Summary: After leaving your assassin life behind, you seek a new life to forget your past. Nick Fury brings you into the life of the Avengers, posing as Tony Stark’s personal assistant. But, what happens when your secret’s revealed?
A/N: Hey, all! Since school has started, I won’t be able to update and write as frequently. I’m still in the process of writing, but please keep in mind that my time is limited because of college applications and my AP classes. Happy reading!
Pairing: Avengers x Reader, (Eventual) Steve x Reader.
The next morning, you gathered the courage to step out of your room at the same time everyone else was. You made your way to the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup.
“I just want to know where she is,” you heard Natasha say behind your back. You froze as you reached for the sugar. “She’s the most badass assassin in the game, but she just dropped out. I always admired her stealth and skill.”
“Who are you talking about?” Natasha looked Bucky dead in the eyes and rolled her own.
“Does Shadow ring a bell? I pretty much spend my free time talking about her.”
“Huh,” said Bucky. “Well, tell me more.”
“She’s a badass. I don’t know how to put it more simply.”
“How do you know Shadow’s a girl?” Bucky asked.
“With a body like that, you don’t mistake her for a boy.”
You smiled to yourself and stirred the sugar in your coffee.
“I only wished I got to see her again. I didn’t actually get to meet her face to face. We crossed paths in Moscow before she dropped off the radar. I don’t know where she is now, but I want to know why she dropped out. Rumour says she was killed.”
“How can a skilled assassin be killed? You’re not dead,” Bucky pointed out.
“Yeah, but everyone’s either saying she’s dead or that they killed her. You can’t really think anything else.”
Natasha had a point. You were happy to know that the world of assassins thought you were dead. This meant you didn’t have to work so hard at concealing your alias.
“What do you think about Shadow, Y/N?” You turned around to be met with Natasha and Bucky’s curious eyes.
“Me?” They nodded. “Well, I haven’t really heard of her. I’m not really in the assassin business,” you said, trying to keep your cool. “She sounds pretty cool, though. It’s a shame she’s dead.”
“Probably dead. Nothing’s for certain,” Natasha said. “Man, I’d really like to meet her. I really want her to teach me this move she always does. She looks like she’s flying, but she’s actually jumping a long distance behind her opponent before they can reach her.” You tried to suppress a smile and did so by sipping your coffee.
“Are we talking about Shadow again?” Wanda asked as she made her way to the three of you, followed by Steve and Pietro.
“I’m sorry! I’m a real big fan of her work. You guys weren’t former assassins so you wouldn’t understand.” Pietro playful glared at Natasha.
“Barry Allen’s my version of Shadow,” Pietro said. “He’s quick. Not as quick as me, but still quick.”
Wanda smiled when she saw you standing.
“Y/N, it’s really good to see you,” she said. You grinned.
“Good morning, Wanda.” You were fully aware that she could read your mind at any moment, but you were trained to keep people with her abilities out of your head. For the most part, you had been doing a good job, but you soon realized she didn’t read people’s minds if she didn’t have to. Wanda was kind like that.
“Would you mind pouring me a cup and add a splash of cream, and three sugars?” You nodded and began fixing her a cup.
“She’s not your personal assistant,” Steve said.
“Yeah, but she’s closer.” You laughed.
“It’s fine, Steve. It’s no big deal, it’s just coffee,” you said, handing Wanda her cup. She took a sip.
“I am in coffee heaven.” The group laughed.
“You know, Y/N, you’re very quiet. I don’t see you around very much,” Pietro said. Wanda slapped her brother’s shoulder. “What?”
“You can’t just stay stuff like that and be so blunt. It’s rude,” Wanda whisper-yelled.
“No, it’s fine. I guess I’m just the really quiet type. Not really shy, just quiet. Plus, you Avengers kind of intimidate me,” you said.
“Why do we intimidate you?” Steve asked.
“I don’t know,” you said. “You guys are such heroes and I’m the personal assistant.” What you said was half true. The Avengers were doing so much good, but here you were, trying to forget your past by working as a personal assistant.
“We’ve all had our demon days, Y/N. I highly doubt any of us hasn’t done anything bad,” Wanda said, reassuring you. You shrugged.
“I guess. I don’t really do much on the scale that you guys do. It’s pretty cool though, being able to see you both in action and at home.”
“You should join us for dinner one day,” Wanda said. “Right guys?” Everyone agreed, but Steve was the one who seemed more excited than the others.
“Yeah, you should! That way, you can sample my cooking,” he joked. You remembered what he said from the other night and laughed.
“Am I missing something?” Pietro asked. Steve shook his head.
“Just a little inside joke,” he explained. Tony popped his head in.
“Hey, guys, Fury wants us in the meeting room. We have a mission. Y/N, if you could pretty please organize my reports and return a few phone calls?” Tony pleaded. You sighed and nodded.
“On it,” you said. Everybody parted ways and you sat in Tony’s chair, looking at the mounds of paperwork you had to go through.
You hadn’t noticed that the team left. The jet’s pretty quiet and the fact that it can turn invisible didn’t help. You paid no mind, however. The paperwork and folders in front of you were becoming less and less as you typed information into a folder in the computer. After hours of managing, you decided to take a break. It was noon and you didn’t expect the team to be back until late. Tony had said they’ll be back at sundown the latest. You huffed and came back to the paperwork.
The desk was clean and you could see the glass underneath. The data had been put into the computer and the calls had been answered, but there was no sign of the team. The sun had almost set and you didn’t get any word from Tony. Curiously, asked FRIDAY if the team was back. The team hadn’t even reached the hangar and the invisible jet wasn’t actually sitting in the hangar. It wasn’t even there.
Panic started to settle into your body. Of course, you had been used to the team, mostly Tony, being away for long periods at a time, but he was always sure to keep you updated and give you things to do. Now that you had free time and absolutely no idea where they were, you began to fear for the worst.
You tried to call Pepper, but she didn’t pick up. You cursed and forgot that she was attending an expedition in Paris for the next two weeks, so she must’ve been fast asleep by now. You paced back and forth in Tony’s office, looking outside at the sky. The sun was gone from sight and you could only see the sun’s rays lighting the sky. It would be dark soon and Tony hadn’t called or texted you.
“FRIDAY, can you get me Tony’s location?” you asked.
“I’m unable to get his location. His GPS is turned off.” Huh. That was weird.
“Okay, what about Steve?”
“Captain Rogers’ GPS is turned off.” You frowned.
“Hers as well.”
“Anyone on this goddamn team?”
“Unable to find a location,” FRIDAY responded. You sighed and subbed your head. You didn’t know where to go. You were sure the agents downstairs were handling things. but you couldn’t sit still. You walked to the kitchen, through the hallways, to the living room, but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to go to sleep.
Your phone buzzed in your back pocket. You almost screamed for joy when you saw Fury’s contact name on your phone.
“FRIDAY, run a location,” you instructed. You picked up the phone.
“I can’t talk for long,” Fury said when you answered. “The team and I are trapped somewhere. The men who intruded our building are keeping us hostage,” he said, breathing heavily. “Y/N, I know this is asking for a lot, but I need you to save us. I don’t know anyone else who can do that. Look in the back of your closet.”
The signal dropped at the call disconnected.
“Fury?” you asked over and over again. “FRIDAY, do you have a trace?”
“I do. Should I send the coordinated to your phone?”
“Yes please. Don’t inform the agents that I’m gone. If I’m not back by sunrise, tell them the location.”
You didn’t wait for FRIDAY’s response. You headed to your closet and did as Fury instructed. You frowned when you saw nothing out of the ordinary, but found a red button at the top of the dresser. The back opened and revealed a black, skin-tight suit with a note.
I figured you might need to use a suit. It’s built with important things. Talk to your suit. It sounds weird, but trust me. Also, in the breast pocket are keys to your motorcycle and an earpiece.
You quickly suited up and found the key he was talking about. Not knowing where the motorcycle was, you asked FRIDAY.
“It’s in lot ‘A.’”
“Thank you, FRIDAY. Can you send the location of the motorcycle too?”
You located the motorcycle quickly and hopped on, putting the helmet over you head, and drove away as quickly as possible.
“So, I’m supposed to talk to the suit?” you asked.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice said.
“Don’t be alarmed. I was programed once you came under the protection of the Avengers. Shall I list the benefits of the suit?”
You were focused on the woman’s voice telling you all the designs the suit came with as well as getting to the location safely. It wasn’t far that you couldn’t reach it by a vehicle, and considering you were going well over the speed limit, you were sure you’d get there in no time.
“Can you tell the agents to track the suit and motorcycle?” you asked the voice.
“Sending the location now.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna need to call you something,” you said.
“Peter calls me Karen,” she said.
“You mean you also exist in Peter’s suit? That’s kind of weird. But I’ll roll with it.”
In no time at all, you made your way to the location. You hopped off the bike with an expressionless face and checked to see if the gun was still attached to the suit’s holster. It was.
You crept inside the building and tried to locate the team. The first floor was flooded with men with guns. You used the staircase and crept to the second floor. Sam and Clint were tied up. In a quick motion, you knocked out the guy guarding the door and you peeped in the window to assess your situation.
There was only one man guarding them. You opened the door and used your elbow to hit the back of the man’s head and took the bullets out of his gun. Stepping around the unconscious man, you untied the two men.
“Y/N?” Clint asked. You put your index finger to your lips and told them to follow you.
“They split us up. I think Wanda, Pietro, and Bucky are in the room two doors down,” said Sam. You nodded and left the room, the two boys following suit behind you.
You instructed for Clint and Sam to take down the guys as a distraction while you try to free the trio locked in the room. The door was locked. You peeped into the small window through the door and saw the man guarding them had been knocked out, but they were locked in. Wanda and Bucky’s back faced you and Pietro was running around, trying to find a way out. You used a bobby pin from your hair to unlock the door. You calculated Pietro’s movements and in a flash, you stood in front of him, attempting to stop him from running. You stumbled backwards and your back hit the wall behind you. Groaning, you looked beyond his shoulders to see Clint and Sam freeing Bucky and Wanda.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Pietro asked, looking over your body.
“I’m fine,” you grunted, ignoring the pain shooting up your back.
“How’d you get here, Y/N?”
“There’s no time for questions. Let’s find the others and get out of here.”
Everybody was baffled when they saw you. You were in a skin-tight suit that showed your features and everyone was surprised, to say the least. Here you were, saving their asses, and they always thought you were a personal assistant.
“Where did the others go?” you whispered. Bucky motioned upwards, indicating they were upstairs.
But before you could move any further, you were ambushed by more men. You fought your way, dodging every hit and punched through these men like they were the plague. The other Avengers were stunned by your quick movements. The men were soon all defeated and you crept against the wall.
You arrived on the floor and immediately saw the rest of the team. Fury, Tony, and Natasha were strapped against metal posts with hands behind their back as they stood, watching Steve on his knees with his hands behind his back. You instructed the other Avengers to take down any men that were on this floor while you waked into the room alone.
Angrily, you walked up to the man who had his gun to Steve’s head. The men guarding him turned towards you and put their guns to your head. The man who stood in front of Steve turned around with a chuckle.
“You think you can defeat me?” he asked. He had a German accent and you quirked an eyebrow. “We’re tasked to capture the Avengers, miss. You cannot save them all.”
“Warum brauchst du das Team?” Why do you need the team?
“Det er ingen af dine bekymringer.” It’s not one of your concerns, he said, switching to Danish. He smirked and you quirked an eyebrow. He was trying to catch you off guard. You figured he was skilled at linguistics, like you. People like him were supposed to be able to speak multiple languages as they were often the middle men.
“¿Por qué no es mi preocupación?” Why is it not my concern? You spoke in Spanish. The man caught on. You were like him. It became a game - you both trying to stump each other, trying to speak in a language the other didn’t know.
“Je ne sais pas qui vous êtes. Vous n'avez pas besoin de comprendre pourquoi je fais ce que je fais parce que vous n'avez aucune affaire ici.” I do not know who you are. You do not need to understand why I do what I do because you have no business here.
“是这样吗？ 我可以为第三方工作。” Is that so? I could work for a third party.
“Nu contează. Nu știu cine ești și sunt sigur că nu știi cine sunt.” It doesn’t matter. I don’t know who you are and you don’t know who I am.
“أنت ذاهب لقتلهم؟” Are you going to kill them?
The man seemed stumped and you grinned, knowing you had caught him in a trap. The team members that had been tied up gaped at you. Fury was impressed, Natasha and Tony were surprised, and Steve was grateful that you came to his rescue.
“We’re not going to kill them,” the man said. You breathed, calculating the best way to go about taking down the men. All attention was on you and you figured the men would be too busy trying to take you down to harm the Avengers.
You swung your leg and knocked down two men. They other men aimed their guns at you and fired, but you dodged them by running, ducking, and the occasional backflip. Steve sat with his mouth open. His hands and ankles were tied together and tried to move.
You knocked out the other men and quickly moved to the man you spoke with, stealing his gun and aimed it towards him.
“I’m impressed,” he said. “For such a fragile stature, you can surely take down men twice your size.” You chuckled, remembering your incident with Tony.
“Untie them,” you ordered.
“I don’t think so, Princess. My handlers are on their way and are close.”
“Untie them now.” The man only shrugged.
“What can I do?” he teased. You narrowed your eyes and aimed for his head, putting your finger on the trigger.
“Y/N,” Fury warned. You breathed heavily and tried to pull yourself out of motion.
“You can’t even kill a man,” the man taunted. You raised your eyebrow at him and shot his leg, ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to walk.
The rest of the team stumbled in the room when they heard gunshots.
“Is everyone okay -,” but everyone was stunned when they saw men laying around you.
“Did you -”
“Yeah, I did. Untie them,” you instructed everyone. They nodded and you made your way to Steve, untying him from the ropes.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispered.
“I can’t believe I did either,” you said, referring to returning to your old ways.
“What you did was so impressive,” said Steve. “I can’t believe you’ve kept that a secret from us.” Once he was free, you stood up and offered him a hand. He fetched his shield and joined the rest of the team.
“You’re her,” Natasha said with her eyes wide open. “So you’re not dead.” You chuckled.
“Alive and well. Let’s get out of here, though.”
Exiting the building without being unscathed wasn’t too hard. Most of the men had been knocked out by you or the team. The jet was opened by Fury, revealing a spark that indicated where it was parked. Coincidentally, you hadn’t parked your motorcycle far from the jet.
“Oh no, you’re not getting on that,” Steve said when saw you grab your helmet.
“Steve, I’ll be okay,” you said. He crossed his arms.
“Don’t you know how dangerous these things are?”
“I do. You ride one, why is it any different?” Steve opened his mouth to speak when Fury spoke in his place.
“Let her be, Captain,” he ordered. “Come with us. We have a lot to discuss when we get back.”
[2017.07.07] JAPAN EXPO - Fullmetal Alchemist panel
Hello everyone ! (ノ^∇^) (I doubt anyone would read these lines but anyway XD)
Here is the translation of the Fullmetal Alchemist movie panel that was held on the YUZU stage (Hall 4) at Japan Expo 18th Impact (Parc des Expositions, Paris-Nord Villepinte) ! The guests were Sori Fumihiko (director), Yamada Ryosuke (Edward Elric) and Honda Tsubasa (Winry Rockbell) !
Fullmetal Alchemist panel at Japan Expo (Paris)
***Credits of the pic to me
I ended up including some reports notes because I thought they were cute / important but if it’s really too confusing to read, just tell me so I’ll remove them and keep it simple.
I had the huge honor and chance to be there and had an amazing seat. I’m so grateful despite all the complaints I’ve made (french side ? lol), and that is one of my best memory of my life ! (T_T) ♥
I hope you’ll enjoy it ! Just for this one PLEASE DON’T REPOST (only reblog) !!
You don’t have to say I love you to say
I love you.
Slice of Life AU. 2,103 words.
➵ inspired by Troye Sivan’s for him.
❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁
I love you.
It is a mere common-place,
frequently used phrase made up of simply three words, eight letters, two
spaces, yet it never fails to make your cheeks turn pink, your eyes turn into
crescents, and your lips turn into a smile.
Especially when it comes
from your boyfriend.
Yoongi is sleeping soundly
next to you as you look at him fondly, tenderly grazing your fingers across the
apples of his cheeks and smoothing out the stray strands of his hair. He looks
so innocent, dark eyelashes that frame his sleepy eyes now laying softly on his
cheeks and a smile barely there on his lips. You gently trace your fingertips
over his features and stop abruptly when his nose scrunches up. He lets a quiet
snore escape between his teeth, and you giggle softly.
You love him with every
fiber of your being, heart, and soul.
And while he rarely expresses
the sentiment to you, you know he loves you just as much.
After all, Yoongi is the one
who taught you that there are different ways to mean I love you.
I hit a breaking point today when I heard about what happened in Barcelona. I think it’s something that’s been building up ever since September 11th in 2001. I heard the news about Barcelona first when I got up and went out to get my dad his breakfast and take care of cat stuff (litter box, fresh water, food). I kind of avoid the news after initially hearing about something horrible. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just I don’t like to sit and listen for every little morsel of information. I prefer to find out about it, then go away from it and come back later when there’s more details rather than seeing the same ones reported over and over.
The breaking happened at noon for me. My dad has Parkinson’s and part of my routine with him is helping him do some therapeutic exercises that are supposed to help him be more mobile and flexible. I help him by holding his walker steady for the standing up exercises and counting his movements to make sure he does the total set of each exercise.
Fox News seems to be the “background noise” my parents prefer while waiting for other things to come on. Naturally, that meant it was all about Barcelona.
My heart started to race when my dad began his first set of exercises. I recognized the sensation of extreme fear beginning to come over me, but I kept myself deadpan, tried to take deep breaths and control my exhales by counting out loud. I mean, I do that anyway, but I wasn’t pausing to breathe between every few numbers. I tried so hard to turn the reaction off. My throat started to get so tight that it was hard to breathe and I started gasping quietly between every other number. I felt like I just ran across the country at a full sprint and then the urge to cry started to build up.
I kept focused on my dad as much as I could until I got him all the way through all his standing up exercises. He has one more he does sitting down where I have to push his knees straight while he flexes his toes “towards his face” as much as he can. Part of his walking issues are his legs don’t straighten all the way, so this helps that.
Anyway, I got lightheaded as I helped dad get to the recliner and my knees got suddenly weak. I said ‘excuse me’ and I have no memory between that and finding myself sitting sideways on my bedroom floor while crying so hard I could barely breathe. My mind was racing with horrible thoughts of something similar happening at Disneyland or my church or the grocery store or the school where my sister works and all the myriad of public places accessible to vehicles and people with evil intentions.
I started screaming in my mind for Jesus to come down here like He promised and end the world because it was so full of evil and suffering. I was hyperventilating so bad that I couldn’t see much through all the phosphenes (”static”) and my skin felt numb. All I could really hear was myself gasping and crying. My mom came in at some point and I have zero recollection of what we said because all I remember is she was there very briefly.
It took me almost half an hour to calm down enough to help my dad finish his exercises. He was really concerned about me. He doesn’t give me crap when something is scaring me. I didn’t know how to explain my feelings to him other than to say there’s too much crap happening and I couldn’t handle it, so I freaked out. He thought the images on TV were upsetting me and told me not to look at the TV. This is an understandable thing and I didn’t comment because my ability to use the right words was (and still is) too hampered to make sense of it. Then we did his knee push exercise since that was his last one.
I hate the news. It’s starting to feel more like gossip where people discuss the same two or three facts endlessly until new information that may or may not be correct arrives. I just like to hear that something happened, get just the facts and then get away. In situations where my emotions are high, I react more to tone of voice than what’s being said, and today it’s a parade of reporters sounding so grim and sad that I just couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s the suffering that’s affecting me, not the actual events themselves. It’s thinking about people who won’t see someone they love come home. It’s wondering how many people walked away after a fight and now they can’t apologize and make up. It’s all the death and destruction and being unable to comprehend why anyone can do such evil, horrible things.
But in the midst of all that, I had the presence of mind to challenge both of my parents when they said “what kind of sick headed freak does this?”
I said, “It’s not mental illness. Mentally people are usually the victims of violence, not the cause. That’s a lie movies perpetuate. Mental illness is not evil. The people who do the kind of crap we see on TV right now are evil people choosing to be evil.”
And they got quiet real fast. As I walked away to type this, I heard my dad say to my mom, “Our kid just schooled us.”
At the moment, I can’t really tell if more bad things are actually happening, or if we just hear about and know more often because people with phones can now insta-upload something to a news agency while on the scene of something awful. I really hope it’s “more tech” rather than “more evil”.
What happens next in The best helping hand is at the end of your own arm.
Stiles parks his jeep in a street that’s way too far from the clinic and Peter is quite confused about it. Confused, that is, until the teen enters an old nearby bookstore, talks a bit to the elderly (ancient) clerk about some obscure text and then makes them leave through the back when said clerk is not looking. A quick check reveals what Peter already suspected: there are no security or traffic cameras in sight. There was one at the entrance of the store, though.
Peter grins, giddy with anticipation.
He’s never been one to admit when he’s wrong, but he was: he didn’t think he could want Stiles anymore than he did. He does. Oh, how he does. The Stiles back then was a possibility, a being of untapped potential. Look at him now. What will he be a few months from now?
(Peter wants. He wants more than he’s ever wanted.)
Peter goes back to being confused when instead of taking them towards the clinic, Stiles goes exactly in the opposite direction. He’s about to make a smartass remark about his awful sense of direction when the teen stops abruptly, putting a hand up to halt Peter as well. Then the smell hits his sensitive nose, burning his nostrils and making him want to snarl.
“Deaton always takes a break at noon to have lunch at home when Scott is working,” Stiles says simply as he takes a look around to see if anyone is coming and then he pulls Peter to the side.
“Can you break it?” Peter growls covering his nose. This little trip will be for naught if they can’t even get to Deaton.
“Nope,” Stiles answers nonchalantly. “But why would I? A ward is useless if he can’t actually get inside, you know.”
Peter’s snarl vanishes as quickly as it came, morphing into a bloodthirsty grin again.
(Yes, he wants so bad.)
“Mr. Stilinski, the balance-”
“You talk too much,” Stiles groans. “And that coming from me is rich, I know. But really, you’re giving me a headache. Shut up already, stop spouting bullshit. Your mouth must taste horrible, how can you stand it?”
It’s like watching a train wreck, Peter can’t stop looking. It’s glorious.
“You should leave,” Deaton says firmly.
“Um, how about no? And color me confused here,” Stiles answers unfazed, reaching into his pocket to take out a pair of surgical gloves. Deaton’s heart rate spikes for a moment and Peter smirks. Really, he hasn’t smiled this much in a very long time. His face is starting to hurt but this is a pain he’ll welcome. “Because you seem to think you have control of the situation. I mean, you don’t? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really like killing, but I will kill you if I have to. So the question here isn’t really if you’re going to tell me what I need to know to keep my family safe, it’s whether you’ll be in one piece afterwards.”
“We’re in the middle of the day in plain view, what do you think-”
“You should have chosen a less deserted place to live in then,” Stiles chirps. “I’d bet you thought it a good idea back then. Newsflash: it really wasn’t. You know, in case there was any doubt by now.”
“Aw, your sister did get all the smarts, didn’t she? Which, seeing that she followed the alpha pack around thinking she could manipulate things her way… it isn’t much, to be honest.”
Peter can’t help it, he starts laughing when Deaton pales dramatically and his heartbeat accelerates to dangerous speeds. He catches the twitch of his hand, as if there’s nothing more he wants to do than to take out his phone and call his sister to know if she’s still alive.
Unsurprisingly, one Alan Deaton talks in the end and neither Stiles nor Peter have to lay a hand on him. Before the half hour mark they’re entering the bookstore through the back again. Stiles picks up a book that he set aside before leaving and then pays for it. The clerk didn’t even notice they had left.
“Would you have really killed him?” Peter asks curiously when they’re back at the jeep.
Stiles raises both eyebrows at him and Peter’s grin widens.
(He’s not fucking this up, he’s not. Stiles will be his and he will be Stiles’. If he can get this, he doesn’t care if he doesn’t get anything else.)
Peter laughs again not even an hour later, when Stiles starts receiving a barrage of texts from Scott, whom is devastated because Deaton is skipping town and closing the practice out of the blue.
Pairings: JeonJungkook x Reader (MAIN) | Park Jimin x Kim Taehyung | Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi | Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin
Genre: angst and fluff, soulmate au, scifi
Description: He’s really that person. He still exudes that comforting aura of warmth and that feeling of home. Yeah, in this universe he’s a genius and really just owning life, but the more you got to see the sides of him that he normally doesn’t show to the world, the more your able to see what he truly represents and understand why you fell in love with him so long ago.
The sound of Jungkook’s faintly husky voice calling you for the first time after the procedure startles you, even more so than it used to (if that was even possible). He had let you take as long of a break as you needed after the procedure, and two weeks later, (after that beach trip with Jimin and Taehyung and confronting Hoseok about Yoongi) you were finally back in lab.
Yes, you were very eager to see Jungkook again, but a part of you saw him much more differently than all your previous impressions of him. Although his different personalities never failed to surprise you, he wasn’t your famous MD-PhD neurosurgeon professor/casual “friend” outside of lab anymore. He was the warmth of summer, the cherry blossoms in the spring, all the stars in the night sky, and the person you loved from long ago. He was someone who was always out of reach but now closer than ever. And now that you remember, now that you know, acting natural around the guy was going to be even more of a challenge than it had already been.
This fic is very close to my heart as it is based (even though very loosely) off of real events that is all to do with my parents pregnancy with me (yes I am very much a sap for romance). I hope you all enjoy!
All Betty Cooper ever wanted to be was a mother. To take part in raising a life that was half her. But, that was all getting flushed down the drain. Yes, she and her husband we’re still only in their mid-twenties but they had been trying for so long. She got married to Jughead Jones straight out of high school, never once doubting her decision to get married so young, she knew they were forever.
They had been trying for almost five years when Betty had started to give up, but Jughead convinced her otherwise. There were so many new ways to get pregnant, she could easily book an appointment with her doctor and find out their options. That led to her diagnosis. Betty was told that she wouldn’t be able to have a child. Everything happened so fast, all of the information the doctor told her was hazed, it was just a mix of sounds clubbed together and wrapped up in a neat bow. That night she had cried for hours in Jughead’s arms, blaming herself for the fact that it was unlikely they were ever going to have children.
The next morning the couple went and signed up for IVF treatment. It was going to cost a bomb, but they didn’t care. All they wanted was a child of their own, to love and nurture unconditionally.
So that led them to the day when Betty was going to prepare for her first round of treatment. That morning she had woken up feeling sick to her stomach but brushed it off as the flu. Upon entering the doctors surgery, she was asked to take part in a blood test just to make sure that she wasn’t pregnant already. She laughed at the nurse who took the blood, claiming that it was going to be a miracle if she was.
That was when she got the call. The couple had been lying in bed taking a well needed break from life. It was noon when the phone rang; Jughead leaned over his wife in a haze only pausing when he saw the number on the lock screen of her phone. Suddenly alert, he gently shook his Hitchcock blonde awake from her slumber answering the call as he did so. They wouldn’t be calling if everything was okay, something had to be wrong.
Lightly tapping the speaker button on the brightly lit screen, she took in a sharp nervous breath.
“Is this Elizabeth Jones we’re speaking to?” A clinical voice asked from the other end of the call.
“Yes,” she replied her hands shaking in trepidation, eager to get the call over and done with so she could face more bad news.
“Passing you over to your doctor now,” there was a pause before the warm comforting voice of the woman that she has now grown to trust spoke out.
“Hi Betty, its Doctor Fletcher here. We finally got the results back from your blood test you had last week.” Sensing the blondes’ nerves she continued, “This isn’t anything to worry about, even though you may have to in a couple of months but it appears that you’re off the list for the IVF treatment because you’re pregnant, congratulations! From what I can tell, you’re only a month or so gone but I would advise you book in your first appointment with Gina at reception as soon as possible. I hope to be seeing you very soon. Congratulations again.”
When their doctor hung up they didn’t know what to say, do or even think. Two pairs of eyes widened, each welling up with tears threatening spill in sheer, absolute joy. Jughead pulled Betty into his arms, cradling her head and stomach whispering sweet nothings in her ear, both of them unable to take the gleaming smiles off of their faces.
“We did it Juggie. We really did it this time.”
“I’m so proud of you Betts. I’m proud of us.” He replied leaning down and taking her flat stomach into his long calloused hands. The raven haired man left a trio of kisses down the length of her stomach down to her abdomen. Whispering to his unborn child I love you’s.
“Jug?” Betty said, bringing him out of his reverie.
“When should I book the appointment for? I know you’ve got all those meetings for the new book and I’ve got work. I presume you want to come along, right?” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He planted yet another sloppy kiss on her lips.
“Jeez you’re such a sap Mr. Jones.”
“I know I am, and that is why you love me.”
They had finally managed to book an appointment with Doctor Fletcher that worked around both of their work schedules and were sitting, waiting on the worn plastic covers of the waiting room chairs. They were both nervous as hell, with one of his knees bobbing up and down as as his foot tapped the linoleum floor and she was wringing her hands together. A habit she picked up whilst she was trying to stop piercing the soft skin of her palms with her sharp nails.
When they were called into the office, Jughead blanched upon hearing that Betty had to be scanned internally, not realising that their child was too small to be seen using the external wand. Then came a sudden thrumming echoing around the room. Their baby was projected onto the small screen, no bigger than one of his thumb nails. The couple looked at each other, a fresh round of tears welling in their eyes, suddenly now everything seemed very real, all the years, all the negative tests, all the bad doctors visits, and it all was worth it. It was so worth it. The infamous duo fell even more in love with the baby, silently swearing that they were going to protect their kid with their lives.
They had ordered multiple copies of their sonogram after the scan was complete. Betty was determined to keep a record of all the milestones in her first pregnancy, including all the scans. Jughead tucked one in his wallet, so he could keep it with him at all times. Two were for Betty’s parents and Polly. Then the last two were for FP and Jellybean. He didn’t want his mother as a part of his child’s life, he still hadn’t forgiven her for when she walked out on him and FP when he was eleven. He still hadn’t forgiven her for when she denied him coming to Toledo. He still hadn’t forgiven her for when she refused custody of him when he was 16 and FP had been hauled to prison for 10 years for tampering with evidence and obstruction of justice. Thankfully FP had got out earlier than expected for good behaviour. At least one of his parents still showed that he loved him to some degree.
“Juggie?” He was pulled out of his reverie by that melodic voice of his wife and just smiled. He smiled because now they were finally getting everything they wanted.
Everything was plain sailing from then on; Jughead had decided to take a picture of Betty every day until she gives birth, much to her disliking and calling herself fat, which he immediately shuts down reassuring her that she’s only gaining weight from their child and it was the greatest gift she could ever give him.
That was until she was halfway through her pregnancy. Jughead was forced into yet another book signing for his new novel. He loved his fans, but all he wanted was to be at home with Betty and The Bump, a nickname that Betty was not too keen on to begin with, but he managed to sway her.
He got a call from Betty half way through the signing. He immediately knew it was bad, she would never call him when he was doing a signing or an interview so it had to be bad news.
“Betts? What’s wrong?” He said as soon as he accepted the call, halting the queue for his fans and leaving the room.
“Juggie I’m bleeding and it’s bad.” She said between sobs that echoed down the phone line causing him to freeze, going into full on panic.
“Don’t worry Betts I’m coming. Where are you?”
“I’m at Ronnie and Archie’s place. I’m in their bathroom and she’s literally trying to bang the door down. Please hurry Jug.”
“I am. I love you, okay. And Bug.”
“I love you too.” She sobbed again disconnecting the call.
Reentering the room which held his signing, he begrudgingly told everyone that he had to end the signing, apologising with promises to reschedule.
As soon as he left the bookstore he was in he ran. He couldn’t rely on the taxi drivers and traffic of New York City. He was close to Archie’s apartment anyway. He heard shouting from down the hallway of their floor, knowing who it was he ran faster. He almost broke the apartment’s door with his need to get in there to his wife.
She was a state. When he picked her up and held her she just crumbled even more saying that she was never meant to be a mother and she had failed him yet again.
The redhead tossed the raven haired man a glance knowing what to do immediately. Jughead picked up his blonde as Archie ran ahead, opening doors and unlocking his car in time for him to gently lay Betty in as soon as he got to it . “Go Arch!” Jughead practically shouted as he took Betty in his arms once more, stroking her hair and whispering sweet nothings in her ear in an attempt to reassure her, even though he was crumbling too.
It took ten minutes to get to the hospital. In those ten minutes the trio in the car were all in tears one way or another. Betty was sobbing, Archie’s eyes had glazed over and releasing one or two tears and Jughead had a singular tear, rolling down his left cheek slowly in fear. He couldn’t lose another person he loved. Not again. They had tried so many times in the past, either never conceiving, or there was miscarriage after miscarriage. They were so close on this one. He knew he shouldn’t have built up so much hope, but he did.
Betty was taken into immediate care when they rushed into the reception of the hospital, whisking her away in a wheelchair and leaving Jughead alone to break down into almost nothing. When Betty was no longer in sight, he fell to his knees and sobbed. His black leather wallet he had received as a graduation gift from his father was battered with use because of a simple picture of his little Bug. He kept it in his wallet since he had got it. He traced the outline of his child with his thumb as he cried even more. He often thought that the conversation with his mother in a small phone booth in the small town of Riverdale when he was sixteen was the worst moment of his life. This moment outdid that and any of the other parts of his shitty childhood.
He was drawing attention to himself and he knew it. But in that moment he didn’t care. He got up, finding his strength and asked where Betty would be. The doctors were still running tests as he approached the room his wife was in but he was allowed in since they weren’t invasive.
“Mr Jones!” Doctor Fletcher called him over wanting to discuss Betty.
“How is she? What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?” He started to bombard the doctor with questions about his family’s health.
“Betty and the baby are both fine.” She started, letting Jughead to take in a breath of relief. “Betty does have Placental Previa, however. Her placenta is lying very low in her uterus lining which caused the bleeding. She’s going to have to be on permanent bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy and I would like to keep her in overnight for regular observations.”
“Thank you Doctor Fletcher.”
When he returned to Betty’s hospital room, he told her the news, generating a fresh round of tears but this time they were out of happiness.
“When the nurses were hooking me up to all these wires they said they can do another ultrasound scan if we want it. And we could find out the gender.”
“Let’s have the scan. I don’t really want to find out what Bug is, but it’s up to you. You’re the one who’s pregnant.”
“Jughead Jones, I was going to say exactly the same thing.”
Betty was bored, like she was most days. She hated being confined to her bed and not being able to run or go shopping or taking the subway to work. All her life included was sleeping, waking up, eating, watching her TV, eating again, washing and then the cycle repeated. She had watched everything on Netflix, read everything in her library and her kindle.
She had had enough though. She had fought with Jughead for no reason apart from her hormones driving her crazy. It felt like he wouldn’t let her do anything for herself anymore.
The blonde was now seven months into pregnancy and felt like a whale. Her fitness routine was abruptly forgotten on the day of the accident so she felt like she was gaining weight instead of being on course to lose it once she had given birth. Thankfully, she was allowed to get up because she had another check up with Doctor Fletcher.
The couple finally got to the hospital after being stuck in traffic for what seemed like hours. They followed their usual routine, only to find out that Doctor Fletcher was ill and unable to work so a replacement ran the scans for them. They feeling of seeing their child would never change and with each check-up it was more incredible as the last. Months ago, they had been able to detect their facial features but this time was different.
“She has lovely eyes,” their replacement said in passing. The couple’s eyes widened and locked onto each other with tears gathering in their lids.
“We’re having a girl,” the father-to-be whispered to his wife.
“We’re having a girl.” Betty echoed with more enthusiasm.
Jughead pressed his lips lightly on the blonde’s forehead with so much pride and love. He wanted this moment to stop forever, his feeling of bliss overwhelming his senses.
“Have you felt any movement other than kicking Mrs Jones?” Their replacement doctor asked.
“Not really, but she does kick a lot. Why, may I ask?”
“It looks like she hasn’t started moving her head to face the cervix; still you have plenty of time before she arrives.”
That night, Betty woke up with a sharp pain in her abdomen and wet bedsheets. She shook Jughead awake knowing that it was time. He woke up in a daze, only snapping to life when he saw the same panicked look on Betty’s face as there was four months ago.
Grabbing the hospital bag that had been situated by their front door for over a month and lifting Betty into his arms, he made his short journey to his car and then to the hospital.
The mother-to-be was whisked away in a wheelchair with Jughead following quickly behind them. He only caught a few words but it didn’t sound good. The doctors on call were going to have to perform an emergency Caesarean section so their daughter would be able to survive.
It was the longest fifteen minutes of his life, not being able to be with Betty. A nurse soon exited the room, passing him sterile clothing and asked him to sterilise his hand before entering the operating theatre.
Betty was so out of it, he let out a small laugh at the sight. He held her hand throughout the procedure only letting go when he heard the soft cry of a new born baby.
The nurses took her to a station to clean her up slightly before handing the new born to her waiting parents. Betty held her first, her bright giddy smile reaching her eyes. Jughead wished he had a camera to capture this moment because it truly was a beautiful scene.
Jughead finally got to hold his daughter when the doctors needed to stitch Betty up. She was so tiny; he could hold her entire head in his large calloused hands. Her fingers were so delicate they would only just be able to wrap around his smallest finger.
He had only once felt such love for a person before and that was when he and Betty confessed their love to one another for the first time. The second was now, gazing on the sleeping features of his daughters face and knowing that he could love no other person the way he would love her, not even Betty.
“Hey little one, I know you’re sleeping right now but I love you so much already and you were only born a couple of minutes ago. I promise to protect you from now until the day I die and no boys until you’re at least 25 because we can’t have anything happen to you can we? We’ve wanted you for so long and you’re finally here. Isn’t that amazing? I love you little one, so so much.“
After mere minutes of holding her, the nurses had taken their daughter away to do some tests on her, making sure she was healthy due to Betty giving birth prematurely.
The family of three were finally in Betty’s hospital room waiting for her to wake up from surgery. The new father was sat in the large chair beside Betty holding his daughter who was sprawled out against his bare chest, going skin to skin. Archie and Veronica had messaged him saying that they were only a few minutes away from the hospital however the rest of their friends and family would be arriving the next day.
Betty’s tanned hand reached out to stroke the soft head of the sleeping baby girl as soon as she woke up, craving contact with her daughter.
“What are we going to call you, Little Bug?” The blonde cooed as Jughead passed the now awake new born into her mother’s waiting arms.
“What about Juliet?”
“Hello Juliet,” Betty spoke to their daughter, gently rubbing her thumb across her belly. “Mummy and Daddy love you so much. Never Forget that Little Bug.”
If you asked me what I wanted, this is what I might have said. You or I would wake up, when the room was grey and misty, so we might pretend we were the first creatures to stir in those hours before the sheets dripped sunlight and the waves grew big. You or I would fix tea, for both of us. You would go to town, to attend to something or another, and I would write, in a dim, dusty corner of the small house, where I had only a small view of the ocean. I would take one break before noon to drink a second cup of tea out on the slim porch, leaning on the railing and watching the beachcombers and seagulls and pelicans. At one point, you might silently kiss me on the forehead while I sat at my desk. In the afternoon, we would swim. Not in the ocean. In the small, blue pool behind our house, hidden amidst a mess of banana leaf trees and palms and other sorts of lush plants that you watered every day that it did not rain. We would kiss in the pool. I would write for two more hours. We would go out, to dinner, and order wine and dessert. If it was cool that evening, we might leave the porch door open to the briny air and light a fire in the fireplace. We’d sit near the flame, taking turns reading lines from whatever book out loud. We might fall asleep on the sofa.
candles. Check. Incense? Check. Now all I need is….”
Hoseok paused, his
eyes thoroughly scanning the room for the one missing item.
“Ah, there it is,”
he mumbled to himself as his hand landed on a lighter lying by his
A deep, shaky breath
later, he ignited it, the flame bright and stinging in his eyes as he
used it to carefully set fire to all of the candles surrounding him.
His heart was
beating hard against his rib cage like it was trying to escape his
The blood wouldn’t
stop pulsing through his head as he adjusted his position in the
middle of the circle he had built up, before he inhaled one more
time, the smell of burning incense wafting in his nose.
Before his courage
could leave him again, he started mumbling the few words he had
scribbled onto a piece of paper- they were written in another
language, though he could not tell whether it was Latin or another
kind of devil’s tongue, but it didn’t matter to him.
It wasn’t like he
understood it anyway.
At first, his voice
was gentle, soft even, barely a whisper in the musky air, almost like
he was scared of himself, but the more often he repeated the chant,
the louder and stronger it got.
He could practically
feel the power in him building up, filling him from the tip of his
toes to his fingertips, making him sit up from his crouching position
and throw his head back as he came to almost shout his words into the
clammy attic air.
All of a sudden, he
felt empty and deflated again.
From one second to
the next, it was like all the energy and strength he had built up had
escaped him and when he opened his eyes, he glumly noticed that all
the candles were blown out.
His eyes wandered
over the little trail of smoke rising from the wicks to the window
right in front of him.
It was open. He
could see the stars twinkling in the distance, speckled through the
sky like little diamonds.
he hissed, before slumping down again, resting his head in his arms
as he tried to figure out what to do next- and most importantly, what
had gone wrong.
name I know, and I honestly still don’t know how I was carted off with it. I
suppose it could be because I’m one of the smallest wranglers in Berk, or that
I was born early. I’ve never asked, although I suppose it would make a good
father is the great Stoick “the Vast” Haddock, one of the best and well-known sheriff’s
in the country. He’s big, has got all the muscle, taller than most, can shoot
any gun from any distance and still hit the target. He’s a man not to be
reckoned with, and many outlaws have gone under his hand.
his deputy. Well, that’s what I’m told. And even though I wear the little brass
star on my chest, often time’s I hide it under my bandanna or pin it inside my
shirt. It’s not like anyone listens to me anyways, and that little star has
gotten me into more trouble then I care to explain. The title deputy isn’t really
acknowledged by… anybody, it’s more
of a statement that yes, I’m Hiccup, the failure of a son to Stoick Haddock.
title “Hiccup the Useless” is starting to pick up now, and I try to ignore it,
but Samson “Snotlout” Jorgenson finds it some kind of joke, as do the twins,
Tyler “Tuffnut” Thoroston and Rachel “Ruffnut” Thoroston. Fred “Fishlegs”
Ingerman seems to be the calmer one out for the other teen wranglers my age.
But he can afford to be shy, for he’s got the bulk to make up for it and a good
shooting hand. He’s never been mean to me… exactly… but has definitely never
stood up for me either.
there’s Astrid Hofferson, one of the best horse wranglers in Berk. Even though
she’s just fifteen, she can still wrangle a wild mustang down with one hand
tied behind her back. And gods, she’s one of the prettiest gals in town. She’s
got this wild blonde hair that seems untamable, always tied back in a heavy
braid although hair seems determined to escape it. She wears this old Stetson that
I haven’t seen her go anywhere without, along with a leather beaded headband of
some sort that overlapped her hair and forehead. Most of the time she wears
leather leggings tucked inside worn cowboy boots, and even though I know she
doesn’t do it to look good, she accidently makes herself even more attractive. Added
with the tight blue tank top and leather vest, exposing her bare arms that had
leather chords tied around the biceps- she’s a woman that all the teens in Berk
though she’s never out and out made fun of me, like the others, she’s never
tried to stop the bullying either. But that gives me hope that perhaps she
doesn’t truly hate me- at least not as much as the others do. Still, I don’t
stand a chance. Who’s going to want Hiccup the Useless anyways? Not to mention
I’m skinnier then a pole, and I’m shorter than her. Plus I’m a terrible shot.
deputies out here can shoot fairly well- if not reward winners. Not me. I’ve
been practicing with a gun since I was eight, and even now when I’m fifteen and
sworn in as a deputy, I still can’t shoot straight to save my life. Dad’s tried
to teach me, a long time ago, but after five tries and failures he gave up, and
it was Gobber who took over the job.
my Dad’s best friend and voice of reason, although to me he’s like another
father… or more like the father I never had. He teases, sure, and he’s rough at
times but Gobber knows when to stop.
And he’s always been there for me, even in the hardest times when all my Dad
and I seemed to do was fight. I even stayed over at his Blacksmith’s shop a couple
of nights when I was too tired to go home, or just plain didn’t want to.
worked with Gobber over the past three years in the forge, it distracts me. And
many might think that me, as a deputy, would have many and beyond duties to
tend to. Nope. I do not. My Dad just gave me the title deputy years ago, before
I became a total nuisance Now I carry it just so he can call on my whenever he
wishes without fighting me, for I’m his deputy, and I should listen to his
rules no matter what- even if I find them petty and not exactly the jobs
deputies should be doing. I’m more his delivery boy then anything, so I for the
most part hang out at the forge and help Gobber with all the work there. It’s
one place where I feel like I can actually do something right, like I stand a
chance. I don’t goof up as much, I know how to handle myself in the forge. It’s
my only refuge.
allowed to go out and hunt outlaws, bandits, or cattle rustlers like my Father
and the other “teens in training” do. I’m told to stay behind and “stay out of
trouble”, and even though I’m the deputy and should be the one to watch the
town, Spitelout, my Uncle, is put in charge of Berk while my Dad’s away.
is my life on Berk. Not too terrible, but definitely not great either. I have a
feeling it won’t change any time soon either, so I try to do the best with it,
the best that I can.
hard, yeah, and times get tough. But I’ll just try and push through and hope
for the best.
stepped out onto the wooden deck of the porch, lifting a hand to shield his
eyes from the sunlight that skimmed shadows across the ground. The sun was
barely peaking above the hills in the distance, and Hiccup could feel it in
every bone in his body. Every part of him was screaming at him to go back to
bed, to lie down and get some well needed rest. But he knew that if he ever
wanted to get anything done- or even survive for that matter- he’d have to get
his butt moving and head down to the forge.
Summary: It’s the next morning after Peter gave you
the cookie late last night. It starts with an early wake-up call but definitely
worth it after the exam is over.
Characters: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Reader
Word Count: 1,361
A/N: Study buddy goals, honestly. Where can I find me
a cute boy who will help me with a hard exam? Part 1 can be found here.
You were having a great dream until your phone started
blaring your ringtone. You looked at your phone and saw that Peter was calling.
You answered with a groggy voice.
“Peter, it’s,” you looked at your phone and saw 7:42
AM, “it’s 7:42 AM. Why are you calling me so early?”
“Because studying doesn’t wait for anyone and we have
a lot to review for tonight if you want that A!”
You groaned, “Fine, give me 30 minutes to wake up.
Want to meet at the dining hall to eat breakfast and study there for the time
“Yeah sure. See you there in 30.” He replied on the
other end and you hung up the phone and rolled out of bed. You looked over and
your roommate was still sound asleep. You went to your closet and grabbed your
shower caddy, some clothes and your towel to take a quick shower. You love the
feeling of the warm water hitting you, waking you up. When you got out, you
grabbed your backpack and headed to the dining hall. There you saw an eager
Peter waiting for you.
Soulmate AU (the one where you see all colours except the one of your soulmate’s eyes with a little twist) requested by Anon
“Dean, I told the guy with the Continental
he can come to pick it up today, are you done with it?” Bobby says as Dean’s
putting on his work coverall.
“Yeah, I want to give it a few finishing
touches. When is he coming?”
“He said he’d like to come during his lunch
“I’ll be finished by noon then.”
Dean likes to say he loves all cars, some of
them just a bit more than the others. The tan Lincoln definitely isn’t one he
would choose for himself, but he worked on it with love and made sure it would
He wasn’t very excited about meeting the owner,
because let’s be honest, he expected a pimp not a… tax accountant. That’s the
first thing that comes to his mind as he sees the guy walking towards him. The
tan (seriously what’s up with that color) trench coat looks too big on him as
well as the suit underneath and his tie is backwards and blue. Well he guesses
it’s blue, because he’s never saw the color before. He looks the guy in the
eyes and wow, they are blue too, but a different and much prettier shade.
Dean throws his head back and for the first time
in his life the sky isn’t gray. He let’s out a surprised chuckle and only then
does he realize the guy was talking to him.
“Are you okay?” he asks now, a hint of
concern in his deep voice.
Dean looks in his face, it’s an unusual face,
but very attractive. Dean smiles for himself.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess. You?”
The guy’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head.
“Why shouldn’t I be okay?”
Because you just met your soulmate and I know I’m
not much but shouldn’t you be at least a bit excited? Dean thinks, but doesn’t
say anything out loud because the guy continues impatiently.
“Is something wrong with my car? I was told
I could pick it up today.”
“Yeah uhm about that-” Dean rubs the
back of his neck and looks at the car.
“I’m sorry but as I was doing the final
check out I found there’s something wrong with… with the breaks.”
The guy’s frown deepens.
“There’s something wrong with the breaks?”
“Yeah, you’re really lucky I noticed. But
you need to understand I can’t let you drive off like this.”
The owner sighs and runs his hand through his
hair. It’s thick and looks soft and Dean wonders how it would feel under his
fingers and whoa. He stops himself right there, shaking his head.
“Can you fix it until tomorrow?”
“Yeah of course.”
“Alright then, I’ll come back tomorrow at
the same time.”
“Sure, I’ll be ready. I mean, the car will
be ready,” Dean says with an awkward smile.
guy just nods and walks away. Dean watches him leave. He feels confused and a
He pinches the bridge of his nose, realizing
that even his damn coverall is blue.