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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin #mando x reader #mando fic #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Conflicts (Just Friends Part 6) - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 3518

Driving Home

The next morning it was time for you to make your way back home to Dublin. You had another few days of annual leave but your grandmother was scheduled to drop Max off at your house the following morning after his trip with her to Galway.

Whilst you enjoyed your time alone with Cillian, you did miss your son Max terribly and couldn’t wait to see him.

Cillian had been rather quiet since last night, ever since he made the phone call, and you were somewhat concerned.

He didn’t want to talk about it and you thought it to be appropriate to give him some space. Surely, he would come around once he was ready.

During the car drive you talked about the boys and school and things you had planned for the upcoming week but Cillian’s mood seemed somewhat low.

‘Are you sure that you are ok?’ you asked.

‘Yes, my mind has just been somewhere else. Sorry’ he responded.

‘And where has it been?’ you asked.

‘Work’ Cillian said.

‘Alright’ you said. You could tell that he really didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Filming starts again in six weeks and I’ll be gone for a while’ Cillian said as he placed his hand onto yours.

‘For how long?’ you asked.

‘4 months, but I’ll come back to Dublin for a week in between’ Cillian said. ‘And maybe you can visit me?’ Cillian asked.

‘I would love to visit you, if you want me to’ you said.

‘Of course, I do’ Cillian said with a smile on his face.

As you were still driving back to Dublin, Cillian received another two phone calls from someone called Sarah. He didn’t answer but rather sighed with annoyance when he saw the call come up on the dashboard of his car.

‘You can answer it if you like’ you said, curious about who Sarah was.

‘I rather not’ Cillian sighed.

‘Alright then’ you said, an awkward silence erupting between you and Cillian which lasted until the moment Cillian pulled up in front of your house.

Just as the car stopped, you collected your thoughts. You really didn’t want to have your first possibly about nothing.

‘Thank you for the amazing weekend’ you said before kissing Cillian gently.

‘I love you’ he said in response, caressing your face.

‘I love you too. Will I see you tonight?’ you asked.

‘Of course, I will be around at 6’ Cillian said before giving you another kiss and driving off.

Who is Sarah?

After you unpacked your clothes and had some time to do some household chores, the doorbell rang.

You almost forgot that you had a coffee date with your and Cillian’s mutual friend Leah that afternoon.

As you opened the door it was pouring rain again and Leah was rather soaked. You offered her some dry clothes of yourself, which she gladly accepted, and boiled the kettle for some tea.

After Leah had time to get changed into your clothes, you both sat down at the kitchen table.

‘So, how was your time with Cillian?’ Leah asked. ‘You know, I really didn’t expect you two to get involved with each other’ she added.

‘Why is that?’ you said as you sipped on your tea.

‘I don’t know, I just didn’t see it coming. You make a cute couple though’ Leah said.

‘I suppose’ you said, looking down on your cup.

‘You suppose? Did you guys have a fight or something?’ Leah asked.

‘No, it’s just…’ you said before discontinuing your sentence.

‘It’s just what?’ Leah asked.

‘He received a few phone calls last night and this morning and he’s been really quiet since. I suppose I am just a bit worried’ you explained.

‘Phone calls from whom?’ Leah asked.

‘Someone called Sarah’ you said, causing Leah to choke on her biscuit.

‘I am not surprised then. Sarah is his ex’ Leah explained.

‘I thought his ex-wife’s name is Natalie?’ you asked surprised as you recalled having met her once at a BBQ when she dropped off the boys. She had remarried and was there with her new husband.

‘Not his ex-wife, his ex-girlfriend. They broke up five months ago but they still work together on Peaky Blinders, which might be a bit of an issue’ Leah explained.

‘Right’ you said with worry, remembering what Cillian had told you in the car. He was going back to filming in 6 weeks.

‘You honestly don’t need to worry about her Y/N. It was Cillian who ended it. Although I don’t know why he would even bother picking up her calls’ Leah explained.

‘I suppose my self esteem has taken a bit of a hit since these comments on Twitter so I worry about stupid things’ you said.

‘I think you need to stay of social media Y/N’ Leah said before changing the topic to a more pleasurable conversation.

Leah had recently found out that she was pregnant and was excited to add to her family with a third child.

After talking about kids, setting up nurseries and so forth, Leah asked you whether you had discussed this topic with Cillian.

‘Jesus, we’ve only just started dating. Despite, we have three kids between the two of us, that’s plenty’ you laughed, causing Leah to laugh as well.

After Leah went on to discuss schooling for her eldest son, you recalled that you did, in fact, have this conversation with Cillian but before you were dating.

You remembered him telling you that he was done with having children. He did not want any more but rather wanted to concentrate on bringing up the boys in the best possible way.

You also recalled him mentioning to you that this was a cause of conflict between him and his ex-girlfriend and you began to wonder whether this had anything to do with their breakup.

Trying not to ponder on about this too much, you caught up on the conversation you had with Leah about schooling.

You couldn’t even put your mind at the possibility of Max attending school any time soon but the truth was that it was only a year away.

After two hours had passed, you had to say goodbye to your friend Leah. After all, you had a date with your boyfriend that evening.

Date Night

Your plan was to cook for him and surprise him wearing some nice lingerie.

You weren’t really a good cook but decided to give it a crack anyway and make lasagne.

After you prepared the lasagne and put it in the oven, you had a shower, put on some make up and done up your hair.

You put on black lace lingerie with stunning satin stockings which were affixed to your waist.

Just as you finished the final touches, the doorbell rang.

‘Hi babe’ you said as you opened the door.

‘Fuck’ Cillian said in response, gazing over you in your black lingerie.

‘Hey, this is no way to speak to a lady’ you said, pulling him in for a kiss.

‘You look incredibly sexy in this’ Cillian said with wide eyes.

‘I know’ you smirked. ‘Common in before the neighbours see me like this’ you added.

‘Something smells…’ Cillian said as he walked inside and, as soon as he said this, you remembered the lasagne.

‘Burnt’ he added as he watched you race to the stove.

‘Goddammit’ you yelled as you opened the stove and took out the burnt lasagne in your sexy lace lingerie.

‘I wanted this to be perfect’ you said frustrated and upset, some tears running down your face, while Cillian looked around and saw that you had lid some candles and put on some slow jazz music.

‘Just being with you is perfect in itself’ Cillian said as he lifted up your chin with his thumb, gazing into your eyes before kissing you.

‘You are sweet Cillian’ you said, sinking into his arms.

‘Now do you want to tell me what’s really wrong, because you aren’t the type of woman who gets upset about some burnt lasagne’ Cillian asked as you walked over to the lounge and sat down.

‘The phone calls…You were so quiet after them and I know that it was your ex who rang. I couldn’t help but worry about whether you still have feelings for her. I mean, why did you even call her back?’ you said.

‘I can assure you that I don’t have feelings for her Y/N. In fact, I broke up with her because I didn’t love her and I felt as though I was wasting her time. She wanted children and marriage, none of which I was prepared to give her, so what’s the point?’ Cillian said.

‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ you asked.

‘Because I still have to work with her and because I fucked up, a few months ago. Even though this all happened before you and me got together, I had to think of a way to talk with you about this’ Cillian said.

‘You fucked up in which way?’ you asked.

‘We slept with each other. We both had too much to drink and it was a mistake’ Cillian said.

‘Cillian, Jesus’ you said annoyed.

‘She wanted to give it another try and I told her that I wasn’t ready for another relationship and, well, then I fell in love with you which doesn’t look very good now does it? So, I called her back that evening because I thought that I owe her at least an explanation’ Cillian said.

‘I love you Y/N. I never planned to fall in love with you, but I did’ he added.

‘Well, I can’t really be upset about a woman you’ve been with before me. But I don’t like the fact that you will be working with her again soon’ you said.

‘Neither do I, trust me’ Cillian said.

‘When you film, do you have any intimate scenes with her?’ you asked concerned.

‘One I think’ Cillian responded, causing your heart to drop and tears building up in your eyes again.

‘It doesn’t mean anything Y/N. It’s just acting’ Cillian said as he cupped your face.

‘It does to her’ you said.

‘But it doesn’t to me. I love you, not her, alright?’ Cillian said, causing you to nod.

‘In fact, I fell in love with you after our first night together, although I didn’t want to admit it to myself’ he added.

‘So did I’ you said before climbing across Cillian’s lap, facing him and pressing your lips onto his.

As you were exchanging passionate kisses, you rocked back and forward on top of him and began running your hands over your breasts suggestively.

‘This is very nice lingerie’ Cillian said as he couldn’t keep his eyes of your breasts.

‘Perhaps I should visit you on set one day, wearing this beneath my clothes and let Thomas Shelby have his way with me?’ you smirked jokingly, causing Cillian to laugh.

You had only recently began to watch Peaky Blinders and could certainly understand the fascination other women had with Tommy Shelby.

‘That could be arranged’ Cillian said as, suddenly, you found yourself beneath Cillian on the sofa.

Within seconds, his t-shirt fell to the floor, shortly followed by his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs.

‘Should we take this to the bedroom?’ Cillian asked between gentle kisses while he was running his hands over your breasts.

‘No’ you said as you pushed backwards a little, making him sit up.

‘Watch’ you said just as you stood up in front of him, beginning to touch your breasts and then slipping your hand into your panties.

Cillian’s eyes were on you, full of excitement, while his erection pushed against his briefs.

You seductively removed your bra and began playing with your nipples.

You could see in Cillian’s face that he wanted to touch you badly. He was desperate to feel your skin.

Just as reached his hand out towards you, you grabbed a pillow from the lounge and threw onto the floor in front of him.

Without words, you kneeled in front of him, right in between his legs. Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down and exposing his hard cock.

No time was wasted until you lowered your head and, while your hand held onto his thick shaft, your tongue licked the precum from the tip of his cock.

‘Fuck’ Cillian moaned as your mobile tongue slid over the length of his cock front and back before returning to the very tip, feeling him cringe and hearing him moan.

Your lips closed over the head of his cook and you began to slide your mouth up and down the smooth, sweet tasting skin of his shaft, loving the flavour of his pre-cum.

Meanwhile your tongue continued to swirl across his sensitive head and your hand pumped him while the other gripped his ass cheek, holding him in position.

Cillian gasped and moaned as he could feel every inch of your tongue lapping his head.

After about 10 minutes, it became more difficult for Cillian to hold back and he tried to look at the ceiling rather than you.

Another 5 minutes and this strategy was no longer working either.

‘Fuck Y/N, you need to stop’ Cillian said.

Giving him your most slutty look and not breaking eye contact, you slid your lips slowly down his length and back up, moaning around his thickness.

‘I want you to come in my mouth’ you said eagerly in between your movements. Up and down, making the most exquisite noises.

‘Oh God!’ Cillian cried, throwing back his head.

Shortly thereafter, you saw his knuckles go white with how hard he gripped to the blanket covering the lounge beneath him. Then, in what seemed like slow motion, you felt him spasm and the creeping approach of his cum up his cock.

With one loud moan, he filled your mouth with his sweet cum, the first bit of which almost instantly hit the back of your throat.

There was a fair bit more than you had expected but you managed not to spill a single drop.

‘Fuck’ Cillian shuttered as he came down from his high while starring at you, licking your lips seductively.

After you took a sip of your wine, you joined him back on the lounge, exchanging a passionate kiss.

‘Lie down’ Cillian whispered just as your lips drifted apart and he gently pushed your back into the lounge before taking his position in between your legs.

He pulled your lace panties down gently and placed your legs over his shoulders.

Cillian’s eyes were fixed on the junction between your thighs as he slid his head back down in between them.

As you felt his hot breath on your already wet entrance you couldn’t help it but moan.

His hands brushed over the lace tops of your stockings then the soft milky skin of your inner thighs just before you could feel his wet tongue run over your slit gently.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as his tongue entered you slightly while he pushed your thighs back tilting your bum towards him.

His tongue dipped in and out of you before it made its way to your already engorged clit, drawing circles over it.

For a moment you couldn’t help but arch your back and push against him, but Cillian pushed you back down almost instantly before slipping two of his fingers inside of you.

You let out what sounded like squirrel as his fingers arched upwards and hit your g-spot. He was the first man to have found this spot and you struggled with the intensity of the feeling when he stimulated it.

‘Just relax and let go’ Cillian instructed as he knew that, every time he reaches your sweet spot, you tense up.

You took a deep breath and let yourself get lost in the moment. His fingers thrusted in and out of you, continuously hitting this sweet spot of you, while his tongue continued to circle your clit.

You gasped loudly while you held onto the lounge and your body began to shudder beneath Cillian’s lips.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you.

Cillian slowed down his movements to let you come down from your high, his lips covered in your sweet juices.

‘You are so damn good at this’ you giggled as he climbed up and in between your legs.

‘So are you’ Cillian smirked before positioned himself in between your legs.

You couldn’t believe that he was already hard again as you felt the smooth head of this cock press open your labia and lodge in the opening.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as he began sliding his hardness into you until it was seated deeply inside.

‘Oh god’ you moaned, loving the feeling of him inside of you.

He allowed you to adjust for a moment before beginning to thrust into you gently.

As he was moving in and out of you at a reasonable he speed, he held you tight, pressing his body against yours while kissing you gently.

You felt suspended in this moment. Every cell of your body felt everything with every thrust and every kiss.

Slowly all the tingling pleasure began to gather together and concentrate in your core, moving down to center where your were so intimately connected.

You gasped and trembled as the intensity began to overwhelm your. Your hands clenched and tried to pull him even closer, trying to fit yourself into his skin.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you panted as your walls tightened and your orgasm engulfed.

Moving in sync with you, Cillian wasn’t far behind you and the tightening of your walls around him sent him over the edge.

Panting equally loudly he filled you with his warm cum.

After you both came down from your highs, you curled up with each other on the lounge, pulling the blanket on top of you.

After more gentle kisses and some talking about the situation with Sarah, Cillian ordered some take away and you watched a movie together before heading to the bedroom for some more intimacy and to catch up on your sleep.

Meeting Grandma (Again)

The next morning, you heard the door open at 7am. Your grandmother had a key and was dropping Max back from their trip.

‘Hi Nan’ you said as you walked out of the bedroom, wearing a t-shirt and some cotton underwear.

‘Hi darling’ she said, giving you a hug just as Max came out of the bathroom.

‘Mum, I was busting. I thought I was going to pee in nanna’s car’ he said causing you to laugh before giving him a big hug.

Just as Max disappeared into his room to unpack his bag and you sat down with your grandmother in the kitchen, Cillian walked in wearing nothing but his boxers.

‘Oh, uhm, hi’ Cillian said, his face flushing and your eyes widening.

‘Oh hello again Mr Murphy’ your grandmother said with a big grin as she looked up and down on him as if she was assessing him.

‘Excuse me, I will be right back’ he said slightly embarrassed, picking up his clothes from the living room floor on the way back to the bedroom and pushing your lace panties and bra under the lounge discreetly in the hope that your grandmother wouldn’t notice.

You certainly didn’t expect her to arrive so early.

‘So…’ you said, your face flushed, lost for words until your grandmother began to laugh.

‘Now, this just made my day sweetheart. Wait until I tell Erna, she will not believe it’ your grandmother giggled.

‘Nan! Please!’ you said with some embarrassment.

‘Oh darling, I am just kidding. I won’t tell Erna of course. But who doesn’t enjoy a bit of eye candy now and then, right?’ your grandmother said, making you flush even more.

‘Jesus, nan’ you laughed as Cillian came out of the bedroom, now wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

There was an awkward silence between you, Cillian and your grandmother as Cillian sat down at the table with you.

‘So, when is the next season of Peaky Blinders coming out?’ your grandmother asked to break the ice.

‘Not sure, but we start filming again in six weeks’ Cillian said.

‘So, you will be gone for quite a while I would assume?’ your grandmother asked concerned.

‘Four months. Although, I am hoping for Y/N to come and visit me in between’ Cillian explained.

‘You should be able to arrange that darling, right? And, while you are there, you and Cillian can visit your parents. Maybe they could even look after Max for a change and you can have a date night’ your grandmother said.

‘Your parents live in Birmingham?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod with a sigh.

‘Yes, about 20 minutes outside Birmingham’ you responded.

To be continued….

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine

187 notes · View notes

r0zyp0zy0zy · 3 years

Text

✾D.K- Two words: fuck, yeah★✶

Master list

Words: 2535

Warnings/kinks: Somnophilia(?), Exhibitionism(?), masturbation, Denki being a perv

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x reader

Summary: a sleepover with the squad, and Denki being horny

===NSFW under the cut===

Even if you didn't admit it aloud, you were glad Mina dragged you into her friend group. Even if you were in a different class, you still hung out with the group a lot. It took awhile to get used to since you didn't really have any friends before UA, even Mina; she was an acquaintance at most. So having four loud dudes, and an over dramatic Ashido, was a little much.

Kirishima was very patient with you, encouraging your social growth. Bakugo just never talked to you, Sero was like Kirishima and made sure to tone down his energy. Jiro was pretty quiet, but you loved listening to her music. And Kaminari on the other hand.. was a lot like Mina. Over-dramatic, loud, and energetic, oh and not to mention flirty.

In fact, the first words he said to you were, "woah, hey there beautiful."

Needless to say, you avoided talking to him as much as possible after that encounter with him, you didn't want to embarrass yourself. But after you saw him flirting with literally everybody, it gave you a bit of reassurance that he wasn't doing it just to you.

Over the course of six months, your bond grew stronger with the group, and you even started talking to Bakugo when he wasn't as moody. You were still flustered around Kaminari, trying to work up the courage to make him flustered.

"Pass the popcorn," Mina said to you, pulling you out of your daze.

"Oh— here," you handed her the bowl of popcorn. Only about half of the group was actually watching the action movie.

It was strange being in a boy's room, especially since you were sat on the bed with Mina. It wasn't too odd because it was Sero's. It was comforting, it always smelt like Rose incense, and the fairy lights gave it character.

"Y/n if you're not gonna pay attention to the movie at least let someone who actually is on the bed," Sero said with a raised brow.

"Sorry," you said, scratching the back of your head. You slid off the bed to switch spots with Sero, and realized that you were now sitting next to Kaminari. Ahaha, great.

"Oh hey cutie," he winked. He knew what he was doing. It gave him confidence that he was making a pretty person like you blush.

"Hey Buzzy," you replied with a nervous side-smile. You heard his breath hitch at the new nickname, something you came up with about a week ago after training.

As the movie progressed, you could feel Kaminari's gaze periodically land on your face. It made you self conscious, so you thew your hoodie hood over your head and pulled the strings tight. You heard a giggle from Kami.

"Well that was a boring ending," Kirishima said as he switched off the TV. "They could've at least left it on a cliffhanger."

"Well let's just get settled in, then," Sero said.

"I'm gonna go back to my dorm now. Thanks for the movie," Jiro said.

"Oh yeah, anytime," Sero replied.

Bakugo had also left for his room about an hour ago, already two hours past his typical bedtime. So it was just you, Sero, Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari. One for the hammock, two for the bed, and two on the floor.

"Who's sleeping on the floor?" Sero asked.

"Not it!" You and Kaminari yelled at the same time, pressing a finger to your nose.

"Not it!"

"..not it! Shit," said Kirishima.

"Well at least you won't be alone on the floor," Sero shrugged.

"I call the hammock!" Mina yelled, jumping onto the piece of hanging fabric.

...shit.

"Well beautiful," Kaminari said, slinging an arm over your shoulders, "looks like you and I will be talking the bed."

"Yeah," you grumbled. "Let me get changed, one sec."

You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathrooms. Of course. Of course this would happen to you. You had to sleep beside your unofficial crush! Wait— what. You let out a sigh at your self-confirmation, slipping on a white tank-top. Well, if you were going to try and fluster him, now would be the perfect time. You pulled on your silky black pyjama shorts, and took a slow spin in front of the mirror. You quickly fixed up your hair and brushed your teeth.

By the time you got back, everyone had changed into their sleeping clothes and were chatting away.

"Oh, y/n! We were just talking about how—" Mina got cut off.

"—how cool Hanta's twinkle lights are! See, they have three different colour settings," Kaminari interrupted, flicking through the settings.

Sero let out a chuckle as he fluffed out his pillow. You might be a little bit of an idiot, but you knew for a fact that they weren't talking about the lights.

Denki took in your sleep-ware, and his jaw nearly broke off the hinges. How on earth was he going to be able to sleep beside you when you were wearing that. True, your shirt had a few random stains, but did you not notice that you could just barely see your nipples through the white fabric?!

Kirishima gave him a quick nudge as if to say, "good luck, careful what you wish for".

Denki knew he shouldn't, but he really wanted to tell you how nice your nipples were. For once he kept his mouth shut, and crawled into Hanta's bed. You and him got separate blankets, but that wasn't enough to calm Denki down. He was going to be laying next to you, while you were wearing the most unintentionally sexy tank top ever. And those shorts... thank god those would be covered under the sheets.

"Ok, what were you guys actually talking about?" You asked, sitting against the headboard.

"We were talking about how Kami's gonna be sleeping with a girl for the first time!" Mina yelled before Denki had the chance to butt in.

Denki felt his face heat up as you started giggling.

"Lucky me," you chortled. You put your hands behind your head as the conversation continued.

"—yeah Denki, why do you brag about being so experienced, but you've never laid down beside a girl before?" Hanta teased, nudging Denki.

"Well you gotta have confidence! That's what gets all the ladies," Denki crossed his arms and stuck up his nose.

"Yeah? Where's your proof?" Kirishima prodded.

"Ok, fine. It hasn't worked.. yet!" Kami said, loosening his stance.

"Whatever you say, Denki," Mina giggled.

The four of them continued to talk for a while, you occasionally giving input. You were pretty drowsy, and remembered that you had barely any sleep the night before. You began to drift, still sitting against the headboard.

Denki let out a startled squeak as he felt a pressure land on him. You were asleep, head leaning on his shoulder, and he felt your arm slowly wrap around his, "uhh."

"Hahaha! Denki you're so red right now!" Mina laughed, hand on her stomach. He felt his cheeks with his free hand, and he was in fact blushing profusely. He leaned over to look at your sleeping figure, and couldn't help but stare at your chest. Your nipples.. were so.. perfect..

"Hello, earth to Kaminari!" Kirishima slapped Denki's leg.

"Ah— hmm?" Denki said, snapping out of his trance.

"You might wanna put a blanket over yourself," Kirishima nodded to Kami's lap.

"O-oh, right. Sorry," denki stuttered. He hadn't even noticed how hard he was, and since he was wearing sweats it was on full show. He quickly grabbed his blanket, and covered his lap. How awkward..

"Imagine if y/n knew what she was doing to you," Mina teased.

"You wouldn't," Denki gulped. No way would you forgive him if you found out.

"But I would," Mina smirked. "Unless..."

"Oh don't blackmail me, Pinky," Denki pouted.

"I wasn't finished!" Mina giggled. "Unless you grow a pair and take her out on a date."

"I-I can't," He started to panic. What if you said no? He didn't usually care about rejection, but with you..

"You've asked out literally every girl in our class, you shouldn't have a problem confessing to your actual crush," Hanta added.

"Ugh," Denki leaned his head back, "but it's different with y/n. I really like her, and I don't wanna fuck things up."

"Your choice," Mina shrugged with a sly grin.

"I'll think about it," Denki frowned. He was too conflicted to rejoin the conversation.

He felt you slip down his arm, and he tried to readjust you, and ended up with your head in his lap. Fuck, not what he intended to do. It felt so good to have some relief from his hard-on, but trying to restrain himself from jerking his hips up— fuck. He did not want you to wake up to him humping your head. He felt his cheeks get hotter, and took a deep breath.

He later managed to gently push you off of him, and covered you with your own blanket. He really needed to have a quick shower.

"Hmmph..?" You mumbled, gripping onto Denki's arm as he tried to escape. Shit.. so cute..

He sighed quietly, and decided to stay in bed. His erection would go away at some point. It was easy but difficult to sleep at the same time. On one hand, you were cuddling into him, and on the other, you were cuddling into him.

Fuck. Erection did not go away. Denki pulled out his phone and squinted at the time: 4:15am. He was now even harder than he was before, but he was still trapped. In fact, you had managed to sneak under his blanket and fully drape one arm over his torso. Shit, Shit.

Maybe he could just peel your arm away from him and— ah crap. Your thighs gripped his leg; another restriction. Denki could admit that he was really enjoying your attention, awake or not. The thought of your crotch so close to him made Denki whimper. He couldn't just go back to sleep, he would end up having a wet dream and horribly embarrassing himself.

Denki guilty looked over to Hanta's side table at the tissue box. He glanced at you again and took a gulp of air. Fuck, here goes nothing. He reached his free hand, (thankfully you only restricted his left), and pulled out a couple sheets. He laid them beside his hip for later. He slowly slipped his hand under his sweatpants, and began to pump himself.

Denki was scared shitless that you were gonna wake up and freak out. God, he was such a pervert. He focused on your thighs, and how wonderfully they felt clamped around his left leg. Your arm was still on his torso, loosely gripping onto his T-shirt.

He let out a soft sigh at the thought of you gripping his shirt as he kissed you, "a-ah~"

Denki shamefully glanced down at your relaxed face. Oh what he'd do for you to let him cum on your face. He picked up the pace, moving his gaze down to your chest. He let out a soft groan when he saw how hard your nipples were, breasts practically falling out of the tank top. He was getting close. Just a little longer.

"Oh fuck y/n, please," denki whimpered quietly, loving the way you shifted your position slightly, your hand falling down to rest on his stomach. He felt butterflies explode inside him, and he quickly grabbed the tissues and laid them on your arm.

"Hmgh," denki struggled. Your tits.. so close to him.. thighs.. oh fuck! He let spurts of cum land on the tissue, a little missing and landed on your hand.

His chest heaved as he tried to breathe properly again. He carefully folded the tissue and dabbed the drop of semen off your hand. He couldn't see the garbage from here, so he just stuffed it in his bag. He haphazardly put his dick away, and sighed contently. He couldn't believe he just did that. Needless to say, he had a good sleep after that.

You on the other hand, had woken up in the middle of Denki's activity. You weren't totally surprised that he did what he did, but you were surprised that he moaned your name, (and the fact that he basically jizzed on your hand). You couldn't help the heat that beat through your body, making you gently grind Kami's leg.

No, you thought. You aren't gonna do what Buzzy just did.

You had a bit of a restless sleep, waking up about every 30 minutes. When you finally did fully wake up, you realized that you were basically on top of Kaminari. Your left leg sprawled over his pelvis, and your left arm gently holding onto his broad shoulder. Just as you were about to try and get more sleep, you felt Kami stir awake.

"Oh fuck," he whispered groggily, using his left hand to stroke your hair/head.

"Oh hey Denki," Kirishima greeted, giving him a toothy smile.

"Hey," he replied, rubbing his eyes.

"L/n sure looks comfortable," Kiri teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I know," Denki groaned, "she was like this all night. Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"All night?" Kiri asked.

"Yeah, I basically couldn't move."

"Well good luck with that," Kirishima grinned, "I'm going to the gym with Bakugo, tell the others?"

Denki nodded as his friend left the room. You decided now was the time to 'wake up', and you shifted around your weight, "hmm."

"Morning miss cuddle bug," Kaminari said, grinning stupidly as you looked up at his face.

"Good morning," you mumbled, "sorry about that, I kinda latch on to anything in my sleep."

"Don't worry about it, it was nice," Denki blushed.

You peeled you leg off him, as well as your arm, "I'll be right back. Bathroom."

His eyes trailed your ass as you left the room.

"So Denki," Mina popped up, causing him to yell in surprise, "how was sleeping with y/n~?"

"Erm-" he started.

"I know what you did," Mina said evilly.

"W-what?!" Denki jumped out of the bed. "Please don't tell, I'll do anything—!"

"Denki I was kidding!" Mina interrupted. "I don't even wanna know what you did, you big perv."

He gulped nervously, "I-I'm gonna be right back."

Denki sped out of Sero's room, nearly bumping into you down the hall.

"Whoa, what's the rush?" You asked, now in a hoodie.

"Mina— was—," Denki huffed.

"Teasing? Typical," you rolled your eyes, "anyways, I need to ask you something."

Denki got nervous all over again. Ask him what? Why he jerked off last night? "O-ok, shoot."

"Did you know that you're super comfy? Like actually," you continued.

"Oh r-really?" He replied. What a dumb reply, at least say 'so are you' dunce face...

"Mhm! And something else," you licked your lips. "Can we cuddle again sometime?"

Denki practically choked on his saliva, "y-yes! Of course!"

"Cool," you smiled up at him, continuing your way back to Hanta's room.

Two words: fuck, yeah.

#anime #bnha #mha #denki kaminari #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari smut #denki x female reader

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

mingi x reader x wooyoung

word count: 25k

angst, smut

(part 1)

even before your relationship with wooyoung ended the way it did, you always wondered what drove people to cheat? did they just never care from the start, basing the relationship off lies and fake smiles, or did something happen down the line?

were there problems that only one person could see and didn’t feel comfortable enough talking about to the other? did they feel neglected or unloved, like they needed to seek out that affection and validation elsewhere?

or did they really just have no regard for another person, selfishly occupied with their own pleasures and needs while realizing, maybe, they didn’t care if they hurt the person or not.

if you asked your ex-boyfriend, he’d say it was none of the above - he’d say that it simply just happened.

that one second, he was in love with you and the next, he somehow found himself in a whirlwind of kisses and touches behind closed doors with someone who wasn’t you.

that while he knew it was wrong and unfair to you, a part of him felt like he couldn’t stop. like he could keep up this affair of being a sweet, loving boyfriend but also someone another person found desirable and attractive.

enjoyed the rush and thrill of doing something forbidden, even though it felt wrong.

but of course, he didn’t tell you any of this; you hadn’t talked to him since he cried outside of his dorm building begging you for another chance.

the same way you cried on the whole ride home and into your pillow that night, the night after that, and the night after that for about two whole months.

you can even admit, looking back at it now, eight months later, that you handled the breakup in a very cliche way: crying into a box of chocolates in bed and swearing that love didn’t exist. it was sad to you then, to believe so young that what you once felt was the best feeling in the world didn’t exist.

but the more time went on, the more you saw maybe you’d jumped the gun on that.

because just a few short weeks after the breakup, blocking wooyoung on every form of social media and telling your parents to never allow him in the house, you heard a knock at your door.

you approached it warily, eyeing the spray bottle on the counter and debating on arming yourself with that, before you saw a tall, familiar head through the glass window that definitely wasn’t your ex’s.

“how do you know where i live?” was the first question out of your mouth, not being able to keep the bite out of your tone or annoyance from crossing your face at mingi’s dejected form in front of you.

he had tried to talk to you the first few days after the incident, begging you to just hear him out and insist he never wanted you to feel stupid or in the dark; but that’s exactly how you felt.

how could you not, after knowing everyone in wooyoung’s life knew about him and lisa except you? everyone who saw you and him together, looked you in the face and smiled at you two together, while also being fully aware of what him and another girl were doing.

“nice to see you too,” mingi said, his hand toying at the back of his hair nervously, an awkward smile creeping up on his face as he tries to lighten the tense mood.

but you’re only a few weeks out of the gate of being cheated on and humiliated, the boy in front of you harboring that information until it all blew it up in your face in the most upsetting way; so you can only roll your eyes and slam the door in his.

or at least attempt to, before his foot slips through the open space and halts it.

“y/n, wait-”

“no, mingi. i have nothing else to say to you.”

“i know and i don’t blame you,” the boy says, his soft, kind voice a stark contrast to his large, looming appearance. “but you deserve an apology. just give me ten minutes to try and explain.”

you bite the inside of your cheek as you look up at mingi, annoyance flooding through your veins as you’re tempted to tell him to go fuck himself. that no explanation is gonna excuse him harboring that knowledge for months.

and he must know it too, because his face twists into one of remorse as he mutters a quietly spoken “please.”

and a small part of you knows he’s not the one who deserves this harsh reaction. he’s not the one who cheated and betrayed your trust; he had some allegiance to you, sure, being that he was your friend, but not as much as wooyoung did.

he didn’t promise to love you and assure you there was nothing to worry about that. that he only had eyes for you and wouldn’t even think about betraying your trust or affections. he didn’t look you in the face and promise he’d never hurt you because he loved you more than anyone.

and even so, he looks almost as pathetic and desperate as your ex did when he was begging you for a second chance.

“five,” you snap shortly, backing away from the door and watching as mingi’s eyes light up in surprise.

he gives you a small smile that would usually soften your heart but only proves to make you raise an eyebrow, leading him to the living room where he fills you in on the truth about the past six months.

how when they first kissed at a random party, wooyoung was shitfaced and didn’t even remember the next morning; it was lisa showing him a picture her friend had snapped in the span of a few seconds that reminded him, guilt flooding through him as he told the girl that could never happen again.

but it did end up happening again. when wooyoung wasn’t shitfaced and lisa was there in his dorm alone.

“he said that lisa was crying, something about feeling alone and upset, because all her friends had boyfriend’s and she felt like a single loser,” mingi says, remembering how down and confused his roommate was the next day when he came home. “and then before he knew what happened, she leaned in and kissed him and he...”

mingi looks up to gauge your reaction and sees you’re just watching him blankly, cold, emotionless eyes that don’t give away the fact hearing this is making you wanna cry and scream all over again.

“he was conflicted,” is what mingi decides on saying.

“not conflicted enough though,” you say, a mix of sadness and humor in your tone as you shake your head. “they were still fucking for two months after that.”

“they never fucked,” mingi is quick to clarify.

you raise your eyebrow and he nods his head as if to say it’s really true, your teeth sinking into your cheek again.

“they kissed and did...other shit,” mingi says, not thinking you wanna hear that wooyoung accepted far too many blowjobs from the girl. “but they never fucked. he said he...couldn’t.”

“wow. what a guy.”

you can’t even try to keep the dryness out of your tone and it causes mingi to press his lips together so he doesn’t smirk, instead looking over your face and frowning when he notices your eyes are puffy.

“i didn’t say that so you take him back or anything,” mingi says quietly, “i just... he told me all of this and i said he had to stop. that it wasn’t fair to you, even if it was just kissing and blowjobs.”

you wince upon hearing it put so harshly, mingi cringing as he realizes he let the details slip out.

“sorry,” he mumbles, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shake your head.

“it doesn’t matter. i’m over it.”

mingi’s eyebrow raises as he looks over your face again, not commenting on the puffiness under your eyes or the fact your hands are pressing into one another anxiously.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you,” he says after a few silent moments, his voice laced with such sadness and sympathy you can’t help but meet his gaze.

“i told him so many times to cut the shit, that it wasn’t fair and i was gonna tell you. but, really, a part of me felt like it wasn’t my place and i...i really just didn’t wanna make you sad,” he says, his voice and eyes honest and sweet even though you find his words incredibly stupid.

“i know that’s so stupid,” the boy acknowledges, a dry, humorless tone in his voice. “but i almost...wanted him to get caught, you know? so you saw it firsthand and realized, like, your worth, i guess. even though seeing that would’ve made you sad too, so i... i guess i really just don’t fucking know. i didn’t know what to do.”

and you don’t know if it’s because of his rambling or the absurdity of the situation but you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, air leaving your nose that has mingi looking at you in surprise.

“you’re right,” you say a smile quirking at your lips that has mingi looking over your face carefully. “that is stupid.”

“but it’s also stupid to be mad at you, i guess,” you say when he looks down in embarrassment, emphasizing your last two words sarcastically as you sit back on the couch and look him over. “wooyoung was the one who was supposed to be loyal to me, not you.”

“but kind of me, too,” mingi says softly, his arm reaching out to pluck a piece a hair off your shoulder absentmindley. his touch is gentle and warm and his long fingers linger on your skin, the move shocking you as much as it comforts you.

mingi had been touchy and affectionate after just a few weeks of you knowing him, one to pull someone in for a hug or wrap an arm around their shoulder opposed to a stiff, clammy handshake. it was something you liked about him immediately, how warm and innocently affectionate he was.

“wooyoung’s my friend but so are... so were you.”

you watch his fingers rest on the couch cushion next to you as you let out a small, shaky breath, something about his words causing you to look up and narrow your eyes.

“were?”

a pink, dare you say, nervous, blush crosses mingi’s face that causes you to hold back a laugh, his eyes wide as he shakes his head quickly.

“are. you are my friend,” he clarifies quickly, unsure eyes still roaming you. “i just...wasn’t sure if you still wanted to be.”

his stammered words coupled in with his pink cheeks and dark, wind-blown hair have a small smile stretching across your face, a sigh leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him and shrug.

“well, i guess i can’t lose you too, huh?”

you’ve never seen a smile as big as the one that crosses mingi’s face after you say that, his arm reaching out and pulling you into him; the boy really does underestimate his size and strength, though, dragging you right across the couch and straight into his hard body where he begins to stammer out more apologies.

“tell you what,” you say, craning your neck to look up at him. “the next time some asshole’s cheating on me, just tell me right away and i’ll accept these 200 apologies from you, yeah?”

“there’s not gonna be a next time,” mingi promises, his familiar scent and loud, happy voice bouncing off your living room walls. “because i’ll beat the shit out of anyone who hurts you again.”

you roll your eyes as you push him over on the couch, letting out one of your first genuine giggles in weeks as you watch him flop on the cushions like a fish out of water.

and you really think mingi’s what you got through the months that followed that conversation.

because if he wasn’t driving down every few weekends to hang out, you were texting and facetiming almost every hour of the day.

he helped you through the rest of your senior year, when senioritis hit it’s peak and you all but refused to do any homework or projects. he was the first person you called when you needed motivation (or distractions), talking into the wee hours of the morning or falling asleep on facetime together.

he was also the first person you called when college acceptance letters came in, his deep, happy voice expressing how he knew you were gonna get in.

“and you’re gonna go to the one only thirty minutes away from me, yeah?” he asked playfully, your eyes rolling as you plopped down on your bed.

“yeah, right,” you giggle out, looking over the three pamphlets as you, really, try to consider how to even begin the process of choosing.

that’s another thing mingi ended up helping you with, weighing the pros and cons of each school with you and even suggesting you drive up to him so you can tour the college close to his.

you don’t know for sure but maybe that’s why you ended up accepting that offer, after seeing the beautiful campus in person, the friendly students and ‘spacious’ dorm rooms that looked a whole lot better than two out of state schools you’d have to wait until the summer to see.

but if you asked mingi, he’d say it was absolutely because of him - because now you could see him every day. now he could easily help move you in and bring you lunch and show you the spots off campus where they never check ids or question a bad fake.

and while all of those were certainly helpful, you especially liked that, when classes started up and nearly knocked you on your ass, mingi was there to help you some more.

“you said professors were nice!” you squealed, hitting him in the arm as you two walked into a coffee shop smack in the middle of your two colleges; it’s also the coffee shop you waited pathetically in this past valentine’s day, but you try to let that painful memory slip your mind.

“hey! i’m sorry, most of them are!” mingi defends, his eyes widening and a laugh nearly bursting from his mouth when he sees the five syllabuses you throw onto the table.

“oh? then what is this?”

and sure enough, almost every class lists required textbooks costing over $150, several papers throughout the year, and a strict two-absence policy that will result in a whole letter grade drop if broken.

“and then if we miss because of a death in the family, we have to bring proof! what kind of sick shit is that?” you squeak, arms flying and eyes nearly bulging out of your head; if you were already this fucked after only a week of classes, you don’t even wanna know how you’re gonna be when real work starts.

mingi takes a hold of your arms to stop your flailing, his large, warm hands seeping through the sleeves of your shirt causing you to look up at him.

“babe...you gotta calm down.”

you don’t remember when he started dropping little pet names like that, or when his touches got more frequent and lingered, but you only know it’s something you guys don’t comment on. how, sometimes, both of you can even hear the others fastened heartbeat if you’re close enough or will meet gazes before shyly looking away.

you look up at him with a pout, the teasing smirk on his handsome face making you wanna stomp on his foot.

“i don’t wanna take a picture with my grandma’s corpse,” you whine, knowing that if anyone were watching you both right now, they’d think you were nuts.

“and you won’t have to,” mingi says, an inappropriate laugh bubbling from his mouth that causes you to smack his arm roughly. “why are you hitting me!” he yelps, a soft, amused smile on his face. “i’m trying to help you.”

and because you’re whining and he’s laughing, amused eyes locked on one another while his hands run up and down your arms soothingly, you both miss the fact that someone was around to see you both.

someone watching with hard eyes and a sinking heart at hearing your familiar laugh, at seeing your eyes twinged with amusement and happiness looking at someone who isn’t him.

but he knows he doesn’t deserve to see that anymore. that he ruined that chance with you and he shouldn’t even be surprised that you were able to move on to someone better.

even if that someone was his friend, a fact that’s making his blood boil right about now.

“you good?”

yeosang’s voice pierces wooyoung’s ears the second they leave the coffee shop, a knowing look on the boy’s face as the other can only shrug.

“yeah,” wooyoung says quietly, looking back through the window to see you dragging mingi to the counter by the hand.

your touches look comfortable and familiar, like you’d spent weeks, or even months, growing closer to one another; he knows that it takes you a while to warm up to people, only letting a select few in - which now probably worsened after the shit he did.

with that knowledge, he also knows that it doesn’t even matter if he wasn’t good (which he’s not, he feels it in the way his chest is aching and veins are burning) because he knew it was a mistake.

he knew sneaking around and lying to you was leading him down a path that would cost him the best thing that ever happened to him. he was the one suffering without you while you’re, apparently, able to move on.

and evidently, he’s also the one whose always been selfish - hoping that there’s a way you’ll somehow forgive him and see that, even though he wronged you, a part of him still wants you.

and he always gets what he wants.

“y/n, c’mon pleaseeee.”

it’s the eighth time mingi whined that sentence to you over the phone this week, a sigh leaving your mouth as you smack your hands onto your comforter.

“mingi, i’ve said the same thing for the past four days! what makes you think my answer’s gonna be any different tonight?”

the first month of school had, admittedly, kicked your ass.

it wasn’t even that the work was challenging or daunting, you liked what you were learning and you even made a few friends in your classes, but it just feels like you’ve never gotten a moment to yourself since this all started.

if you’re not surrounded by classmates or your roommate, you’re working at the coffee shop you and mingi frequented so much, they offered you a job. but with your roommate gone this weekend and you not on the work schedule till sunday evening, you intended to spend the next two days in bed.

catching up on shows, taking naps in between, taking some time to catch up on reading - you were only gonna move when your bladder and stomach begged you to, not a tall, whiney man.

“because i’m begging,” mingi sighs, knowing with 100% certainty you’re already curled up in bed with your laptop in front of you. “how many fucking times are you gonna rewatch love alarm?”

your mouth drops open as your eyes fall to the screen, jojo and sun-oh’s faces staring back at yours causing your cheeks to flush; how the hell did he know that first of all?

“until season two comes out,” you whine back, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth before he sighs. you roll your eyes at the sound, pushing yourself to your feet to grab water from the mini fridge. “if you wanna hang out so bad, come over tonight and watch with me.”

“you know i would but i already told people i was coming,” he explains, a pout on his face he wishes you could see in an effort to persuade you (even though you’d probably just curl your lip in disgust).

“then have fun and enjoy! i’ll be watching sun-oh whisk jojo away and-”

“i know why you don’t wanna go.”

the words die in your throat just as you hear him say that, his voice low and sympathetic that has you poking your tongue into your cheek; he only uses that voice when he thinks you’re about to be upset by something.

and it’s not hard for you to gather what he’s thinking, given that he wants you to go to your ex-boyfriend’s campus party.

“if you’re thinking what i think you’re thinking, then you’re wrong.”

because if he has this notion that you don’t wanna run into wooyoung, then yes, he’s wrong. sure, you don’t wanna particularly see him, but it’s been months. you’re over him and you know he’s over you, there’d be no reason to alter your life in hopes to avoid him.

“what do you think i’m thinking?”

“we’re not doing this, mingi,” you groan, pushing yourself away from the counter and heading right toward your warm bed. “i’m not going for no other reason than i wanna stay in my bed for the next two days. you can come over after if you want but i’m not setting foot in that disgusting frat house. have fun and don’t drink too much!”

and with that, you hang up and crawl under the blankets with a content smile on your face.

one that drops when you hear a knock on your door thirty minutes later, already knowing by the distinct pattern that it’s no other than the boy you hung up at the start of your episode.

“that was a quick party,” you say when you open the door, leaning against the frame as you stare at mingi with a raised eyebrow.

he looks the same way he did during the conversation that rekindled your friendship, his hand toying at the back of his hair and a nervous smile on his face.

“yeah...” he laughs out awkwardly, the stare he’s giving you causing you to shake your head immediately.

“you didn’t go, did you?”

“no. i wanted to pick you up first.”

he sees fury cross your face and your arm reaching out to smack him, his hand quickly catching it and pulling you into him.

“c’monnn, we’ll only stay for an hour. and then we’ll come back here and finish love alarm for the 700th time.”

your eyebrows narrow at you stare up at the boy, so annoyed at him ruining your night you don’t even realize how close your bodies are pressed up against one another. his hard, toned chest against yours that would, without a doubt, make you flush if you realized.

“please,” he whines, a pout on his face as he tightens his hold on you. “i don’t wanna go alone, i told them i was bringing a friend. and i miss you. we haven’t seen each other in a few days and-

“just shut up,” you growl, pulling him in your room by his shirt because you just know he’s fucking relentless. you close your laptop begrudgingly, throwing him a dirty look before you go to the closet to change out of your sweatpants.

“you should wear the jeans with the-”

the look you throw his way immediately causes him to stop talking, a smirk crossing your face as you turn away and curse him out in your head for looking so handsome, maybe you couldn’t resist walking in with him tonight.

but you also couldn’t resist the way your eyes roamed the crowded frat house forty minutes later, the familiar scent of alcohol and sweat invading your senses.

there’s just as many people as last year when you came, a sticky cluster of bodies that is all too off putting when you were just bound to your bed in pajamas and fuzzy socks.

you’re also all too aware of the setting that’s giving you flashbacks, beer pong tables and what seems like dozens of pretty girls with dark hair littering the house - it’s making you far more uncomfortable than you care to admit.

“y/n,” you hear a voice say, your neck turning toward the male presence. it takes you a few seconds to remember who he is, attractive features you remember thinking were so regal causing you to smile politely.

“you should tell him it bothers you,” you hear yeosang say, looking over at the boy with a wide eyed gaze. he says it so straight forwardly that it causes you to grow nervous, biting your lip before you open your mouth to speak.

“what?”

he raises his eyebrow and you know he’s seeing through your lie. the lie that you’re not all bothered by being here and watching him play with another girl. a girl you’re almost positive has ill-intentions. and now you see where yeosang’s bluntness comes in.

“that him and lisa make you uncomfortable,” yeosang tells you, looking over and seeing them smile at one another in victory. “because you’re worried, aren’t you?”

it’s the first time it’s been verbalized and it makes your stomach squeeze painfully, sadness and anger and disappointment flooding through you.

“should i be?” you squeak, since you know he sees you them a lot more than you.

“i don’t know,” he says, the both of you looking over in time to see lisa smack wooyoung’s arm playfully as she throws her head back. “should you be?”

that was the first and only conversation you had with the boy and yet he hinted more to you than anyone else in your life at the time; granted it was still early in but he had obviously saw something, too.

maybe a suspicious glint in wooyoung’s eye, lingering over lisa despite your presence a few feet away. maybe he could tell you weren’t gonna be enough to keep him loyal, maybe he-

you shake your head of these thoughts, reminding yourself that you’re over this.

you’re over him and the way he made you feel and everything about the whole breakup entirely; why would you want someone who, when it came down to it, didn’t want you back?

“hi, yeosang,” you say with a sweet smile, mingi greeting the shorter boy before someone else pulls his attention away. you let out a sigh and roll your eyes, a deep chuckle leaving the boy who pats the seat next to him.

he’s not surprised to see you but he is surprised that you came here tonight, of all places. where he knows wooyoung is lingering and knows when he sees you, he’s gonna come over with sorrow in his eyes and a voice to match.

ever since the breakup, yeosang had been the one there for wooyoung. he knew what the boy was doing was wrong, and he felt bad for you, but he also knew wooyoung could do anything and he’d still be there for him.

he could disagree with him and find his actions and decisions questionable but in the end, he’d be there for him.

that’s why he saw and tended to the breakdown wooyoung went through after everything happened. watched the boy become a shell of the person he’d been, no longer happy and bubbly and, instead, drowning his sorrows with alcohol when he wasn’t doing the bare minimum for school.

yeosang had to tell him more often than not, with some tough love, that he had ruined everything between you two. and for him to wish that he could talk to you or get another chance was incredibly selfish.

but through all of that, he was there for him. would stop him from drinking himself into a coma or take him out of the house to distract him any chance he got.

especially because a few weeks after everything, mingi had started distancing himself. the boys had still lived together until the semester ended in may, but it’d been obvious the boy wasn’t as...tolerant of wooyoung as he was.

and now he sees why. with the way mingi’s soft eyes are looking at you from across the room, watching closely as you sit down next to him and send a polite smile his way.

“so what, you loved these parties so much you decided to come to school here?” yeosang smiles teasingly, a deep chuckle leaving him when your face turns into a grimace.

you tell him how you go to the school just a half hour away, how it was the only school you were able to tour in person and how, with sinking suspicions, that mingi played a big role in you coming here.

“my roommate is so nice though,” you share with him, a happy smile on your face as you tell him about the girl whose face piercings and dark makeup are a complete contrast to her sweet, soft-spoken personality; you remember thinking when you first met that she was gonna rip your head off, especially because you came in jabbering with an even more excitable mingi.

but she loved him and you immediately and as far as roommates went, you couldn’t be happier.

“and i work at a coffee shop now. i was a little thrown off the first few weeks but i think i’ve finally adjusted,” you giggle out, a small smirk on his face that you find far too endearing.

“that’s good,” yeosang says before he reluctantly adds, “i’ve seen you working there a few times.”

“oh?”

your eyebrows pull together as you cock your head to the side in confusion; you’d never seen him in there before. and you think you would’ve recognized him immediately, even outside of this sleazy frat house.

“yeah, the first week of classes we were there and saw you and mingi,” he says, “then i went back and saw you working behind the counter.”

you don’t comment on the we, because you have a good feeling about who he’s talking about, so you only nod and smile, telling him to say hi next time and you’ll give him a cookie on the house.

“i know she didn’t just offer you a free cookie,” mingi says, plopping down next to you and throwing his arm around you. “i ask all the time and she laughs in my face.”

“because you come in every day!” you squeal, smacking in the stomach lightly. “they’d go broke and i’d be fired.”

“you’re a grimy fuck to even ask,” yeosang says, a laugh bubbling out of your mouth at the look on mingi’s face. you listen to the boys bicker back and forth as your eyes roam the room, everything about the scene so familiar but also different.

you don’t feel uncomfortable or nervous for the same reasons you did a year ago, when the music was too loud and the scent was overwhelming and there were just too many people.

now you’re uncomfortable and nervous about just who’s lingering in this crowd, like you’re about to be met with something, or someone rather, that’s gonna hurt you.

even though you’ve convinced yourself that you’re okay and you won’t care. you won’t care in the slightest if you see lisa under wooyoung’s arm across the room, if you see now that those months really did mean something to them and they were able to prevail.

nope. it won’t bother you at all; in fact, you think two people like that probably deserve each other.

but your roaming eyes say otherwise. the nervous knot in the pit of your stomach and the way you press yourself closer to mingi (in a way he doesn’t comment on but welcomes) says if you see them together, you might lose your shit just a little bit.

“you good?” mingi asks lowly in your ear, his large hand falling onto your knee. you feel the warmth through your jeans and the indents of his rings against your leg, looking up at him with a forced, tight smile.

“i’d be better if i was in bed like i planned,” you say through clenched teeth, a deadly look in your eye that should make him fearful but just makes him laugh.

“oh, c’mon, aren’t you having fun? you got to see your old friend-”

“yeosang.”

and like the universe was showing mingi just how much fun it was allowing you to have tonight, a voice that makes your blood run cold finishes mingi’s sentence.

your eyes snap to the boy you haven’t seen in over eight months, a face that once made you so stupidly happy with his wide smile and sparkling eyes; you remember when you first met him, you were so confused by the look them.

why he looked at you so fondly and made your heart flutter even though it shouldn’t have been.

and that’s the exact feeling you’re getting right now, seeing the boy who, the last time you looked at him was crying and begging and desperate, look at you with glossed over eyes and not a hint of a smile.

“hey, woo,” yeosang says, noticing his friend’s lingering gaze and your obvious discomfort; he doesn’t think an atmosphere has ever gotten so tense so fast.

it takes him a second to stutter out the response “hi,” his eyes moving from yours to mingi’s hand on your leg before back to you. you can’t help the way you quirk an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to say something about mingi’s hands on you before he shakes it off and looks to yeosang.

you only listen to the boys speak as you look down at your feet, mingi’s arm tightening around you when you start to wiggle them. it’s a nervous habit he’s picked up on after these months of getting to know you and, apparently, he’s not the only one who remembers it.

“you do that every time i sit next to you.”

you peer up at the senior who’s insisted on spending lunch with you for the past three weeks, the ever-present teasing smile on his cocky face making your eyebrows pull together.

“do what?”

he nods his head down to the floor where you’re tapping away, toes wiggling in your shoes as the balls of your feet bounce up and down slightly.

your cheeks flush and you shrug your shoulders, not wanting him to know that, while you’re confused by his company, it doesn’t make you any less aware of how attractive he is. doesn’t make the stupid little crush you’ve developed on him any less intense or you any less nervous.

“oh,” you say quietly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks that makes his teasing smile widen.

“yeah, oh,” he mocks, his eyes lighting up with amusement you know it’s directed toward you. you narrow yours at him but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest, his foot hitting yours under the table playfully.

“it’s okay, i think i just make you a little nervous.”

“nervous?” you ask, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shake your head. “why on earth would i be nervous?”

and with a playful cock of his head, a smile on his face that only grew softer and sweeter over time, he so boldly said “because you like me too, don’t you?”

you catch wooyoung looking at your feet and immediately stop bouncing them, putting your right sneaker over your left before looking up at mingi with a small smile.

“i’m gonna go get a drink.”

“i’ll come with-”

“it’s fine, it’s right there,” you say, nodding your head into the kitchen only a few feet away.

you leave before mingi can even respond, quickly getting up and scurrying away from the tense atmosphere you know is partially because of you. you need to just get away from all of that for a second, knowing that this was a possibility tonight but didn’t think it would happen so fast.

it’s easy to think you’re over something when you’re not presented directly with it but, now, seeing him makes all those masked feelings come to the surface.

how hurt and betrayed and upset you were by what he did. how you tried to convince yourself that you were over everything simply because you know you deserve better; and while you know that, it still doesn’t quell the memories.

doesn’t stop you from thinking about the nights before he went away to school, the two of you under the stars when he assured you he loved you and didn’t wanna break up with you. teased you for thinking he’d wanna break up with his high school girlfriend when he went off to college.

“i don’t wanna break up,” you whimpered against him, your hands fisting his grey sweatshirt as you hid your face in his neck. he pressed a kiss to your head, bringing a hand to your back as he rubbed up and down soothingly.

“who said anything about breaking up, my love?” he cooed, the term of endearment causing your stomach to swoop.

“i-i just assumed you wouldn’t wanna be with your high school girlfriend in college,” you say quietly against him. “it would make sense, i guess, so i can’t say i blame you but-”

he brings your face to his as he places a firm kiss on your lips, melting into you as he palms your cheek softly. you kiss him back immediately, feeling your heart break at the thought of never being able to do this again.

“i don’t know why you’re thinking like that,” he mumbles once he pulls back, running his hand through your hair before tucking the strands behind your ear. “but get those thoughts out of your head. i’m not breaking up with you, baby. in case you forgot, i just told you i loved you the other day.”

“i know but-”

“but what?” he asks with a smirk, pushing you down on your back and rubbing the stray tear off your cheek. “you think i just say shit to say it?”

“no, but-”

“then stop. i’ll tell everyone at college i have a high school girlfriend and they won’t have shit to say about it.”

it doesn’t stop you from remembering how much his voice and eyes used to calm you, how, in a setting like this, one look from him would completely put you at ease and make you feel better.

“y/n.”

you immediately grow tense at wooyoung’s voice saying your name, not having heard it fall from his lips in what felt like forever.

you’re debating whether you even wanna turn around and look at him again, knowing you can just go on your way and completely ignore him. knowing you should go on your way and completely ignore him.

but instead you turn to him and give him a blank look, waiting for him to say something else before you turn back and rummage through the cooler for a soda. your hand searches through the freezing ice for a red can of coke, the tips of your fingers growing numb as you fish through the water.

partially because you can’t find one and partially because you don’t wanna turn back around and face him.

“you drink now?”

your neck cranes up to look at wooyoung, his eyes soft and curious as he looks down at you. you hate how your body still responds to him, how he still looks so handsome but also like he lost a little bit of weight.

you hate how a part of you is concerned about that, wondering if he hasn’t been eating well or is doing drugs harder than pot.

“no,” is all you say shortly, deeming your efforts for a soda useless and shaking the wetness off your hand. your eyes fall to his empty ones and you raise an eyebrow, surprised not to see some sort of can of alcohol near him.

“i don’t really drink anymore,” he offers after a few silent seconds, your eyes raising to his before mingi’s voice plays in your mind - “wooyoung was so shitfaced the first time they kissed, he didn’t even remember. he didn’t know until lisa showed him a picture.”

“i didn’t really ask,” you say before you can stop yourself, his face falling before a sigh leaves his mouth.

“i guess i deserve that,” he mumbles lowly, your teeth sinking into your cheek before you turn to leave.

you begin to wonder why mingi and yeosang let him follow you in the first place before you feel a hand lightly touch the back of your arm, your neck snapping back and arm pulling away when he mutters your name pleadingly.

“how have you-”

“we’re not doing this.”

“i just wanna talk, y/n,” he says quietly, the sad desperation obvious in his tone. “i haven’t seen or talked to you in months.”

“and why is that, woo?”

you don’t even mean for the nickname to fall from your lips but it does, twists his stomach in a way that makes him feel even more shitty and defeated and guilty.

tears prick your eyes as you realize you haven’t said that name since febuary, his own softened gaze on you making you shake your head and take a step back.

“if we could just talk for a few-”

“we’re not doing this,” you repeat firmly, taking a step away from his looming presence. “i wasn’t even supposed to come tonight.”

“but you came with...mingi?” he asks lowly, like spitting the boy’s name out was the hardest thing he had to do in months.

but you bet what you had to do over these past few months was harder.

finish school while also dealing with the heartbreak that comes with being betrayed in such an awful way. building back up your confidence and worth and trying so hard to convince yourself you didn’t do anything wrong.

that’s why you narrow your eyes at him and shake your head, holding back the slew of curse threatening to leave your mouth.

“yeah. i did,” you say confidently, your eyes roaming back to mingi to see him making his way over to you. “and i’m sure there’s someone waiting around here for you, too.”

you watch his face crumble and mouth open to speak but you’re quick to shake your head and walk to mingi, rage filling your chest when you feel wooyoung’s warm, strong hand grab you by the wrist.

“y/n, wait-”

“don’t touch me,” you spit out, ripping your arm away from him harshly.

you can see he regrets the movement the second you look at him but can’t find it in yourself to care, giving him one last look before walking over to mingi - his face, too, is apologetic but much more fearful than your ex’s.

“he said he was going over to-”

“love alarm. now. before i bash your head in and never agree to anything ever again.”

“we’ll pick up snacks,” he says, a hesitant, happy smile creeping up on his face despite your unwavering expression. “my treat.”

“no shit your treat,” you grumble, your hand snaking through mingi’s larger one as you pull him out of the frat house into the cool, fall air.

it’s the much needed crispness you need after the sweaty, tense air you were just subjected to, you and mingi hand in hand as you walk to his car parked a few blocks away.

there’s only a few moments of silence before he addresses the elephant in the room.

“did he say something to you?”

you look up to see mingi staring at you with a soft expression, a sigh leaving your mouth as you nod your head. he stops you both from walking, his hand moving to your hip as you two stand in the street.

there’s a soft glow on him cast from the street light, his eyes roaming your face making his heart pang in your chest. he can see your tense and upset right now, your lips rolling over one another like when you’re trying not to cry or scream.

“are you okay?” he asks softly, a question that would usually make you roll your eyes making your face soften; you know the boy has his faults, a little confused and naive and doesn’t always make the right choices, but he always means well.

he truly cares for people and doesn’t like seeing them sad.

“i’m okay,” you confirm with a small nod, a tiny smile pulling at your lips. “i...it’s over now, you know. it’s different seeing him after all this time. harder than i thought, really, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

mingi nods his head as he squeezes your hip lightly, taking your hand back in his. they swing playfully in between your bodies, a touch that seems very juvenile and platonic filling you with a warmth you don’t think you should be feeling yet.

you told yourself to wait a year. you even heard somewhere that, for as long as you’ve been with someone in your younger years, you should try to be single for the same amount of time afterward.

take a moment to focus on yourself and ‘soul search’ for the things you want in life.

but having mingi by your side has made that goal harder, or maybe easier depending on how you look at it; especially because his touches linger and make you want more. his eyes watch you so softly and the smile that lights up his face when he first sees you makes you happier than you’ve been in a while.

“we’re not friends with her anymore.”

you don’t expect him to say that but it makes your eyes widen.

because for as long as you guys have discussed wooyoung and the situation, neither of you have ever addressed lisa directly. where she is now or if they remained friends - you told him a million times that you didn’t care.

and even after seeing wooyoung tonight, you want that to still ring true; but again, your actions don’t match your thoughts.

“oh?”

“yeah. a few weeks after that happened, woo refused to be in the same room as her. said it made him sick.”

a scornful laugh threatens to leave your mouth at that, since the last time you’d seen them together, their tongues were down each other’s throats and he was mostly definitely not sick by it.

“anytime we were with her and her friends, he’d leave and say he didn’t wanna be around her. then he just started to avoid us so we eventually just cut them all off. we didn’t really like them anyway, to be honest.”

it takes you a few moments to process his words but it proves to just be too much for your emotionally drained, distraught mind.

“why are you telling me this?”

mingi’s hand tightens ever so slightly on yours as you two continue to walk, his thumb rubbing against your cold skin as the silence remains.

you can only hear the gravel beneath your feet and the last few cicadas that can stand the crip fall weather, looking ahead in the darkness and wondering if he’s ever gonna answer you.

“because he’s waiting for you.”

your feet halt and you look up at him, eyes wide and shocked as he looks down at you. you can’t quite make out the expression on his face, maybe something like fear or hesitance that makes your heart lurch.

“he...told yeosang he wants you to forgive him. and to give him another chance.”

a little bit of every emotion rips through you at this knowledge, rage and annoyance and outrage but also a little bit of sadness you’re not ready to address.

“he’s got balls, i’ll give him that,” you mutter, a smirk quirking on mingi’s lips as he nods his head. he doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything, torn between his lasting bits of loyalty to wooyoung but his feelings for you.

because over these past few months, he’s wanted nothing more than to kiss you and hug you and make you see you can trust him - not only as a friend but a boyfriend.

a much better boyfriend than the one you had; but he understands you need a friend and he’s okay with that - more than okay, really. though the looks you give him make his heart pound just a little harder, like when you lean your head on his shoulder during a movie or play with his fingers until you fall asleep on his lap.

“but...i think there’s better people out there for me,” you say quietly, head cocked to the side as you start to toy with his long fingers. it’s flirty and daring and maybe a little vengeful after your conversation with wooyoung but you also know it’s genuine.

that the feelings you have for mingi and the way he makes your chest warm is very much so real.

“don’t you think?”

a smile lights up his face and he has to tell his heart to calm down before it explodes, a knowing glint in his eye as he looks over your face and nods his head.

“i do think,” he says, tapping you on the tip of your nose in a way that makes you giggle. you watch as he turns and bends down, a smile lighting up your face as you immediately move to jump on his back.

“now what snacks do you want for tonight, little one?”

the next three weekends you’re deemed safe from any college parties, either your shifts at the coffee shop or mingi’s school work keeping you free from his whining or incessant phone calls.

but the second you heard a knock on your door one saturday night, your movie on in the background and popcorn popping in the microwave, something tells you that you’re fucked. that you’ve steered clear of that sticky, overcrowded house for far too long, and it’s like the tall, handsome boy at your door has realized it.

“you’ve evaded me long enough.”

“sadly, i don’t agree,” you respond dryly, a smirk on the boy’s face as he lets himself in before you can close the door. you let out a groan as he helps himself to your freshly cooked bag of popcorn, throwing the pieces in his mouth as he tells you to get dressed.

“now why would i do that?” you ask, hands on your hips and a snippy tone already in your voice.

but it doesn’t deter mingi in the slightest; if anything, it almost eggs him on even more. his eyes squinting before he abandons the popcorn and charges toward you, large hands gripping your waist as he guides you to your closet and tells you to change.

the deep, commanding tone in his voice should make you angry. it should make you roll your eyes and tell him he’s not the boss of you. that you have no intentions of going out and he could either leave or stay for the movie.

but it’s the contrast of that and the sweet look in his eye that always gets you. how he can be tough and commanding but then cute and playful.

it’s always what gets that feeling of electric between you, his body looming over yours and eyes staring up at one another challengingly. a part of you always wants to tell him to fuck off but then know you wouldn’t be able to handle the sad, mildly pathetic look on his face.

“it’s halloween-themed. but no costumes,” he says, tightening his hold on you and toying with the ends of your white t-shirt. “so match with me.”

your hands travel to his broad shoulders, his muscles under your hands affecting you far more than you’re leading on. a part of you wants to feel just how warm and soft his skin is, trail your finger over his collarbone until he groans or warns you to watch it.

your nails dig into his back ever so slightly, your brow cocked and head turned to the side as you slowly start to step closer to him. his knees hit your bed frame just as you push him back, his butt plopping on your comforter as you stand in between his legs.

“no,” is all you say, a knowing smirk on your face as you watch his eyes flame with something like arousal and disbelief.

he shakes his head and watches you walk to your closet, throwing himself back on your bed with a silent groan and a plea that, tonight, you don’t push him too much.

but a few hours into the night, a few too many beers in mingi and your own growing attraction toward him has the night leading in that direction.

you knew mingi was a good dancer, something you learned at one of these parties last year. it was the only thing that made you smile on those nights actually, watching the boy go from bumping and grinding to jumping around like a kid with a sugar high.

and lucky for you, tonight, he was going with the former. his body placed behind yours, not a stitch of alcohol coursing through your veins, as you guys dance and giggle and and talk to a few people from his classes.

it’s something very casual, nothing innately sexual about your moves other then your bodies are close and you can feel his groin against you. but you’re both just moving to the beat, your head thrown back on his shoulder as a girl tells you all about mingi’s public speaking skills, or lack thereof.

“he gets sooo red it’s actually kind of cute,” she tells you, the wink she throws your way making you both share a smirk; because anyone with eyes can see that, embarrassed or not, terrible at public speaking or not, he’s cute.

“ehh, he’s okay,” you tease lightly, his hold on your waist tightening. you squeal when his cold hand touches the sliver of skin exposed from your shirt, elbowing him lightly before turning around and poking at his cheek.

“what?”

“i’m okay?” he mocks, the look on his flushed face making you giggle into him.

“well, what do you want me to say?” you ask, cocking your head to the side in a way you know is gonna cause trouble. but you wanna push him to that point, the excited warmth fluttering in your chest when he looks at you in a way that makes you feel wanted.

you hadn’t been able to see it at first, mingi’s clear affection and liking toward you meanwhile he thinks it was there even when you were with wooyoung; but of course, he knew better than to act on it, watching your smile and laugh from afar and hoping that wooyoung knew how lucky he was.

because he’s pretty sure since the moment he met you, when you came in holding wooyoung’s hand with a small, shy smile on you flushed face, he even wanted you then.

but now, it’s like the roles have switched. now, there’s a very drunken, very pissed off wooyoung standing across the room wishing he could be the taller boy.

he’d been watching you two since the moment you arrived, what sparked the alcohol he guzzled down in a matter of a few hours after he told himself he was done drinking.

yeosang told him to stop drinking beers so he moved to shots and that’s why he’s currently stumbling around and muttering under his breath, already the defeated, shitfaced boy no one wants to be at a public event.

he knows he shouldn’t feel it, the anger brewing inside his chest at seeing you and mingi pressed up one another flirting. but he is. he’s so fucking mad and jealous and seething, it’s only a matter of time before the slightest bit of sanity he has left breaks.

makes him stomp over and grab you in a way he knows isn’t right. in a way he knows will make you hate him even more; but maybe that’s why he does it. just completely self destructing because seeing you again, and seeing you with someone else, has really put things into perspective for him.

that he’s not the sweet, perfect boyfriend he thought he was and, instead, someone very flawed and toxic. someone who hurt you and is now expecting a second chance solely because he loves you.

someone who, after seeing his ex girlfriend try to move on and build up her confidence again, ends up stumbling over and grabbing her by the arm anyway.

one second you’re looking up at mingi and smiling and the next your neck nearly snaps off, looking down at the tight grip on your arm as you hear a familiar voice growl to the taller boy that you and him need a minute.

you don’t know why or how mingi allows it to happen but suddenly, you’re outside. the cold air surrounding you does nothing to calm your burning veins, ripping your arm from wooyoung’s grasp and pushing him back with all the strength you could muster.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, not even have spotted the boy all night. “i told you not to touch me.”

“i know you did. and i know you hate me. and i also know i deserve that but-”

“no shit,” you snap, taking a step backward and looking the boy up and down who you barely recognize right now. he still looks like the person you once loved but his demeanor is so incredibly different, eyes hazy and bloodshot from the alcohol you can smell on his breath.

“i miss you,” he mutters lowly, the drunken slur to his words making your stomach twist. “i just...i just wanna talk, y/n and if you still-”

“i don’t wanna talk to you.”

and if wooyoung was sober and in the right frame of mind, he wouldn’t have approached you to begin with. he wouldn’t have dared put his hands on you again and begged you for a second chance like he did that fateful afternoon.

but because he’s a mess, because he’s been a mess for the past several months, he looms over you and keeps his eyes on you as the next words leave him.

“but you wanna talk to mingi?”

“don’t you dare start that shit,” you spit out, every angry, red-hot emotion searing up in your veins - but you’re happy it’s not tears, at least. you think if you cried in this man’s presence again, you’d have to hide away for the rest of your life. “you don’t get to do that.”

“i don’t get to feel jealous that i can’t talk to the girl i lov-”

and similar to the slap you gave him that day, when you walked in and saw another girl in his lap, you can’t stop yourself when you do it this time either. have him taint that word and feeling for you anymore than he did when he lied to your face for months.

“it’s your fucking fault, wooyoung. you did this. you cheated on me and completely proved that that’s not true,” you snap, anger-filled eyes burning into his. “so don’t say that to me.”

“you don’t know what i feel,” he counters lowly, a slur to his words that has you knowing this is not the time for this conversation.” i’m telling the truth.”

he stumbles closer to you and you’re so focused on staring him down that you don’t see his hand move to your waist.

“you don’t know how much i fucking regret it. please, baby, if you’d just-”

“get away from me.”

“get away from me,” you say, attempting to rip your hands from his grasp. but he only tightens them and brings you closer to him.

“just please, give me five fucking minutes, y/n, so we can finally-”

“if you just listen to me, maybe you’ll-”

“stop,” you say, struggling to pull your hands free. you need to get away from him. you can’t hear him sound this pathetic and sad and begging.

“stop. let go of me, wooyoung,” you say, voice firm and strong despite how shaky and upset you’re getting on the inside. the familiarity of this scene is too much, his desperate pleas and your building sadness and hurt making a lump form in your throat.

“did you know i was drunk when it first happened?” he slurs out, his glossy eyes looking at you with such pathetic desperation. “i didn’t even know what the fuck happened the next morning. i didn’t remember anything, not even how i got home.”

you swallow down any response regarding the first incident, feeling tears burn your eyes as you shake your head at him; you can see she completely took advantage of him but...

“but what about the time after that? and then the time after that?” you ask, watching as his face falls and you feel heart break in a way it hasn’t in months; he may be telling the truth about the first time but if that really were the case, it wouldn’t have happened when he was stone cold sober on a friday morning.

“what about those two months after, wooyoung?” you voice aloud, begging the tears behind your eyes not to fall. “were you shitfaced then?”

“no but i-”

“exactly,” you spit out. “you knew what you were doing then. so get the fuck off me and leave me alone.”

“i can’t, please just-”

“wooyoung, stop.”

it’s mingi’s deep voice that pulls you and wooyoung out of the heated discussion, your ex tightening his hold on you and attempting to pull you behind him.

he doesn’t wanna lose you yet, you’ve been gone for months. even if you’re fighting and even if you hate him, he’s selfish and he needs you. he wants you still.

“you stop, mingi,” wooyoung growls, a new type of anger flooding through him. he releases his grip on you and stumbles toward the much taller boy, seemingly unfazed by the size difference as he shoves him back.

“if anyone should be pissed here, it’s me. stealing my fucking girl like some little bitch.”

“she’s not your girl anymore,” mingi says lowly, his eyes and body tense as he stares down wooyoung. “if you weren’t shitfaced right now, you’d remember that. and you’d remember why.”

“you’re such a-”

“enough, woo,” you say quietly, the nickname that rendered him hurt three weeks ago when you said it making him snap his head back to look at you; and before you can see his softened, glossy eyes, you warn him to never do this again before you turn to go home.

you hear footsteps follow behind the whole way, knowing that it’s mingi and knowing that his head is probably trained on his feet right now. you don’t stop walking until you’re at his car in the campus parking lot, leant against the side and looking up at him for the first time in twenty minutes.

he sees unshed tears in your eyes and his face immediately crumbles, about to take you in his arms when you hold out your arm and shake your head.

“please... don’t ask me to come to another one of these.”

guilt immediately consumes him and his adams apple bobs, a quick nod of his head before he pulls you into his chest. you sniffle against his shirt and inhale his scent. you couldn’t help in the beginning but compare him to wooyoung, the different smell of his cologne and broader chest under your head.

it was a good different but you hate that, even after an exchange like the one you and him just had, your mind still goes back to wooyoung; you still think about him and compare them and maybe that’s why you’re crying right now. too

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” mingi mumbles against your head.

you don’t even realize there’s tears on your face until he pulls back and wipes at them, that broken feeling within your chest so painful it feels like you’re about to collapse.

“i hate him, i really do,” you whimper out, shaking your head and wiping at your red face. “i...why did he do it? i thought i was over it, mingi. why am i not...” your voice breaks and you shake your head, struggling to breathe and get the words out in the cold air. “i fucking hate him.”

mingi can only hold you and rock you gently, his warm arms never leaving you as he tries to mend your broken heart. it’s something he’s been trying to do for months and will continue to do, wanting nothing more than for you to be free from the damage wooyoung did.

and if it were that easy, he’d be able to look at this moment in a few months time and see this was when his love and affection for you shined through and helped you. helped you see that there are other people who want to help you and be there for you, who will try their best to treat you better than the boy who hurt you.

but, unfortunately for him, things are never that easy.

you threw yourself into work and school in a way you’d never done before.

if you weren’t doing study sessions with a few people from your classes or spending nights in the library, you were busting your ass cleaning tables and dealing with overly nice college kids who attempt to make up for the mean and bitter middle-aged.

true to mingi’s promise that october night, he never asked you to go to another party again; instead, he’d crash your movie nights afterward, only ever staying at the frat house for an hour or two because “they get old real fucking quick.”

but he never says the same thing about your friday and saturday nights, even though they religiously consist of laying in bed, eating junk food and watching cheesy romantic dramas.

so whether you were taking pity on him or your study groups pleas to meet them at a bar down town finally got to you, you were en route with mingi and a far too chatty uber driver for a night of “much needed fun and drinking,” as one of your friends put it.

“i’m kind of scared,” you mumble to mingi, a smile pulling at his lips at your innocent confession. you’ve never been to a bar before, let alone one that is known to serve under age kids and is raided by the cops monthly.

“i’ve never been here but i’ve heard it’s fun. the music is pretty good and there’s a live band that-”

“are you two a couple?”

you and mingi eye each other suspiciously, a smirk playing on both your lips at the man’s awkwardly blurted out question. it’s almost as awkward as you saying yes when mingi says no, the taller boy’s face falling as his head snaps to you.

“wait...i mean...yes?” mingi says, hand going over your mouth as you hold back a giggle.

you both hear the man laugh out a response, you far too consumed by mingi’s shocked face while he’s still trying to process why the hell you had said that. he can see it’s all teasing and fun though, a glint in your eye that makes it obvious you were only saying that to quell an uncomfortably nosy question.

but he’s not ignorant to the fact of how much he wants that to be true.

“why would he even ask that?” you giggle out as you two walk into the bar, not a bouncer or real id in sight. “right in the middle of our conversation, no less. what a weird thing to do.”

a smile creeps up on mingi’s face as he already sees the effects of your three spiked seltzers from back in your dorm, his hand brushing your hair behind your ear. his eyes linger on your pink cheeks and he has to stop himself from laughing, the two of being pulled from the moment just as it started.

“maybe because he thought we looked-”

“y/n!”

the familiar squeal of your lab partner’s voice causes you to jump, mingi’s body still close to yours as you say hello and introduce them to each other.

“for tonight, this is mingi, my boyfriend,” you tease, the wink you throw his way causing him to shove you playfully.

the girl can only watch with a smirk, knowing that when she drags you to the bathroom in 20 minutes because she broke the seal, she’s gonna have to ask you all about that.

“hi mingi, boyfriend of the night,” she says, the shy but handsome smile he throws her way all too endearing. her hands falls into yours as she beckons you both to the dance floor, dragging you away just ahead enough to ask if you plan on keeping him longer.

you only roll your eyes and push her playfully, looking back to smile at mingi who’s watching you in a way that makes you think, tonight, you’re finally gonna kiss him.

or that could just be the alcohol coursing through your veins, another cup of vodka and something, you don’t even know what your friend asked for. but it’s good, cold and sweet and you’re gone enough where you can barely taste the sting of alcohol going down your throat.

you wouldn’t say you were drunk, courtesy of the huge meal you and mingi had back at your room, but you’re definitely a little tipsy. tipsy enough to dance without a care in the world, not distracted by the big groups of people or much too stuffy environment.

you were there to have fun and dance, any problems from school work or shitty customers or a lingering ex-boyfriend the last thing on your mind.

you haven’t seen wooyoung since that october night, when he was far too drunk and far too emotional and made you cry far too similarly like when you first broke up.

it’s always a sad, hopeless cry, knowing that you shouldn’t still be hurting but feeling it deep within your gut that, whether you want to admit it or not, you still were. you were still hurt by the betrayal of someone you loved so much, even though you wished you could just turn those feelings off.

and despite all of these feelings inside of you, you’re surprised to learn that, in your impaired state, you’re not a sad drunk yet. you’ve been laughing and smiling and dancing, bouncing your attention between your study group friends and mingi who spotted a few guys from his classes.

which should’ve been the first indication that wooyoung was lingering around this bar.

he spotted you a few times during the night but knew better than to go over, remembering the last time he saw you, he got a well-deserved red mark on his cheek. he also saw how mingi watched you, a soft fondness in his gaze that hurt him as much as it comforted him.

because he thought you’d be safe with him tonight. that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight or allow you to stumble off to the bathroom by yourself.

but when the several cups hit you all at once, an unpleasant pressure on your bladder, you told the group you were gonna go pee and walked off without any response. it was so fast, one minute laughing and dancing and hearing the pounding music in their ears and then the next realizing you weren’t there.

“oh...my god, my hair,” you whined in the mirror as you washed your hands, brushing through the frizzy, knotty strands.

“it looks bea-beautiful!” another tipsy girl smiles, stumbling over to you and holding herself up on the wall. “don’t be silly!”

a giggle bubbles out of your mouth as you look at her in shock, her three friends coming out and praising each other is a similar way.

it’s an oddly intimate and sweet ten minutes in the girl’s bathroom but it keeps you smiling even on your way out, waving goodbye to them before you turn back around and bump into someone’s chest.

“oh, i’m sorry, i-”

“it’s okay, pretty,” a deep unfamiliar voice says, his voice far too brash and flirty for your liking. you look up to see glossed over eyes and a smirk covering his sweaty face, the faint scent of alcohol and b.o making you queasy.

“how’re you doing tonight?”

“i’m fine,” you say, every bit of you now sobered as you watch his predatory gaze. the bar is still pretty crowded but the bathrooms are dark and off to the side, something you hadn’t even noticed in your tipsy state.

“you here with someone tonight?” the boy asks, eyebrow raised suggestively as he takes a step closer to you.

you swallow nervously as you nod politely, a tight smile on your face when your heart starts to pound. something innate within you is scared, the dark vacant corner only making you more nervous when your back hits the wall behind you.

“you’re pretty. so i guess it’s a boyfriend, huh?”

“yes,” you say shortly, wishing you could push him back or or yell or slap him the way you did wooyoung. “so if you’ll excuse me, he’s probably wondering where i-”

but before you can move around the boy, a clammy hand on your elbow pulls you back to the wall. you immediately feel your heart drop into your stomach, panic setting in as your eyes shoot up to the man’s face.

you don’t like the look behind his beady, glossy eyes and if you can’t get away within the next few seconds, you’re probably gonna scream.

“now hold up now,” he says playfully, the slur in his words and stale smell of beer on his breath only making this worse. “maybe i’m b-better than your boyfriend,” he hiccups in your face, breath wafting in your face and making it pinch together.

“i don’t think so,” you hum under your breath, shaking your head as you pull your arm out of his grasp. “so please leave me alone now.”

but he doesn’t.

“hey, hey, hey, wait,” he says, a crooked smile on his face as he blocks his bigger body with yours. “just give me a chance, yeah? let me buy you a drink?”

your eyes flare and fists clench at his persistence, the way he’s inching closer to you and not taking no for an answer really making you mad. making you ready to stomp on his foot and kick him between the legs.

“c’mon, your boyfriend doesn’t even know you’re gone,” he says, an attempt to sound sly and convincing only making your skin crawl even more. “he’s probably with some other chick. let me show that i’m much better than him, babe.”

his hand reaches out to touch your shoulder, a clammy thumb running along your bare skin. “he doesn’t know how good he has it if he let a pretty little thing like you walk off alone.”

“i know how good i have it actually,” you hear a voice mutter, one that, up until this very moment, would’ve made you angry or sad; but now, you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful to hear him.

you hear footsteps coming closer and each one fills you with relief, the thought that he’s about to kick the shit out of him the least of your concerns.

“so i suggest you take your fucking hand off her.”

your eyes meet the tight ones of wooyoung over the boy’s shoulder, his jaw clenched and gaze calculating as he debates ripping the guy off of you and shoving him against the wall or tugging you behind him.

he goes with both.

taking you by the hand gently but firmly, your body bumping his as he puts you behind him. and then similar to how you were caged in, wooyoung does the same to the boy an inch or two taller than him; but it’s like neither are even aware of that.

wooyoung’s body is stiff and rigid, the vein in his neck popping out as he stares down the guy. what freaks the creep out the most is, even by how pissed and dark this psycho is looking at him, his gaze looks...careless. like he wouldn’t even hesitate beating the shit out of him despite the way they’d be thrown out of here in three seconds.

“didn’t know you were real, dude,” the man stutters out, as if that is a good enough excuse to pin you against the wall and harass you.

and wooyoung must find it absurd too, a scoff leaving his mouth as he cocks his head to the side.

“would it matter if i wasn’t?” he growls lowly, his body hot and angry as he takes his shirt in his hand. he wraps it around it to the point of choking the guy, his body thrashing underneath his hold.

“get the f-fuck off me you psycho.”

“you don’t like it, do you?” wooyoung asks, a sinister smile on his face as he steps closer to the boy. “being caged in by a fucking lunatic? are you scared now?”

your eyes widen at the dark tone in wooyoung’s voice, your quiet call of his name falling on deaf ears. he’s too focused on not beating the fuck out of the guy in front of him, his hand tightening as he decides to throw him into the corner of the wall.

you watch the man’s head smack off the wood trim and immediately screech, a chastising call of wooyoung’s name that has him grabbing your hand and heading for the exit.

you’re about to object until you see he’s only bringing you outside the bar, sitting you down on a bench outside and welcoming the cold night air; it’s mid-november, only a week until thanksgiving break, and it’s unsurprisingly very bitter out.

he helps you sit down before letting out a shaky sigh, his hands running through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down and not run back in to finish what he wants so desperately wants to. he’s pacing slightly and you’d be probably be scared if it was anyone else, watching his jaw tick and vein pop in his neck.

“you’re jeaaalous,” you tease your boyfriend of three months, watching his eyes follow two boys who had talked to you after class; you’d become friendly with them the first day of classes, their bright smiles and funny remarks immediately making you feel comfortable with them.

“no,” he growls lowly, his hand wrapped around your waist the whole time you go to your locker. you bite down on your lip to hide your smile but it does nothing to keep your giggles at bay, your back pressed up against the cold metal as he looks over your face.

you cock your head to the side and smile teasingly at him, your thumb soothing over the ticking vein in his neck. the feel of it under your skin makes you wince a little because it seems almost dangerous, like his head or neck is gonna explode.

“no?” you repeat, cocking an eyebrow as he looks at you in disdain. “then what’s this?”

his hand reaches out to grab yours, quickly interlacing your fingers as his other rests next to your head on the cool metal.

“nothing,” he responds dumbly, dipping his head and hiding the possessive flare in his eyes as his next words fan over your ear. “i just don’t like seeing someone with my girl.”

you shake your head of the memory and see wooyoung making his way over to you, the boy slowly kneeling in front of you as he meets your glossy gaze.

“you okay?”

you lick over your dry lips, a lump already forming in your throat at his closeness and the softness in his voice. you can tell by his eyes that he hasn’t had a stitch of alcohol tonight, everything about him looking so similar to the boy he was last year during this time.

before things went to shit and before he started the double life you both still haven’t recovered from.

you don’t know if you could get the words out if you tried so you can only nod, your cold hands in one another. it feels as if a little bit of everything about the past five minutes has sobered you, fear and comfort and the coldness that should be alerting you to get away from the boy looking at you the way he is.

but you can’t seem to do that, lips pressing into one another when you feel that lump growing bigger and bigger. you think you stop breathing when he reaches up to cup your cheek, his warm palm on your face for only a few seconds before you let out a shaky breath.

you know this isn’t good. that you and him together alone right now isn’t good. months of telling yourself you hate him and that he should rot before seeing him before your eyes and knowing that a part of you still cares for him.

“wooyoung,” you mumble warningly, that breaking feeling within your chest knowing you can’t have him touching you.

his face falls at the same time as his hand, splayed out on your jean covered knee in a way that feels so foreign but familiar. his hands are smaller than mingi’s but there’s something about them that almost makes you feel more comforted, remembering the times like this he would hold you and make you feel better.

made you feel like no one would ever hurt you because he was there.

“i’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice deep and full of genuine sorrow.

but you don’t know what exactly he’s sorry for. for the drunken man, for him touching you, for what he did? you go with the first one, because you’re not ready for the conversation the other two need.

“not your fault,” you hum quietly, trying to talk through the growing lump in your throat. “just a drunk asshole.”

“not about that,” he laughs out humorlessly, rising from his spot below you and sitting down next to you. he’s close enough to where you can feel the heat radiating off his body but your arms aren’t touching - just a few centimeters separate you.

“i’m sorry about our last conversation. it...wasn’t fair of me to do that and say anything to you.”

you shiver as a biting gust of win blows past, your arms wrapping around yourself as you simply nod. you can’t really think of what to say. because you don’t wanna say it’s okay, it’s not, but he also seems genuinely apologetic.

“i’m trying not to drink anymore,” he explains to you, not quite sure how to take your silence and choosing to fill it. you can hear some embarrassment laced in his voice, his eyes trained down on his dirty sneakers. “it’s...caused me nothing but problems.”

caused him to lose you and fuck up time and time again. misplace all of his priorities and transform him into a person who lost his happiness in the span of a few months.

“i messed up that night obviously, though,” he chuckles out, not a trance of humor in his tone as he meets your gaze. usually it’d be him watching you be nervous but now he can feel the shift in dynamic. that even though you’re still uncomfortable and nervous too, you still have the upper hand.

you can decide right now if you’re gonna start this conversation or tell him to go fuck himself.

“i’m sorry you had to witness that. i know it was really fucking shitty of me.”

“it was,” you agree quietly after a few silent seconds, wooyoung’s heart dropping in his stomach as he prepares to get his ass handed to him. “but i don’t know if that second slap was warranted.”

that loud high chuckle you’d always complain was ear piercing bubbles out of his mouth and you can’t help but bite back a smile at hearing it, resisting the urge to giggle right along side with him.

“it definitely was. i was a dick.”

you only shrug your shoulders, something pulling in your chest the more you two sit down beside one another and actually talk. not curse or slur words at each other or put your hands on the other but actually have some sort of discussion.

“it wasn’t right. what i did.”

and then just as you were starting to feel good about all of this talking stuff, your heart falls in your stomach and you wanna run from away from this conversation. a part of you doesn’t wanna reopen these wounds but another part of you knows they were never really healed or closed.

especially not after seeing him again.

“i can’t even tell you why or what happened because i don’t even fucking know. i missed you even though we saw each other and talked a lot but...she was just always fucking there. would never leave me alone and i was so stupid to not realize it.”

that’s something he always reflects back on, how you saw something the first day you met her but you both chopped it up to insecurities.

“and then i think i just started to lie because i loved you. which doesn’t even make sense because you don’t lie to someone you love. but i was so selfish and desperate to keep you. i knew you’d leave me.”

“no shit, wooyoung,” you can’t help but say, the quiver in your voice one you can’t stop as you hear all of this from his mouth. “the first night when she kissed you drunk, you should’ve told me. the fact that you didn’t...makes me thing you knew it was gonna happen again. without alcohol.”

“i didn’t tell you because i thought you’d be mad. i know i would’ve been.”

“i don’t think you’d be mad if someone took advantage of me,” you confess quietly, something you now know was absolutely the case. “but truthfully, it wasn’t even that, woo. you lied right to my face when i asked you in my room that day.”

“we’re just friends,” he says and you bite the inside of your cheek so you don’t scream; you hadn’t said anything like that so why is he telling you that? “she only texted me for the schedule, love.”

you look up to meet his gaze and see a frown on his lips, his eyes trailing over every part of your face.

“do you trust me?” he then asks suddenly, seeing all of the doubt and hesitation over your face. you immediately nod your head, feeling tears burn the back of your eyes at the idea of starting a fight.

“then why does it seem like you don’t?

“you made it seem like it was me. and that’s why i really tried to fucking hate you,” you confess, voice wavering and watery and you even hear how it sounds like you’re about to have a break down. “being with her was bad and me needing to see that was bad but you...lying like that was worse.”

he swallows the lump in his throat as tears sting his eyes, his jaw clenched and eyes on the concrete so tears don’t fall.

“a part of me thinks i should hate you,” you say after a few silent moments, wondering if he’s even listening to your words anymore. “but i...” your voice breaks and the cold air stings your watery eyes, successfully (and thankfully) halting your words.

and whether wooyoung noticed your shivering or saw your eyes, you feel him move beside you before his sweatshirt is placed around your shoulders. the scent of his cologne could make you burst into tears on the spot, the teakwood scent you loved so much further overwhelming you.

“thanks,” you mumble quietly, his hummed response the only sound between you two for the next few moments.

the muffled music and chatter from inside the bar could be heard from the street but it seems as if no one is out tonight. just you, wooyoung and the lingering silence that comes with sitting beside an ex who hurt you and an ex you’re still in love with.

it just so happens that, for you, both of those are still the case. no matter how much you wanna deny it or pretend that’s not the case, him sitting beside you and giving you soft little smiles is making you weaker than you wished.

you know you should get up and leave, tell him this isn’t a good idea and that you should go back inside to mingi and your friends. but it’s like your brain and your body are at a complete disconnect, welcoming the warm heat from his jacket and the strangely comfortable presence of him beside you.

“i still love you.”

the wind blows by at the time he says that and, at first, you think you made it up. that your deluded mind is hearing things and you really are just far too vulnerable and upset right now.

but the when you peak at him, you can tell by the look on his face he’s not sure if he said that either. actually confessed to you in such a way he knows is wrong and unfair but just couldn’t stop because to the core, he’s selfish when it comes to you.

he always has been.

“i always will. i always did.”

and when you feel yourself start to break, the tears burning at the back of your eyes coming to the surface, you feel the anger and spite finally leave your body and be replaced with a sad, pathetic version of it.

“i don’t know how i’m supposed to believe that,” you whimper out quietly, your eyes roaming his face in a way that breaks his heart; your eyes look so sad and defeated, he just wants to pull you into him. “i don’t even know why you’re saying this to me right now, woo.”

but he knows it’s in the way you still call him that with ease, like you don’t even realize you’re saying it and it’s just completely natural, that that’s exactly why he’s saying it.

that he wants you to see, even though he made a mistake, there’s still something to hold on to.

“i miss you,” he tells you softly, his voice low in a way that makes you swallow the lump in your throat. “i really fucking miss you, y/n. and i love you.”

“you’re not being fair,” you whimper out, the tears brimming your eyes falling down your cheek as you look at him. that’s when it really hits him how much he hurt you, how much you avoiding him and blocking him out of your life was meant to shield you from this.

“that’s not fair at all, wooyoung. what am i supposed to do? just forget it? believe now that you love me? you said the same thing then.”

“and it was true then,” he says, his tone more desperate and tight. “it was a mistake, y/n. the first time and the times after that. they’re lousy excuses but i’m being honest.”

he reaches out to wipe your tears and you can’t find the energy to pull away, exhaling a shaky breath when his thumb wipes at your face. his touch is gentle and soft and makes this moment even more hard for you, the look on his face making your heart wrench in your chest.

“please, baby. i know it’d be hard but if we could just-”

“don’t. please.”

you pull your face away and shake your head as you look at him, wiping your wet cheek with the back of your hand.

“you’re not about to honestly suggest we date again? are you out of your fucking mind?”

“no no no. not date,” he’s quick to clarify, his hands up in innocence. “if we could just be friends. friendly. not...avoid each other and argue every time we see each other.”

he lifts his hands to your face again with a pout on his, swiping both thumbs under your eyes; you notice his own eyes are teary but don’t even wanna think about him crying in front of you.

it hurts you as much as it enrages you, remembering the last time he broke down in front of you.

“i don’t want you to cry every time you see me,” he mumbles lowly, his gaze looking over your face with such affection you can’t bear to look at him anymore.

“i don’t...i want...i...”

“i’m never gonna trust anyone ever again. do you fucking realize that, wooyoung?” you cry, his voice ringing in your head from january, when now you know he had already been with her, asking why you didn’t trust him. “you were with her and turned it around on me and asked why i didn’t trust you.”

“i want you to trust me.”

but he says that like it’s easy. like you can just so easily forget everything and trust him blindly. like he didn’t do anything wrong.

“i don’t know, wooyoung.”

he sees the fear and apprehension flickering behind your eyes, a sigh leaving his mouth as guilt starts to wash over him. he shouldn’t be doing this right now. he shouldn’t be asking you to do this when he’s not even sure you’ve forgiven him yet.

he shouldn’t be feeling this intense want and need to have you to himself again.

you both hear the faint sound of the door swinging open but pay no mind to it, too lost in the intense gazes and buzzing air between you two. you know you shouldn’t be considering this just as much as he shouldn’t be asking but here you are, actually considering his words right now.

“just...think about it?” he offers, eyes glinting with hope and affection that would usually soften you in a second. “i know it’ll take time but maybe we can just try?”

you lick over your cold, chapped looks as you look at him, every part of you knowing you should be saying a big fuck you and fuck no to him.

“i’ll wait for you again,” he adds, a hint of teasing behind his words as he thinks about your first few months together. him sitting with you every day during lunch and you outright ignoring him for half of them. watching as your confused expressions and sneers slowly morphed into smiles and giggles.

realizing that, he was right to think you guys were good for each other, because being with you was one of the easiest things in the world when he wasn’t being a fucking asshole.

“you barely waited,” you grumbled lowly, remembering the events from high school a lot more along the lines of him buying you snacks, asking you to a different movie every weekend and not giving you a moment to yourself during lunch.

“a whole two months actually,” he says, the amusement in his voice making a sad smile cross your face. he can tell it’s sad by the way it doesn’t meet your eyes and it makes his heart hurt just a little bit, his hand moving to yours so your cold fingertips brush.

“i’ll wait as long as you need this time. and if you decide you don’t want to be friends...that’s fine, too. i’ll...accept it and never talk to you again.”

you hate the way your heart pangs with hurt at that idea, terrified and embarrassed by how fast things changed in three months. how three months, you never wanted to see him again and now the prospect of that is physically paining you.

but could you put yourself through this? should you put yourself through this? he could be lying again. he could just be-

“y/n?”

mingi’s deep voice pulls you from your thoughts as you jump at the sound of him, your eyes meeting his confused, cautious gaze before quickly snatching your hand away from wooyoung; but it’s obvious he already saw how close you guys were, on top of the fact his sweatshirt is wrapped around your shoulders.

“you okay?” mingi asks as he looks at you, his gaze shifting to wooyoung and hardening every so slightly. “why are you upsetting her? haven’t you done enough?”

“mingi, it’s-”

“some drunk asshole was harassing her because someone let her walk off alone,” wooyoung says to the boy, standing from his spot next to you and walking over. it’s at that time your friends come out and their eyes light up upon seeing you, quickly rushing over and dabbing at your red, damp face.

mingi and wooyoung continue to have a stare down as you’re bombarded by drunken coos and sticky hands, the taller boy watching you carefully before wooyoung clears his throat.

“guy said she had a boyfriend but that’s not the case, is it?” wooyoung says, the shift in him to being conniving and mean at the way he sees the boy looking at you. “no matter how much your bitch ass wants it.”

“fuck you,” mingi spits out, “you don’t deserve to even speak to her after what you did.”

“you don’t deserve to give me advice after you tried to swoop in and steal her.”

“she’s not something to steal, asshole. i’ve actually been there for her, wooyoung,” mingi says, his tone deep and gruff as he resists the urge to thrown him up against the wall. “watching her cry and get through the shit that you inflicted on her.”

the words effect him just as much as mingi wanted them too but he’d never let the boy know that, instead narrowing his eyes and shoving the boy backward.

“our shit’s between me and her so maybe fuck off for once and leave her alone,” wooyoung says, popping his neck to the side as he watches mingi’s jaw tighten. “look like a pathetic little puppy following her around.”

“more pathetic than pining after someone you cheated on? you know you fucked up and now that she’s moving on, you’re pissed.”

“who the fuck said she’s moving on you-”

“mingi, we’re gonna go.”

it’s your soft voice that breaks up their lowly growled conversation, wooyoung’s dark eyes changing as he turns back to look at you. you hold his gaze for a few seconds before meeting mingi and the boy can’t even lie in saying it hurts how much more comfortable you seem looking at him.

wooyoung can barely hear mingi mumble his response, letting out a groan when the taller boy shoulder checks him and says “they’ll see him around.” the boy bites back a snarky comment as you meet his gaze again, flickers of hope and confusion and fear in your gaze.

he can only assure you with a soft smile and hope that you really see he meant every word he said.

“i couldn’t even tell if he meant it, you know,” you tell mingi on the walk home, wooyoung’s sweatshirt still hanging from your body.

the walk from the bar to your dorm is only about twenty minutes, you and mingi’s hands bumping clumsily as you walk down the main road.

“like he seems sorry and he just said we’ll be friends. but i can’t....actually trust him again. what he did was wrong and i can’t just forgive him.”

mingi’s been quiet during your rant for the past few minutes, only the occasional hum or nod assuring you he’s even been listening. but it’s when you crane your neck up to look at him you see his face is...unusual.

expressionless, almost, in a way you never see on the usually happy and smiley boy.

“mingi? are you okay?”

“hm? yeah, i’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head before his arms bumps into yours.

your eyebrows pull together in suspicion, about to ask him if he’s even been listening before he beings to talk again. “do you actually feel that way, though? that what he did was wrong and that you can’t forgive? or do you just think you should feel that way?”

“i-”

the question strikes you more than you thought it would. because the answer seems obvious - you shouldn’t wanna forgive him. you should know what he did was wrong, know it in the way loyalty and trust is such a crucial part to relationships.

but forgiveness is where that line gets blurred for you.

hearing him and seeing him look and sound apologetic was hard. thinking back on your relationship and remembering how good you guys were together was hard. trying to put yourself in his situation, although you’re not sure you would’ve been in it in the first place, was hard.

and it’s not like he’s asking you to trust him and be his girlfriend again.

you’re just gonna...slowly repair your relationship again, right? but when you utter that thought to mingi, his feet stop moving and he looks down at you with an unconvinced expression.

“you say that, y/n, and i wanna believe you,” he says, his hand toying at your fingers as he tries to remain gentle and calm. “but...i don’t know. you guys looked...”

the softness and affection was obvious, the possession and love behind wooyoung’s eyes matching your soft but fearful gaze was eye opening.

if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve seen a couple making up from a fight. a happy, loving couple who was able to get past a hardship in their relationship and would be able to thrive again.

“what?”

“you guys looked like you were...together. i thought i interrupted something,” mingi says honestly, remembering how you jumped away and your hands and face followed. “kind of seemed like you guys were gonna kiss.”

“mingi, that’s definitely not-”

“and look, if that’s what you want, that’s fine. but, please, y/n. you have to be careful. you can’t forget how much he hurt you and really have to consider if he’s being-”

and maybe it’s because you just wanted him to stop talking about it. or because your mind is muddled and confused and still swirling with the effects of alcohol and the tension with wooyoung. or because, underneath all of this drama, a part of you also has come to like mingi.

or at least, the comfort and feelings of affection and desire he gave you. he’s been there for you since the beginning and after a few months, you always thought this moment was gonna happen. you just didn’t know when.

you didn’t know when one of you was gonna grow the balls to kiss and see what happens after that.

it takes him a few seconds to respond before you feel him kiss you back, lips parted and his hand in yours moving to your hips. he pulls you against him the more you kiss, like you’re pouring every emotion you’ve experienced tonight into him while he’s pouring every emotion he’s held back for months.

he just doesn’t know that at the time.

he just knows that you pull back and smile at him in such a pretty way, a blush on your cheeks and glint in your eye as you tell him you really are only considering a friendship with wooyoung.

but you go home that night not thinking about the kiss or mingi’s sleeping body beside you. you go home thinking about how nice it feels to be wrapped in wooyoung’s familiar scent and jacket.

almost like, when you close your eyes, you can pretend the body next to you is his.

truthfully, you didn’t know how that kiss was gonna effect the dynamic between you and mingi. you didn’t know if things were gonna be awkward or different or if now all of the expectations changed.

but even that night when he dropped you off, and stayed for a sleepover which was not unusual, you curled up in bed with a bag of chips and your laptop as you each shared a headphone.

and nothing felt different.

you two just went along with your usual relationship, not even mentioning the kiss until it became something that happened a day ago. then a week ago, then two weeks ago, then over a month ago, until it kind of seemed like something you guys were never gonna talk about.

but school and work kept you both busy anyway, the last few days before christmas break full of studying for finals, finishing projects and dealing with the holiday rush of customers stocking up on sugary desserts and espresso shots.

among those customers in the coffee shop was wooyoung, the boy coming in three times a week for his usual order of black coffee and a chipotle chicken club.

at first, you could tell the remnants of your conversation outside the bar were lingering. you were both apprehensive, his eyes guarded and voice overly polite every time he ordered or thanked you.

you kept up your professional attitude but still felt that familiar feeling of nervousness bubbling in your stomach, torn between giving him another chance as a friend or saving yourself the possibility of getting hurt again.

but it was in the little things he did over the weeks of him coming in that eventually wore you down.

when a particularly unpleasant customer gave you shit, he was quick to jump in like a ‘good samaritan,’ share a not-so-nice few words that had you biting back a smile and instead telling him it was okay.

he always ordered two drinks by accident, his black coffee and an iced coffee that would sit on his table for a few minutes before he came back over to you and your coworkers claiming he didn’t need it anymore.

but he knew it was your favorite drink and he could tell you needed a pick me up, working well into the evening until the sky fell dark and streets grew empty.

which brought him to his current predicament, the last person in the coffee shop while you closed up alone on the not so decent side of town; he noticed you closed alone on thursdays and it never sat right with him, watching it happen for two weeks before deciding he wasn’t gonna allow it anymore.

“hey, we close in about ten minutes. can i get you anything else?” he hears you ask, his head snapping up from his phone. there’s a rag in your hand and a small, polite smile on your face, looking him over warily.

“oh nah, i’m good,” he says, a shake of his head and a small laugh leaving his mouth. you purse your lips to the side and nod unconvinced, going back to the counter to finish cleaning.

you let out a small sigh when you realize you forgot to text your roommate to come pick you up, your car in the shop and god knows how much money down in your back account. but before you can even get to her contact, you hear wooyoung coming your way.

“thanks again, y/n, ” he says, gesturing to his empty cup of coffee in hand.

“you’re welcome! have a nice night, wooyoung,” you smile politely.

you think that maybe saying his name over and over will remind you of what he’s done to you, halt the stupid butterflies in your stomach that erupt every time you see him enter the coffee shop or catch him looking at you.

he smiles but doesn’t respond, only looks you over before looking out the window and then back at you.

“so, how’re you getting home?”

you press your lips together as you now realize why he’s been lingering tonight, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him; he must’ve noticed your car not in the parking lot before.

“i was wondering why you were lingering,” you mumble, a chuckle leaving his mouth that makes a small, uncontrollable smile pull at your lips.

“knew you were on to me,” he quips playfully, winking as he goes over to the garbage and throws out his cup. “lemme drive you home.”

“i was gonna call my roommate to get me, it’s okay,” you insist, wiping out your phone again and scrolling to her name. you hear his footsteps approach you again, his hand reaching out slowly before gently falling onto your arm.

and even though you heard him, you still jump at the contact, what feels like an electric shock zipping through your skin you know is all in your head.

“c’mon, y/n, that’s not necessary. i’m here,” he whines slightly, eyes pleading and soft with a smile you’re trying so hard to resist. you lick over your dry lips and narrow your eyes slightly, letting out a sigh when you can tell he’s not letting up.

and it’s late. it’s so late and you’re tired and still have two papers to finish and edit tonight. you might as well, right?

“fine.”

he smiles happily before guiding you to the front door, watching you lock up before you silently walk to his car. he opens the passenger-side door and you give him a strange look, never having seen him do that before, before thanking him.

the car ride is quiet and awkward and cold for the first few minutes, you softly giving him directions before he turns on the heat and you sigh in relief. he side-eyes you as you put your hands to the vent, relishing in the hot air on your cold skin and he can’t help but smile at the sight.

“hands are still like icicles, i see.”

you look over and see the smirk on his face, probably remembering how when things were different, you’d warm your hands up on his skin despite his screams. sneak your hands under his shirt when you’d star gaze at night or hold onto his arm and giggle as he begged you to take them off him but never made any move to get them off.

“always,” you say shortly, a slightly strained but breathy giggle leaving your mouth that makes his heart pull in his chest.

the quiet hum of the car surrounds you both for the next few moments, an unspoken tenseness in the car from the reminder that, last time you were alone, he said he still loved you and you had a breakdown. he begged to be friends again and you left him without an answer.

an answer that’s now lingering between you two, trying to decide if this is gonna be something that’s able to be repaired in some way or you’re both gonna let the fond memories and old feelings die out.

you can’t even lie and say you weren’t going back and forth about it some nights, when your bed seemed too cold and memories were playing and, for some reason, your thoughts of mingi weren’t enough.

but you were terrified. every part of you was terrified to open this relationship back up just to possibly be hurt again. put your time and effort into him and make more memories that could potentially be tainted again.

you suppose that’s a risk with any relationship though, because mingi hurt you too and look at you two now; you don’t think your friendship with him has ever been stronger.

you let out a sigh as you wrack your brain, so lost in thought and the building ache in your temples that you’re barely able to hear wooyoung call your name.

“y/n?” he repeats, smiling softly when you look over at him in a daze and hum lowly.

“you good?”

“y-yeah,” you stutter, cheeks flushing a warm pink that wooyoung’s always sworn is the cutest thing about you. even more cute than when you stutter over your words or lick over your lips when you’re lost in thought.

“i...i was just thinking...” you continue a few moments later, your heart saying fuck it because your brain seemed to have lost this battle a while ago.

“about?” wooyoung prods gently, looking over at you as he stops at a red light; he can see your apprehensive, your quietness and shifting eyes one of the telltale signs.

“about...what we talked about the other night,” you say, peering over to see him watching you patiently, softly, so much like the way he’d watch you in the beginning.

“about trying to be friends.”

his eyebrow raises and he can feel a lump already forming in his throat, the smile he puts on his face one to disguise how fucking nervous he just became. because he was serious, no matter how selfish he’s realizing he is, if you tell him you don’t wanna be friends, he’s gonna respect that.

no matter how much it’ll pain him.

“and?” he asks, tightening his hand on the steering wheel when his eyes fall to your lips; watching as your tongue swipes over them before meeting his gaze again.

the look in his eyes makes more butterflies erupt in your stomach, a soft intensity that momentarily makes you forget everything he’s done; it also might be responsible for the next words that leave your mouth.

“i...think we can try.”

and you didn’t know it at the time but that was that sentence that sealed your fate for the next two months, mirroring the happy smile wooyoung throws your way as your heart lurches in your chest.

his hand twitches to take yours in his but he knows that’d be absolutely inappropriate so he only grips the steering wheel tighter, thanking you softly and promising that he’s not gonna fuck this up.

and for the next week, he doesn’t; you two fall into a schedule you would’ve never anticipated at the beginning of the school year.

he comes in a few hours before your shift ends, studies for finals with cups of coffee and desserts until he’s the last one in the building with you. he helps you clean and close up, his signature high-pitched laugh echoing through the empty walls when you smack him with a rag or yell at him for trying to steal another cookie.

he brings you home every night, your finger tips colliding as you warm your hands with the vents and smile shyly when the sensation from your skin meeting zips through you.

it’s a dark and clear night tonight, what seems like darker than any other december night, and there’s hundreds of stars in the sky. it’s something you both notice but don’t have the hearts to comment on, both of you catching the other peeking out the window or admiring the sight above you at a red light.

you bite down on your lip when he catches you, a blush creeping up on your face before you stutter out a question. the first one that comes to mind.

“you excited to be going back home?”

the smirk on his face is so obviously teasing but you don’t have the stomach to be snippy right now, grateful when he decides to play it nice tonight and answer without calling you out.

“how ‘bout you? your parents must be so happy.”

“they are. not happy that i’ll be using their car all break but i think they’re still happy,” you giggle out, wooyoung looking over at you an eyebrow raised.

“it’s still fucked?”

“yeah,” you sigh out with a shrug. “it’s okay though, it’ll definitely be fixed by the time i’m back for the spring.”

“that’s true but then how are you getting home tomorrow?”

and that’s how you ended up driving home for christmas break with wooyoung, his pleas, your apprehension, your parents confusion and mingi’s utter disapproval making the trip a very questionable one.

but it had made sense, you guess, saving your parents an hour drive to a destination wooyoung would be going to anyway.

“y/n, are you sure you’re okay with this?” mingi had asked, sitting atop your bed as you folded your clothes into a suitcase. you noticed the way the smile fell from his face when you told him, your stomach twisting as something that strangely felt like guilt began to surface.

but you shook it off and smiled softly at the boy, insisting that an hour with him would be okay.

“he’s been coming to work and driving me home every night this week, mingi, and i haven’t had a breakdown yet. it’ll be fine.”

the boy doesn’t find your comment assuring in the slightest, narrowing his eyes at you and feeling something pull in his chest. he doesn’t think you’ve realized how much you’ve drifted this week, small things that maybe he’s being too sensitive about or thinking too much into it.

but he’s wondering why you never asked him for a ride. or why the texts you’d usually send him about rude customers or funny co-workers have dwindled this week. he’s wondering why, for some god forsaken reason, your eyes are brighter and there’s a look on your face that just seems happier.

ignorance is bliss though and that’s why mingi just nods his head at you and opens his arms, smiling into your hair when you agree to take a quick 30-minute break for an episode that turns into almost three hours of cuddling and giggling.

“that’s not what happened at all!” you squeal, hitting wooyoung in the arm as he incorrectly recounts meeting your parents for the first time.

“there’s no way i did that!” he says, his lips quirked up and a laugh bubbling in his chest.

“you literally did! i almost died, that’s how i remember so well,” you screech, never forgetting that the first time you introduced a boy to your parents over dinner, he patted his lap and told you to take a seat.

wooyoung bursts out laughing the same way he did then, your mom looking at you two half in amusement and half in shock while your dad didn’t miss a beat and patted his lap for his wife in return; you were both pink in the face and smacked their arms playfully.

“your dad always liked me, i never understood why and now i certainly don’t.”

you bite down on your lip to control your growing smile, the two of you sharing memories the whole ride down.

it’s probably the worst thing to do at a time like this, where you’re both back in familiar settings, with a hundred different reminders and memories of one another. where you now only have each other and an old group of mutual friends with way too much free time you don’t know what to do with.

“you were funny i guess,” you tease lightly, a small giggle leaving your mouth when he side eyes you with mock annoyance. “remember when you got him the toilet golf for christmas?”

wooyoung throws his head back in laughter again and you both giggle and squeal for him to keep his eyes on the road, hitting him in the arm playfully as you tell him it’s still in his bathroom to this day.

“he’s probably real good now, too,” wooyoung says with a wink, the roll of your eyes making him bite back a smile of his own. “what’re you guys doing for christmas this year?”

you share holiday plans for the remainder of the car ride, telling him that you’ll be going to your aunt’s a few hours away from christmas to new years day. there’s only about five minutes left until you’re home when wooyoung’s next words stir you into shock.

“maybe we could hang out when you’re back. go ice skating or something.”

you press your lips together as you look at him, his face relaxed and eyes on the road like the suggestion had been the easiest thing in the world. you don’t know that, internally, he was kind of freaking out. hoping he didn’t just back track all the progress you guys have made, just within this car ride even.

ice skating was something you guys did last year together, your hand in his before you promptly fell on your ass but he saved you every time. you were still newly dating and it was all very sweet and pure, cheek kisses and awkward fumbling which were the telltale signs that you were a new couple in the honeymoon phase.

“i....”

the words seem caught in your throat, knowing you wanna say yes because friends ice skate. friend hang out like that, this shouldn’t be a new concept to you.

he can sense your apprehension and quickly meets your gaze, his face falling before he’s quickly shaking his head.

“only if you want to,” he smiles softly, an uncharacteristic shyness on his face and in his voice. “if you’re bored and got nothing else to do, ya know.”

not because he desperately wants to be with you during this break. not because hanging out with you this past week has been the happiest he’s felt since almost exactly a year ago.

“no, yeah, sure. that’d be nice,” you eventually stutter out, a smile breaking out across wooyoung’s face that calms all the anxiety and tension in your body. you can feel this attachment is wrong and unhealthy but it’s like you have no control over it anymore, blinded by him and the memories and the way he makes you feel.

the way you watch his car drive off after he walks you to the door, already buzzing with excitement for your...friendly outing with wooyoung in the next few weeks.

the holidays pass as quickly as they came and soon enough, you’re running around your room picking the finishing touches on your outfit as wooyoung is set to arrive in a few minutes. he had called you this morning after he woke up, telling you to dress warm and that he’d see you later tonight at six.

you hear your door bell ring and your eyes widen, moving to the clock to see he’s, surprisingly, five minutes early. you deem your matching boots and jacket good enough, running down the stairs and to the door.

you’re only faintly aware of the fact you can’t see his head through the top glass window the way you saw mingi’s when he came to your house last winter, shaking the memory from your head and smiling when you see wooyoung standing there with a cup of hot chocolate.

“hey b...y/n,” he smiles, his heart pulling in his chest so much he almost slipped up and forgot you’re only friends. but you just look so pretty and this feels a lot like a date, his stomach twisting and heart pounding in such a foreign way; he hasn’t been on a date since...

“hi! thank you, woo,” you smile softly, taking the cup from his hand and ushering him inside quickly. “just gotta find my keys. my parents are still at my aunts.”

“was hoping to see your dad, ask him about his golfing skills,” wooyoung teases, not coming to terms with the true anxiety and shame he feels knowing the older man definitely knows what he did to his daughter.

but if he does, you don’t make any indication of it; only smile at him and nod your head toward the couch, telling him you’ll be ready in a few minutes. he goes into the living room and smiles upon seeing your christmas tree light up with white lights and homemade ornaments.

your house smells of vanilla and the fireplace is crackling, a perfect warm contrast to the cold, biting weather outside. he plops down and watches the fire crackle, the heat warming his face and making him lean back with his eyes closed.

the warmth of the fire makes him melt further into the couch, sinking back into the comfortable couch until it almost feels like he could fall asleep.

you walk back in a few moments later and see the sight before you, your eyes widening and heart lurching because fuck. he has no right looking like that, sprawled out handsome and relaxed on your couch with the soft fire glowing on his face.

your eyes rack down his body quickly, his eyes closed and legs spread, head tipped back against the couch in a way that looks like he... you have to shake your head out of the daze, your own cheeks flushing because you feel like an absolute gawking pervert right now.

even though you’re painfully aware of how long it’s been since you last...

you shake your head again and make you way over, his eye peeking open upon hearing your footsteps, your pink cheeks and wet lips making him swallow and twitch in his seat; you look so fucking pretty tonight.

“hey,” he smiles, voice gruff and low as he looks you over. “you look nice.”

“you too,” you smile softly, your eyes moving from him to the roaring fire. “do you like it?”

but his eyes are still on you, roaming your body in a way that has his cock straining in his pants. he’s missed you and fuck has he missed those parts of you, too. he can see something behind your eyes but he’s not sure if it’s just his own lust creeping up on him, a hunger that he never thought he’d see again from you.

“like what?”

his voice is deep and gruff and sounds so rough, you have to stop the shudder from going through you. you can only swallow the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the sensation ripping between your legs as you look at him watching you.

with eyes so dark and lustful you can only hope that your own desire isn’t imagining it, staring back at him as you lick at your dry lips and remind yourself to breathe.

“th-the fire,” you say nodding your head toward the flames he was entranced by before. “do you like it?”

“oh,” he laughs out, the lump in his throat and growing arousal far too much right now. “yeah, i do. it’s nice.”

you nod your head as you look down and play with your fingers, bag hanging from your shoulder as you watch him from the middle of the room. the air is thick and the room feels 100 degrees, your heart pounding in your ears as you hear the whipping wind outside.

that’s where you guys should go right now. in the cold. around people. not alone in a hot space that’s only getting more and more tense.

“i...should we go or?”

he looks from you to the window to the fire and then back to you, a small pout on his face as he leans himself back on the couch. “five more minutes? it’s so fucking cold out and this is nice.”

you almost wanna say no because the tension is too thick right now but you also don’t know if you could move if you tried, nodding your head as a quiet “sure,” leaves your mouth.

the room is silent and you’re looking at him while he’s watching you, the need to swallow becoming more and more prevalent before you cock your head to the side.

“is it really cold out? should i wear something heavier?”

you know you don’t have to. this is your heaviest winter jacket, you just need to say fucking anything before you do something you might regret. or not regret at all, anything to feel relief and remember the way his lips feel against yours.

“no, that should be fine,” he says, smiling as he looks over your outfit and face again. “you look good. really good.”

a shy smile crosses your face and you feel a blush creep up on your face, looking down at your boots that may or may not be new.

“thanks. so do you,” you say softly, meeting his gaze and biting down on your lip when he smiles teasingly at you.

“is that why you’re all the way over there?”

your eyes narrow and breath hitches and you almost think he knows how much he’s effecting you right now. how long it’s been since you’ve had any sort of contact with another person that wasn’t completely platonic or pure.

“shut up,” you mumble, taking a few small steps toward the couch but still keeping your distance. he raises an eyebrow almost challengingly and that’s when you feel yourself growing more suspicious, cocking your head to the side as you blatantly look him over.

you watch him roll his tongue over his lips before looking into the fire place, that familiar tick in his jaw and neck making you smirk before feigning innocence again.

“you really like that, don’t you?”

his eyes raise to you, not a trance of teasing or amusement on his face as he look at you. it’s all dark and lustful and you don’t know where this is all coming from but it’s creeping up on you fast.

“the fire, i mean,” you add, nodding your head toward the furnace again.

his eyes narrow and jaw clenches, your teeth sinking into your lip to stop the smirk from creeping back up on your face; but it must not help completely because you watch a different sort of look cover wooyoung’s face.

one you haven’t seen in a long time.

“a lot of smart ass remarks for someone who’s standing across the room,” he bites back, eyes widening and cock twitching when you shrug your shoulders and are suddenly standing right in front of the couch.

you can only look down at him with a small smirk on your face, eyebrow’s raised as if to say now what are you gonna say? but you should know by now that wooyoung is almost never speechless or action-less, spreading his legs out on the couch just a little bit more before a teasing smile crosses his face.

he repeats the actions he did that first day meeting your parents, tapping his lap again as he licks over his lips and tells you your seat is still here. he knows it’s a risk and so do you but it doesn’t stop you from looking over his body, everything in you screaming that if you do this, there’s no going back.

you’re gonna be back to where you were months ago, caught in a cycle of worry and fear and all-consuming emotions, something dangerous and draining when a person like him knows they have power over you.

but right now, after the past three months of going back and forth with him and sorting through your emotions, you just wanna forget everything. turn your brain off for a second and do something, anything, that’s gonna make you feel something other than sadness and anger and confusion.

“come here.”

the command is gruff and deep and makes your lower stomach swoop, your fingers falling to zip off your jacket before your bag lands on the floor with a plop and you’re straddling your cheater of an ex-boyfriend right on your living room couch.

your lips collide and he groans at the same time you moan into his mouth, a mess of open-mouthed kisses and tongues that feel so pent up and natural, it’s like neither of your brains are on.

when you move against him and feel his hard cock under you, it only spurs you on to do it more. press your body into him and wrack your fingers through his hair.

he growls into your mouth and places his hands on your hips, his finger tips digging into your shirt as he disconnects your lips for air and travels down your neck.

his kisses are wet and sloppy but you throw your head back anyway, every part of your body burning and begging and aching to be touched by him. and it’s like he knows it, he still knows every part of your body better than you or anyone else in the world, sucking a hickie into your neck as his hands cup your ass.

“jesus christ, y/n,” he growls into your skin, your eagerness and closeness and warm body against his making all the blood go right to his cock. you can feel it pressing harder against you and let out a whine, pulling his face away from your neck so you can crash your lips against his again.

it’s a flurry of kissing and sucking and biting, your own hands ripping your shirt over your head before wooyoung’s face is in your chest and sucking hickies onto your skin. you lean your head back and let out a whine, your hand tightening in his hair before you push him back and pull at the bottom of his shirt.

he can only smirk at the pout on your face, pulling you into him and placing a kiss on your cheek. “still so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” he hums lowly, waiting until you nod for him to pull his shirt off and place a smack on your ass.

it echoes through your empty house and you let out a whine, pushing yourself against him before he takes your face in his hand.

“and you’ve only been good for me still, right?” he asks lowly, his voice deep and possessive in a way you’ve never heard before. it sends butterflies right through your stomach and in between your legs, wetness pooling in your underwear as he tightens his hold on you. “no one else has fucked you, right?”

and you know that should be the tipping point.

you know you should rip yourself away from him and slap him again, ask him why the fuck that matters when you know for a fact he’s been with someone else too. he’s been with someone while lying to you and acting as if everything was okay. that you were never indebted to him after the breakup and you still aren’t now.

but instead, you shake your head and look at him all wide-eyed and glossy, your breathy “only you have fucked me,” making him growl before flipping you over and ridding you from the rest of your clothes.

he falls to his knees before pulling to the edge of the couch and devouring your dripping pussy, his tongue lapping at you in a way that makes you scream out and push yourself against him. your stomach is tightening and legs are shaking and you can’t stop the moans that are leaving your mouth, repeating his name like a mantra as he slips a finger in.

“oh god, baby,” he growls against your wetness, your hole so tight around his finger he can’t wait to be buried inside of you.

“let- let me ride you,” you beg despite the way you’re still pushing yourself on his face. it’s a pleasure you don’t ever want to stop but you also wanna feel him inside you, missing so desperately what it feels like to be full of his cock.

“ah, ah, you gotta come on my tongue first,” he demands lowly, curling his finger inside of you and making you cry out. “you’ve been such a good girl for me. don’t get bad now.”

“b-but i wanna-”

he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream out, legs shaking and hips bucking into his face before your orgasm hits and you’re shaking against the couch.

you barely have time to catch your breath before he lifts you up and pulls you on top of him, guiding you over his cock before you sink down on him and you both moan out at the same time.

“oh my god,” you whine out at the same time he grunts “fuck,” your movements slow and easy as you adjust to his size in you. but once the slight sting has dulled and he feels you relax slightly, he pulls your face to his and connects your lips.

“now ride me, baby. i know you’ve missed sitting on my cock, haven’t you?”

with your hands gripping the back of the couch, you nod as you start to lift your hips up and down, leaning forward every so slightly so you can feel something against your already stimulated clit.

“answer me. who’s are you? who’s cock have you missed sitting on?”

“y-you, wooyoung. you. i’ve- i’ve missed your cock,” you whine, your hips moving more frantically the more you bounce up and down on him. your breaths are labored and the room feels at least 30 degrees hotter, his grunts and groans and your high-pitched yelps filling the festive living room.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this tight pussy again,” he growls out, when he feels himself getting close and needs you to come again before he can release inside of you. “i...you’re mine, baby. you fucking get that now, don’t you? you’re mine. and you’ll always be mine.”

“yes,” you whine out, frantically moving against him before moaning out when he starts fucking up into you. “yes, yes, yes. yours, wooyoung. p-please come, let me come, i wanna feel you-”

his last final grunt cuts you off and you feel your own orgasm take over, both of you riding out your highs and moaning each other’s names over and over until your ears are ringing and hearts are pounding in your chests.

you’re faintly aware of his hand rubbing up and down your back, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your head before he pulls out of you and lays on the couch.you close your eyes and let out a tiny whine at his exit, a small smile lingering on wooyoung’s face as he grabs a baby wipe from the bathroom to clean between your legs.

you smile lazily at him when you see him between your legs, cheeky fuck he is placing a teasing kiss between on your clit as he walks away laughing at your squeal.

he collapses on top of you when he’s back, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you completely and places another kiss on your neck. he peppers them down your skin and you can only smile, still on the high of your orgasm and feeling loved that you can’t register all the other emotions fighting to break through.

fear and confusion and maybe even slight panic, realizing you just gave in and fucked the life out of the ex-boyfriend you know you’re supposed to hate.

the doorbell ringing is the first thing that brings you back to reality a few minutes later, jumping up and nearly smacking wooyoung in the head had he not also lifted his head. his eyes are wide but not as bad as you, a smirk on his face as he asks if you’re expecting company.

“i don’t think so?” you say, pulling on your jeans before you start to frantically search for your shirt. wooyoung’s quick to throw you his, a knowing smile on your face because you remember how much he loved to see you in his clothes after you guys had sex.

and that hasn’t seemed to change.

“it’s definitely not my parents, they’d just use their key,” you assure him, attempting to fix your messy sexy hair that wooyoung’s always thought was the sexiest shit. “i’ll be right back.”

as you walk through the kitchen and peer out the front door, it feels like time stops when you see a familiar head of hair through the window. it’s like an exact parallel of the day mingi came to see you when you guys made up, except you hadn’t just fucked wooyoung on your couch.

and sure enough when you open the door, there mingi is with a handful of flowers and a large cup of tea in hand.

“hey! sorry i’m late, i can’t believe how much-”

his face drops the moment he takes in your appearance, messy hair, flushed pink cheeks, hickies on your neck, and an inside-out t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination of what you just got done doing.

“traffic there was,” mingi finishes quietly, staring back at your surprised, shocked face in a way that makes his heart drop in his chest - you didn’t remember.

“i...hi,” is all you dumbly say, the high from before quickly vanishing as you stare at mingi who’s looking more broken-hearted and confused by the second. it’s already making you wanna cry, his usually starry eyes dim and confused as he looks you over.

“did...you forget i was coming?” he laughs out, humor in his tone that sounds so horribly masked you have to hold back tears.

“happy new year, y/n! let’s hope this year brings us-”

your aunts words are cut off by blaring of your phone, mingi’s name popping up on your screen making a smile break out across your face; you’re not surprised he’s the first one calling to welcome you into the new year.

“you should get that,” your aunt smirks, a blush on your cheeks as you shake your head and tell her it’s not like that.

but she thinks the smile on your face says otherwise, the giggles and laughs and the way you throw your head back as you talk to the person on the other end of the phone.

“i should be back in two days, you can come see me then drama queen,” you smile into the phone, mingi’s whiney complaints that he misses you so much, he doesn’t think he remembers what you even look like. “i’ll be home around six, i expect you there with flowers and a hot beverage.”

“oh my god.”

guilt like you’ve never experienced rushes through you all at once, face pale and mouth open as tears build up behind your eyes. mingi can see them building and already knows what’s happening, a lump forming so tight in his throat he can only shake his head.

“it’s okay, y/n.”

because he saw the car across the street; he thought, maybe, it was a coincidence - ignorance is bliss, after all, but he knew your reaction was gonna be the only thing he needed to see. and the tears in your eyes makes it pretty obvious what’s going on right now.

“wait. no mingi, it’s not. please. just let me-”

“no, it’s okay, really. i- i should’ve told you i was still coming. how were you supposed to know?”

“we talked two days ago. i- i remember talking and planning it, i just...”

wooyoung called me, too. wooyoung called me and asked to go ice skating and it was like after that, everything else was gone from your memory. you were so consumed by that you forgot you were supposed to-

“it’s okay,” he assures again, a small sad smile on his face as he holds out the flowers and drinks. “consider it a special delivery.”

and when you don’t take it, just continue to stare blankly at him, he places the drink and flowers on the steps and turns around wordlessly. because he’s not about to break down and have this conversation with wooyoung in the house, have you explain yourself when he obviously misunderstood things here.

he’s just about to his car door when he hears your footsteps running after him, his eyes closing tight to fight off the few small tears building in his eyes.

“mingi, wait. please wait, i-”

“it’s fine, y/n. i...i was stupid,” he laughs out humorlessly, turning around and looking over your already tear-stained face. “i misunderstood and that’s okay. i...we never officially said we were doing hanging out and i-”

“you didn’t misunderstand anything,” you’re quick to tell him, your mind completely clear as you take in mingi’s dejected face; you know you’re both not only talking about tonight’s plans.

you’re talking about the past ten months together. the friendship you built and the lingering touches and smiles. the way you made each other feel so safe and content and at ease. the way you only ever really smiled and laughed around one another.

his face looks familiar now though. his entire demeanor looks familiar, except you think you recognize more because you remember feeling like you looked a lot like that last winter. like you saw something you shouldn’t have and felt hurt in a way no one’s hurt you before.

and you think those might’ve been the wrong words to say because within the next few silent seconds, mingi’s face morphs from devastation to the smallest hint of anger you’ve ever seen from him.

“don’t say that.”

tears fall from your eyes and you feel like you can’t breathe, watching him grip the handle of his door like he’s dying to get the fuck in his car and away from your house.

“if...if i didn’t misunderstand anything, y/n, then i... this...” mingi shakes his head because he can’t even fathom this whole situation right now. but he knew from the beginning your relationship was very up in the air, the two of you never officially claiming to be anything.

“we never talked about anything. our feelings or the kiss, so i did misunderstand things,” mingi confirms again, because this rationalization is easier. not feeling the need to hate you and yell at you and ask what the fuck you were thinking is easier.

“i thought you were just...you know, figuring it out still so i didn’t wanna pressure you. but maybe that was wrong, maybe you just never wanted-”

“mingi, please. no. i know this looks bad but we can-”

“y/n?”

wooyoung’s voice makes you both freeze, you keeping your gaze on mingi while his goes to the boy at the door. you can’t see the challenging look in wooyoung’s eyes or the smug look on his face, mingi’s hand tightening on the door as he tells you he’s leaving now.

“what?” you cry out, eyes wide and watery as you shake your head frantically.

you know you’re being unfair and you know this is over but you can’t help but hold onto just for a second longer, your heart pulling so horribly in your chest, you’re not sure you’ve felt pain like this before.

“i’m leaving, y/n. get away from my car, okay?”

he keeps his voice soft and sweet and quiet, begging you to just go back to wooyoung as he keeps his eyes trained away from the boy. because he knows if he looks at him again, he’s gonna run over and beat the shit out of him.

“mingi, please, i didn’t-”

“it doesn’t matter anymore,” mingi says coldly, voice a bit harsher and louder. “just get away from my car.”

“i know it looks bad but please, mingi, please, i didn’t mean to-”

“get the fuck away from me.”

your face falls and lower lip quivers, mingi’s face crumbling before he runs his hand over his face. he takes a few deep, calming breaths before his large hand cups your face, daring wooyoung to come over and say something right now, as his thumb runs over your cold skin and wipes at the wetness.

“i’m sorry. i just...i have to go.”

“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you blurt out, knowing and seeing clear as day that’s what happened. “i didn’t know... we never said...i...”

you don’t know what to say but you know this all feels very fucking wrong. you know that you feel like you messed up one of the best friendships and relationships you’ve ever had, the pulling feeling deep within your gut making you wanna vomit.

“i know, y/n, it’s okay,” he assures gently, his hand falling from your face and making you feel ten degrees colder. “i just gotta go, okay? please.”

your face crumbles as you find that you can’t look away from him, only backing away when he’s able to open the door and wedge himself in.

he turns on his car and puts it drive before he can even put his seatbelt on, his eyes never leaving yours until he’s taking off down the block and suddenly the neighborhood is quiet.

you hear footsteps making their way up behind you but can’t move from your spot, staring at the spot his car just occupied before arms wrap around your body.

you can feel now that they’re far too cold and far too short and feel far too wrong. how could you have not felt this before? known that this just didn’t feel right?

“wooyoung’s my friend but so are... so were you.”

you watch mingi’s fingers rest on the couch cushion next to you as you let out a small, shaky breath, something about his words causing you to look up and narrow your eyes.

“were?”

a pink, dare you say, nervous, blush crosses his face that causes you to hold back a laugh, his eyes wide as he shakes his head quickly.

“are. you are my friend,” he clarifies quickly, unsure eyes still roaming you. “i just...wasn’t sure if you still wanted to be.”

his stammered words coupled in with his pink cheeks and dark, wind-blown hair have a small smile stretching across your face, a sigh leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him and shrug.

“well, i guess i can’t lose you too, huh?”

“i’m happy you’re mine again,” wooyoung whispers in your ear, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “we can work through this, okay? you know how much i love you, baby.”

but do you really know that? what about when the next girl comes along, with dark hair and a pretty smile and makes him feel so desired, he just tells you that again because he knows, in the end, you’ll believe him?

the end

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @minbinwhore @chrryhwa @chogiout @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa

#this is so twisted and toxic #but alas angst won again <3 #dont take back a cheater irl!!#the love alarm s2 debacle was also very self indulgent #wooyoung #mingi #wooyoung angst #mingi angst #ateez angst #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung imagines #mingi scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #ateez smut

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

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IOTA Reviews: Miraculous World: New York - United HeroeZ

So... with the recent announcement that Seasons 4 and 5 of Miraculous Ladybug will air on Disney+, with one episode set to air around March 27th (and it's out of order because of course it is), I figured I would try something new with this blog.

While I'm sure Astruc will be more active while the new season is airing, I figured I'd take a stab at reviewing new episodes of Miraculous Ladybug when they come out, as I already have a Disney+ account that I only really use to watch Star Wars and other Disney Channel cartoons I've never seen before. Well, that and the gloriousness that is Mech-X4.

And I was thinking that since a certain special is already available on Disney+, I'll review it now. Consider it my, uh...

279 Follower Special. Yeah, that’s it.

Miraculous World: New York – United Heroez is the first in a series of Miraculous Ladybug specials with the premise of having our heroes travel around the world. Because I guess that's what you do with your show when you run out of ideas for things your characters can do. Just ask Ash Ketchum and Thomas the Tank Engine.

The special is somewhat polarizing among the fandom, with some loving it, and some hating it. If you've seen some of my earlier posts, you probably already know how I feel about this.

Anyway, let's take a look at Miraculous World: New York – United Heroez

We start off with a logo letting us know this is going to be the start of a series of specials called Miraculous World.

Yeah, I'm sure that'll be remembered among other great cinematic universes like the Dark Universe and Ghost Corps.

In all seriousness, this is actually a pretty decent opening. It has some nice visuals that inform the audience of the globetrotting gimmick seen in the special, and the orchestral cover of the Miraculous Ladybug theme sounds pretty badass.

The special truly starts off in the middle of an Akuma fight, where we see that Mr. Pigeon is taking inspiration from Startrain's plan to escape to the one place that hasn't been corrupted by capitalism... SPACE! Apparently, this is the 51st time that Ladybug and Cat Noir have fought him, which makes you wonder if Hawkmoth is either running out of ideas, or if he just wants to see how insane Mr. Pigeon's plans can get for the hell of it.

Ladybug and Cat Noir transform into their new space forms that they've obviously had for a while, given Alya's familiarity with their names... even though those forms probably would have been useful when they were fighting Startrain. And this is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of things this special retcons.

We get a few interactions between Ladybug and Cat Noir to give new viewers an idea of what the Love Square dynamic is like, with Cat Noir fawning over Ladybug after she leaves, and Marinette gushing over a new poster Adrien is in. I'll get back to this later,

After that, we see a brief clip from a student film teaching the audience about the real life friendship between George Washington and Marquis de Lafayette (the latter actually becoming one of Washington's close advisors during the Revolutionary War), and how it lead to the completely made up, “French American Friendship week”, which is basically an excuse for Marinette and Adrien's class to go to New York for a week.

Their teacher, Ms. Bustier isn't going with them because she's having a baby (God help us if the writers resort to pregnancy jokes next season), so the only other teacher in the school, Ms. Mendeleiev, will be supervising the class instead.

Adrien isn't able to go to New York because his father won't let him, and even he lampshades how predictable this is. But as soon as Lila suggests spending time with Adrien, Marinette immediately declares she will try to get Adrien to come on the trip with everyone, because he's her friend... and then Alya mocks her for saying that in the very next scene.

And here is the first problem with this special: The way Marinette's crush on Adrien is portrayed.

We're supposed to see Marinette as being in denial about her feelings for Adrien, but when you think about how Season 3 ended with Marinette realizing Adrien and Kagami (who will make an appearance in this special later on) are happy together, it makes sense that she wants to do this. She wants to move on from her crush on Adrien and try to be friends with him.

Unfortunately, her “best friend” Alya isn't willing to let her move on, which is extremely hypocritical when you remember how often she teased her for her behavior around Adrien, to the point where her other “friends” made bets about Marinette's hesitance to confess to him (Cat Blanc). Does she even know about Adrien and Kagami?

And throughout this special, rather than acknowledge Marinette's decision to move on, she constantly teases Marinette about how she still has feelings for Adrien, instead of simply leaving her alone. She reaches salt fic levels of unlikable in this special.

It doesn't help that Marinette's anxiety around Adrien is cranked up to twelve in this special, with her constantly stammering, or fidgeting around to the point where she struggles to get through a door. Twice. And as always, this behavior is only going to be played for laughs, because the showrunners are running out of ways to make Marinette suffer for comedy. And it only gets worse from here.

While watching a news report about a necklace and sabre George Washington had given to him by Lafyette, Nathalie, bedridden from the events of the season finale, tells Gabriel that the necklace in question is actually a lost Miraculous.

And as soon as Marinette arrives, Gabriel tells her that he's going to let Adrien go on the trip. His reason?

Gabriel: Letting Adrien go to New York will be simpler than hiding my absence here from him. Besides, this will allow me to continue keeping an eye on him.

Yeah, he seriously thinks it's a good idea to send his son to the same place he's planning to attack as part of one of his plans. At least you could make the argument that whenever Adrien is endangered during an Akuma attack, he's simply caught in the crossfire because he's in the wrong place at the wrong time, like with “Style Queen”. Here, Gabriel is intentionally letting Adrien go to New York, while claiming that he will be able to monitor him while he plots to attack the city. This is like if Grand Moff Tarkin let his son go to Alderaan for vacation. And again, it only gets worse from here.

Though Gabriel waits a day to tell Adrien he's going to New York, because of he did, we wouldn't get any scenes of Adrien moping around about how much his life sucks. Well, that and a scene of him and Kagami, where the latter kisses him. This is Kagami's only scene in the special, and she isn't mentioned again after this.

As Ladybug, Marinette tells Cat Noir she's going away for a few days and trusts him to guard Paris as long as he alerts her of an Akuma or Sentimonster. What will happen to the Miracle Box Marinette inherited from Former Master In Name Only Fu is never explained.

To Adrien's credit, it's Plagg that convinces him to go on the trip even though Ladybug trusted him, and even then, it takes a little bit to convince Adrien, showing he still takes his job seriously, with him coming up with a plan in case an Akuma attacks. It's not perfect, but it's something. That all goes to hell later on, though.

We then see Gabriel once again talking to Emilie's corpse about his plan.

Gabriel: Blah, blah, blah, Emilie. Blah, blah, blah, blah, I'll get Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous this time for sure. Blah, blah, blah, blah, I'm such a good father and sympathetic villain.

Oh, sorry. That's how I hear most of his monologues to Emilie these days. My bad.

The next scene features something I bet you've never seen before, Marinette being late for something. Thankfully, Luka gives her a ride to help her catch up, hoping that the trip will “give her some clarity”, most likely referring to her conflicting emotions. Marinette then kisses Luka goodbye and gets on the bus. This is Luka's only scene in the special, and he isn't mentioned again after this.

On the plane, it turns out that Adrien is conveniently sitting next to Marinette, prompting Alya to tease Marinette yet again while making this face.

Alya: (smirking and talking in a very smug tone of voice) Awesome, Marinette! Go and sit next to your “friend”! So you two can enjoy a nice flight together! A very long flight.

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Alya continues to relentlessly tease Marinette and makes fun of her crush for no real reason, suggesting Marinette get off the plane because “New York is the most romantic city in the world after Paris”. And this gives her a goddamn panic attack where she frantically tries to run off the plane. Remember kids, if someone has some kind of anxiety or social awkwardness, it's perfectly fine to tease and make fun of their behavior, and even exploit it for your own amusement.

And after some unfunny hilarious slapstick involving Marinette on the plane, Alya continues her streak of treating Marinette like her plaything.

Nino: If only this trip could help Adrien finally come out of his shell.

Alya: And if only it could help Marinette be more honest with herself and clearer about her feelings!

Nino: Operation New York?

Alya: Operation New York!

Nino: Let's help them loosen up!

Alya: After all, isn't the United States the land of the free?

Well, the only thing you actually got right about America is forcing others to do things they don't want to do. Just ask the Native Americans.

It's scenes like this why Alya is portrayed so negatively in salt fics. And this happens throughout the special. Now, while I'm not really a drinker, I'm guessing there's at least one person reading this post right now who is. So I have a little idea for a game. Every time Alya acts like a terrible friend to Marinette, take a shot. I'd just have a donor ready in case one of your kidneys gives up on you.

After an admittedly nice scene of Adrien thanking Marinette for convincing his father to let him come (undercut by Marinette creepily commenting on Adrien's cologne as they hug), another problem with this special rears its ugly head, as a man with oddly-colored skin arrives on one of the plane's wings.

Alya: Oh, no! That's Techno-Pirate, the supervillain who steals technology!

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Yeah. This is happening. The special is just casually introducing this new supervillain, Techno-Pirate as well as some other superheroes, neither of which had any buildup before, not even a throwaway line They're just here now.

So some of the American superheroes are to save the day, now, I guess. Majestia, the Superman knockoff, helps steer the plane back into position, her robotic daughter, Uncanny Valley, helps fix the plane's broken wing, while Knightowl and Sparrow, the Batman and Robin knockoffs, deal with Techno-Pirate. And everyone just treats this like a regular occurrence.

Marinette: Wow! That all happened so fast! I didn't have time to transform or help out!

Adrien: Good thing the American superheroes were here. I couldn't have transformed here. I'm supposed to be in Paris!

Plagg: Relax, Adrien! Let the local superheroes handle their own problems.

I have so many problems with this plot development. Just how common is the knowledge that there are other superheroes besides Ladybug and Cat Noir in other countries? How have they never been mentioned until now? Why is everyone just accepting the fact that there are other superheroes?

I get that these characters weren't conceived around the time the show started, but the way they're just thrown into the story is just so confusing and does so many things to hurt the narrative instead of helping it. In other episodes, Majestia and Knightowl were only seen in comic books, and Ladybug and Cat Noir were seen as the only heroes in the world because the world itself was fairly down to earth, barring some more advanced technology (the police's weapons in “Origins”, Hawkmoth's lair, Max's robot, Markov, the space dumpsters in “Reverser”, and the AI in Startrain).

The fact that New York is apparently filled with all kinds of superheroes for very mundane things like directing traffic and selling hot dogs just makes the Miraculous seem less important. If there was more work done to better integrate them into the story, like maybe making them an American secret or something, it could have worked. To quote a character voiced by Jason Lee...

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And the sad thing was that Power Rangers was able to pull something like this off far better in 1995. During the third season of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Master Vile had successfully reversed the Earth's rotation, turning the Power Rangers into children (yes, it runs on Superman logic, just go with it). Because of this, the Rangers are unable to morph, with the villains free to attack the city. In response, Zordon sends out a distress call to another team of Power Rangers from the planet Aquitar.

Now I know what you're thinking. If Zordon had the ability to contact another team of Power Rangers for help, why did it take him so long to do so? The episode immediately answers the question by pointing out that Aquitar is a planet made entirely of water, so it's incredibly dangerous for them to head to a planet like Earth, making their intervention a last resort. And even after they come, a major plot thread is finding ways to keep the Alien Rangers hydrated, which only gets worse when the Alien Rangers' enemy, Hydro Hog, arrives to drain Earth's water while teaming up with the main villains.

The integration of the Alien Rangers into the story generally feels natural, and there is a clear explanation as to why they haven't joined the battle until now, and even then, still place some hurdles for them to overcome. Here, the special just wants the audience to immediately accept the fact that there are hundreds of superheroes in New York.

So as Marinette and Adrien's class arrives in New York, we see Sparrow watching over them, referring to them as “the little croissants”. That's another thing the special gets right about America: casually making racist comments.

Uncanny Valley's civilian form, Aeon, sees Marinette and Adrien, and, of course, she says that they're “made for each other”. If only the writers actually bothered to give us evidence of that fact that everyone loves to say for some reason. Though we do get the only instance of sanity regarding the Love Square in this special, where Sparrow's civilian form, Jess, calls out Aeon for thinking of getting them together.

Aeon: Those two are made for each other.

Jess: Seriously, Aeon? Not again!

Aeon: But I am programmed to help people, Jess!

Jess: Just stop meddling with people's private lives!

Also, I had already mentioned the unfortunate implications of Aeon being programmed to “help people” in an earlier post, but I still want to reiterate that I don't think any of that was intentional at all, and I definitely don't think a single writer on this show is actually racist. Everyone got that? Okay, moving on.

Jess and Aeon are assigned to watch over the Parisian students while they sneak out to a party on the rooftop of the hotel they're staying at, where they meet another superhero, Hot Dog Dan. He gives random people magical hot dogs that give them temporary superpowers. Marinette and Adrien share one, and they both start flying before Adrien offers to slow dance with Marinette.

Okay... It's clear they they're trying to reference an earlier episode, “Despair Bear”, by having Marinette and Adrien dance to the same song they danced to in that episode. The problem is that the context isn't right.

Adrien is dating Kagami, and he's offering to do this... why? What makes him so interested in Marinette all of a sudden? I get that he doesn't realize Marinette has feelings for him, but if someone says they only see you as a friend, do you offer to slow dance with them? Especially if their reaction to your offer is recoiling in fear?

I'm sorry, writers, but you can't try to recreate some of the magic you had in earlier episodes with Adrienette when you have clearly established Lukanette and Adrigami as official relationships at the moment. And don't give me any of that “that's not the point of the special” crap. The season finale showed Marinette and Adrien getting together with Luka and Kagami respectively, so it's natural that a lot of people were looking forward to seeing how they worked as couples. I'll get back to this point later on.

Meanwhile, Gabriel has made his way to New York, and decides to akumatize the arrested Techno-Pirate into Technolizer, asking him to steal Lafyette's sabre from the museum instead of the necklace.

Back to the museum, Alya and Nino decide to send Marinette and Adrien into a room alone where they're locked in and attacked by the supervillain Solutide...'s hologram, which was all part of Jess and Aeon's plan. In a city where there is a superhero and supervillain on every street. They seriously planned on giving Marinette and Adrien a near-death experience to get them to realize their love for each other.

That's... pretty fucking demented.

What if Marinette and Adrien did something reckless in their attempt to escape? They could have seriously gotten hurt. Hell, what if the scare gave either of them a heart attack? And let's say either of them found out what the plan was (which would be pretty easy, given “Solitude” is a hologram). Do you think either of them would be happy with Alya and Nino, even if they confessed their love for each other? And none of them even think to apologize for what they did, and this scene is never mentioned again. To quote a certain internet reviewer. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING!?

Though to be fair, the scene before was the only scene where Alya gets to use a brain cell in this special by pointing how wrong that plan is... for a second before she goes along with it. So close, Alya. So close...

So after Adrien gets a news report revealing that Robustus is attacking Paris (even though Markov is with them in New York), while Marinette isn't contacted by Cat Noir. The situation only gets worse when Technolizer attacks, getting the sabre in the process.

Sparrow and Uncanny Valley try to fight him off, but are quickly overwhelmed, with some of the latter's technology getting stolen by Technolizer. Marinette and Adrien transform and help out the two heroes, naturally being confused by the other's presence.

But while the four heroes chase after Technolizer, Hawkmoth shows competence for once and steals the necklace in the process, while revealing that the Robustus attacking Paris was actually a Sentimonster created by Mayura.

During the fight, rather than focusing on stopping the already dangerous supervillain powered up by Hawkmoth, Ladybug decides to trash talk Cat Noir instead. I get that she's angry at him for not following through on his promise, but can't she wait until after the fight?

Ladybug: (mockigly) “Just go and rest easy! Yeah, leave Paris with me!”

Cat Noir: I-I didn't know I was going to leave! It was a last-minute decision, that's all!

Ladybug: Do you realize that because of you, there's no one in Paris to protect the city?! Why didn't you tell me that you were leaving?!

Cat Noir: I was afraid you'd get angry!

Ladybug: And you were right, because as you can see, I AM angry!

To quote our recently inaugurated president, will you shut up, man? People say I'm too harsh on Cat Noir for the way he acted during episodes like “Syren”, but this is basically the same thing. Ladybug is prioritizing her own feelings over stopping Technolizer. Yes, she has a right to be angry at Cat Noir, but all she has to do is wait until after the battle to chew him out.

And during the battle, Ladybug outright says she can't trust Cat Noir anymore, making the latter flinch, so Technolizer throws him into Uncanny Valley with his Cataclysm activated, killing her.

In her anger, Majestia punches Technolizer through several buildings before Hawkmoth recalls the Akuma inside him before helping the villain get away. Ladybug casts her Miraculous Ladybug, fixing Uncanny Valley, but that's not enough. Knightowl is pissed, and orders Ladybug and Cat Noir to hand over their Miraculous, not listening to why they're so important, so the two run away.

To make things worse, the two find out about Hawkmoth's plan, and Ladybug explains she can only use Miraculous Ladybug to fix damage caused by a specific villain, and since the Sentimonster is gone, she can't do anything.

In his grief, Cat Noir admits that everything that happened is his fault, so he renounces Plagg and hands over his Miraculous to Ladybug before running away.

So... this scene.

This. Scene.

Where. Do I. Begin?

First of all, this is what causes Ladybug to lose trust in Cat Noir? Not the multiple times he disobeyed her orders because of his own personal feelings? Not the constant flirting and unwanted advances even though she's made it clear she doesn't see him that way? Not the time he trusted an evil doppelganger of Ladybug over the real one? It's this? Cat Noir leaving Paris alone while a Sentimonster attacked?

Okay, let's say that Cat Noir decided to stay in Paris after all. What was he supposed to do when Robustus attacked around the same time as Technolizer? What was Ladybug supposed to do when she found out about Robustus in Paris? Was she supposed to abandon New York and head back there or focus on helping the American heroes?

Second, who does Knightowl think she (yeah, she's a woman, I'll get to that in a bit) is ordering Ladybug and Cat Noir to hand over their Miraculous? What authority does she hold over them? Why should they listen to her? Why can't they simply explain why their Miraculous are so important, and that they can't give them up? Why doesn't Ladybug just explain that she's now the Guardian of the Miraculous? In fact, why does Majestia go along with the order? Ladybug still saved her daughter's life! If anything, she should be sticking up for the two.

There's actually a Superman comic where Captain Marvel storms a police station to interrogate a criminal who killed his best friend so he can find out who hired him. Though he comes close to doing it, Captain Marvel ultimately doesn't kill the criminal's boss, but still flies over to Mount Everest to grieve his friend's death.

Enter Superman, planning to call out Captain Marvel, but instead, he sees him crying. He explains that the boy killed was his best friend before revealing his identity as Billy Batson. Superman's response?

He goes to the wizard Shazam and demands to know why he did this to Billy, furious that a child was forced to go through stuff like that. While Shazam can't take back the powers he gave Billy, he encourages Superman to reach out to Billy, leading to him revealing his identity as Clark Kent to the kid.

I'm not saying that Majestia or Knightowl should have called out Master Fu or ask who made Ladybug the Guardian (as awesome as that would have been), but the point I am trying to make is in that comic, Superman made the effort to understand what Billy had been through, and understood what happened. Majestia and Knightowl made no effort to do anything like that. In fact, they never even knew Hawkmoth existed, which I call bullcrap on, given that he once MOVED THE PLANET AWAY FROM ITS ORBIT. Were you all asleep that day? Why didn't you do anything to help Ladybug and Cat Noir fight Hawkmoth? Were you expecting them to just fight this magical terrorist on their own? They don't have the same support system the American heroes have, and they could really use the help.

And third, Cat Noir. Yeah, just because I'm calling out Ladybug doesn't mean Cat Noir isn't taking any heat either. Again, I have to ask, this is what makes him give up? Keep in mind, when he was Aspik in “Desperada” and saw Ladybug get captured by an Akuma, he reversed time 25,913 times to try and save her before he threw in the towel. At the same time, he was willing to quit in “Syren” because he claimed Ladybug didn't trust him. The level of Adrien's willingness to keep going is incredibly inconsistent, and this doesn't really help his reputation as a character.

And then there's the fact that he's bailing on Ladybug when things are at their absolute worst. Yes, Marinette also briefly gave up in “Origins”, but that was after her first battle, and she was overwhelmed by her screw-up endangering countless lives in Paris in addition to being a nervous wreck even before she got her Miraculous. But here's the difference: She took responsibility. She realized people were in danger, so she jumped into action to save Alya and Cat Noir. Even then, she acknowledged her failure and felt unsure of herself, with Cat Noir helping to reassure her, showing the emotional support their partnership has.

Adrien, who has been a superhero for months, and has faced some pretty stressful situations, as soon as things head south, he immediately gives up and leaves Ladybug to fend for herself while two separate cities are in danger. And he knows that she has no other allies, because Master Fu ran away at the end of the last season, and Miracle Queen exposed the identities of the other temporary heroes. She has nobody to go to for help. He doesn't even show Ladybug her civilian form to apologize, just so he can't get any flak in his regular life. He just gives Ladybug his ring, and literally runs away.

A wise man once said “With great power, there must also come great responsibility.” Adrien has shown no responsibility at ALL in this special, barring the one moment I mentioned earlier.

It's nothing more than a forced emotional moment that has no buildup. This is basically the same with basically every time Miraculous Ladybug tries to be emotional. The writers think that despite never really having any tension or character arcs in their story, they can just have their characters cry out of nowhere, and suddenly, it's a deep moment? That's not how writing works, idiots!

Back at the hotel, Jess and Aeon are getting chewed out by their mothers (Who are the civilian identities of Majestia and Knightowl), and have a conversation about being superheroes... less than a few feet away from the French students. Though at least Barbara, the civilian form of Knightowl (again, I'll get to that later) calls out Aeon and Jess for their stupid “fake supervillain plan”, so there's that I guess.

So we cut to a press conference where the President of the United States, Camilla Hombee (An anagram of Michelle Obama's name, because Astruc has made it clear what his political views are) advises everyone to stay inside while Techno-Pirate is still an active threat. Why does this seem so familiar? And then she... transforms into a superhero too.

Oh, for the love of-- THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES IS A SUPERHERO?! The person in charge of the country and relations with foreign nations is a superhero too?! If she's the president, why didn't she do anything to stop Hawkmoth?! I get that America doesn't really care about news from other countries outside of America, but you would think that the frickin president, WHO IS A SUPERHERO, would at least acknowledge the existence of a supervillain in Paris as a threat!

GOD, this is stupid! And it only gets worse...

Gabriel sends a car to pick up Adrien, realizing the city was too dangerous (I still don't get the point of sending him here in the first place), causing him to tearfully say that he “wouldn't have minded being stuck here a little longer with a friend like her” before leaving. And then Alya...

Alya: What is wrong with you, Marinette?! Couldn't you see that he was just waiting for you to tell him to stay?!

Marinette: What-? But I...? He...? He made his choice. What did you expect me to do?

Alya: It doesn't matter what I expected you to do! Who's Adrien to you?! A friend or more than a friend?! There will never be a better time to be clear with yourself, Marinette! Do you want him to leave or do you want him to stay?!

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NO. You do not have the right to say ANY of that! It doesn't matter what YOU expected Marinette to do? This whole special, you've been teasing her about her feelings for Adrien, and forcing her into uncomfortable situations with him all because you want your OTP to be a thing. And now you're saying Marinette had a choice the whole time? Marinette expected herself to get over Adrien and start to see him as a friend, AND YOU WOULDN'T LET HER DO THAT! For three seasons, Alya has made fun of Marinette's crush on Adrien, while at the same time, has constantly pushed her into situations where she was clearly uncomfortable around him to the point where she discouraged Marinette for trying to move on in a previous episode (Frozer). And then in this special, she trapped them in a room with a fake supervillain (which is this world's equivalent to pretending to be a terrorist) just to get them to confess their feelings for each other. AND THE WHOLE TIME, IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE MARINETTE'S CHOICE???

If Obilvio didn't make me stop caring about Alya, this was the moment that actually me despise her.

And the worst part? The narrative frames her as being right. This is somehow enough for Marinette to run out in the pouring rain while a supervillain is lose in New York, with nobody even trying to stop her, to chase after Adrien's car, where she tearfully confesses that she still loves him after the car gets away.

What is the point of this exactly? We already knew Marinette liked Adrien last season, her nonexistent character arc was learning to get over him, and now she's supposed to learn she's still interested in him? What about Luka? Are we just going to ignore Luka? What about the fact that Kagami is already in a relationship with Adrien? None of these questions are never explained.

Gabriel finds the lost Miraculous, the Eagle Miraculous, which represents Freedom, and gives it to Techno-Pirate, turning him into Miraclonizer. Using the Eagle Miraculous' power, Liberation, he can undo any mental boundaries someone has, but since he's using it for evil, it basically drives several heroes crazy without their own moral codes. And while I claimed it was an original power in one of my earlier posts, the more I think about it, Liberation is really just a different version of Reverser's airplanes. All they did was just phrase the explanation a different way.

So despite being a city full of superheroes, Miraclonizer manages to drive every hero crazy in a matter of minutes, with the exception of Jess and Aeon. So do none of the other heroes have sidekicks? Is there not even a Young Justice or Teen Titans-esque team in this city? I'm just saying, if they have a hot dog superhero, there should be at least more than two sidekicks in New York.

Aeon goes to search out Ladybug and Cat Noir, and because of some technobabble stuff, Aeon can easily figure out their identities. Again, this was something I already talked about in an earlier post, so I won't harp on this scene. It's a dumb retcon in a special full of dumb retcons, what else can I say?

So Aeon goes to find Adrien on his private plane to give him back his Miraculous... even though wouldn't it make more sense for Aeon to use it instead to save time? I didn't mention this, but right before this scene, Majestia was pushing the moon towards the Earth. Time is kind of the essence here. It also would have saved us more of Adrien's whining.

Uncanny Valley: Cat Noir, New York and Ladybug need you!

Adrien: (looks at where his ring used to be) I'm no longer Cat Noir.

Uncanny Valley: To err is human, apparently!

Adrien: My mistakes are unforgivable. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.

“i'M sO tOrTuReD. fEeL bAd FoR mE, dAmNiT!”

Cut it out with Angstdrien Depreste already, writers. It's gotten old.

And despite making a big deal about how much he failed Ladybug, he immediately jumps back into action as soon as he hears a recording of Ladybug saying she needs him. I know it's supposed to be a heartwarming thing by showing him wanting to support his lady, but to me, it just comes off more like he needed an ego boost. He was fulling willing to let Ladybug save the day on her own, but as soon as he heard how important he is to Ladybug, he's more than willing to become Cat Noir again. Because it's not like he could regret his decision to abandon his partner, and realize it isn't too late to make up for his mistake, right? That would imply Adrien is motivated by anything other than his feelings for Ladybug. Then there's the fact that as soon as Cat Noir returns, Ladybug instantly forgives him, despite saying earlier that she didn't trust him. It's almost like that whole debacle was only there to eat up about fifteen minutes of the special's runtime.

Hawkmoth issues an ultimatum to Ladybug and Cat Noir. Miraclonizer is ready to fire a nuclear missile (though the dub calls it a rocket, let's be honest, it's not), fully intending to start World War III unless Ladybug and Cat Noir give up. He's seriously willing to risk making The Day After a reality all for his wife. But remember, you're still supposed to feel bad for this literal war criminal.

Ladybug, Cat Noir, Aeon, and Sparrow manage to get to Miraclonizer's hideout, the Statue of Liberty, and take back the Eagle Miraculous, with Sparrow taking it and transforming into Eagle.

And then there's the design of the new hero's suit. While I'm glad it isn't another skintight jumpsuit, and the wings are a nice touch, people have raised some questions regarding Eagle's design, and how it feels like the animators really want to remind the audience that Jess is Native American. I mean, it looks like what Zack Morris wore in that one episode of Saved by the Bell barring the headdress.

And this might be because I'm a history major, and I just brushed up on this subject in class last semester, but I'm a little uncomfortable with the fact that someone actually thought it was a good idea to give the Native American girl the Miraculous of the Eagle, the symbol of America which represents Freedom. I don't want to go too into detail about this, but, uh... let's just say if you know about the history of the relationship between the Native Americans and the colonists, you'll get why this raises a couple of red flags.

Does this mean I think the showrunners are racist? No, it was an honest, albeit questionable mistake. Do I think this is the worst Native American representation on TV. Oh, hell no. Chakotay from Star Trek: Voyager was a walking amalgam of every Native American stereotype in the book, and was featured in an episode that said, with a straight face, mind you, that Native Americans used to be backwards savages, so a group of white aliens genetically altered them so not only could they survive the Earth's harsh weather, but so they would become more creative, leading to the birth of Native American culture. I apologize to any Native American human being who had the misfortune of learning about that for the first time. But over all, Jess is far from the bottom of the barrel of poor Native American representation.

So Jess uses her powers to calm every superhero down, while Ladybug and Cat Noir de-evilize Technolizer. And of course, Hawkmoth assumes that since there are other lost Miraculous, “they will be his”. Maybe focus on getting the two Miraculous you originally set out to get first, buddy.

So Knightowl and Majestia apologize for their behavior, and we learn that apparently Knightowl and Sparrow have been around for at least since the Wild West, and that the Knighowl and Majestia we've been following have been keeping up the illusion that the original duo are still alive for several generations.

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Was this special written in the 1950's? Why make a big deal out of this? Why is it so important that Knightowl and Sparrow both have a Y chromosome? The president is a woman and a superhero, the strongest superhero on Earth is a woman, and you were just saved by a female superhero all the way from Paris. I don't think people will be afraid of getting cooties from this Knightowl. Hell, we live in a world where if you don't like a female superhero, people automatically hate you. Just ask the people who didn't like Captain Marvel.

We see that Alya still learned nothing, as she continues to tease Marinete for daring to call Adrien her “friend”, as our special mercifully ends with the class sending a picture of a banner to Adrien to show their support... but not before a brief scene where a Guardian tries to take Eagle's Miraculous, before she makes him instantly pull a 180 as soon as she suggests he help to “create a new generation of heroes together”.

I'm guessing this is meant to be yet another tie-in to yet another Miraculous side project that will go absolutely nowhere. You might as well have had Nick Fury, oh, I'm sorry, Mick Flurry, recruit Eagle and Uncanny Valley for the ZAG Initiative.

But it doesn't matter, because the special's over, and once again, I never have to think about it ever again.

So... what else can I say that I haven't already said. This special sucks.

While the animation is honestly some of the best to come out of ZAG, and the action can get pretty good at times, it honestly doesn't really mean much when the story surrounding it is just so abysmal. Basically the only thing I liked about the Season 3 finale was the idea that the status quo was shifting in terms of Marinette's feelings for Adrien, and this special just ruined this interesting idea by the end faster than you can say “the series finale of Quantum Leap”.

Alya is at her most unlikable here with everything she does in this special. Almost everything she says to Marinette is either some catty comment or making fun of her trying to get over Adrien. Because God forbid she actually try to grow as a person and not let her life revolve around a cute boy. It's stuff like this that I genuinely wonder why Marinette even bothers to stay friends with her when all she does is tease her and force her out of her comfort zone. And according to co-director Wilfried “Winny” Pain, Alya is meant to be like Jiminy Cricket to Marinette's Pinocchio. I don't know which version of Pinocchio he read as a kid, but clearly, it's not the version we're mostly familiar with.

I'm still glad they didn't have Cat Noir revert back into his Ladybug-simping self we all knew and loathed in Season 3, but that doesn't mean he's still enjoyable in this special. The angsting about how sad Adrien's life is stopped being interesting years ago, and it's only done as a way to get the audience to care about him, but it comes off more like the writers are holding the audience at gunpoint and demanding they sympathize with him for bailing on the world when they need him the most.

I thought Aeon was a pretty likable character. Maybe it's because I'm a sucker for socially awkward robot characters like Data or Penny. I just wish we got to know her more, and why exactly her mother felt the need to play God by create her instead of just adopting like what Olympia and Barbara presumably did with Jess.

As a matter of fact, despite being played up as a big deal, there's still a lot about the American heroes that we don't really know about. How were the “United Heroes” formed in the first place? How did Majestia get her powers? What exactly is the origin of Knightowl and Sparrow? Why are all the American heroes so open about their identities to the point where the President's identity as a superhero is so well-known she can casually transform on TV? Hell, Ladybug and Cat Noir barely even interact with any of the heroes, and that includes Uncanny Valley and Sparrow/Eagle.

Generally, the special feels very rushed at times, with a lot of ideas not really being utilized. According to Astruc, there was actually a lot of things cut from the special, including a deleted subplot with Chloe and Ms. Mendeleiev. Although, given Astruc's track record, I don't think it would have been a good one given Chloe is involved.

This leads into a personal theory I have regarding this special, that I want everyone reading this to take it with a huge grain of salt. As much as he claims that he can't change anything he's already written, I personally believe that Thomas Astruc rewrote part of this special so Adrienette could get more focus to renew interest in the ship.

Hear me out on this. During Season 3, there were a lot more shipping debates between Adrienette shippers and Lukanette shippers, with the latter gaining more traction that season. It was also the season where other ships like Felinette, Kagaminette, and even Maribat became more prominent. And all of these ships were featured in post-Chameleon salt fics bashing Astruc's sunshine child, Adrien.

So, given how Astruc already dedicated an entire episode to bashing Felix fans, why wouldn't he use something like the New York special to convince the shippers to have more faith in the Love Square? After all, aren't Adrien and Marinette made for each other? Astruc has already said so on his Twitter.

Unfortunately, right now, I like to describe the Love Square as “Shrodinger's Relationship”. While the show can claim that Adrien and Marinette would make a great couple, they simultaneously show no real chemestry happening between the two in favor of Love Square shenanigans. And yes, I'm actually thinking of talking about the Love Square in a future analysis post.

And then there's the fact that Astruc himself said that everything that happened in this special is going to lead into the events of Season 4. What do I have to say about that?

Bring it.

I already talk about Miraculous Ladybug itself on this blog almost as much as I talk about its creator, and since I have a Disney+ account, I might as well subject myself to everything Season 4 has to offer. I've already seen one of my favorite shows go to hell, so why don't I chronicle another one of my favorite shows going to hell as well?

So yeah, as soon as a new episode is officially released on Disney+, expect a review from your boy IOTA.

I survived Season 3, so let's see if the number 4 is as unlucky as some countries say it is.

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

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snake primary (lion model?) + snake secondary (rapid fire bird model)

I am pretty sure I am a snake/snake sorting, with my primary (burned snake) as a rock solid certainty. I am not doing so well on figuring out how models work, and if I have them. It makes me doubt my secondary sometimes. Let me give you a few examples:

Last autumn, I was making a lot of soup from scratch. I started with recipes, but pretty soon I was just throwing things together.

Definitely sounds like an improvisational secondary.

(I'm a Badger secondary, and my baker friends make fun of me, because I treat recipes like spells I follow them so exactly. I only recently learned that the reason you put put in salt in water is to make it boil faster. I'd been doing it, but I might as well have been putting it in there to banish the bad spirits.)

But I always made sure I had some kind of home-made broth to hand, and some kind of soup magic stuff (heavy cream, milk, cream cheese, etc.)

This could be rapid-fire bird (or a rapid-fire bird model.) You feel comfortable improvising, but only because you already know a lot about soup.

I only went back to recipes when I wanted something new or specific. Then I went and posted a kind of improv instruction for soup making (take some meat, any meat, sear it and and pair with some veggies, any veggies, etc.).

So far, I'm agreeing with you. Improvisational secondary, maybe some kind of bird model to give extra structure and support.

I train new colleagues. When I start with a new group, I like to have all the prep-work done so I can concentrate on the social aspects and not get bogged down finding the right worksheets, or shit like that. I plan my first few words, and if there is no better opening, I use them and go from there. I have a general structure of what I want to teach them, what methods to use and in what order. It is adapted from experience, and the more rigid guidelines we are given by our client. I am constantly tweaking it when I'm not training. If I feel my group needs something different, I will abandon the plan, let them guide me on a detour, and bring them back when it feels right. Somehow, it still works out 95% of the time, especially now that I have found my confidence and know it works^^

This sounds exactly like how I teach. And for me, what is going on is the bird model prepwork making me comfortable enough to just vanish into my Courtier Badger. I've only recently been learning that I can... relax on the prep, a little. That sometimes too much prep gets me in my head, and sabotages me a little. Like I can just trust myself in the moment, and things work out just fine.

I have found the shc system a week ago, and I have been obsessed ever since. I got curious because a friend mentioned it. They were really into it, and I like sorting people if the system makes sense. I dug in, got hooked, and finally found words to describe everything I had figured out so painfully about myself in the last few years. Especially my snake primary was such a surprise and relief, let me tell you.

It's a good system. And it's... uniquely able to talk about certain kinds of things.

I am thinking there is at least some sort of bird model here, giving my improv some structure?

Took the words out of my mouth.

I was flirting with rapid fire bird as a secondary, but now I have put it into words, not a chance. I like my (contained) chaos too much^^

So far, I don't have too much to add. It's all very well laid out, and well understood. I do like the dramatic structure that happens when someone writes in convinced their a Lion and I start going into why they're actually a Snake but hey. This is nice. This is mellow.

Let's talk about badger secondary model instead. Just to get the elephant out of the room: I hate hard work, it feels slow, dull, and like there should be a better method somewhere. But I know that sometimes, you just have to do it if you want to build a reputation, or you know you need to rely on the goodwill of your community in the future.

This is so like... Rapid-fire bird processing Badger. Just the grudging respect of SURE badger secondary can be a useful tool I GUESS.

I feel awkward keeping shallow contact with my colleagues, I forget if they have kids, and I have been experimenting with discreetly taking notes on what they value.

This is so Bird.

It's not very successful because I can never remember them when it's necessary, so I nod and figure it out by asking "knowing seeming" questions, anyway.

This is so Snake.

What does resonate with me is the part of "becoming what they need" making myself into the tool I need, making myself seem reliable by being relatable. I mostly start a one-on-one conversation by mirroring the other person's mood.

Courtier Badger and Snake secondary can look very, very similar - especially from the outside. This right here could be a description of either.

It is only recently, and only with people I know well, that I have found the seductive power of railroading them instead. I can now cut short a friends whining by summarising what they're saying in a blunt and charming manner, and make them smile instead. Not always, but now I know it works, I use it more and more often.

... but this could only be Snake. Doing this sort of thing consciously and on purpose is so huge and so key. Courtier Badgers do have to believe it, and so they have a way of vanishing that Snake secondaries don't.

And I think I am exaggerating my "go and figure shc out, and be loud and open about it on tumblr" part, because it's what feels right at the moment, but also because the friend who got me into it is a burned lion secondary. They like me charging in, taking it for myself, and they admire anyone who can be honest and vulnerable in public.

Very Double Snake. Using a specific approach, specifically for your friend. Also you say your primary is burned... but I'm not getting burned primary from you. But you're also not really writing about your primary, so.

I guess I am making myself appealing, not just relatable like before.

What a perfect way of describing the difference between Snake and Badger secondaries.

Huh. Fading badger performance as snake gets confident? With another badger performance for work that I do grudgingly.

Performance is right. Just a shallow thing you wear over the top, that barely seems there anymore. You work like Bird, not a Badger.

Now lion. Well, lion is... difficult and easy at the same time? I have to take charge, be the boss, and make split-second, straightforward right-and-wrong decisions when I am leading my group: Call out anyone who doesn't play by the rules (though I usually don't care much if it is not annoying). Decide on, and hand out, the appropriate punishment for someone being late, again. Deal with brewing conflict in a head-on manner. But that is something I am still learning, and I am not very good at it.

Some of this is primary stuff - WHAT you do "be the boss, hand out punishments" versus HOW you do it. It's sounds to me like you're building a Lion primary model over your Snake primary, which is normal. Snakes with safe people almost always model something else. (And I already know you've got a friend that's a Lion primary... Snakes do like to match their People.)

It's possible that you're also building a Lion secondary model, or that one of your Snake secondary masks looks a little like a typical lion secondary, but my take is that most of this is coming from a primary model.

I tend to let conflicts slide, trusting they will work it out among themselves.

I feel that this speaks to the water-like nature of the Snake secondary, and a desire to always go around the problem.

or at least be professional about it and not bring it into the training. Definitely a lion performance here, and one I get frustrated with fast because I am not very good at it.

I have my lion moments, like I described with my way of being open and vulnerable about shc here on tumblr. But I wouldn't do it if it didn't feel right, or more specifically like something I need to heal and get better. I know I need to be vulnerable to heal, and it's relatively safe here, in the anonymity of my internet persona.

Hmm. Interesting. I'm not getting Lion from you... if this is a healing exercise, maybe you're practicing existing in your Neutral state?

I have to write it all out, and some of it just happen to come out as advice for other people's asks. It would be nice if I get some recognition for it in the community, and I love the fact that my friends reads it and tells me they like it.

My take on that sort of thing is going to be annoyingly Badger, so I apologize in advance. For me it's all about consistency. Lay a foundation and then build, one brick at a time.

Now that I have written it all out, I think it's probably the most snake way of arguing myself out of any secondary model I could come up with^^ I guess I don't have one, or if I do, I am dismantling it because I need things to be simple for a while. I am tempted to post this on my own blog, but I know it will get a bigger audience with you.

Yeah, no Lion secondary here.

and maybe help someone in a similar situation. So I will be patient, and I thank you for inviting us all to use you as a sounding board for our own shc issues. I have to stop going through your likes, I'm ruining my obsessive fangirl/shc vibes tumblr with beautiful rl-things and creative human interactions^^

I do what I can. I hope I help. :)

Thankyou, @sevilemar for the submission.

#sortinghatchats #sortme #double snake #snakepri #snakesec #rapid fire bird #lion primary model

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eve-is-obsessed · 3 years

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1x02 I’LL DEAL WITH HIM LATER rewatch

spoilers for all of Killing Eve. my musings on how V and Eve are set up in this episode and how that affects the rest of the show.

I have to start this post with a shout out to the hair/ wardrobe department bc V's jacket and braids in the opening scene are *perfect.*

and in that scene, when the man throws the phone at her and immediately apologizes? peak humor

awkward meeting between Eve and Carolyn characterizes Eve so well!!! She’s so socially inept and uncomfortable and in awe of Carolyn but also cares SO DEEPLY about her passion project. plus it's just very funny

Carolyn telling Eve “You can have two [coworkers].” *Looks around* “I recommend small ones” is SO GOOD. doesn't top the rat drinking soda with both hands, but still.

Sebastian 🥺 he is doing his best and being a model boyfriend and V didn’t deserve him. Also his accent is so cute. But he did steal the perfume from his girlfriend’s purse so maybe he should have thought that one through

V's iconic "I wanted it to match my jacket" response to her black eye. That is all.

Konstantin is literally always in V's apartment. I forgot how much Konstantin/ Villanelle there is in S1. but like. every time V goes home, he's there. If I actually spend time thinking about this, I realize that it's probably to impress upon the viewers that 1) V literally has no one in her life except for him (she kind of killed her boyfriend, so) and 2) that he is In ChargeTM and wants to keep a close eye on V, but that actually V just does whatever the hell she wants. she likes being in control, she likes being a little bit rebellious, but she also cares about Konstantin and about doing her job well.

similar characterization in the psych eval - V wants to be in control of her situation all the time, and the way she does that is by manipulating the people around her and how they perceive her. everything is a performance to V, and it's fun for her. even the touching scene with Konstantin, when she hugs him, it's to get her drawing back. maybe there was real emotion there (I think it's likely there was, because V does seem to genuinely care about Konstantin) but her actions are still to achieve a goal. she only really starts acting erratically when Eve comes into the equation, because she can't entirely control or "use" her feelings towards Eve.

also, while we're talking about the drawing, interesting that she says it's not Anna, it's her mother, but then immediately makes a joke about her mother's hair. as far as I can remember, this is the only time that V mentions her mother, ever, and it's just to deflect attention with humor.

first example of tension in Eve and Niko's relationship, with the suitcase and the "are you leaving me?" joke. Eve doesn't tell Niko where she's going until pressed, and this lack of consideration clearly (and understandably) hurts him. also, the suitcase is stowed away, dusty, etc, showing that it's really never used. when is the last time Eve took a vacation? apparently a long time ago. continues characterizing her life as boring, mundane, even trapped, and shows the MI6 job as an escape from that.

and the second conflict between Eve and Niko sets up another theme in their relationship - arguing about how dangerous the job is. Niko just wants Eve to be safe, but Eve doesn't care about her safety (or arguably anyone else's), she wants to catch Villanelle. She wants her life to be exciting, even (especially?) at the expense of safety. so their core desires clash, and maybe they could have made it work, but Eve, as we see here, isn't really willing to listen to Niko and just brushes him off as often as she can. basically, upon rewatching, I can see this early that they're doomed as a couple. (and I'm salty that their relationship lasted SO FAR into the third season. ew.)

gonna talk about Bill for a sec - in 1x01, his relationship with Eve is clearly boss/ employee, but they have good banter and genuinely like each other. when the situation is flipped in this ep, Bill comes off as a jerk, constantly undermining Eve and trying to invalidate her ideas. in the next ep, this seems completely resolved because the viewer is supposed to like Bill before he dies tragically... ooof. I'll be nice to Bill and assume that his rude behavior in this ep is more a result of him trying to cope with the new power dynamic than misogyny, although it's probably some of both.

end of episode!!! here comes the gay panic because THEY BOTH REALIZE AT THE SAME TIME THAT THEY'VE MET BEFORE. and that incredibly charged first interaction that they've both been thinking about turns out to actually have been REALLY IMPORTANT. and Eve's "I think I've met her" - she's not scared, she's EXCITED. aaaaaa. these bitches gay.

overall, a solid episode. V kills some more people, Eve obsesses some more... classic. 10/10. also, this didn't really fit into my analysis, but Elena is very pretty and I love her.

ok I'm done blabbing for now. 1x03 post coming soon, 1x01 linked here. love you all <3

#killing eve #killing eve analysis #killing eve 1x02 #villanelle #eve polastri #villaneve

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aerinsfables · 3 years

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Flower Shop AU, part 3

See part 2 here.

——

Monday morning found Bracken back at the shop again. He normally had Sundays and Mondays off, but the sister who worked with him and their mother had had a conflict that day and asked him to cover her shift. “Besides,” she’d reasoned, “You’re always there, anyway.”

He’d made to protest that, despite her comments, he did in fact have a social life (not an entirely truthful statement), but then he saw her excited face and remembered that she was planning to surprise her girlfriend with a lunchtime marriage proposal, so he ultimately smiled and told her he’d be happy to take her shift if she promised to bring his soon-to-be sister-in-law over that night for dinner.

Today’s list of tasks included signing for a delivery of several different types of lilies, making some general “have a good day” and “I love you” bouquets for passersby who might wish to stop inside and pick up some flowers for their friend or significant other during the day, put together a special birthday order to be delivered tomorrow, purchase more flowers which would be needed for a couple of large arrangements that had been ordered for an upcoming funeral, call a few customers to let them know their orders were ready to pick up, and of course, more corsages and boutonnières for the coming weekend. His father would be arriving later that morning to assist, but Bracken always opened the shop, so he’d be on his own for another two or three hours.

Bracken took a peek into one of the refrigeration units inside the shop and pulled out two vases with arranged flowers and colorful ribbons. He placed those on top of the front counter and returned twice more to pull out a total of four additional vases, all of which he placed on the countertop. His trained and careful eye examined each of the arrangements to check for droopy buds, wilting leaves or other problems, but he found none; his mother had assembled these particular arrangements, and her work was flawless as usual. He called the first customer to let them know their order was ready to be picked up, and was midway through dialing the second customer’s phone number when a flurry of motion caught his eye and caused him to turn his attention to the street outside. The shop itself was located alongside a relatively busy street which usually experienced a lot of pedestrian, bicycle and vehicle traffic, but Bracken’s jaw dropped when he saw what had managed to pull him out of his work mindset.

Kendra. She was being pulled by a taller man - a bit roughly, Bracken noted, and also very obviously against her will - from the cafe across the street toward a car which had been parked not far from the very flower shop where Bracken was located.

Well. That wasn’t going to stand.

He was out the door in a flash, without bothering to lock up. Kendra looked like she was in trouble, and although he still didn’t really know her, he’d be damned if he sat back and witnessed anyone being forced to go anywhere or do anything against their will.

“You think that was funny?!” Bracken heard the man yell at her. “You leave those crazy ass flowers on my doorstep, then ghost me all weekend?! What the hell is your problem?!”

“Leave me alone!” she cried as she struggled to break free of his hold on her. “Stop!”

Run faster.

“Hey! Kendra!” Bracken called as he ran. His hail grabbed the attention of both parties, and he managed to intercept them before they made it all the way to what Bracken figured was the man’s car.

“Get lost,” the man told him.

“Let me go!” Kendra shouted, tears streaming down her face.

Bracken placed his hands on top of Kendra’s arm, then pried the man’s hand off of her and set her free. “The lady wishes for you to leave her alone,” he said simply. The man, who had dark, curly hair and what would probably have been handsome features if his face weren’t contorted in rage, yanked his hand out of Bracken’s grasp and moved to take hold of Kendra again. Bracken stepped between them, effectively blocking the man’s access to Kendra with his own body. “Excuse me,” he said. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s time for you to leave.”

“I told you to get lost,” the man positively seethed. He looked like he was going to hit Bracken, who was prepared to defend himself, when another man suddenly dashed in front of Bracken and knocked Kendra’s assailant to the ground. Bracken knew the newcomer - his name was Warren, and he and his brother owned the cafe across the street.

“Who the hell do you think you are, dragging Kendra around like a ragdoll?!” Warren yelled. “I warned you. I straight up warned you. Get out of here. If you know what’s good for you, you will never come around here again. Got it?!”

The man on the ground held a hand to his cheek. Bracken could see a bruise already forming below his eye. “You’re psychotic,” he said to Warren.

“And you’re an astounding piece of trash. If I hear about you hurting Kendra ever again, you’ll be buried trash. Have I made myself clear?” Warren’s face was flushed, and his fists quivered with what Bracken recognized as barely-concealed rage.

Bracken turned toward Kendra, whose cheeks were wet from continued tears and who also cradled her arm - the one the man had grabbed - in front of her. “Are you injured?” he asked as gently as he could.

She shook her head no.

“Do me a favor and get her out of here, Bracken,” Warren said, his eyes trained on the guy who was still lying on the ground. “I’m going to stand here and make sure this loser leaves.”

A small crowd of people were gathering to watch the show, and Bracken agreed that it would be best to remove Kendra from the situation. With a careful hand, he lightly touched her back and gestured toward the flower shop. “Would you like to come inside for a moment?” he asked.

Kendra didn’t verbally respond, but she let him guide her away from the scene and into the store. Bracken led her into the back room, the one he and his family primarily used to store their tools and miscellaneous supplies (vases, plastic wrappings, ribbons, the die-cut machine and materials, shears and scissors, etc.) and pulled out a chair for her to sit on. He then retrieved a couple of water bottles from the refrigerator in that room and passed one to her. She accepted it, but didn’t say anything, and continued to weep.

Concern flooded Bracken’s brain. He didn’t know who that guy had been, but after witnessing the altercation outside, he could understand why Kendra wasn’t in a condition to speak at the moment. “May I see your arm?” he asked.

Kendra hesitated, then stretched her arm out in front of her. It was red around her wrist, and looked tender. He wouldn’t be surprised if bruises started to form later. “It looks alright,” he stated. “I don’t have any ice, unfortunately, but I do have another chilled water bottle I can offer you, if you’d like to use it as a cold compress for now.”

“Th-th-thank y-you,” she gasped as she tried to control her sobs.

His heart went out to her. Was it inappropriate for him to hug her? Probably. She didn’t know him! And he was positive that he was making her feel awkward while he just stood there and watched her cry. He placed a tentative hand on her upper arm. “Would you like to have some time by yourself?”

She gave an emphatic nod at that question.

Bracken withdrew his hand and said, “You’re safe here. Stay as long as you need to. I can order in lunch for the both of us, later, if you’d like. My father will be here in a couple of hours, but I can tell him to leave you alone.” He cast his gaze around the room and found a few boxes of tissues, opened one, and set it down on a countertop near Kendra. “For you,” he said. “I’ll be right outside this door, making phone calls and otherwise managing the front. Feel free to call for me if you need anything.”

A shaky “thank you” was received, and he pulled the door shut as he exited. Later, when she’d calmed down, perhaps he’d ask her some of the questions which were bouncing around in his mind. Who was that guy? Did she want to press charges? Get a restraining order? Was her house safe from him? What had she been doing around this area?

Not that he was upset she’d been right outside - he was actually glad for that. He had no idea how she knew Warren, and couldn’t have predicted his involvement, but at the very least, Bracken was glad to have been able to help in some way.

Speaking of Warren. His entrance into the store caused the little bells at the front to ring. Bracken greeted him and said, “She’s safe, she’s in the back room here,” and pointed to the door behind him. “She wanted some privacy.”

“Thanks for your help out there,” Warren said. “That piece of shit finally fled the scene after he screamed some more. Dumbass thinks he can hurt Kendra. She’ll be staying with me, at least until he’s no longer a threat. Idiot.”

“I’m glad she has someone like you to help her,” Bracken replied. “Her wrist, where she was being pulled around, may start to bruise later. I didn’t notice any other injuries, thankfully.”

Warren placed a hand on Bracken’s shoulder. “Seriously,” he reiterated. “Thank you for your help. If you hadn’t intervened…” he trailed off. “You gave me the extra few seconds I needed in order to jump over some customers and get out there. Thanks again.”

“It was no trouble,” Bracken said. “I couldn’t watch that happen and not do something about it. Kendra doesn’t deserve that treatment. No one does.”

“It was trouble, but I’m grateful you were there.” Warren removed his hand. “Is it okay if I go see her?”

“Be my guest,” Bracken replied. “If you know her well, I really think she could use a hug.”

“That girl is my honorary baby sister,” he said. “She’ll get as many hugs as she wants, and then I’m taking her to my house where she’ll get all the comfort food she could ever need, along with the TV remote. I’ll give her the rest of the week off, if she wants.”

“She works for you?” Bracken asked, unprepared for that particular realization. She worked across the street?

“Yeah,” Warren said. “That douchebag showed up and took hold of her right when she was walking in for her shift. Busiest time of the day. She didn’t even make it to the front door.” He looked at the door behind Bracken again, who caught his cue.

“Go right inside,” Bracken told him. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks again,” Warren repeated. “Seriously. Thank you.”

It wasn’t much longer before Warren and Kendra exited the flower shop, with the former shielding the latter from view. Bracken bid them both farewell, and best wishes, then resumed making phone calls to his customers.

Later that afternoon, shortly before Bracken left for the day, an email popped into the store’s mailbox. He recognized it as an answer to one of the surveys they always sent out after someone picked up their order. This one was from Kendra.

A five-star ranking, accompanied by the simple words, Thank you.

He broke protocol and responded back to her. You’re welcome. Please be safe.

—————

Read part 4 here!

#brackendra #fablehaven #aerinm writes #flower shop au #part 4 is mostly written already as well #apparently this is my therapy project 🤷‍♀️#imma go back to work now

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sleeplessandstubborn · 4 years

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Emily in Paris or why I stopped caring about the protagonist and I started rooting for the French. Episode 1.

Let’s be clear. I was planning to root for the French anyway. They are in the neighbouring country, I quite like them and I was prepared to confront and make fun about all the stereotypes in this series. Because this was exactly what I expected. Funny, lighthearted and totally braindead (wink wink) escapism in an instagrammed to the top Paris which has the same resemblance with the real one than Vincent Minelli’s... But without Gene Kelly. So what did I think of the first episode?

Meet Emily Cooper from Chicago. She’s young, she is dynamic, she struggles to be liked by everyone and at the beginning of the series. She is a marketing executive about to be promoted or so she thinks.

... Because her boss Madeline (played by Kate Walsh) is going to Paris in order to take work with Savoir, a luxury firm the company (sorry I forgot its name) has just adquired. Madeline is overjoyed because working for a year in Paris is one of her dreams and because French men like mature women, as probed by the fact that their young and hot (sic, but this blog agrees) president married his high school teacher. We’ll never know which plans Madeline had for Frenchmen, whether they are young or hot or not. The case is after two minutes in the series she vomits, which means she’s pregnant and she can’t go anywhere because it’s an truth universally aknowledged that pregnant women can’t go on with their plans.

It’s in the next scene when we meet Emily’s boyfriend, Doug, and when we learn she’s going to Paris in Madeline’s place, in spite of being unprepared and not knowing the language. At this point one wonders how it’s possible that no one else in the company can replace Madeline. All of them are monolingual? Our plucky heroine is not discouraged by the litle fact of knowing virtually nothing about the country in which she’s going to live during the next twelve months. She and Doug - the moment you see the scene you know it wont’ go well - agree on a long distance relationship.

And after a very well done transition, we have crossed the ocean. Yes, this is well done, and I say it unironically. Episodes are short, your show is called Emily in Paris, so, what’s better than having your main lady already in the French capital in less than five minutes. The series goes to the point in this aspect and it’s a good thing to spare us of unnecesary scenes.

So Emily arrives to her apartment with pretty views, confused about in which floor she’s supposed to live (running gag ahead) and already hit on by a French guy on a suit that looks like the love child of Gabriel Attal and Albert Rivera (check it, seriously). I couldn’t take him seriously not only because of that but also because he said that Emily’s appartment was a chambre de bonne. Not by any means. Look, I’ve never lived in Paris but I know that apartment is huge when compared with a real chambre de bonne.

Off to know her working place, Emily has this HUGE smile pasted on her face. I don’t know if this supposed to make her charming and likeable. For me - it’s true than I have this European perspective - she looks a mix between an anxious puppy and a psychopath. I would be scared and would avoid her at all costs. The cultural clash is about to happen.

Yeah, I would look at her too, Julien a.k.a. token black character. You have probably heard about the lack of diversity in this series, I won’t abound in that, others have worded it better. It also an established fact that French people smokes at their workplace, even if in the European Union we have these things called smoking bans that won’t allow it.

And enter Sylvie, Emily’s Parisian boss and supposed main antagonist, à la Devil wears Prada. What to say about Sylvie other than I adore her? Her clothes, her style, her sarcasm. As any rational being would do, Sylvie is pretty dismayed to learn that Emily does not have the slightest idea of French and its already wanting to impose her American perspective and her alleged knowledge of social media. The problem is I don’t know if her posts on Instagram really deserve that much attention. Clash ensues with the rest of her new coworkers. C’est la cata! they comment. I quite agree.

Our fish-out-of-water takes an evening afterwork stroll (this Paris is like one square kilometer and public transport is something you mention but never appears) and calls her boyfriend to state the entire city looks like Ratatouille, which legitimately made me laugh. I am not sure if this reference means that Emily’s filmic culture is that limited or if it’s her boyfriend the one who only knows a movie which takes place in Paris and that’s one is Ratatouille. We know that Emily at least has seen Moulin Rouge and that makes two so probably is Doug’s fault.

Back at home, and since she has forgotten how to count, Emily attempts to open the wrong door. Immediately a wild Frenchman appears; it’s Gabriel, played by Lucas Bravo probably one of these young hot men Madeline would target. He takes the intrusion reasonably well. Especially when it’s discovered that Emily only knows his region, Normandy, from Saving Private Ryan. That makes three films, so definitely I think Doug is the problem here as far as filmic culture goes.

Next day Emily picks a yellow outfit and goes to work, purchasing a pain au chocolat in her way to work. I confess I was underwhelmed when discovered that there wouldn’t be any joke about the Great Civil War that has been going on in France since its earliest days: the partidaries of pain au chocolat vs. the ones of chocolatine. A ferocious, merciless conflict unknown by most nations. A lost opportunity not making this woman someone from the South who bravely defies Parisian conventions calling it chocolatine. I’m team pain au chocolat btw. Naturally when she discovers the wonderful world of flavours she makes another Instagram post. She’s earning more and more followers, Heavens know why.

However, she has a Big Problem with Doing Research. Example given, she doesn’t know her schedule - a problem which could have been solved with reading numbers - and arrives two hours early to her workplace.

Once there she discovers she can’t sit with the cool kids. No one wants to lunch with her, so she decides to miserably sit by herself at the park, where we met her best new friend. Her name’s Mindy, she’s from Shangai and she’s working as au pair, while teaching Mandarin to the two blond children she’s looking after. We’ll later discover more about her. She instantly detects the American in Emily and offers her help to this awkward but at the same time arrogant newcomer.

Meanwhile at Savoir, Emily has earned a sobriquet. La Plouc, which is adopted by Sylvie and most of her coworkers even if Luc seems more or less reluctant to say it. La Plouc means the hick, as she instantly discovers thanks to an online translator. It’s really not a good day for our heroine, and she cames back home - remember that thing about this Paris being one square kilometer? - walking. Co-worker and someone who for some resason reminds me to the posh-y version of Philippe Poutou - check it - Luc passes by as she sits lonely by herself and apologizes for calling her la Plouc earlier. He also claims she’s arrogant for coming to Paris without speaking or even understanding French - which is true - and tells her people is probably scared as her new, modern ideas. Which makes no sense at all and it’s probably a white lie.

Meanwhile and for some reason her totally inocuous posts in Instagram makes her earn more and more followers. During the night, her oblivious to timezones boyfriend call her and they have - or attempt to have - a totally awkward and unsexy session of cybersex. At the end Emily is so frustrated that she tries to use her electric vibrator which leads to the short-circuit of the entire building. Fortunately before she has the oportunity of getting closer to the device in question. And that’s how Episode 1 ends.

What did I think? It’s fun and pretty to look at. Even prettier to rant about. As long as your brain remains carefully shut off in the meantime and you don’t take it that seriously you are going to enjoy it I guess. At least it’s my case.

Still frustrated for not covering the Great Civil War tho.

#emily in paris

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atlascas · 3 years

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DEANCAS FIC REC

(last updated 7/1)

FINALLY. this is like. just a place for me to rec and write excessively abt the fics i've been reading lately. it won't be organized but it WILL be very earnest and i'll keep it updated as i find/remember more. also i have obnoxiously high standards when it comes to fic so these ARE the cream of the crop, if u will. the god tier. the s tier.

very loosely organized into "newer fic" and "classics." these are subjective categories. do what you will

✨ = new fic on the list

💖 = in my brain rent free!

CURRENTLY READING

these are the fics that i’m currently reading! may or may not get recced. usually i read the first couple paragraphs/lines and if i like the writing it gets bookmarked and put on this list.

lazarus needs a robe of scarlet thread by herrosesneverfall, 90k, canonverse au. dean starts getting stigmata. when i was getting back into spn there were a LOT of religious fics flying around bc that was the Hot Topic of Discussion. this was one of them

Three weeks ago, Dean woke up in a pine box. He thought dealing with the nightmares was going to be the most difficult part of his new life after Hell, but at least they were something he could understand. Something he could deal with. Something he deserved.

Then he began having agonizing visions of crucifixion. Wounds appeared on his body out of nowhere. Wounds that refused to heal and coated his skin with the sickly sweet smell of roses.

Stigmata are said to be the marks of saints, but Dean is not a saint and the wounds are only the beginning.

kingdom come by ahurston, 8.7k, coda to 15x18. cas gets to go home. im gathering all the s15 fix-its to my heart and holding them close

Cas wakes up on the coast of Maine. He makes his way home.

hunger by ellispark, 10.8k, s13 au. dean grieves cas, post s12 finale. perfect writing perfect awful heartwrenching characterization so far on dean’s end especially towards jack. nuanced emotional writing

Dean takes his meal and throws it away, plate and all. He's not hungry. How can he even begin to eat, knowing what he kept from Cas — what he kept from both of them?

They could have had something, and now all Dean has is this gaping, empty hole in his stomach, in his chest, and he has to learn to breathe and eat and move around it.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog, 60.8k, canonverse. cas loving dean in all permutations of humanity, throughout time.

“And what’s the point of it?”

“Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

NEWER FIC

“newer” just means “i discovered it in 2020/2021 after coming back to spn fandom” so it very well could have been published before 2015 but really who’s checking. not me that’s for sure.

💖 so says the sword by komodobits, 85k, s4 au. cas guards the michael sword in the beautiful room. this is easily the MOST obvious rec on this entire list but it was the first fic i read when i got back into spn this year and jesus christ it set the bar sky fucking high. the way they create a coherent mythology out of the mess that is spn canon is incredible.

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

assimilation by komodobits, 5.6k, coda to 12x01. mary meets dean and cas and they go to find sam. such good character studies of all three of them. the best mary pov fic i’ve read

Mary always thought you were supposed to be able to tell. That you could just look at someone and know they were – you know. One of that sort. It’s not supposed to happen to her son.

cuckoo and nest by komodobits, 10k, ambiguously canonverse. dean and cas navigate relationship anxiety. cute, in character, and their relationship is realistic and the conflict well-written and emotionally nuanced and really really really good.

For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.

It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

💖 one white lie by komodobits, 11k, au. cas panics when trying to ask dean out and has to fake being a jehovah’s witness. it’s adorable and hilarious and it’s been ages since i actually got butterflies at a kiss in a fic but this did it. it did it. it felt like someone swaddled my soul in a cashmere blanket and kissed me on the forehead

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

a crash course in someone else’s history by annie d (scaramouche), 11.5k, set during s6. cas comes to as his s4 self without any memories of the past two years and has to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s kind of like so says the sword. you’ll know it when you get to it.

Castiel is captured inside a trapping circle of holy oil set by Dean and Sam Winchester. The brothers call him "Cas", claiming that he has amnesia and that he is obligated to help them take down Crowley to atone for his betrayal of them. It's the strangest story Castiel's ever heard, and one he doesn't have time for because he's only just raised Dean from Hell and has work to get back to.

💖 cas and dean’s adventures in gardening by ahurston, 19k, post-canon au. a series featuring dean and cas living in the bunker, human. cas is very into plants. i read this yesterday actually and it made me smile SO much it’s just so lovely and sweet. i’m also a sucker for any fic where cas has a garden. he deserves a fucking garden okay

In this post-God world, everything is different. A little quieter, a little softer. Cas grows a garden, Dean cooks, and they take care of each other.

tall grass by aeli_kindara, 57k, post-s12. dean and cas live in the bunker on their own, and cas grows a garden. i did say i love fics where cas has a garden. plus domesticity, plus some good case fic, PLUS dean and cas’ relationship is so gentle and good

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.

Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

in a week by renrub, 2.3k, post 15x18. cas is in the empty. dean saves him. this is genuinely the best “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fic i’ve read so far like conceptually this entire thing just fucks. when cas is cycling through the barn scene. god. SO well written

Castiel is outside a barn covered in sigils. He frowns. This isn’t right. This has never been something he repented for.

i won’t even wish for snow by annie d (scaramouche), 5.6k, college au. cas goes to the winchesters’ for christmas. honestly scaramouche fics belong in the classics section bc she’s like an og deancas writer but whatever. mistletoe! banter! good in-character au! this fic’s got it all

It’s the third year that Castiel’s spending Christmas with his best friend’s family, and he expects it to be much like the previous two. Then mistletoe happens.

convenient husbands by annie d (scaramouche), 39k, canonverse au. cas is a phoenix, dean is a hunter. they get married and have a sick psychic bond. unexpectedly fluffy considering how the fic starts and i love the banter so much and dean/cas’ relationship gets fleshed out and organically developed it’s very cute

"It's only temporary, right?" Dean says. "Just until you're healed up, and then we'll never have to see each other again. So what do you say, Castiel, do you want to marry me or not?"

cinderwings by bendingsignpost, 181k, cinderella au. cas goes to a masquerade ball to save his people from an eternity trapped in a void. he meets prince dean. i can’t tell u how much this fic drew me in - thru good worldbuilding, but mostly thru cas’ social awkwardness. like it works PERFECTLY to his advantage in this fic and reading how expertly he manipulates social situations w/o any fucking idea what he’s doing is both hilarious and inspiring

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings.

as the crow flies by bendingsignpost, 3.4k, au. dean and cas go on a roadtrip. cas has wings! it’s so dreamlike and meandering and the slowburn is so good. honestly it reminds me of stevebucky/stevesam post tws era roadtrip fics if ur hip LMAO

Cross country road trips with Cas are the best.

long-term relationship by bendingsignpost, 2.7k, au. dean and cas have a Serious Conversation about their relationship.

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers, 7k, ambiguously canonverse. dean is trans. dean and cas are fucking and lowkey hiding it from sam. perfect character study PERFECT trans dean fic it’s so fucking well-written

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

💖 the love story of the runner up by margo_kim, 4.7k, ambiguously canonverse. cas tries dating other men. bear with me here. this is an outside pov fic from an oc named miguel who is WONDERFULLY characterized and very endearing like i find outsider/oc pov to be on Thin Fucking Ice bc it always ends up as fandom/author self-insert but miguel is his OWN MAN. he gets his own lil arc and everything. dean and cas are concentrated perfectly crystallized versions of themselves and the little glimpses we get of them are amazing. ALSO i wrote like 9k of an spn vent fic (basically the same premise but w an oc named marcus) back in like. freshman yr of hs. so when i first opened this fic i was like what the fuck someone’s been in my google docs. very weird experience 10/10 regardless

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”

“If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story.”

For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

sunshine by northernsparrow, 8k, set during s13. dean and cas have a long conversation about their Profound Bond. the description left me off-balance (it really. really truly says “dean is straight in this fic” like okay bro WEIRD hill to die on) but it pulled through w the relationship study and reassurance and snuggles. a sweet fic

One-shot with a single conversation between Dean and Castiel, set in a late-S13-ish world. Gabriel, Cas, Sam & Dean are all living in the bunker together, Gabe's been cracking certain jokes, Sam's found a certain book, Cas is injured and isn’t healing... and it's all making Dean wonder if his angel friend might have some sort of a "bond" with... somebody? Whatever that means.

Maybe it's time for a talk.

💖 still life by catchclaw, 16.5k, post-s8. cas, newly human, goes to live on his own for a while. he and dean maintain a relationship thru the phone. this is LITERALLY the only first person fic i fucking respect okay like i was skeptical! i really was! but the pov is PERFECT and also my man kevin tran is in this fic and i love him and miss him very much. oh and cas going off to explore humanity on his own..............perfect arc. very much in character we love that for him

Dean'd always thought that falling in love was a capital letter kind of thing, an Important Event you carved into the calendar of your life and never, ever forgot. But with he and Cas, it wasn't that simple.

it’s mostly cowardice, and bad timing by ferritin4, 1.6k, pre-canon. actually this one is just a dean study it’s not deancas but i spent an entire night looking for it and i need someone else to read it too. dean is smart!!! SAY THAT

Dean gets his GED.

a list of reasons the bunker shouldn’t get a sofa by lizbobjones, 5.6k, set during s12. sam and dean and mary and cas haul a sofa back to the bunker. cute domesticity and fluff

Let me count the ways that this is a terrible idea.

no kingdom to come by domesticadventures, 16.8k, canonverse. dean and cas deal with being stuck in quarantine in different ways. this is the one and only quarantine fic i’ve read and it’s really good lmao. dean and cas’ relationship is so organic and tentative in this one

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo, 8.4k, canonverse. it’s like dean’s being cursed to have bad hookups with men. SUCH a funny fic and the deancas tension is so simple and sweet and GOOD. plus cas is so enjoyably characterized here he’s so human and worn in and experienced in his own unique way. perfect use of rowena too

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

turn of the year by kototyph, 3.9k, canonverse au. sam and dean get stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the winter solstice. what i wouldn’t give for a full 80k of this verse actually. also i went on a kototyph binge after reading shut up put your money where your mouth is and they have a SOLID spn repertoire

Fifteen minutes later, Dean gets back in the car with empty hands and ice in his fucking eyebrows. “Get the map out,” he says through chattering teeth, sticking numb fingers under his arms.

Sam holds up the battered 1995 Rand MacNally they keep in the side pocket, turned to a page of uninterrupted green. “We’re going to die,” he announces.

💖 bullets in the gun by kototyph, 4.9k, canonverse au. cas is a cop (i know. still) who gets kidnapped by dean in an unfortunate turn of events. GOD this fic is SO FUNNY. cas’ canny and strategic escape attempts render him a very active VERY funny pov character plus the hate attraction to dean is PERFECTLY WRITTEN VERY BELIEVABLE. dean’s kindness also shines thru even as he literally holds cas hostage like!!!! PERFECT characterization. both of them are so LIKABLE here. if you read anything on this list read this

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

as you will by kototyph, 1.8k, victorian au. cas endures a proposal mishap. it’s cute it’s funny it’s sweet!

"No?" Castiel echoes, dumbly.

and if i was looking too? by kototyph, 2.6k, au. cas is undercover where dean works. this fic is just so cute like. bird angels.................

There are some things Castiel hasn't told Dean, and there are some things he doesn't need to.

the most important thing by northernsparrow, 94.5k, s10 au. amnesiac cas raising claire until he comes across someone familiar. claire is so well characterized here i really loved her arc thruout this fic. she just wants her dad back and u can’t even blame her the author rlly does an amazing job creating realistic and heartbreaking motivations for her. oh and dean and cas (esp cas characterization!) are sweet in this but honestly the highlight IS claire for me

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

there’s only one sure thing that i know by blinkiesays, 20.3k, post-s5. dean goes to help cas out in ohio and they end up building a home together. i love the writing it’s rlly funny and sweet.

Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest.

💖 to an angel, love and worship are the same thing by geminisage, 10.3k, post s15 fix it. dean grieves cas - and then cas gets brought back back from the empty. i didn’t have this in my bookmarks so i MISSED it the first time around on this list but this was another one of the fics i came back to spn fandom to. it’s so fucking unique?? it actually reads like spn like i think fic tends to soften dean/cas up and makes them more emotional + emotionally intelligent than is ever shown in the show. here the dialogue/characterization adheres RIGOROUSLY to their communication in canon in that dean’s not overtly emotional, and cas is very reserved. they have to negotiate their relationship exactly like they would in the show. it’s all clipped conversation and anger and hurt and (warning btw) LOTS of internalized homophobia on dean’s end but it’s SO worth it. dean navigating his [GESTURES VAGUELY] everything is compellingly written, emotionally true, and PERFECTLY characterized. cas characterization also amazing like u rlly feel the quiet devoted bittersweet love. ok this was long clearly it’s a good fic go read it now

Just as Dean knew they would, the weeks do stretch into months, and then into a year. Grief never gets easier, Dean knows from experience, but you do get better at it. After all, you can get used to anything.

the violin house by teh_helenables, 8.5k, post-s5. dean and cas build a home after stull. so slow and lovely and sweet and gentle. i need to put this here so that i don’t forget it tbh. it’s very much dean as a war wife cas as the husband away on the front

The Apple Pie Life is a slow process, but Dean and Cas are getting there—until Cas is called for battle and Dean is forced to wait.

💖 muscle memory by komodobits, 18.9k, au. amnesiac cas wakes up three years in the future with dean in his kitchen. komodobits DOES NOT FUCKING MISS!!! i CRIED at the end of this i had NO INTENTION OF CRYING the rest of the fic isn’t even SAD i just had to sit there at the end of it w tears dribbling down my face. INSANE work of art

Dear Castiel,

Hello – it’s Castiel. This must all seem very confusing, and I’m sorry for that. Dean says to tell you that this isn’t some kind of ‘time-travel stunt’, although I’m sure that won’t be your first thought. I know it wasn’t mine. I’ve told Dean to leave now, as this is my notebook and I want everything in it to come from me – or rather, from you. I know you think it's the fifteenth of January, 2010, but it isn't. At the time of my writing this, the date is the fourth of October, 2013. Dean Winchester is your boyfriend of a year and a half, and you no longer work at the library, and in early 2010 you were hit by a car and hospitalised. I’m sorry.

a.k.a the 50 First Dates Dean/Cas AU where Castiel wakes up on a day just like any other, except that three years have passed without his knowing, and Dean Winchester is in the kitchen wanting to marry him.

don’t forget the experience points by annie d (scaramouche), 10.8k, au. cas is sam’s work friend, and he and dean get to know each other. genuinely an adorable fic. i adore cas’ characterization in this it’s snarky AND awkward AND confident in a way that i absolutely believe he would be if he had 30 yrs of human life under his belt

It's because Dean was an awesome brother than he took such an interest in Sam's new friend. No, really. What happened afterwards was mostly an accident.

actus fidei by manic_intent, 5.6k, canonverse au. dean’s a priest, cas is still his angel. i was HOOKED from the description alone like That’s Everything I Love in One Sentence. Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the very first time that Castiel manifests in front of Father Dean Winchester, he gets as far as "Rejoice, for you are blessed-" before Dean shoots him with a salt-loaded shotgun.

not with a bang but a yelp by strange_estrangement, 1.4k, canonverse. team free will leave yelp reviews. this isn’t d/c actually it’s just a crack-ish fic but the formatting is cool and the references are SO funny and so well done

What happens when you visit dozens and dozens of motels every year? You leave Yelp reviews.

the courtship of combat by bendingsignpost, 18.2k, medieval a/b/o au. cas is politically coerced into fighting in a courtship melee for prince dean's hand, and he teams up with two unexpected allies to do it. I KNOW HOW THE ABO THING SOUNDS but i swear it's done well - it's by bendingsignpost so ofc he puts his own spin on the premise. im absurdly into it. PLUS jack is in it!!!!!!! it's technically an unfinished series but the first part is so good just on its own

When pressed upon to mate for a political alliance, Commander Castiel dares to refuse his king. As “I do not wish to mate at all” is clearly the wrong thing to say, Castiel takes the other path and lies. “You must know my affections lie elsewhere, my king.”

King Michael studies Castiel’s face long and hard. Then, with a nod, he snaps his fingers, pointing to Castiel. “The Winchester omega.”

“Yes,” Castiel says with no real recollection of who that is.

The ruse of an unavailable omega works well enough, right up until that omega is no longer unavailable. Then, with what seems to be his entire nation cheering him on toward victory, Castiel must enter the melee to win his mate. Backed by allies, training, and his own natural talents, the only question is how well he can contrive to fail.

four letter word for intercourse by bendingsignpost, 194.7k, au. dean calls a sex hotline. OH BOY solid characterization excellent plot/premise like bendingsignpost is so good at turning absurd premises into realistic, believable fiction. also sex hotline fic is usually a BIG turn-off bc of the power dynamics/one-sidedness of a relationship based on sex work but. BUT. bendingsignpost does it well! it’s not weird at ALL i started reading and was immediately reassured abt its intentions and its plot direction

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

the tunnel of love by xylodemon, 21.4k, post-canon. case fic! dean and cas have to kiss on a loveboat to solve a case >:)

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."

Dean just stares at him.

when you have a future. by firebog, 17.6k, post-s8. dean and sam and cas learning to be human post-apocalypse. reminds me of robotmango’s writing! it’s kind of eccentric and very very sweet and funny.

Sam closes Hell. Castiel closes Heaven. The heroes save the day. There's no Heaven or Hell waiting to cause the next big disaster. There's no more end of the world. There's only a squirmy feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freedom. So, now what?

(Things I promise you in this fic: dog poetry, rabbits, and fluff)

six inch heels by alitneroon, 2.3k, canonverse. dean does drag! excellent fucking character study. prose is fantastic

Dean does drag on a whim, and ends up in way over his head.

sharing is caring by gateskeeper, 2.5k, canonverse. five times dean and cas shared something and one time they didn’t. look. sometimes u just need some saccharine tropey fluff. it’s VERY well written

Sam knows that Dean and Cas have shared a lot together, but ever since Cas became human permanently, it seems like they've been sharing a lot more.

Or: five times Dean and Cas shared something special and one time Dean refused to.

💖 empty spaces by schmerzerling, 60k, au. dean has to take care of his dying father, and takes up running to cope. that’s just the beginning. HEAVY trigger warnings for ED (specifically anorexia) and suicidal thoughts. there is a happy ending, but dean has to fight to make it there. god. okay. this is a dark fic. it’s also one of the most well-characterized fics i’ve ever read. dean’s spiral is excruciatingly accurate and written with the kind of wry compassion that comes from either extensive research or extensive experience. it’s also completely immersed in dean’s perspective - dean’s relationship w his dad, dean’s relationship w food scarcity, etc. it’s incredible. it’s kinda scary. it’s deeply sad. cas is explicitly autistic and it’s ALSO incredibly accurate and loving, and makes cas so true to his canon self. ugh. and i burst into TEARS at some of the accompanying art, which is so sparse and lonely and beautiful. 100/10 experience one of the best fics i’ve read this year

Dean is fine. The way he sees it, things are simple. He had a house and a family and food in his stomach, and now he doesn't. And yeah, that's a downer, but he's not going to let that stop him from being fine, because he's in control of the situation. He definitely doesn't need anyone to save him. And it's not like the weird guy with the nice butt from down the road is the knight-in-shining-armor type, anyway.

broken road by thegeminisage, 109.6k, 14x13 au. dean makes a wish and gets more than he bargained for. a lot of “john comes back” fics are kinda short on nuance, which this author has talked about a lot - and oh MAN does this fic deliver on nuance. john’s abuse is absolutely present, but his pov makes him a complex character instead of a flat caricature for dean to reject. and the way this fic resolves really makes it clear that the priority is dean’s emotional well-being over all else!!! this isn’t about dean taking the path fandom thinks he should take w his abuser (killing john, punching john in the face, etc), this is abt dean coming to terms w his abuse and finding his own emotionally satisfying way of resolving it. also dean and cas are in an established relationship and it’s very slow and sweet.

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

home is not a place by imogenbynight, 6.8k, post-s11. human cas struggles with belonging, and dean struggles with their relationship. this reads a lot like komodobits’ cuckoo and nest, but it’s its own sweet little thing. they watch movies!!! very cute

In which Dean is the oblivious one for a change.

love: a retrospective by xylodemon, 40.7k, post-s12. dean tries to deal w cas’ absence after s12 and reflects on their relationship thru the years. this was written before s13 aired, so - no spoilers - but jack plays a different role than he ends up playing in canon. it’s kinda fun seeing ppl’s theories pre-s13 tbh. makes me VERY glad that they took jack in the direction they did in show. anyway this is THEE definitive “they’ve been fucking all along” fic

Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning ─ not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker.

✨💖 if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee, 37k, post-s15 fix-it. cas gets broken out of the empty - and he immediately makes a break for it. new fave fix-it!!!! the writing is so understated and so straightforward - SO in character for cas tbh - that every single emotional beat feels like a PUNCH. and there are so many amazing character moments it made my chest seize the fuck up!!!!! perfect characterization perfect relationship moments perfect cas/jack parenting moments. the yearning over the phone is OFF THE CHARTS and spocklee makes the most of that tension!!!! PLUS old canon characters get to make fun appearances!!!!! i cannot recommend this shit enough

After the Empty, Cas has to spend some time alone. Orpheus tries to convince Eurydice over the phone that it’s okay to turn around now.

✨ before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10.5k, post-canon. dean and sam and cas tackle a monster of the week case with unexpected consequences. perfect pov perfect relationship moments SUCH GOOD TENSION. again this writing style just lets the tension dial up to 1000% every word is meaningful and it makes my chest hurt!!! spocklee SHOULD have blown up during the spn renaissance and i STAND by that

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

CLASSICS

isn't it cool how every person has diff fics they consider "classics?" anyway these are required fucking reading. if u've been around these will prob be old news.

💖 asunder by rageprufrock, 23k, au. dean and cas go to sam's wedding. i reread this once a year like a religious ritual.

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

💖 the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock, 15k, set during s5. dean teaches cas how to be human. mostly the sex part. literally the gold fucking standard of s4-5 era deancas fic and for deancas fic in general, personally

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

okay, cupid. by orange_crushed, 4.5k, au. dean tries to sign up for an ok cupid profile and has a revelation. as soon as i put this entry down i realized this entire fic rec was an exercise in futility, because if i could i'd literally just rec everything orange_crushed/robotmango has ever written. still one of THEE best authors in this fandom. go read all her fics. i’ll put the highlights here

"The dating thing?" Dean frowns. "Online dating is for weirdos. Robots. Dudes hanging out in their basements."

"You hang out in your basement."

"I have an air hockey table down there,” Dean says, icily.

💖 pwp: pie without plot by orange_crushed and majorenglishesquire, 82k, post-s8. sam and dean and cas quit hunting for a little bit to open a bakery. this is my comfort fic. i love it so so much.

he is in the kitchen with flour on his hands and an apron and there is flour on his forehead and cas leans across the counter and wipes it off with his thumb and dean says "thank you" and cas says "you’re welcome" very seriously and later dean makes apple turnovers and he only ruins them a little and sam realizes it’s not a real hunt like four days into it and he lets dean stay undercover for like a week and a half or longer maybe way longer because he is such a good everything

💖 la cucina by orange_crushed, 4k, post-s8. dean gets into cooking for a newly human cas. it's so gentle and loving and kind and makes me tear up every time. YES food is a comfort item and expression of love for dean. no i don't want to talk about it

Dean turns around and Castiel is picking through the jars, turning them over carefully to read the labels, totally engrossed. Dean watches him.

"Is there," Dean says, "uh, anything in there you like?" Castiel looks up at him and then back at the apples, sitting in a basket on the counter in their golden skins, ripe and pretty. Castiel smiles up at Dean.

"I don’t know yet," he says.

today, your barista verse by orange_crushed, 13.6k, coffeeshop au. a series of short sweet lovely fics where cas is a barista and dean is a smitten customer. literally the only coffeeshop au i respect

"Is that-"

"My number," says Dean, because he's a fucking champion, he's cool, he's collected, he's Captain Smooth of the USS Smoothtania, that's right. He is definitely not leaning against the counter for moral support. Cas doesn't looked seduced or impressed, though. He does not look like a dude who just met Captain Smooth and wants to ride the loveboat. He looks puzzled.

fata morgana. by orange_crushed, 6.6k, post-s9. dean is the king of hell. bela and cas team up to find him. bela pov. yeah you fucking heard that right BELA POV. BELA AND CAS!!!!!!!!!! makes me lose my mind i love everyone in this stupid desolate fucking hell wasteland.

The endless asphalt and broken road, the empty land and piles of human garbage, the unwanted ends of life, the cracked toys and broken screens and burning cars and gravel. Dean Winchester is the king of hell.

"Oh," says Bela.

That changes certain things.

💖 gran fury. by orange_crushed, 5k, pacific rim au. sam and cas pair up in a last ditch mission to save the world. permanently damaged me at age 15 and i've never recovered. major fucking angst warning.

They sit in silence and Castiel passes him the bottle. There’s not much left to say. Sam takes a gulp and it burns going down, like the cheap shit it is. He holds the bottle up against the light. He can see the Fury through it, distorted like a funhouse mirror. She’s a tomb but Sam loves her. Loves everything that’s left.

"To the end of the world," he says.

"To the end of the world," says Castiel.

💖 shut up (put your money where your mouth is) by kototyph, 24k, au. dean and cas get drunk married in vegas. dean renovates cas' house. this fic is SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered/expected and the entire series is fucking adorable go read it RIGHT now

Dean's done some pretty stupid things, but getting drunk-hitched in Vegas to a colleague he barely knows might just take the cake. His surprise husband, Castiel, is a little weird but likable despite that, and Dean figures they’ll go back to Boston, get a quiet annulment, and go their separate ways. Six weeks later, he’s still married to one of the strangest, most genuine and definitely most dangerously lov-- likable guys he's ever known. Dean doesn't know why or really even how it’s happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that he has divorce papers to file.

not part of the plan by annie d (scaramouche), 338k, arranged marriage au. cas is slated to marry a noble from the winchester house. things spiral out of control. if you’re looking for an extensive well-developed political au, this is fucking it. i love reading about political machinations so this was FASCINATING to me.

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

💖 all things shining by askance and standbyme, 142k, au. sam and dean and cas go on a hunt that's not really a hunt, and against all odds good things happen. it's beautifully written and has scenes that literally make my heart leap out of my chest with joy and awe it's just WONDERFUL it's a wonderful fic. incredible mythology too omg i found that the authors actually created the myth the entire story is based on - like they don’t pull a random one from history, they made one up THEMSELVES. they even self-published it on amazon if ur curious

Something in the world is waking up.

It isn’t long before it’s brought to the attention of the Winchesters and Castiel: miracles are spreading across the country, the paranormal seems to be shrinking back on itself—and it all has something to do with the missing prayer book of a traveling preacher who died over a century ago.

Dean is convinced it’s all the lead-up to another Apocalypse; Sam and Castiel aren’t so sure. Regardless, it sends them out on a less-than-typical road-trip, following the Mississippi and remnants of a very old story that seems increasingly to call to them. And along the way the trio learn much more about themselves—and the consequences and origins of love—than they’d ever have anticipated.

💖 broadway musical by griftings, 12.4k, crack. romcom where cas is supposed to play matchmaker to dean and jo and well. you know. it actually made me cackle out loud when i read it again so you know it's still good. absolutely one of the funniest fics i’ve read

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

the five people you meet in heaven by chevrolangels, 22k, ambiguously canonverse. dean dies and goes to heaven and meets five people from his life. NOT a post-finale fic but still horrifically sad. i remember sobbing hysterically when i first read this so

Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.

Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

any port in a storm by microcomets, 53k, post-s8. dean and cas go on a haunted cruise for a case. you know what happens next. also the art is by anobviousaside and it's gorgeous

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

a turn of the earth by microcomets, 95k, pre-canon au. cas is on the run from the empty and crash lands in dean's life. at one point he punches john in the face. a fucking beautifully written character study of pre-canon dean, honestly.

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

unfinished duet by microcomets, 5.8k, canonverse. sam observes dean and cas throughout the years. i remember this breaking my heart back in 2013!

Sam watches Dean and Cas over the years and notices a few things. (Or, Dean and Cas unscripted.)

💖 ergative/absolutive by glassedplanets, 8k, college au. dean and cas are best friends who meet in an astronomy class. i'm never not thinking about this fic it's so sweet and the friends to lovers is so soft and believable

He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about his best friend who literally just broke up with his girlfriend, but he knows he’ll blame it on sleepiness in the morning. He always does.

a certain light by flightagain, 24k, au. cas works at the gas n sip. dean is a customer. this author’s writing style is so lonely and heavy but it’s very lovely

Castiel works at the Gas-n-Sip. There are half-price nachos and flickering lights, there are office-workers and werewolves stopping by for snacks. Dean is a frequent customer, and his office might be haunted.

the one thing you can’t lose by majorenglishesquire, 5k, ambiguously canonverse. dean can pull cas around and it’s adorable. character study-ish. very sweet.

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

brother lover by twentysomething, 4k, set during s4/s5. dean’s jealous of sam and cas’ budding relationship. this fic is so tropey but it does it well and it’s funny as fuck

However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first.’

his fucking kids by 8sword, 3k, canonverse au. dean and cas raise claire and emma together. yes, claire novak. yes, emma of 7x13 spice girls fame. this was the first kidfic i read for spn i think. obvs written before jack or claire actually came back into the picture but it was the TEMPLATE of kidfic for me for ages

Jesus, the school should just have a parking spot labeled, “Reserved for the Novak-Winchesters,” because Dean’s getting sick of having to cruise around the parking lot looking for a spot every time he gets a call from the principal about Emma.

💖 what has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? by annie d (scaramouche), 16k, post s8. dean gets turned into an octopus. another fic that was SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered i fucking love when that happens. it isn’t even about dean being an OCTOPUS like NO. NOT EVEN. it’s ACTUALLY about the bunker and building a home and a community and a family and about PHYSICAL COMFORT and you can actually feel the world expanding at the end of this fic like a gusty sigh of relief it’s SO WONDERFUL. kevin is in this fic. ellie is too and i had to look her up but THIS is her!!!! danay garcia u were too hot to stay on this show but i love you and miss u

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting.

Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

💖 a beginner’s guide to communing with the dead by suspiciousflashlight, 77k, canonverse au. dean is a cop who summons a powerful entity to help him solve a cold case. oh my god i can’t believe i didn’t put this on here i love this one so much. the writing bowls me over it’s so confident in its worldbuilding like you’re IMMEDIATELY plunged into dean’s pov (FLAWLESSLY executed throughout the fic btw) and you just learn about the world as you go!! and it’s such a fascinating world!!! i love the magic i love the typical bureaucratic red tape procedures i love normalizing the supernatural. i ESPECIALLY love monsters as normal people in a society. at one point there’s this exchange

“Monsters,” says Cas finally. “Beyond the Wall there are monsters.” “You mean, like, vampires and djinn and stuff?” Cas shakes his head. “Those aren’t monsters, those are just people.”

those lines have stayed with me for years. i think about them every time i rewatch an episode of spn.

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

dean’s list by almaasi, 3k, canonverse. dean makes a list. short and sweet. i read this so much in 2015 that it literally got engraved into my brain line by line and rereading it caused synapses to fire that havent felt anything in years

Dean writes out a list of men he would go gay for. Sam has a suggestion to make.

💖 the path of fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, post-s8. dean and cas open a charming bed and breakfast in vermont. no, literally. another CLASSIC. i think about the food in this fic all the time...........maple bacon baked french toast......the cinnamon rolls.....it literally sounds so good

After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

long nights in cold months by pyrebi, 2.3k, au. dean’s an insomniac and cas works at walmart. i forgot i had this fic ALSO basically memorized. holy shit. pineapple in the fruit aisle.....................anyway it’s short and sweet and the “plot” resolves in such a satisfying way

When you're an insomniac, you get used to the "what the hell are you doing up, man?" look. Dean just hopes the guy who's stocking the shelves will stop giving it to him long enough to help him find some damn pineapple.

incredibly single & ready to mingle by imogenbynight, 3.6k, au. dean and cas meet on facebook. short cute au!!!!!!

Sam uses Facebook like the social media junkie he is. He's befriended literally every person he's ever had a conversation with since he got an account, which means that approximately—Dean checks—eight hours ago, he shared this horrible photo with something in the vicinity of nine hundred people. The caption below the picture reads “incredibly single & ready to mingle ;)” and roughly half of them have liked it.

Dean has never been so embarrassed in his life.

💖 unknown quantities by xylodemon, 8.5k, post-s8. after a post-case tryst, dean has to figure out his and cas’ relationship. human cas fics hold a special place in my heart. funny AND good dean pov AND a misunderstanding that i actually think works!!!!!

No one ever tells Dean anything.

(or: Dean Winchester and the not-relationship crisis of 2014)

#spn fic #spn #dean x cas #this is horrifically long actually.

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