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awritingtree · 4 years ago

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The Glistening Sun and The Glowing Moon

Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: Remus Lupin has finally gotten a chance to spend time with his long-term crush but he messes up. Will she forgive him? Will he ever build up the courage to tell her how he feels?

@slytherinquill’s writing challenge: Prompt 16. ***A: *In a conversation with B* So… What do we do now?C: “In the other room* What did they say?!A: Stop eavesdropping if you’re not even going to be good at it!*** The prompts have been bolded :)

Someone please tell me if they know the new url because I never know when people change it

Words: ~3.3k

Warnings: scars, self-deprecation/hate, body issues, slight bullying about appearance, pining, fluff, tiny bit of angst,

A/N: so I tried my best with how having scars and everything feels. I’m posting after ages because I'm really busy studying for my med school exam and tbh I was lazy. But I finally posted!! I hope you enjoy this xx

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Remus Lupin often found himself pondering what he had done to receive a cruel fate. What had he been thinking when he fell for Y/N Y/L/N, the girl that brightly lit up every room she entered. The girl who was not only smart but kind and modest too, the girl who excelled in her lessons with hard work and perseverance. The girl that was so beautiful, she was a walking masterpiece.

They could not be more different. While Y/N spoke to almost everyone, had friends in every house, Remus could only call seven Gryffindors his friends.

Remus cowered in fear; made himself look much smaller than he is to hide away from the rest of the world. But Y/N Y/L/N; Y/N would walk around with her head held up high, wearing the scar that stretched from the beginning of her right eyebrow, down across her nose and cheek and to her left jaw proudly. Remus had always noticed her around, she was good friends with Lily but she had never interacted with any of the Marauders. Well not unless you count the times she'd tell them to be quiet when they were causing a ruckus during class.

Remus had spoken to Y/N once, on a complete accidental note. He’d heard her complaining to her friends about how she was nervous about the upcoming Potions assignment as they waited for Professor McGonagall to allow them into her classroom. He had blurted it out thoughtlessly like a complete and utter fool.

“I could tutor you!”

His eyes had widened, his face flushing as she turned around with a confused look on her face, wondering who’d spoken. When her Y/E/C eyes fell on his blushing face she’d smiled softly.

“Really?” she had asked with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

Remus’ hair had flopped everywhere as he had nodded vigorously, stuttering out a quiet yes. Her friends had giggled at his flustered behaviour causing his scarlet face to redden further. But Y/N, Y/N had taken no note of his embarrassing behaviour and thanked him for his offer saying she would talk to him soon. The hope in his chest had blossomed like a sunflower under the spring sun.

But that had been a week ago and Remus had not yet held one conversation with her. He’d often witnessed her walking around the corridors with her friends who seemed to always start giggling when he passed by them, probably laughing about their previous encounter, one he believed he had completely humiliated himself in. The only interaction Remus had with Y/N in the past week was the smiles they shared whenever they saw each other and so, his hope dwindled.

“Why don’t you just ask her out, Moony?”

Remus snapped out of his daydream at the sound of James’s voice. He blushed as Y/N sent him a smile, realizing he’d been caught staring. Sending a shy smile back he looked away.

He slammed his head against the wooden table groaning, “Kill me. Just kill me, Prongs.”

“I thought Padfoot was supposed to be the dramatic one,” Peter commented.

Remus lifted his head to send his friend a glare as Sirius exclaimed in protest.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Lily asked kindly.

Remus leaned against his arm, the heel of his palm tucked under his chin as his hazel eyes drifted back to the girl sitting on the Hufflepuff table.

“She’s just so beautiful, intelligent, kind and I’m just… me.”

He sighed, placing his hands on his laps and playing with them, his blond hair falling onto his forehead brushing against his eyelashes whenever he blinked. All his friends frowned at his insecure thoughts, they hated the way he saw himself. They desperately wished that their friend could see the way they saw him, the way everyone saw him, but himself.

“That’s not true-”

“Hello, Remus.”

Remus' head snapped up at the sound of the sweet voice, the voice that sounded like tiny bells chiming in the wind to his ears.

“Hi- hi. Hello Y/N.”

Y/N giggled slightly at his stuttering but in a manner that didn’t make him feel like she was laughing at him.

“I was wondering if it would be alright if we met up at the library today?”

Remus let out a sound, flabbergasted. Y/N’s eyes widened, quickly proceeding to justify her request.

“I mean you said you’d help me with the upcoming Potions assignment! I thought I would take you up on the offer,” she said in a hurry.

Remus stared at her in disbelief. Only when a sharp pain shot through his shin did he open his mouth.

“Oh um. Yes. Alright. Of course. Today. Library. Potions. No problem. Okay. Yes.”

Y/N relaxed, smiling at him gratefully.

“Thank you!” she said, bouncing slightly in place, “Is after classes alright?”

Remus mutely nodded, dumbfounded, his mind still processing what was happening.

“Great. See you then!” Y/N said before heading back to her group of friends who were watching the entire scene play out at the Hufflepuff table, walking with a newfound skip in her steps.

“You are pathetic,” said Sirius as he watched his friend slam his head back onto the table.

It would surely leave a mark based on how loud the smack sound was.

He had once again humiliated himself in front of Y/N and this time he believed there was no way to redeem himself. There was no chance in hell that she didn’t believe he was a complete moron.

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Remus had been hyping himself up the entire day, barely concentrating on any word that left his professors’ mouths. He spent the full day preparing himself to not make a fool out of himself again.

He took a deep breath and shook out the nerves from his body before walking into the library at the end of the day towards the table where Y/N was already sitting.

Her Y/H/C was pulled back into a low ponytail, a few stray strands framing her gorgeous face. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she scanned the book open in front of her. The scar on her face was light, standing out prominently under the bright sunlight streaming in through the window she was sitting next to. In her hands was a quill which she was twirling around absentmindedly as she looked for information in the pages before her.

Remus stood afar for a while, admiring her simplistic beauty, one that never once managed not to take his breath away.

He slowly strode up to the table once he realized he had been staring at her for an amount of time that was borderline creepy. He quietly placed his bag near the foot of his chair as he sat down on it, slouching.

Y/N jumped in her seat at the quiet greeting he whispered. Her startled Y/E/C eyes relaxed as they landed on his figure. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Sorry,” she muttered, “I was a bit startled.”

Remus smiled endearingly at the sight of her crimson cheeks, “It’s all right. I should’ve used a better method to make you aware of my presence rather than scaring you.”

Y/N quickly pulled out her Potions textbook from her bag, removing another spare piece of parchment along with it.

“So where shall we begin?” she asked with a small grin.

The two got to work; Remus explaining the assignment and what was required while Y/N sat and listened. The sky outside began to change colours, the blue fading into an ocean of orange, pink, purple and red. The sunlight switched from a bright to a deep shade of orange.

Y/N admired Remus’ face as the setting sun cast shadows on his features. His light brown hair resembled a golden halo at the top of his head in the sunshine. His green-coloured eyes mesmerized her; she had always loved the colour of his eyes. They reminded her of the vast forest standing out at the edge of Hogwarts, the luscious grass, the mint that gave her the morning mint tea. Remus held the colours of budding spring in his eyes; ever-young, bold and beautiful. Y/N’s eyes trailed the shape of Remus’ eyebrows, the sharpness of his rosy cheeks, the prominence of his jaw. She outlined the curves of his mouth, his tongue poking out every few minutes to wet his pink chapped lips.

“Hello? Y/N?” Y/N blinked, almost comically, as Remus’ deep voice brought her out of her daydream.

Her cheeks unwillingly burned under his stare, ashamed that she had been caught daydreaming about him, not that he knew that in particular.

“Yes, yes. Sorry,” she said.

Remus peered at her through his eyelashes, “It’s okay. I know it can get a bit boring.”

Y/N paid no mind to his words, frowning as she noticed his slouching body, trying to make himself appear shorter than he was. His head was hunched over, his neck never fully straight, concealing his face from the world.

Y/N ignored the worried look on Remus’ face and reached forward to brush the hair covering his dreamy eyes out of his forehead. His hair was soft just like she’d had dreamt it would be.

Remus stared at her, his lips slightly parted in shock. The feeling of her smooth hand running through his hair putting him in a daze. Her hand trailed the side of his face, stopping under his chin lifting his head to stand straight up. Remus’ eyes dropped to the chipped wood on the tabletop as she whispered a question.

“Why do you hide yourself?”

Before Remus could respond, a band of Slytherins passed by their table snickering.

One of the members spoke, “Look what we have here. The scarfaces are friends.”

The group burst out laughing. Y/N went to stand up, enraged and ready to give them a piece of his mind but a hand pulling her back down stopped her. She turned to look at Remus confused as to why he was stopping her.

“Leave it,” he whispered, “Reacting will only make it worse.”

The pit of snakes walked out of the library yelling out other taunts and not quietening down even as Madame Pince shushed them.

Y/N gazed at Remus who could not seem to meet her eyes. Upon hearing the rustling of papers, Remus looked up to see Y/N packing her bag, upset.

“Y/N, wait!”

“I’m sorry Remus. Thank you for your help but I need to go,” she said before hastily making her way out of the library without giving him a chance to reply. Remus watched Y/N’s retreating figure defeatedly until she disappeared. Remus sighed, burying his face into his hands.

‘Why can’t you do anything right?’ he scolded himself.

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Another week passed by. During this week, Remus did all he could to apologize to Y/N but she would not give him the time of the day. She avoided him like the plague; leaving the Great Hall when he entered, sitting as far away as possible in the lessons they shared, took different longer routes to her lessons through which she knew there would be no chance of bumping into him. She even went as far as spending all of her free time in the Hufflepuff common room, never once stepping foot into the library.

Others didn’t know why she was so upset. No one knew what it was like to live with such imperfections displayed on their face for all to see.

Y/N understood that Remus didn’t like others to see his scars but that did not mean she didn’t. She had worked so hard to build her confidence up to what it was. She had put a lot of effort into priding herself on how she looked, not to be ashamed. She had taught herself not to cower away from her reflection or due to the weight of others’ whispers and stares. So when Remus, the one person she had expected to understand, had stopped her from standing up for herself, for them, she felt hurt.

It may be an overreaction and Y/N should’ve forgiven Remus by now but when he had told her to sit back and quietly listen to the horrendous opinions others had about them, she felt annoyed, offended, hurt. But most importantly she felt disfigured.

Remus knew he had messed up. He had messed up big time. He had never been satisfied with how he looked, the scars marking his face making him feel ugly. But that was until he had seen Y/N in their second year. The Hufflepuff girl with a scar similar to his, who wore the scar like a brave warrior.

Remus had believed he was helping her when he’d stopped her from fighting with the Slytherins but it seemed he had made things much worse because by not speaking up against their vile words. He had in a way confirmed their words, confirmed that the scars were ugly, a thing to be ashamed of and disgusted by. He had unintentionally said that he believed their words to be true, that he thought he was hideous, that Y/N’s face was repulsive.

“Talk to her.”

“What the bloody hell do you think I’ve been trying to do this past week?” Remus asked, annoyed as he shoved another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

It was his third chocolate bar of the day and it was only noon.

“I mean corner her. Give her no means to escape then she’ll have to listen,” Sirius shrugged, moving about their shared room to fall face-first onto his bed.

“Bad move. She’ll hate you even more,” James said, his voice muffled by his pillow.

“What other option does he have left?” Peter spoke up as he ate yet another piece of cauldron cake.

“I should just leave her alone,” said Remus quietly, playing with a loose thread on his sweater, “It’s clear she wants nothing to do with me.”

He gazed at the thread for a bit, his mouth turned down.

“I think I’m going to go for a walk. Clear my head,” he said, getting up and leaving.

Sirius lifted his head from his head to look at his two best friends, “I think we know what to do boys.”

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After a long walk through the grounds of Hogwarts, Remus was making his way back to the Gryffindor common room, his head in a much better mindset than before. The corridor was surprisingly empty but he guessed everyone must be in their rooms, catching up on some much-needed sleep or doing the humongous pile of work they’d been assigned.

Remus paused and looked around the corridor thinking he had heard some footsteps. He shrugged and continued on his way when his eyes saw nothing but armours and portraits. Suddenly a push forced him into a classroom, the door locking behind him.

Remus stumbled before starting to bang on the door in a panic. “Hey! This is not funny! Open up!”

“Don’t bother,” a silky voice cut his shouting short, “I’ve been trying that for the past few minutes and no one is opening the door.”

Realization dawned on Remus. He turned around to face Y/N, a guilty look on his face, “I think I might know who is responsible.”

“Your friends. I know, it became obvious when you were shoved into the door.”

Remus smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry. I don't know what they were thinking. They shouldn’t have-”

“Remus,” she stopped his ramble, “It’s okay. I know you weren’t involved in whatever they planned.

“You never seem to be,” she shrugged.

Remus looked at her curiously, “What do you mean?”

Y/N looked down at the feet, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks as she realized what she seemed to have admitted.

“Your pranks. I’ve noticed you usually don’t participate in many of them.”

Remus raised his eyebrows at her confession, “Yo- you’ve noticed me?”

Y/N looked up and gazed into his eyes, “I’ve always noticed you.”

Remus gulped, lost on what to do next, “Why?”

Y/N smiled at Remus walking up to him.

To Remus, Y/N may glisten like the sun but to Y/N, Remus glowed. He glowed like the moon hanging in the night sky taking attention away from the billions of twinkling stars. He glowed to bring light on the darkest of nights.

Remus’s eyes closed in pleasure, suppressing a shiver as she traced his scars endearingly.

“Why?” she whispered.

Remus let out a shaky breath at her proximity, her breath fanning his lips.

“Because I find you to be exquisite, Remus Lupin.”

Remus gasped as Y/N’s lips touched his. His eyes fluttered shut as their lips moved against each other slowly and clumsily, testing the new waters they found themselves in.

Y/N pulled away and began to press soft kisses against his scars. In between each sentence she spoke, “You are intelligent. You are kind. You are caring. You are beautiful.”

She cupped his face in her hands looking directly into his teary eyes, trying to make him believe that she meant every single word that fell from her lips from the bottom of her heart, “You are perfect Remus.”

Remus pressed his lips firmly against Y/N’s, encircling an arm around her waist bringing her closer as his other hand cupped her face and tilted it allowing him to deepen the kiss. Y/N’s hands left Remus’ face and buried themselves in his hair, tugging at it. Their lips moved passionately against each other, their senses overwhelmed with the amount of serotonin coursing through their veins.

They pulled away from each other with giddy smiles on their faces. Remus tucked her hair behind her ear before trailing down to admire the crescent moon necklace that hung around her neck, the metal cold against his warm fingertips.

“So... what do we do now?” Remus asked insecurely.

Y/N was stopped from answering at the sounds of rustling and whispering, “What did they say!?”

Remus sighed in exasperation before shouting, “Stop eavesdropping if you’re not even going to be good at it!”

A thump of a body falling against the floor and a few curses later, the sound of receding footsteps echoed through the otherwise empty corridor and classroom.

Remus smiled lovingly at the sight of Y/N trying to hush her giggles by covering her mouth.

“I’m sorry about them,” said Remus after her giggling died out.

“They are not much different from my friends,” Y/N reassured him, “They were chaperoning our study date last week. I’m surprised you didn’t notice them.”

“Study date, huh?” Remus questioned with a smirk.

“Well yeah,” Y/N shrugged, looking at her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of Remus’ sweater, “At least I hoped it was.”

Remus chuckled, glad to not be the one who was flustered for once. He placed two fingers below Y/N’s chin to lift her gaze to his.

“Actually, I was hoping I could take you out on a proper first date tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But it’s a-”

“Sunday, yes. But my plans don’t involve Hogsmeade.”

“That’s only if you have the time. If you want to,” Remus quickly added, hoping it didn’t look like he was forcing her into anything.

Y/N smiled lovingly, “I would love to.”

In Y/N’s opinion, the consequent radiant smile that overtook Remus’ face outshone the sun, moon and stars combined.

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anthrogothic · 3 years ago

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Body/Prision

~Well, this is the first fic I've posted (not that I've written many). Maybe I found it interesting to explore the emotional and psychological side of the clones and, of course, Echo. Besides, of course, other little things. Hope you like it. 🥺 (and sorry for any mistake as this fic was originally written in brazilian portuguese).

Second part heeeeree

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader (in this chapter only Hunter and Wrecker appear for now)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Body insecurity and bullying.

You were always a woman of science. Curious, persistent and genius. As a child, you loved growing plants and watching animals. Sometimes experimented with changing the color of flowers in jars with colorful products or hatching small eggs of birds and reptiles in small boxes bathed in light and heated cloths. You once set fire to his parents Aldeeranian Silk curtains, after pointing a magnifying glass in front of the sunlight streaming through the windows.

No wonder you was one of the top students at Naboo's Faculty of Science when was older. After all, you were one of the few females in your class. Being constantly the victim of offensive comments and jokes, mainly because of baggy clothes that didn't mark your body, adopted after years of harassment for your sharp curves. Your glasses and voluminous hair didn't do much for the "jokes" to stop. Withdrawn in any group of popular and partying colleagues, you had nothing but to study with your few fellow “nerds”.

As a result, you soon got your first job in the field. Standing out so much that you was invited to participate in the cloning processes on Kamino a few times, even creating a certain professional relationship with Nala Se, the chief scientist.

You weren't a fan of cloning, even though it was incredible, you found it somewhat unethical in relation to the impact on the lives of Jango Fett clones. They weren't just battle products or numbers to you, but Human Beings with as many rights as anyone else. That they should have autonomy over their lives. But work is not always 100% pleasant, as much as it is something you love as long as you understand being human.

With your occasional visits to Kamino, you ended up having the sympathy of the clones, precisely for treating them like ordinary people, with different names and personalities despite the identical DNA and their fateful serial numbers.

You even ate with them in the cafeteria instead of the staff room and played with them in your free time and some would sneak men's uniforms for you, who were too bothered by the looks and teasing you received in your tight women's uniform.

One day, during a typical meal with your friends, a tone of laughter and nasty comments made you take your attention off your plate.

You poked your clone friend in the shoulder on your right.

"What is happening?"

He, without even looking up, snorted a laugh and spoke before taking the meal to his mouth:

"So you don't know the subject of the moment? There is a new squad among us. Weird… but they haven't suffered a single casualty on the field so far."

You raised an eyebrow, craning your neck a few times in an attempt to see something.

"I was not informed of this. I have not been assigned to inspect newly graduated soldiers for some time. But why the laughter and so much whispering?"

Deep in your brain, the bitter memory of your college days was pulled.

Your friend gave you an incredulous look, gesturing to find the right words to avoid any reprimand from you:

"They… well… are technically defective. Very different from us. No wonder they nicknamed them The Bad Batch."

He stifled a laugh. Soon getting punched in the arm accompanied by a scowl from you.

"Okay, okay. Forgive me, clone rights advocate."

His irony was clear, making you roll your eyes and get up, heading towards the counter where they left the used dishes. After thanking the wrinkled green lady who served the meal, you turned in the direction of leaving the cafeteria, but a sharp impact on your face and chest propels you back, followed by a lot of pain and strong hands gripping your elbows.

"Hey! Are you okay?"

A familiar, but deeper and stronger voice resonated in your ears, making you open your eyes faster than you normally would, as you bring your hand to your forehead and in the background thanking the Maker for wearing contact lenses instead of glasses today . It took you a while to map the face of the man in front of you. His long dark hair fell to his shoulders, his red bandana letting out a few shorter strands across his forehead, his almond-shaped eyes looking a little worried, and finally, a tattoo that covered the entire left part of his face.

He was familiar…but at the same time very different from the other clones. Even the armor, grey and red. Definitely seeing a different face in that cafeteria was a bit intriguing.

"I think you broke her, Hunter!"

A loud, husky voice came from behind you, making you turn your back to the tattooed man, just to behold the huge soldier who covered your entire field of vision.

He was huge, broad and with perfectly shaped muscles. Gradually, your eyes traveled from his abdomen, across his broad chest to his face. This one had no hair. He had a blind eye, with a huge scar running from there to the ear. The clone's good eye looked you up and down, literally.

"I'm fine… sorry… I-"

You were shocked by the image of both men. Could it be they who your friend had spoken of?

You can barely complete your sentence when interrupted by a clone next to you.

"Well well. The scientist and her laboratory freaks. How comical..."

He didn't even stop to stare at you, being followed by two other clones who clearly enjoyed the bad joke.

The men beside you clenched their fists and the bigger one growled, taking long, heavy strides in front of you, until he was stopped by the tattooed-faced clone, who practically jumped in front of him, bracing a hand on his chest.

"Forget it, Wrecker. It's not worth it… and we can't take another warning for assault in the cafeteria."

The taller one nodded a few seconds later, clearly disappointed not to get his hands on his attacker.

With slow steps, you approached them, curious and also irritated by the other clone's words.

"Idiots."

You huffed, crossing your arms over your voluminous breasts.

"You are the new squad the others are talking about, aren't you?"

There was a certain wonder in your voice now.

"Force Clone 99, doctor!"

The two said in chorus, with clear pride in their words and saluting.

"The rest of the team is going through the assessment upstairs. Miraculously we both got through!"

Said the taller clone, with humor in his voice, pulling a smirk from the tattooed clone.

You smiled, even more in awe of them. They were beautiful, unique and not "sloppy".

"Nice to meet you Hunter and… Wrecker, isn't it? My name is Y/N, I work in the lab."

The two looked at each other, minimally polite treatment to the clones was a little rare around here.

"We've heard about you. Won't you give me a warning? For… bumping into you?"

Hunter was a little suspicious, moving closer to you, watching your forehead. Looking for any evidence of injury.

"Oh no, of course not. It was an accident. I also barely looked where I was going."

You tried to be as gentle as possible, despite your brow and nose bothering you, already realizing that it couldn't be too easy for them to get along with each other. You continued:

"Trust me, I know what it's like to be bothered all the time by little jokes and to have people pick on me out of simple dislike. I'm not like the rest of the employees."

Wrecker approached you, already with a content expression on his face.

"There is! I liked her! At least someone here doesn't hate us!"

The clone pulled you into a hug, pressing his side with yours. You blushed a little, as physical contact was never common with you.

Hunter continued with a suspicious expression and his arms now crossed, making him even more imposing, just taking the look off your face, when the communicator you carried in your pocket beeped.

Brought out of your reverie by Wrecker's tight embrace and Hunter's form, you picked up your communicator to read the newly arrived messages.

"Uh… I need to go. Nala Se never give me a break. See you later guys. Hope to meet the rest of you!"

You headed towards the exit, leaving a sympathetic smile as you left the clones. They were still there, trying to absorb how kind you, a scientist, were to them.

#tbb x reader #echo x reader #star wars #the bad batch x reader #the clone wars #fanfic #hunter x reader #arc trooper echo #clone simp #body/prision #echo x you #echo x fem reader #echo x y/n #star wars x reader #clone wars x reader #clone trooper x reader

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itonje · 3 years ago

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How did you get into Arthurian legend? I don't know where to start!

hi omg sorry for getting to this late but uh i alwaysss recommend my mutual @/gringolet's post on an intro to arthuriana which covers most of it but hmmm if you're asking me how i went about it i started semi chronologically with uh some early arthurian adjacent docs irt to subroman britain (i dont recommend this. dont do this have fun) and made my way up to historia regum britanniae (i do recommend this one but you can just read the arthurian parts if you dont want to read anything else lol..) also i recommend reading other pseudohistories! layamon's brut and historia gentis scotorum are my favs but wace's roman de brut is good as well..then when you get to romances most famously there are the romances of chretien de troyes. my favorite is lancelot, knight of the cart but it is...a lot. yvain, knight of the lion is also very good i recommend that as well. perceval, or the story of the grail is unfinished so fair warning but there are lots of other grail narratives if thats your thing (my personal favorites are parzival, peredur fab effrawg, and the didot perceval. i really like perceval stories lol) also theres the epigonal romances and like thats an entire thing in itself but my favorite of all of them has to be meraugis de portlesguez it is so entertaining it is more entertaining than a lot of modern stuff ive read honestly.

if you're looking for prose romances, there is...the lancelot grail cycle, or the vulgate, which is really long and has a lot of content it is where most of the most popular arthurian traditions originate. then there's the post vulgate which is a sort of a condensed version of it? ive not read either i dont know how much they differ lol. i know that it features more tristan and iseult stuff which is like, if you like or want to read tristan and iseult stuff this post is really good also by my mutual @/tillman i personally am not really invested in the tristan and iseult stuff but like. that is a personal thing lol. also irt to prose stuff the three romances of the mabinogi + culhwch ac olwen + breuddwyd rhonabwy are the arthurian stories in the book but i just recommend it in general it is so good. it is so good please god read the mabinogion im a big fan of welsh arthuriana in general so if you want to have more recs for that specifically lol...

also yes i will talk about the english stuff now cause thats what people like well layamons brut is in like..extremely archaic english but there's also the prose merlin (highly recommend but it is hard to find a translation online that's in like. contemporary english), there's also lancelot of the laik which is great, the alliterative morte arthure which is probably one of my favs it is excellent but then again i like the iliad so maybe i'm a biased slut for war epics (also yeah its a war epic lol). um also theres sir gawain and the green knight which i know is like the most famous of all of them and theres a movie coming out and whatnot and like its fine. its a good starter because it tells a very contained story on its own it doesnt expect you to understand everything ab arthurs court its very entertaining but imo i would read other romances featuring gawaine before this one (which is basically like. all the verse romances lol hes a popular character. my little meow meow). speaking of gawaine the dutch romances (which feature him. heavily) are good. theyre very good and i recommend them highly they also tell contained, highly entertaining stories um id start with moriaen (which is what i started with) and then skip around from there they're all great tho.

um now everyone's wanting me to say it which is uh. lets talk about le morte darthur! i dont recommend it as a starter text even tho i read it like really early on myself so do what you want however id say get one of those like, condensed versions like howard pyles king arthur, andrew langs book of romance, beatrice clay rodger lancelyn green and henry firth bc they all tell condensions of it and id keep it on you while youre reading the original thing just in case like things dont make sense or whatever lol plotwise. le morte is a very late text, and it is very strange for an arthurian text so like idk why people say to read it first because. if i had to say read any arthurian medieval text last. it would honestly be this one because there is such a beautiful finality to it.

i do recommend it though but fair warning that things presented in le morte are like. not the same across all texts? thats something you should keep in mind in general like a lot of these texts are from diff cultures diff languages with their own shifted traditions of arthurian stuff so just in case theres contradictions or whatever between them even in the texts itself (i am looking at you geoffrey of monmouth and anna's family tree) like, dont sweat it or whatever theyre just weird like that. its like comics or whatnot.

anyways this is all to say you have a lot of places to start and pick around from id recommend shorter stuff first and stuff whose translations are usually pretty accessible and contemporary (this is why i highly recommend de troyes' romances in the beginning) just to get used to it cause the 'plot' structure of these things esp in the verse romances is like a bit different than modern lit so i know that can be offputting for some people. like i said like modern condensions of arthurian stuff are invaluable, so are um indexes? there's a couple i don't know if there are any pdfs floating online but i know they usually carry them at libraries and whatnot...

there's a lot of modern modern stuff i dont know about any of it. i couldnt even tell you about bbc merlin i am quite stupid in regard to it. i do know a fair bit about victorian stuff which is modern tho! i should make a post on that but like tldr victorian arthurian poetry good. most of it. victorian arthurian content tho is really in a whole different world as compared to medieval lit so like. well leave all the generally post medieval stuff off for a min asjkldfskld

so like. yeah have fun i know i didnt leave any links on this post (mostly) but if you want any text i mention here please please ask me i WILL send you a pdf guaranteed except for the vulgate and the post vulgate i have not read those and afaik they are hard to come by. i dont know of any pdfs of arthurian indexes if you want one but i could try to find one..?

anyways yeah if this is confusing im sorry 😭😭😭ive answered a question like this a couple times as well jic ehehe https://itonje.tumblr.com/post/641224624484581376/could-i-ask-how-you-got-started-in-arthurian

https://itonje.tumblr.com/post/651581606366265344/hey-finny-im-so-sorry-to-bother-you-but-a-week

#finny.txt #asks #arthuriana #yeah sure

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weeb-writor · 4 years ago

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Babysitting Aizawa’s 6... no 10 Nieces and Nephews

Hey There! Today we have the second part to the Aizawa fic I posted a few days ago! It can act as a stand alone so don't worry if you haven't read the first one! Ill try to post it here but I'm new at this. Also isn't much Shouta x you in this, just domestic fluff! More a set up for the loving in the next work, I hope you'll still read it anyway. Reader is neutral and I hope you all enjoy!

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Aizawa Shouta x Reader

Aizawa’s mom goes into the hospital for an emergency surgery and all his siblings turn to you to watch their kids, but you don't remember there names let alone their kids.

Words: 2610

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look a bit of mess currently. You were sitting at home in your pj’s with about 20 pictures scattered around you and 20 pieces of paper. You looked like one of those crazy conspiracies theorists. When in reality you were only trying to learn your boyfriend's family’s names and likes, in preparation for Christmas of course. It was not going so well all you could remember was Saika was the eldest sister but which sister was she exactly? You looked between the two pictures on the table. None of the Aizawa’s age so that didn’t give away and you couldn’t remember if she had the long hair or the bob.

“God help me.” You mumbled with a sigh as you threw your head back. By some great miracle a phone call pulled you from the task. Surprised to see it was Aizawa you picked it up with a smile.

“Hey baby.” He said

“What’s up love? Aren’t you in class?” You said a tiny bit concerned.

“Should be but my mom’s going in for some emergency surgery, so me and my family are going up there.”

“Oh, are you alright?? Do you want me to come?” You rushed out to him

“No, and I’m fine. It’s a fairly low risk surgery from what I’m told. There is of course something you could do for me.” He said lowly

“And that would be?”

“My siblings need someone to watch their gremlins and I had the perfect person in mind.” He said with a light chuckle. You knew right away who this mysterious person was. Part of you wanted to say no because it was a lot of young kids but the other part of you knew you were gonna say yes. Even if he didnt say so, Aizawa was worried and he didn’t need to be stuck watching the kids, none of them did.

“Yes, of course! Tell your siblings to bring them to my place. I got a few toys from babysitting years ago.” You said getting up to get ready.

“You're a lifesaver.” He said fondly

“Says the hero, I love you babe, everything is gonna be fine and of course be safe.” You told him

“Love you more, kitty cat. You’ll be great, see you when I get home.” He said hanging up. Well now you were panicking. How many kids were there again? What about their parents? You couldn’t even remember their names. How are you supposed to greet them? Holy shit what did you get yourself into is all you could think as you rushed to clean your house. You were barely finished when the first knock came, you opened the door with a small smile.

“L/N!” A tall black haired man said. He looked like Shouta no doubt but he had an undercut and was taller.

“Please call me Y/N.” You smiled at him.

“Aww, you're too sweet! Seriously, how did Shouta end up with you?! Anyway, This is Haru and Jun, they are gonna be good little boys for you, right?” He paused as the boys nodded. “Thank you so much we should all be back to pick the kids at 10!” He said as he started to leave. You waved him off and showed the boys in.

“Alright! So I’ve got a few toys and I think i've got all the cartoon channels. I want to make sure we get all your cousins here first before we do something really fun.” You said to the little boys who immediately went to sit on your couch and watch the cartoons that were playing. You let out a huge sigh of relief. It was done prematurely as a knock at the door was heard. You opened it to reveal his two sisters which was which you didn't know.

“L/N you sweet little lifesaver! This is the rest of them except Rei, Daisuke, and Maki. They all walk together from school, we let them know to come here so don't worry about walking to go get them. Also, only two of them are still in diapers so you should be fine! Thank you so much, love.” The shorter one rushed out before she left, pulling her sister with her. You looked done at the baby that had somehow got into your hands. Alright this one was obviously in diapers, the one grasping on to your pant leg barely standing up was probably the other one in diapers. Okay you were now surrounded by um.. 6 six kids, maybe more you weren't sure.

“Okay, now that we're all here, wanna play a game? It's really fun I promise.” You said with a cute little smile but you were lying. You only wanted them to introduce themselves and say who their parents were. You had no idea how to make it fun.

“What kind of game?” A little girl asked, wait you knew this one! She was the only young girl when you first met all the siblings, it was Nozomi, right?

“A umm…. A… A scavenger hunt! Yeah! We're all gonna introduce ourselves and then get into groups by who your Mama's and Papa’s are and see who can find all the treasures first! Whoever wins gets a super cool prize.” You said hoping they didn't ask too many questions about the game you just made up. Which they didn't they all were giggling and saying incoherent things excited to play.

“We’ll go first since we're the oldest. Im Haru.” The tallest one with his hair pulled back into a ponytail said. “I is Jun! Our papa is Shiori! Can we play now??” The cute little blonde one said. Okay 2 down, Tall and hair pulled back is Haru, Small and blonde is Jun, they are both Shiori kids.

“Oh us next, us next! I'm Tetsuya, that's Umi, my lil sister, and Yukio is the one on your pants. My mama is Shizumi!” The boy said. He was a cute pudgy boy with black hair that covered his eyes. Umi, the little girl had her dark blue hair in two pigtails on top of her head. Lastly the little boy holding on to your pants also had black hair but it was super curly.

“L/N, Oni-chans at school and Taiyo is too small.” Nozomi said with teary eyes. Okay so the one in your hand is Taiyo, another one of Saika kids. Okay you got this. You made it through all 7 kids, you would worry about the 3 at school later.

“Its alright me and you can be a team okay?” You said as she beamed up at you nodding. Alright with that you went to place the sleeping Taiyo on your bed. You left the door open so you could hear if he started to cry or moved around too much. You took a sheet and made a makeshift sling for�� Yukio, right!

“Okay so there are 3 hidden treasures around the house! One is a pink treasure chest filled with jewelry and prizes. The other is a huge blue fluffy whale, be careful it may bite! Lastly, there are 2 little lions wandering sound, we gotta catch. I'm gonna get you guys nets of course! First one to get all of these things and show me them gets a super cool prize!” You said as they erupted into cute tiny roars!

“Okay here are your nets! May the best team win!” You smiled at them as they took off. You felt a little bad for the Aizawa cats you had just set up to be chased but something told you they wouldn't mind. They were always so attention hungry this would probably please them.

“Okay then, lets go Nozomi!” You said grasping the young girl's hand. You knew where everything was of course so you just followed her around. Only helping her when you heard kids getting close to the hiding spots or helping her try to catch the cat. You guys had been playing for about an hour now, only needing to catch the cats who caught onto the game and were running for their lives.

“Kitty cat c’mere!” Jun said as he chased the gray cat around.

“Yeah! We jus wanna win.” Haru said following his brother. You laughed as the cat gently pawed at boys. Now that you were thinking about it there were so many boys in this family. Only 5 girls out of all these boys, Aizawa’s genes were strong for boys. You didn't get long to think before you saw a flash and heard a camera click. You turned to see 3 older children one with a camera.

“Oh man, Uncle Shouta is gonna be so happy.” The girl said with a smile. She looked to be about 12 and was blonde, if you had to guess she was Jun and Harus’s older sister. There were two boys next her one was probably the oldest of all the kids.

“Sorry for letting ourselves in, we were just knocking for a while and you didn't answer.” The older one said as they bowed.

“No no it's quite alright! Sorry for not answering, my hands are a little full!” You said as you had Taiyo still slung around your back and Umi squirming in your hands.

“Yeah, we can see that!”

“Daisuke! Rei! We gotta catch the kitties so I can win a prize.” Nozomi said, rushing off to her brothers. You made a mental note of who was who.

“Oh no problem! Uncle sho’s cats are easy to catch.” Rei said and he was right, you just had to know how. He went over to the counter and got the cat treats and sprinkled a few on the floor. The cats came running and began eating as fast as they could. He then took the blanket/net and put it over the 2 cats and picked them up, they compiled so easily it was almost comical.

“Oh! Yay! I wins right?? I get the prize!” She said dancing around you.

“Yes you do! I should go get dinner ready but you can pick anything you want to take home.” You said booping her nose. She did a little gig before taking off like she knew what wanted.

“Alright, who wants to help with dinner!” You called to the kids you roared with agreement, racing to the kitchen

“Oh you three would you mind helping and introducing yourselves?” You asked as you took out a few different ingredients.

“Oh yeah! No problem! Im Daisuke, the eldest of all the Aizawa’s cousins. First year in high school actually! This is my little brother Rei, he is a middle schooler. Then the girl snapping pictures is Maki-chan she’s the closest to my age! Oh, Saika is my mom and uncle Shiori is Maki’s dad. What can we do to help out.” He said with a smile.

“I think they said introduce yourself but whatever.” Maki mumbled kind of chest fallen. You only laughed and pointed out what they could do while you helped the kids and before long boom, dinner was done. You might have to convince Aizawa to have kids soon cause they were actually helpful. You all set the table and sat down to eat, almost forgetting about Nozomi.

“Can I have this!” She rushed to you holding a black cat plushie that had red eyes. Aizawa had given it to you when he went on a mission that pulled him from home for a month. You gave a small smile to her.

“Of course! I said you could have anything you wanted, I meant it. Let's eat right now then you can go snuggle and lay down.” You said moving to pick her up and help her to the table. Your table of course wasn't big enough so the big kids were in the living room, the younger kids ate with you and the babies you fed first were now napping. You let out a breath, it was 7:30. They should be done by 10:00 at the latest and the younger kids would be asleep by 8:30, so you could say you had this in the bag. Dinner was peaceful to your surprise and now you were all washing up and laying down on the makeshift beds you made in the living room. Maki was taking pictures as you had put all the younger children into your shirts, it was quite a sight to behold.

“Alright everyone lay down!” You yelled as you grabbed the youngest and began rocking him back and forth.

“We is ready” Umi said as she snuggled into her blankets

“Ready for what?” You asked cautiously.

“When we visit uncle Sho’ta he tells us ‘tories at nighty time.” Tetsuya slurred to you.

“Oh, okay then…. Um. Once upon a time there was a pretty Pink cat, who lived in a kingdom full of all kinds of cats. One day he got curious and left the safety of his kingdom. He went into a forest and everything was fine until he bumped into a big huge black wolf. He wanted to run back into the safety of his kingdom but the icy glare of the wolf kept him still. The wolf slowly opened its jaws…. Showing off its rows of bone crushing smile. The pink cat thought it was over for him until the Wolf smiled at him. ‘Your a little far from home, huh? Its okay I get lost sometimes! I can take you home.’ The wolf said, her tail starting to wag. The cat didn't know what made him say yes but he did. He continued to say yes time and time again, long after they had become friends. He said yes so many times to the cat he thought he might run out of yes’s to give. But when the wolf asked him to leave the safety of his kingdom behind and run around the world with him, though it frightened him. He said yes again without hesitation. And that's how the pretty pink cat learned to fly.” You said, it was a cheesy story with no real plot but it worked. You looked around to see everyone sleeping even the bigger kids. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You looked at the lot one more time before you went to work on something you had been meaning to all day. You continued to work on it even as 10 o’clock hit and you said goodbye to the kids one by one. Only stopping when a familiar set of hands wrapped around your waist.

“What’s this, kitty?” Aizawa asked as he kissed your neck sweetly.

“Ahh, nothing much! Just a family tree with pictures and the things about your family.” You said as you stated proudly at your work.

“Oh that's sweet. I saw the pictures Maki took and that you let Nozomi have your cat, I know it was special to you.” He said nuzzling further into your chest.

“It's fine, I told her she could have anything and to be honest, I'm wrapped around every single last one of them’s thumb and I would do anything for them so it really was nothing.” You said playing with his hands.

“God, I love you, how did I end up with you? I mean god I just love you. Let's get in bed. I wanna cuddle you, Right. Now.” He said turning you around and picking you up.

“Yes, sir.” You said clinging to him like a koala.

“Oh and babe, you got Shizumi and Saika mixed up.” He said into your hair.

“GOD DAMMIT”

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #my hero academia aizawa #mha x reader #bhna x reader

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hotdadslade · 4 years ago

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Let’s Talk About White Rabbit

I’ve been stewing on a post like this for a while, but after a friend got a nasty message over on twitter about it, I wanted to elaborate over here, in a bit longer form.

A lot of people probably don’t know who White Rabbit is, and that’s fine! She’s a pretty obscure character by DC comics standards, but she’s a part of Prime Earth (That is, DC: Rebirth), and continues to show up here and there. A lot of people probably only recognize her by appearance, because it’s pretty distinct:

She’s also, without question, a terrible character. If you’re a huge fan of White Rabbit, probably best to move on. If you dislike her, have no opinion, or don’t yet know who she is... well, this post is for you.

So, without further ado, here’s an explanation of why White Rabbit is awful:

First, to get this out of the way: White Rabbit (WR from now on) has no connection to the Mad Hatter. The bunny-themed supervillainess who appears with him is the March Hare. WR only appears with him once (and once on an unexplained cover page), and it seems strongly to be an accident/case of mistaken identity.

So who is the White Rabbit?

WR first appeared in New 52′s Batman: The Dark Knight. She was actually the first major antagonist in the book, appearing in the first issue and being the primary antagonist for the whole first eight issues. She’s portrayed as (generally speaking) being a mercenary, although her actual motives are extremely unclear.

For the first seven issues, we bounce between Bruce dealing with various villains that are working with WR and Bruce’s suspicion that Jaina Hudson, the gorgeous (and boy does the comic tell you how hot she is) woman he’s seeing might be connected.

Which is weird, because White Rabbit is a white woman, and Jaina Hudson is most certainly not:

Jaina is introduced to us as a half-Indian, half (white) American socialite. She flirts with Bruce, he flirts back, and so on. It’s not until issue seven that we learn that WR and Jaina are the same person, because Jaina has the bizarre and completely unexplained superpower to...

Become a white woman.

Yeah.

Jaina is capable of splitting into two separate people, and one of those people is a white woman who runs around in high heels, bunny ears, and lingerie. I’d love to explain the dynamic at play here, but I really can’t: they appear to have two different personalities, but this is never explained or defined, because...

Jaina has never had an actual arc.

Jaina’s arc starts decently enough, or at least not terribly. Bruce is portrayed as being bizarrely sexist, and constantly refers to the White Rabbit, a supervillain who is literally working with the worst of the worst, as a ‘girl’. It’s implied he might have feelings for her (???). But there’s at least some sort of interesting dynamic as Bruce tries to work out how Jaina and WR are connected (They both use the same catchphrase, inviting Bruce/Batman to ‘catch them’).

The reveal that they’re the same person is... to say the least, a huge letdown.

There are so many bizarre aspects to this. Is WR intended to be Jaina’s ideal self? Why does she spawn wearing lingerie? Does Jaina know what WR is doing while she’s away?

And that’s not even touching on the racial issues.

I don’t think it’s going to shock people to hear that DC comics (and really, comics in general) have had an issue with representing minorities. While there are absolutely groups that get an even shorter stick, the total representation for the more than a billion people in India (and that’s not counting those who have moved elsewhere) is... extremely underwhelming. Of all the Indian (or Indian-American) characters DC has, the one with the most issues since New 52 is Solstice, a character whose superpowers hide her appearance completely (more on this later), who was killed off during the events of Heroes in Crisis.

Three of the top five were created with New 52 (one was created before, while one is a Rebirth era character). One is now dead, and one has stopped appearing in anything.

And Jaina—White Rabbit—is number five.

Despite having never had a full arc, Jaina continues to appear in comics. Her total issue count keeps going up. But it’s important to note that it’s not really Jaina appearing: It’s White Rabbit, who for all intents and purposes looks like a white woman. Jaina’s civilian form hasn’t appeared since they were first revealed to be the same person way back in 2011.

I think it’s important to recognize that there’s a strong trend of representing minority characters by not representing them. I’m sure everyone can think of one (or two, or three) non-white characters who spent the majority of their screen time changed in some way. Maybe they became an animal, or maybe they, like Solstice, had a special power that didn’t just empower them, but completely hid their appearance.

And when it just happens once, it’s not a huge deal. The problem is that when it becomes a trend (Disney was particularly bad about this), it’s important to think critically.

And Jaina’s case is particularly bad. It’s not just an Indian woman who spends most of her time disguised as an anthromorphic white rabbit: she’s an Indian woman who spends all of her time disguised as a white woman. Jaina hasn’t appeared outside her White Rabbit form since May 2012, but continues to cameo in almost every major ‘all the villains show up’ event. Any time a character can change their race it’s going to need to be handled with extreme delicacy. Jaina’s case isn’t. In fact, it’s literally not acknowledged at all, which makes Bruce’s suspicion of her slightly baffling. He’s already assuming she’s a meta who can shapeshift, so why does he never consider that she could be in two places at once? The fact is that nothing about Jaina’s story or situation even acknowledges that her race changes. The story remains exactly the same (in fact, it’s better, since it resolves Bruce’s suspicion) if she’s just a meta who can be in two places at once.

So why does this matter?

Jaina isn’t an old character. She’s not a DC touchstone who’s been around since the 50s and is being slowly, bit by bit, reimagined to be less problematic.

She was created in 2011. She’s not even a full decade old, so it’s not as if she’s a classic, and we could imagine that the creators didn’t think about the implications. At the same time, she’s also nine full years old, and despite having appeared in 19 issues, she’s never had any sort of character arc of her own. She appears, to be clear, to look sexy.

Specifically, to look sexy as a white woman who is dressed in high heels and garters.

There are a lot of characters with problems who have potential. Who can be tweaked and work perfectly well. But Jaina, despite the fact that DC keeps trotting her out, is not one of them.

DC really needs to just stop bringing her back: they need to let her fade into the existence and give her screen times to characters who don’t play into extremely uncomfortable (putting it lightly) tropes.

DC’s fifth most prominent Indian character shouldn’t be a white woman.

#white rabbit (dc)#jaina hudson #jaina hudson hate #white rabbit hate #dc critical

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smoochkooks · 5 years ago

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—it’s december (and i still want you) | m.

⇢ pairing: kim namjoon/reader

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff (the holy trinity)

⇢ word count: 16.7k

⇢ warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids!), dirty talk, just good, ol’ emotional sex

⇢ summary: as the final farewell to your soon-to-be-ex husband namjoon, you spend with him one last christmas in your parents’ cottage far away from the city, reflecting on your life together before you will part your ways for good.

a/n: omg guys!! i’m so excited to post this, you have no idea:( i’ve been working on writing this for a whole month but i had this particular fic in mind since last year so i can’t believe i actually managed to finish this before christmas like i had planned. i hope you will like this. i’m sending you lots of love for the new year! xx, julia.

For how long you could remember, you’ve always adored Christmas.

There’s something discreetly magical in this time of the year, no matter if it’s an unique aura or the fact you’re the family type of person, Christmas used to hold a special place in your heart, spread a distinctive kind of warmth in your body that made you feel calm and loved.

This year though, it's different. Not because the weather doesn’t suit the occasion and instead of snowing, the sky is cloudy. The very reason is on your kitchen table, next to the big cardboard box you’ve scribbled ‘xmas decorations' on in black ink. There lay neatly folded in manila folder documents, untouched for about a week since postman delivered them. Your future is inside, just above your signature. You know those papers are not going to be read through anytime soon, that the blank space next to your name will be crystal white until the very New Year.

You know he won’t say a word about it unless it’s necessary. He won’t plead, beg, ask for delay. He’s accepted it. Deep down you wish he put up some fight, resisted, fell to his knees in front of you and counted all his mistakes promising it won’t happen again. But it’s your decision. And he has never denied your choice.

You’ve always loved Christmas. Family gatherings by the table, the smell of cinnamon in your mum's famous rolls, the colourful lights on the Christmas tree your dad never stops complaining about when he’s assigned to put them on.

This year however, Christmas is nothing but an unceremonious reminder that it’s going to be your last celebration spend with your soon-to-be-ex husband, Namjoon.

Statistically, the younger you get married, there’s a higher possibility of having a divorce with your significant other. The shorter the period between engagement and wedding is, you’re most likely going to survive approximately three years as a married person. You feel like you’ve never fitted into any statistics and algorithms better than now.

You were twenty one when you first met Kim Namjoon. The only thing you knew about him before seeing in person was the size of his family's wealth. Your mother told you he’s a good man, same age as you, majoring in business and economy tall, blonde fella. You, on the other hand, were just a girl in red pristine dress and uncomfortable high heels, with dreams to trivial for her parents liking.

The place you first met him was beautiful. A big ballroom in downtown with gleaming chandeliers, filled to the brim with people you wholeheartedly despised sipping on their Dom Perignons, a clique whose money combined together could easily build a few hospitals in Africa. You remember your mum patting you on the back, hissing to your ear to straighten, but you knew it was more an encouraging act of hers than a real reprimand. You remember your dad, laughing at something with mister Kim and from the volume and tone of his voice you knew it wasn’t genuine.

You also remember Namjoon, good-looking and smart and so sophisticated in his manners and words he could put into shame any college jocks or obnoxious fratboys you’d met so far during your studies. Namjoon with his exquisite demeanor and handsome face that drew attention from every young lady in the ballroom. You felt small standing next to him and it wasn’t just because he towered over you with his height. For the first time in your life you were in front of someone who was absolutely out of your league.

When your parents decided to leave you two alone for a while, Namjoon let out a long sigh, like some weight was lifted off his shoulders and he finally could breathe properly. He smiled at you, two cute dimples adoring his cheeks and said, ‘’Fuck, I thought they would never leave.” gulping the rest of his champagne smoothly.

You remember how your eyes widened after hearing him speak informally like that, to the point it probably must have looked comical because he chuckled as soon as he saw your puzzled expression.

“Want to get away from here for a while? I know some place upstairs where we can talk without being watched by all those tight wads.” Namjoon asked you then.

This time, no matter how shocked you were, you manage to keep your true emotions at bay. You smiled at him, nodding. “Lead the way.”

Namjoon seemed to know this place by heart, easily navigating through long corridors until he found what he was looking for: a large balcony with a view to the whole city. He motioned for you to come closer where he stood, leaning to the rail and fishing out of his jacket's pocket a pack of cigarettes. With one between his plush lips, he extended the rest towards you.

“I don’t smoke.” you said curtly, probably too abrupt but he didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care.

“Well, I do,” he murmured, lighting up his cigarette and taking the first drag languidly. “Dad's a heavy smoker. He’s been telling me my whole teenage years not to be like him but here I am,” He smirked almost cynically, fuming the poison. “Like father, like son.”

You didn’t exactly know how to react to that, choosing to stare at the city covered in darkness from a distance instead. The summer was in full bloom, night almost stuffy it made you feel hot. Your feet hurt from the uncomfortable shoes you wore and you wondered for a moment how would Namjoon react if you decided to take them off.

It was still annoyingly mute, you started thinking that maybe he was waiting for you to continue conversation somehow. Why did he even want to bother spending time with you here? Why did he want you to keep him company when you couldn’t hold a proper conversation? God, you were awful at smalltalks.

Luckily for you, Namjoon always knew what to say.

“So, Y/N,” he began, your head turning to the side to have a look at him. He was beautiful like this, you had to admit to yourself, dressed in black suit with a cigarette caught between his slender fingers and suddenly a vision of marrying him wasn’t that surreal anymore like you thought at the beginning. “I know what your family business is, I know you’re the same age as me and you don’t smoke,” he listed, gesturing with his occupied hand for emphasis, “but I still don’t know what you’re studying.”

Apparently you weren’t only bad at communicating. You were also terrible at holding eye contact but Namjoon from the very start of your acquaintance didn’t want to let you go that easily, keeping his gaze fixated on you the whole time. It made your cheeks blush and you prayed he didn’t see that in dim lighting.

“I am majoring in fashion design and marketing. I want to start my own brand in the future.” you replied. Namjoon hummed, flicking his cigarette with his thumb and ring finger. “My parents don’t really like this idea. They probably wish I worked as an accountant in their firm or something,” You laughed and to your surprise, there was a smile dancing on Namjoon's lips as well, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I am destined to work for my father from the moment my mother found out she was pregnant with a boy,” he said, voice laced with strange kind of melancholy you hadn’t heard from him since you two met. “I will take over his business after his death and work there until I die.”

“What about your other siblings then?” you asked.”

“I’m the only child.”

“Oh.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah. ‘Oh' it’s a good word to describe it.” He took one last drag off his cigarette and discarded it carelessly somewhere on the floor. For a moment you thought he was reaching to his pocket for another one, but he faltered.

It was quiet for a few long bits of time, until Namjoon broke the silence again.

“It looks like they want us to get married, Y/N,” he said suddenly and you nearly jumped in place hearing his deep ramble. “What do you think about that?” You turned to look at him, only to find his eyes already trained on you, expression smug.

You shrugged. “I don’t have much say in this.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed like he was genuinely surprised with your answer. “Why is that? Aren’t you the daughter who disobeys her parents by pursuing the career they don’t want for her?” he asked almost mockingly, taking a step towards you. “You can say no. You can dump me and find some guy who would be much better husband than me, or maybe you have someone like that already, don’t you?”

“I don’t.” You didn’t even know why you needed to clarify this so fast, you could have played along and fool him, yet here you were.

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” he concluded.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

You sighed. Was this out of relief or because he was now much closer than you considered appropriate for your personal space? Still staring at you with observant eyes, gaze vibrating, plush lips opening to say, “It’s kind of weird for me that you don’t date anyone.”

You scoffed. “I could say the same about you.”

“Not exactly, darling,” he disagreed, leaning his body to the railing so he's back was facing the city, head turned to the side to have a look at you. Your cheeks heated at the term of endearment he used, yet you rolled your eyes anyway. “I don’t do relationships. I was never in one, in fact. But you,” he trailed off, licking his lips, “you look like someone who has dozen of guys lined up to be your boyfriend.”

You were laughing. An authentic, breathy laugh that made Namjoon smile like fool and he didn’t have anything in his diffence because you were just really pretty in your red dress, standing on the balcony and giggling. He wanted to tell you this the whole night, no matter how lame he probably sounded.

“God, that was so cheesy,” you groaned. “Thank you for your subtle compliment. You aren’t so bad yourself.”

Maybe Namjoon was actually content too in this moment, that you didn’t have anyone to come home to as well. Back then he thought it was good because it didn’t complicate things more than that already were. Truth to be told, it was just a disguised excuse.

He didn’t expect you to ask next question, yet your lips somehow formed words on their own. “If you don’t do relationships, why are you okay with marrying me?”

He was so close you could count his eyelashes, you could see that little mole on his chin. You could reach and touch the sharpness of his jaw, smooth the crease between his brows that had formed after hearing what you had said.

“I just have a feeling it might work.” he answered simply. “Will you try making this work with me?”

You smiled. The thought about being wedded to someone like him at the ripe age of twenty one wasn’t that scary anymore. There was a long way before you two but you were in for a ride. Because it could have been anyone, and it was just Namjoon. Just him and above all him.

“Only if you promise me you will quit smoking.” you said.

Namjoon reached to his suit jacket's pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and dropped it to the floor. “Your wish is my command.”

He didn’t laugh it out, didn’t make some snarky comment about you already wife-ing him up.

Because Kim Namjoon has never disrespected your decision.

Few months later, you got engaged. Officially, on family gathering with your closest relatives, as a symbolic agreement made between two wealths. But in reality, you and Namjoon were never the so called ‘traditional’ type of couple. He proposed to you a week earlier, after taking you out on a bike ride by the river. There was no caviar, fine wine and crème brûlée when you both sat together on a bench, inhaling autumn air. There was no hushed whispers and clears of throats from the family, no glass clicking to get attention because he had something important to say. No practiced speech with Shakespeare’s quotes (love is a smoke made with a fume of sighs, actually a very accurate one).

It was you, no make up and grey sweatpants and him, favourite khaki jacket and stuttered words when he took out of his pocket a pink, plastic ring, like those ones they add to candies. Just you and Namjoon, the whole world, reasons, what ifs and doubts disappeared.

He wanted to tell you how much he had fallen for you these past months. That he didn’t believe in love from the first sight and God, yet Lord only knows how he had been a goner from the moment he laid his eyes on you in that stupid ballroom full of materialists. He wished to say he would do anything in his power to make it right, to have you call him your husband proudly while standing hand in hand in front of his future business partners, friends and family.

He did none of that. You didn’t let him to.

Your lips were on his and the words will you marry– died on his tongue when yours touched his bottom lip. You were kissing him, deep and intoxicating and he wanted this brief moment of sweet halcyon to never end. Because he was young, foolish and so in love that he could for once be egoistic enough to say the world was at his feet while you were in his arms smiling into the kiss and mumbling those stupid three-letters-long word.

And you said it again and again. Repeated it when you were home, pinned by his body to the wall of his old apartment while his cold fingers danced on your sides underneath a sweater. You chanted it when he stripped you bare and fuck you silly, no making it even to the bedroom because you were young, impatient and in love.

The wedding was in Spring. You got married when cherries started to blossom in whites and pinks. On the wall in front of you there’s still hanging your favourite photo from that day. Your sister took it with her phone, not some photographer Namjoon's mum had hired to photoshop your faces afterwards. It’s black and white, a little blurry and you’re laughing at something Namjoon had told you seconds before Soojin tapped the button on her phone.

You wonder what will happen with this picture and many others after everything will be done.

Sighing, you open the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You still have a tree to carry upstairs from your basement but you don’t think about it now. Normally, Namjoon would do it. But you know he will be back by the time you will be already at your sister’s home, eating dinner.

You hear door lock rattling and instantly annoyance flashes through your whole body. If that’s your mother, asking you to come home today and nag you to change your mind again, you swear you’re going to snap real hard this time.

But it’s not your mother. She doesn’t have keys to your apartment. She doesn’t own a briefcase and that’s certainly a noise of it being thrown on the floor next to the shoe case. And she for sure doesn’t sound like your own husband, greeting you during lunch hours on Christmas Day.

‘’God, I was held up in a traffic for an hour. If that’s how’s it going to be for the next days, then I’m not leaving the house,” Namjoon says, walking past you. He pours warm coffee you had made earlier into his favourite Captain America cup right away, and sighs deeply.

You haven’t seen him in the morning. He had already left to work when you opened your eyes, which is not anything new recently. It feels like he’s avoiding you purposely after receiving divorce papers. Almost as if he’s been growing distant to give you even more reasons to end things with him for good.

His eyes trail from the kitchen counter to you, still holding a golden Christmas tree chain in your hands. He hums, gulping another sip of his coffee. ‘’Oh, you brought decorations. Remind me to go for the tree to the basement later.”

You’re irritated. You don’t even know why. Probably because he’s so normal and casual about this. He’s still doing all this domestic shit, keeps up appearances and acts like everything’s totally fine. Except one thing: the lack of intimacy. He stopped calling you baby, giving you good morning kisses and goodbye hugs. He doesn’t touch you anymore, barely talks about anything that isn’t some topic he’d heard in news. He’s become now the stereotypical version of husband every woman wouldn’t want to have. It’s frustrating.

“Why are you home so soon?” you blurt out before you could stop yourself.

Namjoon places his cup in the dishwasher (he never does that and you have to remind him to do it every time) and crosses his arms over chest. “It’s Christmas and I’m the boss. I wanted to leave early, so I did.”

You hate how cynical he sounds. He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s not been coming home like that every day just because he can, because he’s entitled to work young economist and businessman who gives himself days off to please his wife.

“I’m not staying here for dinner.” You don’t like how formal your voice sounds. It’s the voice you use while talking with clients on the phone. Two can play this game.

Something shifts in Namjoon's expression. He clears his throat awkwardly and still, the first words come out hoarsely. “You’re not staying home for Christmas?”

Home. This shared apartment bought with Namjoon's money is still yours too. Until it won’t be anymore.

“No. I’m going to Soojin's. She’s making a dinner for her boyfriend and his parents and she invited me as well.”

You don’t know why you feel like you need to explain yourself in front of him. Namjoon nods his head sheepishly. You haven’t seen him look like that for a while. If anything, he looks disappointed. Something aches in your heart at the sight.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, irritation long gone and replaced with something you could mistake only with genuine concern.

Namjoon cracks a smile. “No, it’s just… I thought we could eat here, alone. You know, since it’s our last Christmas together,” He's speaking more quietly now. Almost like he’s afraid of even approaching this topic aloud, choosing the words carefully yet they sound uncertain anyway. “Mom is on Maldives right now with her new guy.” he adds after a while.

“Oh.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his head. “I guess I will spend some time alone, then.” He chuckles but you know it’s not an honest laugh. Namjoon loves Christmas just the way you do, though he will never admit it to anyone and the thought about him being in your own apartment probably even without Christmas tree because he’s too clumsy to decorate it himself, makes your insides clench uncomfortably.

You look at him now carefully for the first time in weeks. He doesn’t look like the confident, snarky businessman he aspires to be sometimes. His hair has grown longer, his skin looks paler, there are bangs underneath his eyes and you wonder if he gets any sleep. He used to cuddle you up during night hours when insomnia kicks in, because he says your body's warmth helps him relax. He doesn’t do it anymore from the day he had read the papers. He lays next you peacefully every night and even if he itches to touch you, hold you, caress you, he won’t.

Namjoon looks lost and perhaps he is, he’s been like that since his father died for lungs cancer over one year ago, leaving his business in Namjoon's hands hence he's the only heir to the empire. It was all too sudden and before you could do anything in your power to help mister Kim recover, the disease had progressed to the point of no return, taking his life away few months after he came to the hospital.

Namjoon hadn’t smoked a cigarette since the day you asked him to quit. He broke that rule once, on his father's funeral day. You found him on the porch in front of his family’s estate, so sad and broken and with a grey smoke swirling around his features. He was crying. You had never seen him like this before. He used to say tears were the luxury he couldn’t afford.

“I’m sorry.” he said to you, voice rough and strangled because there was another wave of sobs forming in his throat.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured, coming up to him. He gave you the half-burnt cigarette without a word and you throw it away. “It’s going to be okay, Joon.” He crashed his body into yours, straining your black dress with sadness and grief he was always so afraid to show while you were around. You held him like that, rocked him like a baby until eventually his breathing slowed down to normal.

He put his chin on your shoulder, still hugging you tightly, like he was afraid you were going to evaporate and asked, “Do you think I will be able to do it?”

You knew he wasn’t ready for that. Every twenty-something guy wouldn’t be. But you believed in him like he never did in himself. You had all your hopes in him, signed your future with his name, the name of the boy who let go of his beloved addiction just because you said so. Namjoon might have been entitled to marry you but you weren’t obligated to fall for him, yet you did.

Namjoon has always been the strong, monumental fortification that kept you safe in. And together you’ve made home.

Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him away slightly so you could look him in the eyes. “You won’t be alone,” you urged firmly. “I am here. You’ve got your father's coworkers who put their faith in you.”

“What if I fail them? What if they don’t see me as someone responsible enough to be in charge because I’m some young shithead who had inherited this business from his father?”

“Then you have to prove them you’re worth it.”

“Easier said than done.”

You shook your head, your palms coming up to cup his cheeks. “Kim Namjoon,” you began, “I’ve never given a fuck about economy but when you rant about it over dinner I find it interesting, because you can make it seem like that,” He smiled lightly and your mirrored his gesture. “And I know your views about business. It’s not some liberal shit that’s actually well disguised capitalism. You are more than that, Joon. Don’t you dare ever put yourself down.”

And then he was kissing you. It was more a simple smooch than anything else but it felt right to do so. To stand on your toes and capture his lips in yours. When he broke off after a moment, he placed a fleeting peck on your nose. It made you smile silly and he was smiling too, despise the situation.

“I love you.” Namjoon breathed out, leaning his forehead into yours.

In that particular moment, on a porch of his family's old manor, you were certain you were going to survive every storm when he was by your side.

“I love you too.”

It’s been two years since that day. A lot has changed, hell, both of you have changed. But looking at Namjoon right now you start questioning yourself again, whether this storm is worth letting the ship sink without trying to at least reach the land.

One last Christmas together, he said. Nothing more and nothing less beside two married people biding farewells before they part their ways for good. You owe him that much.

“You don’t have to stay here alone. We can go to that cottage my parents have. You know, the one where we spend my dad's birthday in January.”

If Namjoon is surprised with your sudden statement, he hides it pretty well. His eyebrows raise with interest. “Is that okay for you? I mean, you’re already invited to your sister's and she’s probably waiting for you, she made a whole dinner and–”

“Joon,” you cut his rambling off. Joon. You haven’t called him that in a while. He smiles bashfully and you can faintly see pink tingling the apples of his cheeks. “It’s fine, really. Soojin wouldn’t mind, I’m sure of it. But, uhm–” You clear you throat awkwardly. “–we have to buy some groceries if we want to actually eat something for the dinner.”

Namjoon's brows furrow. “Do we have time to cook something for ourselves?” he asks.

You open your mouth to object but all arguments die on your tongue. He’s right. You don’t have time to do it on your own. Well, fuck, you want to say but then, an idea pops in your head.

“I’ll take care of this.”

You’ve always loved Christmas. Never had you thought about spending them with your soon-to-be-ex husband, though.

Namjoon has always been a convincing person.

You think this side of him comes from the field he works in. When you’re standing in the middle of Christmas market down your street, he analyzes the problem of buying a real Christmas tree like it’s another deal he has to sell to his future business partners, listing you all the pros and cons and transforming them into an excel chart in his head.

He doesn’t even know why you’re here. One minute you were driving to your sister's house after dropping by grocery store, and the second you told him to pull over and wander with you through the numerous stalls with Christmas decorations.

“Why are you so determined to buy a real Christmas tree?” Namjoon asks astonishingly.

You sigh, sending the seller in front of you an apologetic smile. You’ve been standing there with Namjoon for a few solid minutes now and you can sense the man's impatience. You shrug simply in reponse. “Because I’ve always wanted to have one.”

“Yeah, but,” Namjoon pauses when you click your tongue in irritation. Now it’s his turn to sigh. “We are going to be in that cottage just for one night. We can take our Christmas tree from home with us and decorate it there.”

Upon hearing that, you take his wrist and walk a few steps from the seller. That’s it, Namjoon thinks, you’re going to pull another card now. You’ve always been persistent when things you want are in the game and Namjoon is terrible at saying no to you. The evidence stands in your living room, an old Chinese vase that doesn’t suit the design of the room at all but you insisted on buying it. No matter how much he tries, Namjoon can’t help but fall for your pleading eyes every single time, like he did when you pursued him to spontaneously purchase plane tickets for the romantic weekend in Paris across the globe, when you asked him to quit smoking. Or when you stabbed his heart with paper dagger filled with words he will eventually sign because that’s what you want from him.

So he won’t protest either when you’re about to buy a real Christmas tree although there’s absolutely no need to do so.

Namjoon knows he’s been gone since the moment you attempted to puppy-eye him. Nevertheless, for the sake of hearing you trying to convince him with sweet words and maybe some PG-13 arm brushing, he tongues his cheek in faux annoyance.

“Come on, Namjoon,” You elbow him playfully instead. “Don’t be like that. We’ve never had a real Christmas tree before.”

And after that holidays, we will never have an occasion to buy another one together again, he wants to tell you. It’s ridiculous how both of you still sound so normal and domestic when your marriage is yet to be terminated few days after New Year. Maybe it’s just an act you put up for audience.

“Please?” you try once again and yes, there it is. Your hand brushes lightly his biceps.

Namjoon exhales loudly. Then, he points his index finger at the seller. “Give me the biggest one you have here.”

And fifteen minutes later, you’re driving to Soojin's house with a 5’6 Christmas tree on the roof of Namjoon’s crystal black SUV.

It’s awfully quiet between you two, mostly because you’ve been wondering for the past ten minutes how to break the awkward silence and ease the tension. Looking through the window, you try to locate any familiar spot on the streets that could tell you how far from your sister’s house you are. When you pass the Japanese restaurant with big koi fish in the logo, you estimate you’re up to five minutes from Soojin's.

“Does she know you’re not coming for Christmas dinner?”

You’re so deep in thought you almost don’t register Namjoon's talking to you. “Huh?” you mumble dumbly.

“I asked if you already texted Soojin you won’t be on her Christmas dinner.”

In the corner of your eye you see the sports equipment shop. Three minutes to go. “No, I didn’t. I will explain her everything in person.”

Namjoon nods, stopping the car at the red light. You curse in your head. One more minute longer. “Do you think she really won’t mind? Knowing your sister she’s probably going to be pissed off you’re making a fuss in her well-planned schedule.” he says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe he’s impatient too.

Instantly, you chuckle at his words. Namjoon’s right. Your sister is a control freak. She doesn’t like last minute changes and sudden cancellations. You’re more than aware of that. But this time, you know she won’t have anything against your sudden outburst.

“Have a little faith in her, would you? It’s Christmas.” you reply teasingly.

The light changes to orange, then to green.

“I really want to but I can’t help but think how she almost beat the shit out of me when we both overslept that one infamous morning and you were one hour late to your branch.”

“It was a day after we got from the honeymoon. She hadn’t seen me for almost a month back then.” you point out, although not to justify her.

Namjoon snorts. “She came to our apartment that morning and gave me a lecture when you were showering,”

“Yeah but–”

“She told me, I’m quoting: ‘You had a whole month to yourselves and you decided the morning I was supposed to have a branch with my sister is the best time to bang’.”

You’re fully laughing now, cheeks red from embarrassment because apparently, Soojin was partially true back then. You did wake up that morning around eight to get ready for the meeting, but you were too distracted by the feeling of Namjoon's morning wood poking you from behind. And when you unintentionally moved your body so your ass rubbed against his stiff shaft, the groan you heard in response and a muscular arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest prohibited you any kind of protest.

Your face goes hot at the memory. And by the slight blush adoring Namjoon's cheeks, you know he’s thinking about the same thing as you.

He clears his throat. “So yeah. Your little sister scares me.”

The car pulls in the familiar neighborhood of akin terraced houses, the one in which Soojin lives with her boyfriend standing at the end of the street.

“Even though she’s younger than me, she’s always had in herself to protect me at all costs. She really likes you though, Namjoon. She did from the very beginning. It was just her weird way of keeping things in control.” you say and that effectively puts and end to the conversation.

Namjoon's SUV stops in front of the gate and you see him smiling in the corner of your eye. “I know,” he breathes out. “Don’t be there for too long. We still have a Christmas tree to decorate later.”

You don’t know why you’re beaming like a teenage girl when you slam the door behind yourself and walk to your sister’s house.

Soojin, as Namjoon has predicted, is displeased. But apart from everything else, she’s mostly confused, standing in front of you in yellow apron with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

“What the hell are you doing here already, Y/N?”

You sigh loudly, taking off your coat and stepping off your boots. You feel your younger sister’s eyes piercing through your scull yet you don’t falter. Straightening your back, you greet her, “Hello to you too, Soojin-ah.” You hear her scoff in response.

“Hi, Y/N! What’s up?” Taehyung, Soojin's dear boyfriend shouts from the living room. He’s sitting on their couch, fumbling with Christmas tree lights and probably trying to find the faulty one among ninety-nine others working.

“Hi, Tae. Everything’s peachy.” you answer him and the man sends you his signature boxy grin in response.

Soojin crosses her arms over chest. “Peachy? Then why are you here so early? I told you we start at seven.”

“Yeah, about the dinner. We need to talk.”

She narrows her eyes but cocks her head at you to follow after her to the kitchen anyway. There’s quite a mess going on here and from the smell of the pastry lying on the counter you assume she’s making your mum's cinnamon rolls.

“So,” she begins, taking off her apron. “Talk.”

“Are those cinnamon rolls from mum's recipe?” you quip, trying to avoid her persistent stare.

“Y/N, we are not here to talk about food,” Soojin warns but when she sees you extending your hand towards the plate where warm, already made ones lay, her gaze softens. “I changed the recipe a little bit to make it vegan. For Taehyung.” The corners of her mouth lift up slightly at the mention of her boyfriend.

Taking the first bite of the roll, you hum between chews, “Tastes good. Like the non-vegan ones.”

“I guess I made a good job then,” Soojin laughs. “But seriously though, Y/N, don’t play coy right now. I saw Namjoon's car on the driveway. Has he signed the papers yet?” she asks.

“Nope.” you respond, emphasizing the ‘p'.

“Is you being here has something to do with him?”

“Kind of.”

You look up to meet her eyes and that’s your first mistake because Soojin has something in them that makes you reveal every secret you hide right on the spot. It has always been like this between the two of you, you coming to your two years younger sister to talk instead the other way round. You still admire it in her, the determination and persistence she has. You were the parent’s favourite child from the very beginning and Soojin knowing that, was determined to do everything they would have never wanted for her. She graduated college with degree in journalism and writes to the local newspaper, at the same time saving money to publish her own novel in the future.

Your parents bitterly accepted it, just like your future career path, but they weren’t going to let her be that easily, arranging a meeting with possible husband-to-be a year after you got married to Namjoon. Little did they know she had been already madly in love with Kim Taehyung, the photographer who she met on an internship. And instead of going on a date with Park's youngest son, she proudly sent your parents a picture of her and Taehyung with a caption ‘sry im taken' like she was responding to some horny man on Instagram.

You never keep anything from her. She was the first person you told you were in love with Namjoon and she was the first one to know you want a divorce.

“It is about the divorce papers, isn’t it? He doesn’t agree to split up? Is he making any difficulties?” Soojin asks question after question, and you shake your head.

“It’s not that. He will sigh them eventually, I know this.”

Your sister purses her lips. “Of course he will because he loves you,” she says matter-of-factly. You bite your lips so hard you might draw blood. “Do you want to know what I really think about this whole situation?” You nod hesitantly. “I think you’re making a big mistake here, sis, divorcing Namjoon. And have in mind that I am the one telling you this.” She points her index finger at herself for emphasis. “When you told me about that I was more confused than anything else because who the fuck would want to divorce someone like Namjoon. I wouldn’t.”

“Me neither!” You hear Taehyung shouting from the living room.

“Shut up, Tae, it’s ladies talk! Don’t listen!” Soojin shouts back. Her boyfriend’s giggle echoes through the house. “Anyway, back to my point. I know it doesn’t always seem like that but I like Namjoon, despite all the banter between the two of us. He’s a good guy and I’m sure he would never hurt you. That’s why it came as a shock to me.”

You don’t even know how to answer her. Because quite literally, you aren’t so determined about your decision anymore, as you had been just weeks ago. You feel like you’re doing the right thing yet at the same time you can’t help but question your motives. You came here for Christmas food, for fuck's sake, and now you’re having a free therapy session with your little sister.

Last months, of course, has been tough. Namjoon's firm had its first crisis since he’s become the CEO. He was spending most of his daytime at work, sometimes he was at the office even during the night hours, and at some point your shared life at home started lacking of intimacy and affection it'd had before. It felt cold to come back to an empty house and it didn’t use to be like that.

At the same time, your own business began blowing out. More and more people were buying clothes from your online shop and you started thinking for real about opening your own atelier in the city. And ironically, your biggest dream, the thing Namjoon had always supported you in, was the cause of your huge argument that lead to the situation you’re currently in.

It was two months ago. You remember your personal assistant Jisoo calling you and rambling incoherently through the phone. You were only able to make out ‘agreed to rent‘ but that was enough information for you. The developer let you make a studio in the place you had chosen, the place you knew was the best destination possible for not huge amount of money. In that moment, you were on cloud nine.

You remember Namjoon coming home late as usual that evening. You had already prepared a celebratory dinner, bought your favourite wine, lighted up some candles to make it even more cheesy but it didn’t matter because you couldn’t even recall when was the last time you both spent your time like this. Alone, all to yourselves.

Hearing the jingle of the keys you rushed to the door, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as he closed them behind himself. He stiffened at your touch but you ignored it, hugging him tightly. Sensing his discomfort, you pulled off, looking at him with a grin plastered on your face.

You were too lost in your own excitement to notice how sad Namjoon looked. “I did it!” you blurted out. “Namjoon, I did it! The developer said yes. I can start arranging my own atelier!”

You saw a faint smile on his lips, however it didn’t reach his eyes at all. He sighed and when he spoke after, his voice sounded weary. “Congratulations.” He wasn’t excited like you. There was no trace of a man in him who told you to go after your dreams no matter what. He’s eyes looked shallow.

Your brows furrowed. You instantly felt irritation bubbling in your throat. “That’s it? You don’t have anything more to say?” you snorted.

‘I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. You look so ecstatic,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm.

At that, Namjoon seemed to have lost his control as well. He bit the inside of his cheek before scoffing, “What do you want me to say, Y/N? Should I dance on the table? Open the door to balcony and shout out my immense happiness to the whole neighborhood?”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “I just expected more support from my own, beloved husband. That’s it.”

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Listen, Y/N. I really don’t want to argue. I had a bad day at work, a whole week actually, and I just want to spend some time alone.” He stormed off the hallway, walking into your shared bedroom.

“Don’t turn your back on me right now, Kim Namjoon!” you shouted after him, entering the room as well. “We aren’t done yet.”

Namjoon practically threw his suitcase on the desk, turning to face you abruptly. “I am done.”

“Everyone has bad days. Me too. You aren’t the only one struggling here, Namjoon. It doesn’t give you the right to act like that.”

Upon hearing that, he chuckled darkly. You saw him gnawing his bottom lip, as if he was debating if he should say what he was going to. “You’re right. Everyone has shitty days. But for your information, mine was the worst since I’ve started running this fucking business. Do you know what happened?” he asked. “Our main investor retreated his shares from the project. Do you have an idea how much is that? 20 fucking percent. That’s a lot of money when there’s a crisis on the stock market and inside the firm as well. So excuse me, Y/N, but I have too much on my own mind to care about your stupid shop.” He slumped down on his chair and rubbed his temples.

You stared at him, trying to fight back the tears trying to spill from your eyes. You didn’t want to break down in front of him. This was your day. You were supposed to celebrate, not cry because your husband acted like an absolute asshole. Yet the tears started rolling down your cheeks involuntarily.

“I’m sorry.” you uttered, exiting the room.

Namjoon looked up, catching the glimpse of your expression and that was the moment he realised his mistake. He stood up and ran after you. “Y/N, wait! I didn’t mean it like that, shit!”

You stopped in your tracks to face him. You were fully crying right now and something in Namjoon's chest tightened at the sight. “Don’t say anything, Namjoon. I get it. Your business is more important than my stupid shop. It’s fine, really.” You sniffed, wiping the smudges of mascara underneath your eyes.

Namjoon put his hand on your arm but when he saw you flinch, he withdrew. “Of course you are important, baby.” he said quietly and another fresh wave of tears streamed down your face when you heard him use his favorite term of endearment for you.

“But it doesn’t look like I am anymore, Namjoon. And that’s the problem.” you uttered brokenly. “I think we should take a break from each other. It’s not healthly for us being together now.”

Namjoon looked anywhere but at you. “If that’s what you want.”

You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

The break lasted two weeks. You spent some time at Soojin's, travelled to Japan. And when you came back you home you bitterly realised nothing really had changed. Namjoon picked you up at the airport, took you for dinner to your favourite restaurant and back home fucked you so hard and unforgiving you couldn’t remember your own name anymore. He said he missed you and counted days to your arrival. Missed your face, your voice, your pussy wrapped around his cock. You climaxed with his name on your lips and with a promise for a new tomorrow that eventually didn’t come because the reality kicked in sooner than you had expected.

“Don’t you think it was a little bit impulsive of you to file for divorce?” Soojin asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. And you hate your little sister so much because she might be right. You’re definitely far from being all-out and determined about everything. “You know I will be always by your side, Y/N. It’s only your decision to make.” she adds after a moment, reaching to squeeze your hand.

“I know,” you sigh, reciprocating the gesture. “That’s why I need you to do me a favor.”

“I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath before explaining your initial motives. “First of all, I won’t be at your Christmas dinner. Stop glaring at me like that!” you wail, seeing her expression.

“Babe, do you know where–” Taehyung starts, entering the kitchen but he’s quickly cut off by his girlfriend.

“She won’t be at the dinner!” Soojin points her finger at you accusingly while Taehyung tries to hide his amused smile. He probably has overheard your hushed whispers even though Soojin had asked him not to.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want Namjoon to spend Christmas alone since he’s mother is on Maldives.” you answer.

Taehyung hums. “Fancy.”

“So you’re spending Chrismtas with Namjoon, right?” Soojin quips, making you nod.

“I am. And that’s why I want to ask if you might share some of your food with me?” you hesitantly wonder and Soojin raises her eyebrows. “We are going to our parents’ cottage and we don’t have time to cook for ourselves.” you explain. She eyes you carefully and you know it’s seconds till she softens. “Please?”

Taehyung nudges her side. “Come on, babe. Let them eat something delicious before they eventually fuck as a final goodbye.”

“Taehyung, that’s not funny!” Soojin protests but her boyfriend only giggles in response. There’s a small smile dancing on your lips and when she locks her eyes with you, she reciprocates it. “Okay, fine. What do you need?”

“What do you have?” you ask.

Soojin gestures for you to come closer to the kitchen counter and opens the fridge. ‘”I've already made bulgogi for Taehyung’s parents so I can give some of it to you. I also cooked kimchi and sweet potatoes. Oh, and those vegan cinnamon rolls. I will pack you a few.” she lists, while taking out the clean food containers from the cupboard.

“Thank you so much.” you breathe out.

“No big deal,” Taehyung assures, sending you a wink. “Although I’m a little bit sad you won’t come for the dinner. Maybe you should just take Namjoon here.” he suggests.

You shake your head. “No, we should spend some time alone, talk through some things and… stuff.” you trail off.

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “And stuff,”

“Jesus Christ, Taehyung, let them be!” Soojin grumbles, packing the last container into a paper bag and handing it to you. “You owe me something huge for this.” she mumbles but you know she’s just bickering with you. Taehyung hugs her waist tightly from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder and you can help but coo at them.

“Once again, thank you for saving my ass. I gotta go now. Namjoon's waiting.” you say.

“I will walk you to the door,” Soojin proposes, unwrapping herself from Taehyung's arms.

“Bye, Taehyung. Merry Christmas!” You wave at him.

“Bye, Y/N, Merry Christmas! Say hi from me to Namjoon. Oh, and remember: use protect–ouch!” His words die on his tongue when he’s effectively nudged into his stomach with Soojin's elbow.

Giggling under your breath, you shuffle into the hallway. You could sense your sister's eyes on your back while you’re putting on your coat and the moment you turn around, you find her staring at you with puzzled expression.

She sighs before saying, “Y/N, you’re my sister and you know I want the best for you and I will always support your decisions–don’t roll your eyes! I’m having an emotional speech right now,” she huffs, coming up to give you an affectionate hug. “Just please, promise me you won’t do anything reckless or stupid.” she mumbles into the material of your coat.

You shut your eyes tightly. “I promise.”

Soojin clears her throat and pulls away. She looks like she wants to say something more but chooses not to. You’re thankful for that. “Bye, big sis.” she says.

You smile. “Bye, kid.”

You make your way to the car quickly, apologies already on your tongue when you shut the door behind you. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he assures. “How did Soojin's interrogation go?”

“Surprisingly smoothly,” you answer. Smooth is an exaggeration here. It was bumby, with a lot of twists and turns but you made it through with even more conflicted mind and a bag full of food. “She gave me bulgogi.” you add, knowing pretty well what kind of reaction would it elite in Namjoon.

“God, please don’t say things like that. We still have some time before the dinner and I’m already salivating.”

“Let’s go then.”

It’s been quite some time since you’ve been in your parents' holiday cottage.

You didn’t have time to visist it during summer since you were too busy with setting up your own showroom in Seoul and Namjoon… Namjoon was always too caught up in work to have a free weekend. So the last time you’ve had a chance to spend time in their cottage was almost one year ago, in January, on your dad's 52th birthday.

The road to the cottage takes about thirty minutes from the city. It’s situated near the small lake, hidden in a valley surrounded by forests from every side. You’ve always found the place charming and beautiful, ever since you were little with Soojin, when your parents decided to buy land there and built a small house on it.

Your parents visist the cottage regularly, checking out and looking after everything. You had your eighteenth birthday party there. And your bachelorette night was also held there.

You’re halfway through the distance when Namjoon decides to play some music.

He turns on the radio connected to his spotify account and puts it on shuffle. When the first tunes of the song start playing, your face instantly flushes in pink.

It’s one of the songs you both included in your ‘sexy times' playlist as you jockingly named it back then when you lived in Namjoon's old apartment with walls too thin to properly mute the sounds of your moans and whimpers of pleasure which were by any means subtle while Namjoon was having his way with you during late hours of the night.

In the corner of your eye you see that Namjoon is as flustered as you are, quickly reaching to change the song but you stop him. “Don't!” He falters. Fucking hell, why did you say it so abruptly? Your blush deepens. “Leave it, please.” So he does.

It’s a sensual melody, one of your favorite songs in general but you’ve never actually played it for yourself since you moved out from that apartment. It brings too many memories because if anything, sex with Namjoon has never been unsatisfactory and plain vanilla. He’s never left you unsatiate and thinking about those lustful moments makes you squirm in your seat, familiar butterflies flattering in your lower stomach.

And from the clench of Namjoon's jaw and his tight grip on a steering wheel, you know he thinks about the same things as you do.

You wonder what flashes behind his eyelids now, because for you, it’s always him hovering above you, chest sweaty and heaving with every ragged breath he takes as he fucks you deep and with purpose. He’s rough but you like him that way, when he loses himself in you. It’s his hand on your throat, on your hips, bruising as he takes you from behind; marred in red skin on your asscheeks when you haven’t been behaving good enough.

It’s him between your thighs, lavishing your cunt with his tongue until you're writhing and begging him to stop but he never listens, bringing you to immense ecstasy until tears well in your eyes and your voice is hoarse from screaming.

It’s his hushed whispers in your ears leaving you bothered and breathless when you’re on some public event together, flithly promises he’s going to fulfill once you're home because the waiter was too flirty and you smiled at him too courteously.

It’s him standing above you, pulling the belt from the loops until it lands on the floor along with his pants and you on your knees, taking his cock in your mouth to please him the best you could. It’s his fingers tangled in your hair, praising words on his lips because you’re such a good girl, always so good for me.

It’s Namjoon and his hands placed securely on your waist, chest flushed to your back when he spoons your spent body after another round of love making. It’s his soothing and calming voice in your ears when you drift off to sleep with his love confessions and gentle touches on your bare skin.

It’s him and you’re scared it will always be only him. The song changes into another and you hope he doesn’t hear the shaky breath you let out. You don't say anything else for the rest of the ride.

“And here we are.”

A thirty minutes long ride has never been more drawn-out than now. Exiting the car, you promise yourself you’re gonna do everything in your power to make this twenty-four hours bearable and not as awkward as your drive here was.

Once the car is parked, Namjoon opens the trunk and takes out your bags from it along with the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You scurry to help him but he sends you back with a small smile. “It’s okay. Go and open the door, I’ll get this.”

Inside the cottage you’re immediately met with chilly air so the first thing you do after putting Christmas food from Soojin on the kitchen counter is taking care of the fireplace. It’s a new addition to the living room's design, your parents new investment in biofuel energy, or something.

Glancing through the window, you see Namjoon carrying the Christmas tree into the house and soon it’s standing right in the middle of the room in its full glory.

Namjoon claps his hands. “Let’s do it, shall we?” he asks, reaching to the cardboard box and pulling out the first item that caught his attention: a golden, glass bauble. But before he could hang it on the tree, it slips from his hands and lands on the floor, shattered into pieces.

“Shit,” Namjoon mutters, crunching down to pick up the mess he’s made.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourself!”

He stops abruptly and you can clearly distinguish the redness on his cheeks. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” he says sheepishly.

“We should start with the lights,” You take them out from the box and start to untangle. “Okay?”

There’s a small smile on Namjoon lips when he nods his head and helps you put them on the tree. Half an hour later, your collaborative job on decorating the Christmas tree is almost done. The final touch is the golden star you’re trying to attach to the tip without success, until you feel a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and lifting you up.

You let out a surprised squeak at that, putting the star quickly on it’s right place. Once your feet touch the floor, you turn around just to be met with Namjoon smiling down at you softly. “Good job,” he comments, pointing at the tree. If he sees your flustered state, he doesn’t let you feel it. “We should prepare for the dinner. It’s getting late.” he adds and before you could say anything else, he exits the room and disappears in the hallway.

“Y/N?” Namjoon calls out, entering the kitchen. You whip your head to look at him and can’t help but stare. He’s wearing a plain, blue button-up shirt which sleeves are rolled up and revealing his forearms. He must have taken a shower because his honey blond hair still looks a little bit damp at the roots and when he comes closer to you, you feel the unmistakable musk of his cologne. It’s still the same one he uses after you bought him it some time ago.

“Yes?”

You’re dressed in red just like you were three years ago when you first met in that damned ballroom and it’s really ironic, he thinks. Your probably last civilised meeting being like this, a celebratory Christmas dinner made by your sister in a holiday cottage away from the town.

Whatever he wanted to ask you dies on his tongue the moment he hears your phone buzzing on the counter, your mum's contact number popping up on the screen.

You exhale loudly. “God have mercy,” you mutter, picking up the phone. “Yes, mom?” you say and instantly roll your eyes at the sound of your mother’s rambling from the othe side. We'll talk later, you mouth to him, leaving the kitchen.

Namjoon curses under his breath and against every fiber of his being, he takes a few step closer to where you stand in the hallway, staring out of the window, back facing him.

“No, mom, I’m not at Soojin's,” you say to the phone. “I’m with Namjoon. We are having a Christmas dinner at your cottage.”

You’re silent for a moment, listening to whatever your mum is telling you but Namjoon, even in the dim lighting illuminating from the living room could see you’re tense.

“On Maldives,” you answer. She has probably asked you about his mother, as he supposes. “Mom, I told you to stop asking me this. It’s not your decision to make.”

You take a deep breath before adding, “It’s Christmas. I don’t want to talk about this right now, please.” He knows what you mean by ‘this’. He doesn’t want to think about what future is going to bring either.

Your mother can be too much sometimes and he knows it. He’s stood up and defended you in front of her more than once. Responded cleverly and calmly to her every question about kids. And when she met him for a coffee to talk about the divorce, he simply said he didn’t plan to get you in the way, which probably wasn’t the answer she’d wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Love you. Tell dad I love him too. Bye.”

You hung up with a sigh.

Namjoon quickly shuffles to the living room, fishing out his phone and pretending he’s been scrolling through it the whole time. When you enter the room, he’s eyes look up at you.

“How was it?” he asks matter-of-factly.

“You know how my mother is sometimes,” you trail off.

“Yeah,” Namjoon nods. ‘’Too much.”

You smile and Namjoon could actually seen in you right now the girl he’s fallen in love with three years ago. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall and say, “I think we can begin.”

“Do the honors.”

The dinner has gone by smoothly. You felt normal, like nothing ever happened and you start wondering if Namjoon isn’t doing all of this just for old times sake. He can’t be, another voice in your head is saying, he isn’t doing anything extraordinary for him: he’s just him, the same guy who proposed to you with plastic ring and quit his beloved addiction so you could agree to marrying him.

You’re sitting on a couch right now, your favourite Christmas movie (it’s Holiday; your love for Jude Law has never died down since you were a teenager) playing in the background. It was your silly tradition, to watch them every year like those basic couples do. You both know by heart the ‘to me you’re perfect' scene from Love Actually and it never fails to make you laugh when Namjoon recites the lines so dramatically.

You’re sitting so close to him you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, your shoulders brushing with every breath or chuckle he lets out and you find yourself wanting to lean into him more. You wish he wrapped his arm around you, pulled you closer, kissed you on the temple and assured everything would be perfectly fine. But it isn’t.

Nicole Kidman has already landed in Los Angeles when you feel Namjoon shifting next you. He takes something out of his pants' pocket, nudging your side in process so you peek at him. You know he wants to say something but doesn’t have an idea how to start, you’ve been with him too long not to recognize the way he wets his lips and rubs his hands on his thighs as the sign of his nervousness. Which makes you jittery as well.

When he finally decides to shoot, Cameron Diaz meets drunk Jude Law for the first time.

“Y/N?” he says to get your attention because he doesn’t know you’ve been more than aware this whole time.

“Yes?”

You’re breathless and you don’t even know why. It’s Namjoon, for God’s sake, your own husband, who won’t be one soon, the voice in your head adds.

“I know we agreed on not giving gifts to each other for Christmas but this isn’t actually a gift. I mean… It was a gift once but now it kinda isn’t so technically I’m not breaking an agreement,” He's rumbling. A sight he’s definitely on edge.

Before you could stop yourself, you place your hand on his thigh. It’s a gentle manner, an affectionate touch meant to soothe his nerves. He raises his eyebrows at that, staring at your hand absentmindedly tracking patterns on his leg. You withdraw your hand awkwardly.

Your gaze lands on Namjoon's palm. He’s clutching something in his fist. With a deep exhale he opens it and then you see it: the charm you lost some time ago and haven’t found till now.

It’s a simple, cheesy infinity sign, a gift from him to you. He decided to give it to you this when he saw the bracelet on your wrist and ask you what’s the story behind it, so you told him. Your parents gifted the piece of jewelry to you on your 18th birthday. Then they, including Soojin, bought you charms to complete it. A clover from your dad, a heart from your mum and a star from your sister. And a few days after you shared this with Namjoon, the infinity sign has found its place on the bracelet.

One day you realised the piece he gave you is missing. You searched through the whole house but you couldn’t find it. Ironically, everything seemed to crumble down from the moment you had lost it. And here it lies now, on Namjoon's open palm.

“Cleaning lady found it in my office. It was underneath my desk.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you blurt out.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. You can wear it or not, I just wanted you to have it back.”

He lays the charm on your palm and for a brief moment you hesitate before asking him, “Can you–?” gesturing to your wrist.

“Sure.”

He attaches the piece to your bracelet in it’s former, rightful place and there’s a soft smile dancing on his lips. It’s laced with melancholy, making your insides clench uncomfortably. On the screen Graham and Amanda make out and you know there’s something heavy in the air, unspoken words and conversation you should hold but don’t know how to start.

It’s Namjoon who takes the mattress into his own hands this time.

“Do you think we could be friends after all of this will be done?”

The question surprises you. You don’t have a clever answer for that because the future is always uncertain. You don’t even know if you’re making a right decision. You just believe you do.

Maybe joking isn’t the best thing to do now but it’s your shitty defence mechanism against facing the true. You decide to play it cool. “I don’t know about us but I’m sure my dad won’t stop inviting you to play chess with him.” You chuckle.

It doesn’t seem to amuse Namjoon much, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You clear your throat, avoiding his persistent gaze. That certainly hasn’t been a good thing to say to ease the tension.

“Your mum insisted me for a coffee two weeks ago. To talk.” he says suddenly.

You purse your lips. “What did you talk about?”

“About us. About the divorce,” The movie is playing in the background but you don’t pay attention to it anymore. What’s the most crucial is right here in front of you, in the person of your future ex husband. “She asked me to convince you not to do it. Said you’re irrational and mentioned something about you always making important decisions hastily.”

You roll your eyes. This is so typical of your mother to say something like that. “And what did you say to her?” you ask, afraid of his answer.

“That it’s only your choice to make and I’m not going to stop you if that’s what you want.”

Your breath hitches. Some part of you really wants him to put up a fight. You spent countless hours wondering why isn’t he doing that until it finally hits you like a whiplash: Namjoon has never, ever in his life disrespected your decision. He might not be on the same page as you but he will never beg you to change your mind. That’s his manifest of the love he has for you.

“Namjoon–” you begin but you don’t even know what you’re going to say to that. Fortunately, he cuts you off.

“Don’t pity me right now, Y/N. Let me talk, please.” He's never addressed the divorce directly and even if you’ve been dying these past weeks to find out what’s on his mind, right now, sitting in front of him when you’re both vulnerable, you aren’t sure of anything. “When I read that papers for the first time I thought it's some kind of a cruel joke, you know? But then the seriousness of this hit me and I was like: fuck, it’s really happening, isn’t it?” he says, chuckling bitterly to himself. “I knew it was bad but I hoped that we could figure it out together somehow and the sun will rise again as it always does after the storm. But I guess I was wrong.”

He pauses and you looks down at his hands. They’re shaking and you fight an urge to take them into yours. “So at first, I was mad at you. I was so, so angry I couldn’t even think straight and I started blaming you for this. I bought a pack of cigarettes and lighted up one but I never finished it. I threw the whole pack into the trash can.” He lets out a long sigh. You’re feeling like the whole air has been sucked out of this room, your heart racing with anticipation of his next words.

“A part of me wanted to pick the sword and fight. But then, one night a few days after I read the papers, I was in my office. I sat there staring at the wall and thinking through everything. And that was when I decided it’s all my fault we are in this kind of situation. You laid it all in front me and I still couldn’t fucking believe I am the problem.”

You’re shaking your head because no, it’s not like this, it isn’t only his doing, but he doesn’t let you speak. “You’re so special, Y/N. You make the world revolve around you. I envy you,” Namjoon says, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “You’re pursuing your dreams and you managed to do all of this on your own. There was no family business you were destined to run like I am. All I do is sit in my father’s chair and try not to fuck up everything he’s built so far. And you, Y/N,” He faces you fully, staring at you with so much love and adoration you want to look away. But you can’t. “You’re so much more than this. And now I know I was just holding you back. But I love you enough to let you go.”

You’re loss for words. Before Namjoon could register what is happening, your hands are on his cheeks and you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him until you lose you breath, until you both can’t think straight and you’re drinking from each other’s mouths like you’ve been thristing for it for years. Namjoon tastes like the red wine you drank earlier and something only akin to him.

He’s surprised at first, not really comprehending it’s your mouth slotted over his, your breath mingling with his. It takes a sharp intake of air from you to him to sprang into action. He kisses you fiercely, like he’s been dying and your lips where the only cure which could heal him. He sighs into your mouth like he’s finally feeling relieved. Like you’re his savior.

When his hands find purchase on your waist, you feel like you’re grounded after floating in the air for so long. Kissing Namjoon feels like home and you’re scared you will never going to experience this kind of halcyon ever again.

It’s Namjoon who breaks off the kiss first. He’s breathless, panting against your swollen lips and his eyes are shimmering. “God, Y/N,” He sounds pained, like he’s holding onto the last straw of his sanity. ‘’Please, let me have you one last time. I need you so bad, baby.”

He never begs but here he is, shaking and vulnerable, with his hands gripping you so tightly like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear the second he’ll let go. You’re nodding frantically at his words and he dives for your lips again. He doesn’t ask you to use your words like he usually does when you’re both in the mood to play. It’s raw and pure passion when he opens the seam of your mouth with his tongue, when he urges your body to lay back on the couch so he could hover over you.

It’s been long, too long, since he’s seen you like this; keening when his teeth graze your throat and whimpering when he sucks the skin in between harshly and you know it’ll blossom rich red the next morning.

Your hands move on their own accord, reaching to fumble with the buttons of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin underneath your fingertips. When the garment pops open you can’t help but run your palms over smooth expanses of Namjoon's chest, digging into every ridge and deep of the flesh so you feel him tense under your touch.

He detaches himself from your neck and takes off the shirt, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Sitting on his knees and straddling your waist, he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Take of your dress,” he commands and you hurry to obey him. You missed this side of him, his deep voice that never fails to make you squirm in pleasure and anticipation of his next move.

You get up from the couch, pulling the zipper of your dress down and letting the material fall to the floor with light thud. You don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, standing in front of Namjoon only in your linegerie. He’s seen you exposed like this many times before yet something about the way his eyes roam your body makes you bite your lip. It’s an expensive set and you’re suddenly aware he was the one who had bought you it. You wonder if he remembers that.

He gestures for you to come closer and with an unexpected boost of confidence you step out of the dress pooled around your ankles and move to straddle his lap. His hands immadietly find purchase on your waist and you wrap yours around his neck, leaning to kiss him.

He groans when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you feel him squeezing your sides tightly. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your mouth, making the corners of your lips lift up in a smile. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

Something swells in your lower regions at that. A sheer want and crimson desire for him to claim you as his for the one last time.

Namjoon reaches to unclasp your bra but he stops with his fingers brushing just underneath the material. “Can I?” he asks gently. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, how many times he's brought you to the brick of pleasure until you were screaming, he’s always waiting for you to grant him consent first.

“Yes.” It’s the confirmation he needs to unclasp it, letting the straps fall to your shoulders and free your breasts to his wandering hands.

One of the things you’ve learnt about Namjoon during years of sleeping with him is that he’s boobs man. So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when his palms engulf your mounds, squeezing them gently.

Soon he’s leaning closer, taking one of your nipples into the hot crevice of his mouth and bitting down on it so you let out a small noise of content. The angle is awkward but he doesn’t seem to care, sucking the hardened bud until you’re writhing in his lap, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging slightly on the roots.

“Namjoon, please,” you whimper, feeling his fingers brushing the waistband of your panties. You’re rubbing yourself against the bulge that has formed in his pants, needing more, always more of him because you know he’s up to please.

He pulls out from your nipple with light pop sound. “What do you want, baby?” he prompts; the chilly air in the room washes over your bare body and you shudder from the sensation, your core getting wetter with each passing second.

“Want you to touch me.”

“Yeah? Want me to touch your pretty pussy with my fingers?”

You nod, shutting your eyes tightly when his palms find the inside of your thighs where you need him the most, where you’re throbbing with the desire for him to touch you.

He runs his index finger through the material of your underwear where you’re sure a wet spot has formed already. “Answer me,” Namjoon demands and his other hand squeezes your hip harder. There’s a part of you wanting to play with him a little, push his strings to the point he has no choice but put you in your place, bend carelessly over his lap and make you count till he forgives.

But today, it’s not time for that.

You whimper. It’s actually funny how single touch of his combined with his autorative tone can make such a mess of you in span of minutes. “Joon, please,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. ‘’Touch me with your fingers.”

Namjoon smirks in response. “Open your legs wider for me, baby.” You do as you’re told, exposing yourself to him. He hums, pulling the material of your panties to the side. “Fuck, you’re dripping. Is this all for me?” A part of him is disgusted for wanting you to know he’s the only one who can make you like this. It’s ugly possessiveness but he needs you to say it. Needs you to admit it.

“All for you. Always for you, Joon–please,” It’s a breathless plea on your lips that makes him dig his fingers into your wetness. He runs his long digits through your slick folds, thumb circling your clit and you mewl, biting your lip in favor to contain yourself from moaning shamelessly aloud so soon. Namjoon however doesn’t like that idea.

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”

His middle finger prods at your entrance and you gasp when he pushes it inside, immediately adding second to the mix and curling them up just right, making your walls clench around them. His thumb still abuses your sensitive nub and you’re whimpering incoherently as he toys with your pussy with practiced ease.

You open your eyes to look at him but his sight is solemnly focused on the way his fingers are sinking into your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to edge until you are actually feeling the coil in your lower stomach tightening. But when you’re about to cry out in pleasure, it all stops abruptly.

Namjoon withdraws his hand from your pussy, placing a small kiss on your pouty mouth briefly, as if he’s apologizing for you denied release. You watch him bring his fingers to his pillowy lips, groaning as his tongue tastes your juices.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, baby. Wanna taste your pretty pussy.”

Your face grows hot at his dirty words. Namjoon's filthy mouth is something that never has never failed to turn you on. He knows what to say to get you going, to make a shiver run down your spine and insides tighten.

He mannevrous your body so you’re laying back on the couch again with him hovering above you. He takes off your soiled panties and tosses it on the floor.

“Spread your legs.”

You oblige, revealing your dripping center to his hungry eyes. You don’t even have time to shy away from his intense stare because he wastes no time and dives in, lowering himself to bury his head between your thighs. He licks the first strip up your folds and locks his clouded in lust eyes with you. You almost come right there on the spot just from the sight of his plush lips covered in your slick.

He eats you out like a man starved, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth obscenely loud, making you moan out in pleasure. You aren’t even holding back now, lifting your hips to chase your high but he effectively pins you down in place with his palms sprawled on your hips.

He laps up your slit, tongue dipping briefly inside your hole and causing more of your wetness to gush out. “Fuck, I could eat you out all day. You taste so good, baby.” he groans, sinking two of his digits into you until he’s knuckle-deep, hitting your sweet spot with every scissoring movement of his fingers.

You cry out, lacing your fingers through his locks and tugging harsher than you’ve anticipated when his tongue flicks your clit. “Joon, fuck–please, wanna cum.” He starts pounding his fingers lewdly into you faster at that, dragging it through your velvet folds until you're writhing. “Oh, God. P-please.”

“You’re so perfect, baby. Such a good girl. Let go for me.” he murmurs against your pussy, pushing you into your upcoming release.

Your vision blurr and you’re coming undone on his fingers and tongue, breathing heavily. Namjoon doesn’t stop though. He wraps his lips around your abused clit again, lapping your wetness greedily until you’re shaking from oversensitivity.

“N-namjoon–stop, I can’t,” you whine, shaking your head. Tears well in your eyes, hands fisting by your sides.

But Namjoon's doesn’t listen to your pleading cries. He’s ravenous and loves seeing you desperate like this more than anything. “Give me another one, baby. I know you can,” he breaths out. “Show me this pussy belongs to me.”

His onslaught on your cunt and crude words push you over the edge for the second time and you’re spilling all over his mouth again, screaming out his name.

He waits for you to calm down from your high, rubbing soothing circles on your sides. When you finally open your eyes, you see him smiling down at you, lips and chin covered in your juices he messily wipes with the back of his hand. He leans to kiss you, tongue lacing with yours until you’re tasting yourself on it. He swallows your moans, reaching to fumble with his belt buckle.

Pulling back from the kiss, he stands up to discard the rest of his clothes on the floor. You can see him in his full glory now. You take him in, from his neck and collarbones, through the taunt muscles of his abdomen and prominent v line to the trimmed hairline where you see his cock, hard and leaking precum against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight.

He crawls over you, pumping himself as his eyes roam your nude, pliable body. Your hand stretches to replace his with your own and he lets you do it. Smearing his creamy release all over his length, you keep stroking him like this. Namjoon groans at that, throwing his head back.

You sit up on your knees but before you could take him into your mouth, he stops you. “As much as I want to see you with my cock in your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you now.” Buds of sweat dribble down his forehead and you know he’s holding himself back from flipping you on your stomach and fucking you into next week.

You scoot back and lay yourself, watching as he runs the tip of his dick through your dripping slit. He hisses at the sensation, looking up at you, pupils blown out with lust. “Beg for it, Y/N,” he says, voice deepening. “I want to hear you begging for my cock.”

“Please, Joon,” you mewl, moaning when his tip taps your clit.

He doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer, biting the inside of his cheek. “Please, what?” He leans closer, until his forehead is touching yours. “Say it.” he demands.

“Please, fuck me,” Your palms cup his cheeks, breath fanning over his parted mouth. It’s pure desire mixed with desperation when you utter your next words. “Fuck me so hard I can’t think straight, make me forget all of this. Please, Namjoon.”

He doesn’t need to hear anything more. He pushes himself inside you until he’s buried to the brim; your warm, wet walls letting him slide into you easily. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut.

“Shit,” Namjoon curses, closing his eyes as well. His face confronts in both pleasure in pain and you know he’s trying hard no to pound into you. He waits few bits of ragged breaths for you to adjust and starts moving. The first drag of his cock through your walls sends you into frenzy and you moan wantonly when he hits you right there when you want him the most. “You’re so tight, baby. So good, just for me, yeah?” he slurs, picking up his pace.

You nod, lips choking out, “Just for you.” and eyes rolling back in pleasure.

He groans at your words, hands fighting purchase on either sides of your head. You feel so fucking full, his cock plunging into you faster and faster with each passing second. His eyes dip down where his body ends and yours begin, watching himself disappear into your cunt.

“God, I’m gonna miss this so fucking much,” he blurts out before he could stop himself, in a moment of careless ecstasy he’s delivering to the both of you. It slips from his lips roughly and hits you right in the guts but you can’t let yourself dwell in this. Not now.

Now it’s just you and him fucking you into oblivion you’re oh so much craving.

His face falls to the crook of your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch of skin he could find as if he’s trying to embed his mark on you forever. Like he foolishly thinks you’ll stay his and only his after all of this will be done.

Namjoon speeds up, thrusting his dick into you in what seems as an animalistic pace now, hammering into your sweet spot with every slam of his hips, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. He lift up his head to stare at your face.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, engulfing your cheek in his palm. His thumb traces your bottom lip, your eyes snapping open at his command. Your tongue laps at his finger until he pushes it inside your mouth, groaning when he feels you sucking on it. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, so hot–fuck. You take me so well.” he nothing but growls, sliding his hand from your face down your body, until it reaches the apex of your thighs.

Fingers finding your clit, he smirks when he hears you moan his name. “You like that?” he asks, voice sounding almost mocking but you’re keening, nodding frantically. “Want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, yes! P-please, Joonie,”

“I got you, baby. Come for me.”

You’re orgasming the third time this night, even harder than before, clutching onto his arms like they’re your lifeline. He fucks you through this, pushing you past the uncomfortable oversensitivity. You feel his hips loosening their rhythm, thrusting into you sloppily and chasing his own high.

He drops his forehead onto yours, lips hovering inches from kissing yours. “I love you so fucking much,” he chockes out and you feel something wet staining your cheek. Looking up, you find him staring at you with the same kind of fondness he’s been giving you during these past years. It’s Namjoon, your Namjoon who’s never disrespected your choice, who always gives you the part of himself he’s afraid to show to the whole world.

Before you could register what’s happening, you’re sobbing into his mouth, “I love you too,” and kissing him to the point you’re both breathless. You feel his dick twitch and then he’s spilling inside you, coating your walls with his seed in white.

You stay like that for a while, basking in post-orgasmic bliss. You’re rubbing soothing touches on Namjoon's back till he eventually pulls out from you. His cum dribbles down your thighs and you wince when you feel him cleaning you up with your ruined panties. Then, Namjoon puts on his boxers and helps you wear his dress shirt and button it up.

He picks you up from the couch without a word and carries to the bedroom. He lays you down onto the mattress, taking his place behind you. He throws the comforter over your bare bodies, snuggling closer to your back. You feel his breath on your neck, warm and comforting.

He places a small kiss on your shoulder and exhales shakily. “You’re the best thing that have ever happened to me, Y/N,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

You don’t answer him because you’re afraid of what you might say. Your throat constricts and tears involuntarily spill from your eyes, coating your cheeks in wetness. Namjoon's arm tightens around you and for the first time since you’ve given him those damned papers, he’s laying next to you like this, chest pressed flush to your back.

When his breath slows down after a while, you let yourself cry to sleep. You dream about a boy smoking a cigarette on a bench in front of an old manor.

It’s the sunshine who wakes you up the next morning.

The first thing you think about his that someone has seemed to forget to shut the curtains out for the night. It’s definitely too bright for your liking so you narrow your eyes as soon as they're met with the light. Blinking heavily, you realise where exactly are you. You don't remember you walls being wooden. It’s not your apartment. Which means you're in one of the many rooms in your parents' holiday cottage.

Turning away from the window, you’re faced with Namjoon's bare back. He always sleeps without his shirt on, no matter how cold sometimes it can be. He’s like a human equivalent of a heater. You observe the steady rise and fall of his body and listen to his quiet snoring. It’s something comforting in this and you find yourself seeking his warmth. You shuffle closer to him but then you stop abruptly.

It all hits you like a tsunami.

The dinner, your talk about the divorce, heated confessions and whispered I love yous with tear strained cheeks. His body against yours as he fucked you hard and unforgiving. It was silly for you to let yourself indulge but you couldn’t help but grant his one last wish. His arms around you when you were drifting off to sleep, his pained voice when he was murming sweet nothings to your ears.

And now he’s right next to you, as he’s been there forever, deep in unaware slumber where the reality of your life is nonexistent. You’re wondering what he dreams about.

Suddenly you’re brought back in time to one morning three years ago when you were still newlyweds, still trying to get used to being tied together for life. It was one of your last mornings in Namjoon’s old apartment. After a round of passionate love making, both of you laid in each other's arms on the bed. Young, foolish and so in love you’ve never wanted to leave the embrace of his firm and protective hold on your body.

“Can I ask you something?”

Namjoon hummed hearing your voice, fingers brushing your shoulders with absentminded, affectionate manner and pressing into tight knots from time to time, easing the tension.

You took a deep breath, your digits playing with your wedding ring underneath the sheets. “How do you think our first big argument will look like?” you asked.

You felt Namjoon's body shaking with laughter as he hide his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. “Why are you even asking me this? Do you want me to get mad at you? Do I have a reason?” There was a slight teasing lilt to his voice and you knew he was smirking.

“Namjoon,” you whined.

“I know I have to put the dishes into the dishwasher after using them. And I swear I’m not going to use your hair conditioner ag–‘’

“Joon, I’m serious.” you huffed and he stopped because of the seriousness of your voice.

“Okay, okay. Go on, elaborate on that.”

You sighed, scrunching your eyebrows. You didn’t even know how to vocalize your thoughts. A part of you was aware how irrational and probably ridiculous you sounded but it was Namjoon. He was the closest person to you. He would never judge you and always listen to what you wanted to say.

“You know, recently I read those statistics about people under twenty five getting married…”

“Oh, God, Y/N. I’m someone who deals with statistics on daily basis. How many times do I have to remind you they’re not always relevant?” Namjoon interrupted.

You elbowed his side. “Let me finish!” you pouted, earning a kiss on your crown in response and muffled ‘sorry, babe’. “Basically they say the younger you get married, the possibility of having a divorce is higher.” you explained.

“So you’re trying to say that we fit in those statistics?”

“I didn’t mean that!” you protested. It wasn’t the case. This stupid article was just a something that made you start wondering. “It’s just… I’m scared, Joon. Of our future, what it will bring to us. We got married so early and I know the first crisis will come to us eventually but what will we do then?” you asked, voice quivery.

Namjoon was silent for a moment, until he spoke again. “Are you asking me what would I do if we got into an argument?”

You nodded shyly.

Namjoon squeezed your hand as he was saying with it he was here to hold onto when you needed him. “It’s okay if you’re scared, baby. I am too. But I can assure you that no matter what happens between us, I will do everything in my power to fix that,” he said. “I love you, Y/N. Back then in that ballroom when we first met I knew you were going be my wife one day. And I promised myself that if I ever felt like I was hurting you, I would let you go and be free.”

You pouted. “I don’t wanna lose you, dummy. Stop saying you will hurt me!”

He chuckled. “There are always good and bad days when you’re in love with someone. But they say the sun will rise again even after the biggest storm, right? If you love someone enough, you will overcome all those crisis you were talking about. And change the statistics. ” he said, making you chuckle at his last remark. “I can’t ask you to never leave me but promise me you will always do whatever makes you happy. Okay?”

He lifted his pinky finger and you brought yours, linking them together in a cute, silly manner. “I promise.” you murmured.

Now, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling, you realise how wrong you were this whole time.

It’s Namjoon who’s making you happy. You can’t let your first, big crisis take him away from you because he thinks you’ll be better without him. Fuck the statistics, fuck everything honestly. You’re having the world by your feet when he’s with you, and you’re not going to give up on that so easily.

He is your first love and you’re not letting him leave you so easily.

Standing on wobbly legs from the bed, you make your way to the kitchen. You have a plan in your head and you hopefully will manage to succeed.

You stop in your tracks by the mirror hanging on the wall, staring at your reflection. You definitely like you’ve had a rough night. There are smudges of mascara underneath your eyes because you haven’t removed your makeup before going to sleep and your hair’s a mess. There are splotches of red and violet covering the skin of your neck and cleavage and you’re more than aware now that Namjoon's shirt you’re wearing isn’t buttoned properly.

After washing your face in the bathroom, you enter the kitchen. You pull out from the fridge all the groceries you bought yesterday with Namjoon with purpose to make a breakfast the next day after Chrimstas Eve and start cooking.

You’re going to make your husband's favourite French toast.

Both of you have never been master chefs at cooking, in most cases choosing to eat out in the city or simply order something for dinner but breakfasts have always been something you are celebrating together in your house. And you can proudly admit you’re better than making them than your dear husband.

However, stress is a factor that makes you feel paralyzed in various kinds of situations so before you could blink an eye, you’re smelling something burning. You jump in horror, dropping the teaspoon on to the floor with loud clicking sound. There it is, Namjoon's French toast laying on your pan utterly inedible.

“Fuck!” you curse, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island and burying your face in hands.

Tears well in your eyes. For once you’ve wanted to do something right and here you are, crying over burnt toast because you have no time to make another one and Namjoon's probably already up–

“Good mornin–baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Namjoon's soft, a little raspy voice startles you. Your heart swells hearing the petname he's addressed you. Lifting your face up, you’re met with his worried expression.

He looks so normal. Like in every single morning you’ve spent together. He’s wearing his favourite, blue pajama pants and a plain, white tshirt. He hasn’t even put on eye contacts yet, choosing to wear his glasses instead that have successfully made you feel weak in the knees a few times before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks. You sniffle, gesturing with your hand to the kitchen counter where still lays the burnt toast. Namjoon follows your line of sight, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm down your breathing. “I wanted to make you a b-breakfast. And I fucked up as always because I burnt your favourite French toast.” you stammer out before another fresh wave of sobs racks through your body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Namjoon crunches down in front of you, placing his hand on your bare knee and rubbing the skin in soothing manner meant to calm your nerves. Just like you did to him last night when he tried to confess his feelings about the divorce. “It’s okay. We can make another one together.”

“But I wanted to do that just for you!”

Namjoon shakes his head and you could see a small smile dancing on his lips. “Silly, why were you so determined to make me a breakfast?”

“Because that’s what you deserve,” you say firmly.

“I deserve to have a good breakfast?” he teases.

You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve everything!” you exclaim, making Namjoon raise his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re always so good to me, Joonie. This Christmas made me realise just how much you care about me. I can’t let you agree to the divorce so easily,”

“What do you mean?”

You stand up from the stool and he follows you, towering over your form. You feel small but in a good way. You feel safe. “There will be no divorce. I’m not going to leave you.”

Namjoon cups your cheeks and he’s grinning like a fool but he needs you to say it. So he begs. “Please, tell me why is that.”

Your lips are already touching his when you whisper, “Because I love you. And I don’t think I will ever find someone quite like you, Joon.”

And then he’s kissing you. Your teeth clash but you don’t care, standing on your toes to mould your mouths together in better angle. He lifts you up from the floor with ease, swirling your bodies around. You’re laughing together and he isn’t even ashamed there is a tear or two running down his cheeks.

When he places you on the ground again, he knows he isn’t dreaming. He’s just living his dream life, with you by his side.

“I love you too.”

And just like that, your history together starts again.

Bonus:

“We made up with Namjoon.”

You hear your sister shriek on the other side. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually banged. You’re nasty, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t like that! I’m telling you we aren’t getting a divorce and the only thing you can think about is us having sex?”

But Soojin isn’t listening to you anymore. You hear her shouting, “Taehyung, they fucked and now they aren’t getting a divorce!”

“Soojin-ah!” you wail.

Taehyung's faint voice reaches your eyes. “I told you they would make up. You owe me fifty!”

“You made a bet?!” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Ghhh-shh. The connection is-shh-bad! I don’t hear-shhh-you! Bye!” She hangs up before you could say anything else.

Entering the kitchen, you’re met with your husband, casually sipping on his coffee. He lifts his eyebrows when he sees you and asks, “How's your little sister? Is she planning to rip off my balls?”

“Nope. But I’m changing my statement about her. She’s evil.” you say, sitting on a stool next to him.

“Glad we’re on the same page, baby.”

#namjoon smut #bts smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #hyungsmutsociety #namjoon angst #bts scenario #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon #namjoon fic #bts #my writing

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notallthosewho-wanderarelost · 3 years ago

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Since it’s Tuesday and we get Loki 1x05 tomorrow and then I’m seeing Black Widow the day after, and I guess I’m doing these now, some thoughts on Loki 1x04.

Hopefully this will be a shorter post due to me not knowing wtf is going on. This show is so chaotic and it’s perfect but that makes trying to predict it impossible. How VERY LOKI OF IT.

NOPE, NOPE THIS IS NOT A SHORTER POST, I have no idea what is going on plot wise but this episode gave me a lot of character stuff to talk about apparently.

Alright, let me get the big one out of the way. I’ve already said this in various places, mostly tags, but if I’m gonna make this post it’s gotta be here. I’m uncomfortable with Loki/Sylvie being romantic. Would prefer for Marvel to stay away from selfcest. PLEASE. I’m kind of hoping and wondering if it’s a fakeout for a reveal that Loki has finally learned to love or at least accept himself through his care of and admiration for Sylvie, which would be VERY Agent of Asgard-esque and I can see it being very probable.

I think giving Loki a love interest of any kind was always going to be difficult to pull off, but especially Loki as he is at the point in time when the show finds him- fresh off his attempted takeover of Earth and probably still deeply reeling from the revelation of his adoption and also likely mentally affected by any torture and/or mental manipulation Thanos might have done on him. Loki’s self-loathing is probably still close to an all-time high here and he’s questioning who he even is. I’m not saying that you have to love yourself before you can love someone else- I don’t think that at all; in fact I think loving someone else would probably encourage someone to value themselves more- but Loki as he is here I think would need to work through some of his own issues before he could get involved with anyone else. I think that Loki would need to learn to love himself first, to accept that he’s worthy of love, before he could genuinely fall in love with anyone else. (Remember this, I’ll come back to it.)

I got major sibling vibes from Loki and Sylvie on Lamentis. Like I said last post, they felt like alternate universe twins to me. They’re the same person from different universe, but also very much not the same- I feel like twins is the closest description? I can admittedly be pretty awful at picking up romantic vibes when I’m not expecting them, but I did not get romance vibes at all.

I also feel kind of annoyed that we would never be having this conversation or having this as a canonical ship option if Sylvie hadn’t been female. Loki is now officially canonically bi, (which means Sylvie is too btw) but in comics Loki is both bi and also genderfluid. Lady Loki is just Loki when Loki is identifying as female. So having Loki fall in love with a female version of himself feels both unnecessarily heteronormative and kind of...awkward in terms of 616!Loki’s genderfluidity, to put it lightly. (Note: I am not genderfluid, this is just my opinion, please prioritize actual genderfluid people’s opinions on the subject over mine.)

That said, after I finished the episode I was genuinely confused if they were actually going there and had to go look up interviews to see what the Loki team was saying about it. I found this interview with head writer Michael Waldron, also featuring quotes from director Kate Herron and from Tom Hiddleston. Relevant quotes below:

“That was one of the cruxes of my pitch [for the series], that there was going to be a love story,” head writer Michael Waldron explains to Marvel.com. “We went back and forth for a little bit about, like do we really want to have this guy fall in love with another version of himself? Is that too crazy? But in a series that, to me, is ultimately about self-love, self-reflection, and forgiving yourself, it just felt right that that would be Loki's first real love story.”

Loki reassures her that while they might lose, they don’t die — they survive. He goes on to call Sylvie “amazing” for how she almost took down the TVA on her own, and it’s clear from the look on his face that even though they’ve only been together a short while, Loki’s already come to admire and respect her. As the moon literally crumbles around them, Sylvie places a hand on Loki’s arm, and that’s when it happens: A branch on the Sacred Timeline. These two Lokis are having a moment they were never supposed to have, which as Mobius puts it, is “pure chaos.”

“The look that they share, that moment, [it started as] a blossoming friendship,” continues Waldron. “Then for the first time, they both feel that twinge of, ‘Oh, could this be something more? What is this I'm feeling?’ These are two beings of pure chaos that are the same person falling in love with one another. That's a straight-up and down branch, and exactly the sort of thing that would terrify the TVA.”

...

“Who’s a better match for Loki than himself?” director Kate Herron chimes in. “The whole show is about identity. It's about him, and he is on a very different path, and he is on a different journey. He sees things in Sylvie that he is like, ‘Oh, I've been there. I know what you feel.’ But she's like, ‘Well, I don't feel that way.’ And I think that was the kind of fun thing about it. She is him, but she's not him. They've had such different life experiences. So just from an identity perspective, it was interesting to dig into that.”

“When Loki meets Sylvie, he's inspired solely by curiosity,” reveals Hiddleston. “He wants to talk to her and understand her and try to discern what was similar about their experiences, and what was different. He keeps asking her questions because he wants to see if his experience was also her experience. I think he realizes, and she realizes, that while they're the same, they're not the same.”

Aside from the parts where Michael Waldron says “...have this guy fall in love with another version of himself...” and “the same person falling in with another version of one another,” everything they talk about in this article could be read as Loki and Sylvie caring for each other in a way that’s not necessarily romantic. Waldron even says that the series is specifically about self-love and forgiving yourself.

(Coming back to the thing from earlier about Loki needing to love himself now.) The way I’d read Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, especially from Loki’s side since we know more of his history, is that this is the first time that either of them actually cares about themselves. Because of their trust in and their love for each other, they’re each able to see themselves as a person worthy of love. I think that’s what the Nexus Event was. I think that’s why Loki and Sylvie’s moment of connection destabilized the timeline. Because Loki’s self-loathing is a deep root of his villainy, and the sacred timeline needs Loki to be a villain, two versions of Loki feeling self-worth, at the same time and place, created a HUGE nexus event. Loki even says it himself in the first episode: he doesn’t enjoy hurting people, he does it because (he feels) he has to, in a desperate play for control. He lashes out and hurts people because he thinks it’s the only way for him to have some control over things.

What Loki starts to speak to Sylvie at the end, he says, “This is new for me,” and references the nexus event on Lamentis. We never get to hear what it is that’s new for him. The episode sets it up to make us think that Loki’s about to tell Sylvie that he’s in love with her. But I think (or hope) that he was about to say something more along the lines of how the time he spent getting to know Sylvie on Lamentis helped him learn to care about himself and see his own self worth. That’s certainly a new feeling for him, since Loki seems to have always been an outsider and been looked down upon. And actually saying out loud that he’s starting to gain a sense of self worth would definitely be new for him. Loki knows that he and Sylvie will figure this out because he’s figured out the nexus event on Lamentis- that when they accept themselves and their own self worth, they can do pretty much anything.

I think it’s also worth mentioning that we never actually hear from Loki himself that he’s in love with Sylvie. We only hear it from Mobius, who’s feeling pretty betrayed by Loki and uses the entire concept to write Loki off as a huge narcissist. That way, he won’t feel as bad about Loki betraying him, or about sticking Loki in a time loop jail. Not that Loki would be the type to shout any romantic feelings to the world, especially in this situation, but the way he kept denying it didn’t seem like it was something he had to lie about.

This episode also called Loki a narcissist a lot; I assume to set up the “reveal” of his feelings for Sylvie and explain why he would fall in love with an alternate version of himself. But while Loki is many things and sure has a lot of issues, I do NOT think narcissism is one of them. When the time loops really start to get to him, he says to Sif: “I crave attention, because I’m a narcissist. And I suppose it’s because I’m scared of being alone.” But that second sentence completely contradicts the whole idea of narcissism! According to a quick google, the definition of “narcissist” is “a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves.” But Loki is the exact opposite. He has such a low opinion of himself that he acts out to get attention, because he’s so used to being overshadowed, overlooked and alone that he’s afraid that if he doesn’t do things for attention then nobody will give him any. He can be arrogant, yes, but even a lot of that stems from well-earned confidence. Loki is very talented magically and is used to being the smartest person in the room. He knows what he’s good at. But he sure isn’t attention-seeking just for its own sake. Any narcissism he’s displayed, he’s done since becoming a “villain” in Thor, and it’s actually been a mask to cover up his massive inferiority complex.

I also think it’s definitely worth mentioning that when Loki calls himself a narcissist, he’s repeating what Mobius said to him earlier. Loki clearly does care about Mobius and his opinion of him and feels bad about how things have fallen out with him. He’s also been through the time loop dozens of times now, and there’s a reason the TVA picked that memory. Because what Sif says to Loki really reflects his deepest fear. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he has such little love for himself that he might very well think he deserves to be. Loki’s emotionally exhausted at that point and just wants things to stop.

Okay. I think that covered most of my character analysis of the episode. I have some theories about Sylvie and the Time Keepers/TVA, etc, but they won’t be anywhere near as long as THAT^ was.

To start at the beginning of the episode: Sylvie’s backstory is SO SAD. I want to hug her. She spent almost her entire life on the run, growing up and living in apocalypses so the TVA wouldn’t catch her again. She didn’t deserve any of that and I’m so upset on her behalf.

Especially because as I said in another post, I think that the reason Sylvie got taken by the TVA was because she was never going to be a villain. Sylvie was kind and wanted to be heroic in the clip we see of her as a child, and she knew she was adopted. She was never going to be the Loki the TVA needed her to be for the Sacred Timeline because nothing would have ever pushed her to do what our Loki did.

The scene with Sylvie and B-15 was so good. Sylvie was kind to B-15, because her natural instinct is to be kind, and I have so many feelings about that. I love Sylvie. And then B-15 coming to the rescue to uncollar Sylvie and Loki and give Sylvie her sword was EPIC. She’s so cool.

Small aside, I got emotional seeing Asgard again in Sylvie’s flashback. I miss Asgard. :(

Also, if a kid can escape the TVA just by biting the agent holding her, the TVA have really got to step up their game. That’s kind of pathetic. Good for Sylvie though, that was very clever of her. The most juvenile yet effective tactic.

The Time Keepers being fake robots was an excellent twist, and one that I kind of saw coming as soon as they didn’t show Ravonna’s conversation with them earlier in the episode. It immediately made me feel like there were no Time Keepers at all. (And I was wondering if the no-robots rule from episode 1 would be plot relevant! I wonder if it has anything to do with the Time Keepers actually being robots?) It was also really clear that Ravonna was lying about what happened to C-20. As of now I think that Ravonna might actually be the real power behind the TVA. Or possibly a designated lieutenant to the real power behind the TVA:

When I was looking up interviews about Loki/Sylvie in this episode, I stumbled across an article about Ravonna’s comic counterpart and started kicking myself so hard for not recognizing her. In comics, Ravonna Renslayer is Kang the Conqueror’s wife. (Now, in my defense, my previous exposure to Ravonna was in Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, in which she spends most of her screentime in a coma.) For anyone who doesn’t know, Kang the Conqueror is a time traveling classic Avengers villain. His whole thing is that he time travels, and wants to take over all of time. So it’s possible that Ravonna runs the TVA to benefit Kang somehow (maybe because Kang needs a certain sequence of events to assure a future victory over the Avengers?) or even does it on his orders. Kang the Conqueror is also set to be in Antman and the Wasp: Quantumania. (Aka Antman 3.)

(I don’t know if it’s relevant, but Kang the Conqueror also happens to be the reason the Young Avengers form. The very first member, Iron Lad aka Nate Richards, is a teenage Kang who meets his future self and decides he doesn’t want to be evil, so he travels back in time to get the help of Kang’s nemeses, the Avengers. However, he lands when the Avengers have disbanded and winds up putting together a team of Avengers-affiliated teenagers instead. The team gets bigger over time and a later version of it notably includes Kid Loki. I’m not going to go off on a Young Avengers tangent here but I LOVE the Young Avengers, please read Young Avengers volume 1 by Allan Heinberg and Jim Cheung and all of its associated tie-ins. It’s fantastic. Unfortunately Kid Loki is only in volume 2, which gets a very solid “no thank you” from me but ymmv. Imo if you want Loki, read Agent of Asgard instead; I keep bringing it up for a reason and that’s because it’s amazing. Kid Loki is also in Journey into Mystery prior to his appearance in Young Avengers, and I haven’t read that yet but it looks very good.)

I’m VERY curious as to what the deal is behind the TVA. This could go a lot of different ways but they all seem exciting.

This show is definitely gearing up for a finale in which the TVA no longer exists or at least no longer decides everyone’s fates, which is exactly what I predicted back in episode 1.

Final thoughts on the episode: I was just wondering after Mobius was pruned if maybe the pruning sticks are actually teleporters of some kind, instead of time tasers, and then we got THAT CREDITS SCENE. I am so confused but also VERY EXCITED. I almost screamed when I saw Kid Loki. MY CHILD. I just had this thought but oh, I would kill for a Thori reference. Best murder dog. Classic Loki’s costume looks so terrible, it’s absolutely on purpose, and I love it.

THIS SHOW HAD BETTER END WITH MOBIUS GETTING A JETSKI. AND BOTH SYLVIE AND LOKI HAPPY.

I’ve been wondering since the show was announced if this show would somehow end with a version of the comics Kid Loki + AoA Loki storyline, where this Loki gets reborn into the main MCU as Kid/Teen Loki so he can join the Young Avengers, and I still don’t know how I feel about that, but with how things are going I can still see it happening.

LET EVERYONE WE LOVE BE HAPPY AT THE END MARVEL.

#long post #loki spoilers #loki 1x04 #loki series #a rare text post appears #loki #sylvie #mobius #tva #ravonna renslayer #kang the conqueror #meta #my stuff

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years ago

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And we’re back for the second chapter, which is a lot shorter than the last - only half the size, thank goodness. I have a feeling this will go by somewhat faster than the first chapter, if only because there’s so much less happening per chapter and less worldbuilding to pick at.

Being up to forty followers already is actually really neat - I was expecting this project to go under the radar a bit longer. Thank you for all the likes and comments, and especially the reblogs!

[No. 2 - Roaring Muscles]

Have to admit that the title page is definitely something - it’s deliberately styled in the same format as Western comic book covers. And in so, you can really see the difference in art style between the Westernized All Might and Horikoshi’s normal style for Izuku.

The next page is a full body shot of All Might posing (RIP all the pens that died inking that one image), with some background panels covering the basics about the man - that his age and quirk are unknown, and that his strength has made him popular even since his debut. He’s got a lot of merch, branding, magazine covers, newspaper headlines, movie adaptations, etc etc. and, of course, that creepy fucking mask.

If Izuku has one of those, I am both disappointed and completely not surprised. I both look forward to and dread the day someone draws him wearing that monstrosity. Also-

Is that the same keychain Ochako gets during the Secret Santa swap in some hundred and twenty or so chapters?

Alright, not the same one, but a similar pose. Not surprising, since I doubt Hori even remembered this panel at the point Ochako was given it, but it would have been an interesting little callback if it had been.

Moving on, we learn that since he became active, there’s been a notable decrease in the appearance rate of villains - with a graph showing the decline. His existence alone is a deterrent to villainy, which in no way will cause issues decades down the line. But yeah, basically Izuku confirms that All Might’s earned his title of ‘Symbol of Peace’ - and that the same man with so many accolades just told him he could be a hero.

(That last panel, of just Toshinori and Izuku, which is so uncluttered compared to the other panels… mmm, gotta love it. Makes it feel so much more poignant and dreamlike, which it probably was to Izuku at the time.)

The next page gets right to where we left off, with Izuku on the ground crying his eyes out while his mind plays through all the doubts and negative words thrown at him over the past chapter years. However, he’s finally heard what he’s always wanted to hear from this Alolan Exeggutor lookin’ dude:

Who also happens to be the No. 1 hero and Izuku’s idol. Izuku wonders if he could wish for anything more than that, so of course, Exeg- I mean Toshinori continues on, saying Izuku is worthy of inheriting his power. Which snaps Izuku out of his happy crying to actually look up at his idol, confused as heck.

BABEY.

But yeah, Toshinori laughs at Izuku’s expression and says that it’s a proposal, and that there’s work to be done. Also, this is the first instance of ‘my boy’ shown in the manga - while I know in Japanese it’s supposed to be just a translation of ‘young man’ or something close, I choose to see it in a different manner, as per my Dad Might agenda:

Look, you have to admit things went from 0 to 100 real fucking fast here, I will not take criticism on my interpretation. While we’re on the topic of ‘0 to 100’:

Toshinori please get that checked that’s a lot of blood jesus fuck. But yeah, he offers Izuku his power (which outside a shounen manga is questionable, kids, don’t trust that.) Izuku is still confused, naturally, so Toshinori clarifies he means his quirk. He explains how the tabloids like to guess what his quirk is, while he avoids answering with jokes, because All Might has to come off as a natural born hero.

(Also that dramatic posing, he’s such a fucking loser, I love him so much.)

You can really fucking tell he’s a performer at heart. I feel like it fits with his love of movies too - he probably liked acting out the dramatic hero speeches and fights in old superhero movies. Which I mean, also makes sense since heroes in the current era are as much actors and performers as they are public servants who handle crime and disasters.

Toshinori explains his quirk was passed down to him like the Olympic torch, which Izuku mentally stumbles over, and when that is confirmed, Izuku falls into a dazed rambling over this, completely tuning out of the outside world; he thinks about all the previous theories put out there, then basically confirming that his power being passed on is nothing anyone has ever considered, in part because there’s so little known about quirks, and even the reason ‘quirk’ [which in Japanese is ‘Individuality’] is used, because they’re unique to the person who wields said power.

(Also, I want to know what the other six mysteries of the world are, Izuku. Why won’t you share that important tidbit with us? Worry about the quirk later!)

Toshinori cuts into his rambling, asking if Izuku really doubts him and that it’s nonsense, he has secrets but he doesn’t outright lie. Izuku does snap out and try to apologize, but Toshinori continues on:

One For All. Certainly a power that comes with no downsides, hidden legacies, or enough mysteries to fill the other six damned slots of the mysteries of the world. Izuku repeats the name slowly, and Toshinori goes on to explain it:

A small detail to note, there’s eight lights in the background, already revealing how many holders there currently are at this point. Notice how much weaker OFA must have been back at the beginning, compared to the power Toshinori has, and then expand that to what Izuku starts out with. And interestingly, it’s called a ‘crystalline network of power’, and that it ‘links those crying out to be saved and those with brave and true hearts.’ For our first description of OFA, it… sure seems poetic and almost romantic. Wonder if that will hold up in the chapters to come.

Anyways, moving on from that, Izuku asks why him, and Toshinori says he’s been looking for a successor, and that he believes Izuku worthy. Even as someone who is quirkless and a ‘mere hero admirer’, he was more heroic than anyone else there. Izuku tears up again, and Toshinori slaps himself in the forehead, saying it all depends on what Izuku says.

Izuku gets to his feet and rubs away the tears, thinking about what he’s been told and how Toshinori’s greatest secrets (hah) have been divulged to him. He asks himself if he has reason to refuse, and immediately decides that no, he doesn’t, and tells Toshinori he accepts while reaffirming he’s got no reason to refuse. Toshinori says he expected nothing less than that quick answer.

Seriously, look at the intensity of that reply, he is down and willing to do this. No second guessing, no hesitation.

This seems like a good stopping point, since the second half of the chapter is all the training, including the montages, so I’ll finish things up in the next one (yes, I know, not taking five posts to get to the point, who would have thought?) and we can get into the crazy fun stuff.

#chapter 2 #opening arcs #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #ofa afo #figures I should tag that since this is the first mention of what it's all about #we'll see how that explanation gets built on later #also no hesitation at all #Izuku is READY for that quirk #which makes sense when he wants to be 'the strongest hero... like All Might'

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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I think I’m just gonna ramble a bit-- nothing earthshaking-- so here��s a nice, unrelated picture of Cooler to set that up.

I managed to get through Camp Nano in April with about an hour to spare. I’m still frustrated with my pacing, because I’ve gotten pretty good at finishing the November writing goals with time to spare, but I always end up falling behind on the shorter goals I try to do during the rest of the year. July is up next, so I’m kind of hoping I can turn this around by then.

April was difficult all over, so I’m trying to use May to chill the fuck out. Somehow I find that hard to do. Like if I’m relaxing, I just get bored or feel unproductive. That’s one reason I’m writing this post. I just want to get some thoughts out of my head so I can move on.

For whatever reason, I got sucked into watching YouTube videos about the Nostalgia Critic and his various blunders from 2012 to present. That sounds pretty sad now that I write it out, because I never followed the guy that closely, so I keep forgetting the hellacious filming schedule discussed in the Change the Channel movement happened years earlier, and the movies themselves were ridiculed as debacles, so it’s not just one bad year, more like nine or ten. Anyway, watching all of this has given me some stuff to think about.

I think I first heard about the NC when he started doing that “feud” with the Angry Video Game Nerd. They did some videos together teasing a crossover, and then they finally went through with it, and it wasn’t terrible, but I had no idea who the other guy was. It was like Batman teaming up with some indie comics character you never heard of. Batman doesn’t need the rub. From the beginning, I got the sense that Nostalgia Critic was the one driving this concept. Once I heard about Channel Awesome and all these YouTube reviewers crossing over with each other, I was sure of it.

Looking back on it all, I get the sense that NC has never really had much of a creative agenda. His early work involved “reviewing” movies by playing long clips of them to recap the plot, and then making some snarky commentary. Not the worst format, except he kept getting copyright strikes from YouTube, which was why he started his own website to host his videos. Over the years, it feels like people have begun to recognize the flaw in that format. Past a point, you’re not really “reviewing” anything. It’s more like an MST3K style thing, only shorter and less authorized.

Years ago, I used to read this site called “The Agony Booth”, which sort of did the same thing but in text. Before YouTube really got going, the only way to lambast a movie or TV episode properly was to meticulously describe it in prose, with the occasional screenshot here and there. Nostalgia Critic probably represents a point where people realized they could do the same thing in video form, except it starts to cross the line from commentary to something else. Siskel and Ebert never did a blow-by-blow synopsis of a movie. Reviewers like the Agony Booth crew did, because they were often discussing old material, and couldn’t show it to you or assume that you had seen it yourself. A lot of NC’s early stuff was the same deal, where he’d recall something from his childhood and rewatch it to see how it holds up in the present. So I’m sure a lot of his content covered old, out-of-circulation things. But he’d do more recent stuff too, and the attitude surrounding YouTube at the time was that you could pretty much do whatever you wanted as long as you kept it under ten minutes.

Anyway, the Channel Awesome thing looked like an alliance of similar YouTube reviewers, and they kept appearing in each other’s stuff, and then they did the anniversary movies, which were basically “mega crossovers” with all of them appearing together in the same... story, I guess? At the time, I wrote the whole thing of as a masturbatory power fantasy. Comic books did crossovers like these all the time, and YouTube seemed to have hundreds of “reviewers” and “personalities” who would put on silly costumes and carry toy weapons like they were about to fight Thanos instead of discussing the ALF cartoon. The second Channel Awesome movie was about high fantasy tropes, and the third one was a space opera, so that seemed to support my assumption.

From watching all these videos about the movies, though, it looks more like each one was mostly about the Nostalgia Critic talking all his “friends” into another one of his kooky schemes, and they all just sort of go along with it, even though they know him to be a self-centered jerk. Then the third one ends with NC quantum-leaping out of the story itself and meeting Doug Walker, the guy who writes and plays the character. They try to sell the audience on the idea that NC had some sort of character development across the three movies, and he decides to sacrifice himself to save the day or something. This was touted as the finale for the character. Except it turned out later that Doug Walker wasn’t just playing a self-centered jerk, he really was a self-centered jerk, because he treated the others like crap during the filming and didn’t tell any of them that he was killing off their website’s top draw.

That leads into Demo Reel, the series Doug Walker introduced to fill the void. From what I’ve seen, it sure looked like he wanted/expected this to be a big hit, and he killed off his biggest meal ticket to make this happen. But everyone hated it. I think the pilot episode asks the question “What is Demo Reel?” about three times. Each time, the answer makes less and less sense. “Demo Reel” the show is about a studio named “Demo Reel”, run by Donnie DuPre, a self-centered jerk who seems to think there’s big money to be made in plagiarizing movies. The whole thing is just a flimsy plot device to explain why Doug Walker and two other actors would bother making a no-budget parody/re-telling of three Batman movies smooshed together. There’s no real-world or fictional reason for three people to do this, it’s just that Doug Walker wanted to make a YouTube video about Batman, but he didn’t want to use the NC format, and he couldn’t just talk over a Batman movie without getting in trouble with Warner Bros. And I guess just... dressing up like Batman and making jokes needs some sort of context, so that’s where the Demo Reel concept comes in.

What really annoys me is that Demo Reel has this “mockumentary” thing going on at the same time, so you end up watching their parody movie and the scenes where they make the parody movie, and you get these interview segments where they talk about talking about making the parody movie. It’s like “The Office” except every character is completely delusional. They’ve all convinced themselves that this is a really good idea, and I guess the joke is that this is a really stupid job and they must be pretty stupid to work at it.

No one knows where Demo Reel was originally headed, because it was so reviled by the audience that it got cancelled in five episodes, ending with the revelation that Donnie DuPre was the Nostalgia Critic all along, in some sort of amnesiac state. Or maybe that was the plan all along, I’m not sure which scenario would be dumber, honestly. New Coke was a sincere effort to phase out the original Coca-Cola formula, but it was such a failure that everyone thinks it was a brilliant ploy to make consumers appreciate the original. So who knows?

Anyway, this started the next phase of NC, where he would just remake scenes of whatever movie he’s covering that week, a la Demo Reel. I don’t know if that’s just a strategy to avoid YouTube copyright strikes, or a stubborn refusal to give up the core concept of Demo Reel, or what. Then he got around to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”, and everyone crapped on that, big time. I haven’t seen the original movie or his “review”, but from what I gathered, Doug

a) basically did a shot-for-shot remake of the movie, only shorter and cheaper.

b) spent the whole video lambasting the movie and the band for making it.

c) offered his parody songs for sale on iTunes, calling them a “love letter to Pink Floyd.”

The big question is: Why did he put so much work into making the thing when he had so little to actually say about it? There’s no clear opinion expressed about the movie, even though the video is supposed to be a “review”. He kind of acts like he thought “The Wall” was okay, but the parody lyrics read like the awkward part of a celebrity roast. Why go to all this trouble unless you really love or absolutely despise “The Wall”?

Eventually, I started to figure out that this guy really just doesn’t have much to say. He wants to make videos, make movies, make reviews, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any real opinion or thought that he wants to express. I was watching him freak out over the credit card scene from “Batman and Robin” and thought “Are you that upset over Batman having a credit card?” That’s not even in the top twenty dumbest things in that movie. Sure, it’s worth a snide remark, but not much more than that. But he’s “doing a character”, and the NC’s whole schtick is to flip out over stuff like that.

Except it’s not a character, because NC is just Doug Walker wearing a stupid hat, right? In the movies, NC’s whole persona is that he’s a self-centered jerk who treats his friends like a personal army, and the real Doug Walker was doing the exact same thing off-camera. Donnie DuPre was another “character”, wearing a different hat, only whoops, he’s the Nostalgia Critic too. And even if he wasn’t the same guy, his persona was... you guessed it, a self-centered jerk who treats his friends like a personal army.

There was this whole era on YouTube where it seemed like all these “content creators” were trying to adopt silly gimmicks. I’m guessing the Angry Video Game Nerd started the trend, because he dressed up in a white button-down shirt with a pocket protector and glasses. He looked like a stereotypical nerd, you see. And he’d drink a particular kind of beer, and lose his temper and set Nintendo cartridges on fire, because AVGN was a character. You watch James Rolfe being himself and he’s a whole other person, always smiling and talking about horror movies and filmmaking, because that’s what the real guy is about. There’s a separation there.

I think that was the disconnect. A lot of these YouTubers saw James Rolfe playing the Nerd and just assumed the secret was to rant and rave about some topic, and he used a Nintendo Zapper to shoot a pickle monster once, so dressing up like a Power Ranger in a trenchcoat didn’t seem like a bridge too far. Well, no not if you’re trying to make a movie or tell a story. If all you want to do is talk about Star Wars, you should probably keep it simple. I think one of the consequences of Nostalgia Critic’s fall from grace is that modern YouTubers are more grounded. I’ve watched a lot of Jenny Nicholson videos and she’s pretty funny and animated, but she’s not trying to be a charicture of herself. She’s just this lady sitting on her bed surrounded by porg dolls. It works a lot better.

I used to watch the Game Overthinker unironically. Does anyone remember Moviebob? Well once upon a time he wasn’t completely bonkers. The GO series was reasonably well done and uncomplicated... until the dude started appearing on camera and introducing “characters” and storylines that killed whatever point he was trying to make in his video essays. Then I started watching him ironically, and then I sort of stopped caring about him altogether, and then he pissed away whatever goodwill he had. I can’t help but feel like he might have been better off just staying behind the camera, or if he had to be on-screen, just sit on a bed with a bunch of Mario dolls or whatever.

The fad of YouTube personality as wannabe superhero got me thinking of the whole “Mary Sue” and “self-insert” thing. They’re really poorly defined terms, and they’ve been overused in so many unfair criticisms that I don’t think they make much sense anymore. When I first got into fanfic, I saw a lot of people simply writing themselves into their stories. That’s what a self-insert was. You literally inserted yourself in the story so you could tell Wolverine to his face that his haircut looks stupid, or whatever you wanted to say to him. I always found this idea infuriating, because I know who Wolverine is, but this other guy telling him off is a complete stranger, and why should I care about him? Why should Wolverine care?

One response to that problem would be to present your self-insert like a bigger deal than you are. You could put yourself in this story and not only talk to Wolverine, but give yourself an elaborate backstory, where you’re a high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and you and Logan go way back, etc., etc. But that’s a tricky proposition, because if you’re doing it right, you’re just inventing a new character with the same name as you. Or you can overdo it and make the character too big a deal, at the risk of outshining the other characters. The Mary Sue concept originated from this, with Star Trek fanzines getting all these story submissions about young, super-talented ensigns who join the crew and immediately win over Kirk, Spock, and McCoy.

The dirty little secret of character creation is that every character you write is a self-insert or an author surrogate, to some degree. You can have one that’s meant to be your alter ego, the one who’s based on you and tends to react the way you would in a similar situation. But you’re writing all the other characters too, and deciding what they think and say and do, so to a certain point they also think a lot like you do, whether you meant for them to or not. The trick is not to be super-blatant about it, or to revel in the creative freedom to break the fourth wall. Readers hate that stuff, because they don’t know you well enough to get the joke.

That’s the advice I’ve always had at the ready in case anyone ever asked me. But, watching all this stuff about the Nostalgia Critic has made me realize that it applies from the other direction. It’s very easy to say you’ve created a character, distinct from yourself, only for it to turn out to be more of a reflection of you than you intended. I can’t tell if Doug Walker is self-aware or not, but it seems like the joke with all his “characters” is that they’re extremely selfish and shallow, and yet he seems to also be selfish and shallow. So is he aware of this, and he’s trying to exaggerate his flaws for his characters? Or does he just not realize that he’s telling on himself every time he plays these roles? Or does he think everyone is selfish and shallow, and that this is just boilerplate information, like blinking and wearing shoes?

I’ll pick on myself, because it’s handier to do so. I’ve made a bunch of original characters over the years, some that were supporting players, and others who were designed to be big deals. One of my villains was this bitter misanthrope, and eventually I realized that I was a lot more like him than the outgoing group of buddies that he was trying to oppose. That hit me and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with that ever since.

I wrote a butler in my Hellsing fic, basically an anti-Walter based on Marcus Brody from the Indiana Jones movies. He was clueless and couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and he was really old, so he told the vampires that if he ever had a heart attack and dropped dead on the job that they shouldn’t pass up the free meal. Is that me in there? I tend to think a lot about the world moving on without me, and my own obsolescence. I just didn’t think I was tapping into that when I wrote the character. I wouldn’t even bring it up, except I liked writing the guy so much, and that’s the main thing I remember about him.

A lot of my villains in Luffa are representations of things that I’d like to see punched, because Luffa is an unapologetic Mary Sue Self Insert. I made her all these other things that I’m not: brave, a woman of color, a good cook, a charismatic lover. But fuck that, this was all just a ploy to keep people from noticing any resemblance to me and my imaginary punching agenda. But the villains hold all these shitty attitudes and shitty behaviors, things which I consider to be wrong but sometimes catch myself turning a blind eye to. Jealousy, greed, fear, resentment, and so on.

You end up putting a lot of yourself into your writing, there’s really no way to avoid it. The only real trick is to disguise it a bit so it looks like a story instead of just an essay or an autobiography. I think that’s where some of the YouTube personalities got it wrong, because they would try to tell a story AND write an essay at the the same time, and that’s tough to pull off. One of the big things that came out of that whole Channel Awesome document was this problematic scene in “To Boldly Flee” where Linkara has been replaced by a cyborg duplicate, and he converts Lindsey Ellis into a cyborg, and someone hears all these suggestive noises and thinks they’re having rough sex. It’s awkward anyway you slice it, but it gets even worse because it’s basically the real Linkara and Lindsey Ellis. Their “characters” are so poorly distinguished from the real people that there’s no other way to describe it.

Also, one of the most salient points I picked up from watching all these commentary videos is that real people can’t have character arcs. You can’t just stick Filmdude and Captain Snark and Filmdudette and Movie Sniffer and The Comics Complainer all into the same scene and expect anything important to happen to any of them. They can’t learn anything or grow in any appreciable way during the story, because they’re real and the story is fictional. The only “character” to their roles are the bit where they review pop culture stuff, which might as well be non-fictional, so why bother? Even if I’m wrong, and there really is a more complete fictionalized version of everybody in the Channel Awesome Trilogy, the waters are so muddied that you can’t make sense of it.

And that’s the real danger of leaning too hard into putting a 1:1 replica of yourself into your stories. Stephen King can be a bus driver in one of his movies, and Stan Lee can be a bus driver in Avengers 3, but if Stan Lee just started kicking the shit out of Ultron it’d be confusing, especially for people who didn’t know who he was. And if Joss Whedon started kicking the shit out of Ultron, it’d be even worse, because he’s not as well-known as Stan Lee. You’re better off making up a guy like Thor or the Hulk who can do it for you, and then putting just enough of yourself into those characters that you won’t get caught.

At least, that’s how I see it.

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

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Walk Me Home - Ch 5

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3777

Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. Decided to give Wednesday posting a try and also get a chapter up a little earlier to make up for lack of posting. Be prepared to brush your teeth after this one. The fluff morphed into cotton candy when I wasn’t looking. Also, be prepared, the next chapter is short, but...intense? Yes. Let’s say intense.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 5

Kimber drifts gradually back to consciousness, feeling warmer and safer than she has in decades. She draws in a deep breath, stretching luxuriously, and then stilling suddenly. This bed is not her bed. This blanket is not her blanket. She has a brief moment of panic before she opens her eyes to find Dean’s face inches from hers, smooth and relaxed with sleep.

She’d only been able to let him go last night long enough for him to grab his own quick shower and change into sleep clothes. Then, in wordless agreement, they’d settled under the covers of her bed. They’d woven limbs together, pressed close without a word of discussion or thought of awkwardness.

Just as she was falling asleep, she felt his cheek press against the top of her head, and he’d murmured a single question. She nodded her consent, and his lips met her forehead, just as soft and warm as she remembered. Then sleep asserted its claim.

Kimber lies still in Dean’s arms now, afraid to move and wake him. She’s never seen him this peaceful and relaxed, even back before life took more of a toll on him. With his guard down, she can finally see all the fine lines etched by a hard life spread over his features, adding depth and detail to his face.

In the early morning light filtering through the threadbare curtains, she can just make out a sparse sprinkling of gray in his hair, and she smiles. Time may be catching up with Dean Winchester, but he is definitely not worse for wear.

She shifts a little, freeing a hand, and he grumbles in his sleep, his arms tightening for a second before relaxing again. She strokes his hair back gently, combing her nails lightly across his scalp, and he shivers against her.

She’s never seen him this vulnerable, this soft, even when they were younger. She has to strangle down the urge to trace his facial features with her fingertips. Whatever this is between them is strained by absence and misunderstanding but has somehow managed to survive the years. Touching him so intimately without his knowledge or consent…

No, she thinks. I want to ask him, I want him to hear him say yes. I want him to ask me to touch him.

Instead, she snuggles closer, closing her eyes and resting her face on his chest again, basking in the safety and warmth of his embrace for as long as she can. She is mortified when, five minutes later, her stomach lets out a growl so loud that it actually rouses Dean from his sleep. His arms tense as he stretches and frowns, eyebrows lowering with concern.

“You hungry or just really happy to see me?” he rumbles, his eyes closing again. She giggles, embarrassment abated. Then she becomes acutely aware of the rat’s nest that is her hair and what tastes like a truly horrific case of morning breath. She disentagles herself from his legs and rolls from his grasp, smiling to herself at his muttered protests. Snatching her previous day’s clothes, Kimber slips into the bathroom to perform whatever damage control she can manage under the circumstances.

Thirty minutes later finds them at the diner across the parking lot, downing coffee with mutual, silent appreciation. Dean’s brother Sam is expected imminently, and Kimber has no classes or office hours today, so they are mostly ready to begin the investigation.

“We need to sweep your office and house for hex bags,” Dean says, between sips of his second cup of coffee. “Your house will take a while, so why don’t we start with your office to get it out of the way?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kimber agrees, frowning. “I’ll know if anything is missing, out of place, or new. Maybe you and Sam could check out the spots of the other accidents?”

Dean opens his mouth to answer, then his eyes focus on something over her shoulder, and he nods a greeting. She turns to see a ridiculously tall man in a suit headed in their direction. It takes her longer than she’s proud to admit to reconcile this giant stranger with the slumped, defeated boy she last saw in the backseat of the Winchester’s car.

“Sam?”

His smile is warm, if a little hesitant, and she stands. They fumble between a hug and a handshake, finally settling on the former before seating themselves. A waitress drops off another mug for Sam, along with coffee refills all around, and they waste no time filling Sam in on the little they know and what they have planned.

“Actually, Sam,” Dean adds, glancing askance at the egg white omelette the waitress places in front of his brother, “I was thinking you could interview the victims at the hospital, see if they noticed anyone out of the ordinary or had contact with anyone that sounds like our stalker.”

Sam nods, his mouth full, and turns questioning eyes on Kimber. She closes her eyes, pushing as much distraction from her mind as possible.

“He was...on the shorter side. I’d say I probably have an inch or so on him. Younger than me, but I don’t know by how much. I’m really bad at judging age, I’m sorry. Unshaven but not a full beard, kind of rough-looking. Really pale. He never looked me in the eyes, so I didn’t see his eye color. Dark, shaggy hair.”

She shrugs, spreading her hands in apology. “I don’t remember much else. Dark blue windbreaker? It’s been a few weeks, and I didn’t think I’d have to point him out in a line-up or anything.”

Sam shakes his head quickly, swallowing. “No, Kimber, it’s fine. That’s more to go on than we usually have. I’ll talk to the victims, see if anyone stands out in their minds. You two have a solid plan. I’ll give you a call after I visit the hospital, see what I can find out.”

He hesitates, his eyebrows knitted together. “Kimber, I know you’re under a lot of strain, but could you go over the incidents one more time so I have the basics before I go talk to them? I wouldn’t ask, but I need to know what to expect.”

She can’t repress the shudder than runs through her stomach, but she shakes it off and rolls her shoulders. This is just an information exchange. She can handle that. She may need a drink or two afterwards, but she can get through it one more time.

Sam listens attentively, his forehead wrinkled, mouth set in a thin-lipped frown as she recounts the series of accidents plaguing her department. He exchanges some sort of troubled, wordless communication with Dean before glancing down at his folded hands. After considering for a long moment, he speaks, his words measured and careful.

“It definitely sounds like someone has a grudge against your department, at least, if not you specifically. All the victims are friends or work closely with you. We don’t know if any of the other victims got a doll like yours. That’s something for my list. You sure you can’t think of any reason, anything at all, that might make someone target all of you?”

She shoves down her mounting frustration, feeling impotent and slow. If she could think of anything at all helpful, she would have shared it by now.

“I really can’t, I’m sorry. I just don’t interact with that many people outside of the department, and we all get along fine, as far as I know. No special treatment, no recent honors anyone could be jealous of. I checked in with my hunter contacts that I’d helped out with witch cases in the last few years, even a few non-witch cases that were still open, and I got nowhere with that. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Sam sighs, nodding before finishing the last of his coffee. “Figured it was worth asking. Okay, I’m heading out. Dean, I’ll give you a call in a few hours.”

Dean nods to Sam, and the younger Winchester excuses himself, crossing the crowded restaurant with a few long strides before disappearing out the door.

Kimber turns back to Dean, her eyes wide with shock she’s barely managed to suppress until just now. He frowns, taking in her expression, looks down to inspect his shirt, then back up, his face comically confused.

“What? Do I have food on my face?”

“What did you feed him after you left town?!” Kimber keeps her volume low but can’t keep the wonder from her voice. “Growth hormones? Steroids? Jesus, he’s over a foot taller than the last time I saw you both, and he was already thirteen then!”

Dean barks out a loud, sharp laugh that earns him a reproving glance from a passing waitress. He bites his lip, covering his mouth with his hand, only partially successful at smothering his snort. She can’t help but smile, a little embarrassed at her outburst, but still…

“No, just lots of fast food. Good, healthy, all-American diet. Almost had to get a full-time job, just keepin’ him fed and clothed. Kid grew out of shoes and jeans like nothin’ I’ve ever seen.”

There’s no mistaking the fondness in Dean’s voice, almost more paternal than brotherly. And the off-hand comment about keeping Sam clothed and fed...Kimber’s heart twinges, but she carefully keeps her face as relaxed and amused as she can.

“Ready to go?” she asks. He nods and stands, lifting the check from the table to take up to the register. He offers her a hand, an inviting smile curling one corner of his mouth, and she does her best to smother the butterflies in her stomach as her fingers slide into his.

…

“I promised Sam I’d go to opening night,” Dean said, something like an apology in his voice. “He’s only working tech, but he’s really excited. It’s been a while since we’ve stayed anywhere long enough that he could get involved like this.”

Kimber squeezed his fingers, pulling her coat closed with her other hand. The temperature had dropped over the last few days, and the evening was brisk as they walked hand-in-hand to the high school.

“Dean, are you kidding? You’re taking me to a play, dinner, and meeting your family all at once. Three birds with one date!” She skipped a little, swinging his hand with hers, flashing him her most exaggerated grin as she let her eyes go wide and kooky. He snorted, glancing away to hide his smile.

He stopped suddenly, tugging gently until she stepped closer, her expression relaxing. His knuckles slid gently down her cheekbone and under her jaw, lifting her chin. He kissed her, a sweet, chaste brush of his lips over hers that sent her pulse dancing. Her cheeks warmed under his attention, and he pressed his lips a fraction more firmly against hers before straightening.

His eyes sparkled in the light from the streetlamp overhead. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

She popped up on her tiptoes to kiss him again, marveling at her own bravery as her hands clasped the sides of his face, locking him in place. Before he could recover, she grabbed his hand, tugging him into a run down the sidewalk, and they arrived at the school, breathless and laughing.

The performance of Oklahoma! was pretty standard for high school. Simple dance sequences, fair to decent singing (for the most part), and about forty minutes longer than Kimber preferred. They waited afterwards for Sam to make his way from the lighting board, and he shyly offered his hand to Kimber, who accepted, smiling and squeezing his fingers just a little.

The three of them arrived at the diner, relieved to see most families were celebrating at the more expensive restaurants across town. Sam looked over the menu, his eyes as hungry as the growl that escaped his stomach. Kimber didn’t miss the sad look he shot Dean before closing the menu and setting it down.

When he ordered an ice water and peanut butter sandwich, Kimber’s heart cracked.

“Sam, it’s my treat tonight. You did a great job; Mrs. Hasker never lets eighth graders work the soundboard, so go nuts. Order whatever you want. It’s your night.”

Sam, eyes wide with hope, glanced at Dean, who looked torn between shame and relief. Dean cleared his throat, shot a grateful smile at Kimber, then nodded at Sam.

“You did good, kid. Go for it.”

Sam’s face brightened, and Kimber couldn’t help but mirror his expression as he ordered a strawberry milkshake, double cheeseburger, and cheese fries. Kimber discreetly jabbed Dean in his ribs, and he side-glared at her, suppressing what was very definitely not a manly squeak of surprise.

“You, too, big brother,” she said, her eyes narrowing pointedly. His lips thinned, his expression pinched. She knew she was hitting a nerve for him; it was fine to accept dinner invitations at home, and fine for her to treat his little brother, but paying for him on a date was an entirely different matter. He visibly wrestled with the simple decision, frustration and pride warring with want.

She softened her expression, placing her hand over his clenched fist. “Please?” She mouthed. “It’s okay.” He glanced at Sam, who was happily chatting with the smiling waitress about the performance, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s face.

“Double-bacon cheeseburger, and chili fries, please.”

Dinner with the Winchester boys was a delight that Kimber never forgot. Though Dean teased his younger brother mercilessly, liberally sprinkling descriptors like “geek” and “nerd” in his comments, she saw the way his eyes would linger on Sam as the younger boy inhaled his meal between answering questions about his classes and the performance.

“Are you going to take AP classes, Sam?” Kimber asked. He seemed so keen and motivated, she couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t want to.

“I want to, but we move so much, I don’t think I could keep up with the curriculum,” he admitted, his expression falling.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Kimber lowered her voice conspiratorially. Sam leaned a little closer, intrigued, and she smiled at his eagerness. It was like looking at a mirror of herself just a few years ago.

“Most AP classes follow the same guidelines across the country, almost week by week. Mr. Schaeffer is the AP coordinator at our school, and he’s pretty cool for a teacher. If you talk to him, explain your situation, I’ll bet he could get you copies of most of the AP curriculum, maybe even some spare textbooks, so you could keep up with it as you guys move around.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Dean for confirmation. Dean shrugged, affecting disinterest as he leaned back to drape an arm around Kimber’s shoulder.

“I dunno, Sammy,” Dean drawled, “but Kimber’s the top of our class, so she’s probably got some idea what she’s talking about.” He let out an exaggerated huff of air as Kimber’s elbow connected with his side, doubling over as he pretended to fall out of the booth.

Sam peppered Kimber and Dean with questions about their classes for the rest of the night and didn’t even have to be convinced to have an extra large slice of celebratory pie to finish the meal off.

The three of them stayed late enough at the diner that Kimber was obliged to call her parents on the pay phone in the corner to assure them that she had not, in fact, been kidnapped and left in a ditch on the side of the road. The temperature had dropped considerably, so when Kimber’s mother offered to give all three of them a ride home, Kimber accepted without thinking.

“My mom will be here in about ten minutes,” she announced as she slid back into the booth. “She’s going to give you two a lift back to the motel on our way home.”

Dean’s expression fell sharply, and Kimber’s heart sank.

“You didn’t-”

“Thanks!” Sam said, unintentionally speaking over Dean. “It got so cold out all of a sudden. Say, do you think I should talk to Mr. Schaeffer tomorrow?”

“The sooner the better,” she said, shrugging on her coat. Sam nodded, slurping down the last of his drink and loping off to the bathroom. She glanced over at Dean, who was sitting stone-faced, a muscle twinging above his jaw.

“I didn’t mean to...I mean, I should have asked, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes closed, his jaw clenching as his lips pinched tight. Kimber waited, feeling the sting of tears prick at the back of her eyes. She’d crossed some unspoken line between them, and she didn’t know what to do to fix the moment. It had been such a good night, up til then.

“I...I’m not mad...at you,” Dean finally ground out. “Just...just gimme a second.”

He scrubbed his face with both hands, then glanced back towards the bathroom before speaking. He kept his eyes on the table-top, his hands clenching and unclenching on the cheap formica.

“I’m not...used to accepting hand-outs. I can take care of Sam, Kimber, I don’t need...you didn’t...you didn’t have to.”

She opened her mouth, fully ready to defend herself, but he held up a hand.

“I know. I know what you’re going to say. I get that it’s not a hand-out. I know you don’t...I know you aren’t lookin’ down at us. I’m not used to…”

He cleared his throat, then reached out to her, his eyes still firmly on the table-top. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick, his words measured.

“I promise, I’m not mad at you. Can we leave it at that for now?” He turned pleading eyes in her direction, his hand palm-up on the table. Her fingers were in his before she realized she’d moved. Mouth too dry to speak, she nodded and allowed herself to be pulled up from the booth.

Sam came barreling back from the restroom then, saving them from further awkward conversation, and they bundled up against the chill. By the time Kimber’s mother arrived, Dean had relaxed enough to greet Mrs. Harper pleasantly, and when they reached the motel, he leaned up to kiss Kimber’s cheek before climbing out of the backseat with Sam in tow.

The next day at school, Dean was a little distracted, almost distant. He walked her home that afternoon in almost complete silence. They were a block from her house when she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She stopped short, biting her lip as tears stung her eyes. To her shame, her throat started to clench, choking any attempt at words.

Dean looked back at her, concern and confusion clear on his face at her sudden stop.

She swiped the heel of her hand across her cheeks, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry about last night,” she managed, less coherently than she would have liked. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t...I’m sorry I ruined the evening.”

Dean was in front of her in an instant, thumbs wiping the tears from her face, lips pressed fiercely against her forehead.

“No, sweetheart.” His tone was rough and resolute. “I told you I’m not mad at you. Last night was...Last night was wonderful. I haven't seen Sam that happy in a long time. It’s been a rough few months. Sam and Dad have started fighting. Dad expects a lot from him, but not the usual good grades kind of ‘a lot.’ And when Dad pushes, Sam pushes back, and I…”

He dropped his forehead to hers, and Kimber pulled in a shaking breath.

“I didn’t want to drag you into our mess. You are perfect, and Sam and I both had a great time last night. Thank you. For dinner. For making Sam so happy. For everything.” He pulled back a few inches, catching her gaze. “Please don’t apologize again.”

She nodded, unable to answer aloud. He searched her eyes until he was satisfied, then nodded.

“ ‘M gonna kiss you now, so Imma need you to hold back on the tears for a minute. People will think I’m a terrible kisser if you cry through the whole thing.”

She laughed, and he caught her off guard, pressing his lips to hers before deepening the kiss. His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head until he found an angle to please them both. His tongue swept, feather-light, across her lower lip, and she melted.

They came back to Earth a few moments later, jolted from their universe by enthusiastic honking and shouting from a passing car full of guys from one of their classes. Kimber hid her blazing face against Dean’s neck as he nodded, grinning and waving at the other boys.

Instead of pulling away, Kimber linked her arms around his neck, shivering against a biting breeze that swept past. Dean’s arms constricted, pulling her close enough that she felt his heartbeat against her chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dean whispered, his words nearly lost in the breeze. Then he pulled away, linked his fingers through hers, and walked her home. He kissed her once more on her doorstep, holding her face between his warm, calloused palms, eyes closed.

He rested his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back. He tried to deliver that smooth, carefree grin from their first study session and failed miserably.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said. Then he turned, flipping up the collar of his jacket, and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed down the walkway. She watched him go, wanting nothing more than to run after him. The set of his shoulders, the tense bend of his neck, told her to hold her ground, though.

Something else was eating at Dean, and she knew him well enough to know that needling him wouldn’t get him to open up. He needed space and understanding, and she would just have to sit on her frustration. He asked for so very little, the least she could do was give him some time to work through whatever was going on. She just hoped it wouldn’t take too much time for him to open up. She hated seeing him so distant and miserable.

When Dean finally turned up that evening, he was thirty minutes late for dinner. His father glowered at the pair of them from the driver’s seat of a sleek, black muscle car, while Sam slumped, miserable, in the back. Kimber realized with cold, painful clarity that they had, in fact, no time left at all.

…

Chapter 6

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