#consider me full of excitement and low key dread | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

machine-gun-casie · 3 years

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where are you?

synopsis: you feel insecure with colson and he’s having none of it. (itty bitty titty committee!fem!reader)

wc: 4k

warnings: smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and all that), dom/sub undertones, “sir”, soft dom!colson, praise kink, choking kink.

a/n: this is my first ever smut so pls be gentle! i wrote the reader as small chested, but nothing else is described because ik how annoying it can be when small chested reader starts turning into skinny reader, so i hope you enjoy! please tell me what you think and how well i did because this is so nerve wracking!!! i love you guys!!

“Col, what are you doing?” You whined, crossing your arms over your chest. You were both lying on the couch when he suddenly jumped up and pulled you along with him.

“Wait a minute.” He giggled as he set up his phone on top of a contraption made of random books he found lying around and two tissue boxes. His front facing camera was open and from what you could tell he was filming on tiktok.

“Oh my god, is that tiktok?” You groaned lightly. Colson had been obsessed with watching tiktoks recently, yet he hadn’t been really into making them. But the last time Casie was over, she taught him how to navigate the app and he was so eager to create. But did he have to be eager right now? You hadn’t had a chance to lie down with him all day.

“Yes,” he replied and walked away from his phone to stand directly in front of you, “now stand like this.” He instructed as he placed his large hands on your waist and positioned you to face him properly, taking your hands in his gingerly and putting them by your side.

The first few notes left the speakers of his phone and you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out the name of the song. “Am I supposed to react or something?”

“No no, just wait.” He smiled, incredibly excited for whatever this was. As the music grew louder, Colson came closer and brought his hand up and grabbed the collar of your sweater gently in his palm. He pulled the sweater outwards and leaned forward to look down your shirt.

“Where are you?” He mouthed with the music.

Your jaw dropped as you threw your head back in laughter, your hand instinctively coming up to cover your chest once more. “You motherfucker!”

Colson laughed and pulled you into him by the hem of your sweater, “Come on, you know that was funny.” The audio replayed in the background as the time allotted for the video was used up, leading Colson to let go of you and reach for his phone.

“It was.” You agreed. “Doesn’t make you less of a dick.”

“You know I love your tiny tits, babe.” He mumbled as he fiddled with his phone.

“You better.” You chuckled and went back to the couch, hoping that your blanket was still warm.

“Hey, I’m gonna post this. Is that cool?” He called out to you.

“Go ahead.” You replied as you made yourself comfortable. “That was funny. Is it a trend or something?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “there was another audio that went like ‘to girls with anything smaller than a b cup, I hope you gentlemen have a good day’ or something. I thought that was funnier, but I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah, tiktok’s search thing is crap.” You rolled your eyes. “Honestly, the most memorable part of the videos on their platform is the audio. You should be able to find things without having everything saved in your favorites.”

“Anything else I should include in my email to tiktok’s team?”

“Yes, tell them to verify me while they’re at it.”

It was only an hour or so later when Colson had to leave for something or other, he had told you about it a few days prior but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. He said that he’d be back before midnight, which was code for ‘you should wait up for me’. It was around ten p.m. when you decided that you should probably freshen up and put something nice on.

After a quick shower and some of that lotion that Colson loved the smell of, you sat on the damp bathroom counter and pulled out your little makeup bag that you had yet to unpack after your last trip with Colson.

Makeup wasn’t a necessity for nights with your boyfriend, but you knew he loved how roughed up you looked with smeared lipstick and mascara running down your cheeks. So you put on your heaviest mascara that wasn’t waterproof, focusing on your lower lashes, and one of your cheapest lipsticks so it wouldn’t stain no matter how badly it smeared.

You weren’t really thinking of how you would look as you went through your routine, but more of what would happen when Colson got home. So when you opened your lingerie drawer, full of red, black, and bright pink sets all thanks to Colson, you were surprised to be hit by feelings of insecurity and dread.

Considering the fact that your relationship with Colson was almost a year long thus far, you hadn’t felt insecure or uncomfortable with him in so long. Was it really… No. It couldn’t be.

That stupid tiktok. It was getting to you.

You weren’t sure why. You knew it was a joke, a good one at that. It hadn’t made you uncomfortable at the time. Nor did it now, really. You and Colson have joked about the size of your boobs many times, just like how you joked about how skinny he was or how bad morning breath always was. It was just how your relationship grew to be after you both fully let loose around each other.

So why was this getting to you? You tried to come to a conclusion as you pulled on one of your favorite sets. As you stared at yourself in the mirror and adjusted the lingerie, you heard the front door open and decided that the time for analyzing your insecurities was not now.

Moments after you settled down on the bed, the door open and revealed Colson in a nice fancy looking suit. He let out a low whistle as he dropped his phone and his keys on the dresser, “Wow. What did I do in this world to deserve this?”

“I think you just got real lucky.” You smirked. “Love the get up, lover boy.”

“Yeah? Balmain for next week’s carpet.” He did a little spin as he walked closer. A fitting with Balmain, that’s right. “How much do you love it?”

“Not enough.” You feigned a frown and cocked your head to the side. “I’d like it off now, please and thank you.”

“Since you used your manners.” He smiled as he shrugged off the white suit jacket, disposing of the shirt and the pants quickly after, leaving him in just his boxers. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart. I’d rip that set off you if I didn’t know how much it costs.”

“I don’t mind,” you purred as he climbed onto the bed next to you, “my man can buy me another.”

“Your man?” Colson raised his eyebrows at you, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. He pulled you onto his lap, purposefully placing the damp patch on your lace panties against his pulsing erection.

Your hips bucked up at the contact and you hissed. “Yeah- my man.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his lips, pulling away as soon as he tried to take it further. “He takes care of me so well.”

“How does he take care of you, sweetheart?” Colson asked as he trailed his hands upwards against your thighs, one of them speeding up to your waist while the other stayed on its course. Your boyfriend wasn’t one for teasing, especially when he was as hard as he is now, so you knew where his hand was headed and it wasn’t going to take long.

“He fucks me so-” You gasped as his fingers reached the side of your panties, pushing them aside to stroke you gently. “He fucks me so good.” A moan escaped you as his pointer finger slowly sunk into you, knuckle by knuckle.

“Yeah I do.” Colson grinned as he watched your face contort. “So pretty, baby.” He let his thumb rest against your clit once his finger was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Colson,” you whined as you tried to ride his finger, “move.”

He pouted at you mockingly. “You were being so nice just now with your ‘please and thank you.’ You’re throwing around commands now?”

“Please, please, touch me.” He wasted no time in pumping his finger in and out and using his thumb to circle your clit. You whimpered at the attention, losing yourself to the pleasure. He had barely touched you and you were already desperate. “Another one, Colson. Please?”

“I love it when you use your manners, baby girl. Always so polite.” He smiled and watched you carefully as he pushed in his middle finger with the next thrust. His middle finger being slightly longer in addition to the girth of both fingers had your jaw dropping as your head fell back. “So perfect. Look at you, taking my fingers so well. Think you can take my cock just as good?”

“Yes, yes, please Colson.” You nodded fervently, trying to pull yourself off of his fingers. But he wouldn’t let you, pushing up along with you to keep his hand in place as he tsked at you.

“Not now babygirl, need you to come for me first. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He replied as he brought the hand on your waist up to your face. “Can you come for me?”

You whined as your eyebrows furrowed, eyes screwed shut at this point. “Wanna come on your cock.”

“And you will,” Colson reassured you, letting his hand fall to your neck, his thumb gently stroking the column of your throat, “but you gotta give me one before I can let you. I know you can, sweetheart. You’re always such a good girl for me, always taking care of me. Let me take care of you.” He circled your bud faster as he praised you, pushing his fingers in as deep as he could without hurting you to press up against your g-spot. He watched as you rolled your eyes back as the pleasure hit you and he knew you were close.

He let his hand trail down your chest and then he pulled the lace covering your right breast down. Colson lowered his head and connected his mouth to your hardened nipple and you groaned as he swirled his tongue around it. You grabbed him roughly by the sides of his head and pulled him into a deep kiss. With your eyes closed you didn’t see Colson’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

He pulled away and looked at you carefully, realizing that you were on the precipice. “Come for me, Angel.” He breathed heavily against your lips. And like a good girl, you did.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you let the pleasure wash over you. Colson smirked as he watched you ride out the high, knowing that he did that to you with only his fingers.

“You really know how to use your hands.” You panted, leaning forward to place your forehead against his.

“I changed your mind on fingering, didn’t I?” He asked. Colson was right, you used to hate being fingered before you met him. It just felt like prodding fingers and harsh jabs in a place that was far too sensitive for that. He begged and begged to touch you for weeks before you finally agreed, and it was probably one of his proudest moments when he managed to make you come five times with just his fingers that night.

“Ugh, I hate that word.” You chuckled,

“What? Fingering?” Colson asked as he gently pulled his fingers out of you, knowing damn well what word it was. “But I thought you liked getting fingered? I always finger you so good, don’t I?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You laughed. “You are a man child.”

“A man child who’s great at fingering.” He waggled his eyebrows at you as he brought his digits up to his mouth and sucked them clean. He placed his wet fingers against your cheeks and brought you closer to him, kissing you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it was intoxicating.

“Fuck me already!” You whined as you broke away from him. You pawed at his boxers to show him how desperate you were. “Please, I need you. Been waiting for you all day.”

“Me too, baby.” Colson huffed, lifting you off his lap and putting you down on the bed to take off his boxers. Once they were halfway across the room, Colson tried to push you down on the bed but you resisted.

“Wanna ride you.” You whispered and watched his eyes light up.

“Can I take these off first?” He asked, hand coming up to your bra strap, and you nodded. He reached back and unclasped the fabric, watching the straps gently fall down your shoulder. He always loved undressing you, never letting you do it yourself. His hands came up to gently squeeze both your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth on your nipples. You slowly reached down to slip off your panties, knowing that Colson would stop you. “Hey, no. Let me.”

He always undressed you, he thought as he pulled your panties down your legs. Why would you attempt something different today? Something wasn’t adding up.

“Lie back.” You whispered as you pushed him down. You crawled up towards him and moved your legs to straddle his hips. “It’s been too long, baby.”

“I fucked you this morning.” Colson chuckled, voice tight as he felt your sopping wet pussy land on his aching dick.

“Like I said,” you sighed nonchalantly, “too long.”

Colson wasn’t one for teasing. You, on the other hand, lived for it. You glided against his length slowly, slicking him up and torturing him at the same time.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” Colson groaned.

“You know it’s my favorite thing to do, my love.” You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “Gotta remind you who’s in control.”

“Fuck,” he groaned at your words, “you wanna have that talk now? We both know I give you the reins when I feel like it.” He swiftly flipped the two of you over, leaving him hovering over your body. His right hand quickly reached up to circle your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. “Now be a good girl and ride my dick like you said you would.”

“Yes sir,” you smiled as you got the exact reaction you were hoping for. He dropped down next to you and helped you back into your previous position, but you stayed hovering over his hips. You grabbed the base of his cock and positioned the tip against your entrance. Slowly lowering yourself, you let go once the tip was firmly in place. You placed both hands against Colson’s heavily inked chest and pushed down the rest of the way.

You both moaned in unison when he bottomed out after what felt like forever. Colson tried to move his hips, but with the slight shake of your head he paused. “Gimme a- gimme a second, Mr. Monster Cock.”

“After all this time, sweetheart?” He smirked.

“You say that every time, Colson.” You laughed as you tried to relax. “Okay.” You nodded as you slowly lifted yourself off his hips, pausing at the tip and then lowering yourself a little faster than before. “Feels bigger every time. You’re not taking those penis enlargement pills, are you?” You knew you were only stroking his ego at this point, but his face was worth it.

“They should probably use me for their ads.”

“They’d sell out too fast.” You groaned, your eyes fluttering shut. “I should ride you more often.”

“You don’t like it when I’m in control?” He asked, head rolling back and accentuating his adam’s apple. He opened his eyes and placed his palm against your throat again, warning you.

“Love it when you’re in control, baby.” You hummed. “But I gotta say, watching you from this angle is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to heaven.”

“Good answer.” He chuckled, letting his hand slip down to your chest. Before he could even try to hold you, you grabbed his hand and pushed it against the bed, holding it there.

It finally clicked in Colson’s head as he saw the sweater you were wearing earlier that morning hung up behind the door. You had barely let him touch you today after he filmed that stupid tiktok. Oh fuck no, this wasn’t gonna happen on his watch.

He sat up with you still in his lap and grabbed both of your hands. “What are you doing, y/n?” His tone and the use of your name and not a pet name stopped you in your tracks.

“I’m fucking my boyfriend, what are you doing?” You asked, not understanding what he was on about.

“You’re not letting me touch you.” You looked down at your hands in his and raised your brows at him. “No,” he paused, placing both your hands in his left one and reaching towards your chest, “you’re not letting me touch you.” He squeezed your left breast causing you to gasp and arch your back. “Every time I get close, you push me away.”

“I’m not-”

“Don’t lie.” He shook his head disappointedly. “You know that video was a joke, right? I can delete it right fucking now if you want me to.”

“Colson, it’s not about that-” You started.

“Then what is it about?” He raised his brows at you. “You’re not letting me enjoy what’s mine.” He pinched your nipple hard and watched as you arched your back again. “You are mine. And I like to enjoy what's mine. These are mine. I like to kiss them,” he leaned down to do just that, “I like to bite them,” he gently nipped against the soft skin of your breast. “And I fucking love marking them.” He sucked a spot right next to your nipple, pulling away only when he was sure it would be dark enough to show. “Don’t stop me from enjoying what’s mine, you understand?”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, wrists still held in his left hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t about the video, I promise.”

“Shh,” he pressed his lips against yours to silence you, “we’ll talk about it later. We’re not having any important conversations when you’re squeezing my dick like that, sweetheart.”

“Like,” you paused to clench your inner walls, “that?”

“Oh fuck!” Colson choked out, thrusting his hips up roughly. “Darling, I think you should let me handle this now.”

“I’m all yours,” you breathed.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Colson let himself go. He didn’t even bother flipping you over, he just took control with you on top. He grabbed you by the hips and simply used you.

You tried to sneak your hand down to give your sweet spot some attention, but Colson’s growl stopped you. “Be patient, baby.”

The thrusts were no longer consistent as his hips stuttered, telling you that he was close. “Colson,” you whined, “please.”

He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he saw how wrecked you looked. Tears leaving black trails of watery mascara down your cheeks, and lipstick smeared to one side, probably because of how he flipped you over that first time. He could see how desperate you were and he wanted to be the solution. He needed to be the solution.

Reaching down slowly, taking his time trailing your body as he went, Colson circled his finger against your clit and began to thrust ever so slowly. It took so much effort to maintain his slow pace, but anything was worth it when it came to you. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He asked as he focused on your blissed out face. “Beautiful and mine. All mine.”

“Yours,” you nodded as you squeezed your eyes shut. “So close, Colson. I’m so-”

“Let go for me, baby.”

With a high pitched moan, you let go. You spasmed on his cock, milking it and making it incredibly difficult for him not to blow his load right then and there.

As you started to wilt against him, you felt him slowly pulling out of you. “But you-”

“Wanna- Oh fuck… Wanna come on your tits.” He groaned, pumping himself as soon as he was out of you. You quickly laid down on the bed and pushed out your chest. He brought his knees to either side of waist and placed the hand that wasn’t working his cock around your throat. “Mine.”

“Yours.” You gasped. With a few more pumps, his head was rolling back and he was painting your chest.

He panted heavily as he came down from his high, eyes still tightly closed. When he finally opened them, he smiled lazily. “Look at you, covered in my load. So pretty, baby.” He reached down and rubbed the seed into your skin and against your nipples. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your forehead and sagged against you for a moment.

After his breather, he sat back up and headed to the bathroom, tossing a ‘be right back’ over his shoulder. You were left alone in the bedroom for a minute, hearing the water running in the bathroom reminding you that you need to pee.

You weren’t entirely sure where the sudden insecurity came from tonight. Not that you weren’t ever insecure about your body, but never during sex and definitely never with Colson. You sat up on the bed and stared at the open bathroom door where your boyfriend was. He had only ever made you feel loved and gorgeous. Maybe his obvious acknowledgment to your lack of cup size did make you question. Question your worthiness of him. He was obviously well endowed, and most people knew that. You chuckled lightly as you remembered the stupid cock sock.

Maybe it made you feel a little less than, you thought as you walked towards the bathroom. You walked in and let your fingers trail against Colson’s shoulder as you passed him at the sink to do your business.

You watched him as he grabbed a towel and ran it under the warm water. You quickly finished and sat on the bathroom counter in front of him. He slowly wiped away at your chest with the damp cloth, being gentle against the soft skin.

But here he is. Caring for you. Loving on you. Loving you. You almost laughed out loud at yourself for questioning his love or your worthiness when he was so obviously devoted to you of his own accord.

“I love you.” You broke the silence.

“I love you, too.” Colson looked up at you, slightly shocked and confused. You had both already said the ‘L-word’ a while ago, but you usually kept the love confessions in dark rooms and not in the harsh bathroom light. “Was I too-”

“No.” You shook your head as he reached for your pack of makeup wipes behind you. “No, you always take care of me so well.”

You went quiet again, before you opened your mouth to speak at the same time that he did. He paused and waited for you to speak, but when you didn’t, he started again.

“If that video bothered you, you should have told me y/n. I’m sorry I made you feel insecure, but next time you gotta tell me before it escalates.” He spoke softly as he pulled a wipe out of the pack and cleaned up your face. “I love you. That includes every part of you.”

“I’m sorry, I promise it wasn’t the stupid video. It was actually really funny.” You chuckled. “I don’t know what hit me. When I was getting ready before you came, I just looked down at my drawer and felt so stupid. I felt like I was pretending to be sexy for you. Like- Like I was convincing myself all this time that this turned you on when there’s no way it could.” He opened his mouth but you looked at him and he paused. “But I know that that isn’t true. And I’m sorry for doing that back there.”

“I swear to god y/n, if you apologize one more time-”

You laughed, placing your hand on his chest. “I’m so- I’m not! I’m not sorry!”

“You aren’t,” he nodded, his eyes meeting yours so that you knew he was being serious, “because you have nothing to be sorry for. And I know that if I apologize again, this is never gonna end. I love you, and you are so sexy, and I am the world’s luckiest man because you’re all mine.”

“Yeah, you are.” You giggled and smiled as he rolled his eyes.

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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x reader)

Summary: Y/N meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Y/N meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 5k

Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it

a/n: Thank you all for your patience and kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

Y/N felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.

“Are you almost done?”

“You made quite the mess, doctor.” It was the last weekend of Spencer’s sabbatical, and he had spent the afternoon cooking all of her favorite foods— a sort of preemptive gift for when he was back on the BAU’s unpredictable schedule. She’d taken on the responsibility of the dishes in return, which was no easy undertaking considering it seemed as though he’d used every single pot, pan, and utensil in her kitchen.

“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.

“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.

She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”

He hummed his confirmation, and she could feel his smile as she lathered the inside of the pan, then rinsed it, and finally drained the sink. She dried her hands on the kitchen towel and turned to face him. He didn’t remove his hands, instead just let them glide over her hips and then settle on her lower back.

“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”

“I could eat it every day for the rest of my life and be very, very happy.” He dropped his gaze and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Speaking of moms, I… I was wondering if you, um— if you’d want to meet my mom?”

Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”

She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”

…

Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.

“I’ll check in and visit for a few minutes, try to gauge what kind of a day it is, and then I’ll text you to come in or not.” He ran a hand over his face. “I really should have had you drive separate, because if it’s not a good day I don’t want you to have to wait around while I visit with her, but she’s been having a lot of good days recently, and—”

“Honey.” She found his hands where they were clutching a little aggressively at his leg and covered them with her own, running her thumbs soothingly along his skin. “It’s okay. Either way— whether I meet her today or we wait for a better day— it’s okay.”

He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.

He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”

“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”

She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Spencer dropped the keys into her hand and then climbed out of the car, closing the door and practically trotting toward the building. She would have laughed if it weren’t for the raging anxiety that was nearly suffocating her. She opened her door and put her legs out the side of the car, taking a deep breath and looking out over the parking lot.

Y/N knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?

She loved teaching kindergarten, and she was the first to defend the profession in most settings. But she was about to be in a room with two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what she would possibly have to contribute. More than that, what would Diana Reid think of her son settling for someone so… ordinary?

Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.

Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.

Y/N turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.

The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Y/N began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”

“Ah, yes, you must be Y/N. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Y/N wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”

Y/N mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.

And now she had a moment of panic, wondering if maybe it was too on the nose, or if Diana would think it was silly and immature. She briefly considered turning and heading back out to the parking lot, but then Spencer appeared in the doorway to the sunroom, waving his thanks to Suzanna and then positively beaming at her . How could she deny him this?

He held out his hand to her, and she accepted it, instantly more at ease from the simple touch. He pulled her gently into the room, and there was Diana, perched on a floral sofa and looking quite elegant in a soft purple shawl.

She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Y/N watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.

“Y/N,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Y/N returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Y/N saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”

The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Y/N folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.

“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Y/N nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”

Y/N laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Y/N with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”

Y/N felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”

“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.

“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.

“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple , I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Y/N. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”

“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Y/N’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

Diana smiled brightly at her. “Your students must absolutely adore you.” Diana gestured vaguely to Spencer before continuing, “Spencer loved his kindergarten teacher— hm, Mrs. Hudson, was it?”

Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Y/N with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”

Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Y/N laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”

“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Y/N shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Y/N agreed.

“Oh,” Diana tapped Y/N’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”

“ Mom ,” Spencer choked out.

“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Y/N begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”

Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”

Y/N turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”

“Did you figure out the trick?” Y/N asked.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”

“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Y/N. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”

“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.

Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Y/N could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Y/N. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit .”

“A classic in its own right,” Y/N said.

Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”

“I love Ferdinand!” Y/N gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”

Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”

The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Y/N was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.

Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Y/N’s home, her family, and most of her interests.

Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Y/N found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.

It was the happiness that scared her.

She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy — was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.

This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Y/N’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”

The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”

She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”

Y/N watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Y/N stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Y/N clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Y/N returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”

Y/N blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.

With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Y/N excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.

Spencer emerged from the building, his hands in his pockets. He quickly made his way to the vehicle, practically running across the parking lot and sliding behind the wheel. Before she could even say anything, he was surging across the console to grab her face in his hands and pull her into a kiss.

She steadied herself with her hands on his chest, clutching at his shirt and returning the unexpected passion with a slightly bewildered smile. When he was finished, he pulled back to lean their foreheads together. She caught her breath and asked, “What was that for?”

“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”

He leaned into her for a minute longer, breathing into her hair and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. Then he pulled back, smiling widely. “How would you feel about meeting the other family?”

…

Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Y/N leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.

Spencer held the door open, trailing in behind her with a hand on her waist. She spotted Penelope’s bright green dress immediately, and Spencer raised his hand in greeting. The group gave them a raucous cheer, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Y/N, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.

“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute ,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Y/N’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”

Y/N laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”

Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Y/N. “What’s your poison?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Y/N insisted.

Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”

“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.

A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Y/N. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”

…

She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Y/N’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.

She learned that Tara had a doctorate in forensic psychology, and Emily had worked internationally for years becoming the Unit Chief of the BAU. Luke had been an Army Ranger and a member of the Fugitive Task Force, and Matt had traveled the globe with the International Response Team.

They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.

She did her best to steer the conversation back to the team whenever possible, which in some ways made the whole thing worse. But she managed to keep a smile for the evening, and she lost track of how many drinks made their way down the hatch. Luke ordered an assortment of snack foods for the group, and she gratefully accepted a few fries and a mozzarella stick to soak up some of the alcohol sloshing around in her stomach. At some point Spencer returned from the bar with an extra glass of water, sliding it her way with a knowing smile and a press of his lips to her cheek.

Eventually, Y/N had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.

She raised her head to analyze her appearance, groaning a little at the smudge of mascara under her eyes. As she swiped at the black rings, she considered that she had never quite figured out the ideal amount of alcohol— somehow always managing to get a little too drunk. And now she was too drunk in front of all of Spencer’s friends— his family.

Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary . Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring . Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.

She closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to spill over, remembering the last time she’d cried in a bar bathroom. She’d spent that evening wondering what was wrong with her… wondering if she deserved to have someone like Spencer at all.

“That’s just… the alcohol talking,” she reminded herself out loud into the empty bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. “Stop bein’ a weirdo.”

She pushed out of the bathroom and back into the bar, walking a little more cautiously as the alcohol started to course through her bloodstream. As she approached the group again, Spencer’s eyes found her immediately, and he reached for her, pulling her underneath his arm and into his side. He brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just—” She slid her hand around his waist to keep herself steady. “Just more tipsy than I thought.”

He ran a soothing hand along her arm. “Do you wanna go home?”

She shook her head. “No, no— ‘M fine. ‘S nice to be with your friends.”

“You’re sure?” He squeezed her shoulder and lowered his voice. “Because honestly I’m kind of ready to go.”

She looked up from where her head was resting on his chest to see him smiling softly at her. “Whatever you want.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then turned back to the team and cleared his throat. “We’re gonna head out.”

Tara made a show of checking her watch. “10:45? I’m surprised you stayed this long, old man.”

…

Y/N’s eyes opened slowly and came into focus as Spencer’s car came to a stop outside her apartment. “Why’re we here?”

Spencer shut off the ignition and pulled out the key with a small smile. “I have a feeling you’re going to feel… less than stellar tomorrow. I thought you might like to wake up in your own bed. Hang on.”

He climbed out of the vehicle and closed the door before coming around to her side. She could feel the tears welling up as she fumbled with the buckle on her seatbelt. Everything was a little uncoordinated, and she felt absolutely ridiculous.

The door opened, and she carefully swung her legs out one at a time. Spencer stood slightly to the side, and she knew she should hurry up and let him get home, but she didn’t move to get up.

“Do you need help?”

She shook her head, and the action sent a tear rolling over her bottom lash line. She tried to swipe it away, but of course Spencer caught it.

“Hey— what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

She sniffed. “Are you just dropping me off?”

He cupped a hand underneath her chin to tilt her eyes upward, and his eyes were soft but concerned. “I was planning to come upstairs with you. Unless you don’t want me to.”

She shook her head. “No, I— you can come upstairs.”

“Okay.” Spencer cocked his head. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Y/N didn’t know where to begin. She was drowning in self-doubt— had been since about the one month mark. It seemed that every day there was something new to feel insecure about. The confidence she’d had on his doorstep in March was nowhere to be found.

That was too much for her slow moving brain to articulate at the moment, so she settled on: “They’re all so smart and funny and cool and interesting.”

“Okay…” he prompted.

“And I’m not,” she admitted.

His mouth turned quickly down. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I’m just— a kindergarten teacher and I— I don’t have any cool skills or stories, and I don’t even have any muscles, and they’re all so pretty —”

“Hey, stop— stop.” Spencer squatted down to be eye-level with her. “First of all, you’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re my favorite kindergarten teacher and the best one I know.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “You have lots of cool skills and stories. And I don’t have any muscles either.”

She lifted her free hand to squeeze his bicep. “Yes, you do.”

“Muscles are overrated.” He smiled and brought a hand to her face, smoothing her hair back and then letting his fingers linger on her cheek. “And frankly, pretty is too mundane a term to describe you. I’d go with something like radiant, or ethereal, or incandescent.”

“You have to s‘plain your jokes to me,” she slurred, swiping her forearm under her nose.

“Not always. And besides, I have to explain my jokes to basically everyone,” he reminded her. He squeezed her hand. “But unlike everyone else, you let me explain them to you. And you actually listen to the explanation.” He shrugged. “I think I like that more than I like telling the joke.”

She was quiet then, eyes focused on a particularly interesting piece of loose gravel. She knew the list of her flaws was longer, but her brain couldn’t string them together in her current state.

Spencer shuffled closer and waited patiently until she finally looked at him before continuing.

“I love you. And not because of your job, or your cool stories, or your muscles,” he clarified. “I love you because you’re you. And, a little selfishly, because I love the person that I am when I’m with you. Okay?”

He smiled tentatively, and she let out a long breath. “Okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”

Spencer helped her navigate up the walkway and the three flights of stairs. Rather than rummage drunkenly through her purse, she passed it off and allowed him to retrieve her keys and unlock the door.

He supervised and provided balance support as she haphazardly swiped a makeup wipe over her face and fumbled into her pajamas. Finally he got her settled into bed with a bottle of water on the bedside table.

He pulled up the covers around her. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he murmured.

This was the moment that he’d realize what an absolute fool she was. He’d finally be alone in the bathroom, and it would become abundantly clear that she couldn’t drink responsibly, that she was boring, that she was obnoxious. She was sure of it, and her heart was fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces.

Spencer’s nervous laugh broke through her haze of insecurity. “Whoa, I thought we were done crying?” he joked. “Honey, c’mere.” Spencer pulled her up into his arms, rubbing a hand over her back.

She hadn’t realized she was making any noise until the sound vibrated against where Spencer had tucked her into his shoulder. As if she hadn’t been foolish enough tonight, now she was blubbering into his nice cardigan. Despite herself, she clung to him like he’d disappear like smoke between her fingers.

“I’m— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed; it’s not funny,” he apologized. “Shhh, sweetheart . It— it’s okay, it’s okay .”

“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice was full of tears and cracked pathetically at the end.

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, a tinge of confusion in his voice. “I’m— the bathroom can wait, I suppose.”

That only made her cry harder, which poor Spencer responded to with even more aggressive soothing. He stroked over her hair and hugged her tight, shushing her and rocking her a little bit back and forth.

He was just so sweet . Kind and thoughtful and considerate— three things she hadn’t experienced from a significant other in a very long time. And it was exhausting waiting for the shift— for the moment that he realized she wasn’t worth the hassle. She was so tired of anticipating the end.

“I don’t want you to leave.” She hated how ridiculous she sounded, gasping and hiccuping.

Spencer froze for a full second and then squeezed her impossibly tighter. “I’m not. Baby, I’m not. I am right here.” He stroked a firm hand up and down her spine. “I need you to take some deep breaths with me. I’m gonna do it, too, okay?”

He led her in a series of deep inhalations and long exhales to the rhythm of his palm on her back. He murmured quietly to her, reassurances and promises and love. As her breathing came closer to normal, he pressed a soft kiss into her hair.

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, right? I wouldn’t change one single thing about you.” His hand on her back slowed to a stop, and she could practically hear him considering his next move. “I’m pretty sure Billy Joel wrote a song about it, actually. I love you just the way you are. ”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in her throat at the tone deaf melody, and she felt him smile against her hair. “Okay?”

She wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t his fault. She sighed and sniffed. “Okay, off brand Billy Joel.”

“That’s not very nice,” he chuckled, pulling back to swipe his fingers over her damp cheeks.

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I love off brand. Just as good as the real thing, and with some fun quirks.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate the comparison.” He smiled softly at her, and then his expression melted into something a little more serious. “But I mean it. There is no place I’d rather be, and no one else that I wanna be with. When I say that I love you the most, I mean that I love you more than I have ever loved anybody. Ever.”

He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to cry all over again. How was he so wonderful, and gentle, and loving, and perfect ? He’d promised to do better on a chilly night in January and then spent every single day since then doing exactly that.

“But I actually do have to pee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you going to be okay here for a few minutes?”

He was speaking to her as he would a child, and she was utterly mortified. She waved her hand. “ God , I’m bein’ so annoying.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a little drunk. And a lot adorable.” He tapped gently on her nose. “But you’re also kind of sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.” He propped the pillow up behind her. “It’ll be the fastest pee ever— four minutes, tops. Most of it will be hand washing. Okay?"

“Okay,” she smiled, and she really meant it.

He hopped up and trotted to the bedroom door. “See you in four minutes. Have some water while you wait.”

She followed instructions, sipping carefully from the bottle he’d left for her. She also rummaged through the bedside drawer for the Advil, popping two and washing them down with another swig of water.

Spencer returned to the bedroom with his cardigan and pants already discarded. He quickly slipped out of his button up and into his pajamas before sliding in beside her and holding out his arms. “All right, c’mere.”

“Hmm?” she hummed.

“I’m demanding snuggles,” he clarified. “That’s the price you pay for my chauffeur and caretaker services.”

Another smile slowly turned up the corners of her mouth, and he returned it, pulling her against his side. “There she is.”

She allowed herself to settle and melt into his warmth, the soft fabric of his t-shirt under her cheek and his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. She willed herself to stop waiting for the shift. She begged herself to stop looking for the end.

Maybe this time there wouldn’t be an end. Maybe she could have an infinite middle with Spencer Reid. Maybe she had earned that.

———

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maysbanks · 4 years

Text

she moves in her own way. (jj maybank)

due to the ASTOUNDING response to my first jj fic which i have to say a huuuge thank you to everyone that liked, commented & reblogged, it honestly means the absolute world !! i couldn't wait much longer to start writing for my boy again, i have so many fic ideas and cannot wait to get them out to y'all. this one is shorter than the last, & the title is inspired from the song 'she moves in her own way' by the kooks (lol) but isn't necessarily based off of it, it's just something that i wrote up quickly bc i was in my feels™️ . also i feel very unoriginal with the whole plot and aspect of this but im gonna post it anyway bc i love jj lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug use, violence, jj with a gun™️

summary: reader walks the fine line between either pogue or kook, though technically a kook, she ignores all social standings of the obx and jj maybank cannot stop himself from getting caught up in her whirlwind.

( gif isn’t mine! please let me know if it’s yours so i can credit you. )

Everyone seemed to have a different perspective of you, unsurprisingly. You weren't really much of a social butterfly, you kept yourself to yourself, really. Nobody in the Outer Banks knew much about you at all, other than what they had come up with in their heads. And while you tried your best to stay in the shadows, that only seemed to make you stand out more.

You were known for being the best of both worlds - not really a Pogue, but not really a Kook either. While your social status and family wealth suggested you to be a Kook, your free spirit and reckless behaviour fitted you better towards the Pogue style. If anyone were to ask you, you told them you were neither.

Why should a name define you anyway? You thought it was all bullshit, the stupid territorial arguments and the snide comments from both sides. You thought it was ridiculous, you weren't living in The Outsiders, for fuck sake.

You moved in your own way, simple as that. You wouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, where you can't or shouldn't be, it was a free country you'd say, middle finger salute ready to aim towards anyone who dared cross you. You were an enigma, wild and careless, unforgiving and unforgettable. You didn't necessarily like the attention, but you got it. And you knew it, and you played on it, too.

You had used your irresistible charm more than enough times to bail JJ Maybank out of trouble, despite your parents' protest. They didn't have a problem with the Pogues, persay, how could they when your dad been one half of his life before meeting your mom and marrying into the rich lifestyle; they just had a problem with JJ, as many of the parents on the island did. He was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, weed smoking, knuckles constantly torn, skin bruised, quick wit, sarcastic humour, daddy issues, you know the type. Kids loved him, parents hated him.

You were friends with JJ, you supposed. You spent your time with him talking about your days and smoking a joint, meaningful conversations turning into joking and general tomfoolery within seconds. With JJ, you were simply unapologetically you, and JJ never judged you. He never made you choose a side, seemingly content with the fact that you were a little bit of everything, though there was times when he teased you relentlessly about the Kook life, but that was just JJ.

And despite the social differences, him being a Pogue through and through, you technically a Kook, you were drawn to each other pretty easily. Not that you hung out all the time, but you loved every second when you did, usually joined by his group of best friends - John B, Pope, and Kiara. With Kiara a Kook herself but drawn more to the lifestyle of the Pogue's, she understood you more than anyone. You'd bonded a lot, and with each of them too.

JJ loved that you fitted in with them, like a missing puzzle piece. So perfectly, it shook him to its core. The pair of you were close, but he had no idea where he stood with you, like most people never when it came to you. You were like a rollercoaster, taking people for the most exciting ride of their lives that lasted a full three or so minutes before they returned back to solid ground. You'd given JJ a ride a number of times on your non-existent metaphorical rollercoaster, and he'd returned for another ride time and time again. You couldn't say no to that damned boy.

It was a blessing and a curse, the unspoken relationship you shared. A blessing because JJ was the best thing that happened to you, and a curse because that was your downfall. You never got attached to people, never given yourself the chance. But then JJ Maybank had come along, blonde hair and blue eyes, split lip and sharpened teeth, words cunning. You saw him as a challenge at first, the name Kook Princess haunting you as he spoke them, stood in front of you at the keg upon your first real meeting. He'd held a drink out towards you, smirk perfect on his pink lips.

You'd attended over a hundred kegger's in your lifetime, the Pogue parties more inviting than those of the Kook's. You danced and talked to anyone that came across your path, whether it be unknowing Tourons, unjudging Pogues, or unforgiving Kooks, you drew them all in. You didn't fit in with any of them, JJ had realised. You really did move in your own way, he thought. He liked that, he'd decided. And hey, you were pretty cute too.

On that particular night, he'd spoken to you directly for the first time in a long time. "Would the Kook Princess like a drink?" He'd asked, holding the red cup out towards you. You'd eyed the offended object, and subsequently him, too. He smirked at the attention. You had rolled your eyes.

"Don't call me that," you'd said simply, but taking the cup from his hands regardless. You took a sip, relieved to discover that he hadn't tampered with it in any way. You were still considered a Kook to most people, after all. You could never be too careful. "Thanks, Maybank."

And he'd blinked at you, lips suddenly raising to a sly smile as he shrugged, dimples winking at you as they appeared in his cheeks. "Anytime," and he'd spoken your name back to you and you couldn't get enough of the way it sounded coming from his mouth, and you realised hey, this guy is pretty cute, and the rest, as they, is history.

You were in the midst of another infamous Pogue kegger at the current, months after your first introduction to JJ Maybank and his friends, and you stood off to the side, listening to JJ intently as he ranted about the events of the day he'd endured. Starting from finding a Grady White sunken in the marsh, "A fucking Grady Marsh, they're like 500 G's man!", to discovering that the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, who had coincidentally been found dead that same day, to getting chased by two guys with a gun, to the finding of the motel key from the wreck and breaking in that same motel room, finding a safe full of money and a gun of all things, to their best attempt at laying low which, unsurprisingly, resulted in the kegger in the first place.

JJ was wild in his recite of the events, hands gesturing every which way as you watched him with your lips curled into your mouth, resisting a smile at his antics. When he finished he retelling, you raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "So, complete and utter boring day for you, huh?"

JJ chuckled along with you, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. "Man, it was crazy," he muttered. He looked at you then, eyes sincere. "I wish you were there with us. It was like something straight from a movie, I'm telling you. I feel like such a badass with that gun."

Your secret joy at his confession of that he wished you were was short lived, as the last of his words sunk in and you felt dread build in the pit of your stomach. You stared at him, him so excited that he hadn't even realised your face had dropped, before you reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting his movements and stopping the hurried flow of words that were leaving his mouth.

"JJ," you said carefully, eyes trained on his as he stared, clueless. "Please tell me you did not take that gun from the safe."

Your heart dropped as you saw him falter, his lips helplessly moving but no words coming out. He held a hand up, as if to hush you, though you hadn't started to speak again, and then his hand had dropped just as quick as it was raised, his teeth biting down on his chapped lip as the realisation dawned on you.

"JJ Fucking Maybank," you spat, hands slapping gently at his arms, because you could never really hurt him, you just wanted him to know you were pissed. "Do you realise how fucking careless that is? How much trouble you could get into, if anyone knew you had a gun-" your voice trailed off, your eyes closing as you exhaled. "JJ, please tell me you don't have it on you right now."

His lack of reply was the only answer you needed, and your stomach churned as you stepped back from his figure, suddenly feeling sick. He followed you, though, not letting you get too far as he took your arms in his hands and tried to drag you closer to him once more. You shook your head, arms slipping from his hold as you glared at him fiercely.

"That's so fucking stupid, JJ. You could get into serious trouble with this, trouble I won't be able to get you out of." You warned, because you knew it was true. Your charm and looks could get him out of some trouble to its extent, but it was more so your parents wealth and status that got the both of you out of shit when you managed to get into it, and you also knew your parents would literally throw a fit if you got involved in something like this - carrying a gun was no joking matter. You stepped back once more, hand finding its way to your forehead. "And from a crime scene, no less. Fucking hell."

JJ licked his lips, standing back roughly as you watched, his jaw clenching. "Well I'm not asking for your help here, Princess," he taunted, the nickname sending a wave of annoyance through you. JJ knew it would. "It's not like I ask you to help me, you're just there. Thinking I need help, like I'm some fucking charity case, a fucking doll you picked up from the thrift store that was gonna be thrown out the next day."

You tried to protest, but JJ didn't give you the chance. "I don't need your help all the fucking time. I don't need your pity. I get that you won't understand because why would you? You're a Kook, you get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. And you can argue and fight me about it all you want, but I know you know it's true."

He sighed heavily, hands running down his face in a sign of defeat. You watched him all the while, thankful that you had ventured off the outskirts of the party so that hopefully nobody had heard JJ shouting at you, your heart wrenching as his blue eyes settled on you. "I'm sorry, JJ," you said finally. You refused to cry, though the desire to at the sight of him being so mad at you tore you apart. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With the gun thing, with everything that I help you with. And I know I'm a Kook, and I know that my parents could afford to buy half of this fucking island if they pleased, but that doesn't define me. I care, okay? And I know I care a lot more than a lot of people in your life."

It was probably a low blow, and you knew it. But JJ took it in, let the words sink into his brain where they stayed there, his fists clenching at his sides. You crossed your arms over your chest, defeated.

"I'm gonna go back to the party," you whispered. "I'll see you around, I guess." You eyed his pockets, unsure of where exactly he held the gun. "Be careful, okay."

And even when you were angry with him, you still tried to make sure he was okay, that he stayed safe. There was multiple occasions you'd showed up unannounced, simply asking how his day was, if he okay, if he had eaten that day, stayed hydrated. At first the attention startled him, he'd never really had anyone look out for him in that aspect, and yet there you were, like an angel sent from the gods themselves, smiling down at him.

You cared, he realised. You cared so much that sometimes he couldn't take it, because he didn't know how. The most family he'd ever gotten close to having in his life was the Pogues, after losing his mother and subsequently losing his father too as he turned into the monster that he was, cold and distant, fists always poised ready for an imaginary fight, and he knew that someday the Pogues would even slip through his fingers. He couldn't let that happen with you. He wouldn't.

He'd started off in your direction, truly, he had. But then John B was grabbing him and averting his attention to him, and he focused on his friend, promising only a minute of his time. You were in his sights, stood a bit away, and he recognised the couple you were talking to as Sarah Cameron and Topper Thorton, Kooks through and through. He held his distaste back, and even held a drink out to offer to Sarah as she and Topper made their way past where he and John B were standing. Big fucking mistake, he realised quickly.

It had all happened in a blur of events, each little bit leading to big finale - as he watched his best friend being held down in the water, powerless to Topper who kneeled over him, hands forcing John B to stay put in the sea. Sarah was screaming at Topper, Pope was holding JJ back with all his might, Kie beside them as she screamed along with Sarah to let John B go. And there you were, suddenly beside JJ, gripping his arm tightly as you took in the sight with a horrified glare. JJ didn't even hesitate; the gun had been pulled from his shorts and was directed at Topper's head in the blink of an eye.

The fury in his veins was red hot and ugly, tearing through every part of him like a vice. This was the Pogues land, their side of the island, and yet the Kooks still thought they could get away with anything and everything - including, apparently, attempting to drown his best friend.

"Your move, broski," JJ uttered through clenched teeth. He could hear the screams of the crowd behind him, and he pulled the gun away from Topper's head and into the direction of the sky, firing two shots towards it as the crowd of people quickly dispersed, screeches sounding from all over. "Now everybody needs to get the fuck off our side of the island!"

He was shoved to the side as Sarah rushed to her boyfriend, telling him he was fucking crazy or something like that, he wasn't really listening. The shots rang in his ears, and the adrenaline of the moment soured through him. Kie and Pope were screaming at him, he could hear their voices distantly. His blue eyes were unfocused for a second, before they looked up, and there you were.

Sent from the gods themselves, once again. You looked vibrant, so insanely alive, lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. You let out a shaky breath as you watched him. JJ clenched his jaw.

"He was going to drown John B," he thought he'd said, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what to keep track of at that moment, Kie and Pope's obvious disapproval at him literally doing the one thing they swore not to do, Sarah and Topper stumbling away from the scene in the distance, John B getting up and muttering something along the lines of he wasn't going to drown me, or you, simply staring at him.

Before he knew what he was doing, JJ had made his way towards you. The gun was still held in his hands, and you swallowed thickly as you eyed it. "You should put that away," you muttered. JJ seemed confused, before he caught on to what you meant and he shoved the gun back to the spot of in between his shorts and his hip. "You literally did the one thing I said not to, you tool."

JJ cracked a smile, small and uncertain as he gazed at you. You stepped closer to him, eyes glancing over his shoulder. "You really pissed them off," you said, meaning his friends.

JJ shrugged, because he didn't care about their opinion, he cared about yours. And if you hated him now, hated the fact that he was just some dirty Pogue who held guns against people's heads now, apparently. "I don't care about what they think," he spoke softly. You looked at him confused. "I care about what you think."

You smiled softly, shrugging one shoulder. "Topper was going to drown John B," you replied, matter of fact. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, who knew what could have happened. Nothing could have stopped him." You bit your lip, hand reaching out and touching his face gently, thumb soothing over the worried line between his brows. "You did the right thing, J. A fucking crazy and stupid thing, potientally dangerous, but the right thing nonetheless."

"Yeah, that's kind of my go-to, if you haven't already noticed," JJ smiled, tongue running over his bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, though playful. "Look, I'm sorry about before, okay. I was a dick. I know you care, but sometimes that's what scares me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face as your hand dropped from his face to intertwine with his own hand, his gaze suddenly becoming fixed on your linked hands, his other absentmindedly playing with your fingers that held his hand.

"It's like, you're this untouchable thing. I mean, you don't belong to anyone, you refuse to go by anything other than your name, and you're like this perfect mix between Pogue and Kook even if you do hate it and everyone knows who are you and they make these stories up about you, like that's how popular you are," JJ chuckled. "And then you hang out with me, you look past all the dirty Pogue shit, see me for who I am, and you care. And you care so god dammed much that it fucking terrifies me because nobody's ever cared that much before about me, so why should you?"

His hand left yours to remove the hat from sitting atop his hair and then run his hand through the blonde locks. You could see his tongue running along the outsides of his bottom teeth, the action causing a bump beneath his skin. He looked nervous than you had ever seen him before, and you'd both gotten into enough nerve-wracking situations together to compare. You sighed as your hands reached for his face, gripping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to gaze down at yours.

"JJ Maybank," you started, grinning softly. "You listen to me while I tell you that you deserve the fucking world and more. All this shit that you're going through, all the crap you deal with on a daily basis, you carry it so well that nobody would even know. You fight through each day and I don't even know how you manage it half the time. I admire you so much, J. And I can't help but care about you, even if you don't want me to. I care about you so much, that you wanna know a secret? It scares me too."

JJ gazed down at you lovingly, his forehead moving to rest against yours. You welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you gently, as if reassuring himself that you were actually there.

"JJ," you whispered as you were stood in silence for a precise minute, neither of you daring to break the silence until you had. His blue eyes stared into yours, awaiting the next part of your speech. You swallowed your nerves down, figuring fuck it. "I'm so in love with you."

He grinned, his head swooping down before you knew it and his lips pressing against yours in a heated embrace that sent a sensation of butterflies to fly wildly in your stomach, bashing against your ribcage and taking your breath away. Shivers flew up your spine, and every hair on your body stood on edge as the kiss grew heavier, tongues brushing and teeth clattering, bodies pressed against each other as much as they could manage.

When JJ's lips left yours, you almost whined. JJ grinned cheekily, hands digging into your hips. "I love you," he breathed against the skin of your neck as he buried his head there, lips tickling the flesh. "I can't believe you just macked on me while I have a gun in my pocket."

You rolled your eyes and tugged gently on his hair, spurring a laugh from him as you shoved him away and grinned despite yourself. "Do not remind me, please," you warned him, allowing him to pull you into his side as you made your way down the beach. "I still can't believe you took that thing."

"I knew it'd come in handy though," he grinned, pulling you closer with the arm thrown over your shoulder. You wrapped yours around his waist, face squished in his chest as you shook your head.

"You're an idiot, Maybank."

274 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Hoodie Season

F/M Pairing: Y/N X Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 7K

Note: Another requested Fic! Enjoyyyy

It was a Friday morning and I refused to leave the familiar comforts of my bed. With the addition of the sun hitting just right from the low-slanted window, I was prepared to give up on the possibility of moving from my comfortable position, even if that meant missing work today. After all, I endured an endless barrage of tiring conditions throughout the week, listening to adolescent teenagers gossip and complain about every possible topic. Therefore, this type of treatment was certainly warranted, even if the sounds of the traffic outside proved to be an annoying disturbance.

I let out a yawn, turning onto my side to face away from the street, pausing when I realized that there was something beneath my hand. I reluctantly pried open one eye, glancing down to see what I had just discovered. Irritation boiled beneath my skin when I realized several pregnancy magazines were strewn across the sheets. “What the hell?” I groaned, suddenly losing any prior interest in sleeping. I gathered the magazines together before storming into the kitchen where Hyunjin was sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. I tossed the magazines onto the empty space in front of him. “You’re not exactly subtle these days,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

My husband glanced up at me over the brim of his coffee mug. “What do you mean?” he asked with innocent eyes.

“I don’t want kids right now, Hyunjin,” I said, glowering at him once more. “Isn’t it enough that we deal with students every day at school?”

“But they’d be our kids, Y/N,” he pouted, attempting to hand me a magazine from atop the messy pile.

I ignored his offering, shaking my head while storming into the kitchen. “I don’t care if they’re our kids, I’m not ready!”

“They’re so cute though,” Hyunjin said, opening one of the covers. “Look at how small they are!”

“Yeah? Well, they won’t stay that small forever,” I said. “And then they’ll be just like those horny high school demons we deal with every day.”

“Aren’t you being dramatic?” he asked which was quite ironic coming from the Hwang Hyunjin, AKA, one of the most over-dramatic people I have ever met in my entire life. The same Hyunjin who demanded that they move Mr. Henderson into a new classroom because he was located right next to the library where I worked and Hyunjin was certain he was flirting with me.

“Babe, you can’t even pretend to be serious,” I said, reaching for the cereal from the top shelf. “I think you’re determined to test me today.”

“Our babies would be so beautiful,” Hyunjin went on as if he was refusing to listen to my counter-arguments.

“You’re only acting like this because one of your friends had a kid.”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin shrugged, joining me in the kitchen as I spooned more Fruit Loops into my mouth. “But you can’t tell me that you weren’t enamored with your nieces at my mom’s Christmas party.”

“I was just being nice,” I grumbled, ignoring the way Hyunjin was now clambering for my attention, arms wrapped around my waist. Hyunjin was always clingy in the mornings, fresh-faced with the lingering effects of sleep clouding his eyes.

“Can you at least pretend to think about it?” Hyunjin whined.

“Maybe if you’re good,” I said, loosening his hold which allowed me to slip through to the other side of the counter. “Don’t forget that your little PR stunt woke me up early this morning, babe, and I don’t forgive easily.”

“Don’t act like you hated it,” Hyunjin said, reaching for the car keys out of the small dish we kept by the door. “Am I driving?”

“How else will I intake my daily caffeine addiction?” I asked, pouring the remaining coffee into a travel mug. “But slow down in the school zone, I don’t think our bank account can take another traffic violation.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I was barely over the limit.”

I grinned at the way he tried to defend himself. “Give me twenty minutes to make myself look decent.”

“Wouldn’t want to scare the kids, right Y/N?”

“Thin ice, Hyunjin, you’re very close to sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Hyunjin smirked because he knew my threats were empty. I was weak for my husband and he liked to exploit my affections for him at every opportunity possible. For example, last night he pretended to be super excited for the new season of the Bachelor (even though he hates the show) just because he wanted me sat in his lap while he did his best to decorate my neck with colorful marks.

In conclusion, Hyunjin was my kryptonite, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hyunjin and I arrived at school fifteen minutes early, parting ways in the mostly full parking lot because the students definitely didn’t need to see the way he liked to grope my ass when we kissed. Despite working together, I rarely saw Hyunjin throughout the day unless he made-up some excuse to come see me in the library. But this was a rare occurrence since Hyunjin, as a dance teacher, really had no valid reason to need library resources.

Speaking of which, the library, at my personal request, was the glorified version of an introvert’s paradise. It was always quiet, thanks to my meticulous monitoring, and was equipped with a small digital lab and self-named “relaxation room” where students (and staff) could enjoy a variety of stuffed couches and reclinable chairs to simply forget about the other horrors of high school. I was especially proud of the library’s progress, updating equipment and technology yearly due to my persistence in applying for a variety of government grants. Yes, I was satisfied with my status as the school’s “cool” librarian who enforced the strict library rules of conduct while also allowing a smidgen of favoritism when one of my students brought in a candy bar to eat during lunch.

Of course, such sanctity was frequently disrupted by my husband and his friends who demonstrated absolutely no regard for silence. Han Jisung was the worst of them all, waltzing into the library in stride to ask for whatever set of books he needed for his English classes. While I prepared the cart, he would talk relentlessly about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the much-dreaded topic of his endless stories about Hyunjin’s wilder days back in college. “I wish you could’ve been there, Y/N,” Jisung would snort. “Hyunjin took shots like they were water.”

“Yes, I know,” I would grumble while ordering him to leave the library before the remaining students were permanently traumatized.

And when Hyunjin would visit me, which seemed unnecessary considering he taught dance classes, he always made sure to completely take over my office, feet propped up on my desk while pouting at me to sit on his lap. Which was the opposite of professional considering the masses of students lingering around the bookshelves. But that never seemed to deter Hyunjin who always found a new and creative excuse to visit the library.

Like begging me to allow him to use my coffee machine.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin said, following me as I navigated the complicated filing system in the backroom. “I’m only asking because Jisung broke the one in the teacher’s lounge! And you know it might take weeks before they purchase a replacement.”

“Interesting,” I said, thumbing across the file tabs. “We have a coffee machine at home, don’t we, babe?”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment. “But what if I need more coffee later on?”

“One cup should be enough,” I nodded. “Caffeine isn’t good for you.”

“It’s actually great for me,” Hyunjin said. “If I didn’t have coffee, then I would be completely shut down by lunchtime.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I objected with a laugh.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin tried again. “As your husband-”

“- is that supposed to convince me?”

Hyunjin frowned. “I’ll clean the dishes and do the laundry until the machine in the lounge is fixed.”

I perked up instantly. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception for you...”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, starting for the small kitchen connected to my office. “I should have unlimited access.”

“And I should treat all my coworkers the same.”

“I’m offended, Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with the other teachers.”

I glared at him. “For your information, you’re the one who's always touting professionalism in the workplace.”

“But that was before I started to miss you during the day,” Hyunjin said, adjusting the settings on my coffee machine. “You have a safe haven in the library.”

“It gets the job done,” I said, joining him at the machine. “Did you know we had a new student at school?”

“Yang Jeongin?” he asked, pulling back his mug to take a sip. “He’s in my first-period dance class.”

“That’s him,” I nodded. “I noticed that always comes in here during lunch. Do you think he has any friends?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin mused. “I don’t see him interacting with his classmates.”

I shivered because the topic at hand reminded me too strongly of my own experiences in high school. “I feel bad for him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, babe,” Hyunjin reassured me. “If it makes you feel better, then I could talk to him tomorrow?”

“Would you do that for me?” I asked, holding on to his arm.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “Unlike you, I don’t ask for much when I’m doing something nice for my spouse.”

“Who else is going to keep you in check?” I asked him, pushing myself off from the counter.

Hyunjin gave my ass a polite swat on my way out the door. “Remember that we’re meeting Jisung and his new girlfriend for dinner.”

I groaned at the reminder. “Explain to me again, babe, why do we have to do that?”

“Because he’s my best friend,” Hyunjin said. “And he’s trying to make things less awkward.”

“Are we going to show up for all of his dates?” I asked. “To keep things less awkward?”

“You’re honestly just as dramatic as I am,” Hyunjin commented. “He’s only asking me for a small favor, and...” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “If you’re a good girl, then I might reward you when we get home later.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s been a while since we’ve been out, hasn’t it?”

Hyunjin grinned at my willing compliance.

Han Jisung’s new girlfriend was...interesting, to say the least. She arrived with her arm tucked securely around Jisung’s while dressed in a bright pink mini-skirt and lime green crop-top that left very little to the imagination. The moment she walked into the restaurant, every pair of eyes watched as she shimmied through the tables, greeting Hyunjin and I like we had known each other since childhood. “You guys look great!” she exclaimed, leaning across the table to offer my cheek a polite tap. “Girl, you have to tell me who does your hair.”

“Oh...” I trailed off, glancing at Hyunjin anxiously because my husband had forgotten to mention that we were meeting an eccentric child. Because Jisung’s girlfriend didn’t look a day over the legal age.

“I’m Hailey,” she announced, smacking her gum obnoxiously.

Meanwhile, Jisung was smiling like an idiot. “I hope we’re not late.”

“Of course not,” Hyunjin said and I rolled my eyes since apparently being half an hour late for your reservation was perfectly acceptable.

“Holy shit, you look like a runway model!” Haily declared, pointing at Hyunjin with exaggerated motions. “Honey, you didn’t tell me that you were friends with someone this gorgeous.”

I frowned at the comment while Hyunjin just shifted uncomfortably next to me. “Thank you?”

“Jinnie’s always been a lady killer,” Jisung said, pulling out Hailey’s chair before taking the seat next to Hyunjin.

“But you’re all married now,” Hailey pouted as if she was actually disappointed with Hyunjin’s marital status despite the fact that she had come here with Jisung.

“2 years,” Hyunjin said with a dramatic flourish of his wrist. “Woohoo!”

“Y’all got kids and stuff right?” Hailey asked, ignoring the waiter who had arrived at our table, clearing his throat to get her attention. Thankfully, Jisung had enough sense to dismiss him with a request for two glasses of water.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin said, more attentive now that the topic had switched to a topic that he favored. “We’re planning on having two or three.”

I kept my mouth firmly shut because Hyujin was clearly living in an alternate universe. “That’s amazing,” Haily gushed, leaning into Jisung. “Did you hear that, Sungie? Isn’t that like the ultimate dream?”

“Is it?” Jisung questioned, offering Haily a gentle kiss. “Do you want kids someday?”

“A whole house full of them,” Hailey exclaimed and Hyunjin offered me a shit-eating grin like that somehow proved that I was in the wrong for denying him any children.

“We’re still talking about it,” I effectively inserted.

“Sungie tells me that you’re both teachers,” she continued, driving the conversation in an entirely new direction.

“I’m a librarian technician,” I said. “Hyunjin teaches dance.”

“Wow,” Hailey gushed. “That’s so cool, Hyunjin.”

I grimaced because apparently, Librarians weren’t as qualified to be considered cool. “I’m lucky that I have such willing students,” Hyunjin said, nodding appreciatively.

Sometimes, Hyunjin loved being the center of attention.

“I’m in like some sort of dance club at my university,” Hailey said and I nearly choked on my wine.

“You’re in college?” Hyunjin asked, flashing Jisung a reprimanding look that sent the younger into a rapid explanation.

“She’s a Senior,” Jisung said as if that made everything better. “You’re graduating soon, right babe?”

“Supposedly,” Hailey said, making a mess of the breadsticks in the center of the table. “I have to somehow pass this boring math lecture first.”

Hyunjin was not convinced and neither was I considering Jisung’s problematic history of dating younger girlfriends. “How long have you been with Jisung?”

“I don’t know,” Haily shrugged indifferently. “Maybe two weeks.”

“And are you staying on campus, Hailey?” I asked the young girl who nodded affirmatively.

“Jisung wants me to move in though,” Hailey said and that was the last straw for Hyunjin who abruptly stood from the table.

“Jisung,” my husband murmured quietly. “Let’s talk outside for a moment.”

Jisung bowed his head, cheeks flushed because he knew that Hyunjin was moments away from one of his famous lectures. “Okay.”

Hailey was silent until they were out of earshot. “That was weird, right?”

I feigned indifference, even as my mind thought up several creative ways to kick Jisung’s ass for trying things out with someone who was at least ten years younger than him. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if said significant other was employed at some kind of big business as opposed to the salon next to her university. But I didn’t want to let Hailey know that anything was amiss, so I reached across to grab her hand. “Everything’s fine.”

Internally, I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

I woke up to the feeling of Hyunjin’s hard erection pressing against my ass. “Babe,” I groaned, attempting to fend off the lingering effects of sleep.

Hyunjin grunted from behind me, drawing his hips in methodical circles. “What?”

“Your dick,” was all I could manage before yawning over my words.

“Fuck, I was having a good dream,” Hyunjin whined. “Remember that bathing suit you wore on our honeymoon?”

“The bikini?”

“Yeah, I still think about it a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re hard because of my bathing suit?”

“More precisely, you in the bathing suit.”

“Whatever,” I said, rubbing my face against my pillow. “The alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

“That gives us time,” Hyunjin said suggestively, drawing a hand along the contour of my hip bone.

“To sleep.”

“No, Y/N,” Hyunjin countered, presence heavy as he drew himself up higher against the headboard. “You don’t even have to do anything.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t blame me if I fall asleep.”

“You know my dick’s better than that,” Hyunjin said, fussing over my panties as he pulled them down beneath the sheets. His fingers dug into my thigh, lifting my leg to a more comfortable position over his hip. I could feel his cock, thick and prodding, as he adjusted himself behind me.

“Are you ever gonna put it in?” I asked drowsily, wincing at the sudden penetration of his cock inside. “Shit, slow down you animal!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, slowing drawing out before pushing back in at a more acceptable pace.

“Slow is good,” I continued, adrenaline rushing through my sleep-deprived body, reacting to his advances with tentative thrusts back against him.

“It’s good, right?” Hyunjin asked with a touch of arrogance, reaching around me to play with my clit.

“It’s always good,” I said, deciding to satiate his ego for once, especially now that I was fully aroused, cognizant of the heavy drag of Hyunjin’s cock.

His vacant hand wandered up my shirt, teasing a nipple as he continued to punctuate each heavy drag of his cock with a low grunt of effort. “I feel like it’s been ages since we did this.”

“I guess you’re still horny from the ego boost Jisung’s girlfriend gave you last night.”

“What are you talking about?”

I imitated her voice. “Oh, Hyunjin, you must be in great shape from dancing all the time.”

“She’s right,” Hyunjin said, tightening his hold as he kicked his hips aggressively, slamming into me like he was trying to make a point. “Have you seen my thighs, babe?”

“I like to ride them.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin cursed, pressing even more insistently at my clit while his cock continued to fill my core. “I feel like a teenager again.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think I can last much longer either,” I said, panting as Hyunjin started to increase the power of his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm while I focused on the way it felt to be stimulated by his skilled fingers and impressive girth.

“Can I cum inside?” he asked, voice desperate but I remembered that I forgot to take my birth control pill the other day.

“Outside,” I said, reaching back to push against his chest. “I’ll suck your dick.”

“Please,” Hyunjin agreed without hesitation, pulling out with a wince while I tried to steady my shaky legs, straddling his thigh while leaning down for his cock. Hyunjin curled his fingers through my hair, directing my head to the tip, allowing my tongue to get its first taste of his pre-cum.

I hollowed my cheeks, taking in as much of his cock as I could before I felt the tip barely touch the back of my throat. Still, it was enough to make me gag and I pulled back to avoid the risk of walking around school with a sore throat all day. I took the remainder of his cock into my hand, tightening my grip at the base which rewarded me with a loud moan from Hyunjin. Meanwhile, I had slowly started to rock myself back and forth on his thigh, aiming for my own release while trying to encourage Hyunjin to cum down my throat.

“Beautiful,” he said, eyes filled with tears and adoration as he watched me take in more of his cock, nose brushing against his skin.

It only took a few more moments for Hyunjin to finally cum, throwing back his head as his hips jolted against the bed. I swallowed him down with a grimace because I still hated the taste of cum no matter how many times I offered him a blowjob. Pulling off his spent cock, I focused on myself, reaching down to give my clit a few more well-placed strokes before I was following him into a hormone-induced coma.

I fell against his chest, allowing him to run his hand up and down my back. “Babe, you’re my hero.”

I snorted at his comment. “What time is it?”

“We still have five minutes.”

“Good,” I groaned. “I’ll need every second to recover.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Want to take your mind off it?”

“Maybe,” I said, appreciating his warmth. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “I gave him a stern lecture last night.”

“You go, babe.”

“Seriously, I can’t believe he’s dating a college student.”

“The Han Jisung? Nothing he does surprises me.”

“He says he really likes this girl.”

“No offense,” I said. “But I hope that was to defend himself because the girl is a nightmare.”

“Might finally put Jisung in his place.”

“Nobody can do that,” I said, using my arms to leverage myself back into a sitting position. “How bad is my hair?”

“My fingers weren’t helpful.”

“A shower then,” I nodded, glancing back at the bathroom. “You wanna join?”

Hyunjin’s breath caught. “I think you’re spoiling me, babe.”

It had become a recurring pattern, watching Jeongin walk into the library during his scheduled lunch period. Every day, he sat down at one of the computers in the lab to play some kind of online game that I didn’t protest since he wasn’t disturbing the other students. Truthfully, I didn’t really care one way or another, but I was starting to feel like Jeongin was intentionally avoiding his classmates. I understood that it was probably hard to transfer schools, but to attend classes by yourself with no friends to support you?

I shuddered at the thought, making up my mind as I carefully approached him. “Jeongin,” I said, awkwardly leaning against the side of the computer desk. “That was the bell for lunch.”

The younger boy glanced up to me timidly. “Oh, well I thought it was okay for students to spend lunch in the library.”

“It is,” I acknowledged. “But I thought you might want to spend some time with your friends.”

Jeongin ducked his head down, cheeks blushing red. “Not really.”

“Okay,” I said, struggling to finish my thoughts before spotting Hyunjin walking into the library. “I’ll be right back,” I said before practically sprinting to meet Hyunjin in my office. “Come here,” I said, pulling him to the side. “We have a problem.”

“I know,” he said with tired eyes. “I have no coffee.”

“Hyunjin,” I chastised him quietly. “That new kid always spends his lunch period in the library. He says he’s not interested in hanging out with anyone.”

“Well, that’s his choice,” Hyunjin said. “Some kids are really shy.”

“I know,” I grumbled. “But you know I was the same way in high school and I regret it now, hiding in the library during lunch because I had nobody to sit with.”

“You were a nerd too,” Hyunjin giggled.

“Do you want to keep using the coffee machine?”

“Sorry, babe.”

“Anyway,” I continued. “I think we should help Jeongin make some new friends. What about group activities in your dance classes?”

“I guess,” Hyunjin relented. “But I don’t want to force him.”

“You assign the groups then,” I said. “And let me know how he reacts.”

“Well, just based on what I’ve seen so far, he definitely prefers to be alone.”

“Then we have to reach out to him,” I said, holding tight to Hyunjin’s arm. “Nobody should be alone all the time.”

“He may not like it if we try to force him into something.”

“Then we back off if he shows any signs of being uncomfortable,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “A compromise.”

“If you really insist,” Hyunjin said, gliding past me for the coffee machine. “I’ll do my best, and I’ll let Chan and the others know.”

“Oh!” I gasped. “That’s a great idea! I can talk to the other teachers in the lounge!”

Hyunjin chuckled. “I thought you hated the teacher’s lounge?”

“Yeah? Well, I’m making an exception for the betterment of a student,” I proclaimed, waiting until Hyunjin finished refilling his coffee mug before ushering him out into the hallway. “Who’s usually in there?” I asked as we walked together.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “Maybe Chan and Felix.”

“Chan and Jisung might be helpful,” I conceded. “What about Felix? Does Jeongin take art classes?”

“Babe, I don’t have his schedule memorized.”

“That’s first on the list,” I said with a nod.

We both paused outside the lounge as I attempted to listen in on the conversation progressing behind closed doors. “Who is that?”

Hyunjin chuckled, reaching past me for the door handle. He pushed it open wide, allowing us enough room to join the small group of teachers loitering between scheduled classes. “Y/N!” Jisung immediately greeted me, waltzing over to take my arm. “You never come in the lounge.”

“I’m making an exception,” I said, allowing Jisung to pull me to the table where Chan, Felix, and Changbin were all sitting together.

“You guys,” I said, sliding into an available seat. “What’s going on?”

Changbin eyed me suspiciously. “You never come here unless you want something.”

From behind my chair, Hyunjin snorted. “It’s one hell of a mission.”

“I knew it!” Felix declared, leaning back in his chair. “What sort of personal vendetta do you have now?”

“I’m offended,” I said, crossing my arms sternly over my chest. “Aren’t we all friends?”

“Of course we are, Y/N,” Chan said soothingly, ever the voice of reason.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Which is why I need your help.”

Felix groaned, but I quickly jumped in to assure him. “It’s about that new kid, Yang Jeongin.”

“What about him?” Changbin grunted. “Other than the fact that he hates running exercises.”

“He’s taking gym?”

Changbin nodded, picking at the meager salad in front of him. “I don’t understand why.”

“Because it’s destiny,” I said, holding out my arms. “We’re meant to help guide him down the right path.”

“What path is that?” Changbin asked.

“The path of redemption,” I said, elbowing Hyunjin from behind when I heard him laughing. “He’s always in the library during free periods. I don’t think he’s adjusting to the school.”

“It happens with transfers,” Felix shrugged.

“But we can do something to help him,” I said. “Encourage him to make new friends and meet new classmates.”

“You want us to help with your ‘No Child Left’ behind agenda?” Changbin asked.

“I want you to help me lift a student’s self-confidence,” I said. “Jeongin is a sweet kid. He just needs a good push in the right direction.”

“Basically,” Hyunjin interrupted, leaning over me. “Y/N had no friends in high school and she wishes that there was a kind, sweet librarian with a great ass to help guide her way.”

“Don’t bring my ass into this,” I said, ducking away from his hold. “So what do you guys think?”

Felix sipped at his tea. “He’s not in any of my classes, but I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Why not?” Jisung suddenly commented. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re just trying to make up for last night’s dinner disaster,” I said, “but I’m willing to let you this time.”

Jisung let out a whoop while Changbin and Chan considered my words. “It’s fine with me,” Chan said. “Changbin?”

“Alright,” Changbin relented. “But this is your fault if the kid turns against us.”

“Trust me, nothing bad is gonna happen.”

A few days later, I received an urgent notice from the nurse’s office which was surprising considering the fact that I was usually stuck in the library all day. I sighed over my ever-growing stack of paperwork, gathering my cell phone before leaving the sanctity of my quiet office. There was an order form calling my name that I had been neglecting for several weeks now, but I figured that the unexpected notice could prove to be a legitimate distraction. After all, I was quite curious concerning why I was suddenly needed away from the library.

I paused outside the door to the nurse’s office, trying to listen to the sounds of conversation. Faint voices filtered through the barrier, including one that sounded awfully familiar. I held my breath as I walked inside, discovering my husband lying on top of the examination table. Hyunjin winced as the school nurse wrapped an ice pack around his ankle. “Fuck it hurts.”

“Hyunjin,” I said his name and my husband turned around to face me with a start. “What happened?”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin cried while reaching out for me. “Why did you take so long?”

“Really?” I immediately questioned him. “Babe, you’re the one with a bandage on your foot.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I twisted my ankle.”

I closed my eyes before releasing a sigh. “How did this happen?”

“Student-teacher race,” Hyunjin replied as if that possibly provided enough context for me to understand.

“A race?”

“Changbin thought it might be fun if the students competed against the teachers,” Hyunjin explained. “Like a reward.”

“You’re rewarding the students by putting your life in danger?”

“My life was never in danger, Y/N,” Hyunjin said with a sigh.

“Then why are you hurt?” I asked him, reaching over to land a scolding hit to his arm.

“Hey!” Hyunjin complained, holding his bicep now despite the ice packet still resting over his ankle.

“You idiot,” I groaned. “You aren’t 16 anymore. Why are you trying to outrace a bunch of student-athletes anyway?”

“Maybe I did it for you,” Hyunjin announced dramatically, falling rather ungracefully against the table.

“Why is participating in a race so important to me?”

“You said you wanted to get closer to that Jeongin kid,” Hyunjin explained. “He asked me to run with them.”

“Jeongin did?” I asked, suddenly unable to stop myself from laughing, practically slumping over Hyunjin’s lap.

“What’s so funny?”

“I may have told him a funny story about his dance instructor from your college days.”

Hyunjin gasped. “You didn’t!”

I shrugged. “I was trying to make him feel better.”

“By outing my humiliating secrets?”

“It was a worthy sacrifice, babe,” I said with a grin. “Just be glad I wasn’t there to watch it happen.”

“You’re always so supportive,” Hyunjin said, faintly protesting when I leaned down to offer him a gentle kiss. “Is this an apology?”

“I’m really proud of you, Hyunjin,” I said, reaching down to adjust the pillow propping his ankle.

“Whatever,” Hyunjin grumbled. “The kid was important to you.”

“But you didn’t have to go that far,” I said, gliding my fingers through his hair because I knew he loved the action.

“Maybe you can blow me later and all will be forgiven.”

“Done.”

The following week, I spotted Jeongin walking through the library on his way to class. He paused at one of the bookshelves, fingers skimming the faded spines. “Hey!” I said, catching his attention. “You weren’t in the library yesterday.”

“I know,” he said with a wide smile. “I was eating with some friends.”

My heart warmed at his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes trained downward. “They seem pretty cool.”

“Jeongin,” I cooed because it was impossible to resist his adorable smile. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“I know you had something to do with it,” the younger boy said and my smile instantly disappeared. “But it’s okay, I’m really glad you decided to help me.”

“Jeongin..” I started but broke off when I took a moment to study the crooked aspect to his knowing grin.

The doors to the library interrupted the brief silence that had descended between us, and Chan walked in with his eyes scanning over a folder that he held between his hands. “Ah! I’m interrupting something,” he said, looking back and forth between me and Jeongin.

“Oh, I was on my way out,” Jeongin said, bowing respectfully to Chan as he passed him.

Chan watched him go before looking to me for answers. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” I said, quickly switching the subject. “Did you need something?”

“Just a class copy of these books,” Chan said, holding up his folder. “Do you think you can help me bring them back to my classroom?”

“Why not?” I shrugged, taking the folder from Chan. “I have some free time before I have to file a few things.”

I guided Chan around the library to collect the books on his list, casually talking with him about one of the new teachers in the Science department. “Minho?” I said, vacantly scanning the barcodes of a display with textbooks.

“Yeah, he’s starting next week,” Chan said, grunting as he adjusted his hold on the giant stack of books collecting in his arms.

“Should be interesting,” I said, adding one last textbook to the pile in Chan’s arms. “Is this everything?”

“I hope so,” Chan grumbled. “Do you need my teacher ID?”

“I’ll scan it later,” I said, watching him struggle. “Let’s go before these end up on the floor.”

Chan let out a grateful sigh, and I maintained a careful distance at his side to ensure that my precious books wouldn’t suddenly drop from his hold. Thankfully, Chan seemed to have everything under control, like he was prone to do in most aspects of his life for which I was grateful. “Jeongin’s doing much better,” Chan remarked to me in passing as we walked together to his classroom.

“Yeah, he really seems to be opening up, especially after Hyunjin’s stunt in the gym.”

Chan snorted at the reminder. “I wish you could have been there, Y/N. But, if you’re curious, Changbin has the whole incident on video.”

“I’d love to see that...” I trailed off, spotting Hyunjin approaching on his new crutches.

“You know, I could hear you all the way over here!”

“Hyunjin,” I said, meeting him halfway so that he wouldn’t need to walk as far. “I was planning to come by and see you.”

“My arms hurt constantly,” Hyunjin said, adjusting his stance. “Honestly, I don’t even think these things are necessary.”

“Doctor’s orders,” I said swiftly, directing a quick goodbye to Chan before I was redirecting Hyunjin back to his classroom. “And don’t even try to demonstrate any crazy dance choreographies for these kids.”

“How else are they gonna learn?” Hyunjin demanded, even as he leaned more of his weight against my side for additional support.

Later that night, after a rather long day of ensuring that Hyunjin didn’t try to do anything too outrageous, the two of us finally returned home. I was rather proud of myself since Hyunjin was still in one piece. I half-expected to receive another call from the nurse’s office because my husband decided he needed to show off his moonwalk to impress his students.

In any case, what Hyunjin didn’t know was that I had started thinking a lot about the future, especially after everything that he did to help Jeongin. Suddenly, the idea of having kids was a lot less unappealing. This is why I immediately started for the bathroom, a new purpose driving my steps, while Hyunjin carefully made his way across the living room.

I opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve a familiar box, returning to our shared bedroom to find Hyunjin laying in bed, phone in hand as his eyelids fought to stay open. Gingerly, I handed him my current prescription of birth control, watching as he struggled to focus. “What’s this?”

“Surprise!”

“Isn’t there an easier way to tell me that you’re running low?”

I rolled my eyes at his question. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hyunin frowned, taking the box from me. “It’s almost 9:00, Y/N.”

“You’re really bad at subliminal messages,” I said, kneeling down on the bed. “I’m giving the rest of the prescription to you because I’m not taking it anymore.”

Hyunjin’s eyes slowly widened as he processed my words. “But that means...

“I don’t mind the idea of kids anymore,” I said. “Especially if they turn out like Jeongin.”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin grinned, wordlessly tackling me against the bed. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I am,” I informed him, tracing my fingers across his pretty lips. “I want to have kids with you. Preferably a boy, so we should start eating a ton of potassium.”

“What?”

“To increase our chances, Hyunjin,” I said. “There’s science behind the kind of diet you eat.”

“You’re trying to tell me that if I eat more potassium, then we’ll have a boy?”

“Well, it helps our chances.”

Hyunjin still appeared doubtful, but his eyes were warm. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s right,” I agreed brightly, wrapping my arms around his neck to draw him in closer.

“Y/N, I love you,” Hyunjin said, leaning down for a sweet kiss. “You know how much this means to me.”

“I know,” I agreed, snuggling up against his chest. “For the record, I love you more.”

“Should we put that to the test?”

I closed my eyes as I resisted a smile. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stay kids smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut

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minimoefoe · 3 years

Photo

fight me about it

[each tier is just in release order, they’re not individually ranked. more thoughts under the cut]

[Going into this MCU watch I had already seen Iron Man 1, Iron Man 2, Doctor Strange, Ant-Man, Homecoming and half of The Incredible Hulk]

---- S TIER ----

- AVENGERS - I fuckin love seeing them all together in a lil crossover moment. And it makes me more interested in characters like Steve Rogers who I don’t really care about to be interested in a full movie about him but I like seeing him in the Avengers movies hanging out with everyone. I nearly cried when they were all stood doing their pose in the middle of the road. You know the one. Also I love Loki in this but I mean I love him in everything so that’s not a surprise.

- AGE OF ULTON - I was depressed when I found out there would no Loki but I still loved it, again, because it was a big ensemble movie. Ultron was really funny. 10/10 villain. I liked Clint as well which is rare because I generally couldn’t care less about him

- RAGNAROK - From the metas I’ve been reading/skimming through recently I guess this is a pretty polarizing film and I can (kinda) see why but idk, it works for me. I love the vibes. I’m not really into superhero movies (which is ironic considering I committed to watching 20+ superhero movies) and I think that’s probs part of why I like this film so much, it for sure has a different vibe to all the other MCU films. I’m obsessed with everyone in this.

- INFINITY WAR & END GAME - Obsessed. Crossover event. I was dreading End Game because of how long it is but I think watching all the previous movies so quickly meant an extra 30mins of a film was nothing. I love everyone. I spent half of my time watching these movies on like the edge of tears I stg. I didn’t realise Thanos had like an active motive for doing what he’s doing, I thought he was just Generic Evil Guy so that was really cool. I knew who was gonna die so that wasn’t a shock to me but it did still hit me pretty hard.

- LOKI - I just love it so much. I could have maybe done with an extra in there somewhere that was more of Loki and Sylvie building their relationship and kind being forced to spend time together because it does low-key feel like they fell in love after being together for like 24 hours but meh, it’s not a big deal. Love it a lot.

---- A TIER ----

- GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL 1 & VOL 2 - Love all the characters a lot, very fun. Don’t have much to say, I just really like it. Also them paired with Thor is the most exciting shit I’m so ready for it

- ANT-MAN - Paul Rudd my beloved. Funny. Don’t have much to say lmao, I just like it a lot.

- SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING & FAR FROM HOME - I just love Peter Parker so much bro he’s so cute and funny. Protect him at all costs tbh. No Way Home trailer WHEN

---- B TIER ---

- THOR - I was really excited to watch this and then when I did I was like yeah it’s fine. I didn’t like Loki as much as I thought I was going to but then I loved him in everything else he’s in which is weird? I think I’m going to like him (and the film in general) a lot more when I rewatch it in a couple of days. Thor’s blonde eyebrows are gross I’m sorry.

- THOR: THE DARK WORLD - Again, good but nothing to write home about. I think everything with Loki in this is GOD TIER. He has some great shit going on in this film, same with Thor 1 tbh I just don’t think I was paying enough attention to really appreciate it in Thor 1. Will probs also like this more on a rewatch.

- IRON MAN 3 - Easily the best Iron Man film. Funny but also told quite a serious story with Tony’s PTSD or whatever it was.

- DOCTOR STRANGE - Don’t have much to say, it’s just cool innit

- WANDAVISION - I wanted to love this because I love Wanda and Vision and I’d been wanting to see more of them but overall I was just like yeah this is good I guess. Like there are some eps where I was like wow I don’t care and there are other eps where I was really into it. I didn’t like the black and white episodes (not because they were bad but because I don’t like watching things in black and white, I find it hard to connect with it idk), I loved white vision, I loved the ep where she was pregnant, I didn’t love the going back to Darcy and whoever they were watching Wanda’s show or whatever, I don’t give a fuuuck about Agatha, I do love the story they’re tryna tell about Wanda’s grief and all that. So yeah, overall.. Average. I love what they’re tryna tell but I’m iffy on the way they told it.

- THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER - I’ve always thought Sam was fine and Bucky was meh but this show made me like them both a lot. Iconic duo. Defo more my vibe in that it wasn’t all over the place like Wandavision was but it’s still not my faaave thing in the world.

--- C TIER ---

- IRON MAN 2 - I’ve watched this twice now and literally all I remember is Pepper shouting at Tony from the car??? I don’t remember being bored but it clearly didn’t leave a lasting impression on me lmao

- CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER - I was dreading watching this but I was pleasantly surprised. I was invested at some points but at other points I felt like it was going on forever. Defo an interesting backstory. Skinny Steve Rogers is my sleep paralysis demon

- CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR - The big airport fight was really cool but do I fuck know what they were fighting about

- ANT-MAN AND THE WASP - It was funny like the first one, I love Paul Rudd and the Ghost (was that her name??) has a cool power but overall I just.... don’t care about that woman’s lost mother I’m sorry. The end where you see they’ve been dusted is really cool tho.

--- D TIER ----

- IRON MAN - It is good I’ve just seen it 3 times at this point and I think once would have been enough

- THE INCREDIBLE HULK - Watched the first hour-ish of this a year-ish ago and basically fell asleep and I couldn’t face trying it again so I just skipped it and threw it in D tier. Maybe I’ll try again one day. Maybe I won’t. It doesn’t really fit in with all the other films so meh

- CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER - All I remember is a cool car chase scene and Bucky looked cool. I think I need to rewatch this because people seem to really love it? And I just didn’t care.

- CAPTAIN MARVEL - It was fine. I just don’t care. Soz Carol

#mcu #marvel #tier list #..

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maruzzewrites · 4 years

Text

Every breath you take. - 8

The drive was quiet, if only for the lack of attention you had for your surroundings. Each curve and streetlight was ingrained in your brain, your hands following the journey to your house with ease, allowing your mind to wander to the magic, dreamy land where you could imagine being safe and sound away from those men. Free and untroubled, allowing yourself to relax to the point of destruction, welcoming the contained stress of those months.

Before you could think too much, you were right in front of your house and your car was parked in the usual spot. You were in a trance, with your overworked brain straining to stop tearing and aching for the thoughts plaguing it. You slumped against the seat and turned off the car, enjoying the complete silence that came with the engine shutting down and the emptiness of the street. When you closed your eyes to give yourself away even more, they burned with the intensity of fatigue. You even felt yourself drift to sleep, slowly, before a swift knock on the car’s window made you jump.

You threw your head to the side, your vision a bit fuzzy, and saw the figure of a man right outside your car. Panic washed over you, but when the face that was looking at you become clearer, your fear morphed into worry and regret. Your fiance, or ex-fiance. You swallowed the lump in your throat, but figured he deserved any type of clarification or closure he asked for. He even deserved to yell and get angry, tearing into you to destroy what little hope you had left and push you fully into the cold feeling of not caring what would happen to you, giving up the prospect of freedom completely. You shook your head at the notion, and climbed out of the car before you could allow yourself to drown into your anxieties more.

When you were standing up, in front of him, you forced yourself to look him in the eyes. No matter how many times your gaze slipped and lowered, you pushed yourself to raise your head and wait for him to speak; no matter what, your throat was too dry to allow you to talk first, even if it was your duty to apologize and let him go. Despite a few seconds passing from the moment you were standing in front of him to the first words coming from his mouth, you felt the weight of each single second that ticked away and dropped on your mind, making you feel even more oppressed than you needed to.

“You look tired,” his voice didn’t betray any sentiment that wasn’t worry or apprehension, and you hated yourself ten times more with each note of concern. Any good resolution to keep your gaze steady and somber collapsed along with your eyes, pointed down and burning with tears. But you had to contain yourself, in front of him, so that he could just walk away. It didn’t matter if it was with bitter feelings or resentment towards you, until it meant he was far away from harm. Yet, you could head in his tone he wasn’t inclined to go along with your plan, “You don’t have to shoulder this, I’m here for you.”

It was a blow, hard and fast, knocking you out. You didn’t know how to answer or how to convince him to leave you alone, build his life differently, most of all because your heart ached at the thought. You didn’t want him to abandon you and find someone else, create a family and a future with them, it was supposed to be you. Selfish, and egotistical, but you wanted nothing more than to turn back and prevent yourself from throwing your life to those brutes who were only tearing it to shreds. You were allowing them to do so and no matter what path you would take, someone would suffer from it – never them, it seemed.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave you like this.” The finality, with the sweet consideration, it choked you to the point you couldn’t keep your tears from spilling, your voice cracked before even coming out. Your mind shattered for the umpteenth time, and your fiance was there to avoid losing the shards. He approached you, held you in his arms, reassured you that he would back off if you wanted to, but his words were clear and loud in their veiled self-assurance that you didn’t desire for him to go away, not for real.

All the while, you breathed with shallow and forced mouthfuls, your throat shut tight for the anxiety, the guilt, the hatred and the shame. All your fault, it was all your fault, it didn’t matter how much your rational thoughts screamed your innocence; if only you weren’t so weak and passive, those men wouldn’t see an inviting prey to their twisted game. Your fingers wouldn’t dig into your fiance’s back in an ambiguous tug to bring him closer and push him away. You wouldn’t fear your parents seeing you from the windows of your home in a way that you wouldn’t be able to explain without the whole story. And you were too tired, exhausted, to really conjure excuses and lies, cover the truth just for the peace of your loved ones.

In the safe embrace of your beloved, you crushed. It was ugly, but it was silent, kept intimate by the lingering terror of those assassins. And it was done before you could allow yourself to really let it all out, just to explain that you needed a bit of time, just patience to recompose yourself. In time, those men would leave you alone and you could come back to him, you begged for his forgiveness and his understanding, but you pleaded for him not to wait for you. The hurt in his eyes was enough to break what remained of your heart, and the promise he made to be there for you was the final cut.

“It’s not for you. It’s for me.” He answered your last supplication for him to move on with a curt and gentle statement, and you were left with nothing to do but exhale a shaky breath. He offered the subtlest of smiles to you, leaned in to give you a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, and walked away slowly. You kept your head low, and didn’t raise it until his steps couldn’t be heard anymore. You scanned the street and found it empty, the feeling filling you a mix of calm and regret. You turned you walk towards your house and found the entrance door open. You frowned at the carelessness of whoever left the apartment complex open to intruders, but figured one of your neighbors just left it like that for a quick errand. You stepped in the common grounds, locked the door in a way that would prevent it from closing and walked towards the first steps of the staircase, deep down the vast courtyard.

Oddly enough, the door slammed shut on the other side. You turned quickly, but saw no one there to enter. You were alone and the wind was too weak that day to be of much help with the violent bang. At first, you considered going back and opening it again, but decided against it just in case someone sneaked in and was waiting to ambush you. You bit your tongue at your paranoid thought, just another deformity brought to you by the last months, but you reassured yourself with the knowledge that it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, in that city.

With the assumption that you would prefer to avoid any danger, you sprinted up the stairs and threw some glances towards the front door. No one in sight, not even trying to run after you, so you relax right before the entrance could disappear before your eyes. Climbing the stairs is a dreadful affair, if only because of the sensation of being at home, inside those walls that offered security for your entire life. You could allow yourself to fall apart in that privacy, show the weariness, and strain of that burden. The soft click of the key opening the wood door felt like the alarm that warned your brain of safety. Oddly enough, your idea of safety shaped into the possibility of torturing yourself in complete freedom and privacy in a few months; the taste of that thought was bitter and sour, leaving you with a grimace.

Once inside, you debated with yourself about announcing you were home, but you were anticipated by the quick steps of your mother from the living room. You knew the rhythm of her walk, somewhere between excitement and confusion, ready to rush towards the source of news that more easily could provide her with the right information. It just happened that you were the source, that time. She surfaced in a few instants at the door separating the hallway from the living room, and her face lightened up when she was sure it was you.

She nudged you into the room, window wide open and two cups of mugs peacefully sitting on the dining table, the one she would always insist on leaving without a stain and only using during the holidays. You frowned at the odd display, but her voice came to talk about someone. Someone who was there right before you arrived, and maybe you met him on your way up. Your mother wondered if that was the reason you took so much time outside your house, as she noticed your car coming up from the window and the stranger quickly excusing himself to meet you right outside the door. She giggled as she recollected the sound of a man’s voice outside the window, in the silent street. And your frown only deepened, with the muttered question of who she was talking about.

“Your friend,” she sounded genuinely confused, her head tilted as if she didn’t hear correctly. She blinked once, looked over the open window and then down the hallway where the front door was. She turned back to you after a second, a note of thoughtfulness in her words, “Blonde, slim. He introduced himself as a friend of yours, someone you knew very intimately.”

Her gaze turned soft, with strokes of complicity painting it. She lowered her voice as if she was sharing a secret with you, “You don’t have to hide it, you know,” her tone was aggravating to your nerves, your mind already working and turning to make sense of everything presented to you. You weren’t that naïve that you didn’t understand what was happening, not with your mother description of this man who walked into your house, but deep down your irrational brain was pushing the notion away so that you didn’t have to process it to its full extent. However, you weren’t granted that luxury, not with your mother continuing to talk, “Is he the reason you were nervous lately? And you ended your relationship?”

You were incredulous. The mixture of emotions inside of you, too overwhelming to be separated and named with precision, made you dizzy and unable to react properly in the seconds right after her questions. By the way her face changed in a look of pure confusion and light worry, you could understand your own features morphed into the close approximation of your internal turmoil. In the confusion in your own head, your mind scrambled and trashed to grip anything to anchor an emotion, any among the amalgamation, and eventually settled on indignation. Cold, vicious outrage that was born from abuse you had to endure, unable to take concrete form before melting into anxiety for the entirety of your permanence in that house.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that.” Your answer was final and cutting, more frigid than anything you had ever said before, especially to your parents. Your mother’s disbelief was so genuine and sudden that she didn’t have time to berate you, grumbling about misunderstandings and moodiness while she collected the cups from the table and disappeared somewhere. You didn’t follow her with your eyes, too focused in front of you. Then you turned to the window, with the gentle breeze coming in and leading you to the edge to look down.

There, kissed by the sun, was Prosciutto. Leaning on the side of your car, close to the front door of your apartment building. He was smoking, and the cigarette was lazily hanging from his lips as his head with tip back. His unfocused gaze shifted to you when he detected motion at your house’s window, and his hand left his pocket to take the cigarette between his index and middle finger to let out a puff of smoke. Barely anything changed in his behavior, he didn’t wave, he didn’t smile, just looked at you while lounging in front of your house. In your space, where you could be safe and away from their prying hands, their creepy and frightening presence.

It was impetus, a surge of anger you bottled up for far too long, that made you move away from that window in a hurry. You barged in your own room, bringing all that negativity inside of your calm and placid sanctuary, and threw your drawer open. You didn’t ponder on it too much, grabbing whatever could be caught in your trembling hands and letting everything else fall to its destiny, on the floor, with a noise that sounded too loud in your ears. Yet, you didn’t pay any mind to the mess or the highlighted senses, storming into the living room with heavy steps, hasty and unsteady with emotion fueling them.

Your hand found the windowsill, gripping it tightly in a matter of seconds. A quick look down and you could see Prosciutto was still there, his feet now crossed and his eyes looking in front of him, his head lightly tilted in the direction of the front door. The flame inside of you flickered in a last sparkle of bravery, just what you needed to raise your hand and throw whatever was in your hand down. The pocket mirror and the jewelry hit the ground, and the noise cut the air into a loaded silence as Prosciutto’s head whipped in the direction of the ruined trinkets.

Time seemed to have stopped, if only enough to let your courage cool down, solidify into a monument for the fear building up. Prosciutto’s eyes raised, slowly, and you could imagine the narrow slits of his eyes wound your skin, bruising your resolve. Despite seeing the entire scene in front of you, the details seemed foggy and distant, helped by the distance between you and him. However, you could feel the burning glare dragging the bile in your throat up, up, until it lapped at your tongue and palate. It felt corrosive, and alien, almost too much to bear; Prosciutto’s hand raised again, and you flinched as if he was about to strike you across the face.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between his thumb and index, and then he flicked it away from him and onto the street. It landed somewhere near the remains of their gifts, still lit, and when your gaze shifted towards your car, Prosciutto was already walking away in the direction that would bring him farther away from the right path for his house. You followed his silhouette as it got smaller and darker, a simple dot in the gray of the street, and then your eyes dropped to the mess you made.

Shattered, broken in small pieces, all across the narrow street. Tomorrow, you would probably find it there to greet you when you stepped outside. The cigarette continued to burn, consume itself on the concrete, falling apart with agonizing slowness. Despite being so far away and so small, you felt like you could smell it, for how much you grew to know its shape and scent. Slender and elegant, so common at his lips that you could barely imagine him without, and you wanted to puke at the familiarity of that image.

The show in display to you, of the corpse made by your own hands, was enough to make your stomach close, twist and knot in painful, disgusting ways. It had been an impulsive choice, dictated by false safety and the violation of the only fantasy you allowed yourself in your situation, a dream where you could close the door of your house and the would disappear, not cross the imaginary boundary you set to feel as if you could escape or, at least, pretend to. Even then, when you retreated in your room, you felt your throat tighten dangerously at the sight of what was left on the floor, as clues of your fleeting rage.

You bent down to pick up the hairband and twisted it between your fingers, stretching out the cheap rubber band keeping it together and functional. You were suddenly captured by an odd state, where your mind couldn’t stop thinking about what you did – no, what happened, you did nothing – and, yet, it was like your mind was completely blank. A static silence in your ears, pushing any sound outside to be ignored, while your brain run after a thought, the concept of the chaos you may have created for yourself. However, it was a confused chase in the dark as you couldn’t grasp and focus on the current situation.

What could happen, would Prosciutto really tell his teammates what you did? Or was he too proud of a man to really confide in the only people who could be called his friends or confidantes? It was unnerving how little you knew of them and, no matter how much you felt their eyes on you or how much they deluded themselves, they knew next to nothing about you. They barely seemed to know anything about other human beings, how they operate and how they would build their lives outside the line of organized crime. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly coming back in room after the gloomy thought shoved you back to reality to defend yourself from other dark considerations.

You left the hairband on the desk, unsure about finally dumping it inside the trashcan you left in your room. Then, you noticed the phone you left at home all day, checking the notifications that you had. Obviously, some calls from numbers you didn’t memorize, but could identify at first glance. After getting rid of those notifications, you noticed how some of your own friends attempted to call you during the day and, in the end, a single missed call from your fiance.

Conflict started inside of you, but you forced yourself to ignore his attempt to call you. After all, you were sure he did so only to talk and before he started to wait for you outside your house. You grimaced at the thought that he could have met Prosciutto, getting out of your home just before leaving, and for a moment a cold flash of horror crossed your brain. Prosciutto did go in the same direction as your fiance. For your peace of mind, you shook your head at the notion and pushed yourself to call your friends.

All it took was a few rings, then a familiar voice greeted you with cheerful energy. You responded, but she didn’t even notice the evident drain in your tone before she went on a rant about how she met a nice man that day. There was a note in her voice, as if she was trying to communicate a complicit wink with her voice. You didn’t like it at all, making your hand clench with the implications that you didn’t want to understand. She continues, about a bony scientist with odd hair and an even weirder outfit approaching her in the streets, as if they knew each other. He said he was a friend of yours, how much you talked about her and the rest of the group, he even showed a photo of you without much on that could indicate anything but closeness with him.

Your lips felt too dry to open and speak, your eyes fixed on the wall in front of you as you slowly lowered yourself on the bed. You felt ill at the second instance of invasion of your privacy and your personal sphere; no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself that it could be pure coincidence that the description matched one of the demented men who was harassing you out of a life, you couldn’t even attempt to deflect the evidence presented to you. So you stayed silent while your friend threw you question after question about this new, mysterious suitor of yours.

“I gotta be honest,” her tone took an annoying pitch, a turn that you couldn’t foresee or forget once your brain registered it. You didn’t know what to expect by this exchange when your friend didn’t have the context of the whole situation. Not that you had any intention to let her know, if that could spare her. All the same, her words started to cut worse than knives, “He was way better than your ex. At least he seemed to have something going on for him!”

You dry heaved at the idea and at the hints, covering the motion and the noise with a sudden fit of coughs that shook your body with violence and tremors. Your muscles strained, and you heard your friend inquire about your well being, a trace of concern in her voice. You recuperated as soon as you could, but your tone was shaky when you talked, “Don’t say that, please.”

It was different from the treatment you reserved your mother earlier, now that your anger melted into meek exhaustion and inconveniencing apprehension. You couldn’t bring yourself to yell or demand, just metaphorically dragging yourself on your knees to beg them to reconsider any idea those first encounters instilled in their heads. Your friend, however, didn’t catch the nuance in your voice as you silently pleaded with her, and simply insisted that he seemed like a nice man, someone perfect for you and your future away from the fatigue of illicit work inside strangers’ houses. Those words sent shivers up and down your spine.

“He isn’t what he seems.” You couldn’t gather the strength to counter further, that statement all your mind could pierce together to argue against the good intentions of that vile person who wanted to slither inside your life. She didn’t let go though, still stubborn that he couldn’t be dangerous, or that bad if you allowed yourself to be looked at in such a plain fashion by him. You gritted your teeth at the answer, at the attitude, at the misplaced irritation and at the frustration building up as you couldn’t scream at the world what you were going through. With a rushed decision, you ended the call as she was still talking, and ignored the subsequent call as you left the phone hit the bed under you.

Your forehead found your hands, and you dragged the palms up and down your face as if to wake yourself up from a long, delirious nightmare of a life. Tomorrow, you would wake up as if it was the day before your first day on the job, and you would walk in hesitantly. You would clean and leave them lunch, but you would come back to find them relaxing in their house, not minding you at all. Ignored and neglected by those dangerous men, only some words exchanged for requests and compliments on your cooking, but nothing more than that. You felt your eyes getting misty at the wishful desire in your heart.

You bit your tongue when your phone ringed again, a quick glance over your shoulder letting you know that it was one of those men calling. You didn’t know if it was Melone, as he was the most recurring culprit of flooding your phone, or someone else, but you really didn’t want to find out. Unluckily, the flashing number on the phone’s display made you remember the horrible idea that hit you a bit earlier: how Prosciutto was, supposedly, on the possible pursuit of your darling, sweet fiance. The dreadful notion poisoned your mind, making it impossible to think of anything else as you tortured yourself with all the possibilities, all the scenarios where your beloved would be threatened, ruined, beaten or worse. All pictures of vivid realism, terrifying in their sharpness, as they drowned your mind, your eyes, your ears.

You felt like you were chocking on your anxiety, and your fingers trembled as you picked up the phone, now still and silent. You weren’t sure what to do, if calling your fiance would be any good, if you would simply hear Prosciutto’s voice greeting you with nonchalance as you heard your fiance pained wails and the crack of a whip, the click of a gun, the barking of dogs, any clue of the immense cruelty that could wreck your spirit just a bit further.

All too much, your mind floating in suspension again, but the vibrating motion of your phone anchored you to reality. Your fiance's number, flashing on the screen, making you cut your breath short. You felt lightheaded as you clicked the key and let the device near your ear, far away enough that the sound was more muffled and softer. You were ready to hear the derisive laugh of Prosciutto, taunting you about how foolish you were for thinking you could save him, but the soothing tone of your fiance reached you. You felt your muscles relax, and they trembled from the constricting tension taking hold of them.

“Thank God,” you couldn’t stop yourself from muttering those words, and your fiance suddenly stopped with what he was about to say, seemingly cautious. He asked if you were safe, if anything happened to let you sigh with relief so casually, and you shook your head before you could really think about the fact he couldn’t see you. You answered with the little voice you could still muster, but you forced yourself to speak more, to reassure him of your safety, “I just had a bad evening, that’s all. I’m happy to hear you.”

The chuckle coming from the other side of the speaker was gentle, yet coated in heavy defeat. He didn’t question anything you said, just making you notice how it was barely an hour, maybe something more, since you two saw each other outside your house. He was calling to let you know he was fine, everything was good, and your spent brain didn’t pick anything odd in his tone, no matter how you tried to activate the paranoid parts of your brain to detect anything suspicious. You were too relaxed, a pounding headache emerging from the tension snapping suddenly, and your body slumped over the pillow on your bed. An hour, he said. You must have been too focused on your misery to notice anything outside, not even your mother knocking to let you know dinner was ready or to ask if you needed the bathroom to shower.

You exchanged few words with your darling, as if nothing in your relationship changed at all, despite all the sorrow you noticed earlier in his gaze. You said your goodbyes, and then you were alone in the solitude of your room. Evening was settling, the sky was tinted in soft hues of spring and warmth, but you couldn’t find in yourself the strength to stand up to live the rest of the evening before bed time. So, you settled on sleeping earlier than usual. Your rest was hollow, as if it didn’t happen at all, and you were left confused the next morning.

Your routine was sluggish, that morning. Your mother was worried, peeking at you from the kitchen each time you attempted to stay alone in the living room or at the table, but you could understand she was concerned about your behavior from the day before. All you could offer, in the fog of your turmoil, was a polite smile directed at her. Barely a plaster over the gaping wound, but you had to think about other things, like how you could face your tormentors during your next visit at the house.

Them as your eyes drifted to the desk and to the headband resting on it, the idea that came to you during your car trip to return home flashed in your mind. Maybe your mistake could be twisted into the right light if you played your cards right, not even as dirty as they were doing. You spent the rest of the week preparing, the only moments of pause you conceded yourself were the short calls with your fiance or your friends, who insisted on complimenting you on the good scion of wealthy origins that was chanting your praises. It would be annoying if the notion of Melone talking to your group of friends didn’t keep you from approaching them anymore. But it fueled the feeling of needing to plant the seed of discord among those men who wanted to tear down your life, just to build over the ruins.

Eventually, the designed day came and you stepped outside your house for the first time in an entire week. You winced when you saw that the broken mirror and the scattered jewelry were still laying on the street, simply shoved to the side so that they wouldn’t cause any trouble to those who were passing. You closed yourself in your car and breathed deeply to regain the lost composure, calm your nerves before your exhibition.

The drive felt slower and shorter at the same time, as if the space and the time separating you from the was distorted in horrible ways, but you reached your destination. Your grip on the wheel was tight, and you were about to give up on the plan now that you could see the towering house looming over you. However, you swallowed the fear, and stepped to the door. There, you straightened yourself up, adjusted Formaggio’s shirt and Ghiaccio’s hair accessories, and then unlocked the entrance. The click of the key was loud, if only because you were hyper aware of everything around you.

Once you were inside, your eyes on the floor, you left your belongings at the usual spot. When you raised your head, Prosciutto was there, leaning on the kitchen’s door with pretend serenity. When he eyed you up and down, you gave him a civil smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and he narrowed his eyes at the motion. He turned around, separating from the wall, and headed up the stairs with visible disdain in his stance. You took a second to calm yourself after this first step, then walked towards the living room to check who was in there.

It seemed like only Formaggio and Illuso decided to hang out in the room, but both of them looked over when they perceived the movements at the door. Both their faces lightened up in a twisted happiness that felt like a punch in the guts, but you stomached it as well as you could. Formaggio raised his hand to wave at you, and you reciprocated the gesture, to his surprise. Then, Illuso motioned to do the same, but you turned your head before he could and went for the stairs. All you could hear behind you were the barks of laughs and the barely concealed murmuring of threats.

You exhaled shakily, and grabbed the rail so that you wouldn’t fall down as you climbed the stairs.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #prosciutto #formaggio #illuso #hello guys guess who's back with this and will upload it here too #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #long post

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radramblog · 3 years

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More Inevitable Hot Takes- MTG Announcement Day edition

I only have myself to blame for this one. I forgot this was upcoming, and I went and blathered about dumb preview cards from most of a month ago anyway. Well, now I’ve got to spend two posts in one week talking about Magic cards. Woe is me?

Once a year, WoTC has a big day where they announce, like, everything for the next year’s releases. And with the picking up speed of set releases, there’s a lot there, and thereby I have a lot to talk about.

To be clear, I’ve deliberately avoided Magic Twitter and Magic Reddit for these announcements. Tis a silly pair of places.

Standard Sets 2022

In order:

Kamigawa Neon Dynasty is very concerning, as one of the people who’s a genuine big fan of the original Kamigawa block. The thing is, I like Kamigawa, with it’s spirits and artwork and samurai and the like. I like cyberpunk, with the aesthetic and the themes and the music. I’m not sure I’m going to like the two combined. We better see some fucking weird-ass spirits, and I’ll only be slightly annoyed if they’re cyber-ghosts or whatnot as long as they maintain that bomb-ass art design.

We have a new plane and a set to go with it, which is cool and nice. Urban Fantasy is a thing Ravnica already did, to be honest, but if I had to guess, Streets of New Capenna is going to be a much more low-fantasy, noir-y take on the genre. I think I saw something about Azra returning, which is cool. That one on the key art looks…very Ob Nixilis-y, though.

And then we’re going back to Dominaria and actually doing The Brother’s War, again? I think Urza block was about that arc, though the Dominaria United set might be like, before all that nonsense. They might have given details, I wouldn’t have seen them, I’m going based on someone’s TL;DR. I’m excited to finally have a Mishra card that isn’t the Time Spiral one, though I’m concerned about how they’re going to make an Urza and a Mishra that are both powerful enough for the iconic characters but not so powerful as to be dominant in the Standard they’ll be legal in.

So, so much Universes Beyond

I think the four Warhammer 40k precon decks is kind of exactly what I was hoping we were going to get for that particular crossover. Just enough to get fans happy and make some fun new cards, not enough that there’s a ridiculous influx of Tyranids into Magic’s annals. I’d be interested to see what regular Magic cards translate well into these decks, seeing as they’ll have to be 40k-ified.

I feel similarly about the Baldur’s gate Commander draft set. I remember fans of that particular D&D spinoff were frustrated with the lack of representation in AFR (I think Minsk was like the only thing they got), so now they have a whole set to work with. Ultimately, D&D is now already, and interminably a part of Magic’s multiverse, and more from those particular realms isn’t going to make anything super fucky. Also, Commander Legends was cool as hell, and this is going to be another one of those, so that’s a plus.

And…a Lord of the Rings set? Like, a full set? I’m assuming whatever got them 40K also got them rights to tabletop LOTR, seeing as Games Workshop has run the LOTR tabletop game for a while. Like with D&D, the medium-high fantasy of LOTR crosses over pretty well into Magic, so I’m not worried about that kind of cockup making things Feel Weird. I’m a little confused about the legality of the set, though, seeing as it’s in Arena, but not Standard legal, but it is Modern legal? What and why and what about Pioneer or Historic?

Secret Lairs

Few hits, few misses, though I remember seeing spoilers from a few that aren’t on this list. Presumably, the Art Series: Johannes Voss, Thomas M. Baxa, and Purrfection and Math is for Blockers were announced separately? Anyway.

Hits: The Kamigawa Ink cards look drop-dead gorgeous, holy shit. Add in the fact that I already play two of those cards and that the others are all cards I like? Might have to get that one. Math is for Blockers is a fun lineup though I don’t…really get the theme? Both Artist Series look incredible, though I’m not huge on the card lineups.

Misses: PURRFECTION would be great if it wasn’t apparently a convention exclusive and also if the art of cats were on cat cards. It’s cute as fuck, but eh. The old-format walkers are frustrating, but I’m not as against them as a lot of people are- like they’re ugly, but not worth throwing a fucking fit over. I weep for any new player staring one of these down, especially if they barely understand planeswalkers in the first place and/or haven’t seen one of these particular ones before. Also, the art is kinda just ugly.

And then there’s the Universes Beyond ones. Fortnite and Street Fighter, both with new cards that will eventually have regular versions (which leads me to wonder if TWD will do the same). There’s a clear attempt here to hit the zoomers and the boomers in the community, though the former probably won’t have the money to afford the Secret Lair if they’re burning all their cash on V-Bucks. It’s…not a great look? Like I’m not opposed to cartoony art styles (the Goblins Kaboom SL looked great!) but Fortnite’s in particular looks like dogshit in my eyes and I’m not looking forward to seeing it in a Magic frame. Street Fighter I’m more excited for, because I like Street Fighter, and because they confirmed Chun-Li is going to have multikicker which is kind of perfect. Obviously we’re going to have to see the cards, but in one case I’m dreading that, and in the other I’m welcoming it.

Other Cards

We have more Challenger Decks, for Pioneer this time. The decklists are already out, and they look pretty solid! The Challenger Decks have been pretty cool previously, a really solid set of lists that only needed a bit of tweaking to be FNM-viable, but they were held back by the fact that they were often released not long before rotation. With Pioneer being a non-rotating format, this is going to be great for getting people into the format.

Another Double Masters set is…egh. It’s another thing that’s not for me, I can’t afford to whale on that shit. With shipping and conversion those packs end up ludicrously expensive in Perth, and I’m pretty sure I only got to play with one the first time. Also, this one is going to have all the collectable nonsense of 2020/21 Magic, which is going to be A Lot.

And another Jumpstart. Eh. Don’t cock the shipping on this one up and it’ll probably be okay.

Commander Collection Black is here, and the list is already out. The Green one ended up way overpriced, but at least in this case the cards are all super playable. Actually, they were for Green too, I think, but hey there’s a Deluge reprint and a flip Lilli, so. I kinda miss the Signature Spellbook series already, though.

Finally, Unfinity. Another Un-Set. Unstable was a fucking incredible set, both on a comedic level and as one of the sickest draft formats in a long time, so I’m excited to see that one followed up. On the other hand, Unsanctioned kind of landed with a dull thud. Apparently though, they got some of the folks from LRR (among others) to help write names and flavour text for this set, and I love those guys to death, so I can at least guarantee the comedy element will be present for this one.

Other stuff?

Well we have a date for the Netflix series. I have a hard time believing it’s actually happening. When I first started playing was around when rumours and announcements were still happening regarding a full-on movie, and that basically didn’t go anywhere. So it’s a little surprising to have a solid, actual time frame for Magic Story Content in Video Form. I haven’t kept with the story for a fair bit at this point (since Dominaria, tbh), so I’ve got no idea if it’s been any good, and as to whether this will be any good. Considering apparently Gideon’s in the lead, my hopes aren’t huge.

The only other thing is Pins. I like Pins. I have a bunch of them on my bag. I would like to get more Magic pins. So this is good.

And that, I think, is the sum total of it. These announcements always end up with a combination of excitement, trepidation, and dread, but I think this is leading more on the positive end of that spectrum. There’s still way too many fucking sets, but I think that is largely at Hasbro’s feet. The money machine must keep churning, after all. Maybe someday Magic and WoTC as a whole will be able to unshackle themselves from that particular constraint, but I am not holding my breath.

#ramble #mtg #hot takes

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mrsbhandari · 4 years

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Permafrost

a/n: hi!! ive recently gotten past my block a little bit so ive been able to write more. this is a sequel to Wilt, and i’ll be writing more for this short unplanned series soon!!

words: 1.3k

warnings: language, awkwardness

summary: he’s home for the holidays, and boy is it cold.

It was three in the afternoon when Ajay passed the sign reading “Welcome to Cedar Cove!”, and it was around 3:05 when he pulled into his parents’ driveway, looking the exact same from when he had last visited a few months ago. He hadn’t told anyone but his family about that last visit, but everyone was sure to find out about his current one. He was half excited and half dreading it. Before he got out, he heaved a sigh and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, steeling himself for the inevitability of having to face his friends who mostly decided to stay in Cedar Cove, and even the ones who didn’t still returning home for the holidays.

His suitcase was light in his hands, a testament to the fact that he always packed light. A small flashback to the London trip left as soon as it came, centered on a blonde ponytail and a bright smile. Fuck, it’s been a year and a half. Get over her, he scolded himself and sucked his teeth, choosing to focus instead on the faded yellows and dull oranges of the dead leaves lining the cement path to his door, adorned with a small note.

AT GOLDEN GRIDDLE. JOIN US WHEN YOU’RE SETTLED. YOU KNOW WHERE THE KEY IS! :)

Ajay let out a bitter laugh. Of course it’s the diner. Finding the key under the mat, he set to work getting inside and to his room, both pleased and uncomfortable at how untouched it was. Rather than immediately start unpacking, he dug around in the memories of what felt like his past life, full of pictures and gifts he couldn’t bear to bring with him when he went to New York. His side of the dorm room was bare, but he figured that it was better than filling every inch of his new life with his old one, featuring a girl who probably hated him. He sucked in a breath as that truth came to the front of his mind. Nope, definitely hates me.

The breakup had been sad but swift, since Ajay left the very next day. He never considered himself to be an asshole, but upon watching her weakly beat her fists against his chest as she sobbed against his shirt while he just stood there silently, taking it without a word, he knew that she was going to go home and cut up all the pictures of him that previously cluttered her walls. His legs felt weak as he walked over to his own relationship shrine, a collection of movie tickets, pictures, and notes shared between them that he had never gotten the chance to take down. A music box she gifted him gathered dust on his desk, so he blew it off and wound it up, allowing the light, tinkling notes to play as he placed his clothes back into empty drawers. It was 3:25 when he finished, grabbing his phone from his nightstand and shutting off the light to leave.

It had been months since he’d visited Cedar Cove, but as he drove down the streets he’d grown up on, it seemed that the only thing that changed was the leaves on the trees. The closer he drove to the diner, the more he felt the anticipation and hope that maybe...something else was different.

The parking lot was far more packed than he ever remembered it being, even when teenagers stormed the place after plays and football games. The spot he pulled into was facing the diner, and in the late afternoon sun, he sat in his car and watched the people sitting in the booths through the windows. He spotted his mom, Jim, and Mohit sitting in a booth, his little brother laughing loudly at something his stepfather said. Ajay glanced up and felt his breath catch in his throat.

She changed her work hairstyle, electing to have it in a messy braid that reached down her back. The uniforms had changed, too, now consisting of a simple checkerboard T-shirt rather than the previous solid red. Desperate to keep a low profile the last time he visited Cedar Cove, he refused to even pass by the diner; now he wanted to know everything he’d missed out on because of his pride. Everyone else in the diner was facing away from him, so he couldn’t pick out anyone that could possibly know him. Taking another deep breath, he turned off his car and made his way into the restaurant.

The bell over the door rang obnoxiously as he entered, signaling an arrival he wished to keep quiet. He kept his head down as he walked to wear his family was seated, but quickly looked up after everyone who was facing away from him turned around at once.

“SURPRISE!” a chorus of voices shouted, making him wince as his eyes traveled from face to face. His family was the first group of people to say hi, but they quickly went back to their seats to allow the onslaught of hellos from his friends, who gathered around him expectantly. Erin stepped forward and threw herself into a hug, swaying back and forth to prolong it.

“We missed you, stranger!” she said, laughing at the choir of agreement that erupted from his other friends. Clint and Graham held hands as they waved hello, indicating that Clint really did move on from Rory, who excitedly clasped hands with Ajay. Skye waved a small greeting from her seat at the breakfast bar, still dressed in the dark colors that he remembered her for. Casey called his name from the open kitchen, showing off his cooking skills by flipping a pancake while keeping a conversation up with him. He felt awkward with so much attention on him, but at the same time, he was upset that the one person he wanted to be close to and let ask him invasive questions was refusing to even get near him. Ajay was led to a booth where everyone crowded around him, questioning him about New York and his fancy film school, intent on squeezing every ounce of information out of him.

“Is everyone there super stylish? You’ve changed a lot from last Christmas, Ajay,” Erin prodded, referring to his outfit that didn’t seem to belong in southern Oregon. He laughed and took his jacket off, feeling hot under the inquisitive gazes of his previous classmates.

“I showed up to the first day and immediately felt out of place, so my roommate helped me out.”

“What’s your roommate like?!” Rory asked, leaning their head on their hands to listen.

“Oh, his name’s Nikael. He’s, uh, more into photography. But he’s really cool! You’d like him.”

“What’s the dating scene like?” Ajay’s head whipped to his right and he nearly fell out of the booth in his haste to stand, towering over Bailey as she looked up at him with a blank stare. The entire diner fell quiet, intent on watching what would happen between the two.

“I…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. He searched his mind for a response that wouldn’t lead her down the wrong path, but he couldn’t find one. “How’ve you been?”

“Avoiding the question? You don’t need to spare my feelings, Ajay.” She crossed her arms and gave him a cold smile that lasted a split second, but its effects lasted far longer. He struggled to respond when she turned away from him to call out to Casey, who was loading batter into a waffle iron. Ajay suddenly noticed that she had changed from her uniform into normal clothes that made his heart ache, wishing that he could say a word. Instead, all he could do was watch helplessly as she spoke to her brother. “I’m clocking out, Case!” She walked to the door and opened it, ignoring the bell that loudly rang in favor of sending him a glance over her shoulder.

“Bailey, I--”

“Welcome back, Ajay.”

#ajay x mc #ajay bhandari #hssca #hss #hssca ajay #high school story: class act #high school story

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nightashes · 4 years

Text

The Storm in the Music Room

A/N: My secret santa gift for the amazing @starsinger now formatted for tumblr!! I was so excited to share this! And now I’m so excited that it’s time for the reveal! Also, I think it’s hilarious that a Night was matched up with a Star.

Summary: Virgil Storm is violent protector, snarky rebel, and talented pianist? Logan is shocked to find the school's tough guy playing the piano.

Ao3 version - writing masterlist

The halls looked eerie in the low light. The usually harsh fluorescent light bulbs were only half-lit as Logan strode past the locked classrooms and silent stairwells. Debate club had ended an hour earlier but as treasurer, Logan had stayed behind with the other club officials, both of them seniors. And now Logan was heading to the Junior parking lot... alone. He was not concerned or nervous. Sure, the school seemed like a whole different world at night. But Logan knew that in actuality it was still the same building. Same floors. Same lockers. And the same… well everything. Just empty. Silent. And slightly darker. But really nothing to be concerned about. Nothing at all. Except. What was that?

A soft melody, lilting and sweet drifted from the music room. The room Logan just so happened to need to pass by before he could reach the parking lot. And really, what harm could be done from taking a peek inside? Passing by the small windows set in the doors, Logan slowed to a stop. Peering through the wired glass to see a student hunched over the piano. His hair was dark and long, hanging past his eyes as he bent his head over the keys. His fingers glided across the keys, long and slender. His lips were pursed and his eyes intent. And Logan was captivated. This solitary figure was unforgettable. The threadbare hoodie decorated with plaid purple patches. The smeared eye shadow beneath those intense hazel eyes. And the black stud earrings meant this could only be one person. Virgil Storm. Violent protector. Snarky rebel. And a talented pianist? Logan stared dumbfounded.

Virgil Storm. Logan had stumbled across Virgil Storm, the guy who egged a teacher’s car in his sophomore year for calling his friend a pathological liar. That Virgil Storm was playing the piano with all the gentleness and care one would give to a long forgotten but still beloved toy from one’s childhood. The dulcet tones filled the air with a feeling of longing and love and loss that thrummed through Logan’s soul. And Logan was rooted to the ground completely entranced by the way the notes wove a tapestry of a world that was finally remembered after being long forgotten. The keys dancing beneath his hands, the same hands that knocked a student out in his freshman year for bullying Remus Prince for eating glue. That Virgil Storm was now sighing as his hands slowed to a stop. A soft smile spread gently across his face as he laced his hands and stretched his arms up and back. His head falling back and arms releasing, falling softly to his sides. Logan was past speechless. Virgil Storm was the kid no one crossed. He was fiercely loyal and not afraid to break the rules to prove it. And now he was staring at Logan.

Oh crap. He was staring at Logan. Crap. Logan scrambled back from the door. His breath quickening as his heart raced. Virgil freaking Storm had caught him staring at a clearly personal moment. Logan was dead. The door swung open and Virgil broke through them silent and fierce. His eyes piercing and his lips turned down into a snarl. He stood there with his arms crossed as he studied Logan.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- “ Logan’s voice broke. He swallowed heavily trying to force his heart to calm. Logan started again. “I was merely walking to the Junior parking lot when I heard your music. My curiosity was raised as I could not fathom why there would be someone playing this late. And…” He trailed off as Virgil walked closer. His tall figure setting him in a position to glare down at Logan.

“You were staring.” Virgil stated simply.

“I was merely looking to see-”

“You. Were. Staring.” Virgil broke him off.

“Now, that is twisting-”

“Why?” Virgil leaned down to peer directly into Logan’s eyes. “Why. Were. You. Staring?”

“The music. It was- .” Logan stumbled to explain.

“The music?”

“Yes. Well, it was nice-”

“Nice?” Virgil questioned. Eyebrow raised incredulously.

“Yes. And I was quite shocked to discover you-”

“Me? What about me? What? Don’t think mean ol’ Virgil could play piano?’

“Yes. I mean no. I mean… If you would just stop interrupting me!” Logan nearly yelled as his frustration came close to bubbling over.

Virgil’s snarl grew at Logan’s shout. He arms uncrossing to shove Logan back. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t go spying on people like a creep!”

‘I wasn’t spying!”

“Yes! You Were!” Virgil quickly shouted back.

“I was just! Argh!” Logan screamed in frustration as he shifts his backpack higher onto his shoulder. Taking a large breath through his nose he started again. “I was just heading to the parking lot. So I’ll go now.” He turned before Virgil can respond. Speeding towards the entrance, expecting a biting remark to follow him. But as he reached the doors, there was only silence. Logan refused to look back as he exited the school. Just hoping that Virgil would ignore this whole catastrophe. If Logan made an enemy of Virgil Storm the rest of high school would be torture.

***

There were not many days throughout his life that Logan had dreaded going to school. Tests days were always stressful but manageable. The day he had gone to school without his favorite tie was unpleasant but nothing too difficult. All-in-all school had always been a relatively pleasant experience. He had always managed to avoid drawing the attention of bullies and he enjoyed the opportunity to learn and meet up with Patton. But today. Well, today was different. Logan did not want to go to school. At all. This had never happened. He was even considering skipping. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought. No. No matter what happened today, he was not going to let Virgil Storm ruin school for him. He would go and whatever happened would happen. And he would manage and it would be fine.

This was not fine. Logan had lunch and 7th period Intro to Business with Virgil. Theoretically, if Logan just kept his head down and did his best to avoid Virgil he could make it through the day relatively unscathed. Theoretically, this would work. Practically, 1st period hadn’t even started yet and Logan could feel Virgil’s stare boring holes into his back as he collected his books from his locker. Apparently, Damien Ethos’s locker was one classroom down from Logan’s. Apparently, Virgil hung out at Damien’s locker in the morning. And apparently, he was now using it as an opportunity to terrify Logan with looks alone. Logan was not prepared for this.

“Hey, Lo Lo! Ready for class?” Patton came bounding up to greet him, his hoodie sleeves swinging and his curls bouncing wildly.

“Frankly, Patton, first period could not start soon enough.” He punctuated his statement with a slam of his locker.

“Wait, Logan, is everything okay? Did something happen at debate club last night?” Patton questioned as he followed his friend, his hands tightly gripping onto his books.

Logan’s stride was wide and purposeful as he maneuvered through the lively hall. The cacophony of noise and movement was a stark contrast to the muted atmosphere of the school at night. No music drifted through the air, instead it was replaced by obnoxious jabbering and lockers slamming. And Patton fretting as he rushed to keep up, despite his shorter stature and Logan’s anxiety to get away from this hall and Virgil’s piercing gaze.

Logan scoffs as he slowly slides into a gap to join the group of packed bodies that was a cruel mockery of a line for the stairs. “Debate club was fine, Patton.”

“Well, than why the sour expression, Mr. Dour?”

Logan groans at the nickname. “Patton, please. I’m not in the mood. I…” He scans the stairs full of students clamoring around them, laughing and gossiping. The tightly packed bodies shuffling past each other. Logan felt positively suffocated. If any of them heard what happened, that Virgil Storm plays piano, it would spread like wildfire. Virgil would find out and know exactly who to blame. No. Logan couldn’t let that happen. “Not right now. Just wait and I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”

Escaping from the stairwell was a welcome relief. Logan breathing easily once again as he glided into German class. Patton following close behind, his dark brown doe eyes asking for information Logan was reluctant to give.

“Logan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” Logan stared around them. There were only three other students that took German III H with them. They had not arrived yet and the teacher was busy at her computer. “Patton don’t tell anyone this, but last night after Debate Club I saw Virgil Storm… he was in the music room playing the piano and it was… incredible. I… But he saw me and he thinks I was spying on him. Patton, I don’t know what I’m going to do. He’s furious with me. He was staring daggers at me just now at my locker. ” Logan whispered frantically to his best friend, hoping for a lifeline of some kind.

Patton tilted his head, biting his bottom lip in thought as he pondered over Logan’s statement. “Virgil wouldn’t hurt you, Logan. I’m sure he was just taken off guard.”

“Patton, this is Virgil Storm we’re talking about. He’s going to get me back,”

“He wouldn’t do that. Honestly, Logan, he’s not that bad. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.”

“Talk to him? What do you mean talk to him??”

“We’re Home Ec buddies! He’s actually really sweet. I’m sure if I explain everything he’ll understand.”

“No. Patton, you can’t-” Logan cuts off as Amanda walks in. Waving over to Logan and Patton before settling into the seat across from them. “Patton, please…” Logan practically begs.

“Logan, I don’t want my friends mad at each other. Don’t worry, I know what to say.” Patton settles back confidently. Switching over to greet their classmate.

Logan didn’t know what to say. Patton was his best friend. He should trust him. But this is Virgil Storm he’s talking about. This isn’t someone you just talk to. Logan tried that and it ended with him turning tail and sprinting out of there. Patton may be well meaning but if Logan couldn’t explain it to him, how could Patton? And if Virgil misinterpreted Patton’s intentions it could make the entire situation worse. Logan’s heart beat thunderously against his ribs. He drummed his fingers against his desk. Breathing deeply in and out as he thought through possible solutions. Despite the reasoning behind it being an absolutely dreadful idea, there was a part of Logan that trusted Patton. He cared for his friend and his friend cared for everybody. So Logan bit his tongue. He would let Patton speak on his behalf. If anyone could assuage the anger of Virgil Storm, it would be Patton.

***

In Logan’s opinion, lunch arrived entirely too soon. Not that Logan was worried. He wasn’t. After all, he trusted Patton. And yes, he hadn’t seen Patton since 1st period and knew nothing of the situation he was heading into, but that hardly mattered. He was treasurer of the debate club. He was no fool. He knew how to handle himself. He had prepared talking points. And sure, they may be mostly anecdotal and lacking any real evidence. But he had faced worse odds.

Paying for his meal, Logan turned towards the sea of tables. The bustling students filling the lunch room with a cacophony of sounds that did nothing to soothe his taut nerves. Logan set his shoulders back, his chin held high. A pose of confidence and authority. He was in control. He strode across the linoleum floors, weaving through the buzzing hive of students, straight towards Logan and Patton’s favorite table. It was the one closest to the front doors leading out into the halls. The same hallway that led directly to the music room. The same hallway that Logan had walked down to come across Virgil Storm, school tough guy and secret musician. What had his life become?

Setting down his styrofoam lunch tray, Logan settled down at his table. Watching the lunch room for any sign of his friend or his enemy. He did certainly did not expect to see them together. Patton holding his tray in one hand and Virgil’s hand in his other. Pulling him gently over to where Logan currently sat, have a complete mental breakdown. Virgil’s jaw was set, annoyance was written across his face. He was staring straight at Logan as he allowed Patton to lead him towards their table. This was it. The moment of truth. Logan fiddled with his note cards, practicing his speech over and over in his head.

“Logan! I talked to him!” Patton practically sung as he came to a stop at their table. Plomping himself down into the chair directly beside Logan. He pulled out the one to his left and demanded of Virgil to “Sit.”

Virgil slumped into his chair. Releasing Patton’s hand and his own tray to stuff his fists into his pockets. Shrugging his shoulders as if to disappear from sight. A strange occurrence considering this was the student who was unafraid to talk back to teachers as he saw fit. Logan was confused to say the least. And Patton only made his confusion grow when he turned to Virgil and casually said, “Now tell him your sorry.”

Logan’s jaw was close to dropping when Virgil's clear annoyance dropped away to be replaced with guilt. “Pat.”

“Don’t you Pat me. We talked about this. Logan is my friend.”

Virgil’s heavy sigh of resignation did nothing to prepare Logan for what came next. The dark and stormy rebel looked him straight in the eyes and with more sincerity than Logan would have ever expected from a forced apology (Logan’s siblings always managed to turn them sarcastic) he spoke. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled and shoved you yesterday. I was uncomfortable with the idea that you had been watching me and I might have overreacted a bit. So sorry.”

Patton turned to him, an expectant smile on his face.

“I’m… Thank you for saying that Virgil. And… I know I came off as you say ‘a creep’ but that was not my intention. In reality, I was quite entranced by your talent at the piano.”

Holy crap. Virgil Storm was blushing. This could not be happening.

“Is the sob fest over now? Can we sit down?” A smooth voice spoke from directly behind them. Causing Logan to jump in surprise as Virgil’s entire group of friends settled down at their table.

Virgil Storm’s friends were sitting at Logan and Patton’s table. Did this make him Virgil’s friend? No way. Then again Roman and Remus Prince were now needling Virgil about his blush, while Damien Ethos watched on in clear amusement. In a way, It felt like they had always been there.

“So, everybody, when’s the next band practice? I’ve been practicing really hard.”

“Obviously Sunday, Patton.”

“Oh... I don’t think I can do Sunday.”

“Stop it, Damien, you know he always takes you seriously. It’s Thursday again. Not Sunday.” Roman assured Patton, who perked up immediately at the news.

“Wait a sec. Since when are you in a band?” Logan asked incredulously.

“Oh, not too long. Three? Four weeks? I would have told you, Lo. But Virgil’s a bit shy about it and asked me to keep it quiet. You’re not mad?’

“No… I was just shocked. I never would have pictured you in a band. I didn’t even know you knew how to play an instrument.”

“Well, I didn’t but Roman’s teaching me the drums. I’m not very good.”

“Yes. It’s truly awful that you aren’t a skilled musician after only spending three weeks learning an instrument.”

“Ow ” Damien recoiled after Roman slugged him in the shoulder.

“What did I just say, Damien! You’re doing great Patton. You’re picking it up really fast.”

“Thanks, guys. It’s really fun, Logan. Maybe you can join? We play Jazz!”

“You’re a Jazz band??”

“I play the Saxophone.” Remus somehow was able to say the word suggestively. His eyebrows wiggling playfully.

“Oh, well…”

“You should. It’d be cool if you could join.” Virgil nonchalantly added. His gaze searching Logan’s face. Causing a flush to spread across his cheeks.

“Okay.” He breathlessly replied.

Virgil smiles at him and Logan wasn’t sure what to say. He was going to be in a band with Virgil Storm and he was ecstatic.

By Logan’s calculation, joining the Jazz band was the best decision he could have ever made. And sure, he had initially wanted to play the cello, an instrument worthy of his intellect. But the long rehearsals with Virgil had ended with clasped hands, stolen breaths, and a soft melody that carried them across the expansive world of knowledge and beauty. Logan was pleasantly surprised to discover Virgil’s quick wit. And though he had never managed to persuade his love to join the debate club, Virgil was there at every event to cheer Logan on. Logan often fondly reminisces about Virgil’s first appearance at an event, remembering the aghast expressions of his fellow debaters when Virgil freaking Storm marched straight up to Logan and enveloped him in a hug and a celebratory kiss. Their band was not the best by any means but Logan cherishes every memory and every moment. Even today, as he straightens his bow tie and fiddles with his note cards, he can’t help but be thankful that on that day while passing through the hall, he had stopped to see the storm in the music room.

awesome people to tag: @stop-it-anxiety @rainboots-are-for-snobs @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree

#sanders sides #sander sides #my writing #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #fanfic #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction

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sugarfreecapsicle · 4 years

Text

i saw the light

moodboard by the incomparable @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

moodboard by the lovely @sebashtiansatan

A/N: first of all, big congrats to @marquiswrites on her milestone! She’s a wonderful and creative writer who deserves every ounce of recognition she can be given. I’m thrilled for her and even more honored to be able to participate in this challenge for her. second of all, thanks for putting up with my crazy and this series - here’s hoping I can somehow keep this going!

warnings: religious ceremony (christian), mentions of deity, prayer, hymns, ANGST

pairing: bucky x reader, southern usa au

country mile masterlist

Molten dread seeps from your chest to your toes and piles, feet to knees. Hallowed ground, from both childhood memories and divine merit shackle you to the gravel. Weathered steps precede the equally aged white doors. Music hums from the other side, choir warming up, some attendees mingling and chatting about their week prior to the balmy Sunday morning.

“Well, look at you!” You pivot and grin at the decades-old Buick Sam assists his mother out of - this morning her suit matches the car in alabaster white, accented by a pink ribbon tied on her hat and a coordinating purse. Sam loops her arm in his, grinning proud. The Wilsons, in your experience, mirror the same smile: bright, joyful, genuine.

“Look at you!” A laugh as you tuck some hair behind your ear. Mrs. Wilson hobbles along by a patient Sam to meet you where you stand. “You look so pretty today, Mrs. Wilson. You tryin’ to impress somebody?”

She laughs heartily and swats at you with her well loved leather Bible. “Honey, I’m just here to make sure Jesus knows I’m tryin’ to behave myself and keep Sammy in line.”

“Mama, you know I don’t make trouble,” Sam retorts, feigning some minor offense. Of course his mother pays him no mind.

“It sure finds you easy, son,” she murmurs and jabs his side with her elbow. “Let’s get in there before the reverend thinks I’m not comin’ today.”

Another common quality in the Wilsons: they quietly sneak through your safeguards and guide you in the right direction. You flank the elderly woman and find solace in the whine of the stairs underfoot. Power in faith, Mrs. Wilson would’ve called it had she known your entrapment in the parking lot.

The three of you make it up the stairs carefully, balancing Sam’s mother between as her knees aren’t what they used to be. The comfort of her habit to sit on the right, in the third pew from the front where she can feel the sun beam through the stained glass depiction of Jesus in the garden of Gesthemane settles in your chest.

Before you can scurry away to one of the back pews, she gently pats the seat to her left with a coy grin. “You always have a place with my family, baby.”

So you sit and feel a bit more prim as the townsfolk make their way in, Coulson mingling with the present congregation. In the seersucker suit and tie, a small cross pinned to his lapel, a cracked and worn leather Bible in his hand that now wore a golden wedding band. Light gleams off it from the hanging metal-work lights so out of date you marveled at their resilience.

Even the pillars in the church are the same - a fresh coat of white paint to match the exterior, stained glass windows depicting the life of Christ only a little dirty from recent rain, low pile green carpet from the door at the back up into the choir loft.

“Good to see you this morning,” Coulson greets jovially, hand extended to you for an always firm shake. He passes onto Mrs. Wilson and Sam quickly who both answer him with pearly white smiles. You grin, a knot in your chest. “It’s been a long while since you’ve been in town - we’ve missed having you here.”

“It’s..” you clear your throat and hold a hand to your chest, still politely grinning, “it’s good to be back, Reverend.”

Coulson nods, hands folded over the Bible in front of him as he chats with the Wilsons about the restaurant, the family band and if Sam wouldn’t mind helping tune the guitar this morning when you notice a barely put together attendee enter from the side door.

“Well if it ain’t the Barnes boy,” Mrs. Wilson mutters in your ear. Coulson quietly shifts along to the far aisle and walks to meet with more of the flock.

Bucky smiles and nods with one of the deacons, hands clasped between them in welcoming. As expected, the young farmer traded in his plaid shirt and red dirt mottled denim for black chinos and a clean tattersall button down. Tucked in, of course, similar to the small knot of hair just above the collar of his shirt.

He moves to the left side of the pulpit and makes himself comfortable at the piano. Since when had this developed? The Bucky you remembered couldn’t sit still long enough for anything like a piano lesson. For all the nostalgia, parts of this little world shifted out of place, a memory disjointed.

Steve appears in your periphery looking spick-and-span as ever with Peggy not far behind in a pretty blue pencil dress. Both greet you warmly with hugs and jump into the conversation as your now full pew inventories the goings on ahead of you.

“Bucky’s been playing for a few months now. It’s the only way we could get him to show up anymore,” Steve answers your unasked question. Apparently you’d been caught ogling.

Your Bucky - if you could even call him that anymore - loved being social at church. He could do without the sermon and the singing, but the congregational greetings just after the reverend’s first song fit into his heart lock and key. He beamed, shaking hands with anyone he could reach, even crossing the aisle to visit with as many as he could. Age never mattered to him then - he’d shake hands as heartily with an elder as a baby.

This new Bucky fusses with his sleeves at the piano bench alone. Not frowning, but not smiling.

“Y’all are comin’ by for supper after the service today?” Mrs. Wilson leans over to address both Steve and Peggy, expectant eyes and a nodding head.

“You couldn’t pay me to be anywhere else but your kitchen, ma’am,” Steve answers kindly, giving Peggy’s manicured hand a squeeze. Another new development. Warmth radiated from the couple, a new love realized.

“Well, good,” the elderly woman settles back and gathers her Bible and sermon outline in her lap. “Lord knows I need an army to eat all the food I make.”

You sense the roll of Sam’s eyes - always a few steps behind his mother’s innocent manipulation. The din of the room swells briefly, and Reverend Coulson makes his way up the steps to his matching white podium. A full congregation, choir in attendance, musicians tuned. And an eager preacher with the Good Word for his flock.

“Good morning,” Coulson calls into the microphone.

Your religion hadn’t survived your departure from town either, but the enthusiasm of the room was contagious. The music starts, and you find your gaze drifting to the piano as you sing. Sleepy blue eyes meet yours in the moment before a blink, then they’re gone, reading the sheet music in front of him. Probably just his eyes finding a place to rest as he plays, a subconscious thing, not intentional in the least.

The muscle memory of the opening prayer followed by a short hymn - I Saw the Light sung by the reverend himself - and then choral worship awakens a dormant longing in your bones. Routine, peace, an odd juxtaposition to your inner turmoil.

Coulson opens his Bible at the song’s end with echoing applause, resting it against his little wooden podium. He has more crows’ feet now, but the smile is all the same.

“Isn’t it a wonderful day the Lord has made for us?”

Amen’s scatter around the chapel, and suddenly you realize you’re without a Bible and a small copy of the outline for the sermon. Might as well be considered naked and foolish in the church. Without prompting from you, Steve passes you a heavy and scribbled old copy of the Word, with him since high school. Peggy follows suit and shares her Scripture with him and sets the outline nearby.

A note on the edges of his outline reads: He stares at you every time you look away.

It’s heavy in your lap, a foreign and old thing, while a shiver pricks at the back of your neck. The feeling of being watched. You dare not look away from Coulson as he emphatically tells the story of Jesus’ miracle of feeding five thousand people with only five loaves and two fish. God provides for us in the same way, he says, creating blessings out of what some would consider table scraps.

“The Lord abides and he provides!” Coulson laughs heartily and the congregation returns his excitement.

He casts his usual glance at the clock - he’s ready for lunch, ready to wrap up his sermon. One more song to call those who feel compelled to kneel at the altar or prayer benches to entreat God’s mercy - Bucky and the Wilsons play Softly and Tenderly in slowed tempo.

Coulson steps down from the pulpit to the altars and benches, offering to pray with some of those who appear moved to tears, a few weeping as if to mourn a death. He places a hand at their backs, each and every one in their own turn, and murmurs quiet prayers, beseeching God’s intervention to those families.

Your heart twists in your chest, a rag being wrung out of its heavy laden burden of moisture. Fingers grip the Old Book in your hands just along the edges. Steve doesn’t notice. Your lips work between teeth carefully when you brave a glance to the piano.

Bucky - eyes watery and tender - stares at you like you’re breaking his heart. The song ends, prayers complete, and Coulson dismisses the congregation to flood the parking lot. Sam offers you a ride to his mother’s house, and you accept in a voice distant and foreign.

The little yellow house teems with friends and family alike, and you manage to weave a path to the living room’s sofa. Faint magnolia wafts about once you plop down, memories of nights spent whispering and giggling in pillow forts made from the cushions bubbling into mind. Then it’s all cheers when the first round of biscuits emerge from the oven.

Steve and Peggy find you soon after and try to maneuver the bottled hallway to get a plate for themselves, portioned by either the matron of the family or her ever faithful son. The process runs like her diner with servings then seating then conversation over a home cooked meal.

Your table with the new couple allows for one more, and you expect the seat to remain empty until Sam manages to make a plate of his own.

And then Bucky finds his way over and sits unceremoniously next to you, arms brushing against each other and flinching away as quickly. Steve says hello to his friend who responds with a shoveled bite into his mouth and a nod.

Some things clearly remain the same.

Sunday lunch continues like this, bumping elbows and hands with Bucky more often than either of you would prefer. Peggy tries her best to keep your attention; Steve and Bucky share clipped sentences and have their own implied conversation. With only his green beans and some gravy left on his plate, Bucky uses the napkin draped over his knee and moves to depart.

“You need a ride home?”

The trio wear expectant looks you don’t notice until you look up from your own scant plate. Your cheeks warm under the awkward silence, you quickly wipe away any remnant of food from your lips and mumble out your acceptance.

A flurry of goodbyes, and then it’s just you and Bucky in his truck thundering down the road to your house. He’s quiet, hand resting over his mouth while the other minds the steering wheel.

“What was up with your staring this morning at the service?”

The engine roars in the tension between you.

“What staring?”

Lazy mid-afternoon air tangles your hair. Your jaw sets tightly.

“The staring at me, Barnes.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffs, hand scratching against his unshaven cheek. “Good to know you left all this to go get yourself an ego, though, that’s good for you.”

Subconsciously your right foot shifts left in the dirtied floorboard to pump an invisible brake pedal. The truck pushes onward.

“An ego?” Raised voice and adrenaline. “Bucky, if someone told you a snake bit your ass, you’d say it was a damn bee even if you saw the thing slither under your feet.”

Your pushing against the floorboard suddenly pays off when Bucky diverts the truck to the side of the road and squeals to a stop. After shutting the engine off, he angles toward you, thin blue against wide black pupils.

“What’d’ya want me to say? D’you want me to roll out some red carpet for you because the princess returned?” Veins in his neck emerge under sun-tanned skin that fades paler by the white collar of his undershirt. Your throat dries when his silver chain catches sunlight. “You were just gone one day. No goodbye, no nothing. Just gone. You didn’t give a shit about any of us, how we’d feel.”

How I’d feel remains unspoken.

“When have you ever known me to live my life for other people, Bucky?”

The silence of Bucky’s heart plummeting through the undercarriage carries on as a coin in a well. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and for a moment, you regret your reply.

“Sorry I thought my feelings mattered to you.”

And what can you say to that? The finality in his own answer keeps your lips shut for the remainder of your ride home. An apology hangs in your throat, in your heart, but finds nowhere to surface. Too little too late.

You don’t even say goodbye when you exit his truck and shut the door behind you. Neither does he.

#marquiswrites100challenge #my fic #country mile #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader

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mayascherub · 4 years

Text

THE DINNER

WARNINGS: mostly angsty, but a littleeee 18+ :)

thanks too: @openheart12 @junggoku @sekizincimektup

*btw sry if there are any grammar mistakes etc. englsih is not my first language!*

-----

Ethan had planned his day thoroughly, knowing the time he got off the job, planning to go to Whole Foods, already had made a shopping list, so he didn't have to spend too much time in the public. Of course dreading the fact, that he always ran into several of his colleagues and interns.

He enjoyed planning, and enjoyed that Naveen had suggested that they ate dinner together once a week. It felt nice, catching up on their personal lives, instead of discussing cases like they always did. Today it was Ethan’s turn to cook.

7:01 pm.

Exactly 59 minutes before i have to leave Ethan thought, looking up from his silver watch as he was strolling down the halls of Edenbrook. He passed many doctors, brilliant doctors who all admired him. All doctors wanting to stand out, be the first to diagnose a patient, fill the chart with the most correct information - all for nothing.

Ethan already knew which doctor’s work he was most indulged in. Hers. Dr. Valentine. Casey.

She had wrecked his life, whirled his heart like an uncontrollable tornado - in an insufferable addicting way. Ethan have had girlfriends in the past, but no one like Casey. No one made him feel the way he felt, when he saw Casey’s eyes sparkle with joy at him.

The warmth from her body he was addicted to feel, when she showed him a patient’s chart. Having to clench his jaw, not to embrace her. To feel her.

“Why do you have that smirk plastered on?” Casey playfully said, when Ethan passed by her in the hall.

“I-” He looked at her, almost scared that she had read his mind. “I just-”

“Did you yell at an intern? I know it makes you happy to crash dreams” she took a step towards him, crossing her arms and smiling mischievously.

“Very funny, Rookie” he said, trying not to stare at her “I am having dinner with Navee-” he stopped himself, as he noticed the other doctors around them. “..with Dr. Banerji. In less than an hour”

“Oooh. That sounds nice” she took a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess he will be the one cooking?”

“No, today is my day.. so far he is the only one who have cooked, so i-” he stopped himself as he noticed Casey giggling. “What is so funny, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s just.. you cooking?” she bursted out laughing “I mean.. no offense”

“It is kinda hard not to.. you are insulting my cooking skills immensely” a small smirk creeped on his lips. “I guess.. i never considered it”

“Well it’s your lucky day, Dr. Ramsey” she put her hands behind her back “i am very good at cooking, and i’ll get off in and hour as well” Ethan considered her words.

“Meet me in the parking lot at 8:15 sharp” he continued his walk, looking back to see a huge grin on her face.

-------------------------------

Casey had to stay in the car while Ethan went shopping, since they surely would run into fellow Edenbrook doctors. And they would start all sorts of rumours.

Ethan usually wouldn’t care, but he knew Casey did.

She didn't deserve to be so hard-working, only for people to think she slept with her boss to earn her place on the diagnostics team.

The drive was surprisingly awkward. Just an hour ago they communicated like school girls, now it just felt too real.

She was going to his apartment for the first time in more than 2 months. When he left Boston and went to the Amazon he promised himself to let her go.

To let go of his feelings for her, and never set a foot into her apartment, or let her into his again. But here they are. In front of his place, ready to ruin his promises to himself.

Ethan pulled his key out, only to notice that his door was already open. “What..”

“Has there been a robbery?” Casey said, looking worried at Ethan. Only for the song “Afterglow” being played from his living room, inside.“Taylor Swift? What is happeni-”

“Naveen” Ethan shook his head, but clearly delighted by his mentor. “He has a spare key” Casey looked stunned at him.

“Well i know that! But.. NAVEEN IS A TAYLOR SWIFT STAN?” Ethan chuckled at her comment.

“I am.. so mind blown right now.. an old doctor.. listens to- oh god. I am so happy i decided to come tonight”

Ethan opened the door, and quickly put the bags of groceries in the kitchen, where he met Naveen, sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. Humming silently to the lyrics of the song.

“Good to see you, son. I am.. er.. very excited for dinner” Naveen said plaufully, clearly making a joke about Ethan’s cooking abilities. Am i really that bad? Ethan thought, but before he could answer, Casey walked up behind him.

“And now you should be even more. I was assigned to help Ethan” She patted Ethan friendly on his shoulder, letting a huge grin out. Naveen looked surprised at her arrival, yet happy to see her.

“What a lovely surprise, Casey!” Naveen took a long pleasant stare at her, and then at Ethan.

“What is it?” Ethan said, knowing Naveen had his mind on something.

“Well i am just surprised the two of you are dating without telling me first” Naveen scooped down from the stool, and went to the livingroom to turn off the Taylor Swift music and returned to them, finding them glaring at him uncomfortably. Casey had retreated her hand from Ethan’s shoulder, standing frozen.

“Ah kids, that was simply a joke” he laughed loudly, holding a hand on his stomach.

“You should see your faces!” He started unpacking the grocery bags.

“I- Naveen?” Ethan turned around to Naveen, a bright red color spreading on his cheeks.

“Ahem. Well, should we all cook together?” he said, looking shyly at Casey, who clearly still were stunned by Naveen’s comment.

“Yes. Yes I uh- yes. Dr. Ra- Eth- uh.. yes” Casey stumbled on her sentence, although it filled Ethan’s stomach with butterflies, pleased with her equal feelings for him. They both felt like little school children, getting caught by their teacher.

They all started cutting out veggies and meat, as Naveen and Casey tried to learn Ethan how to roast chicken properly - ending in Casey taking over, leaving the men to set up the table.

“You know” Naveen said in a low voice to Ethan, so Casey couldn't hear him “It wasn’t all a joke”

Ethan almost tripped, as he was holding three plates. He quickly balanced himself again, his face turning red again.

“It would be.. inappropriate. And unprofessional”

“So you’ve thought about it, boy?” Naveen smiled brightly, tilting his head to one side.

“I- no i- it was simply a fact, Naveen. You-” Naveen shook his head while maintaining the smile.

“I’ve never met a person who makes you speechless” he said as he returned to check on Casey.

-------------------------

After dinner Naveen left, giving Ethan an obvious wink as he was hugging Casey.

“You kids take care” he said, closing the front door behind him. Leaving Casey and Ethan alone together in Ethan’s apartment.

They looked at each other, as they both knew they shared a longingly feeling for them to connect again. Them both knowing they couldn’t, their eyes turning somber in sync.

Ethan cleared his throat.

“Are your friends waiting for you?”

“Yeah, i should probably..”

“Of course” Ethan took her jacket of the hanger, handing it too her, only stopping in mid-air. “Wait you can’t go.. you can’t go home alone.. it's dangerous. And i can’t drive you, i had too many glasses of wine, and-”

“Uber? I can just call an Uber”

“No. You can’t trust them” he said, trying to look sincere.’You can’t trust them?’ What are you, a conspiracy theorist? He thought, annoyed by his own comment. “You can borrow my car.. or” he leaned against the wall, looking at her with great insecurity. “You can.. stay here for the night”

It felt like the whole world gone silent - two adults clearly having feelings for eachother, both trying to restrict themselves - and then she broke the silence.

“I would love to” Casey said, eyes smiling as she looked up at him. “And anyways, i would definitely dent your car. I am a terrible driver”

“Oh, i know” he said, smirking as she walked by him from the foyer to the living room.

She stopped, and turned around to face him.

“So do you have any extra blankets or something?” Ethan almost didn’t hear her words, still being in a trance after her decision. “Ethan? Hellooo?”

“Oh, yeah of course.. but” he scratched the back of his head. “I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take my bed”

Casey protested, but Ethan convinced her that he usually would fall asleep on the couch with a book - so he was used to it. He showed her the bedroom, both of them pretending that she never had seen it before. She gestured to his closet.

“Do you have any pj’s or old t-shirts or something i can borrow?”

“Yeah” he opened a drawer, and gave her a green t-shirt that said “World's finest doctor” written in pink.

Casey bursted out laughing.

“Well, well, well Dr. Ramsey” she took the shirt and held it up to him. “Why have i never seen you wearing this?”

Ethan smiled, enjoyed how much she enjoyed this moment. “It was a gift from Ines.. dont.. mention this to anyone.”

Casey hugged the fabric, and went into the bathroom to change. She came out, the t-shirt reaching just her upper thigh, exposing a very little amount of her bottom. But for Ethan, it was just enough. He quickly looked away, and crossed his legs to hide his body’s response to her outfit.

“Very well.. i’ll go to bed now” he said, trying really hard to think about anything else but his desire to share the bed with her.

“Okay, goodnight” she said, well-knowing of the look in his eyes.

--------------------------

And there he was. Laying on the uncomfortable couch, both regretting his choices for letting her stay - and dreading the fact that he didn’t go further.

That night he didn’t sleep. His mind was full. And to his own annoyance, jealous of his shirt for being so close with her. Absorbing her smell.

Of course he was planning to wash it the next day. Of course! But could he really get himself to do it?

He knew that they had crossed a boundary. But now.. They could never go back. We will make it work. And he knew they would. Because his eagerness for her presence would only grow stronger.

#ethanramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan ramsey #drethanramsey #ethan x mc #ethan x reader #open heart #oh #choices oh2 #pixelberry

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inikavulpixelreviews · 4 years

Text

Let’s Talk About Pokemon - Toxel and Toxtricity

848: Toxel

Mmmmmm. I don't remember if I've ever said it in this review series, but I have a really bad repulsion to babies. Toxel isn't exactly being an exception here. Combination of the baby fat in the cheeks and lips and dumb little oversized head and its tongue and its bald-looking lightly misshapen head and AUGH. No sirree, Toxel had a snowball's chance in hell for falling into my good graces just from being so heavily baby-based alone.

It doesn't help that it has a diaper and... oh no... is that why it's Poison type? Please don't tell me that's why it's Poison type. Oh god I dreaded what this thing might turn into when it evolved, and I probably only would've evolved it because my own sister was insistent I keep this horrible little slime goblin around to see what it turns into.

Maybe, just MAYBE I'm being a little too harsh on Toxel, maybe not any of its features are inherently bad but that's just too bad for me I guess. I just had to be a kid in the 90s when a cartoon that was big at the time just happened to air an episode that highlighted all the gross things about babies all at once in a nightmarish context that gave me a goddang phobia of the friggin things as a child. While I don’t really have a crippling fear of them anymore I sure as hell don’t wanna go near one if I can help it. Maybe I'd be writing a very different review right now if a show like that didn't ruin babies forever for me but I guess we'll just never know. And I can’t say I’d ever be very affectionate to a Pokemon that instantly made me think of a scene that scared the ever-loving shit out of me as a kid thank you very much.

...Other than... ALL that... Toxel doesn't have anything going for it anyways. Poison/Electric is a neat typing that was feeling like it was going to waste because it's just some purple thing with a spark of electricity glued to its forehead I guess because they didn't think it looked “Electric” enough. I don't even like the grumpy face cause it's still very babyish. At least in this context... plant these grumpy eyes on literally anything else and I'd probably be all for it but euch. EUCH. The only advantage it really has going is that it’s fairly non-descript as an animal so it looks fairly solidly just-a-monster in a Gen 1 sorta way. But other than that...

Personal Score: 2/10

849: Toxtricity

...How the hell did one of my new least favorite Pokemon of all time suddenly become my top favorite in all of Galar???? Well, whatever. Be careful who you call ugly in preschool, I guess.

Gamefreak must've known they had a hit on their hands with this one, I'm surprised it was a Pokemon they kept secret until the game came out given how much it's skyrocketed into popularity (Striking number 2 in Gen 8 in the Pokemon of the Year polls, only just behind Galar's pseudo legendary). It's definitely at least pushed like one of the flagship Pokemon of Galar, with statues dedicated to it and its own G-Max form that they felt the need to keep further under wraps until very recently, only teasing its appearance as a hill figure. You're even handed a free Toxel at the Daycare. Frankly I'm alarmed no major character even has one on their team!

But this design in general totally is one of the stars of the show in Gen 8. While it definitely lifts aspects of salamanders and other amphibians into its design, it feels a lot like the classic “just a monster” type design from Pokemon's early days. The way they anthropomorphize it is neat too. It has an overall comical body structure with a long neck, lanky long arms and amusingly tiny legs.

Its face is also great. The tired, dreary eyes are cool and it thankfully turned that badly implemented bolt feature from Toxel into a full on electric mohawk! The head spikes are also neat, especially at the angle it holds its head back in its default pose ingame, it sorta evokes the look of the head of an electric guitar.

And that right there's the whole aesthetic of Toxtricity, of course! They're punk rockers! All covered in spikes and everything, even right down to having spiked belt. The little wart-like bulges on its chest are also doubling as guitar strings! There's plenty animations where it strums them to rock out, mohawk lighting up and everything. It strums these warts to generate electricity and make a ton of noise while it does so. That's such a cool way to incorporate an object into a naturalistic element on an animal. I like my objectmon and monsters with on the nose object motifs quite a bit myself, but it's cool that Toxtricity managed to fit an element as specific as an electric guitar's strings into an animal that would normally have no business having such an element but it just works.

And I can understand not everybody digs that color scheme; fairly bright purple and yellow is brave, to say the least, but I'd say it works! Even if I'm oddly enough, kind of a fan of color schemes other people might consider garish, you could say it just works because Toxtricity as a punk rocker is all about tearing down the norms, man. It also helps to make it look far more lively than its more mellowed out cousin.

Which, by the way, Toxtricity has a form gimmick too. A pretty unique one at that, and now that they've had it happen I'm surprised it's only happened just now, but what form your Toxel becomes depends on what Nature it is. The more excitable, energetic sounding natures will become the Amped form above, while the more chill or relaxed sounding natures will become the “Low Key” form.

At first, you'd wonder what that has to do with punk rock and why Toxtricity out of all the band-themed Pokemon we've already had up to this point, but a closer inspection highlights that Low Key is more of a bass as opposed to Amped as a guitar. They even have bumps mirroring their respective instruments! Amped has six just like an electric guitar has six strings, while Low Key has four, just like an electric bass has four strings! Low Key even seems to have a slightly longer neck than Amped form does, again, just like how basses have longer necks compared to guitars! It really is so much fun how much mileage they're getting out of the visual theming here. It’s really cool how we got a Pokemon that imitates an inanimate object in a way that’s totally organic and natural-looking way.

To tie all the theming up in a nice bow, they have a unique ability called Punk Rock, which increases the damage their sound-based moves do while halving the damage they take from the same kind of moves. Given that there's some Pokemon that are outright deaf with the ability Soundproof, it's easy to assume that Toxtricity unfortunately suffers from hearing loss. They can still hear, just not as well. Indeed, right under natural aging, the number 2 cause of hearing loss is listening to music too loudly. Much like punks are one to do. Turn down your music, kids!

That said, if I had to pick just one, I'd easily pick Amped just because it generally looks cooler and has a bolder color scheme. The only thing I'm less than sure on for these two is their “tails”... which rather than being tails are now just stiff extra-large spikes jutting out of their butt. And since I used a Toxtricity on my team, thus was looking at the backside of one for most of the game, yeah, hard to not notice. I would've much preferred a more normal tail that could've also had some spikes around the tip of it if you must carry the punk theming that far.

Also I'm not a fan of their name. “Toxtricity” is just toxic and electricity clumsily mashed together and it doesn't really roll off the tongue. Like, was that really the best localization could come up with?? If I had to take a crack at naming it, I would've called it Punkture or something similar.

Personal Score: 10/10

G-Max Toxtricity:

The two Toxtricities share a G-Max form that incorporates elements from them both. And hmm... I'm not as much of a fan of this G-Max, sadly. It's still cool, don't get me wrong, but the tesla coil look to the tail feels out of place and a bit more “generic electric type” imagery to me compared to all the electric guitar/bass theming the previous two had.

It's also huddled down on all fours. I'm sure some are happy about that much, and it helps differentiate it from its normal-sized self, but I felt like being anthro was a little vital to the line's theming, given it needed some free hands to strum its bumps. The spark eyes are also neat but the tired look just looks more amusing to me. Eh. Just every feature here feels “It's neat and all but the basic forms did it better.”

Oh, wait, there is ONE thing!

Its attack animations sees it pulling a literal electric guitar out and smashing its opponents with it. Now THAT is wicked cool!!

Personal Score: 9.5/10

[Archive]

#Pokemon #Toxel #Toxtricity #Pokemon Reviews #Gigantamax Toxtricity

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x OC)

Summary: Maggie meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Maggie meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it

Word count: 5k

a/n: Thank you all for your kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

Maggie felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.

“Are you almost done?”

“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.

“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.

She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”

“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”

Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”

She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”

…

Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.

He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.

He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”

“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”

She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Maggie knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?

Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.

Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.

Maggie turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.

The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Maggie began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”

“Ah, yes— you must be Maggie. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Maggie wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”

Maggie mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.

She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Maggie watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.

“Maggie,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Maggie returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Maggie saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”

The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Maggie folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.

“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Maggie nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”

Maggie laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Maggie with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”

Maggie felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”

“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.

“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.

“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple, I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Maggie. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”

“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Maggie’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Maggie with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”

Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Maggie laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”

“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Maggie shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Maggie agreed.

“Oh,” Diana tapped Maggie’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”

“Mom,” Spencer choked out.

“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Maggie begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”

Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”

Maggie turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”

“Did you figure out the trick?” Maggie asked.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”

“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Maggie. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”

“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.

Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Maggie could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Maggie. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”

“A classic in its own right,” Maggie said.

Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”

“I love Ferdinand!” Maggie gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”

Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”

The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Maggie was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.

Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Maggie’s home, her family, and most of her interests.

Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Maggie found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.

It was the happiness that scared her.

She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy— was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet down from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.

This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Maggie’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”

The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”

She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”

Maggie watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Maggie stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Maggie clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Maggie returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”

Maggie blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.

With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Maggie excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.

“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”

…

Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Maggie leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.

Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Maggie, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.

“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Maggie’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”

Maggie laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”

Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Maggie. “What’s your poison?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Maggie insisted.

Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”

“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.

A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Maggie. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”

…

She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Maggie’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.

They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Maggie couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.

Eventually, Maggie had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.

Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary. Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring. Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.