed 😰

And that's it for Episode 4, folks! See you later for Episode 5 💕

[prentissinred]

Already Gone

Rated T Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss  Word Count: 1k  AO3

AU - At the end of season 7 episode 24, Rossi hosts the wedding of Aaron Hotchner and Beth Clemmons. 

[If you want angst, stop with Part One. If you want the HEA, see Part Two]

Part One: Already Gone

It was the perfect night, windless and balmy. The caterers bustled around the mansion, carrying trays of carefully crafted hor d'oeuvres to the handful of guests. Lanterns strung over a set table, a petaled aisle, a flowered archway.

The news had come from Rossi. It wasn't planned, a spontaneous question asked in the high of surviving a too-close brush with death. She had said yes, of course. And his friend of nearly 20 years had offered to host the celebration the following night, because why wait? The invitation was accompanied by a sympathetic, “I know it’s not easy, but he’d want you to be there.”

So she came, dressed in one of the few dresses that he hadn’t seen before, one that didn’t hold a lingering memory. It was easy at first to ignore the reason they had gathered, commiserating with Penelope about her romantic woes, embracing JJ and Will who had experienced their own near-tragedy today. A plastered smile on her face, even a laugh when the conversation called for it. She'd been perfecting this part for the last few months; tonight was just her final curtain call.

It wasn’t until he exited the house to join his guests, donning a crisp black suit and a tie she didn’t recognize, that she felt all the air leave her body. She watched him from a distance, shaking hands with Dave and Anderson, his head tipped back in laughter. He looked...happy. Peaceful. Every logical part of her wanted to feel proud that her friend — because that's what he was before anything else — had found someone. Someone good for him and good for Jack.

He caught her eye just then across the manicured lawn, and suddenly, it was like someone had scrubbed her skin raw, exposing every wound she had taken care to hide. It took all she had to not double over with the pain. He frowned, because even with every kind of distance between them, he could read her better than anyone else.

"Emily, you okay?" JJ's voice broke through the fog.

"Uh, yeah," she tried to cough the lump out of her throat. "Just- will you excuse me?"

She fled to the house, looking for refuge. An offer that she had only briefly contemplated solidified with every step she took. By the time she reached the study, the decision stood resolute in her chest. A lifeline she held onto with everything she had.

She didn't need to turn around to know the exact sound of the footsteps that had followed her into the room. Facing the collection of leather-bound books, she announced into the air in a voice stronger than she felt, "I'm leaving."

After a beat, he asked, his voice painfully neutral, "Easter?"

She turned, the answer clear on her face. "The London office."

"That's...big. Congratulations."

"Thank you." Her next words tasted dry, like they had rolled in chalk in her mouth. "And congratulations to you and Beth."

They faced each other like strangers, like lovers, like friends, neither of them sure how to bridge every intimate moment of history between them.

Finally, he asked, "Why?"

She scoffed, "You know why, Aaron."

"No, I really don't. I thought...things were getting better?"

She stared at him disbelievingly, the sheer ignorance of his question flaming her anger. "No, it's not better. Everything's changed. I've changed. I- I can't ignore that anymore."

"And you think leaving is going to fix it?" His tone held an edge that felt accusatory.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I just know I can't stay here anymore."

He held her gaze for a second that felt like hours. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead, he nodded and turned his back to her, an acceptance that she had left his life long before this night.

It was the finality of it all, the knowledge that this would likely be the last conversation they would ever have, that caused her to ask the question. "Why?"

He didn't turn, his hand holding the doorknob with just a sliver of space exposing them to the outside world. "What do you mean?"

"Why her? Why now?"

"What do you want me to say?" He moved out of the entryway, the oak door falling closed behind him once again. "Because I'm tired of waiting to be happy. Because she makes me happy." Two steps closer to her. "Because you said no."

She had. She had said no. An anniversary she had forgotten, her mind occupied by lilac freesias and shadowy figures, until she came home to an apartment filled with lit candles and a small velvet box. And what could she have done except give him a teary refusal, her heart shattering at the pain in his eyes, her only solace that this heartbreak would keep him alive. She felt a familiar rage burn through her for everything Doyle had snatched away, followed by an unbearable grief for the future she would never get to have.

"That wasn't...you know that wasn't..."

"Wasn't what, Emily?" A year's worth of hurt and mistruths woven into a conversation that should have happened months ago but instead was happening on the day of his wedding. "You didn't trust us, didn't trust me, to protect you. To understand why you did what you did. I don't know how you could think so little of me." He stepped closer still.

"How can you say that? Everything, everything, I did was to keep you safe. I would have died before I let him come after you and Jack." Less than a foot of space separated them now. "I loved you. I love you."

Anguish flashed across his face, but he schooled his features just as quickly. "It- it's too late for that now."

"I know." The tears she had been carefully holding back now flowed freely. His hand came up to her cheek, and she leaned into the painfully familiar touch as his thumb wiped the moisture on her cheekbones.

Then his hand was gone, following the rest of him headed determinedly to the door.

She stopped him one last time, a pleading whisper. "Aaron?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

His final words to her before he exited her life were, "Me too, Emily."

She didn't stay for the ceremony. Didn't speak to anyone else as she wound through the house and escaped into her car. She immediately dialed the last number on her phone and was never more grateful to hear the voice of her new life on the other side. "I'm in."

[preciouslandmermaid]

The original plan of chapter 24

!! SPOILERS !! 

Do not read if you haven’t caught up to chapter 24 of “Through the flood & through the fear.” 

Okay, I’m serious.

Don’t read this unless you’ve read ch. 24 already.

I’m adding this post to publish several days after the chapter is live so hopefully that gives everyone time to catch up.

First and foremost, you should know that Evelyn and Emmett were originally supposed to kiss !! at the start of the chapter. Evelyn came to his house and they slept together but it was a lot less platonic. (eyeball emoji).

Secondly, Ben wasn’t going to have such a large part of the fic overall & he wasn’t going to die at the Base. Truthfully, that happened while writing the chapter. I realized that it wouldn’t make sense, to me, or feel like the stakes were raised, if I had all my characters get in and get out without any consequences especially considering that I wasn’t going to kill off Regan or Marcus. 

Originally, a stranger was going to arrive at the island, seeking refuge. This stranger was going to cause contention on the island between Emmett/Ben because although the stranger is hurt, Emmett is distrustful & worried that this stranger means them harm. And Ben desperately wants Emmett to see the good in people/see the hope. While Evelyn, of course, is determined to help said stranger since they’re injured.  

The stranger was going to be the one to set the fire, killing themselves in the process, as a sort of “warning” to the island that others knew they were here and were willing to go absolutely ape shit. HOWEVER. The island being attacked is something I brain-stormed and came up with later. 

The fire was the beacon that told the rest of the attackers to attack, but it was lit by someone who snuck onto the island that night rather than someone the characters already knew or suspected. This felt more organic to me because the set up for this attack is much slower and is therefore more surprising. I really only foreshadow to it by mentioning that the island removed their patrols. I also briefly mention that people are still going on supply runs, which means if someone is watching, then they would see the boats. On top of that, in earlier chapters, if I remember right--the island survivors write messages for others and provide Regan’s frequency. If someone look’s up the signal (like Regan did in the movie) then they’d find the tower that is broadcasting it.

Because I’m a sucker--here is an actually snippet:

(xxxxxxx)

Last night—only a handful of hours ago—had felt like a dream. She slept soundly with the warmth and security of someone holding her. Before she left, she sleepily peppered kisses along his jaw, teasing him that he hadn’t woken her on time and that he hadn’t set an alarm.

Emmett had blearily cupped her face in the near-darkness and whispered, “Stay with me…” against her lips, “For five more minutes.”

It was a taste of freedom. A taste of a potential future. One that held mornings shaped in the circle of his arms.

Later, they will praise their luck that the fire didn’t spread. They’ll count their blessings that no one died.

Until Ben reminds them of the stranger. Then, people start looking and discover he’s missing. It takes a day to scour the community and docks. It takes three more to search the surrounding forest. The island is full of hiding places. Ben will lament they didn’t put up watches or guards. Emmett will remind him that he suggested it and was outvoted. They’ll argue for hours.

Until finally, while picking through the ash and smoke ruins, another survivor discovers a skull. They’ll bring it to Evelyn and ask, voice trembling, if she thinks it’s form a person or an animal despite the answer being obvious. But that all comes later.

Right now, there is the fire, the smoke, and the terrifying knowledge that the island is no longer a sanctuary.

(xxxx)

Now, because I don’t want to spoil anything for future chapters, I won’t talk about my other plans or ideas. 

BUT!

IDK. Maybe this is interesting to someone. 

Also, if you’re curious, this is (I believe) where the island is located. The island, as it looks in the movie, doesn’t actually exist (lmao) but...

It’s a bit south of CT, near the NY border. That’s fun. I’m glad I was able to find it.

and, as someone who has taken the train up and down the coast, the railroad station that we see Regan go through (Spring Creek) does not exist. Which like.....ok fair. It’s a movie. Lmao.

ANYWAY. That’s all for now <3

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Drabble #7 ⊰

Pairing: Jack Traven x Reader

Prompts:

24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.”

Words: 1.5k

Warning: Angst

Requested by @ladyreapermc​ ♡

Swirling a glass of red in your hand, the meal set on the table had long grown cold; the half-eaten food on your plate remaining untouched in the last two, lonesome hours. The clock ticked quietly on the dining room wall, filling in the spacious silence as time quickly approached midnight. Reaching your third hour alone, you morosely concluded that Jack had forgotten about this evening’s anniversary dinner. As hurt weighed heavily in your chest, you decided to call it a night, seeing no point in hoping and waiting anymore, especially since this wasn’t the first occurrence.

And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Once the food was stored away and the table was cleared of dishes, you headed to the bathroom where you stripped off the lovely dress you had purchased for this special occasion. The salty tears in the corner of your eyes didn’t fall until you stepped into the shower, your stifled cries masked by the steamy water cascading down your body. You took several breaths as the heat soaked into your skin, eventually calming your tense self and letting your mind briefly fade into dullness.

The sad truth was that you were used to this ache, the pain which gripped your heart like a vice. Though you loved Jack profoundly, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were second to his career. It became more apparent in the past three months, resulting in a string of hurtful arguments that never seemed to end. As of late, you barely saw each other despite living under the same roof. Jack often left the house early in the morning and would come home in the dead of night, too exhausted to offer more than a mere “hello” to you in passing.

It was difficult and unbearable. For a while, you wanted the relationship to survive, but you were nearing the end of the rope. After tonight, you were beginning to doubt that things would change. Perhaps Jack wasn’t ready to commit himself to a forever with you, not when his job was this demanding and dangerous. The thought of it was disappointing, but you didn’t want this kind of life. You didn’t want to force him to make an unfair decision; to choose between you, his fiancée, or the career he had worked so hard for.

Fresh from the shower and now dressed for bed, you were sitting on your side of the mattress, holding in your fingers the diamond ring Jack proposed to you with over a year ago. It symbolized his love, dedication, and commitment to you, a meaning that was starting to lose itself through the bitter words and the stinging tears. You could no longer look at it and be reminded of the future you would share with Jack. Instead, all you could see were years of longing and regret, a sad ending to what once began as a happy story.

“Hey,” a gruff, weary voice sounded by the door, and you swiftly glanced up to see Jack standing there, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his face showing remorse. “I’d apologize to you, but I already know that won’t be enough.”

Fist closing over the sparkling ring, you then exhaled a shallow breath as Jack crossed the room, slowly dragging his feet towards the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight when he came to sit down beside you, a deep sigh escaping his lips. You could tell that he was tired from a grueling day at work, and the last thing he wanted was to pick a fight; to upset you more than you already were.

“What do you have there?” Jack probed lowly, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

You opened your hand carefully, the glint of the shining diamond capturing Jack’s attention almost immediately, his expression becoming worrisome. Shakily, you extended your arm towards him, the precious ring in full view as it laid in the center of your palm. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your confession hung heavily in the quiet air as Jack tried to make sense of your words. Upon realizing what it all meant, he tilted his gaze upwards as you did the same, his dark, pleading orbs locking with yours for the first time that evening. You could clearly see the utter fear washing over Jack’s features, his eyes glazing with a thin glassy layer of tears as he held onto the last shred of control. But when you slipped the ring into his empty palm, his whole world now crumbling around him, Jack was unable to contain his emotions any longer.

“Y/N,” he spoke with an unsteady voice, your breath stuttering out at the sound of your name trembling from his lips. “Please, I know things haven’t been okay, but I don’t want to lose you, baby. I-I’m sorry for everything. Just tell me what I can do to fix it; to fix us.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to fix us,” you responded, hopeless. “You’re never home. Even when you’re here, it feels like I’m living in this house by myself. All we do is fight about the same damn thing over and over again. I’m not a priority to you, your job is, and I understand that now. As much as I love you, I can’t stay and hope for change. So, this is it. I’m done, Jack. I’m walking away.”

It hurt. It hurt to say those words, and it hurt even more watching a tear roll down Jack’s face. It was often rare for you to see him cry, and as he silently sat there, firmly clutching your ring in his hand, you swore that both of your hearts were breaking at the exact moment in time. Pushing yourself off the bed, you had barely moved when Jack caught you by the wrist, holding you back.

Turning your head around, you found Jack standing tall behind you, urging your body towards him. When you didn’t move, he stepped forward, his arms wrapping your fragile frame in a comforting embrace. Surrounded by his warmth, you sobbed into his broad chest as Jack held you close, shedding several tears of his own. You felt him press his lips to your forehead before he pulled back, bringing his thumb up to lightly stroke your cheek, willing you to open your eyes.

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance,” Jack implored, tone soft as a delicate whisper. “I love you more than anything, even more than this job. If you stay, I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell them to cut my hours so that we can have time just for ourselves. Please, just stay. Don’t leave, don’t quit on us now.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you blinked your reddened eyes to stop the tears which only burned. You couldn’t think straight, your thoughts surging like a ferocious storm as your head and heart long sought an answer.

Meanwhile, Jack’s unwavering gaze continued to beg for redemption, to bring back the happiness and adoration both of you once shared; the times filled with great laughter and love. He was hopeful that he could reverse the damage, desperate for you to give him a second chance and make things right again. 

And despite the bleak months of pain, you still wanted try. You still wanted him. 

“Okay,” you murmured after much contemplation, offering Jack a small smile. “Let’s work this out.”

“We will,” he assured softly, his right hand reaching down to grasp your left. Slowly, Jack raised your fingers up to his mouth, planting gentle kisses across your knuckles, which had you sighing. You watched as he lifted his other hand, holding your engagement ring between two digits. Smoothly, he pushed the diamond rock down your third finger, and for a second, you took in its beauty, unaware that Jack was admiring you the same way.

Glancing back up, Jack leaned forward until his tender lips touched yours. Completely chaste at first, the sensuous kiss grew deeper as time ticked away in the background, the two of you lost in each other’s taste and touch. Suddenly, Jack pulled away breathlessly, his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours.

“I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority,” Jack avowed to you, eyes shining with pure fondness. “So, I was thinking of taking a week off from work, maybe even two if they’ll let me.”

“And do what?” You questioned with a raised brow.

“To celebrate our anniversary, of course. We could also start planning the wedding which we still need a date for. And if you want, we could even take a trip somewhere; get out of LA for a bit and relax.”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you encircled your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. “That all sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Jack agreed with a smile as he softly swayed with you. “Where do you want to go? Name any place you want, and I’ll take you there.”

“It doesn’t matter where,” you replied, realizing that this was everything you ever wanted in life; happy and content, being loved by Jack wholly and adoringly. “I’ll go anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @lussdew​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​

[lesbian-vmin]

Okay. I wanted to revisit this (x) ask to talk about the topic of “disconnect” a little more. I’m going to do it very briefly, and anyone can feel free to disagree with me. I’m sharing anyway.

So, I tend to not get hung up over one video. Or one moment. Or even recent things? Because, let’s just say we watch a video where Vmin don’t have many interactions. Maybe it’s in a Run BTS episode or during an interview. They don’t always have to go out of their way to interact with each other, and just because we don’t see them interacting (especially during Run episodes, or other heavily edited shows such as BV is ITS), doesn’t mean they didn’t interact at all during filming.

As an example, I think it was in a Run episode that Jimin(?) ended up saying that he and Taehyung were watching the stars at night during BV2 in Hawaii. (note to self: find source link later) Sure. We didn’t see it. And we only have Jimin’s words to go off of. But, they spend a number of days at their vacation destination, and we don’t even get a full 24 hours worth of content. They aren’t TV show characters or cartoon characters. They are real people. Their lives go on when the cameras aren’t running, and the things that get edited out (that were filmed, but we’ll never see) actually happened. That being said, a majority of what happens, even during filming will never be seen by us. The only time you can possibly get a full unedited event is during a live show. And fancams of them on stage don’t necessarily count because different angles will tell you different stories.

Moving on to my main point. The reason I don’t think there’s anything weird going on, and try to read too much into things based on what little we get to see is simple. Let’s look back at 2017(?) or 18(?) vmin when everyone cried they weren’t close. We’ve had BV every year (except last, but we got ITS) since 2016. (BELOW THE CUT) (didn’t I say this was going to be breif? 😅)

Europe - 2016

Hawaii - 2017

Malta - 2018

New Zealand - 2019

ITS - 2020

So the reason I was never bothered and affected by those “worries” was literally because of BV, and other small moments we did get to see. Because I know that we don’t possibly get to see everything, but it doesn’t invalidate the moments that obviously show us they are close and okay. And if it’s just one small moment, it means everything. Their relationship doesn’t become more insignificant just because of what we get to see through editing and them putting on a show because they’re working.

In 2016, we had Jimin wanting to eat with Taehyung when he joined the group, but Taehyung wanted to eat seafood with SJ & JK. Him wanting to eat a particular food doesn’t mean he and Jimin aren’t close ffs. They kept in touch the entire time Taehyung was still in Korea filming. If Taehyung didn’t care about Jimin, he would have ignored him or been keeping in touch with another member instead. Later, we have Jimin calling Tae, more in a panic about him being lost than Taehyung himself. When they thought Taehyung’s bag was missing and they’d have to send him home? Watch BV1, and at that part, watch Jimin. See how upset he looks. He just got his best friend with him in Europe, and now he thinks he’s going to lose him again. Notice how he doesn’t participate so much when they start the prank on Taehyung. Because he’s just happy Tae doesn’t have to go, and he doesn’t want to give it away. I mean, this is just my assumption on this part, but it doesn’t seem unreasonable.

In 2017, we have Taehyung and Jimin watching the stars at night in Hawaii. Sure, we don’t get to see it. But we know that it happened because Jimin said so. And without reason to believe he’s lying about it, we have no reason not to accept that as the truth. Then we have the letter Taehyung wrote to Jimin and them being all sentimental about it. Taehyung had to ask if the letters were going to be read out loud, so it’s likely there were things he wanted to say that he didn’t include in the letter. Jimin said that he really understood Taehyung when he heard the letter, and no one (not even the members) could understand why Taehyung cried while reading the letter. And any fan who tries to analyze and tell you why. I wouldn’t give their theory an ounce of thought. Because if Jimin thinks not even the members understand, how can we possibly understand? I promise you there’s no theory out there good enough to be the truth behind Vmin.

In 2018...do I even have to go there? Just look at them during BV. I did a whole ass analysis about this (x), but there’s a lot more that can be said. Jimin was upset, again, obviously, that Taehyung didn’t join them right away. He’s clearly upset (and looks like he wants to cry) when they accidentally order 7 sandwiches for the members as if Taehyung is with them. He was so happy when Taehyung arrived that they held hand, no only across Namjoon’s lap, but on his shoulder, too. Jimin didn’t get to hug him until the end of their lunch, but you can bet he was sitting there waiting for the moment to do so. After Taehyung arrives, they are basically glued to each other, and Jimin goes to see and do the same things he did before because he wants to do them with Taehyung. That speaks volumes for how much he cares about Taehyung, and it shows how valuable Taehyung’s presence is to him. Taehyung could have done the things with any other member who hadn’t done the things yet, but it was Jimin who visited the same places. He even said that he was thinking about the things Taehyung would like while he was doing them, such as looking at the moon (because Taehyung likes the night views).

In 2019? In New Zealand? Don’t even get me started on this one. We have the moments where they slept together, pretty much by choice. Jimin didn’t look upset when Hoseok basically gave him permission to sleep with Taehyung in the camper. Then we later have Jimin giving up the room he wanted because the person he shares the room with was more important, and he wanted to sleep with Taehyung. He didn’t have to. He could have went with the room he wanted. But he chose to take the room with Taehyung. And, of course, we have my most favorite vmin moment of all time. Their horse date. Jimin could have done anything he wanted that day, but he chose to go with Taehyung. He didn’t even want to ride the horse. He wanted to go because he wanted to be with Taehyung, and no one can prove me wrong. If he wanted to ride a bike, why he didn’t go somewhere that was more bike-friendly? Such as a biking trail. Those exists. And they have the perfect terrain for mountain bikes. And I’m sure New Zealand has its fair share of biking trails. But he didn’t. Instead, he went with Taehyung. To a field. (Also, he didn’t say he wanted to ride a bike. He said he wanted to go with Taehyung “but (he) doesn’t wan’t to ride the horse”)

And then we have 2020. In the SOOP. There are a lot of moments in here. You have moments where they were playing together, singing together, and even in bed together. They said they wanted to sleep together, though I’m not sure why that didn’t end up happening. We can talk about theories all day, but I don’t think anyone of us knows the truth. They spent a lot of time together during in the SOOP. It’s more recent, so I don’t want to post too many spoilers for those who haven’t gotten the chance to see it.

So. To sum up all of this. The reason I don’t ever worry too much or read too much into things is because of all this. I can’t say shit about things we don’t get to see if we never even get to hear about it. If there’s a moment of tension between Vmin (I’ve talked about at least one before) we can point out how, at that moment, they seem to be tense and probably have a current issue. But anyone who honestly thinks a small moment of tension is indication of any more serious issues (such as them secretly hating each other) obviously doesn’t have a best friend, or s/o, or sibling, or parent. Because every person you’re close to is a person you get irritated at once in a while. If you never get irritated with them, how do you know you’re close? It’s when we get over things that bother us with our loved ones that prove how much we love them.

Call it confirmation bias if you will, but it’s things like BV and other small moments we get to see that assure me Vmin are as close as can be. Because they’re moments that actually happen, and a year’s worth of edited content that might make it seem like they don’t talk to each other or they’re “weird” doesn’t change the moments that we do get to see. It doesn’t invalidate them. It doesn’t make them less significant. It doesn’t make them non-existent. And go ahead and say that’s me hanging onto a thread. Because one day, there’ll be another moment. And I’ll say, “I told you so.”

The most important thing we have to remember is that we don’t get to see everything. And...I mean. Does it makes sense when I say I can’t talk about a moment they don’t interact, but the moments they do make it clear that they care about each other a lot?

I hope this answers your ask better than the first time I attempted.

Also. Note how the members tend to ask Jimin when they want to know what Taehyung is up to.