#i have so many thoughts and the are all *women* in slightly different fonts

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Review: Fling by Joseph Murray

I don’t think I need to keep saying that I am inexplicably drawn to this art style on book covers. Of course, with a title like Fling, I expected this to be about casual relationships and perhaps two people who fall in love despite fighting against it. While that is what I got, it wasn’t exactly the full story.

After six years of marriage, Tara and Colin’s marriage is on the rocks after yet another failed round of IVF. But there’s a new dating app on the scene. Fling encourages married people to find the perfect person to have an affair with and Tara and Colin are both encouraged to sign up to it. The lost spark that appears to have left their marriage long ago might turn out to have been right under their noses all along.

The book did a great job of illustrating a marriage that has been worn down by the heartache of trying to conceive. In the first chapter, I thought this would be a pretty emotional read and I wish this theme had been explored a bit more than it was. For a topic that features so heavily at the very beginning and is a big reason for Tara and Colin’s resentment towards each other, they didn’t really talk about it much after the first chapter. I definitely wanted more of this vulnerability throughout the book.

For a male author, Joseph Murray also does a good job of highlighting everyday sexism. It’s quite rare to see in books written by men but it came up a few times in Fling, which I really appreciated. 

There were also parts of this book that were genuinely really funny and original. I have never heard anyone described as ‘the human incarnation of the Comic Sans font’ but obviously, I completely understand it! Unfortunately, these jokes were very few and far between, which was a huge shame.

Colin’s friend Rory gave me the strongest physical ick that I’ve had in a long time. He is a huge misogynist and it’s not even slightly subtle. I hated reading the conversations between him and Colin because they just seemed to be obsessed with how women looked. According to them, a woman who isn’t conventionally pretty isn’t even worth talking to in a romantic way and to be honest, Colin showed signs of the same mindset. If this is genuinely how men that we’re supposed to like talk to each other when there are no women around, I’m so disappointed and angry.

Tara’s colleague Emily wasn’t any better. She seems to be fully on board with infidelity and was clearly only concerned with Tara having a fulfilling sex life. While I have no problem with people having casual relationships and being polyamorous, I do have a problem with those people trying to push those who are in committed, monogamous relationships into ‘giving it a try’ without informing their monogamous partner first. That happened twice with two different characters in this book, so of course, it felt horrible.

Another problematic statement from Emily came in the quote above. She is ‘so quirky and Gen Z’ that she can’t possibly refer to herself as heterosexual. Because being heterosexual is boring and having a queer sexuality is so in right now, apparently. 

Also, millennials don’t care about the planet or have panic attacks about failures. Those are Gen Z things only but millennials can have avocado toast and no money. I really hate it when the media divides the generations into over-simplified categories like this and I never expected to see it in a rom-com but here we are.

Fling rests on a very icky concept for an app that I like to think wouldn’t ever become a reality but let’s be honest, something similar either already does exist or certainly will one day. Both of the side characters were awful people and I wasn’t crazy about Colin either. I did get intensely frustrated by the miscommunication and the near-misses that Tara and Colin kept having and I suppose that must mean that I cared about their marriage, which I did. However, I think there were too many things that I disliked about it to be able to recommend it in good faith. 

#fling #joseph murray #rom-com #romance #book review #review #books #bookworm

[lesliemcqueen2]

hermes pochette kelly 27

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[coylerose89]

Greatest Dhgate Replica Bags Sellers Dec

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[whatifwekilledgodandwebothgirls]

Six the musical

#six the musical #six #fuck #wlw #i have so many thoughts and the are all *women* in slightly different fonts #like i wanted to make an actual analysis of the show but like nope thats all i got fam :/ #no thoughs only gay #homosexual #women #lesbian #saphic #music #theater #musicals

[rowanaelinn]

Strange Love

A one shot I’ve been working on for a few days to thank you for 100 followers!! I’m so happy to see people enjoying my fics, i truly love it.

warning: nsfw

“What can I get you?” The barkeep asked Aelin with his most charming smile. He was young and a brunette, exactly Aelin’s type, and according to his name tag he was named Chaol. If only she was less tired or if she was in Doranelle for her own fun she might have tried to flirt with him. “We’ll take two Sex On The Beach, please,” Fenrys, Aelin’s best friend, and coworker, ordered for them both. As funny as it was, whenever they saw each other they drank the same thing. They had met at a work conference five years ago, both of them were sitting at the bar, not in the mood to keep up with their boss, and both of them were drinking the same thing. it had become their ritual, that little thing that made their friendship special.

The waiter nodded and started preparing the drinks. When Aelin looked at her friend he had an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. “What is it?” She asked.

“That guy is basically Sam with straight hair, you can’t keep seeing men that look exactly the same.”

“That’s not true!” It was true. “Besides, I wasn’t going to try anything.”

The look he gave her proved he didn’t believe her. When Chaol brought their drinks and winked at Aelin, she couldn’t help but laugh with Fenrys. “Okay, I may have a type,” Aelin admitted and Fenrys shook his head as he drank. “But there is nothing wrong with that!”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with it, Ace. But having a type and dating the same guys in different fonts every time are two very different things. You need to spice things up!” He shook her shoulders and they both laughed. “You work your ass off all the time. For Mala’s sake, you haven’t got laid in two years.”

She took the little piece of pineapple hanging on the rim of her glass and threw it into Fenrys' head, right between the eyes. “I should never have told you this.”

Of course, the bastard just laughed, he never took things seriously, exactly like Aelin, as long as it wasn’t about her. “We are on another continent for four days, why don’t you go for it and have some fun.”

“I am at a club with you, I’m having lots of fun.”

“Unless you want to sleep with me again, I can’t give you the fun I’m talking about right now.” This time she took Fenrys’s piece of pineapple and this time he received it on the nose.

“Sleeping with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Fenrys put both hands on his heart, pretending to be hurt by Aelin’s words. She shook her head as she laughed and looked around her. The club was quite crowded for a Thursday night, Fenrys and Aelin both had been lucky to find seats at the bar. “So you want me to take advantage of Elide and Lorcan’s wedding to have sex, that’s what you mean?”

“You'll meet a lot of people at their rehearsal dinner tomorrow or at the ceremony on Saturday. Many of them will be Lorcan’s friends that you will see only for two days.”

“I’m Elide’s bridesmaid, Fen. I won’t have time to flirt.”

“Elide told me Lorcan’s best man was hot!” he tried as he finished his first drink and ordered another one for both of them.

“He is Lorcan’s friend, I don’t trust anyone who pulls out with Lorcan’s bullshit,” She said and finished the end of her glass so that Chaol could take it back and put another one in front of her. “Besides Elide.”

“Amen,” Fenrys said as they clinked their drinks. Lorcan wasn’t Aelin and Fenrys’s biggest fan, and the feeling was mutual. Elide might see another side of this man when it’s just the both of them because Aelin didn’t know why else she would marry him. But Aelin never saw her sister happier than when she was with Lorcan, so Aelin was happy for her.

“Well since you don’t want to get laid tomorrow and Saturday, why not tonight? If you discreetly turn around you’ll see one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen staring at your back.”

Aelin was skeptical. Fenrys and her had similar tastes in women but not in men. She took her drink in hand and turned around slowly as if she was just looking around the club.

Her breath caught when she found a man with silver hair looking at her. He was sitting a few seats away from Aelin, and his eyes were fixed on her. She had dressed up well, she might not have gotten a lot of action lately because of her job but she still loved to be looked at. She was beautiful and she knew it, so she had no reasons to hide.

She had borrowed one of Lysandra’s dresses today, this one was gold. The dress was tight and exposed enough of her chest and back that she caught several glances at her tonight. The stranger was one of them. He had no shame in lowering his gaze to her breast and biting his lip. When his gaze descended again on Aelin's body, she arched her back slightly, crossing her legs to make her dress rise a little more.

As he drank in the sight of her, she marveled at the way his white shirt exposed his muscles. She even caught a tattoo on one of his arms, and with the way his head is turned toward her she could swear the tattoo went up to his neck. It was Aelin’s turn to bite her lip, she always found men with tattoos hot.

When Aelin looked back at his face he had a satisfied smirk, happy to catch her staring. She wouldn’t feel ashamed, not when it seemed he had to readjust his position in his seat after looking at her. She drank her cocktail down in one and delicately wiped her lips with her thumb, drawing the stranger's attention to them. Gods, it was almost too simple. Aelin loved the hunt, she loved to make things last. If she didn't have to fight for something it meant it wasn't worth it.

But the man wasn’t at her side yet, he was just sitting and seemed content to look at her. Most men would already be talking with her now or would be using their tongue in another way. But if Aelin learned something in twenty-seven years of life, it was that men didn’t like to wait. But maybe this silver-haired stranger did, maybe he was like her.

“You’re going to help me,” Aelin said as she took Fenrys' hand, he hurriedly finished his drink before getting down from his chair, following Aelin onto the dance floor. She slightly accentuated the sway of her hips, sure to have the stranger's attention on her.

“You’re the devil,” Fenrys chuckled as his hands slid on her hips and turned her around, pressing her back into his front. They started dancing slowly, both of their hips moving together. As her head fell back on Fenrys’s shoulder and one of his hands trailed up to her stomach, she opened her eyes to find the stranger staring at them.

If Aelin knew anything else about men is that they felt entitled to what doesn’t belong to them. So if she wanted to make him jealous to get what she wanted in the end, she would rather use Fenrys than a random man who could get violent for rejecting him in the end.

“With all the work I put into this I sure hope you'll ask me to join,” Fenrys said loud enough for her to hear as his lips grazed where the shoulder met her neck.

“Go find your own fun,” Aelin wasn’t shy in the bedroom but never had she done a threesome and she certainly wouldn’t have her first with a stranger.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed as she slid a hand on Fenrys’s blonde curls, arching against him. He tightened his grip around his glass of whiskey. Aelin's eyes were fixed on his fingers. She could imagine what they would feel like on her cheeks, breasts, stomach, tights or even inside her. Her inside twitched at that thought.

From the look on his face, he knew what had just been on her mind. Was this supposed to impress me? He seemed to ask as he arched his brow. He leaned in his seat and made a sign to Aelin to keep going. She couldn’t help but smirk and decide she liked this man.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Aelin winked at the man and turned around. She slid her hand around Fenrys neck and he automatically knew what she was doing. He laughed as he lowered his head to kiss her.

The kiss was heated, exactly the way it needed to be. One of his hands gripped her ass, bringing her closer to him while the other found her breast. She moaned, imagining the stranger's hands instead of Fenrys’s. Aelin opened her eyes to find him right in front of her, still sitting, staring at them. He was breathing heavily, eyes fixed on her. It felt so scandalous to kiss someone just for the show, just to provoke someone else.

She closed her eyes as Fenrys broke the kiss to start nipping at her neck. She threw her head back, still thinking about someone else's lips. Fenrys was good at it, but he wasn’t the one she needed now.

“Can I cut in?” A deep voice interrupted them as a warm hand slid on Aelin’s waist. She turned around to see deep green eyes staring at her. Her heart started beating faster at the mischief in these eyes, Aelin had no idea what she had just got into. Fenrys took his hands off her and kissed her cheek, murmuring to her to stay safe, to call him if she needed and he left them alone. Or as alone as they could be in a crowded club.

Having him so close to her made her feel many things but she did her best to keep a normal face. She gasped when he used his hand around her waist to turn her around, pressing her back to his front. Well, that wasn't exactly what she imagined herself doing once she spoke to him. “Don’t be shy, baby. You seemed to like dancing like a whore five minutes ago, didn’t you?”

She could feel herself getting wet at his crude words, this man was going to kill her before the end of the night and she wasn’t complaining. “Maybe I just don’t want to dance with you,” she taunted as her hips started moving with his. As she arched her back to feel more of him, she felt the evidence of his desire. Gods, he had gotten hard watching her. That might be the hottest thing Aelin ever lived.

“Is that why your eyes were on me when your tongue was down his throat?” One of his hands slid up, close enough to her breast for him to stroke the underside with his thumb. Her head fell back on his shoulder and she turned her head to find his eyes on her. She could see all his features now, and she’d been stupid to think every man she had been attracted to had been her type. Her type was him, nothing else.

She couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed. Looking at him as he touched her was too intense, she ground her ass harder on his erection, wanting to make him as desperate as she was. His hand slipped around her waist, holding her as close as he could, as the other one cupped her cheek, keeping her eyes on him. His thumb traced the curve of her lips, she opened her mouth and she stuck out her tongue to lick the tip of his finger in the most provocative way possible while keeping her eyes innocent.

He growled and inserted his thumb in her mouth, she closed her full, luscious, lips around it and turned her tongue around the tip. He leaned to her ear and whispered, tickling her with his hot breath, "You want me to fuck you, baby?"

She nodded eagerly, no longer caring that she looked desperate when his hand slid down to her thigh, just below her dress. He stroked her skin, if he moved his hand up a little he could touch her panties. “Are you wet?” He asked, making her clench around nothing. She didn’t have time to nod before his finger stroked her lace-covered slit. She moaned loudly around his thumb, suddenly grateful for the music. He slipped one finger under her panties and groaned at what he found. She closed her eyes as he caressed her folds, not touching either her entrance or clit. This man was a tease and Aelin loved it. “You’re so fucking wet, is it all for me?” he asked and let out a low laugh when she didn’t answer. “Does it turn you on to be touched in front of everyone?”

As if only remembering where they were, Aelin’s eyes shot open and she turned her head, trying to see if anyone was looking at them. Aelin’s mouth was left empty without the man’s thumb. He used his free hand to push her head back on his shoulder, forcing her to look at him. He had a satisfied smirk on his lips and didn't look worried about the hundreds of people around them.

“Nobody’s noticing you, baby. But you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me because I’m going to make you come right now and I don’t want anyone else to look at you.”

She wanted to protest, she really wanted to. But all she did was bite her lip when the stranger's thumb flicked her clit and another of his fingers plunged into her entrance. He didn’t wait before thrusting into her at the right rhythm to get her off. He added another finger and Aelin couldn’t help but let out another moan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the pleasure but it apparently wasn’t in the man’s plan. “Look at me when I make you come, baby.” Too gone to care, Aelin opened her eyes and clenched around his finger when she met his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and having them on her as she started rolling her hips against his hand was almost too much. “You’re so tight, I can’t wait to feel your cunt around my cock,” He whispered in her ear as he added a third finger. He circled her clit one last time and she fell over the edge, hiding her head in his neck as she bit her lip to the blood not to scream of pleasure. He didn’t stop thrusting into her, prolonging her climax. When her walls stopped spasming around his finger he stopped, pulling out his fingers.

Her legs were shaking and if he didn’t use his arm to hold her she would have fallen on the floor. “You did so well,” he praised her, kissing the top of her head. She just let a man whose name she didn’t know finger her in public and made her come faster than anyone ever did. She could almost laugh at the situation if she wasn’t still so needy.

“Join me in the bathroom?” He asked and she didn’t answer, only took his hand and started walking. The moment he closed and locked the door, she was thrown on the wall and his lips crashed onto hers. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, sliding her hands through his soft silver hair.

"What's your name?" She asked as he kissed her jaw and then her neck.

He looked back at her face, she was grateful he was holding her legs because she felt them weaken, pinned under his stare. “What’s yours, baby?” She wanted to say she asked first, but she knew enough about him to know he was in control.

“Celeana,” the lie rolled off her tongue easily. No matter how good this man was, he was still a stranger and Aelin was a woman. The less he knew about her, the better. “Yours?”

“You won’t need to call me anything else than ‘sir’.” He said with a proud smirk as he got her back on her feet and turned her around to face the mirror. He pushed her so her hands rested on the sink, the only thing holding her when he started kissing her neck.

“If I’m too rough you say red, understand?” He asked, looking at her in the mirror. She just nodded, leaning her back into his front. He pulled her dress up around her waist and spanked her. She bent over the sink, only held on her legs by the man's hold on her hip. The pain spread throughout her body, setting all her nerves on fire. “Use your damn words, Celeana.”

“Yes.” Not the answer he wanted because he spanked her twice, once on each ass cheek, harder than the first time. She couldn’t hold back her moans.

“Want to say something?” He asked, his tone mocking. She shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like being treated that way. She had had public sex and been degraded for the first time in her life tonight, and the gods knew how much she loved all of it.

“I understand, sir.” She breathed.

“So you can be a good girl, that’s surprising.” He said as he stroked her ass. “You’d deserve to be spanked to the blood for kissing another man in front of me.” She moaned at his words. she arched her back, silently begging for more. He let out a soft chuckle and instead of giving her what she wanted, he took his hand off her ass. She cried out, mourning the loss of his hand.

He wrapped her long golden hair around his wrist, pulling at it. He made her look at him in the mirror as he slid the strap of her dress, exposing her bare breast. Aelin hated wearing a bra, and stopping wearing one did wonders for them.

The man took one in his hand, playing with her nipple as he used his other hand to pull harder at her hair. “Beg for it,” He commanded but Aelin didn’t. Unhappy with her behavior, he slapped her breast, hard. He took her nipple between his fingers and twisted, making her cry out in pain. “If you don’t beg me, you brat, your pretty pussy is the next thing I will spank and I won’t stop until you come.”

“Gods, please,” she moaned, a tear falling from her eye. “Please, sir. Fuck me, I need you in me, sir.” She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded, she would die if she didn’t have this man in her.

“Celeana?” He asked as he made her panties slide down her legs.

“Sir?”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He bent her over the sink and unbuckled his belt. Aelin wanted to see his cock, he had felt so big against her ass.

His tip teased her entrance and then her clit. She didn’t care if someone heard her moan as he slowly entered her. He was big, bigger than any of the men she ever had. He buried himself to the hilt, groaning as her walls spasmed around him. It hurt to have him inside of her, but she welcomed and enjoyed the pain, and he knew it.

That’s why he didn’t wait for her to adjust and started thrusting into her, hard. Her eyes shut, focusing entirely on the feeling of him filling her.

She was shaking so much she didn’t know how her legs kept holding her. He pulled out and entered her again, hard, his balls slapping her clit. “Your cunt feels so fucking good,” He moaned, going faster, harder. His hand slammed on her ass, tearing another cry out of her. She was close.

He made her rise, hanging the angle of his cock, keeping her from falling with a hand around her throat. Delicately, he tightened his grip, and Aelin’s eyes rolled. His other hand found her clit.

“Sir,” she moaned, trying to hold her orgasm back.

“What is it, baby?” He was breathless. “Use your words, Celeana.”

“Please, can I come?” She prayed to every gods in the world he would let her come, but when she opened her eyes and found him smirking she knew her prayers were useless.

He only said “No,” and thrust faster in her, chasing his own orgasm.

Aelin wished she had a name to moan as she tried to focus on everything but the feeling of this man in her pussy and his finger on her clit. She cried,  both in pain and pleasure as he kept going, hitting that spot deep inside of her nobody ever hit before

“Let go,” he grunted. “Come for me, Celeana.” His grip around her neck tightened even more and she lost control. She screamed, loudly, as she fell over that cliff of pleasure. Barely noticing she squirted. He kept thrusting into her and came a second later, spilling himself inside of her. Both leaned on the sink, trying to take their breath.

He pulled out of her and made her sit on the sink. Her back rested against the mirror, too tired to do anything by herself. He got dressed and took some paper to clean her up, she whimpered, too sensitive to be touched. He softly apologized, kissing her shoulder as he helped her get her dress back in place.

“Think you would want to do this again?” He asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. There was only curiosity and desire in his eyes, not demands.

“Sorry,” She gave him a small smile. “I’m not from here and anyway, I don’t really do more than one nightstand.” Gods forbid anyone ever gets attached. He only nodded and gave her a small smile full of understanding.

“Will I ever get your name?” She teased him, earning a soft laugh from him.

“I think I‘d like to keep some mystery.”

------------

“We’re late,” Fenrys stated as they both entered the elevator.

“We’re fashionably late,” Aelin corrected him and he snorted. Both of them were past the point of fashionably late. Elide would be mad at her, she knew it, but Lorcan would be too and she kind of liked the sound of that.

“She’s going to kill you,” Aedion warned as he met them in the hall. Aelin quickly took him and Lysandra in her arms and started walking to the reception room.

“She won’t be physically violent, she won’t take the risk to ruin her bridesmaid look.”

“It’s Elide we’re talking about, it’s not physical violence I would worry about if I was you.” Lysandra chuckled, of course, she would find it funny. Aelin rolled her eyes but laughed along with her friend. Soon they were in the room, they were careful not to make noises, not wanting to drag attention to them.

She looked at her watch and sighed, one hour late wasn’t that bad, was it? At least, Fenrys would suffer from Elide’s rage if it came to that. Aelin took a glass of champagne and walked to Elide and Lorcan. Lorcan was talking to someone but she couldn’t see who because this bastard was just too tall. “Ellie,” Aelin started, taking the small woman in her arms. Maybe affection will make her less angry?

“You bitch!” Elide whisper-shouted, pushing Aelin away from her. Well, her plan definitely didn’t work.

“Elide, you look ravishing,” Fenrys winked and Aelin had to use all her focus not to laugh at Elide’s angry face. She was almost shaking as if it was taking everything in her not to yell at Aelin and Fenrys. If she laughed right now she was kicked out of the wedding, she knew it. Elide seemed to relax a little as Lorcan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“Galathynius, Moonbeam.” He nodded. “So your plane didn’t crash.” She said with a point of humor but Aelin didn’t care and flipped him off. Fenrys just softly laughed and put an arm around Aelin’s shoulder, a normal way for him to show his affection.

“You two didn’t meet Lorcan’s best man.” Elide said as the man who talked with Lorcan turned around. Aelin’s heart stopped. No, no, no, no. “Rowan, this is Aelin, my sister. Aelin, this is Rowan, Lorcan’s best friend.”

This had to be some kind of sick joke, there was no way the man who fucked her last night was Lorcan’s best man. The universe really hated her. His eyes widened when he saw her and even more when Elide said Aelin’s name. Her real name.

Fenrys burst out laughing loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

—————

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin smut #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass

[scarletwidowaf]

broadway, baby. (part 1)

Florence pugh x female Reader

Summery: reader is a singing waitress in a new York restaurant (like in glee) where many famous people go to, and one night the little women cast are are there and R is their waitress.

Warnings: there's some cursing and harassment. Its not revolve around it but its there.

A\N: im soft for florence pugh and this is a complete shit.

masterlist

Credits: Glee Gif Credit • Florence Gifs Credit

“I'm just a Broadway Baby, walking off my tired feet, Pounding Forty Second Street to be in a show. Broadway Baby, learning how to sing and dance, waiting for that one big chance to be in a show.” - Cast of follies

Life can be hard and some days can be rough, especially in your line of work where people competed for the spotlight on a daily basis. but that's life and that’s the road you chose to walk through.  And it's alright, after all, what's life without a spark? A movie without a breaking point? or a shift at Clayton's without drama?

This was one of these days, the kind of days who kept you on an edge as your body and mind both ached for a break.

'Just roll with it. just a few hours for your day off.' You silently said to yourself.

Being a young artist in New York was a challenge you’ve taken on yourself, luckily for you working at "Clayton's" was a good way to start a career.  most people who started working there were young talented artist who were determined to make an impression over the industry. The place was always packed with many famous people, from actors to singers and producers. So, in many ways, working in "Clayton's" could be a ticket to Broadway or the music industry. And that was the reason you moved there in the first place.

You tried the traditional way, but after months of trying to get into college and fix your past mistakes, like your high school career, you decided that this path wasn’t for you. no matter what you did or how hard you tried your ADHD still managed to kick your ass. So, that’s how you ended up as a singing waitress in NY. You liked your job, truly. You liked singing and dancing and meeting cool people along the way, but sometimes it was just too much.

"You look like shit" Aaron said from his spot at the bar.

Aaron was a sweet guy and probably the only straight person in your group of friends. He was charming and talented and most importantly; he was the first friend you got in NY.

Aaron pulled his long brown hair into a bun as he chuckled at you. You huffed in frustration in return.

"Thanks" you muttered as he passes you a mug with coffee, hoping to help you get a grip before the restaurant opens.

"You need to rest" he said. "properly" 

"that’s overrated" you joked and took a sip.

You felt an hand on your shoulder and you turned around to meet your friend's stern gaze. "You, okay?" she asked

"Always" you answered Mackenzie's question and she raised her eyebrow, knowing full well you were lying. 

"we should sing as a warm up!" David, another one of your coworkers and Aaron's twin brother said.

"Let's not" Aaron said as he rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm. 

You laughed quietly as the two started bickering. Mack and you glanced at each other knowingly. Both of you already know who will win in the stupid argument.

15 minutes later, after a group warm up and Aaron's dramatic sighs 'Clayton's' was open for business.

It was a nice evening, not too full, not too loud. And most importantly, not too many known faces.

Of course, you liked to have famous people on your shifts, and it could obviously be a game changer for you but it can get intense at times and you want in the mood. Seriously, how can you be the only one who found singing "defying gravity' in font of Idina Menzel as a very stressful experience?? You were terrified by the idea you'll fuck up in front of the original singer- and make a total fool out of yourself. 

When 10 pm rolled around, every opinion you had about the evening flew out the window. at this point, the restaurant was full with costumers and some known faces as well, and you found yourself holding every inch of you together as you approach the table who was occupied by the one and only Meryl Streep, and some fellow little women cast members.  

 *rule number 1 of working at Clayton's: don't make costumers feel uncomfortable. Don't annoy the costumers, don't ask for autographs if they're famous and generally treat them as normal and respectfully as you can. *

 "Hello, my name is Y/N and ill be your waitress for tonight" you introduced yourself with a small smile. The women smiled at you brightly.

"How does it work" Meryl held the tablet with a puzzled expression. "Am I that old?" She joked

"Barley" One of the other women, Emma fucking Watson, said. 

"I know it looks complicated-" you told them as you took the tablet from Meryl's hand."-But it's pretty simple, actually, I promise. As you can see the top part of the tablet is divided into two sections: The right one who says 'ask for a waiter'- which means that your waiter- which in this case, me, is busy- probably performing at the moment, and you can ask for a different waiter." You said with an ease, knowing the explanation by heart.

"The left section says 'ask for my waiter' which is a pretty simple one to understand... I guess- if you'll need me for whatever reason, you can press it and it'll page me. Feel free to use it."  You said with a smile as you scanned their faces, making sure they understand the first part.

"And the bottom section?" Saoirse asked. 

"The bottom section is the 'refill' sections. It will get into validation only after ill place your order in my own tablet and send to the kitchen." You explained as you gestured to your own tablet. "It's pretty useful, the point of it is that you can ask for a refill without having to social with me. Its awesome"

You noticed one of them, Florence pugh, scanning the tablet with a small smile- as she listened to your explanation. She was absolutely a sight for sore eyes, that's for sure.

"Thats pretty cool" she said and you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got really excited over it when I started working here" you admitted awkwardly "most importantly- When a section isn't relevant its will be grey instead of in color so you won't get confused. Like, for example - if You haven't ordered anything yet you can't get a refill, for the obvious reason. or if I'm not performing you can't ask for another waiter... which means you're stuck with me for the time being" you finished with a small chuckle.

"I don't think any of us mind that" Florence smiled and the others agreed. The blonde smiled at you again and you blushed slightly. "You're singing, right?" she asked out of the blue, just when you were about to leave and let them look through their menus. 

"Yeah, i do. In a few minutes, actually" 

"Thats cool! Good luck" she smiled and you wondered if Emma, who set the closest to you, could hear how fast your heart's beating. 

"Thank you" you said with a smile and turned around to the stage. 

__________________

"you paged? I'm guessing you guys ready to order then" You said as you approached their table after your performance. 

"YOU WERE SO GODD!" Florence said excitedly.

"Thank you" you blushed slightly. 

What. The. Fuck. Y/N?! You scolded yourself.

The others joined into the conversation with their own compliments and you thought you'd die when Meryl Streep, the legend herself, complimented you.

After another few moments the conversation calmed downed and moved to the next, and most important topic: the food. You tried your best to not blush under Florence's soft gaze and keep your focus on the other members of her table as they consulted you about the dishes, but damn, that was hard.  luckily for you it didn’t take long and a few minutes later, their order was sent to the kitchen. 

 The next hour and a half weren't much different. you sang and placed orders, you smiled to costumers and even pretend to laugh at some old man's joke. And maybe (just maybe) you glanced over to Florence every now and then.

The thing about Clayton's is that apart for the famous people who visit there frequently, it also contains many of the rich and the snobs of New York, so you weren't surprised when you got paged from a table who was occupied by two guys with fancy clothes and their parents credit card.

"Hey" one of them said to you as you approached them. 

"hey, welcome to Clayton's! You're David's table, right?" You said and pointed at your friend who started his own performance.

"Yeah, the fag one" the other guy said and your smile fell.

Take a deep breath, Y/N. It's not worth it. 

"I see you guys already ordered a few minutes ago" you said as you checked your tablet.

"Yeah" the asshole confirmed. 

"Okay, in that case, how can I help you?" You asked politely as you could. 

"we would like to get the check." The first guy said politely as he pulled out a few bills from his wallet. "Keep the change" he said as you took it and made sure it was enough.

"Thank you" you smiled politely and made a mental note to give David his well-earned tip.

"my brother want to know if you're single" the asshole said and the nicer guy looked at his with his eyes wide.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a relationship" you lied after a moment, hoping the lie will spare both his feeling and any more questions in the subject.

The guy nodded in understanding but on the other hand, the other guy didn’t seem to get the massage.  

"I'm sure he won't mind sharing" the asshole said and you felt sorry for the poor guy for being related to this ass.

"What the fuck Chad" the nice guy said as chad smirked at you.

"yeah... that’s not going to happen." You glared at him "have a great weekend tho" you gritted out and turned around to leave.

you were taken by surprise when you felt chad's hand on your ass. Again, what the fuck?!

"What the fuck is wrong with you' asshole" you gritted out and moved away from him. 

Don't make a scene. He's not worth it. 

"C'mon-" he started to say as he got up. You moved away, knowing you were cornered since the place was full, the lights were deemed and the music was loud. 

"Don't touch me" you said and moved away; you're back hitting an empty table who stood nearly.

"Hey what's going on here?" You heard and turned to catch Florence walking to you.

If a look could kill chad would’ve been dead. that’s for sure. It's like the sweet and excited Florence had left and a different, intimidating (and hot) version of her took her space and so help you god, you were glad she was on your side.

"Nothing! we were just leaving, really" Frankie said.

"None of your business" brad said and Florence raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow, daring him to cross her.

"I see" she said "well, I'm sure y/n won't mind my intruding" 

'Thank god for Florence Pugh.' You thought.

Before chad could press the subject any further David, who just finished his performance, got there. You were sure he noticed that something was happening.

"what's going on here?" he asked after he scanned the situation quickly.

"nothing as I said to your friend, we were just leaving" Frankie said again. 

he didn’t want to draw any negative attention, just like you, and thankfully for the both of you, not many people noticed the situation.

This time chad didn't answer, he just glared at Florence and you while his brother pulled him away from the place.

"so, are you going to tell me what happened?" David asked Florence and you after the two left.

Florence looked at you, waiting for you to answer him. 

"Nothing" you lied. "it's okay David, you can go" you promised your friend. David looked at you with his 'I done believe you' expression, but he didn't press it any further. He just nodded before he turned around and left. 

 Rule number 2: do not make a scene under no circumstances. At Clayton's, everything you do while you're on the clock is practically showcased. You slip? you fall? you sing out of tune? Its under a spotlight, everyone can see that and everyone will have something to say about it. Thats the thing about this place.  most people who started there and moved on to bigger things as Broadway or Hollywood were practically trained to keep their best poker face, act on the demand or pretend that everything is okay when it was clearly not. 

 "You should go back to your table" you said to Florence 

she looked at you with an unreadable expression before she went back to her table. You didn't have much time to read into it since a few minutes later you found yourself at her table, printing their check and having a small friendly conversation with the women. You smiled at them as they left before you turned your tablet off and went to cover for Aaron at the bar.

 "I thought you guys left" You said with a smile when the blonde approached you a few minutes later. 

"Why did you lie?" Florence asked with the same unreadable expression from earlier.

Okay. No smiling then.

"I didn’t" you pulled out two shot glasses and filled them with tequila. The blonde gave you a 'are you kidding me' kind of look and you couldn't help but to chuckle. "I didn't see a reason to make a scene over nothing" you explained and downed one of the shots.

"It wasn't nothing Y/N" she said before taking the other glass. 

"its fine. I'm fine. He didn’t do anything " you said as she downed her shot.

"Yeah, because I was there" she argued.

"I can handle guys like him. Seriously, at this point it might as well be a part of my job" 

"you're not helping yourself"

"I liked you better smiling" you chuckled as she glared at you.

"I'm sure you did"

"shut up" 

"How's your back?" She asked/

The blonde definitely didn't seem convinced about the chad situation but you were just grateful for the change of subject.

"It will be alright"

"Good"

"I appreciate your worry, truly. But I'm fine and I really don't want to hold you back here over it" you said  

"Who said I was worried" she smirked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, you don't?" You played along 

"Nope"

"Then why are you still here? Its almost 12 am, don't you have something better to do" you teased her 

"no. Do you?" She turned the question and you laughed. 

"I guess not - considering the fact I work here and I'm still on clock"

"Oh, please we both know this place is about to close" she argued your logic

"True" you admitted

"So, if you have nothing better to do, and you don't, would you like to go out with me? You kinda owe me after I saved your ass earlier"

"Uh, and here I thought you did that as an act of kindness" you joked. A small smile playing on your lips.

"Ew no" she said and You laughed. "Well?" Florence pressed with a cheeky smile.

"Yeah, why not. It's not like I have something better to do" 

"Just what I wanted to hear" she joked.

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pigh x female reader #florence pugh x fem!reader

[milkygcf]

All the King’s horses, all the King’s men

Pairing | myg x reader

Genre | Mystery, thriller, angst, slowburn, e2l, Gang Leader!reader, Detective!yoongi

Warnings | Graphic scenes, use of alcohol, use of drugs, gang violence, explicit language, slightly sexual scenes, social issues, major character death.

Summary | ❝ Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall- Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. Even with all the King’s horses and all the King’s men, Humpty could not be put back together again. ❞

or

❝ An ambitious man caught in thorns, drowning in the delicacy of what the world truly is - a whirlpool of chaos and terror. There, he finds his bitter downfall. ❞

Word Count | 3.1k

Author’s Note | Hello! I wanted to make a quick note about this oneshot before it actually starts. Firstly, I’d like to advise whoever’s reading this that this is just a summary of the actual fic which I will be releasing - however, I have not finalised a date. Secondly, it’s a tad bit rushed and messy and I apologise if it does not reach standards. Due to my personal life, I found that it was quite difficult to find the time to write as much <3 

To end everything, I would like to thank @ficswithluv​ for welcoming me into this wonderful project! I hope you enjoy reading <3

The delicate stomping of your feet upon the gravel startles the ravens sitting by. You stop in front of a familiar tombstone, your infamous surname nicely engraved in a fancy font. Before it lay a multitude of flowers, all speedwells as to symbolise loyalty towards the man buried six feet under. It's Valentine's day, and unlike the ravishing hues of blues and purples, you had bought roses to celebrate the event. If anything, you were always the odd one out when on with your business.

You set a few speedwells down, politely placing them into one of the empty jars left out beside the other swarm. It's overwhelming, the very site of your father's name placed in such a lowly place, finally resting beside your mother. It's overwhelming how in only a small amount of time, events took a wicked turn and brought along unnecessary chaos.

You face the neighbouring slate of stone set on the right side of your family's. This one's much duller and greatly lacking in vibrancy, attention. It brings a frown to your features. It's lonely, devoid of any proper affection that one needs in order to stay remembered.

Yet, even though it's desolate, it makes you reminisce. The sight of it doesn't bring you grief - neither does it bring you melancholy. Instead, it fills your train of thought with old memories that you either want to cherish or banish completely. Where forever was once a long time, it’s now a memory. Where pinky promises were depicted as something precious, you now notice that they were nothing but white lies to conceal the truth.

You’d learned this the hard way.

It’s truly surprising how so much can happen in the span of a year, how so many things are able to change and leave dead skin behind. The world is a delicacy of chaos and terror. Time offers only to take. It’s an ancient form of evil and you’ve grown to despise it for it works.

Now you’re left empty, shattered and dull. No longer do you symbolise the purity of a child whose eyes shimmered with innocence, with colour. When you thought you had already grown, you put yourself through trauma. And with a series of unfortunate events, you’ve finally, truly come to understand the world for what it truly is.

Beside you, a wounded soul whom you haven’t seen in such a long time laces his fingers with yours. He draws soothing circles into your skin and you finally breathe. Through thick and thin, you find yourselves here, together, breathing.

Maybe, there is hope for blemished souls like yours.

You met the unusual man at a bar. Although back then, you had no idea what really lied underneath the thick layer of skin that he dawned. The bartender had offered the both of you drinks, pointing out how utterly exhausted the two of you looked. That sparked up small talk – simple, small talk.

Until you were both sharing breaths in a bathroom stall, holding onto each other almost as if your lives depended on it. Every touch of his that settled on your skin burned, the pieces of fabric that your body dawned felt way too heavy. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, teeth biting down on his lip. His hands were on your hips, pulling you closer and closer onto his body until the warmth that was radiating off him made both of you break out.

Both your minds were hazy, your mouths tasted like a mixture of vodka and whiskey. It left a bitter feeling on your tongues. You were so lost in the feeling, the warmth that spread through you and shut out all your concerns.

His hands were playing with the zipper of your dress, fumbling hastily as to waste no time. It was almost funny how men could get so impatient. You were both speaking in tongues, merely pulling back to catch your breaths. His left leg was pushed right against your core making you more sensitive than your own good. You were grinding down on him, moans tumbling out of your mouth as they were muffled into the kiss.

Maybe it was just a moment’s talk, but even though you were barely doing anything, the feeling was euphoric.

He was trailing wet kisses down your neck, giving you the chance to finally catch your breath. Your skin was bruising, your core was pooling, and you were losing sense of reality. His hands were running all over you, making you feel something much greater than pleasure from a simple touch.

It all came to a stop at the sound of his phone ringing aggressively in his pockets, leaving you huffing out in annoyance. He didn’t just leave it and continue with his business; he fished the phone out of his pocket and stormed out of the stall while fixing himself up. There was no “excuse me,” or “I really have to take this.” He just stormed out of the room as if nothing was going on. It left you livid.

Park Jimin, your right-hand man, had to pick you up that night – helped you with your frustrations and worries, held you until you slept and didn’t wake up until dawn.

You were glad to think that you wouldn’t ever see him again, just a one-time failed fling in a population full of many. But your career begged to differ, as about a month or so after, he turned up to a meeting you held, custom-made for new recruits. Never will you forget the surprise on his face, when he found out that you were, indeed, the leader of the cartel. You, a normal woman at the bar, drinking her sorrows away in hopes they’d simmer and give her peace.

Although, you’d like to think there was something else beneath that surprise.

“A woman, as the leader of the sickest cartels in all South Korea?” One of the recruits spoke, a bitter tone hanging on his tongue. “How the fuck is it supposed to stay put?”

It was true that you had no idea how things were supposed to go in the industry – your father never really let you merge yourself with his world. But now, your father lay in a casket six feet under after being found dead in a ditch. You couldn’t really put it in a simpler way, but the only thing you could really say is you refuse to recreate an old nursery rhyme your mother used to tell you when you were just a toddler.

Nothing will stop you from reigning and getting back at whoever slaughtered your plans. You weren’t ready to tolerate anything in your way.

Hence why you didn’t hesitate to make Jimin shoot a bullet through his head, even if it terrified you just the slightest bit. But that was a different story.

Of course, it was no surprise. Women were still thought to be such fragile beings, not being able to handle anything. Once you stepped on top for the throne, you refused to let that put you down. “If any of you dimwits even so much as think about saying stupid shit like that again, I won’t hesitate to decapitate you.”

Jimin always kept his word. Because for the next year or so, whoever even uttered a single word about your command in the cartel faced death. You were never there to see it – Seokjin and Jimin made sure you knew everything that occurred, though.

On the other hand, there was that man you met at the bar. If it was possible, he would’ve disintegrated under your gaze. The dislike you had towards him was surely something grand, and to glitter it up a bit, he seemed to share the same feelings towards you too. Of course, in your defense, he had no reason to.

You weren’t the one who ditched in the middle of a make-out session.

Min Yoongi – he was something. A no one, but something, nonetheless. Ever since you saw him lined up with the other recruits, you’ve had your eye on him. As dumb as he acted, the man was cunning. Just what the cartel needed. Despite acting scared, like everything is all new, you felt as if it was nothing to him – almost as if it was all just a mask to conceal his true intentions. Although, you had no proof to this, so you let these accusations simmer.

His tale was cliché. He needed money but he didn’t have the qualifications to get a job. So, he joined the mafia, a very dirty place to get what you want. You ran background checks on him, just in case, and you found nothing of danger to all of you.

With a few weeks of training, Yoongi was fully accepted into the group and was one of Seokjin’s right-hand men.  

Passing by him in corridors, sitting in the same room with him, even hearing his name made your blood boil. It was unexplainable, but the feeling was mutual. Back then, if he disliked you, then it would only be fair if you disliked him as well. 

The tension was incredibly thick between you two, much that it left others uncomfortable whenever you were in each other’s presence. It was unbearable.

There was this incident once – you remember it like the back of your hand.

Seokjin had sent him to your office to deliver the newest packages that would determine how briskly your newest job was going to go. Despite begging the elder to send someone else as to avoid the awkward tension, the man refused.

The next morning, the raven-haired man was waiting by your door, box in hand. It took you a minute or so of plainly staring at him, observing the way his fingers twitch on the item, the way his eyes squint at you almost as if you were going to swallow him whole. It was quiet. No one said a word until you both entered your office.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again, as a fucking mafia leader.” he said.

“Ta mère ne t'a jamais dit de ne pas faire confiance aux étrangers?” you responded fluently, the accent rolling down your tongue briskly. Yoongi had no clue what you said, hence why you huffed and translated for him.

“I’m pretty sure your mother has warned you about strangers at least once in her life, no?” Your tone was calm, soft and delicate.

“She has. I didn’t think it’d happen with you though.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rested against your desk. “Oh? I apologise then, even though I don’t recall being the one who’s acting arrogant.” As someone below you, he had to show decency, or he’d be thrown out with the dogs. “Arrogant?” he snarled lowly, plummeting down on one of the cushioned chairs placed in front of your mahogany desk. “You’re the one who’s been acting like a bitch all this time.”

“Best watch your tongue before I throw you out,”

“Do it then.”

He was faced with a gun to his head. You glared; finger firmly set on the trigger as you stared directly at him. No way were you going to let him get away with such a disrespectful attitude. He didn’t flinch, neither did he blink. He just stared back at you, slowly shoving his hands in the pockets of his tattered jacket.

“Don’t test me, Min.”

“You wouldn’t do it.”

Once those words tumbled out of his lips, you stiffened. Of course, you’d do it, why wouldn’t you?

“You put on a strong, independent persona but you can barely manage yourself.”

His words are what water is to fire. How dare he talk to you like that? Had he no fucking decency? Did he really want a bullet to pierce his skin in order to start seeing some sense?

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I think you do. That’s you, isn’t it?” His head bobbed towards the painting behind you – the Ses Peines Pleurant Es, a painting your mother had created back in her days. It depicted the both of you against the world, against the pure wickedness you were forced to grow up in. There’s darkness, but in contrast to it, there’s you as a new-born dawned in white.

“What makes you think that?”

The metal felt cold against his skin and Yoongi couldn’t help but shiver. “That painting’s been missing for years, and now that it’s here, it has to be yours.” he spoke calmly, “And frankly, I don’t think I’ve seen someone wear that much white before.”

You looked down at your clothes, all white with no signs of any other hue. It was crazy, truly, but you don’t remember wearing any other colour growing up. Your mother always dressed you up in just white, telling you that you look best in it. You just never really took mind to the resemblance your fashion sense had with the painting.

“Must be a coincidence,” you hummed, lowering the gun down to his chest. “For which I think is none of your business.”

Yoongi only hummed in response. There was a strict silence between the two of you then, before you sent him back to whatever duties Seokjin set on his shoulders. That was one of the encounters you had before things started taking a slight twist.

An infiltration in the Children’s Medical Clinic of Seoul, where one of the doctors was the main leads to what exactly brought your father’s downfall. You remember how ruthless Yoongi was that day, mercilessly shooting at the man without hesitation, without sparing a single breath. It was crazy, hell, it was mad, but you enjoyed it. That only meant strength to the cartel, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

Although, you won’t ever forget the pained screams of children roaring in panic, the sudden stiffness in Min when the man dropped dead and painted the bleached tiles red.

From then on, the hate you harboured towards each other started to simmer. Seokjin and Jimin had noticed this when Yoongi started becoming more obedient, less cocky with the way he formed his words.

To you, this was relief.

But then things started to advance, the two of you started getting closer and before you knew it, you were having affairs late at night. When everyone else was at their respective homes, you were under silken sheets, legs entangled with Yoongi’s. You’d play with his soft locks as he told you his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell you his fears, what he’s always wanted to become ever since he was a toddler.

And you’d listen. You’d listen intently until both of you fell asleep, and you’d rake your brain until you unraveled what all the information you ate up meant.

Jimin started getting suspicions – he found pills in Yoongi’s house. There was no labelling on them, and you didn’t think asking him would somehow enlighten the situation. To make it far more interesting, later you found a multitude of phone numbers scribbled on a piece of paper in his pockets.

Yoongi started becoming strange.

He’d tell you things you were skeptical of, he’d do things you deemed abnormal. And then, he started telling you how someone was out to get you, and how one day he would be famous, people would talk about him wherever he passed by.

You’ve known Yoongi for a year – enough to tell that he was not the man he was before. He wasn’t so mental, he wasn’t a paranoid freak, neither was he so ambitious. Yoongi was just a normal man who needed something to do.

But then, he started talking in his sleep. Words tumbling out of his mouth one by one, telling you who he truly was, the man behind the façade he’d been showing you every day.  Jimin was never one to lie.

There was someone out to get you and it was him. He’d been a wolf in sheep’s clothing, getting closer to you in order to gain information to bring your very downfall. He revealed every little plan, every hidden camera scattered across the base, all managed by none other than the police department.

Humpty Dumpty had the King’s men to aid him, piece him back up and help him up the wall. But you, you had no one.

The man who had shown you what white truly meant, what innocence and happiness felt like, what being normal truly tasted of. Your first and your last love. Min Yoongi, the man who wrapped his hands around your heart and took advantage of what was bare.

Perhaps that was why your mother always teased you about being careful when dealing with boys.

You reminisce how it all went down on Valentine’s Day. How the waves hugged the shore lovingly, being complimented nicely by the dim light of the moon dawning on your silhouettes hand in hand. He felt cold. Yoongi felt distant.

A sweet, passionate kiss was shared that night. It filled you with false hope, chills. It painted a faulty picture in your head of what could have been but hadn’t been. That night, you held him close and held him dearly.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Your toes curled in the damp particles of the sand. Your fingers fell limp. “I love you most,” You muttered back, your lips trailing faint kisses across his neck. When you pulled back, you observed him. Yoongi had never looked so vulnerable in all the times you’ve faced him. Although, even if he was torn, in that very moment to you he was beautiful.

You remember the screeching of birds once you pulled the trigger, your skin and dress then painted in crimson. You remember the sheer surprise scattered across his face until he offered you a gentle smile and collapsed.

“Jour de la Saint-Valentin heureux, mon amour.”

You no longer wore white.

 ---

His name is engraved quite nicely on his tombstone. It still saddens you how barren it looks, devoid of any attention. Hence why you gently set the bouquet of flowers down, bowing your head in respect towards the man who brought you to a new world.

You’ll cherish his presence in your memories instead of forgetting them.

Even if Yoongi left without truly accomplishing his mission, without truly becoming what his desires were, he was deemed dead in vain.

Macbeth let his ambition eat him whole and it led him to his very downfall – the terror of seeing himself crumble and lose power.

Yoongi also was too over-ambitious for his own good. He let himself succumb to the control you were merely lending him, only to suffer the consequences and face his own undoing.

After all, Humpty Dumpty could never really be put back together again.

 “Happy Valentine’s day, my love.”

#fwl project #luv library #detectives #min yoongi #suga #suga angst #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop #bts angst #bts thriller #bts mystery #yoongi scenario

[stephissalty]

you still wear my jacket

Pairing: Iwaoi

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Words: 6000

Summary: "Iwaizumi wasn’t one to believe in fate, but he could believe that there was some very, very cruel intervention that put Oikawa Tooru on the same plane, to the same destination, in the seat next to him, three years nearly to the day since the last time he’d seen him."

AO3

Part 2 - AO3

you still wear my jacket

Iwaizumi Hajime receives a text from his supervisor ten minutes before he’s set to board a plane to London.

Received, 19:04: enjoy your trip. don’t forget to turn off your phone

Received, 19:04: you need the time off

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and sends an affirmative response before tucking his phone back in his pocket. He knew he was very much in need of a break. For the past three months, he had been working twelve-plus hour days, and his team had been working nearly as many. The project his supervisor had assigned to Iwaizumi’s group was interesting, at least: the coding division was to design and perfect a code to a new kind of robot, to be used in conjunction with other existing technology that the company was working on, and compatible with several different kinds of software. Iwaizumi enjoyed his job as a team leader - he’d been offered the position after holding an internship with a sister company while in university - but these past few weeks had been wearing him down, and he was ready to collapse.

His supervisor had suggested that he take a week off and get out of Japan - visit somewhere far away, somewhere he’d never been before for a change of scenery. And he was doing just that.

But even so, he still feels the weight of his laptop in his backpack, and his work phone in one of his pockets buzzes with another text. After this text, I’ll turn it off.

Received, 19:07: Iwaizumi-san, enjoy your trip

The text is from one of his interns, a university student named Kunimi. Even my interns are telling me to enjoy my trip. Have I been overworking that much?

He doesn’t turn off his phone.

He turns his boarding pass over in his hands, fidgeting slightly with the edges of the slick paper. For the millionth time, he reads over his boarding group, which reads BSNS CLASS, and then verifies it is his name at the top of the pass. Indeed, IWAIZUMI HAJIME is printed at the top of the paper along with all of the other flight details. He’s still in awe that he has the privilege to fly Business Class, something that is because of his hearty bonus that came in a few weeks ago. This whole trip was a treat to himself, but the tickets were a splurge.

“We are now welcoming Business Class. Business Class, welcome aboard.”

Iwaizumi makes his way towards the line forming, stepping behind well-dressed men in suits carrying briefcases and women carrying designer purses. At twenty-five years old and dressed in sweats and an old Aoba Johsai jacket, he feels slightly out of place. He puts his discomfort aside as he approaches the desk, where the attendant scans his ticket, and he enters the boarding bridge.

A few minutes later, he’s settled into his seat, 2B. The window seat to his left is still empty as he fishes his headphones and charging cord out of his backpack before stowing it away in the overhead.

It’s several minutes later, and as Iwaizumi is starting to be hopeful that he may have the row to himself that he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry, can I get -” as Iwaizumi looks up, the person speaking abruptly cuts off in surprise. “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi blinks a few times, trying to register the sight in front of him. Standing in the aisle in front of him is none other than Oikawa Tooru. He’s older than the last time he saw him, but he’s definitely Oikawa. His immaculate hair is slightly longer than it was last time, and he looks a little taller, but that might be Iwaizumi’s angle. He’s dressed in a dark shirt under a white jacket with aqua trim and dark sweatpants, and to finish off the ensemble is a head donut around his neck.

“Oikawa.”

“Uh -” For one of the first times that Iwaizumi can recall, Oikawa seems to be out of words. “Looks like I’m sitting next to you. If you want, I can try to request a seat change or -”

“It’s fine. You’re holding up the line. Get in,” Iwaizumi grunts and grits his teeth.

“Right, right.”

Iwaizumi draws up his knees to allow Oikawa to pass, trying not to flinch at the moment of contact.

They sit in silence for a while as the rest of the plane boards, allowing Iwaizumi the distraction to put in his headphones and turn on music, loud enough to try to forget that Oikawa Tooru is sitting next to him. He subtly scoots towards the aisle and pulls his left elbow towards his body, vehemently ignoring the heat emitting from the body next to him.

What are the chances?

Iwaizumi wasn’t one to believe in fate, but he could believe that there was some very, very cruel intervention that put Oikawa Tooru on the same plane, to the same destination, in the seat next to him, three years nearly to the day since the last time he’d seen him.

Three years is a long time.

“Welcome aboard flight 0104, service to London Heathrow. I’m Sawamura, and I’m joined by Azumane, and we’ll be your flight crew for today’s flight. If you’ll direct your attention to your seat-back screens for the safety presentation please…”

The plane pushes back from the gate and begins taxiing towards the runway. Begin a flight from hell.

“Iwa-chan?”

He whips his head to Oikawa and removes one earbud. “Don’t call me that.”

“Iwaizumi...san.” Oikawa has a strange look on his face, as if the name tastes strange in his mouth, which he supposes it probably does.

“What?”

“Is it time now?” The question is vague, but the meaning is clear as day.

“We have been cleared for takeoff. Secure your seatbacks and tray tables in their upright and locked positions. Flight attendants, prepare the cabin for takeoff.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, just puts his earbud back in and raises the volume even higher, to a nearly painful level.

The engines ready for takeoff, Iwaizumi looks to the window as the plane accelerates. He can see, even though the other is faced away from him, the sparkle in Oikawa’s eyes, even before leaving the ground. Once the wheels leave the ground, the city starts shrinking to a grid of yellow lights and soft neons and moving headlights. From Iwaizumi’s vantage point, he doesn’t have the best view, but Oikawa does, and Oikawa, although he’s definitely been on planes countless times, seems captivated by the city getting smaller and the sky getting more vast, getting closer to the soft clouds.

Oikawa’s always loved planes.

Iwaizumi knows that better than anyone. Oikawa’s the reason why Iwaizumi loves flying.

Once they reach ten thousand feet, Iwaizumi immediately connects his work phone to the wifi to check his messages, and, sure enough, in the Oikawa commotion, he’d forgotten to check it before takeoff. He had several messages from another one of his hard-working interns, Kindaichi.

Received 19:15: I got section 44 to compile!

Received 19:15: Yahaba-san will look over it tomorrow

Received 19:15: I’m going to start on 45

Received 19:16: You shouldn’t be doing work on vacation tho

Received 19:16: Have fun, Iwaizumi-san!

Not for the first time, he is exceedingly grateful for his dedicated interns, working even at seven in the evening.

Delivered 19:55: Thank you for your hard work.

Delivered 19:55: Don’t work too late.

He receives an immediate response.

Received 19:55: The same for you!

Delivered 19:56: Thank you.

Although everyone has told him to turn off his phone, he can’t bring himself to. He can’t bear the thought that one of his subordinates could need his help during the time that he’s in the air - after all, it’s a thirteen hour flight. A voice tries to reason that they shouldn’t be working at this time anyways, but it ultimately loses.

“As hardworking as ever,” Oikawa says, somehow catching a quiet moment in one of Iwaizumi’s songs, so his voice cuts through. Iwaizumi thinks he hears a twinge of anger in the word ‘hardworking’. He doesn’t want to think about why.

He returns his attention to his seatmate and wrenches out one earbud. “Huh?”

“You were just messaging work, no? Always a hardworker, Iwa-chan.”

“Were you reading over my shoulder?” Iwaizumi asks incredulously, ignoring the second half of what Oikawa said. He’s trying to rile Iwaizumi up, and he knows it.

“It’s not my fault if you have your brightness so high and your font so big that someone in space could read your texts.” Oikawa flashes a shit-eating, dazzling grin.

Don’t fall for it don’t fall for it don’t fall for it. “I swear -”

“Are you still at the tech company? Code monkey?”

Iwaizumi tries to rein in his temper. “I’m a team leader for the coding division, and, yes, I’m still with the same company. How about you, space boy?”

“I’m a project leader for a classified project at an aerospace firm in Tokyo,” Oikawa says, nose in the air.

Iwaizumi nods, ready to go back to his music, but clearly Oikawa has other plans.

“Iwa-chan! Tell me about your life.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Please.”

His eyes are pleading, and Iwaizumi almost breaks there. But then he remembers.

“No. Now, I’m going to take a nap. Is that okay with you, Oikawa?” he snaps. He actually isn’t tired at all and has trouble sleeping on planes, but dealing with Oikawa is too much for him today. He doesn’t wait until he gets an answer before turning away from Oikawa and burrowing slightly into the collar of his volleyball jacket that he still wears after all these years.

He doesn’t realize that Oikawa is also wearing his Aoba Johsai jacket.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure when Oikawa really changed, but he thought it might’ve been when he missed the final ball in the last match against Karasuno in their third year of high school. After that game, he was never quite the same. There wasn’t another high school tournament to prepare for, and they were done playing for Seijoh. It marked the end of an era, in a way, and Iwaizumi figured Oikawa didn’t know how to handle it.

The end of third year was rough because of that. They still attended classes leading up to graduation, toured a few universities, applied to universities, got accepted to universities, dropped in on a few practices, but all of that was tinged with a grey cloud of sadness that both of them could feel.

Iwaizumi felt it all bubble up when they had to individually choose where they would be going to university.

One Friday night, they were sitting on Iwaizumi’s bedroom floor, two laptops open, and countless pamphlets and acceptance letters surrounding them as they each tried to decide where they’d attend for the coming year. Oikawa had been alarmingly quiet through the whole time Iwaizumi had been listing pros and cons of his personal top choices - two different schools in Tokyo and one closer to Sendai.

“What’s up?”

Oikawa kept his head down.

“Oikawa.”

He shook his head silently.

“Is the university talk upsetting you?”

He shrugged, still not looking up. His hair was flopped down, so his face was hidden from Iwaizumi’s view.

“You gotta talk to me.”

Oikawa very, very slowly raised his hand and gripped Iwaizumi’s wrist, pulling it toward himself. He still didn’t speak.

Iwaizumi thought he understood, though. “You don’t want to separate.”

Oikawa shook his head violently and hugged Iwaizumi tightly. He felt a wet patch forming on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his friend.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, but it sounded like an empty promise to his own ears.

They sat there for a long time, Oikawa crying in Iwaizumi’s arms, as Iwaizumi tucked his face in Oikawa’s neck and tried not to cry as well.

I don’t want to leave him, either.

But I might have to.

The night of graduation, the two lay in silence on Iwaizumi’s bedroom floor. They’d already been to dinner with their families, already did photos, already took care of their prior commitments, They were free to just spend the evening together.

Oikawa had his head on Iwaizumi’s stomach, and their hands were intertwined over Iwaizumi’s chest. Even for them, it was very intimate, but they didn’t address it. The somber mood in the room was overbearing.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Everything’s gonna change now, isn’t it?”

They’d decided to go to different universities in the same city. They were getting an apartment together. Even though they’d be on different volleyball teams, they’d still be together. That managed to nullify both of their fears of being apart.

“Things are going to change, but what’s never going to change is that you’re my best friend,” Iwaizumi replied quietly. He ordinarily wasn’t the type to say sentimental things out loud, but tonight was different.

Oikawa pulled their conjoined hands onto his own chest and squeezed tight. He shifted his head to look towards Iwaizumi. “Is that a promise?”

Iwaizumi looked down and met his gaze, eyes soft. “Of course.”

“Even if I say something stupid?”

“Always.”

Oikawa turned his gaze away, refocusing on the ceiling fan as he ran his thumb over the back of Iwaizumi’s hand. He exhaled, seemingly thinking through his next words very thoroughly, as if he were scared.

“You couldn’t say anything that would make me not want to be your best friend.”

“Even…” Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. “Even if I were to say I’m in love with you?” The end of the sentence sounded choked, and the squeezing of Iwaizumi’s hand was almost painful - he could physically feel Oikawa’s anxiety.

Iwaizumi used his free hand to run through Oikawa’s hair softly. A giddy smile played at his own lips, and his heartbeat sped up. “Yeah, even then. I love you, too.”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure how long it’s been when he wakes up.

Just in front of him, serving the first row, he sees the flight with carts for the first in-flight meal. Considering this, he assumes he’s been out for an hour or so.

He risks a glance at Oikawa, who he finds looking back at him.

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to - can’t - decipher what the emotion in his eyes is.

“What’s for dinner for you guys? We’ve got vegetarian lasagna and a chicken wrap,” the attendant who’d introduced himself as Sawamura asks.

“Lasagna,” they say in unison. Iwaizumi stiffens, but doesn’t look at Oikawa.

“Great, great,” Sawamura replies, as he grabs the meals and hands them out. “Azumane will be by in a minute for drinks.”

Indeed, Azumane was taking the first row’s drink order. Neither speaks until Azumane has handed them their drinks - Sprite for Oikawa, Coke for Iwaizumi.

“Don’t talk.”

“Iwa-chan -”

The tension snaps. Iwaizumi growls, “I just want to eat my dinner. I can’t deal with you, I can’t deal with this right now, I really can’t. Stop.”

Oikawa swallows slowly and averts his eyes. He draws his left leg up to his chest, careful not to knock the tray table, and hugs it as he peels back the foil on his meal. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.”

He sounds defeated.

Iwaizumi can’t take it. He puts headphones back in.

The first year of university passed fairly uneventfully. There were so many changes, of course, but there were no disasters of epic proportions that Iwaizumi and Oikawa couldn’t work through alright.

They quickly fell into a routine. Iwaizumi would get back to the apartment first because his university was slightly closer, and his classes ended a little earlier. He’d start on his homework, and Oikawa would arrive sometime not long after that. After finishing both of their homework - Iwaizumi was a very good influence to get Oikawa to stop procrastinating - they’d figure something for dinner - usually Iwaizumi cooking. And after dinner they’d settle down in the living room for a few hours.

They spent a lot of nights on the couch in their apartment, a tangled mess of limbs, Oikawa’s head on Iwaizumi’s chest. Usually they’d watch a TV show or movie as Iwaizumi carded one hand through Oikawa’s hair and clasped their hands together over Oikawa’s chest with the other. He spent a lot of nights just playing with Oikawa’s hands, gently kissing his fingertips, appreciating all of the callouses.

Save for a few small domestic spats that were bound to happen to any new roommates or romantic partners, first year passed without a hitch.

Their first anniversary fell on a Saturday, so they had the whole day together. The day as a whole was phenomenal: lazy morning sex, pancake breakfast, sleepy movie afternoon, and fancy dinner.  After dinner, though, Oikawa already had Iwaizumi pushed up against the outside of their door before he’d even unlocked it. He pressed their lips together hotly, like they had so many times before.

Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss but ducked away from Oikawa’s mouth. “Not yet. We’ll get there, though,” he promised and pressed a quick kiss to Oikawa’s jaw to satiate his partner for the time being. They pushed into the apartment, but Iwaizumi didn’t look at Oikawa, instead heading straight for his own bedroom, which had barely been used since they’d moved in - Iwaizumi slept in Oikawa’s room almost every night.

Iwaizumi first unzipped his school bag, fishing around in one of the pockets to find a permanent marker. Then, he opened his closet, sifting through clothes until he found his Aoba Johsai jacket. Still not speaking, he entered the living room, still holding the jacket and marker, grabbed Oikawa’s sleeve, and pulled him into Oikawa’s bedroom. He then found Oikawa’s own Aoba Johsai jacket, ignoring his boyfriend’s questions as to what the hell, Iwa-chan?

Iwaizumi laid both jackets side by side on the bed. “Sit.” Oikawa did, still thoroughly confused. “So, I’ve had this idea for a while, and I thought now would be a good time.” He blushed slightly as he doubted his idea. “I want us to trade jackets.” Oikawa looked confused. “Well - we both still wear them fairly often, and I was thinking that even though they look the same, we’ll always know they’re the others’? Something like that? It’s kinda a stupid idea, I know -”

“I love it.” Oikawa jumped up and cradled Iwaizumi’s face. He was beaming. Oikawa kissed him gently, tenderly, slowly, in the way that he knew Iwaizumi loved most. He pulled back. “What was it you were wanting to do with the marker?”

Iwaizumi still had the marker in his hand where it was holding Oikawa’s face. Nimbly twirling it in his fingers, he replied, “I was thinking we could, uh, write our names in them before trading?” He took his own jacket and folded back the end of the left sleeve, revealing the inside of the cuff, which was thick enough material to not let the marker bleed. “Is that okay?”

Oikawa, who still had the biggest grin on his face, wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s abdomen and kissed his neck. “Of course. You’re such a sap, Iwa-chan. I love this, almost as much as I love you.”

He craned his neck to chastely press their lips together again. “I love you, too.” Iwaizumi turned back to the jacket, and he carefully wrote out HAJIME #4 on one side of the seam, the side that would be closer to the body, and STRONGER with a small heart on the other side. He flipped the cuff right and passed the marker to Oikawa, who wrote TOORU #1 and INVINCIBLE, also with a small heart on his.

“Now, Tooru, let’s pick up where we left off,” Iwaizumi said after they’d cleared the bed, a playful glint in his eyes.

Oikawa didn’t need to be told twice before he was backing Iwaizumi up onto the bed.

Iwaizumi runs his right thumb over the inside of his left sleeve cuff. TOORU #1, INVINCIBLE. He still wears the jacket because he still loves volleyball, still loves the time he had at Aoba Johsai. He remembers all of the time they had together there. The thought makes his throat clog up and weakens his heart. He swallows thickly.

He never thought he’d have to worry about running into Oikawa, especially not while he was still wearing the jacket.

To make matters worse, Oikawa’s wearing his jacket, too.

Nothing’s changed after all these years.

“Iwa-chan, why are you going to London?” He sounds scared.

Weakened by nostalgia, he replies softly, “Vacation.” Pause. “You?”

Oikawa seems taken aback by the question. “Work trip, but I’m going a few days early for a quick vacation.”

“You still wear it.” He nods in the vague direction of Oikawa’s jacket, noticing that he wears the left cuff rolled, exposing the writing from all those years ago. HAJIME #4, STRONGER. He hopes bringing this up isn’t a mistake, but a growing feeling in his gut says it definitely is.

“You do, too.”

Their eyes meet for only the third time in the entire flight. Iwaizumi briefly notes that there are still over eight hours remaining on this flight, so getting into a dangerous conversation isn’t in his best interest. Fuck it.

“Of course I do,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“Most people would get rid of their old partner’s clothes after a breakup,” Oikawa responds. Dangerous.

“Most people do, yeah.” Iwaizumi tries his damndest to keep his voice neutral, to not let his emotions show. Thinking about high school makes you weak. Now look at what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“And you…?”

Iwaizumi averts his eyes. Can’t let you go, but it’s been three years and our relationship fell apart because of me. He can’t say that so he opts for, “Apparently neither of us are most.”

Silence.

“I miss you.” Oikawa sounds scared.

“It didn’t work.” Iwaizumi is blunt.

Oikawa moves slowly, so, so slowly, as he guides Iwaizumi’s chin back to look at him with one finger. Against his better judgement, Iwaizumi allows it. Oikawa’s eyes are watery. “It’s been three years, Hajime. Can we talk about it?”

“It was my fault and you know it. There’s nothing else to talk about,” he says cooly.

“No -”

“Then let’s talk.”

During their third year of university, Oikawa proposed. It was perfect for them. Once every season, their universities played each other, and after that game - Iwaizumi’s team had won, but Oikawa was too nervous to be upset about the loss - he’d stopped Iwaizumi before he could go to get changed out of his uniform. He’d enlisted help from some of his university teammates (shoutout to Kuroo), and got down on one knee right in front of the scoreboard. That part actually wasn’t planned, but the pictures came out amazingly. Iwaizumi said yes, of course.

From there, they moved on with their lives and into their final year of university.

Iwaizumi picked up an internship, which he threw himself into headfirst, and Oikawa started spending even more time in the gym in hopes to get scouted for the national team. There had been eyes on him for the last two years, so this season would be his last chance to prove he was worthy of national play.

They saw each other less and less, but still came home to bed every night, even if it was late.

One week, Iwaizumi snuck into bed at just past midnight, having just gotten in from his internship. Oikawa was just barely still awake as Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around his middle and pulled him close.

“You’re home late again,” Oikawa whispered. It was the third night that week.

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi responded, punctuating the response with a light kiss to Oikawa’s nape. “I’ll try to be home by dinner tomorrow.” Oikawa hummed. “How was practice?”

“Good. I miss playing with you, though,” he said longingly.

“Let’s go to the gym this weekend.”

Oikawa flipped around, bringing them face to face. “Really?” His eyes were shining.

“Really.”

Oikawa surged forward and kissed him deeply, pushing Iwaizumi onto his back and straddling him. Iwaizumi kissed back with just as much fervor - god, he’d missed this with how much he’d been working. “God, I love you,” Iwaizumi mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too,” Oikawa responded, and Iwaizumi’s chest flooded with fondness, just like the first time.

Received, 21:45: hey iwaizumi-san. i’ll be out for the rest of the week

Received, 21:46: i’ll make sure all of my work is finished when i return

Delivered, 21:48: Okay. Is everything alright?

Received, 21:49: yea i had a family emergency come up

Delivered, 21:50: Alright. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.

Received, 21:50: thanks

“Is that work again?” Oikawa asked tentatively. It was a Friday night, and they were laying together on the couch watching one of Oikawa’s favorite movies. It was supposed to be a night for just the two of them since Iwaizumi had been working late every night that week.

“Yeah, sorry,” Iwaizumi apologized and kissed his head. He wrapped his arm tighter around his fiance.

Oikawa found the hand that was still holding his phone and pried it out of his grip. “This is mine now. You said tonight was for us,” he pouted. He was being over-dramatic in a way that was slightly childish in a joking manner, but Iwaizumi could tell he was actually upset. He’d been neglecting Oikawa for the past few months, and it was catching up. “Please, Iwa-chan.” His eyes were pleading Iwaizumi to pay attention, so he consented. Oikawa untangled their limbs and walked to their room, Iwaizumi’s phone in hand. When he returned and sat down a moment later, he said, “You can have it back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi conceded. “I’ll do better.”

Oikawa kissed the back of their conjoined hands. “I believe you.”

It didn’t get better.

It got worse.

“Okay, so we’re leaving tomorrow night to go home, and we’ll stay at my parent’s house. We’re taking the five-fifteen train, and we should be there around nine.” Oikawa was rattling off details about their trip home to see their parents over winter break. The plan was to stay home for a few days and then return to their apartment and spend Christmas Eve and Day together.

Received, 15:04: We need you in the office

Received, 15:04: There’s an issue with one of the processes and the other team leaders are already on holiday

“Tooru?”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need to take a later train. They’re calling me into work.” Iwaizumi looked away in shame.

“But Iwa-chan! We’ve had this trip planned for months!”

“I -”

Oikawa got in close to Iwaizumi’s face. His time at work had been getting worse and worse, and he knew that Oikawa was going to reach a breaking point. “Tell them no.”

He swallowed. He was nervous - what if he got fired?

But - he had an angry Oikawa, and that could end up far, far worse for him.

Delivered, 15:14: I can’t. Tooru and I are leaving for Sendai tonight. Sorry.

Received, 15:15: It’s important.

Delivered, 15:18: I cannot come in. This trip is important to my fiance.

Delivered, 15:18: Sorry.

Received, 15:19: Noted.

That was an awfully ominous response coming from someone at a career level above him, but Iwaizumi hoped it was worth it. Keeping Tooru happy is always worth it.

To: Iwaizumi Hajime

From: Management Team

Subject: Work Dedication Issues

Iwaizumi,

It has come to our attention that you expressed an issue dedicating yourself to your position on an occurrence on 14 December 2020. We are aware that you were recently promoted from intern to team leader, so if the new job requirements were not properly communicated, please let us know so we can direct you to the documentation of your job description. In short, as a team leader, you are required to be dedicated to your work and must be reliable to be called upon. If that is not possible, please let us know so we can begin training a replacement .

Best,

Management Team

Iwaizumi felt sick as he read over the email again. And again.

“Tooru?”

“Hm?” Oikawa hummed as he walked into the living room, where Iwaizumi was sitting on the couch, legs pulled to his chest.

Iwaizumi handed him his phone, open to the email. He watched as Oikawa’s eyes scanned the email, watched as his features set into a hard glare. Oikawa thrusted the phone back at him.

“Are you blaming this on me?” Oikawa demanded.

“I should have gone in that evening. They’re threatening my job.”

Oikawa’s eyes turned from cold to fiery. “And you’re threatening me. I didn’t do anything wrong by asking my fiance to pay attention to me for once and to follow through on plans we’d had for months. ”

“But, Tooru -”

“Hajime. I’ve put up with this for so long.” Oikawa’s face softens. “I know you’re dedicated to your job. But you’ve been forgetting about me. And that’s okay for a while. But not for eight months. I’m tired of it. Please, Hajime, don’t make me make you choose,” he begged, tears in his eyes.

Not for the first time, Iwaizumi saw the toll his neglect was taking on his partner. He felt like he took a sucker punch to the gut. “It hasn’t been ei -”

“It has. I’ve been waiting and waiting for it to get better. I thought it would get better in the summer, and then in the fall, and then at Christmas, but it didn’t.” He shook his head as if trying to clear the tears bubbling up. “I miss you, Iwa-chan. I can take a lot, but I can’t take this much. I need you back. So....” Deep breath. Iwaizumi tensed. He knew what was coming. “It’s either me or the job.”

“Tooru, I can’t just quit my job!” Iwaizumi protested.

Oikawa’s face crumpled. “Then I’ll send Kuroo to get some of my things in the morning.”

Iwaizumi stood and wrapped his arms around Oikawa, who weakly pushed against them. “No, no. I can’t - I can’t - lose you.”

Oikawa pushed away with force. “Oh, baby, you lost me months ago,” he said bitterly. Tears ran down his face as they stood in silence, three feet separating them, as his words sunk in.

Then, he turned and walked to the bedroom. He threw one change of clothes into his school bag along with his laptop and some chargers and toiletries.

Iwaizumi was still in the living room, frozen. “Tooru, don’t -”

Oikawa pressed a kiss to his cheek. He tasted salt. “I love you, Iwa-chan.” And then he left.

Iwaizumi cried.

“You didn’t come back,” Iwaizumi says. He picks at one of the threads on his t-shirt.

“I said I wouldn’t.” Pause. “It took you three weeks to message me.”

Guilt eats at his stomach. “I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.” Iwaizumi debates on how honest he wants to be. If he wants to open this whole box of worms, if he actually wants to try to make the relationship work or to repair a friendship with Oikawa, or if he wants to just give the bare minimum of information. “There was too much I needed to say, so I was waiting for you to come to me. Kuroo said you’d probably come around.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t. Why?”

“Hajime… You hurt me. A lot. Eight months is a long time. Basically from the time you got that promotion until I left, I hardly saw you. And I just progressively got worse. You kept promising you’d get better, but then the next week I’d see you even less.” Deep breath. “I missed you so much. I missed the man who I proposed to, I missed the boy who I confessed to, I missed the boy who I spent all of our school years setting to, I missed my best friend, I missed my boyfriend, I missed my fiance, I missed my partner. I lost all of those, because you weren’t ever there when I needed you. Did you know that I actually got a job offer in Sendai? I debated taking it, but I wanted to wait and see if I could talk some sense into you. I never got scouted for the national team, so I applied for a few overseas teams. I made new friends. And a whole bunch of other things. All of this happened when we were still together, Hajime. I’m willing to bet you didn’t know any of it because of how preoccupied you were with your job. And it’s great that you had and still have such a good job, but…”

“I’m sorry, Tooru.” His fingers clutch at a chain tucked into his shirt that suddenly feels very heavy. Hoping it’s not the wrong choice but mostly moving on impulse anyways, he pulls out the chain, showing Oikawa what’s hanging on it.

He gasps. “You.... You still wear it?”

“Of course.” He bites the inside of his lip. “You never officially called off the wedding.” The engagement ring Oikawa had bought slides along the chain, glinting in the low cabin light. “Tooru… You deserve better than how I can treat you.”

“No.” Iwaizumi snaps his head up to meet Oikawa’s shining eyes. “You treat me like a goddamn king. You just didn’t prioritize us. And that was a problem.”

“I still can’t prioritize. I’ve been talking to work this whole flight,” Iwaizumi mumbles. As if on cue, his phone buzzes immediately, but he ignores it. “But…”

Oikawa sighs. “I don’t think I made a mistake by leaving.” Iwaizumi’s heart plummets. “But I made a mistake by not coming back.” Inhale. Exhale. “But I’m here now. So… Iwa-chan, will you take me back?”

Their eyes meet again. Iwaizumi searches the deep, brown eyes for any sign of a joke. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You’re with the sister company now, yeah?” Nod. “Maybe you can talk to your supervisor about getting some more set hours and less on-call hours? I… I don’t want to live without you any longer. I want to at least try to make it work, Iwa-chan.”

“My supervisor is the one who sent me on vacation,” Iwaizumi chuckles. “We can try. Slowly.” He takes Oikawa’s hands in his own carefully, loose enough that the other can take them out of his grip, and draws the hands to his mouth. He presses a gentle kiss to each hand.

“A true gentleman,” Oikawa laughs. Everything is so, so soft as he cradles Iwaizumi’s face with one of his hands and kisses him. For the first time in nearly three years, Iwaizumi’s heart feels like it might be okay.

Once he pulls away, Oikawa takes the left sleeve of Iwaizumi’s jacket and cuffs the sleeve the same way he has his own, exposing TOORU #1, INVINCIBLE. Then, he laces their fingers together.

“Now, I’m going to sleep,” he announces.

Since he has no objections and is getting tired again himself, Iwaizumi leans over and rests his head on Oikawa’s shoulder, the other resting his head on top of Iwaizumi’s. It feels right.

Hours later, when he reads the message he’d received, it is from his supervisor.

Received, 23:55: If this message sends and your phone is still on while you’re on vacation, I’m disconnecting your company phone

Received, 23:55: Take time for yourself

Received, 23:56: If you connected to plane wifi just to receive work messages, so help me Iwaizumi, I don’t know what to do with you

Oikawa and his supervisor get along very well when they meet a month later.

#iwaoi #my writing #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq #hq fanfic #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #iwaoi fanfic #iwaizumi x oikawa #canon divergent #i guess? #ao3 #post breakup

[sunritual]

Let’s try this again

They should make a law where if the police don’t read you your Miranda rights you get out of jail free, like if you don’t get your receipt at fast food restaurants you get a mail free

The shaggy law - There should be a law that if you continuously and shamelessly deny doing something, no matter how indisputably obvious it is that you did it, you should get off free for pure savegery.

Confederates as “rebels for tradition” is laughable

Ram rainbow spiral horns profile.

People think grammar rules are etched into the universe — they’re not. When people say AAve is incorrect and ignorant, they say that their conception of how one should speak is inherently correct despite no evidence/truth. Grammar is agreed upon not mandated

Hippie sauce infusion pizza joint

Plain nude balconette with little purple and pink flowers at wiring

How could anyone predict anything happening but how could any be surpised either

Hierarchies - nahhhh

Humans aren’t inherently higher than any other creature or thing, but as humans i don’t think it’s wrong to prioritize other humans. There no better or worse but there is optimal for certain environments and lifestyles.

What differentiates a piece of art from a slightly different replica - when is it an entirely different piece altogether? Moving a figure slightly? Adding a splash of paint ? Changing a color to the point where no one could tell? Is the persons perception the deciding factor or what’s actually on the canvas. If abstract art is about the perception, and the waning behind it - does it change with these things?

An exhibit where people are invited to paint over and destroy or change the art

The differences between us and other. Are feeble - not illusory but

Periwinkle sky blue black and white each of a half circle . Faded out

Uni should be about exploring ideas — new and old famillar and foreign - honeing writing reading reasoning debating listening etc skills.

Umm, Karen were your parents married when you were born?

Ummmm no, umm i mean , uh ,yes —what??

Then why are you policing what other people do?

Dark blue light blue orange lemon circles layer on top of each other, several difffent sizes

Job apps tip!! For every job you apply to , Change your last name on your resume to the last name of the hiring manager and they will think you are related to them and hire you with nepotism. ( then, or coarse, legally when you get the job)

Unpopular opinion: i don’t really mind diarrhea

I for one think it’s incredibly brave of the brats girls to reclaim such a derogatory term

Starting every Describtion of every British show with “its kind of like skins but..”

Beanie baskin took that treat she snatched it - she ain’t even askin

The squad bod - a group of ghost friends share one body in which they have to live their lives -

My playlists are a matter of fact, not opinion. They reveal truths about the human experience

A cats gorilla imeritive of aesthetics.

I don’t chose them, they are not for joy but for truth. They are not intelligible but feel able

📝 narrative - longing

👼 chaotic

🌾 childlike wonder

Things that seem homo and phobic ATST

- Woodstock

- Brown eyed girl

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on ya when you think everything BG a gone wrong and everything bows up in your face

If women can’t do drag because they have an advantage then what is drag? Is it having good looking tits and a waist ? Looking like woman? or is it about having charisma uniqueness nerve and talent?

Examining Tik toks through different philosophical lenses

What makes it so they put parenthesis around lyrics in a song? What intonations and such make it parenthesis worthy

What’s an article of clothing from your childhood that you viscerally remember for seemingly no reason

I feel like the problem with the property brothers is they had too good of a childhood

Do you ever wonder if personality traits would be diffferntnin different cultures? Would a quiet person be even quieter if they were brought up in North Korea? Or the same amount of talkativity? Do we have the traits no matter what, or are we inclined to be more of one way than the others around us. Are personality traits created by comparison to those around?

Maybe the anxiety comes from knowing your not “supposed” to be as quiet as you are. You don’t really want to talk, that’s okay , but it’s expected that you do. So you are anxiety that your not living up

I find happiness every single day

This feeling has made me so appreciative of my mental state usually. How many people feel like this on the regular? How many people have this as their default? I am so lucky. My default is happy. I have my issues, but i need to appreciate the gift i was given. I was given elation. Childlike wonder. Curiosity. Adventurousness. Self completion and fullness. The rest will come.

If you see a celebrity you want to talk to in public but don’t want to bother them, make sure they don’t see that you saw them and start a fake conversation telling a friend that they should buy a product they are a sponsor for, and that they should use their coupon code. When they approach you to thank you for being such a loyal fan, obviously pretend to be shocked that they just so happened to be there

Christianity excuses selfish politics and beliefs

Things i never would’ve noticed if they weren’t pointed out to me:

-Left and right handed ness

Rating sports teams by uniform colors

Balloon animals but make it clothing!

Logics doesn’t care about your feelings, but it certainly cares about your biasees.

He who findeth keepith, whilst he who loosith weepith.

Religious thought often starts at the conclusion they want and attempts to make arguments justifying it.

Jewish debate starts with an agreement that we are going to follow the book, but argues about what the book truly says. Not good enough when you are still just following the book

Why did Jesus need to die for our sins

Dream - swimming in a lake and bump into something you think is a human tying to save to but is it! Oct 29 9:03

Candle company logo etc

I’m sorry for your loss

It’s not oka

If people can accept that stupid bad jokes can be

Is there a reason for each thing existing? Sufficient reason

Understanding if an area is a matter of perspective or fact? Is it Emperical ?

If you assume you have free will you limit your critical thinking ability and therefor stour actual free will - you need to navigate technology such as algorithms that show you why at you want to see or you completely loose free will - you cannot chose when you don’t even know a choice. there is Somthing controlling you

Revelation is within it doesn’t involve others - can happen in a moment

Revolution- requires work and years and years of convincing others m

What counts as a second chance? What counts as a first chance? What does giving someone the benefit of the doubt entail ? Letting them out of jail , or letting them have a 2nd term as president.

**Picture of coke or Pepsi book**

Trump supporters be like: THIS is the BALLOt sleepy crooked joe SEND to MY neighbor. So much FOR democracy

One flew over the coup coups nest

Ashge-nazi = Jewish trump supporter

The heathers of the USA are Cali, New York and Texas. Florida, too

Shape shifting would solve all of this. I could go to Washington DC, pretend to be trump, concede then leave. It would be hilarious, however if me and trump looked identical and had to so the most idiotic crazy shit to prove to America that we indeed are the true DJ.

Coup busting outfit - light cute short sleeve camo shirts , army green super utalitarian cargo pants , double sash belts in leather with grommets studs or spikes (to be decided by team (with democracy) or left up to the individual) leather (vegan available) lace up knee high boots (maybe with spikes if not too 2012) and the pies de resistance two army green denim shoulder high gloves that fold down as far as needed for the comfort of the fighter. Will be adorned with patches decided by the wearer. Edges will be frayed to honor to the coup busting aesthetic and spirit of the endeavor. We can decide on a signature lip color, but spf is required for all fighters. Of coarse we will have those football stripes below the eyes, don’t be stupid.

How far away can something be from a face and still have humans think it’s a face

Senator Portman - i hope you are well, and want to thank you for the hard work you have put in to this election. However, it has become abundantly clear that joe Biden and Kamala Harris have secured more than enough electoral and popular votes to warrant recognition as president and vice elect. Upon reading the transcripts of he hopeless court cases, there is absolutely no evidence of vote measurable fraud. is time you stand up for democracy and face reality by congratulating he pair on their success. Americans and scared and they need a powerful republican voice to demounce the unsubstantiated conspircy theories that attempt to thwart democracy in this beautiful county. Please do the right thing , and stand with sanity, freedom and democracy. History books and citizens will thank you. May god bless you, your staff and loved ones

Could mermaids exist through evolution in the future

Me learning about real us history - all the nations destroyed by the USA—- I’m the baaad Guy

The rest of the world - duh dodododosodo

Print that looks like a page of writing that has been sourced in water so it’s bleeding and darker in speckles

Zamps= examples

Clothes with green screen cut outs

Robots don’t need to be sentient to destroy us.

Navy mock neck long sleeves big orange and little white stripe on tube cage sides

A veritcal line stretch waistband

Cross cross and straps back

Square high neck

Scarlet polka dots around can light blue text and beach image as front

Blue stroke red inside square, blue triangle rainbow with eye and funky font

Y either know a particular topic or not , but it’s hard to pin down intelligence on one category

Cream background , ice cream pink script name kinda bev hills hotel script looking ish

Move your mouth in a differ way

Supersonic vibrating butt cleaner

Half magenta half red violet a blue teacup in the center with white floral frills thick serif font

Pink background am orange flower in a vase white present ribbon n red as a table

An app that familiarizes people with science - through experimental learning ― hands on experiences that make it seem less top down and authoritarian , and more like a set of steps that we take, things that anyone can do to get closer with nature and the world

A social media philosophy app - teaches what others said and gives people a chance to express their views , postulate, argue, etc gadfly? How would be avoid a shit show, how can we make social media more humanitarian. how can we care about people while also expressing deeply held ideas , how can we encourage users to examine their deeply held ideas without alienating them. How can we discourage hatred and abuse and groupthink with design? How do we slow people down and encourage them to recognize the human behind the screen. Street epistemology? Socratic dialogue?

Socrates - asking questions. Breaking it down to bits. Deeply understanding their argument. Asking about different possibilities and circumstances. Take vast assumptions and show scenarios that make go against them.

Build fact checking into apps

Narrative self vs experiential

Walks you through steps of the sciefitifc method and encourages you to explain how you feel each step actually helped you- then walks you through a scientist doing the same for their reasarch

Republicans only want to be free in the specific ways that benefit corporations

Are Christians more willing to support the death pen early because they already believe in the cruel and overstepping punishment of hell?

Where did the idea come from that you need to remain impartial when trying to persuade

The idea that there is someone in a similar but different dwelling, hearing similar but different sounds and feeling similar but different feelings is wild

We synthesize sets of traits, and particular actions in a super biased culturally constructed way

With the way we see things as humans- we categorize things into groups that aren’t really reaaal ― paratheletic groups

I just want the people and jobs that benefit society

Connection to nietzsches Dionysian art and eckheart tolle/Taoism

No matter your personality, there is probably a part of the world that you would fit in with naturally.

An ordinary girl is selected as one of the representatives of earth in the first meeting of various alien species after one advanced planet discovered and United 10. Confused as to why she was chosen, she goes on her journey meeting

Wha ba Bada da da da da dada he’s a wha ba ba dadada as a matter of fact it’s not my fault if you came up here thinking that you would win

Wanting to break boundaries and rules for the sake those who are hurt by the rules

You are imagining the best case scenario of the life you want to have and experience Ming the reality of the life you so have.

Yes her drips cosmetics line to students i. Class

Chez it people can goldfish people

Your personality flows where a system needs it to go to maintain balance

[eruden-writes]

Pride & Prejudice & Orcs - Ch. 1

I’ve been working on this for a couple days. I may go back and rewrite this chapter, if I decide to continue this project.

The night had been long awaited. A ball at Lucas Lodge! Precisely, the first ball the new residents of Netherfield would attend. As much as the populace of Hertfordshire attempted to go about their business, making acquaintances and sharing gossip with old and new friends alike, there was an anticipatory buzz in the air. Eyes often drifted to the entryway, hoping for the first glimpse of the newcomers arriving. Even the dancers upon the floor seemed to find their attention drifting toward the door.

Or, perhaps, that was merely Elizabeth’s interpretation. Between her mother and Mrs. Lucas nearly constant chatter on the subject, sharing tidbits they’d learned from their respective husbands, and the rumors brought home by Lydia and Kitty, intrigue had certainly been piqued. The amount of new embellishments - lace, netting, and ribbon - on old gowns seemed more than a coincidence.

“He shouldn’t be hard to spot,” sighed Elizabeth as she stood amongst her sisters. “I heard he’s bringing quite the platoon of gentlemen and ladies.” 

“Four men and six ladies, I hear,” came an excited giggle from Kitty who, moments earlier, had been sizing up potential dancing partners.

There was a quiet smack as Lydia elbowed the Kitty, her voice taking on an almost annoyed tone, “I heard it was six men and twelve ladies.” 

“Either way, too many ladies,” remarked Mary, whose voice dipped low with sarcasm as she turned the page of her book. She, along with her sisters, knew the main delight in the newcomers were the prospective bachelors. Not that she cared much for such trappings. However, the more women there were, the less likely one of the new men were available.

Her words were lost as Kitty and Lydia both gave soft squeals of joy, pushing forth toward a group of friends not far away. Already, the thought of newcomers was forgotten by the two.

“However many he brings,” Jane cut in, her voice soft and filled with a delighted excitement, “I’m certain they will all be well-mannered and lovely.”

Elizabeth hummed in reply to Jane, her lips pressed together in a smile. She didn’t wish to put a damper on her sister’s unerring sense of optimism. It was part of Jane’s charm, so different from Elizabeth’s own demeanor. 

Charlotte Lucas, a homely young woman with a pleasant smile and long-time friend of the Bennet sisters, scuttled through the crowd, an excited smile barely contained on her lips. “They’ve arrived. Three men and two women.” 

“Promising,” laughed Elizabeth, sharing a look with the two sisters who remained near her.

Seconds later, the strangers entered and, with them, came a renewed slew of conversation in the room. So many suddenly animated conversations, so many people enjoying their night and paying the strangers no mind! Attentive eyes followed the party as Sir Lucas greeted and welcomed them.

A man with dark skin - reminiscent of purple calla lilies - and long pointed ears parted from the group, a brilliant smile splitting across his lips. Adorned in well-tailored clothes, that showed off his lanky, streamlined figure, and accessorized with silver jewelry, he carried himself with an air of grace and regality while maintaining a warm smile. With long white locs that fell to his hips and a tattoo of silvery swirls along the right side of his face, the man certainly stood out among the mostly human populace of Hertfordshire.

Charlotte leaned close to the Jane and Elizabeth, her voice dipping quietly, though her eyes lingered on the contingent. “The drow is Mr. Bingley.”

“And the ladies?” Jane’s soft voice barely carried over the renewed conversation around them. Her eyes had flickered to the fashionable women with him, one baring long pointed ears while the other appeared just as human as the rest of Hertfordshire. 

“His sisters, I understand. One is married to the elven man behind them, a Mr. Hurst.”

Behind the drow woman, a well-dressed elven man did, indeed, stand.

Elizabeth minutely inclined her head toward the final newcomer. “And the last?”

Standing ramrod straight with his arms folded behind his back, and taller than the rest of the room, he cut quite a figure. Broad shoulders and musculature pulled his tailored clothes taut, drawing the eye along enticing arcs of his arms and legs. Ice blue eyes contrasted against his laurel green skin, face marked by one long scar along his right cheek. Filed down tusks jutted from his lower jaw, capped with silver adornments. His dark hair pulled into a low bun, his ears hidden beneath the locks.

“That is Mr. Darcy. I’m told he’s one of Bingley’s closest friends.” Charlotte managed to say no more, as her father - Sir Lucas - waved her over. Elizabeth and Jane nodded politely after her, as she skittered to greet her father’s guests. 

When compared to Bingley’s sunny disposition, Darcy’s sobriety appeared detached and standoffish. He gave only the slightest incline of his head and the briefest smile in greeting to Charlotte as Sir Lucas introduced his daughter. Bingley, on the other hand, shot her a smile that could cleave a cloudy day in twain.

The two men were, in a way, a very visceral depiction of night and day, thought Elizabeth.

“Quite a pair, the two make,” she mused, a smile curling at her lips.

“Yes, a very rich pair!” The words announced the arrival of Mrs. Bennet, a stout and soft woman whose gaze could shrewdly size one up in an instant, as she elbowed through the crowd. After the last few days, Mrs. Bennet became a font of knowledge all things Bingley related. From his newly bought estate - Netherfield - to his wealth of five-thousand, you could hardly go an hour without her mentioning something pertaining to the man. This before he even introduced himself to Hertfordshire society!

She leaned close to Jane and Elizabeth, her whisper not quiet enough, “Lady Lucas has told me of Mr. Darcy. He’s of a mighty fortune, twice that of Bingley, and owns a great estate in Derbyshire. Such a handsome man, too!”

“Mamma, please,” Jane pleaded, her voice quiet yet firm in her discomfort of the subject.

Mrs. Bennet gave out a gasp, standing a bit straighter and completely ignoring Jane’s soft spoken reprimand. “They’re coming over. Smile, girls, smile!”

“Mrs. Bennet! Mr. Bingley here expressed an interest in becoming introduced to you and your daughters,” chuckled Sir Lucas, his face ruddy with the heat of the room and delight.

“Sir, how good of you!” Mrs. Bennet gave a curtsy, her daughters following suit. Mr. Bingley bowed deeply, that eternal sunshine of a smile still lighting his features, while Mr. Darcy remained behind him, expression stony.

“Here, we have my eldest, Jane,” Mrs. Bennet motioned to her blonde daughter. Among the Bennet sisters, her beauty and angelic countenance had always been talk of the town. Even now, among the swaths of people, she was a beacon. Mrs. Bennet’s hand flicked toward her oldest brunette daughter, who shared her mother’s shrewd gaze. “And my second eldest, Elizabeth.” 

“Mary is seated in the corner. Such a well-read little thing.” Indeed, Mary had re-positioned herself in a far corner, eyes locked to a book, utterly disinterested in the world around her.

With a final flourish of her gloved hand, Mrs. Bennet indicated toward the dance floor, where a lively jaunt and giggles arose. “My two youngest, Kitty and Lydia, are occupied with dancing.” 

Mr. Bingley’s smile never faded, his gaze flickering from Bennet sister to Bennet sister.

Not one to let the situation teeter away, Mrs. Bennet - a bit louder - inquired, “Do you like to dance, Mr. Bingley?”

“I find it one of the best joys of life, madam,” laughed Mr. Bingley, attention drawn back toward Mrs. Bennet. Somehow, his smile broadened as his lavender eyes moved toward Jane. “If not otherwise engaged, would Miss Jane do me the honor of the next two dances?”

Jane’s expression rippled with pleasant surprise, before she replied, “I am not engaged.”

“May I take that as a yes, then?” Mr. Bingley raised an eyebrow, his lips curling with an almost teasing smile.

“You may,” Jane said with a slight nod, her own lips twitching at the corners.

“And you, sir? Are you fond of dancing, too?” Mrs. Bennet turned her gaze to Darcy, her eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming.

Darcy shot a look at Bingley, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed tight. 

Bingley started at the expression, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he motioned toward Darcy. “Oh! Forgive me. Mrs. Bennet, may I present my friend, Mr. Darcy, to you and your lovely daughters?”

“You are very welcome to Hertfordshire, sir! Do you come with the same eagerness to dance as your friend?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Darcy inclined his head to Mrs. Bennet, his voice deep but tone detached. “I fear I rarely dance.”

“Well, I do hope that changes tonight!” Like a bird, Mrs. Bennet seemed to puff out her chest with pride, looking over the merrymaking. Elizabeth’s gaze followed her mother’s, a warm smile breaching her lips as she found all her neighbors clustered and smiling or dancing to the happy, trilling music. “I daresay you will not find music as lively nor partners as lovely.”

A beat of silence fell between the two and, without another word, Mr. Darcy gave a nod and moved away.

Mrs. Bennet blinked, shocked at his sudden departure from the conversation, her pleasant countenance dropping slightly. 

“Pray, pardon my brief leave, ma’am,” Bingley gasped, giving a brief and polite smile before darting after his friend.

As soon as the two were far enough away, Mrs. Bennet sputtered, “What a disagreeable man!”

“Mamma, he may hear you.” 

“And what if he does?” Mrs. Bennet turned to her eldest, shooting her a righteous look of annoyance. “His friend is everything charming. Who is he to believe he’s so above us, he may excuse himself from our presence without a word of warning?”

Elizabeth sighed, knowing better than to argue with her mother in this mood. She’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same prickle of irritation. Who simply walked off, in the middle of a conversation?

As she turned, to survey potential dance partners, cool blue eyes caught hers from across the distance of the room. Her heart stuttered, realizing Darcy seemed to leer right in her direction. More precisely, the distasteful gaze was upon her mother who had continued her tirade, unaware her daughters were not listening. His attention shifted slightly to Elizabeth, no doubt drawn to her movement.

Unable to do anything else, Elizabeth simply gave a slight nod and uncertain smile. He stared at her, face stony, before Miss Bingley beckoned his attention away. Whether Darcy had truly been focused upon them or not, she couldn’t determine. However, Elizabeth breathed easier as his attention shifted.

If she hadn’t known better, she’d think he could hear their conversation, in spite of the general chaos of the dance. That was silly, though, wasn’t it?

#monster boyfriend #exophilia #exo #orc #pride and prejudice #wip #dry run #not entirely sure I'll continue yet or not #sfw

[forunfeltimaginations]

Let’s try this again

They should make a law where if the police don’t read you your Miranda rights you get out of jail free, like if you don’t get your receipt at fast food restaurants you get a mail free

The shaggy law - There should be a law that if you continuously and shamelessly deny doing something, no matter how indisputably obvious it is that you did it, you should get off free for pure savegery.

Confederates as “rebels for tradition” is laughable

Ram rainbow spiral horns profile.

People think grammar rules are etched into the universe — they’re not. When people say AAve is incorrect and ignorant, they say that their conception of how one should speak is inherently correct despite no evidence/truth. Grammar is agreed upon not mandated

Hippie sauce infusion pizza joint

Plain nude balconette with little purple and pink flowers at wiring

How could anyone predict anything happening but how could any be surpised either

Hierarchies - nahhhh

Humans aren’t inherently higher than any other creature or thing, but as humans i don’t think it’s wrong to prioritize other humans. There no better or worse but there is optimal for certain environments and lifestyles.

What differentiates a piece of art from a slightly different replica - when is it an entirely different piece altogether? Moving a figure slightly? Adding a splash of paint ? Changing a color to the point where no one could tell? Is the persons perception the deciding factor or what’s actually on the canvas. If abstract art is about the perception, and the waning behind it - does it change with these things?

An exhibit where people are invited to paint over and destroy or change the art

The differences between us and other. Are feeble - not illusory but

Periwinkle sky blue black and white each of a half circle . Faded out

Uni should be about exploring ideas — new and old famillar and foreign - honeing writing reading reasoning debating listening etc skills.

Umm, Karen were your parents married when you were born?

Ummmm no, umm i mean , uh ,yes —what??

Then why are you policing what other people do?

Dark blue light blue orange lemon circles layer on top of each other, several difffent sizes

Job apps tip!! For every job you apply to , Change your last name on your resume to the last name of the hiring manager and they will think you are related to them and hire you with nepotism. ( then, or coarse, legally when you get the job)

Unpopular opinion: i don’t really mind diarrhea

I for one think it’s incredibly brave of the brats girls to reclaim such a derogatory term

Starting every Describtion of every British show with “its kind of like skins but..”

Beanie baskin took that treat she snatched it - she ain’t even askin

The squad bod - a group of ghost friends share one body in which they have to live their lives -

My playlists are a matter of fact, not opinion. They reveal truths about the human experience

A cats gorilla imeritive of aesthetics.

I don’t chose them, they are not for joy but for truth. They are not intelligible but feel able

📝 narrative - longing

👼 chaotic

🌾 childlike wonder

Things that seem homo and phobic ATST

- Woodstock

- Brown eyed girl

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on ya when you think everything BG a gone wrong and everything bows up in your face

If women can’t do drag because they have an advantage then what is drag? Is it having good looking tits and a waist ? Looking like woman? or is it about having charisma uniqueness nerve and talent?

Examining Tik toks through different philosophical lenses

What makes it so they put parenthesis around lyrics in a song? What intonations and such make it parenthesis worthy

What’s an article of clothing from your childhood that you viscerally remember for seemingly no reason

I feel like the problem with the property brothers is they had too good of a childhood

Do you ever wonder if personality traits would be diffferntnin different cultures? Would a quiet person be even quieter if they were brought up in North Korea? Or the same amount of talkativity? Do we have the traits no matter what, or are we inclined to be more of one way than the others around us. Are personality traits created by comparison to those around?

Maybe the anxiety comes from knowing your not “supposed” to be as quiet as you are. You don’t really want to talk, that’s okay , but it’s expected that you do. So you are anxiety that your not living up

I find happiness every single day

This feeling has made me so appreciative of my mental state usually. How many people feel like this on the regular? How many people have this as their default? I am so lucky. My default is happy. I have my issues, but i need to appreciate the gift i was given. I was given elation. Childlike wonder. Curiosity. Adventurousness. Self completion and fullness. The rest will come.

If you see a celebrity you want to talk to in public but don’t want to bother them, make sure they don’t see that you saw them and start a fake conversation telling a friend that they should buy a product they are a sponsor for, and that they should use their coupon code. When they approach you to thank you for being such a loyal fan, obviously pretend to be shocked that they just so happened to be there

Christianity excuses selfish politics and beliefs

Things i never would’ve noticed if they weren’t pointed out to me:

-Left and right handed ness

Rating sports teams by uniform colors

Balloon animals but make it clothing!

Logics doesn’t care about your feelings, but it certainly cares about your biasees.

He who findeth keepith, whilst he who loosith weepith.

Religious thought often starts at the conclusion they want and attempts to make arguments justifying it.

Jewish debate starts with an agreement that we are going to follow the book, but argues about what the book truly says. Not good enough when you are still just following the book

Why did Jesus need to die for our sins

Dream - swimming in a lake and bump into something you think is a human tying to save to but is it! Oct 29 9:03

Candle company logo etc

I’m sorry for your loss

It’s not oka

If people can accept that stupid bad jokes can be

Is there a reason for each thing existing? Sufficient reason

Understanding if an area is a matter of perspective or fact? Is it Emperical ?

If you assume you have free will you limit your critical thinking ability and therefor stour actual free will - you need to navigate technology such as algorithms that show you why at you want to see or you completely loose free will - you cannot chose when you don’t even know a choice. there is Somthing controlling you

Revelation is within it doesn’t involve others - can happen in a moment

Revolution- requires work and years and years of convincing others m

What counts as a second chance? What counts as a first chance? What does giving someone the benefit of the doubt entail ? Letting them out of jail , or letting them have a 2nd term as president.

**Picture of coke or Pepsi book**

Trump supporters be like: THIS is the BALLOt sleepy crooked joe SEND to MY neighbor. So much FOR democracy

One flew over the coup coups nest

Ashge-nazi = Jewish trump supporter

The heathers of the USA are Cali, New York and Texas. Florida, too

Shape shifting would solve all of this. I could go to Washington DC, pretend to be trump, concede then leave. It would be hilarious, however if me and trump looked identical and had to so the most idiotic crazy shit to prove to America that we indeed are the true DJ.

Coup busting outfit - light cute short sleeve camo shirts , army green super utalitarian cargo pants , double sash belts in leather with grommets studs or spikes (to be decided by team (with democracy) or left up to the individual) leather (vegan available) lace up knee high boots (maybe with spikes if not too 2012) and the pies de resistance two army green denim shoulder high gloves that fold down as far as needed for the comfort of the fighter. Will be adorned with patches decided by the wearer. Edges will be frayed to honor to the coup busting aesthetic and spirit of the endeavor. We can decide on a signature lip color, but spf is required for all fighters. Of coarse we will have those football stripes below the eyes, don’t be stupid.

How far away can something be from a face and still have humans think it’s a face

Senator Portman - i hope you are well, and want to thank you for the hard work you have put in to this election. However, it has become abundantly clear that joe Biden and Kamala Harris have secured more than enough electoral and popular votes to warrant recognition as president and vice elect. Upon reading the transcripts of he hopeless court cases, there is absolutely no evidence of vote measurable fraud. is time you stand up for democracy and face reality by congratulating he pair on their success. Americans and scared and they need a powerful republican voice to demounce the unsubstantiated conspircy theories that attempt to thwart democracy in this beautiful county. Please do the right thing , and stand with sanity, freedom and democracy. History books and citizens will thank you. May god bless you, your staff and loved ones

Could mermaids exist through evolution in the future

Me learning about real us history - all the nations destroyed by the USA—- I’m the baaad Guy

The rest of the world - duh dodododosodo

Print that looks like a page of writing that has been sourced in water so it’s bleeding and darker in speckles

Zamps= examples

Clothes with green screen cut outs

Robots don’t need to be sentient to destroy us.

Navy mock neck long sleeves big orange and little white stripe on tube cage sides

A veritcal line stretch waistband

Cross cross and straps back

Square high neck

Scarlet polka dots around can light blue text and beach image as front

Blue stroke red inside square, blue triangle rainbow with eye and funky font

Y either know a particular topic or not , but it’s hard to pin down intelligence on one category

Cream background , ice cream pink script name kinda bev hills hotel script looking ish

Move your mouth in a differ way

Supersonic vibrating butt cleaner

Half magenta half red violet a blue teacup in the center with white floral frills thick serif font

Pink background am orange flower in a vase white present ribbon n red as a table

An app that familiarizes people with science - through experimental learning ― hands on experiences that make it seem less top down and authoritarian , and more like a set of steps that we take, things that anyone can do to get closer with nature and the world

A social media philosophy app - teaches what others said and gives people a chance to express their views , postulate, argue, etc gadfly? How would be avoid a shit show, how can we make social media more humanitarian. how can we care about people while also expressing deeply held ideas , how can we encourage users to examine their deeply held ideas without alienating them. How can we discourage hatred and abuse and groupthink with design? How do we slow people down and encourage them to recognize the human behind the screen. Street epistemology? Socratic dialogue?

Socrates - asking questions. Breaking it down to bits. Deeply understanding their argument. Asking about different possibilities and circumstances. Take vast assumptions and show scenarios that make go against them.

Narrative self vs experiential

[angrycowboy]

A couple weeks ago, I decided that for my birthday, I was going to attempt to put together some of my favorite things this fandom has created. I say *some* because this is an incomplete list. There are so many wonderful and talented creators in this fandom that this list would go on forever otherwise. If I have I ever reblogged something of yours, flailed in the tags, reached out to via DM or sent you a message, talked on discord or even Twitter, know that I love and adore not only the things you’ve created, but you yourself as part of this fandom.

And now, without further ado…

FIC

memento by @nielrian

I was obsessed with the idea of coming up with the backstory to the photo we see Michael look at in 1x02. When was it taken? Does Alex have a copy? Did Alex bring his with him to the other side of the world? How often do you think Michael looked at his own copy? And Nicki took a little prompt of mine, and wrote an achingly gorgeous piece about one photograph, and it’s significance to Malex in less than 700 words.

a little something to make me sweeter by @partsofthesamecosmicbeing

Camluca + D.E.B.S. is like a recipe for the perfect fic. I freaking love the movie, and when I saw this fic pop up on tumblr one day? I couldn’t even contain my excitement (seriously, the tags on my reblog were just me flailing wildly because it felt like Ly had reached into my brain and written something I wanted to read before I even knew it myself). Casting Alex as Scud and including Malex in the mix just made me love this fic even more.

And the Sun Rose Red by @michaels-blackhat

A Miluca Kissing Kate Barlow AU? SIGN. ME. UP. I adore Christi, and I adore her writing. One day she was like, “miluca kissing kate barlow au?” and the only appropriate answer to that is HECK YES. Michael/Maria is also a dynamic that just works for this AU, given their canon relationship, and Michael’s penchant for fixing things and Maria’s desire to have someone just be there for her. *runs off to re-read fic*

something broken in this town by @irolltwenties

Okay so, Meagn is one of my favorite people in this fandom. We kinda ramble at each other, and one day this happened where she started talking about the parents. About the relationship Jesse, Jim, and Mimi had as kids, as teenagers, as young adults. How they got sucked into aliens and government conspiracies. How they became the people we see and hear about in S1. If you’ve ever had the privilege of talking with Meagn, you know how amazing her mind is, how she takes these characters and the mere scraps we’ve been given in canon with some of them, and creates entire lives for them, and it’s beautiful.

open up my eager eyes by @haloud

It took me a while to get into Mylex, but apparently it was just because I hadn’t read Hal’s series yet. I’m usually terrible about multi-shipping, but once I find a writer that nails the characters down, I could probably read anything they write. And Hal writes all three of them perfectly. (I mean, Hal is just a phenomenal writer in general, but I digress.)

META

Michael’s bisexuality by @chasingshhadows

There’s been a lot said in the fandom about Michael’s bisexuality and how it’s been portrayed. While the show was airing, I was having trouble finding people who felt the same way I did about how it was being shown - that it wasn’t problematic, but that it was good and accurate. Not to mention that it made me feel seen. I tried writing out what I was feeling but nothing sounded right - until Chasing wrote this piece. It was everything I’d been trying to find the words to express, and it remains one of my absolutely favorite pieces of her writing.

Semiotics of Roswell by @hannah-writes

Hannah did this amazing thing where she took the camera work of RNM and analyzed the shit out of it. And in some moments of doubt, where I was still worried about Malex because of the direction the show had been taking, Hannah’s semiotics (or better known as “Why Malex is Endgame”) pointed out how the camerawork for Malex and Echo is very similar, not to mention deliberate as fuck.

Maria Can’t Catch a Break by @ober-affen-geil

I adore Maria Deluca. She has gotten such a bad rap in the fandom because of the “love triangle” business. But fandom in general has done her dirty in that without removing the shipper goggles it is very hard to see that the show has established Maria as a character in her own right, just as much as it has with Kyle and Alex. And that’s why I love Riley’s meta about everything that Maria is dealing with, what she’s going through, and what it’s been like for her to be the one left behind 10 years ago.

GIFSETS/EDITS

i would know him in death, at the end of the world by @vlamito

I don’t even remember now who told me I had to read The Song of Achilles - it was pre-RNM hyperfixation, but I absolutely loved it (I definitely cried while reading it). And then I saw this gifset, oh mah gawd. Mich just has this ability to find quotes from other media and fit them seemlessly into Malex. And the moments she chooses for her gifsets are utter perfection. I think everyone has probably seen this now, but it’s a gifset I just keep going back to over and over again.

Are you okay? by @maxortecho

So I adore Echo. There is something about their softness, the way they look at each other, the way they act around each other that is just beautiful. Mo made this set, and pointed out in the tags that Liz pushes her arms underneath Max like she’s going to hug him, and it broke me. Like, I thought that scene in the finale was heartbreaking enough, but pointing that out? It hurts and I loved it.

Leading Ladies Appreciation by @lsobelevans

Lucie does some amazing things with color that truly make her edits stand out, and stick out in your mind. And it’s one of the things I love about her gif sets especially - it makes them uniquely hers, her own signature if you will. And this edit is no different - the splashes of color, the texture used for the background, the highlighting of the leading ladies is stunning work. 

Same page/Different book by @bisexualalienblast

Let’s just say that picking ONE gifset of Amanda’s is an impossibility for me, okay? Amanda’s sets are the reason I wanted to learn how to gif - her gifs are beautifully colored, they’re crisp, she always picks the best fonts, they’re smooth, and her ideas are stellar. Anyway, she more recently made this set, which just so perfectly illustrates Malex’s issue IN TWO GIFS. That’s it. Their entire problem in S1, right there. Beautiful.

VIDEO

Juice | Women of Roswell by @isakvaltersnake

Katie is a wizard with the video editing. She’s going to be a force when we’ve got more than one season of footage to play around with. And this video is fun and hot and LOOK AT THE WOMEN. They are smart, they are kind, they are flirty, they have agency, and they’re all hella sexy.

Weird Science | Liz & Michael - Science Bros by @soberqueerinthewild

Hands down, this is one of my favorite videos from the fandom, and definitely one of my favorite things Christina has made (though I basically love everything she does). It’s silly and ridiculous and 100% fun. She found every bit of footage in S1 and matched it to the song perfectly. It’s impossible to watch this video and not smile and laugh - it will instantly brighten your day.

MISC

RNM Texts From Last Night by @audreyblanche

I am slightly biased here, because while Irena came up with the idea, I encouraged her to actually go through with it, promising her that the fandom would enjoy it. So because of that it’s next to impossible for me to pick a favorite out of all the ones she’s done for this series (though the one where we settled on the Camluca ship name, as well as one I specifically requested for Malex come close), and I’m hoping that with the new season (and when she returns from hiatus), she can pick this up again.

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm rec list #also every single person here is a joy to talk to and follow #notso celebrates a birthday #fandom love

[get-your-fics]

Whatever He Wants

Summary: You’re an intern at Wayne Enterprises, and you mistakenly catch Bruce Wayne’s eye.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Warnings: Smut, rape/non-con, sexual harassment, language

You stood in the back corner of the executive-conference-room-turned-work-party with a drink in your hand and your arm folded protectively around your waist. The air was filled with chatter and laughter, and you stared at the clusters of business execs and board members who all got paid ten times what you did. It was supposed to be a casual affair, but casual meant something completely different at Wayne Enterprises than it did to you. You felt out of place in your plain slacks and button up blouse. Everyone was wearing what they had worn to work that day, but that meant the women wore Louboutin stilettos and designer dresses, and the men wore two piece Givenchy suits. It looked like a casting call for New York Fashion Week models more than a work party.

Being an intern, you didn’t have many friends at Wayne Enterprises, especially not ones of this high of status. In fact, your work only ever required you to talk to one person, and you hadn’t spotted him yet...

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” You snapped your head to see your boss Lucius Fox walking up to you. Spoke too soon. “Shouldn’t you be on a coffee run somewhere?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up.” You knocked your shoulder playfully into his.

Contrary to his joke, Lucius was one of the few bosses you had while interning that didn’t make you fetch Starbucks orders or make copies the entire time. He actually taught you things that would apply to your career later in life, and sometimes he would even let you handle projects he oversaw. For someone in this cutthroat line of work, he was surprisingly nice and levelheaded. He never talked down to you or acted you like you were less than him. He treated you more like his coworker than anything, and you severely respected him as your mentor.

He opened his arms, and you gave him a big bear hug. “How are you?” He stepped away. “Why are you lurking in the corner by yourself?” he asked.

“Waiting for you to show up, don’t you know?” you taunted him.

“Oh, I’m flattered.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “But relax tonight. Mingle, meet some people.”

“Right, ‘cause who wouldn’t want to talk to a broke college intern in a room full of world class business execs?” You scoffed.

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the chance to as a tall figure approached. Bruce Wayne strolled up to you, dressed in a black Yves Saint Laurent suit. His jet black curls were parted and slicked, and his dark, brown eyes were sharp like a hawk’s. “Lucius.” He gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Bruce.” He met his gaze before shooting you a look out of the corner of his eye.

Bruce Wayne was an absolute foil to Lucius Fox. He walked around like he owned the place even though he had just recently come into his inheritance of the company within the last year. He would strut into Lucius’s office and completely ignore you most days. On the days he didn’t, he would send you on meaningless errands and talk to you like how an owner would talk to his dog. He claimed the title of advisor and CEO, although he hardly did more than prance around and flaunt his abundance of wealth and condescend to anyone who had the unfortunate displeasure of crossing his path.

He turned his head, and his dark eyes locked with yours, scalding you. “Mr. Wayne.” You clasped your hands in front of you and kept your tone passive and neutral.

His eyes narrowed into slits as he looked you up and down. You felt like you were under examination. “Intern, I have some papers in my office I need filed.”

Your eyes widened. He didn’t just... did he?

“Bruce,” Lucius’s tone was sickly sweet and artificial, a warning, “it’s a work party. Nobody’s doing any work right now.”

He laughed like he had said a joke. “Like she does work any other day of the week? All she does is sit there and watch you type on your computer.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side, and you bit your tongue. He was acting like you weren’t even there. You so badly wanted to tell him off for speaking to you in such a rude manner, but you knew better than to do so. As much as you hated it, he was your boss, even more so than Lucius, and he could have your ass thrown out of the Wayne Enterprises building any time he liked.

“Come on, Bruce. Let her enjoy the party. You should enjoy it too,” he suggested.

His face remained stone cold and unfeeling. He switched his gaze to you. “Let’s go. I’ll show you where they are.”

He spun around on the heel of his polished dress shoe, and you knew better than to disobey him. Lucius let out a sigh next to you. “Have fun, intern,” he accentuated the last word, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, you know I will.” You took one last look at Lucius’s smile full of blinding white teeth and chased after Bruce. You hurried to close the distance between the two of you before he could realize you had tarried.

You turned out of the conference room and into the hall as you followed him. Your flats slapped against the glossy, marble floors as you approached the elevators. He jammed the button displaying an up arrow with his thumb, and a second later, a resounding ding sounded as a red light flashed above the elevator to your left. The sleek, metal doors of the elevator slid open.

He placed his hand on your lower back. “Get in.” You stiffened under his touch. His hand moved down until it was resting just above the curve of your ass. You were about to step out of his grasp when he gave you a nudge with his hand towards the elevator.

You caught yourself on the frame of the elevator door before you could tumble. You thought you heard a deep chuckle behind you, and you gritted your teeth before walking into the elevator. He got in beside you, entering with grace and elegance, and hit the button for the top floor of the building. It lit up as the doors clicked into place, and the elevator jolted as it started its ascension.

Silence settled over the elevator, and you could feel it eating you up inside. You fidgeted and shifted your weight from foot to foot as Bruce stood beside you, stoic. The prospect of spending time alone with him made dread form deep in the pit of your stomach, although you didn’t mind getting away from the party. You were slightly grateful for having an excuse to escape, if only he hadn’t have been that excuse.

The elevator halted, and a moment later, the doors opened. Bruce stepped out first, and you followed after him on instinct. You walked down a corridor before stopping in front of a tall door. He fished his keycard out of the pockets of his suit pants and swiped it through the scanner. The red dot changed to green, and he turned the handle without a problem. He pushed the door open and stood to the side, gesturing you inside.

You walked into his office. All of the lights were off. He stepped in behind you and let the door fall shut. With a flick of his finger on the light switch, the dim, overhead lights cast a warm, yellow glow down on his office. You had never been in here before, but it looked just how you expected it would. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases, the shelves filled with neatly stacked, color coded books. A grandiose, black desk was in the middle of the room, a overstuffed, tufted desk chair on one side and a plain one on the other. You assumed whoever had sat in the plain chair was either really lucky or really unfortunate. But the most breathtaking part of his office was the wall behind his desk that consisted of large windows looking out onto Gotham City’s skyline. You could see every neon light, every digital billboard, and every headlight of the cars stuck in traffic several levels below your feet. You wanted to press your hands and face to the glass and stare out the window all night, but resisted the urge to.

“You have a beautiful view,” you broke the silence, your voice wavering.

Bruce didn’t say anything. He merely walked past you, and you swore you felt his hand brush up against your ass. But it must’ve just been your imagination. You shook off the feeling as he got out a stack of loose papers piled a mile high. He dropped it onto the desk with a solid thud.

“Here’s the papers.” He maneuvered around the desk and pulled out the bottom drawer. “And here’s where you can file them.”

You walked over and peered down at what he was talking about. The bottom drawer of the desk was a built in filing cabinet. It was separated by multiple dividers all a different color. They each had a tab with a letter going from A to Z in bold, black font and a manila folder behind each divider.

“I want all of them sorted by the first letter of their last name.” He put his hands on his hips. “Think you can manage that?”

You quirked a brow, but his face was hard and unreadable. Was he joking? You learned how to do this in middle school. “Yeah, I can,” was all you said, however.

“Good. Then get started.” You thought that he would leave, but he remained stationary where he was.

You grabbed a paper off of the top of the stack and scanned it with your eyes. It looked to be contact information of some sort. You found the person’s last name and bent over the filing cabinet. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw Bruce lean over as well, as if he was trying to get a peek down your shirt. You fixed your blouse so it covered more of your cleavage and shrugged it off. You were just paranoid, and now your mind was playing tricks on you. You searched for the corresponding letter and filed the paper into the appropriate folder.

You still felt his presence behind you. Maybe he was just trying to make sure you knew what you were doing. He didn’t trust you to file a few papers correctly? “Like that?” you asked, hoping the slight edge to your voice made it clear you wanted to be left alone.

“Yeah, just like that,” he answered. His voice sounded breathier and lower than it had before.

That’s when you felt it: two hands on your hips, and something hard brush up against your ass. You immediately retracted and turned around, your back bumping into the desk. You stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?”

Unfortunately, your position allowed him to trap you between him and the desk. “You’re such a tease, you know that?” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed an openmouthed kiss to your neck. “Walking around this office with your nose in the air like you’re better than everyone, like you’re better than me.”

He nipped at the skin on your throat, and you squeaked. You grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him back far enough so he wasn’t touching you. What was he talking about? He was the one who thought he was better than everyone! “I... I think I should go.”

You made to slip between him and the desk, but he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and jerked you back. “You’re not going anywhere, not until I show you where you belong.”

You furrowed your brows. “What are you doing?” It was becoming increasingly hard to hide the panic in your voice. You tugged against his hand on you, but his grip held strong. “Let go of me!” You struggled to break out of his grasp. “Help!”

“Go ahead, scream. Most of the floors below us are empty. No one will hear you.” He pushed you back against the desk and held your body flush against him. His erection was now painfully evident as it strained against the fabric of his pants and poked you in the stomach.

Your eyes widened with fear as you realized no one was coming to save you. Now that flight was no longer an option, you decided to fight. You raised your free hand and clawed at him with a snarl. However, he caught your hand before it neared the smooth, pale skin of his cheek. Your vengeful expression fell, and his lips curled into a devious smirk.

“We’ll have to work on your behavior,” his hold on your wrists was tightening, his fingers painfully digging into your skin, “especially towards your boss.” He leaned in and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent. His hips bucked against yours, and you yelped when you felt how hard he was.

“I’ll... I’ll tell someone!” you threatened, your voice shaky and uneven. “I’ll tell-”

He reared back. “Who are you going to tell? Lucius?” he cut you off. “He can’t do anything. Besides, I’ll just fire you, and you’ll look like you’re making up shit to save face.” He took the skin of your neck between his lips and sucked, clearly aware of the power he had over you.

You bit down on your lip to hold in any moans that wanted to escape as your body tensed against him. You didn’t want to lose your job - couldn’t lose your job. It was the first internship you had found that you had actually enjoyed, not to mention being an intern as a freshman in college at Wayne Enterprises was a major feat. You knew you would have to give into him eventually. It was inevitable; he was Bruce Wayne. Everything got handed to him on a silver platter. Anything he wanted, he got, no matter the cost.

“Please, don’t fire me,” you squealed. You despised how pitiful and helpless you sounded.

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands. “Oh, you want to be a good girl for me now?” You were forced to stare directly into his eyes. They were dark with lust, and his pupils were extremely dilated. They looked completely black.

You sucked in a breath before your next statement. “What will you do for me if I do?”

He grinned like a wolf barring its teeth. “Now, you’re talking.” He moved his leg in between yours and pressed his thigh right against the sensitive area in your crotch. You gasped at the pleasure that ran through you like a chill as warmth pooled in your gut. “I’ll double your salary,” he rocked against you, causing his thigh to rub your clit, “and guarantee you a job in four years time.”

“Do you like doing this?” You tried to seem tough despite your wavering voice. “Forcing yourself on vulnerable interns?”

He chuckled at that. “Lucky for you, you’re my first. There’s just something about you I find so... irresistible.” He ran this thumb over your bottom lip, and your jaw went slack. You were the same age, but right now he seemed so much older than you. “So, do we have a deal?”

You were absolutely aching now. As much as you hated the wetness that gathered in between your thighs, it was growing unbearable. You didn’t think you could stand it any longer, and his offer was pretty much impossible to pass up on. Securing a job at Wayne Enterprises would set you on a good career path for the rest of your life.

You nodded. “Okay.” Your voice cracked.

His grin widened, and his eyes darkened until they swallowed all light that hit them. “Good.”

He crashed his lips against yours. You were so taken aback that you bumped back into the desk, causing the stack of papers to crash to the ground. They scattered across the floor, and some floated in the air before slowly descending and coming to rest. He didn’t seem to care and continued to move his lips against yours. You closed your eyes and tried to relax into the kiss. He tilted his head to the side and slipped his tongue into your mouth, quickly gaining dominance over yours. He tasted like whatever drink he had been sipping on downstairs at the party: sweet, but bitter. You loathed the fact that you enjoyed the taste and found yourself yearning for more.

He disconnected your lips, a flush of red across his pale features and one dark lock out of place on his forehead. “Get on the desk,” he whispered huskily, his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You did as he said and grabbed the lip of the desk, pushing yourself on top of it. You laid down on your back and hugged your knees to your chest. You caught sight of the red marks he had left on your wrists and rubbed at them. You rolled out your sore wrists, knowing you would find bruises there later.

He grabbed your blouse and tore it open, causing buttons to pop off and fly everywhere. You listened as they bounced off of the desk and onto the floor. He covered the cups of your bra with his hands and left a trail of wet kisses over the swells of your breasts. He moved his hands lower to the zipper on your pants. He pulled it down and practically ripped your pants and your underwear off of you. He pushed your legs apart, and you became aware of how exposed you were. You felt like you were on display for him.

He stared down at your pussy like he was mesmerized and ran a finger through your folds. “You’re so wet, all for me.” You felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. He slipped his finger inside of you, and you gasped as the burning stretch gave way to pleasure. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”

He got on his knees and wrapped his lips around your clit as he continued to pump his finger in and out of you. The sensation was too much for you, and you couldn’t stop the filthy stream of expletives that spilled from your lips. You needed something to grab onto, so you threaded your fingers through his hair. He moaned against you as you roughly yanked on his dark curls, the vibrations only aiding the arousal pulsing through you.

Just as you felt your climax building, he pulled away. You almost whined at the loss, but stopped yourself by biting down your tongue. He ran his tongue over his lips, licking your juices that dripped off of his chin, and sucked your slick off of his fingers. He shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened the tie around his neck. Then, he reached down and undid his own zipper. You watched as he pushed his pants and boxers over his hips, freeing his straining erection. You got a good look at just how big he was, precum dripping off of the red tip.

He leaned over you so his face was mere inches from yours. You felt the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushed in, and a squeak fell from your lips. You felt like you were being pulled apart in different directions. You sat up on your elbows and spread your legs wider to alleviate some of the tension. He pushed you back down and pressed his chest flush against yours. He finally pushed in to the hilt, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out of you only to thrust back in with a sharp snap. You yelped, your walls still too tight to accommodate him comfortably. “Relax, intern,” he purred, his tone strangely soothing. He planted one arm on the desk next to you to steady himself as he set a pace. “Fuck, I knew you’d feel amazing.” Sweat gathered on his brow as his lips parted in rapture. The sight made your stomach crawl, and you looked away. He grabbed your chin, squishing your cheeks, and turned your head back to face him.

He forced you to stare into his eyes as he fucked you. They were like two blackholes, endless, bottomless voids that you could fall into. He pounded into you faster now, and you could feel your orgasm starting to build once again. His white button up clung to his chest with sweat where your bodies met, and the creaking of the desk under your weight filled your ears. Your breaths came shorter now, and there was no stopping your desperate mewls. He grunted in time with his thrusts, the head of his cock hitting that spot in you just right each time he pushed in to his max.

You were on the cusp of your orgasm as you latched onto his shoulders. “Are you going to cum for me, intern?” he almost sneered at you.

You wanted to curse him out, but found that your brain couldn’t form any words. All you could do was let out a breathy sigh and nod your head. You locked eyes with him as your pussy constricted around his cock, drawing a high-pitched whine from you. Your juices spilled out of you and coated your thighs as you came. You arched your spine, the back of your head painfully connecting with the desk, and curled your toes as every nerve ending in your body was set on fire. You raked your nails up his back under his shirt, leaving goosebumps and red, irritated skin in your wake.

He groaned and sped up. “Gonna fill you with my cum,” he muttered and licked at your breasts. “You want that, intern? For me to cum inside you?”

You couldn’t say anything; you were still coming down from your high. He growled and pushed your knees up by your shoulders. He thrust into you all the way as he came, spilling his warm seed into you. He stilled on top of you, his thighs twitching and his face frozen in ecstasy. Then he pulled out of you, and you could feel his cum drip out of your sore pussy.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your hair. You both stayed like that for a moment as you recovered from your climaxes. Then, he pushed himself up and covered your face in kisses. It was a strangely sweet and intimate gesture for the harsh fucking he had just done to you.

He got completely off of you and pulled his pants up, zipping his fly. You slowly sat up, your head spinning. You looked for your discarded pants on the floor and eventually located them through your blurry gaze. You reached for the lacy underwear sitting on top, but a hand snatched them out of your grasp before you could get to them. Bruce brought them up to his nose and sniffed, a mischievous smirk coming over his face. “Consider these assurance of our agreement.” He dangled them from his finger tauntingly before stuffing them in his back pocket.

You grimaced as you pulled on your pants, the material sticking to your legs. You didn’t know why you were getting dressed; there was no way you could go back to the party looking how you did. Your hair was mussed, your lips red and swollen, and you were covered in sweat and saliva and cum. You looked thoroughly fucked, and everyone would know what you were up to with your boss in his office. It wouldn't be hard to come to some conclusions.

Speaking of... “So, when will I get my raise?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible. You tried to casually lean back against the desk. You could see an outline of your entangled bodies in sweat on the surface.

You watched as he adjusted his tie. “Probably by the end of this weekend.” He fixed the collar of his button up. “However, it is going to come directly out of my personal bank account. Not that that’s a problem, but I think that I should be the one getting the benefits of your hard work instead of Lucius.” He smoothed out the fabric of his shirt with his hands. “So you’ll be interning under me for now on.”

Your heart sank to your stomach. “Wha... what?”

He smirked. “You heard me, intern.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his chest, pressing a kiss to your matted hair. He had gotten the last laugh. “It looks like me and you will be working very, very close together.”

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #dark!bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #dark!fic

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter One

A/N: Okay so I’ve literally had this in my drafts for the last...six months or so? And I figured I’d tweak it and edit and post it since I’ve been so AWOL on this site lately, and so that I can give you guys some new content from me.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy cursing. This chapter is pretty PG, talks of mental illness, unexpected pregnancy and contemplating abortion- but she doesnt go through with it. Smut to come. AND LOTS OF FLUFF TOO, I promise lol

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story 

Chapter 1/6: The Baby Woe’s and Oh No’s

You knew it.

You’d known something was off, different, changed.

You sit on your toilet, your world spinning as you attempt to wrap your mind around what was going on. Everything seems sludge like, too slow and too fast and not real.

You’re definitely going into shock, you point out to yourself. The catatonic kind. You’ve been staring at the bright, sunny lemon print of the shower curtain, your eyes focused but not seeing. Your elbows rest on your knees and your hands cover the entirety of your lower face.

At least you’re not crying anymore. 

Nope, your body had moved past that-Maybe, it felt like the tears could start rolling again at anytime.

Oh god, what are you going to do?

Why, why, why?

Why you? You’d been a good person- well a decent person at least… You recycled and tipped more than twenty percent. Didnt vote for Trump and ate your vegetables.

And your life was just seeming to even out. You’d somehow landed your dream job a couple months back- every Wednesday night your voice could be heard on WNEX. You we’re making enough money to finally be comfortable- doing what you loved. Gaining a wide audience and wiggling your way into the industry. Your mind was so career oriented, so focused on your end goal that you’d never even considered something like this.

Throwing a big fat wrench in the gears.

One night, it had only been one stupid, drunken night. Hadn't you racked up enough karma coins to cover your ass for one fucking night?

Are you there god? It’s me, Y/N, and I really fucked up this time.

Wanda comes back into the tiled room a few minutes, her dark features soft and a colorful mug in her hand.

“Are you okay?” She gauges, gently, as she reaches out to you.

You snort and shrug, but accept the steaming cup from her anyway. You look down at the swirling, murky drink.

Wishing for just one moment that you could drown yourself in it.

“Look, babe, I know you’re dealing with some major shock right now- but maybe you should go lay down. We’ll figure it out later-” Wanda’s voice is even and you appreciate her being so calm and sure during all of this but you just can't process the situation enough to accept it.

You can't go lay down.

“Why not?” Wanda questions and you didn't realize you’d said that out loud, you hadn't even felt your mouth form the words.

Your head really is swimming. Disconnected from your body a little bit. You force yourself to take a drink of the tea as she gives you a more pointed look.

“Because I have to- I don't know. I have to figure all this out” You protest. You can't hear your voice, how spiked with anxiousness it is.

“There’s not much to figure out” Wanda supplies, unhelpfully as she leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest and you give her a look that’s half between a glare and a gape.

“Um, what the fuck do you mean? There’s so much to figure out, I don't even know where to start” You give a short, sharp, slightly hysterical laugh gripping the mug hard enough to hurt with one hand while cupping your forehead with the other.

“Okay, first things first. And this is the big one: do you want this?”

Well, that whole ‘I'm done crying’ thought you’d had before was a lie. You feel the tears well up once more and overflow, spill down your already swollen cheeks. Your face is hot. Your tummy is full of rocks.

You’d always hated crying. It never made you feel released or freed or lighter like it did for other people. It made you feel icky and stupid. And afterwards it always felt like you’d gotten punched in the nose.

Yes, you did have a therapist to work out those issues with, thanks.

Your mind doesn't know what to do with that question.

You look at Wanda, searching her face as though she might have the answers but she just shook her head and reached out her hand to rub your shoulder. That’s all she could offer. Her support in whatever path you we’re about to embark on.

And then you look down, at the countertop. That was usually littered with stray tubes of mascara or straightening irons. Bobby pins and half lit candles. All the things that resided in the bathrooms of girls in their mid twenties.

In place of those was now four pregnancy tests. All of which read positive.

The first two had been those double lined ones. Two bold lines- both times. Then you’d ran down to the bodega at the end of the block and gotten two more. And those we’re more straight to the point. They literally read the word pregnant- in a font that you don't think you’d ever forget.

Did you want this? Did you want a baby?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I dont know- I’m not ready. The timing is all wrong” You croak.

“Okay” Wanda coo’s “well there's alternatives then-” you squeeze your eyes closed at that thought “Either way we should make a doctors appointment to make sure you’re actually pregnant. I’ve read so many stories about how unreliable these things are”

She holds up one of the tests and rambles on about all of the online articles she’d come across. How some woman had taken a dozen of ‘em, gotten all positive results and then went in and had an empty uterus.

“For one, ew. I peed on that” You nod your head at the test in her hand and she rolls her eyes.

“Other side of it- and I held your hair when you got food poisoning from that shrimp shack. I’ve come into contact with worse body fluids of yours”

“For two- I’m pregnant. I know it. I’ve known it for weeks. I knew something was wrong and I just tried to...think it away, you know? Out of sight, out of mind? I sound insane” saying the words out loud makes you realize how...ludicrous those thoughts had been. But still. It was the truth.

She just nods though “You don't”

There’s a moment of silence. Stretching, as you stew in your reality.

“I’d be doing it alone” you whisper into the mug as you sip on it “I really dont think he’d want a baby”

“You would never be alone, you know that. You have so many people in your life that would support you with this” Wanda protests, sad that you’d even say that.

“You know what I mean” You push on. Because having a good group of friends and family wouldn't change the fact that you were possibly looking at the possibility of being a single mother.

If you decided to keep it, that is.

“Yeah I do- and I don't know if I agree with that. Bucky's a lot of things, an arrogant asshole at that top of that list, but he’s a good guy and I think he’d want to be involved. He doesn't give off deadbeat dad vibes”

All of that was true. Bucky is a good guy, at the core of him.

He was kind and decent and the two of you had been friends for years upon years. He was charming, magnetic and women loved him- you’d found it amusing, before you we’re the one in his bed after a drunken night a month ago.

He’d left your messages mostly on seen since then. You’d only sent a few, but still that had stung. Him icing you out the moment he’d gotten into your pants pissed you off, not only because it was rude but because it was expected.

You knew how Bucky was with women, it had been such an idiot move to sleep with him.

It made it all the more complicated that you ran in the same social circles- had all the same friends. Sam’s small promotion dinner a couple weeks ago had been extremely awkward for you, to say the least.

He’d earned himself the cold shoulder from you and no matter how many times he’d try to broach a conversation with you, crack a joke in your direction, or single you out in a group conversation you pretended he didn't exist.

“Damn, re-jec-ted” It had been so obvious that Clint had of course pointed it out, which was uncomfortable but expected because Clint had no filter like that.

Bucky had stopped trying after that- and started flirting back with the waitress that had been throwing herself at him throughout the night. You cut out early, claiming tiredness. And upset stomach. Whatever to get you out of there.

To say it was a shitty night was a bit of an understatement and you hadn't spoken one word to him since.

“I haven't talked to him since that night- and now I’m what, supposed to call him up and tell him I’m carrying his child because he doesn't properly know how to operate a condom?

“I don't know, yeah? It doesn't mean you two need to get married, but if you choose to keep this baby, that’s going to be a conversation you’re going to have to have” Wanda is so annoying sometimes. She was such a sharp thinking human- always grounded and level headed. She claimed it was from always having to be the “good twin” growing up.

Of course she was rationalizing this whole thing while you we’re floundering about it like a fish.

“I think I should make a doctors appointment” You just mutter. You’d rather focus your attention there. It was easier, cleaner for you. A goal you could actually accomplish.

And so that’s what you did.

//////

They were able to get you in at the end of the week, which in overpopulated New York City was a godsend. And still, it felt like far too long. Like the reality of it couldn't sink in until you talked to a medical professional so you we’re left in some kind of fucked up long until then.

You tried to keep your anxious mind busy, throwing yourself into work. Talking to people over the static airways of the radio about their lives; about the world and all of its workings was so much easier than talking to anyone about what was going on with you.

The only person who knew was Wanda and you’d canceled all of your other plans during the week, not able to face anyone. Not yet.

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. Thinking until your brain physically hurt.

And then you’d turned to you journal- maybe if you wrote everything down it would make sense. If you could see it all, inked out, you could make a decision.

Did you want this child?

Wanda had suggested making a pro’s and con’s list and while it sounded crazy and unhelpful, and you rolled your eyes at it ‘As though that will help’, you ended up doing it anyways.

You start with Cons, naturally. Always had been too damn negative.

Cons:

-I have no fucking idea how to be a mom

-Bucky???

-My job. My career. Who’s going to watch the baby while I work?

-How in the fuck am I going to financially support a baby.

-No room in the apartment/My room is fucking tiny and where will we put a baby

(Wanda said we can turn half of the living room into a playroom/makeshift nursery. How fucked up though? Not even a real nursery)

-No car? A baby on the subway? No thank you.

-Weird to explain to people even if Bucky wants to co-parent. All our friends??

-PAIN

-Pregnancy looks so painful. Birth looks scary. My poor vagine.

-Life is basically over

-The baby will not have a grandmother from your side...

You could keep going on, but you decide to stop there. You could go on, make the list pages and pages long but you decide against it.

Pros:

-I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Always dreamed of babies and motherhood, baby fever crashes over me in waves.

-Me and Bucky’s baby is going to be cute AF(and that just pure facts)

-I have a great support system- amazing friends and family who I know will help

-Bucky could want to be involved. He probably will...maybe?

-He has a big family, i think. The baby would have lots of family

-I don't want to have an abortion. All about pro-choice, but I just...don't know if I can.

That had made you bite the end of your pen.

Adoption?

Could you give a child that you went through nine months of pregnancy up for adoption? Knowing yourself- probably not. You cant even get rid of the moth hole ridden clothes at the back of your closet. Not comparing a baby to a jean jacket- fuck, see how unequipped you were for this?

-I’d be a good mom(I think)

-I could swing it financially. Maybe get a second job

-At least I have a good insurance plan now

-My life might have more of a purpose?

You hide the lists away in one of your many journals. Stick it in the wicker basket under your night stand- and revisit it too many times in those days between.

You make a lot of other lists in that time, too. 

//////

One of them sits tucked in your purse as you make your way to the eighth floor- Arms folded across your chest and the inside of your bottom lip speared between your teeth as the elevator takes you up.

Wanda stands beside you, of course. Sipping on her iced americano. You’d tried to tell her that she didn't need to come, that you were perfectly okay with going on your own. You’d gotten about two words out before she shut you down-

“I already took the afternoon off, don't be ridiculous”

You both know you wouldn't admit it, stubborn as you we’re, but you’d let out a big sigh of relief. You really didn't want to do this alone.

The waiting room is standard for this building, looks similar to the one that you sit in when you see your GP- save for a sign hanging about the door that labels it the OB-GYN.

Fake plants and those standard waiting room chairs that had that weird diagonal print on them TV’s that we’re playing the local news and tables stacked with months dated magazines. There was no windows though and it made the back of your neck feel hot.

The receptionists is nice. Middle aged with mild with droning, mellow voice. She checks you in fast and efficiently and tells you that you’ve got about a 15 minute wait on your hands.

Annoying, you think even though you give her a big grin and a sweet ‘thank you’. You’d been right on time. Why in all offices of all kinds is there always a fucking wait?

Wanda has plopped down on a chair in the corner and is fingering through an issue of LIFE, her long legs crossed at the knee. you sit next to her. The office air conditioner is blasting, it had been a muggy May in the city, but you feel overheated. You let the chunky cardigan you’d donned slip down one shoulder, exposing your skin to the chilly air.

You should feel the cold but you’re over heated. Nervous as hell. Why doesnt anyone else in this office seem nervous?

You tend to people watch when you get overly anxious like you are now. Tend to take in every little detail of every little thing around you.

There’s a black couple- the woman doesn't look pregnant but they’re holding hands tightly and they keep whispering to each other. He smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. Then there’s a Latina woman who looks just about ready to pop and is reading one of the kids book to a little boy with her eyes. A white lady, with twin carriers rocks them gently as she chats with a woman who looked to be related to her, maybe. Older and graying.

You feel like a creep but you can't stop looking at them all. Staring at each of the people who are at different stages of the same  life-path you found yourself on.

Wanda clicks her tongue as her dark eyes focus on the magazine. Muttering, her accent thick, about how the lenses they used for the shoot on the page was all wrong.

Her photographers eye was snobby and elitist.

“Y/N?” The nurse calls you back, not butchering your name which is nice and look over at your best friend.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you?” Wanda whispers, big gingerbread eyes searching yours and you shake your head quickly.

You had to do this, on your own. What if...what if you ended up having to do this whole thing alone? You had to be grown, had to face this solo. That’s just how you felt, even if it might not be true.

“It’s just another appointment- I can do it on my own. I’ll live” there's a reasoning lilt in your voice that she doesn't quite buy but she nods all the same. Tells you that she’ll be waiting right there for you as you muster up all your courage and train your face into a smile, following the nurse into the back offices, the door mechanically closing behind the two of you.

The OB’s office is...warmer then you’d thought it would be. Her desk has frames of all types and her walls are plastered with colorful posters, making the alabaster of the wallpaper less daunting. There was even a window in here.

You’re perched up on the exam table/ chair thingy, staring out at the tall buildings across the street, at the people moving fast below on the sidewalks. You wonder what all of them are doing? How many of the have kids?...

When there’s a soft knock at the door your attention snaps back to the present.

Doctor Helen Cho is a petite Asian woman. She has glossy dark hair that's tied up in a clip high on the  back of her head, and her voice is friendly and her expression open as introduces herself to you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, too” You sound so much surer and more confident then you feel. It had always been your party trick- meeting new people and being able to talk to them. Leaving trails of barley there acquaintances in your wake.

“So it says here that you think you’re pregnant, yes?” She gets right to it, and your appreciative for it.

“Yeah, I know I am.  I took four tests and they all came out positive and I...I feel really off” you try to explain it, poorly but she seems to understand.

“When you say off, do you mean like bad feeling off or?” She probes as she sits at her desk, swivels her chair to face you. Her chocolate almond eyes weren't piercing or clinical, just waiting.

“Not really bad? But I’ve just been so tired lately and I’ve had like, zero appetite. And my breasts have been so sensitive that it hurts to put on a bra” as you tell here these things you could slap your head for not assuming you were pregnant before you’d taken the tests.

Dr. Cho hums and nods as she looks over her tablet “Well from the look of these results from those blood and urine tests your nurse went ahead and gave you when you came in, I can tell you that you are definitely about nine weeks pregnant- so those symptoms are right on with where you are”

You inhale and exhale, bigly. It’s real. It’s been real, was a notion, a happening but now...it’s so freaking real.

And there's a real life changing decision to be made-

That you’d already made before you’d even walked into this office but now seemed even clearer. Crystal, in that moment of clarity.

“I want to keep it” Your confident as you say it. Your voice cracks with some kind of emotion you couldn't even begin to explain, but you’re confident. You’re sure.

Dr. Cho grins at you, and stands, congratulating you then, after she’s sure you even want a congratulations. You like her, think you might.

It’s hard to focus on her voice though because all your mind can think of is the next big obstacle, the next big step in all of this.

How were you going to tell Bucky?

Okay guys? I posted? Crazy right? lol give me some feedback! Comment and tell me what you thought of this. I absolutely love interacting with you guys, but I’m sure ya’ll know that. 

Also- the taglist for this story is still OPEN, so if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters just ask!

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @brieannakeogh @gifsbysimplysonia @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si 

#Bucky Barnes #thick bucky #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #pregnant!reader #pregnant reader #Modern AU #marvel #wanda maximoff #plus size reader #Steve Rogers #clint barton #avengers au #fluff #and angst #fluffy angst #unexpected pregnancy #Carol Danvers #MCU