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gleamglows · 3 years

Note

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

“So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

#requests #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black

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atsukashii · 4 years

Text

❝r.i.p to the youth❞ // e. kirishima

SYNOPSIS: ➛ The world has gone to shit and you have lost almost everyone close to you, including Kirishima

» CHARACTER PAIRING: eijiro kirishima x reader

» WORD COUNT: 5.6K cause i have no chill again

» GENRE: apocalyptic au, aged up characters

» WARNINGS: major character death, ANGST with fluff ending, blood, swearing

« masterlist || ao3 »

You were only seventeen when the world had gone to shit. You had been studying with your friends at U.A when you watched the news roll in, villains had popped up everywhere in a large scale attack. After that day, the world had never been the same. Led by Tomura Shigaraki, the league of villains now held hostage the world, ruling it in the very way they knew how. Now labelled The Purge, many of the top heroes were wiped out in the first few months, and more as it followed.

Now today, five years later, you are still trying to survive through an apocalyptic world, where ones who were only students when it started, are now leaders of rebellion… the only force to attempt to rise up against the villain dictatorship. The Rebellion Army was created by pro heroes once the fighting began, however as the years passed, there were newly inducted commanders in charge more frequently than there ever should be. You are one of them. Along with your previous schoolmates and close friends, Izuku, Shouto, Bakugou, Iida, and Momo, somehow you had all become the leaders of the rebellion army. All the previous pro heroes either having been killed or forced into solitude for their safety and the safety of the rebellion. Together, your spread out force had managed to locate some of the existing pro’s, however, they opted to be the voice of reason and advice, and decided to leave the leadership to a bunch of twenty-year-olds. You were inducted as a commander just over two years ago due to the strength of your quirk, your incredible strategic skills, and your ability to be stealthy was far greater than anyone else. You had earned that rank in a time where you didn’t want it. All you wanted was for this all to end.

Looking down at the picture in your hands, you wish you could turn back time and transport back to it. It had been a few months before The Purge began, where the only concern you had was if you were going to pass your final exams, your work-study, and your boyfriend. Not the fate of the world, or at least not until you were a pro.

In the faded image, you were shielding your eyes from the sun but had a bright grin on your face. Your thighs were draped over a shirtless male torso that had your heart hurting inside your chest. He had a carefree, teeth-bared grin on his face, his eyes squinted shut in the sunlight, as he held onto your legs to support you. He looked so happy that day, in fact, you all were. You and your class had gone to a water-park, as a time to relax and just have chaotic levels of fun. It was one of your last good memories before it all fell apart. And now, this picture with your boyfriend was your greatest treasure.

Because two years ago, villains had discovered your previous location and attacked out of the blue. It had been pure chaos and a mad scramble to evacuate and get away with as few casualties as possible. It was one of the worst days of your life. Because that day, you had been separated from your boyfriend and once the dust had settled, he was gone. You had searched for days, not eating or sleeping. The only thing on your mind was finding Eijiro Kirishima, if it was the last thing you did. You were only forced to stop when Bakugou pulled you away, kicking and screaming. Everyone had said he was dead, and that you needed to accept it, but Bakugou just reiterated the same line over and over.

‘Shitty hair wouldn’t fucking die like that. We’ll find him y/n.” yet here you were, two years down the line, with still no sign of him. So like everyone else, you had accepted the fact that he was no longer going to be around, and when you found yourself deep within a pit of depression, it was your friends who pulled you from it, helping you take a step every day. You weren’t over it, and you knew you wouldn’t ever be. For that red-head who was sunshine personified was the love of your life, and he always would be.

A knock comes from your closed door, and hesitantly, you shift your gaze from the photo in your hands to the figure now poking their head through the partially cracked doorway. Momo’s kind smile meets you, and when she sees the tattered picture in your hands, it morphs into something soft but laced with pain. You aren’t the only one who is hurting from his passing, it has affected your friends and comrades too. There was too much death these days, too much for people to bear.

“It was a very fun day.” She says, walking over to where you sit on your bed, before sitting next to you. It had been one of your best memories with Kirishima, yes, but also with your other friends. Some who weren’t around now…

“And so different to life now.” You reply, pushing the picture back under your pillow before you turn to your friend and fellow leading commander. “What’s going on?” There had to be something for her to come and get you during your break.

“Shouto wants to move the stealth operation to today. He says he’s got a bad feeling about tomorrow.” You’re not surprised by the idea, so you just nod, not questioning your friends’ instincts for a second. Being in charge of such a large operation, all six of your close friends have learnt the inner workings of each other's minds. And when someone has a gut feeling, a hunch, you follow it, because nine times out of ten, it’s right. And in a world ruled by villains, being wrong means death, and that’s something you don’t want to see happen ever again. “We want you to lead it.” Of course.

The argument sits heavy on your tongue, but something inside you like always can’t seem to let it out. Maybe it was the guilt, or the fear of not being there to stop something bad from happening again. Because not long after you had lost Kirishima, you had lost your mentor, your work-study agency leader, your friend, in a stealth mission gone wrong. You had almost died that day, unable to save your mentor. Instead, Keigo Takami had saved you, and you weren’t going to let his sacrifice go to waste. You were going to protect every single one of your friends, even if it meant you died in the process.

“Alright.” Together, you both stand and begin the walk to the meeting room. The second you walk in, your eyes meet your four commanding friends, as well as three others. You smile at Jiro, Sero and Shoji before sitting down at a vacant seat. “What’s the plan?” You ask the quiet room, listening as Momo points towards a map of the city in the centre of the table, explaining the plan.

“Jiro’s ear jacks are going to eavesdrop on anything audible inside the warehouse. Shoji and Sero, you are on lookout, and Y/n, you are on escape routes.” Everyone in the stealth team had quirks that allowed them to do their job quickly and efficiently… but you were just there as back up, as a walking bomb ready to go off if something detrimental should occur.

You’d lost half of your quirk the day you had almost died, and witnessed your mentor sacrifice himself for you. Those flames, ones you can manipulate yourself- but failed to, burnt your wings until the weight that had rested between your shoulder blades your whole life, was gone. Now, you could manipulate fire, but hadn’t used it in almost a year, instead, focusing on hand to hand combat. After that day, you could barely glance at flames without either making yourself sick, or having flashbacks powerful enough that they seemed as if you were actually trapped back in the past. The sensation… the scent… the burning… the screaming.

“Live, little firebird. Save us all.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a sigh before standing to your feet. Everyone in the room looks in your direction, and you look at Bakugou, one of your closest friends and look into his eyes, trying to ignore the nagging thought that they look similar to Kirishima’s.

“We leave at 22:00.” Momo nods to you across the table and you look to your friends who are risking their lives alongside you. “Let’s get some dirt on these assholes.”

҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉

“We don’t get closer than ten metres to any entrance or exits of the building.” You whisper, using your very very little air manipulation to help your words travel to your friend’s ears. You see all three of them nod in response as you creep down the abandoned alleyway. The world is so quiet, the only noise was the slight breeze and trash being moved across the street from it. Everything about this area was abandoned and for good reason. You had discovered through one of the rebellion’s many spaced out informants, that they had seen S class league members frequently visiting this warehouse. This mission wasn’t to take more than two hours, that’s what Bakugou had drilled into your brain.

“Don’t be fucking late because I’m not coming to look for your dumb ass.” You weren’t a moron, which is what you had responded with and you could have sworn the blonde wanted to punch you in the face. It was the usual really, the urge and not the actual physical blow - that never happened. However, you knew that if your team didn’t show up, the blonde would come looking for you and not stopping until he dragged you all back and then tried to kill you himself for being stupid.

Normally, other than villain activity, it is quiet in this part of town. The previous residents having abandoned their homes the second the league of villains moved in. So you are surprised when Shoji gestured to you only thirty minutes in.

‘Figure. 2 blocks.’ He gestured with his hands, not risking to speak so close to the building. Sure you are on the second floor of the building next door, but with Jiro’s quirk in use, you aren’t going to distract her either.

‘Villain?’ You question, using both your hands to communicate the thought back. Shoji shakes his head and instead waves you over to his position. Silently, you manoeuvring until you are next to him, looking out the broken out window at where he is pointing - straight towards a figure staring at the building you’re currently listening on. The person is completely decked out in all black, and you definitely different recognise them, not that you could make out much of their figure other than the fact they were tall and bulk, probably male. If he were a villain, surely he could have just walked towards the building instead of peering at it like a predator watching its prey.

In silence, Shoji and you watch as the figure moves towards the building, carefully using the shadows to hide their body as they slip between alleyways and across the street. Okay, so not a villain… Suddenly the figure disappears behind an alleyway and you look at Shoji with a frown. What the hell was someone that wasn’t a part of the rebellion doing here?

From what you were aware, you were the only current branch within this area, the rebellion spreading wide across both Japan and the world, all under different titles and names, however, you were the leading force in this city, and possibly Japan. You would know if there was another organisation within the city limits. So who the hell was that?

Jiro taps the floor twice and your eyes look to Sero, holding his binoculars, directed straight at the warehouse. They were wrapping up. You tap your wrist to signify that you were to head out in one minute, when a gasp suddenly breaks the silence. Oxygen leaves your lungs as Shoiji tackles you to the floor. Wheezing, you don’t question in when heat engulfs the world outside the window. Your ribs scream in pain from the impact, but over your friend’s shoulder, you see the bright blue flames lick across the ceiling through the open window. Blue flames.

Your screams bounce across the concrete walls of what once had been an office building but was now nothing but rubble. Blue flames lick over your shoulder blades and neck. Your spine, engulfed in a pain you never thought possible, but what has you screaming is the image in front of you. You look up into Dabi’s smirking face, his blue flames swirling around his scarred fist. “This is the end of the line for you gorgeous.” He raises his hands in front of your face and for a second you close your eyes, praying for it all to be over. But then there’s a thump, and you watch in horror as Hawk’s - beaten to a pulp, lands in front of you, his scarlet red wings spread out behind him shielding you from the blue flames.

“Live, little firebird. Save us all.”

The last of his feathers grip your clothes, and you slam out of the rubble, dragging you across town as fast as they can. You cry out and beg to stop as one by one, they fall to the ground, losing their power, until you lay on the sidewalk outside the warehouse on your stomach, trying not to scream. You knew your wings were gone, the heavyweight you had held up your entire life wasn’t there. Only pain, god so much pain, you wanted to die. You had only passed out after you’d heard people mumbling above you, and at that point, you hadn’t cared if it were villains… you just wanted it to end.

Those blue flames… They had brought down your old compound that day, and you had been flying people out of the burning building when you had bumped into Kirishima, about to sprint into battle to join Bakugou and Shouto. You had wanted to beg him to stop, to just get out of the building, but that’s not who you were, and it definitely wasn’t who he was.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll be back. Get everyone out and I’ll meet you at the safe-point soon.” Kirishima says, kissing you on the forehead before racing out. You hadn’t even had time to tell him you loved him like usual, before moving to pull more people from the wreckage and transporting them. And that was something you would never forgive yourself for. You let Kirishima run into that burning building.

Once you had gotten the last people out, there was a loud crunch, followed by a boom. You and Sero turn around, only to see the roof of the warehouse begin to collapse. Figures flee from the fire, and one is heading towards you at an alarmingly fast rate. The second they reach your position, you do a headcount, tracing peoples faces until you realise there are only four of them. There should be five. Whipping your head back and forth, you quickly spin around, scanning everyone here for that head of red hair...but he’s not there. Where is Kirishima? Where the hell is your boyfriend?

You then look to the very singed and exhausted as-blonde before you. “Where is Eijiro?” Bakugou frowns at you, before looking around, his movements getting more frantic with every passing second.

“He was right there…” You hear hum mutter, only for another loud bang to come from the old warehouse.

No, god please no...The situation finally hits you, and you jump to action, your wings propelling you forward towards the burning building. You hold out your hands and try to smother the flames with your quirk, but theres too much, and its burning through the building to quickly.

Your only a few feet from the inferno when you’re tackled to the ground. You try desperately and wildly to shake the weight off, but soot covered hands have pinned your wings so you can’t move.

“Get off me! HE’S STILL IN THERE! I NEED TO GET HIM OUT! KIRISHIMA!”

“And die yourself in the process? There’s nothing you can do Y/n.” Bakugou’s voice is in your ear, and you scream out in frustration. The noise is so loud, coming from a place deep inside you that it hurts your vocal chords when it comes out. There's another crunch, and you watch helplessly as the roof completely collapses, finally succumbing to the flames, and the second it falls, part of you dies with it.

“EIJIRO!” You scream again, trying to shake the blonde off you.

“I’m so sorry Y/n.”

“No, please no.” Your voice is barely there, unable to be any louder. The flames leaving nothing in their wake, devouring everything it comes into contact with. “Not him, not him.” You repeat the words over and over, as you rest your head on the ground. He’s not dead, he can’t be. I can’t- I can’t do this without him. Your heart is pounding inside your ears, unable to hear anything else, and your lungs can't seem to hold any air at all. Before you know it, black dots line your vision, and then everything is dark. Before you pass out, the last thing you remember was the flickering of blue flames.

Those blue flames took your mentor from you, they took your wings, your freedom, they took the love of your life from you. You had nothing left. And now, those blue flames are going to pay.

For a year and a half, you haven’t touched your flames. You haven't activated the power that prowls under your skin like a beast. You had smothered it, tried to calm it, bottled it up for months, waiting for a moment to release it. The second you lock eyes with Sero, you nod before rising up off the ground.

“Get them to the checkpoint now.” You hiss, just as a chuckle echoes from down on the floor below.

“Running away so easily?”

“He’s right below us,” Jiro whispers, her ear-jacks still pressed into the concrete. She looks up at you, fear her eyes. How the hell do we get out of here alive? Luckily enough, you already have an escape route.

“Sero, now!” You yell out, aiming your hands at the floor and releasing a breath. All that unrelenting anger, frustration, grief, fury bubbles to the surface, and the second you see Sero swinging out the window with Jiro and Shoji in tow, you unleash yourself upon the world. Your pent up emotions spread to life in the form of a white flame, immediately melting the floor beneath you, and unfortunately missing the scarred man that it now reveals.

“We’ve been looking for you, little firebird,” Dabi smirks, even whilst standing in the middle of a world of flames. “The name’s kind of ironic isn’t it, considering how you lost your wings.” You know he’s goading you, so instead, you raise a hand, your own flames swirling around your fingers almost resemble lightning in their color.

“Ironic, considering you’re about to be burnt alive.” You hiss out before releasing your flames upon him. Dabi quickly unleashes a flash of power, only for those cursed blue flames to become overwhelmed by a wave of white melting hot fire. The smug look disappears in his eyes as he takes you in. You can feel the fire bubbling inside your veins, spilling out across your body like a shield, only not burning you. “You took everything from me,” Your throat aches from breathing in the smoke of the building. “and now, I will take your life.” You shout, letting your quirk redirect itself partially to your feet, sending you flying through the air where you fire white-hot fireball after fireball in the raven-haired man’s direction.

He would not survive this. You would make sure of it.

Your blasts were tearing up the building around you, and the warehouse you had been spying on, yet you did not care. You would set the whole world on fire before you gave him the chance to get away. The second you boost yourself out of the building and into the open courtyard between the buildings, is when you finally notice the fact that they’re barely standing, one slight movement from completely crumbling around you. Focusing back on Dabi, he looks at the buildings before relaxing his stance and glaring back at you.

“Don’t fool yourself, you can’t kill me. You’re nothing but a pathetic waste of a quirk.” He spits back, releasing a volley of blue flames towards you. Placing both your hands above your head, palms facing the sky, you swiftly release a blaze of power as you bring down your hands towards the floor, effectively slicing the incoming blue flames in half like a hot knife slicing through butter. You weren’t going to talk anymore, instead, you would fight him until he felt as much pain as you once had. Until Dabi knew how you had felt every day for the past two years since he had taken everything from you. Since he had ripped the love of your life from your grasp and permanently forced your feet to the ground.

Pieces of debris began to fall to the floor around you from collapsing buildings. Raising your arms either side of your body, you grin a feral smile at Dabi and aim at the two buildings, knowing fully well that when they collapse, they will bury you both. Quickly catching on to your idea, the man in front of you hesitates, only for a second, as if shocked by your actions.

“I’ll see you in hell, Dabi.” You release your flames and watch as the world crumbles around you.

҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉

At first, there is nothing but silence, your body weightless and mind empty of all thought. Is this death? Everything is dark until there’s a shout that echoes so loudly in your brain it hurts, and you feel something grip you tightly but you can’t tell where... and then… Nothing…

When you come to again your eyes blink open instinctively, and you find yourself staring at a concrete ceiling that you’ve seen many times before. The infirmary?

You blink a few times, vanishing the blur from your eyes. You can hear the scraping of furniture coming from outside the room, but surprisingly, as you glance around, you’re the only one in here.

Trying to sit up, suddenly your ribs screech in protest, forcing a hissing breath from your lungs. Jesus christ! You pause once you force your aching body upright, and glance around the room again, giving yourself a chance to let the pain settle before moving again. An IV machine stands empty next to your bed, and a bandage wrapped around… well your everything. The white compression cloth fits your ribs like a second skin as well as your arm. You don’t even remember getting injured… All you remember was unleashing hell on Dabi and bringing down a building around you. You were ready to sacrifice yourself to take out one of the main league members like any of your friends would have done.

The only questions that matter right now though are did you succeed? And how weren’t you dead? You can’t seem to come to an answer for either though.

A loud muffled noise comes from outside, interrupting your thoughts. Curiosity gets the better of you, as you manage to pull yourself off the bed, ignoring your aching body’s outcry. The second your bare feet meet the cold concrete flooring, you can’t hold in the wince as the temperature makes your bones groan. You push on, slipping through the closed doorway, and glancing around, trying to track the source of the noise. You can’t make out the conversations, not until you’re passing through the halls, hunched over and holding your ribs that ache with every slight movement. It’s only once you’ve been walking around for too long do you deduce that the sounds are coming from the main common room of the warehouse. As you head in that direction, you pass a mirror and actually cringe at the image that stares back.

Yikes.

Any dust and grime that had covered you from the rubble you had most likely been pulled from had been cleared, but you still look as if you have been dragged backward through hell. Small scratches pepper your face, and a massive black eye is forming on the right side of your face. If you thought you could move your arms high enough without wanting to cry, you might have prodded it to make sure it was real. Thank god for small mercies, you suppose.

As you draw closer to the large open doorway of the common room, you see a few people gathered around the entrance, with smiles on their faces. The look confuses you enough to force your feet to scuff along the floor as you stop. The second the noise meets their ears, their heads snap in your direction, and those smiles become grins that are slightly terrifying. How long has it been since you’ve seen faces like that?

“Y/n, you’re awake! I should get someone from the medical team, stay there a second.” An older woman says before quickly jogging back down the hall from which you came. More sound spills out of the room and this time, you can finally catch parts of the conversation.

“I’m going to kill you myself.” Bakugou growls, which doesn’t surprise you. But the fact that his words don’t meet his tone is what surprises you enough to force your legs to move, and to step into the room. Right away, your eyes are drawn towards the cluster of people in the middle of the room. First, you see Sero and Jiro, both looking a bit dishevelled, but mostly okay which has you sighing in relief. The next is the fact that everyone was here… but why? Between the heads of your other friends and comrades, you catch a glimpse of the fiery blonde that has pure murder in his eyes. However, he doesn’t act upon and instead reaches forward and brings someone into a tight embrace.

Oxygen abandons your lungs and for a second, you’re positive that you are hallucinating. Your body is no longer responsive and your mind is an empty void as you try to take in the person before you. He’s still across the room, but you’re asphyxiating under his very presence. His red hair is now black, most likely due to the fact hair dye wasn’t on the list of top priorities of anyone these days, and has also grown out enough to be pulled off his face. It’s so different… but those crimson eyes, ones that gleam like light peaking through rubies is the same… You are dreaming, or dead… you have to be… You had watched your boyfriend die, you had watched Eijiro Kirishima run into a burning building. You had seen the structure fold like paper cards, and you had searched the rubble for days after. You had grieved for two years for the man you had loved since you had first met him in the U.A entrance exams.

There is no logical reason as to how he is now grinning at Bakugou, slapping him on the back with tears filling his eyes. It’s not possible.

It’s not, you searched for so long…

The second he pulls the blonde back into another embrace which earns a string of curses and some laughs, his eyes finally meet yours over Bakugou’s shoulder, and you find yourself transporting back to the day you had lost him.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll be back”. He never came back,

“Get everyone out” You had.

“I’ll meet you at the safe-point soon.” He never did.

You’re gasping for air as your heartbeat thunders inside your head. It blocks out all other noise, and black dots dance within your vision. All of a sudden people are looking at you, and you can see Izuku’s lips moving in your direction, his eyes full of panic as he takes you in but you can’t hear him. You can’t seem to look from the ghost in front of you. No… he’s dead… Kirishima was dead. You have grieved him, you have cried over him, you have mourned the love of your life and still were…

Stepping out of Bakugou’s embrace, the man slowly walks towards you with caution, as if not to spook you. Well, that’s too late because I’m not seeing ghosts so I’m definitely off my rocker. With every step he takes towards you, you find the rise and fall of your chest gaining more and more speed, trying to take in more air, but failing to do so. Within seconds, he’s feet away from you, and you can’t take it. You had wanted this, so much… but it was impossible. Shaking your head, you hold your hands up in front of you to stop him from moving closer. Tears are flooding down your cheeks uncontrollably, and when he takes another step, you physically flinch back, a broken noise emerging from your lips that causes him to freeze. No, you’re dreaming! Wake up y/n! Maybe you’re in hell, and you are going to be forced to relive this again and again, only to lose him. If that’s true… Your eyes roam over Kirishima, looking almost the same as the day you lost him, and you know then your heart can’t take much more. You can’t take it.

“I- I can’t - I can’t…” You know you’re not making sense, and you’re not even sure if your words are actually understandable. But the pain and anguish in his red eyes is so similar to your own, it makes looking at him hurt even more. Kirishima finally walks forwards once more, until he is close enough to hold you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares down at you with so much affection and fondness in his eyes, and so much heartache you feel an echo of it inside your own chest.

“Sorry it took me so long to come back angel, I got a little lost.” oh my god. He says, trying to break the sombre mood with a joke, but you just fall to your knees, weeping and sobbing so hard you can’t breathe. In a split second he’s there holding you, crushing you to his chest so tightly, all you can hear is his heart and all you can smell is his scent. Oh my god, he’s here. He’s actually alive. The thought makes you cry even harder. Oh my god, he is alive.

Eijiro’s alive. Your brain begins to piece it all together. When you had brought the building down… someone grabbing you, a shout. It was him.

You pull back, your trembling hands cupping his wet cheeks as you search his face for any signs that it isn’t him, that it's nothing but a cruel dream. But the pure love swirling in his crimson red eyes and the tears running tracks down his cheeks are enough of an answer. “How I- you didn’t come back. Why? I needed you! And I thought you had died! I thought he had killed you like Hawks… I needed you Eiji, and god I missed you, so so much!” You manage to get out between the sobbing. Your mouth is moving on its own at this point, and you can’t keep up with what it’s saying. You have so much to say, so much to tell him and feel as if you don’t say it now, you’ll suffocate under its weight.

“It’s a long story sweetheart, but I’m here. I’m never leaving your side ever again.” You clutch his shirt beneath your palms, your weeping quieting slightly, and you rest your forehead to his chest, just relishing in the heartbeat you feel beneath your hands. He’s alive. Eijiro’s alive. Your brain repeats it on a loop as if trying to forever engrave the fact into your brain so it will finally sink in that this is reality. You will no longer have to experience a day without his smile, a night without his warmth, a second without his heart.

“I love you. I love you so much, and I missed you so much Eiji I can’t-.” You whisper breaks again as you squeeze your eyes closed, trying to stop another wave of sobs from breaking through. A warm hand gently lifts your chin, and you find yourself staring back up at your first and only love. He’s alive.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before rubbing his nose against yours, his eyes not wavering from your own, as if he blinks, you’ll be gone. “I love you so much y/n, I will always come back to you. Always.”

You couldn’t care that you were in a room full of people, you couldn’t even care if villains showed up out of nowhere. Kirishima was back, he was whole and he was home.

#major character death #blood #swearing #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #eijiro x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #eijiro kirishima fanfic #kirishima eijiro fanfic #kirishima fanfic #eijiro fanfic #bnha #mha #lolswrites #lolsplaysbingo #eijiro kirishima angst #angst with fluff ending

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terra Week Day 7 (Bonds/Fave Scene)

Summary: Terra lets his friends love him. | Word Count: 3,462

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

At the end of the day, your chains weigh a burden. Share them. At the end of the night, your Bonds make you free. Mend them.

The stars wink sometimes, if you stare at them long enough.

Terra’s been lying on his back at the roof of the residential tower, where the slats are at a gentle slope so he’s not doomed to fall off. A small, square window behind him gives him easy access; he and Aqua used to waste many nights at this spot for years. Here, they can watch the sun rise behind the mountains, so they get the best of night and day.

The sound of the window slipping open means she’s here—he just wasn’t expecting the plop of an open book landing in his face.

“Look what I found,” she says, and he pulls darkness out of his eyes to see detailed drawings of a fox with a bow and arrow, talking to a large bear who is spying from behind a bush. Robin Hood and his sidekick, Little John. They used to role play as these characters when they were children for hours. Aqua lies down on the space next to him, careful not to slide too close to the edge.

“Thanks, I was looking for this earlier.”

“It was in the potions section. Do you remember putting it there?” He doesn’t, and she shrugs and rolls over to her side. “I forgot there was a part where he dressed up as a blind beggar to sneak into the prison.”

Terra flips pages. Many of them have multiple bends, bookmarks to areas of the story that the two of them enjoyed to play with. That is one of his favorite scenes, Robin Hood dressing in a long cloak and dark sunglasses to hide the fact that he is a fox (despite that it’s still obvious), shaking a beer jug for coins. Those goons he fooled are so dumb.

“It’s still kind of funny after all these years.”

“You would do something like that.” She hides her smile behind her fingers. “Dress up to trick the enemy so you could sneak in and save the hungry.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

She slaps his bicep. “I am not.”

It’s the greatest compliment he could receive but it’s also the greatest cringe. He’s always wanted to be compared to his hero... yet it’s still something he can’t quite believe, like there’s a twist to the joke, even though Aqua would never. She’d speak from the heart.

“Dress like this with me”—he shows a drawing of Robin Hood and Little John in their signature thief green tunics and hats—“and I’ll believe you.”

She rolls her eyes. “They don’t have any pants on.”

“That’s the point. We’d be wild.” Terra hides a smirk behind his finger.

“Only if you pay me a thousand munny.”

“... You know, that’s not going to be hard to collect.”

“A bold claim.”

“Okay, but if I end up collecting it all—”

“You’re seeing nothing.”

He laughs and she joins him, warm and painful in the stomach, something that hasn’t happened so sincerely since they have come back. Nights so far have been tight and insecure, as though laughing would expose them to an enemy hiding around the corner.

Out here, graced with the breath of fresh air, they’re safe under the guidance of the stars. It feels like a young night when their dreams for the future come uninhibited.

“I talked to Yen Sid,” she says once she’s able to slow down.

“And?” Terra swallows air down the wrong pipe and coughs.

She wipes a tear from her cheek. “I convinced him to change the standards of your Mark of Mastery.” Picking herself up by the elbows, she sighs. “Though I still think it’s unnecessary, if you want my opinion.”

Terra doesn’t agree, flipping towards the end of the book where Robin Hood and his love are sent off by a carriage, free from persecution. “What are the new terms?”

“Everyone is splitting up to look for Sora and… I proposed searching for him in the Realm of Darkness.”

Terra rolls to his side, dropping the book, all joy that stayed with them minutes before now drained away. He speaks softly. “You want to go through that again?”

She purses her lips. “I don’t want to, but if it helps with finding Sora, then what other choice do I have?”

Terra hums. “I understand. It’s just… you’ve been through so much already, Aqua.”

“It’s crazy it’s been twelve years,” she mutters before perking up and pretending it’s not a heavy subject. “If you survive the Realm of Darkness, then Yen Sid will name you Master.”

Terra sputters. “Are you serious?”

She giggles. “Partially, but that did come out of my mouth in the meeting. Ven would want to come with us of course, but Yen Sid is most concerned about your affinity to Darkness… which isn’t fair.” She brings her knees to her chin. “We all carry Darkness, and you have already shown, twice now, that you are able to face yours and defeat it. So, I suggested you come with me and face the Master of Darkness yourself.”

“What do they look like?”

“Whatever you think it looks like.” She shrugs. “Yourself.”

Terra doesn’t know what to say. He traces the ridges of the slats in front of him. The Realm of Darkness is a different plane of existence entirely, one where the rules of Light don’t apply, where logic makes no sense and there’s only the constant pressure of regret and succumbing, based on what he’s read from the books. From what he’s heard from her, Darkness is the never-ending fight of giving yourself reasons to keep waking up the next day—when there’s no reason to.

“Twelve years,” he muses. “I couldn’t have survived if that were me.”

Aqua sombers, watching the horizon for the outlines of mountains that you can only see in the night if you squint. “It’s not so different from what you have told me.” She looks at him. “About Nowhere and not knowing when it would end. If it would ever.”

Terra rolls back to look up at the stars. Darkness gives them room to shine. “So all I have to do is survive while we search for Sora?”

“When you say it like that,” she says with a mock-wave. “You know, twelve years isn’t that long. How about we make it twelve days? Survive twelve days and you’re Master. That sounds fair.”

He does a double-take. “That’s not funny. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m taking a page out of your book and making inappropriate jokes.”

He groans. “This is why you’re not funny.”

“I am, you just won’t admit it.”

He shakes his head, but he can admit it brings a smirk to his face.

The window slips open again with a thud, Ven’s golden head of hair sticking out but not joining them. “You two are the most predictable ever. It was easy to find you.”

“You’re predictable for looking for us,” Terra reminds him.

“Did you find the thing?” Aqua asks, her head leaning back to address him.

“We did.”

That’s right. We. They accepted another member to the family the day of the Master’s memorial, when a talking cat-thing appeared out of nowhere and crashed the end of the eulogy. Terra and Aqua haven’t found a trace of its breed in any of the books in the library (five floors of it). They call it Cheers (because “Chirithy” is a ridiculous name; how in any star can anyone pronounce such a thing?), and every time they ask it questions about its past and how it knows Ven, it responds with more vague questions. Otherwise, it doesn’t offer much opinion. Much like that stupid book, Affairs of the Heart.

But Ven inexplicably has a bond to it, and they are simply going to have to trust his heart.

“What thing are we talking about?” Terra asks.

“Can’t tell you,” Ven quips. “Sworn to secrecy.”

“To who?”

“Come with us, Terra.” Aqua stands up, brushing dust off of her drapes and bending to squeeze through the window.

Just when he was getting comfortable.

Lanterns light the way. Aqua likes to be in charge of how bright they get, and tonight they shine for a feast, bright with a cheery kick, glistening the golden halls of the castle as though it’s sitting in daylight. She marches to the entrance hall where they held their Mark of Mastery years ago. Cheers is already here with two books and a bouquet of flowers on one throne and more knick-knacks on another that Terra doesn’t have a reference for.

“What’s this about?”

“An honorary title ritual.” Ven cranes back into his own arms, proud of himself. “We found a couple of books on how they did it in the Age of Fairytales. A lot of it we can’t translate, but it’s pretty cool.”

“A title ritual?” Terra asks Aqua, who is stroking the middle throne where the Master used to sit, eyes closed in prayer.

“An honorary one.” She brings her hands to her heart. “I believe the Master really wanted to name you Master. And I agree. Riku does, too. I know you want to prove yourself and do it traditionally, but we wanted to do a little something special for you. A title that only we know of so you can keep it to yourself and no one else has to find out.” She steps down. “Until you want them to.”

“Aqua…”

“This is my thanks for what you’ve given me.” She summons Rainfell, and it springs in her hand among glowing petals and a swirl of waves, a second quicker to respond than the aged and wise Defender. She’s whole.

“It looks like so much fun, too,” Ven says with puppy-dog eyes.

“You deserve it,” Aqua says.

“Pfft,” goes Cheers.

“We’re supposed to be equals,” Aqua continues, twirling her Keyblade like it’s as natural as wiggling her fingers. “The Master said so that day.”

“Just say yes.” Ven nudges his elbow. “Roxas already calls you Master.”

Terra coughs on a snort. “Does he?”

“He calls all of us Master for some reason.”

“Maybe it’s because he thinks you’re all old,” Cheers mutters but Ven continues—

“When I tell him there has to be official recognition and an exam, he just shrugs.” He raises his shoulders too high to his ears for a good imitation. “He says, What difference does a dumb test make?” Ven is trying to act voguish, but it makes him look dorky instead. “Master Ventus sounds pret-ty cool if I say so myself.”

“Ahem,” Cheers announces, broadening its arms to command attention. All it needs is a conductor’s baton. “Shall we begin?”

“Do it with us?” Aqua pouts and raises her eyebrows, joining Ven in the ridiculous charade of coaxing Terra into playing along.

Terra huffs. “Okay.”

Both of their faces beam, Aqua throwing a sheepish high-five to Ven’s enthusiastic holler, giggling like they’ve won a game. It’s touching.

“I’ll need your Keyblade,” Aqua says, handing over Rainfell. “Trade?”

“Huh?”

“Standing Masters must accept the Blade of the candidate. To bless it,” Cheers says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“If you say so,” Terra says, straining a chuckle from pouring out in case Cheers gives him a death glare. He summons Earthshaker and lends it to Aqua by the hilt. Rainfell is as light as a feather, as it has always been—he held it when she first called it at the age of thirteen, surprised by the paper-lightness of its weight, wondering How in the stars do you expect to hit anything with this? when he’ll learn the truth later that she hits just as hard as he does.

It doesn’t feel arrogant and big like a Master’s Keyblade. It just feels like Aqua’s, the longest friend he’s ever had.

“Terra. How on earth—?” Aqua grunts and pulls. Earthshaker screeches across the floor, and she takes breaks before inhaling and dragging it more. “So impractical.” She cries a sigh of relief when she reaches the throne.

“Now the masks, in accordance with tradition,” says Cheers, peeking into one of the books.

“Oh.” Ven hurries over to the other throne, grabbing thin, plastic masks Terra’s seen in amusement parks, with the rubber strings that cut into your circulation. “Masks apparently were really fancy in the old days.”

“Yes,” Cheers says. “Made of porcelain and leather. Very tasteful.”

“This is what we got.” Ven showcases three tacky half-face masks of a pig, a bee, and a frog like a deck of cards. “Which one do you want to be?”

Cheers wrinkles its snout in disgust.

“The pig is kind of cute,” Terra says. It’s bright pink, with holes cut out in the eye sockets and a tout nose. The string squeezes him around the temples, so he hopes the ceremony will be quick.

“You be the frog, Aqua.” Ven hands over her mask and dons the bee, complete with springy pom-poms for the antennae.

“Don’t forget the robes,” Aqua says as she slips the frog on, lumpy and shiny, bracing herself so that Earthshaker leans on her hip.

Ven comes back with three of the Master’s hand-me-downs. They smell like dust from a damp dresser. The one given to Terra is too short, and the one Ven is wearing drags on the floor. Aqua’s hangs off the shoulder (We’re going to need to hire a seamstress, she mutters).

“Now we shall truly start,” Cheers says.

“Why does Cheers get to lead this?” Terra asks.

“Because Aqua is the one to honor you and Ven is the witness,” Cheers says. Duh. “Master Aqua, you understand what you must do.”

Aqua holds Earthshaker by the hilt like one of those knights in the attic, its point at the floor. It’s bigger than Rainfell, reaching up to her chest. She gestures for one of the books and Cheers is too eager to turn to the right page and hand it over.

“That book?” Terra rolls his eyes, remembering that no one else can see.

“Yep.” She brings Affairs of the Heart closer to her face, frowning before checking her attitude and reciting:

Thus a wield'r and a cousin, so longeth as thy heart stayeth true, and thy duty vows to who, a mast'r to the endeth, so longeth as thee behold not backeth.

She sniffs and double checks the passage, her chin wrinkling.

“That’s it?” Ven asks. “What the stars does that even mean?”

“You shall also honor your bonds,” Aqua says, whipping her nose out of the book.

“You’re improvising,” Terra says.

“And never scare me again.”

“Mmm—”

She slams the book on his head with enough pressure to make him nod. “Say yes.”

“Yes, Master.”

She chuckles.

“Now we shower the room with flowers,” Cheers says.

Ven gathers up the flowers he plucked—a mix of withering vanity plants, such as tulips, and weeds, such as dandelions late into their development, where they spit white fuzz.

“That’s all you have?” Aqua says.

“It’s late into the season,” Ven says, defensive. “And you didn’t want to wait too long for me to get more.”

He throws them and they droop down to the ground, crinkling on the floor in an unceremonious finish and lack of climax. Terra brushes two petals off of his shoulder.

Cheers stares in contempt. “Well… it is done.”

“Now I call you,” Aqua says, licking her lips as they tremble, and she stops to cup her cheek and compose herself. “Master Terra.”

Master Terra.

He doesn’t know how to feel when she leans his Keyblade toward him. Earthshaker feels the same–not more powerful, not more wise, but a friend patting his back. But what for?

“Has a nice ring to it,” Ven says. “Master Terra.”

“How do you feel?” Aqua says, slipping fingers under her mask to wipe her eyes.

“I don’t know, I guess I expected to feel… something that justifies it all. But I’m still me.”

“Isn’t ‘me’ the person who spent all these years studying for Mastery?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make sense in my head.”

“I felt the same way,” Aqua says quietly. Cheers is closing books and picking up dry flower petals, urging Ven to help. “Without you by my side, it just felt… a little empty and confusing.”

“I never congratulated you.”

“I’ll do it first. Congratulations.” She smirks, her cheek wet under the frog mask.

Terra pulls off his mask—ignoring Cheers when it squeaks, Excuse me, but that must stay on for the rest of the night out of respect for your appearance—and studies her. “What’s that look for?”

Aqua pulls hers off as well, her eyes red but soft and happy. “I want to see Yen Sid’s face when he names you Master and I get to tell him that I already did.”

He snorts. “What if he objects?”

“What if he’s too stuck up in past grievances and can’t appreciate you for who you are or what you’ve accomplished?” Cradling Rainfell in the grip of her hand, she nods to herself. “Who gives him a say? I spent twelve years in the Realm of Darkness. Not him. There were some things the Master was wrong about. Do you know why that is?”

Terra wants to say it’s because the Master was afraid, but he won’t speak over her. “Why?”

She looks away at a wall, blinking too much. “I’ll never use it again. It makes me feel like I’m not thinking straight, that I’m too close in making a fatal mistake I can’t take back. But I can’t help but feel there’s a purpose for it. Darkness exists not to put us astray on our path but to help us understand ourselves and our needs better.” When she speaks with this much conviction, Aqua seems the tallest in the group. “Within us, it needs comfort as much as the Light needs faith.”

“That’s what makes the heart strong enough to protect what matters.”

Aqua smiles. “That’s why.” When he’s about to object, she places a hand on his shoulder. “The Master is no longer with us. If you continue like this, who’s to say you’ll be okay with Yen Sid accepting you as well?”

She’s right. “I just think I need to do more to atone.”

“Atone?”

“I faced the Darkness, and maybe I’ve won. Sure.” Terra shrugs, and the change in tone catches Ven attention, who ignores his immediate chores to come close and remove his mask. “But I’m still missing the same Light you have, Aqua. The one that made you, Master, as you deserve. Mine is not that strong.”

Ven sighs.

Aqua opens her mouth to say something but stops herself, searching his eyes with a gentle mix of love and skepticism. “There’s something I never told you.” She rubs her palms together. “In the Dark Realm, I… there were many moments where I wanted to give up.

“I saw you once, a bright light standing in front of me. You talked to me. You protected me from Xehanort, and you told me to never give up.” She breaks, swiping her eyes and sniffling loudly, willing her body to breathe normally.

Terra stares at her. “I thought I made that up.”

“No,” she says, smiling and shaking. “You never stopped lighting me back, either.”

Ven holds her hand, silently crying with her. He looks up at Terra, as he’s done for years, worshipping the ground Terra walks in, thinking he is a prime example of what a Keybearer should be. They did this because they believe in him.

“Thanks for doing this for us,” Ven says quietly, and Aqua nods in agreement. And Terra takes them in his arms, Aqua under his right and Ven under his left, letting them sink their faces into his chest and wraps their arms around his waist.

“Thank you for always being there.” Terra doesn’t know what else to say that would measure what they mean to him. Forgiveness is not a real friend, and they don’t have reasons to give it to him, but he hugs them close without going too tight, his tears falling on their crowns.

“We still have things to clean up,” Cheers mutters.

“Come here.” Ven opens an arm to which Cheers happily accepts, nuzzling its nose into Ven’s neck. It’s only cheerful with him. Terra is most cheerful with all of them. A broken home renovated, a hearth revived, a clear sunrise over the mountains.

Those who know him as Master Terra hold onto him dearly, under a night sky that waits behind stained glass in a moment they keep to themselves, where the future is irrelevant and the past goes to sleep.

#terra #kh terra #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #aqua #ventus #AHHHH it's finally done OMG #i'm so burnt out and tired hahaha #my fic

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 3: Pack Mentality

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Derek is *ominous* and Scott is a dumbass.

----------

“I don’t know, it just feels like something is off.” Allison groaned from beside me.

Lydia, who was heading to lunch with us on my other side, rolled her eyes. I couldn’t really blame her. Allison had been complaining about Scott’s odd behavior this morning for the past five minutes. Apparently, he was avoiding her.

It’d been exactly one week since my weird encounter with Scott and Stiles last Friday. I hadn’t spoken to either of them since. Stiles had tried cornering me in the halls on several occasions, but I managed to get away each time. I honestly wanted nothing to do with them or their supernatural problems.

I just wanted to be normal for once.

So imagine my horror when Lydia went straight for their table in the cafeteria. Allison looked all too happy for another chance to talk to Scott, but I just stood frozen in place.

I knew it wouldn’t be possible to avoid them forever—Beacon Hills isn’t a huge town—but I wasn’t ready to confront them again yet. As I finally approached the table after everyone else, the two boys stared at me before sharing a long look.

Well, that can’t mean anything good.

“Why are they sitting with us?” Stiles leaned across the table to ask Scott, who just shrugged, as we all sat down. Man, someone needs to teach this guy how to whisper.

Scott ended up sandwiched between Lydia and Allison. Danny plopped down beside Stiles and Jackson took the chair at the head of the table. The only option left for me was on Stiles’ other side, so I begrudgingly sat there. I felt his eyes on me but did my best to ignore it.

“So, I hear they’re saying it was some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar?” Danny played with his apple and leaned his elbows on the table.

I assumed he was talking about the poor man who’d been brutally attacked in one of the school busses overnight. There were enough rumors going around school to host an entire newscast, but no one really knew anything for sure.

“I heard mountain lion.” Jackson corrected.

“A cougar is a mountain lion.” Lydia muttered, seemingly embarrassed to know that fact. She constantly downplayed her intelligence, but I knew she was practically a genius.

Jackson furrowed his brows at her in annoyance. “Who cares? The guy was probably just some homeless tweaker who was gonna die anyway.”

Stiles put down his half peeled orange and fished his phone from his back pocket. Within seconds he had a news article about the incident pulled up.

“Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.” He put his phone in the middle of the table so everyone could see.

I had to lean forward to get a glimpse of the small screen, which had my shoulder just a couple inches shy of resting on Stiles’ arm. I chewed on my bottom lip as I felt the warmth from his body. He let out a quick huff and stiffened beside me, so I took that as a sign to back away. My cheeks grew hot as I leaned back into my chair and avoided his wandering gaze.

The video he played stated that the victim was a bus driver for the district. Stiles and Scott shared a wide-eyed look that told me there was more to the story before Lydia changed the subject to a double date she wanted Allison and Scott to go on tonight.

They both looked uncomfortable with the idea, but eventually agreed, even after Jackson said it would be more fun to stab himself in the face with his fork than hangout with Scott. A little dramatic, if you ask me. But whatever. I was just glad I wouldn’t have to sit through it with them.

Lunch ended shortly after, and everyone dissipated quickly. I had plans to meet Allison at our lockers after school so she could drive me home in her new car, but I wouldn’t see any of my friends until then.

I collected my things and stood to leave, but stopped when a hand wrapped around my bicep.

“Not so fast.” It was Stiles. He looked from side to side before leaning only a few inches away and once again failing at whispering. “Have you told them?”

“Told who what?” I decided to play dumb and he cocked his head at me in annoyance.

“Come on, Y/N. You know what I mean. The wolfy stuff?” He waved his free hand around as he talked.

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with you, Scott, or the supernatural.” I tried to make that sound believable. It wasn’t that I was lying. Its’s just, without all the weird things going on, I would love to be both his and Scott’s friends. I just couldn’t risk getting involved in this kind of thing.

His eyes twitched at me and I sighed. “I don’t plan on telling anyone.”

“Okay. Good. Because Derek and Scott? They can’t afford...”

Out of nowhere, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. Stiles’ voice faded away until all I could hear was a low ringing in my ears. The ground tilted beneath me and I stumbled to the side, growing faint. Stiles’ eyes widened and he pulled me upright with the hand that was still holding onto me.

I could see his lips moving, but no sound reached my ears. It was like his words had somehow triggered an episode. I closed my eyes tightly but instantly regretted that decision as images flashed through my mind quickly. It was Scott, fighting someone. Or something. He was in a dilapidated building that looked like it was going to crumble to the ground any second.

After a moment I realized it was the Hale house, and the monster he was fighting was Derek. He looked different. Almost animalistic. Like...a wolf.

I gasped myself out of the vision, and Stiles’ panicked voice filled my ears in a rush.

“What is that? What are you doing? Are you having a stroke or something?”

I tried to catch my breath and piece together everything I’d just seen. Whatever it was, I gathered that Scott would be in serious danger if he came anywhere near Derek today. I hesitated, not wanting to sound crazy, but then remembered Stiles had just seen that whole thing.

“You can’t let Scott go to Derek’s tonight.” I sounded way more worried than I’d meant to as I hurried to get the words out.

“Derek?” Stiles’ thin brows pinched in question. “We had him arrested a few days ago.”

I blinked, surprised. I knew he was in jail, because I’d heard the Sheriff talking in the hall this morning about his upcoming release. But I had no idea Scott and Stiles were to blame. That might explain why Derek would want to kill Scott...

“You didn’t hear? He was released this morning. They determined the animal that attacked the bus driver was a...” I trailed off, my eyes growing wide as I put the pieces together. “Wolf.”

Stiles’ face mirrored the horror I felt inside as he finally let go of my arm and stumbled back a few steps. “Yeah. We’re dead.”

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

I fidgeted with my hands in my lap as I sat on Allison’s bed. She and Lydia were picking out what they wanted to wear for their double date tonight, but I could hardly focus on a word they were saying.

My stomach was in knots and my anxiety was only rising with each passing minute. I didn’t even know Scott well, but the thought of him being killed by Derek was still unsettling. I’d already figured out that Derek is a werewolf. And most likely a murderer.

The police and hospital staff determined that a wolf killed the bus driver, but there haven’t been any wolf sightings in Beacon Hills for nearly sixty years.

Yes, I looked it up.

All signs pointed to Derek, and I could feel that my earlier vision was getting progressively closer to coming true. I had no idea how, but if my jitters were any indication, nothing good was coming.

“Y/N?” I snapped back into the present at the sound of Lydia’s voice.

I looked up from my hands to see that both of them were staring at me expectantly.

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “What?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “I said, Allison’s taste is dwindling by the minute. Don't you agree? Come take a look.”

I hesitantly joined them at her closet and flicked through her clothes. They weren't terrible by any means. Definitely not mine or Lydia’s style, but they didn't have to be. I found a black shirt with glittering sequins on the front and pulled it free.

“What about this?”

Lydia hummed and watched Allison hold it up after she’d taken it from me.

Just then, Allison’s bedroom door popped open gently. Her dad walked in with a pleasant smile on his lips. He was pulling his arms through a green jacket that complimented his red flannel shirt, but stopped with one arm still free.

His eyes traveled over the three of us. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

Lydia threw herself on the bed and landed with one arm propped beneath her head and the other on her hip. What the hell was she doing and why was she making that seductive face? “Hey, Mr. Argent.”

Allison tucked her hair behind her ears and dropped the shirt beside Lydia. “Dad. Did you need something?”

Her demeanor had instantly changed the second he walked in. I knew they had a good relationship for the most part, but she clearly didn’t approve of him being in here right now.

“I wanted to tell you that you’re staying in tonight.” He continued putting on his jacket casually, as if he didn’t just ruin her plans.

“What? I’m going out with my friends tonight.” Her eyes widened in shock at his words.

I suddenly felt out of place. The last thing I wanted to listen to was one of my friends fighting with their parents. It just was plain awkward. Lydia sat up on the bed and I could’ve sworn I saw a little disappointed frown pull at her lips.

“Not while some animal is out there attacking people.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe that Allison wanted to leave the house at all.

I mean, he had a point. There was a psycho killer out there. They just didn’t know that it also happened to be a mythical creature. And a brooding recluse in leather.

“Dad! I... I’m—” Allison raised her voice and threw her arms down in frustration.

“Hey, hey.” Her dad interrupted with a stern look. “It’s out of my hands. There’s a curfew. No one’s allowed out past nine thirty.”

I had actually forgotten about that. It was pretty dumb, really. It wasn’t like an animal would look at the clock and say, “Oh, crap. It’s not nine thirty yet. Can’t attack anyone for ten more minutes.”

Allison’s dad turned to leave and she huffed. Looks like they’ll have to find another way to go on their date.

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

It was nearly midnight now, and I hadn’t heard any grief filled screaming from next door, so I figured Scott was okay. The car in the driveway let me know that his mom was home and I took that as another good sign. He probably was too. I needed to stop freaking out.

I was home alone, which didn’t help. There wouldn’t be anyone here to distract me from my mounting anxiety until five in the morning, when mom got off of work. To pass the time, I put on a random trash reality show and laid mindlessly on the couch.

I didn’t want to think right now. I wanted a distraction from the craziness that was ensuing all around me, and TV was always reliable.

I nearly had a heart attack when someone began aggressively banging on the front door. It wasn’t even close to normal knocking. No, it was I’m being chased by an axe murderer and you need to let me in right now before I’m decapitated kind of hammering.

I jumped to my feet and jogged to the door to see who it was, afraid something was wrong. I pressed my eye to the peep hole and frowned in confusion, the wood vibrating beneath my fingers. The incessant pounding continued up until the very moment I swung the door open.

I stared expectantly at the boy in front of me, who still had his right hand raised as if he were going to continue trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood.

“Scott’s not home.” Stiles somehow managed to be out of breath from the short walk between our houses.

A few tense beats of silence passed between us as I waited for him to continue. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to, I prodded. “And?”

“And that’s bad. Very very bad.”

I let my eyes sweep over him, half convinced that he was drunk or something. He wasn’t making any sense. For starters, why would I care if Scott is home or not? And why was he in such a frenzy over it? It looked like he’d jumped out of bed and ran straight here. He was only wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a grey t-shirt with a skull on it, so I knew he hadn’t taken his time in getting ready. If he had, he’d be wearing at least two other layers.

“I already checked Allison’s. His mom thought he was still on the date. He isn’t answering any of my texts.” Stiles was rambling, clearly very worked up.

I moved to pull my phone out of my back pocket. “I’ll just call Allison, I’m sure she knows where—”

“No!” Stiles slapped it out of my hand and I watched as it clattered onto the concrete a few feet away.

My jaw dropped in shock and his eyes widened as if realizing what he just did. He stood frozen for a moment before scooping it up and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket.

“Are you crazy? Give that back.” I took a small step outside, but didn’t go far. I still wasn't wearing any shoes.

He shook his head quickly. “He has to be at Derek’s. You’re coming with me.”

“Okay, now I know you’re crazy.” I let out a humorless laugh but grew serious again when he just stared at me with his wide caramel eyes. “Why would I come with you?”

“All I have is my Jeep and a baseball bat, but I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m slightly terrified. And I have your phone.”

I frowned. So he was holding it hostage now. There was no way I would ever willingly set foot on that property again. The last time I was there, I saw half of a dead body. I did not want to see the other half. Or a new dead body, like Scott’s.

There was absolutely no way.

——————

The Jeep skidded to a stop outside the Hale house. It was so abrupt that I whipped forward in the passenger seat, my face just barely missing the dashboard due to my seatbelt.

Stiles sent me a sheepish, lopsided smile before bolting from the car. I rolled my eyes up to the sky and sighed. I was so going to regret this.

I jumped out and followed him to the front door, noticing that Scott’s bike was laying beside the porch. I silently pointed at it and Stiles stiffened as he stood with one hand on the door. That wasn’t exactly a good sign.

Suddenly, Scott’s voice echoed from inside.

“Derek! I know you’re here. I know what you did!” He sounded frantic.

Stiles immediately ran into the house and I had no choice but to follow. Scott whipped around at the sound of the door slamming open. His wide eyes moved from Stiles to me in confusion.

“I didn't do anything.” Derek’s disembodied voice drifted from somewhere upstairs.

Seemingly forgetting about our existence, Scott turned back to the wide staircase in front of him.

“You killed him!” He called upward.

He must be talking about the bus driver. It was only logical that Derek was the murderer, but why Scott thought it was a good idea to confront him about it, I had no idea. He must have a death wish. My heart started hammering in my chest. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy.

“He died...” Derek responded, sounding as ominous as ever.

Scott took the first step. “Like your sister died?”

His sister?

“My sister was missing.” His voice raised a little in anger. He was still nowhere to be seen. “I came here looking for her.”

“Well, you found her.” Scott continued moving up the stairs slowly, looking for Derek with each movement.

“I found her in pieces! Being used as bait to catch me!” His voice echoed throughout the entire house now as he grew louder. Scott was pissing him off, which was quite possibly the dumbest thing I’d ever witnessed.

Oh, shit. The body in the yard was his sister. My blood ran cold. What kind of sick bastard kills their own family? Being here was such a bad idea.

Scott was at the top of the stairs now, turning in circles slowly. “I think you killed them both, and I’m going to tell everyone. Starting with the sheriff.”

Stiles stiffened beside me at the mention of his father. I didn’t blame him. He may be the sheriff, but that didn't exactly qualify him to investigate supernatural murders. I saw a shadow shift upstairs and my heart plummeted into my stomach.

“Watch out!” I called, but it was too late.

Derek appeared from the darkness and shoved Scott down the stairs violently. I gasped and covered my mouth as he tumbled down like a rag doll. Derek just stood at the top, watching. Stiles jerked into motion, running to his side as he lay crumbled on the hardwood floors.

Scott pushed himself up to his knees and groaned. Then, he lifted his head and growled loudly at Stiles. His eyes widened in fear and he stumbled back, falling on his ass. He scrambled away as fast as he could, rejoining my side.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes, my jaw almost hitting the floor. Scott looked half animal, half human. His eyes were glowing bright yellow, his brow was thicker, his ears were pointy, and he had deadly long canines. His fingernails had been replaced by lethal claws. He was in full werewolf mode.

Derek jumped down the entire staircase in one fluid motion. When he landed gracefully on his feet, Stiles gripped my arms and tugged me backwards. I stumbled into him, my back hitting his chest, but I was too shocked by the sight before me to move away. We ducked down beside the staircase.

The two werewolves stared at each other for a long moment before Scott clutched the lapels of Derek’s jacket and threw him into the air. I couldn’t help but gasp as he went flying through a nearby wall. Scott was strong as hell, which would be cool in any other situation, but right now it was kind of terrifying. The house fell into silence as Derek collected himself in the other room.

“Get out of here.” Scott growled in our direction, his voice thick and guttural.

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was about to do just that, when Derek came striding back into the foyer. I froze in a half crouched position until Stiles pulled me back down against him. If we weren't in danger right now, I would've blushed at our close proximity. My back was pressed to his chest again, and he had a hand clasped around one of my shoulders to hold me in place.

“That was cute.” Derek slowly removed his leather jacket and discarded it on the floor.

Oh, God. That couldn't be good.

The two beasts growled at each other while walking in circles before Derek suddenly lifted Scott by the shoulders and slammed him back into a wall right in front of where we hid. Stiles let go of my shoulder to grip one of my hands tightly as we stumbled up the stairs, having nowhere else to go.

Derek looked utterly petrifying. He was way bigger than Scott, and clearly stronger. He was pretty much handing him his ass in this fight already, but it looked like he was holding back at the same time. I didn’t doubt for a second that he could easily end it at any moment.

He landed punch after punch, and all Stiles and I could do was watch. At that moment, I realized he hadn’t even brought his bat inside. We were utterly useless.

It seemed to go on forever. Scott landed some punches, but it was nothing compared to the damage Derek was doing. I let out a shaky breath when I realized I’d been holding it in for several seconds. I cringed as Derek lifted Scott into the air by his neck, only to slam him down onto the floor. He repeated this action several times, until Scott was left groaning on the ground in a crumpled heap.

Then, they both shifted back to normal.

“I didn’t kill him.” Derek clenched his fists and took a threatening step toward Scott. “Neither of us did. It’s not your fault, and it’s not mine.”

“This? This is all your fault! You ruined my life!” Scott, being the dumbass that he is, got in Derek’s face and yelled his frustrations.

“No, I didn’t.” Derek insisted, raising his voice a little too.

“You’re the one who bit me.”

“No, I’m not.”

I shifted uncomfortably beside Stiles. It looked like the fighting was over, but that didn't make me want to be here any more. This place would give me the creeps even if there weren’t two werewolves bickering in front of me.

“This seems like a private conversation.” I muttered and popped to my feet. He spazzed out and grabbed my arms quickly.

“Are you insane?” He forced me back down with a glare.

“What?!” Scott suddenly shouted, and I jumped.

“I’m not the one who bit you.”

Scott fell back onto a nasty green couch behind him. That news had taken the air right from his lungs. He stared at the dusty floors for a long moment, processing. “There’s another...”

“Its called an alpha. It’s the most dangerous of our kind. You and I, we’re betas. This thing is more powerful, more animal, than either of us. My sister came here looking for him. Now I’m trying to find him, but I don’t think I can do it without you.” Derek was looking at Scott intensely, urging him to listen. To help him.

I wasn't entirely sure that he was even telling the truth. It really did look like he killed that girl. His sister. Half of her was buried in his yard, for God’s sake. We didn't know him at all. Why should be just believe him?

“Why me?” Scott asked breathlessly. It seemed he was a lot more willing to go along with this.

“Because he’s the one that bit you.” I stiffened. Didn't that mean they were somehow connected? I’d done as much reading about werewolves as possible, but there wasn't as much online as you would think.

“You’re part of his pack. It’s you, Scott. You’re the one he wants.”

“You don't believe this, do you?” I whispered to Stiles, who shook his head solemnly.

“Not for a second.”

Episode 2, Part Two Episode 4

104 notes · View notes

pandoraswrld · 3 years

Text

FALLEN GRACE

— in which kasper is sick

characters / oh aejung, kasper yang

words / 2k

warnings / mentioned drug use, vomit/throwing up, bad vibes all around — if i missed anything please let me know!

수파 at 9:31: aej

수파 at 9:36: aejung

Aejung hadn’t seen the string of messages Kasper had sent her within the last hour, she had no immediate reason to, she had only just gotten back to the dorms a couple minutes ago.

This was one of the few nights she had picked out to hang out with the girls, ones she had promised them all when she moved out only a few months ago. The whole event had been planned to the detail by her: go out with the girls and do what they like and then come back to the dorms and stay the night there. It was pretty simple, and it was supposed to be a fun night.

After having spent hours walking around with everyone, Aejung was glad to finally reach home and call it a day. She missed her bed back at the dorm and it was the perfect opportunity to indulge in the freshly washed sheets she had left there.

She had only kicked off her shoes before she realised her phone had been blowing up with notifications, each one a message from Kasper slowly getting more and more concerning and ending with several missed calls.

수파 at 9:43: aejung please answer me please

수파 at 9:43: please answer me i need you i’m so scared

수파 at 9:44: help me

She almost raced to her contacts, immediately calling him after reading each text. He picked up quickly but there was no noise coming from his end, rather just the static of his phone taking up the space.

“Kasper what’s wrong? Where are you?” Aejung was worried now, even when he was high with her he never talked like this, and to be greeted with nothing but silence? She couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t know what’s happening, I’m at home but please, please just help me.” She sensed urgency in his voice, an urgency she hated hearing. Fuck she had no idea what to do.

“Okay just stay where you are and I’ll come to you, please don’t do anything bad before I get there.” She hung up the phone and ran towards the apartment door, barely stopping to grab her coat and keys.

It’s times like this that Aejung is glad she finally got her driving license. She knows it’s a more mundane thought to have right now, especially when her boyfriend seemed to be having the worst experience of his life but she had to fill her head full of mundane thoughts, anything to get the idea of something seriously wrong happening to leave her head.

With the rate she was going at she was surprised she made it all the way to their apartment without getting caught for speeding. The elevator had never seemed slower than it did as she waited for it to bring her to the right floor, speeding out to their apartment as soon as she saw the door opening to the familiar hallway.

“Kasper!” She called out his name, worried when she couldn’t see him slouching on the sofa like he always did.

“I’m in here.” His voice was so weak, she wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the sound of anything else.

Aejung slammed the front door shut and ran towards the bedroom, finding his limp body only a few centimetres away from the pool of vomit near the door, the sight almost made her tear up.

“What did you take?” Aejung threw herself onto the floor beside him, careful not to step in the vomit.

“Please just hold me.” He sounded exhausted, his sluggish body heaped on the floor and his head just barely resting on the edge of the bed.

She pulled his body into her arms so that his head rested over her shoulders and his legs were laid over her own. He seemed so lifeless, like some doll that she could just throw about.

This wasn’t the man she had known for the past three years. A couple of months ago he would have been the one cradling her in his arms, stroking her hair and singing her to sleep. She didn’t mind, she thinks she shouldn’t anyways, she likes taking care of him but this time was different. He was different.

Still, she continued to run her hands up and down his back and hum some childish lullaby, anything to get him to calm down, “It’s okay, this will be over soon.”

“I-I took a tab, I think, Insung gave it to me.” He was shuddering, clearly cold despite the warmth radiating around the room.

“You took something from Insung?” Aejung knows she can’t be mad, not in this moment, he was too vulnerable. Really she should place her frustrations with Sera but that’s at the back of her mind once Kasper starts talking again.

“He said I would be fine, I thought I would be fine, b-but I don’t know what happened. I was just thinking about you and then the next thing I know I’m throwing up and suddenly everything was so dark.” God, he sounded so scared, she hated seeing him like this.

“How long has it been since you took the tab?” She kept her voice calm, she didn’t want to freak him out even more.

“I know that I took it at around three but god it feels like it’s been so long Aejung, is it still the ninth?” He looked up at her and she had to hold herself back from sobbing right there.

She caught his eyes first, his eyes that were once so full of love just staring back at her entirely empty and dilated. She saw that his eyes were now accompanied by incredibly dark circles in the space where they once were faint, Aejung used to adore his eyes.

She chose to exhale deeply, a shaky breath exiting her mouth before she began to speak, “It’s about ten o’clock now which means you’re seven hours into a trip, but it’s okay I’ll stay here with you for the rest of it.”

“But weren’t you doing something with the girls today– oh god I’m keeping you here, I’m so sorry.” There was genuine concern in his voice, it was unmistakable and it only made it harder for Aejung to want to stay.

“Please, it’s okay.” She rests his head back down on her shoulder and goes back to rubbing circles on his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He just kept repeating those same words over and over until he had stopped shaking.

Something had changed in the room. Aejung wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the only thing she could see was the streetlight through his window or the fact that both of them were crying silently, almost as if they didn’t want to alert the other of their tears.

“We have got to get you into a better mood!” Aejung tried to be positive as she wiped her tears away and quickly put on a lighter voice.

“I feel like I’m going to die.” Aejung supposed that she shouldn’t take his statement to heart, people say all kinds of things on acid but he just kept on repeating it.

Over and over the words rattled in her head, slowly going from “I feel like” to “I’m going to die” and she simply couldn’t put a stop to them. She couldn’t be here, she couldn’t deal with the thought, but there’s no way she could leave. She was stuck, with her boyfriend breaking down in her arms, she had nowhere to go. This was her home now, he was her home and she couldn’t just leave him here.

“Please, stop.” She sighed, “You’re not going to die, I’m going to make sure of it.”

“How do you know that? This feels like the end Aej, I’m scared.”

“I know you are, but you’re strong, you can do this!” She tried believing her own words but it was so hard when he just seemed to be decomposing in front of her.

“Oh god I’m gonna be sick again.” Aejung took that seriously, trying to pull both herself and the five foot ten man towards his bathroom as quickly as she could.

She had only made it about halfway there before he had thrown up again, thankfully nowhere near anything important.

Aejung slumped back down to the floor, her back leaning against his bedroom wall. She was going to have to clean this up at some point, wanting to groan at the thought.

Out of all the thoughts she had processed within the last hour the ones that hurt her the most were her own musings of the situation. She wished and wished that Kasper hadn’t texted her, that she could’ve just gone to bed and got the sleep she had desperately been needing. She knew it was selfish of her to think such thoughts but it also wasn’t her job to take care of a grown man through a bad trip, actually it wasn’t her job to take care of him at all. It was his.

Every time, Kasper always promised to be safe, he always told her where he was going, what he was doing and with who. He trusted her, she trusted him, and they respected that all throughout their relationship. She didn’t have to ask him to tell her things and yet he decided to keep this one hidden, she reckons this is his consequence but she shouldn’t think such things.

“Do you want to lay down on the bed, it’s comfier.” She tried talking to him again.

He simply nodded at her words and tried getting himself up this time. His arm was slung over Aejung’s back, desperately leaning into her as they both walked over to bed and laid themselves down side by side.

Aejung’s hand went over to brush the stray white hairs out of his eyes. He was beautiful, he always was, even in his moments of fallen grace.

“I don’t – no – I can’t sleep, not now, not tonight.” The panic started rising in Kasper’s again. She sat up, preparing herself for just about anything from him now.

“Why not, love?” She tried her best to be understanding, using a mellow voice and leaving her hand over his, but she wanted nothing more than to be asleep.

“I won’t wake up, I just know it.” There he goes, Aejung expects another mortifying rant from him to take up the next few minutes, “I feel it Aejung, like the moment I drift off that that will be the end for me.”

“I will watch over you, think of me as your guardian angel,” She gave him a tired smile, “As your angel, I don’t think I’m ready to let you go just yet.”

Kasper noticeably softened, his once tense expression now painted with soft lines and the glimpse of a smile. His knuckles were no longer white as he loosened his grip on the blanket and Aejung could’ve sworn she saw his familiar brightness begin to fill up his face again.

“You know you’re glowing right now,” he looked up at her as though she were the only thing in the world.

“Am I?”

“Mmmh, you’re glowing slightly golden, just like how I imagined you would.” She can’t begin to fathom what Kasper was seeing with his brain on acid but hearing his words made her feel warm inside. They made her feel loved, probably for the first time that night.

“Does that make you feel better?”

He nodded, shuffling up the bed to sit by her side. His head rested on her shoulder ever so delicately, he seemed calm. Aejung only hoped that he had finally made it out of the deep end.

Everything seemed as it normally would, Kasper and Aejung hand in hand, resting on their shared bed with only the fluorescent beams of the streetlight outside highlighting their faces. Aejung finally felt at peace, her fingertips were no longer cold and her heartbeat attempted to match Kasper’s. He had finally stopped thinking at sixty miles per hour and enjoyed the slowed moment, trying his best to push all the dark thoughts out of his brain.

Aejung was his guardian angel, she was there to protect him. He couldn’t fall tonight, not any more than he already had. For now, both of them could just revel in the moment of comfortable silence between them, all worries to be left for another day.

#bobakocnet #aeskocnet #aejung — dev #oc — kasper #kpop oc #kpop oc group #fake kpop idol #fake kpop group #this is not my best writing piece but it’s super emotional for me and i’m happy with it so that’s all that matters

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goodpeachtea · 4 years

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥. (𝟎𝟏)

Summary: People could say that Baby was crazy, so they could say that hell is more preferable than spending a day with her. Baby agreed. But no one could say that the girl was not a genius or that she was like everyone else. Baby Jones was special - yes, she could be a nicer special type, but anyway, special.

Couple: Spencer Reid x OC.

Words: 3.9K

Warnings: Cigarettes, mention of murder, slightly PTSD, language.

Author’s Note: In case you want to know, the fanfic starts in the middle-end of the third season - and I hope it goes to infinity and beyond! Many of the cases we will see here are original (including the one briefly mentioned in the first chapter). Hope you like it :)

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(𝟎𝟏). 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖤𝖦𝖨𝖭𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖮𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖤𝖭𝖣.

JINGLE BELLS PLAYED IN THE BACKGROUND. Children laughed, adults toasted and Baby Jones felt this strange discomfort in her chest as she turned the pages of Alice in Wonderland. The child wanted to be reading one of the "grown-up" classics but was caught trying to reach David Copperfield, causing an accident that involved Les Misérables falling on her head - that experience could be compared to being hit by a brick. December 25th was a big day for the Jones family (more than it was for the other families). The unique and loved Baby was born in Christmas and, as much as she didn’t aprecciated much events like that at a young age, even the most distant cousins came from afar to celebrate the mix of birthday with Christmas.

Baby could have sworn she saw figures out the window, but supposed it was just in her head. Before turning her eyes to the book she was reading, she observed all of her family members as happy as ever - almost as if they knew that this would be the last party they were going to celebrate - with a slight smile and noticed her parents approaching. "We have a gift for you, dear," said her mother Marie Ann.

– I have to admit that I was totally against it, but your sister is good with sweet talk, no wonder she is a lawyer. – Said her father, Thomas Jones, pointing to Baby's older sister, who smiled and gave a little thumbs up (after playing an important role in the accident that led to Baby's name, the smart Amelie always insisted in pampering the peculiar child).

The eight-year-old Jones smiled, realizing that the gift was a book the second she put her eyes on the package. She opened the red package slowly, loving to see the suffering in the eyes of those who waited anxiously to see her reaction. She opened her mouth in genuine surprise when she saw David Rossi's book in her hands, thanking her parents and siblings who watched her from afar. The girl had wanted that book for a long time, but her parents insisted that it was worrying for a girl her age to read a book about serial killers.

The Jones were not nearly the perfect family, but they were a good family. They were extremely genuine and fun, and their children couldn't be much different. The oldest was Amelie, 26 years old. She was extremely studious and hardworking, but when she met her family, Mellie was the same old goofy and good sister and daughter. Then there was Owen. The computer genius was 21 years old and was a problem for his neighbors, but everyone who approached him enough could only see kindness and fun in the Jones children. The youngest of the family was AJ (short for Alexander Jones, but he decided to hate the name early). The little one was only five, but it was the family's energy boost, always playing pranks and cheering others up.

Then there was Baby left. Nobody could understand her very well (and that was reason enough to send her to the psychologist early) and she didn't seem to care that much. It was a fact that the second youngest in the Jones family was loved by her family, but that did not stop her strange behavior from always standing out.

And everything changed in a snap. The night of December 25 until 20:11 that was perfect suddenly turned into Hell. And suddenly, "bang!", the beginning of the end.

The only Jones gasped, and with wide eyes she rose from the bed, sighing heavily. Her brain quickly processed that it was all just a goddamn dream tormenting her again, causing teenage Jones to swallow, closing her eyes in relief and wiping the cold sweat from her forehead and neck. She looked at the digital clock on her head table, seeing the numbers 4:18AM flashing red (so she blew out a surprised breath, noting that she managed to sleep more than usual).

Baby opened her windows and checked that her door was locked, thanking that today Sophie decided that she would want to sleep with the other children. Jones tied her red hair awkwardly, opening her desk drawer and under her coat she found the pack of cigarettes she shouldn't be using, taking out a lighter from the same place and throwing herself on the bed, lighting a cigarette and looking at the ceiling .

The teen took the first drag and as she blew out the smoke, her heart calmed down and for a moment no part of her mind was in 10 years ago, the nightmare of just now being slightly forgotten. Jones hated being part of statistics, but what could she do when she went through times of crisis? She didn't drink hidden or smoke in the corners because other teenagers did, Baby did it because she needed to - or at least she thought she did.

She closed her eyes in anger and tightened her jaw when between a drag and another flashes of the final days of 1997 invaded her head. Baby jumped up from the bed, pausing for a second before punching her mirror, thinking about the noise it would cause, waking up all the inhabitants of the Sunshine Orphanage - the ironic thing is that Jones' days there always felt like rainy days. The girl took her battered backpack and stuffed her pack of cigarettes with her other items, sneaking out the window.

It was usual for Baby Marie to do that, to try to escape from her reality. She never managed to be very successful on that mission, but that didn't stop her from trying again and again. Baby always arrived before the women who looked after her got up, not wanting bars on her window. The girl sighed as she walked the dark streets of Washington, heading toward a lonely, quiet corner where her chances of being murdered increased. But for her, the feeling was that dawn was always safer. That was the time of peace that the redhead would have, after having to put up with noisy children, adolescents in internal combustion and her own brain devoid of any distraction.

The little 17-year-old found herself in a park a few minutes later, avoiding children's toys and places where drunks tend to pass. She also ignored the copy of David Copperfield in her backpack, looking away and just searching for the anatomy book she picked up from the library. She spent a long time there, clearing her mind and although sleepy, more awake than ever. The only thing that distracted her from her inner peace that lasted a few minutes was the ringing of her old cell phone and the name David Rossi on her broken screen.

– Rossi? Why are you calling me? – An angry teenager grumbled in her cellphone, rubbing her dark circles and curious about the subject that the longtime acquaintance wanted to talk about. – It's fucking 5AM.

– I know you were already awake and I kinda need your help, kiddo.

David Rossi sighed, not believing he was going to do that. Baby, in the other side, gave up of her grumpy behavior and smiled, knowing how that conversation would end. She bit her lips and hoped that the most evil of the evil criminals would be out there, killing lots and lots of people - and Baby could try, but she would not feel any kind of remorse about her thoughts. "I heard you are back in the business. Tell me about it, Italy, what can I do to save your and Gideon's ass?".

– Gideon it's not in the BAU anymore, Baby. – He told, looking around to make sure no one was listening to his phone call.

– Oh, crap. But okay, boo-hoo. Moving on, let's talk about dead bodies and serial killers.

Rossi almost laughed of Baby's behavior, because it would be funny if it wasn't sad. Baby was, after all, an almost eighteen-years-old which the happiest part of the day was imagining what bloody crimes she could solve - or commit, depending on her mood. The only Jones couldn't feel sorry for Jason Gideon farewell, even if she was alive because of him or if he made her life a little bit more happy (or rather, less unhappy) asking for help when his cases entered a dead-end.

– That will count as a "S.O.S BABY"? – David said smiling, making the young girl laugh a little. – Yeah, Gideon left me a note that explained the conditions for me.

– And he told you that if you guys used one more of those I would maybe be joining you as the youngest F.B.I agent?

– Actually, the note said that you would try to trick me when we still have five S.O.S's left. – Baby cursed the old man, while Rossi tried to figured out what could he do when his chances where actually over.

Baby made a deal with Gideon, that's what this whole "S.O.S BABY" was all about. Jones was special, she could think as the unsub, and as the victim. He needed help, she needed a reason. When the profiler did fifty phone calls to the teenager, she would have a chance to prove herself capable of - breaking all the possible rules - making part of the F.B.I. Everything about it was wrong: first, Baby should be protected by the Bureau, not part of it; second, she cannot even drink legally, she is a child; third, would it be responsible to put someone with serious psychological problems holding a gun? Jason Gideon didn't put a lot of thought when he agreed with that deal, and now the problem was in the hands of David Rossi.

– Now, you wanna help me or not?

Some of the other FBI agents couldn't help but notice the oldest of them suddenly withdrawing, calling someone - almost like calling a dealer, looking sideways and reluctantly - and referring to that person as "baby". The famous David entered the sheriff's office in Rosenberg, Texas and closed the blinds, raising more suspicions among members of the Behavior Analysis Unit team.

“Did you hear what I heard?”, asked JJ, smiling broadly and exchanging shrewd looks with Derek and Emily. “It looks like the fourth Miss Rossi is coming!”, laughed the handsome Morgan, while Reid arrived without knowing what was happening and asking why they were laughing.

– It´s adult talk, kid. – Emily teased, ruffling the taller boy's hair, who grimaced and mumbled something about him not being a child. – I have to say, I didn't expect to hear Rossi call a woman "baby". It's quite young for him, isn’t it?

The subject soon changed when technical analyst Penelope Garcia arrived with bad news regarding the research she had done for the case. Again, that case was clueless and more difficult to resolve than ever. The unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, approached when he noticed the expressions of defeat of the four BAU agents regarding the case of men of different social status and equally handsome being brutally murdered by stab wounds and being left in random places in the city in the southern United States.

"I got something," David S. Rossi announced, leaving the office excitedly after spending a lot of time inside, while the rest of the team discussed theories that were soon refuted. "I think that our unsub is actually a women. Well, kinda. It was right in front of us the whole time!"

– We have already discussed the possibility of our unsub being a woman, David. It is impossible, all men were physically fit. – Aaron said, sighing and annoyed that they weren't getting a result.

Rossi ignored what his boss said, remembering the smart point of view that Baby Jones provided him. “When we went to visit Mrs. Wilson's office, the wife of the fourth victim and the psychologist of the second one, we recorded her statement, remember? Her husband had not yet been murdered and she did not want to leave her office”, Hotch, the one who were at the interview with the brand new suspect, agreed.

– Yes, she looked quite shocked up that her patient was murdered.

– And maybe she was quite of an actress. – David suggested, carefully examining the record they had about Mrs. Wilson. – Me and... I watched the recording again and a detail caught my attention: doctors, like a psychologist, display diplomas on walls and shelves, where patients can see them. It causes an immediate feeling of respect and trust. The family photos, however, are on the table, sometimes even hidden in the drawer, just for the doctor to see. It is an involuntary action, nobody wants mentally unstable people watching their life, their family. But look at Ms. Wilson's office, photos of her children at the table, facing her, while photos of her husband - and her husband alone - are on display everywhere, in the most eye-catching spots possible. Look at this! Who puts a 12 by 12 inch portrait of the spouse on the office wall?

– Yeah, I thought that was weird too, but that doesn't mean she is a murderer. We knew that her husband was possessive and abusive, he was jealous of all the people around her. It is perfectly possible that he told her to put those pictures like that so that her patients would know that, well, "she already belonged to someone".

“I don’t think so. My point is that Linda Wilson was directing the anger of one of her patients to Mr. Wilson“. Everyone stopped for a minute and thought about the theory, seeing the picture filled with theories and crime scene photos, along with the documents, and seeing that it might actually be right.

– But what about the other victims? – The Special Agente Jareau asked, pointing to the pictures of the men hanging on the board.

– Distractions. Mrs. Wilson is an extremely intelligent woman. If only her husband were killed, suspicions would fall on her right away.

“I trust you, Dave. Morgan and Prentiss, bring Linda Wilson to the police station, say we need to ask some questions”, ordered Hotch, the pair waving quickly and heading for the black SUV. “JJ and I are going to get a warrant to get everything Doctor Wilson has about her patients. You and Reid stay here and review what we already have, try to find more things that point to our suspect or anything that will help us find the killer”.

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA - EIGHT HOURS LATER.

Baby Jones was never the most adored girl in school. It was not a matter of popular and outcast, blond and brunette, intelligence or ignorance. It was a matter of Baby was a fucking pain in the ass. Jones knew. She knew that everyone around her hated her. And what could she do? She liked it. See, don't get me or Baby wrong. What could I say besides the pure truth about the girl who moves our pages? The fact that she is so stupidly annoying, rude and is a horror movie tucked into 5 feets and looks of a fairy. It is difficult for anyone to describe how horrible Baby Jones is, but, my dear reader, I will do everything to show the indescribable annoyance of our (not so) beloved young woman. Everything has a reason. We can't blame Baby for being the devil on earth. She herself says, "Everything I do is for a reason" and who are we to go against a mentally unstable redhead who knows how to shoot. Jones is, after all, one of the only people who have the slightest right to be a little irritating in the face of everything she has been through. Of course, nobody expected her to use this right with such enthusiasm, but my point is: Baby Jones is broken and with fewer screws on her head, try to take it easy.

– Jones, put out that cigarette!

Baby smiled at the shout from her Physical Education teacher as she passed her high school football court, backpack on her shoulder and cigarette between her lips. He ignored the athletic students going around and the girls playing soccer, looking at Mrs. Smith, the couch.

– Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. – She screamed back at Smith, seeing her head shake, sighing and turning her attention to the students who deserved her concern - deep down, she felt sorry for Baby, but it was easier to feel angry. The students around her looked at the redhead, never ceasing to be surprised by the behavior of the well-known Jones.

The bad-habits girl patted her jeans pockets when she heard her battered phone ring, knowing who the call was coming from and what the news was. No one else made calls to her, so David Rossi was the only possible name to be on the display of Baby’s cell phone.

“Did you catch the guy?”, Jones asked, ignoring greetings and good manners (which was somewhat usual). She was always excited to know about cases and thrilled when it was possible for her to help. “Of course we did, bambina! I had your help.”

– Yeah, what was I thinking? Of course you would get the guy with my help. I saved your ass. You and these BAU idiots would be screwed if it weren't for me.

– Always very humble, huh? And respect, girl, these "BAU idiots" may be the ones who will decide your future, if you're going to be an FBI agent. – Rossi warned, his voice low because he was on the jet, next to the agents who (theoretically) were sleeping.

– So, I was right, wasn't I? Let me guess, did the psychologist give steroids to her homicidal patient? – Baby ignored the older man's comment, while walking towards the school entrance.

– How did you...?

"Try to keep up: depression, anxiety, probably abused by the father. He kills handsome men and someone could interpret it as if he were envious of the victims. But I'm not someone, am I, Rossi? Mistreated by the father, men do not usually make fun of the appearance of other men in this way. No, but they make fun of the lack of "masculinity". He didn't kill these men because he wants to be them, he killed because he was attracted to them”, Baby spoke fast, her reasoning at incredible speed. Dave smiled on the other end of the phone, never failing to feel proud of Baby's skills. “He went to a psychologist looking for help, hating himself and disgusting his sexuality. Linda Wilson, a woman with an attractive but scoundrel husband, saw an opportunity to get rid of her husband once and for all, seeing the unsub's homicidal potential. Instead of giving him tranquilizers or some shit like that, she gave him steroids, leaving the man on edge.”

– You are absolutely right. And the curious thing is that the first victim was in fact homosexual, but the others were straight men that Patrick Thomas, the unsub, believed were trying to attract him, trying to make him sin, when they were not even doing anything.

– I can't say that I don't know what that is. – Baby murmured to herself, pressing her jaw in anger as Rossi heard the comment and felt his heart ache.

Rossi sighed at the feeling that remained in the air at the girl's comment, even if it wasn't even Jones’s intent to say it out loud. "Baby... you know what day is coming, don't you?", he said on a sigh, reluctantly. He noticed the silence of the call being interrupted twice by the younger woman's shaky voice, who stopped talking immediately, not wanting to show weakness. “Yes”, she spoke simply, never being able to forget the meaning of December 25th.

– I know the emotions that day brings to you and...

– No, you don’t. – Aggressive as ever when the subject was brought up, Baby looked around, always feeling watched when someone starts talking about that 1997 season. – You don’t and we don’t need to talk about it.

– I’m sorry. But along with... that, comes your birthday. Baby, I know you're pissed at me right now, but we need to talk about it. This year is important, things will change, you will have to find a place to live and I...

– You...?

– I'll try to get you on the FBI. – He whispered reluctantly, knowing the commotion of the little redhead on the other state, happy to know that he softened the previous conversation. – Know that I'm not promising anything. You will probably have to train a lot and start doing ridiculous jobs for your skills, but if you want to be a profiler you have to prove yourself in there. You’re still too young.

“Trust me, sir, I going to prove that I can beat some sick minds even if I'm cleaning the floor, making coffee or printing papers”, she smiled, feeling more excited by the news. Baby saw children approaching - children from her orphanage that she would have to take “home” - and then sighed, knowing that her life would not be based on what she was good doing for a long time before Rossi took her out of Alexandria, “I need to go”. “Try not to get yourself in too big of a trouble, I don't have the guts to put a delinquent in the Bureau”.

– I can’t promise anything. – The ginger quoted him from earlier, hearing a laugh. – And Rossi...

– Yes, kiddo?

– Hum, I... – Jones bit her lip, gulping and arching her shoulders in discomfort.

– I know, Baby. – It was hard for her, he knew it. – You’re welcome.

Spencer Reid really felt guilty about listening to the conversation - or at least, David's part of the conversation. But what could he do? He was lying on the seat of the jet, with his eyes closed and his mind totally active and uncomfortable, he having to fight his desire to go to the bathroom and inject into his vein the Dilaudid he had in the bottom of his bag, without the courage to throw it away.

The Boy Genius' mind was distracted for a while, curious about the person the experienced Rossi spoke to. He, like the other BAU agents the other day, assumed it was a woman, a secret girlfriend, perhaps. But that didn’t fit, Spencer was irritated by not being able to solve the mystery (and even more irritated by being interested in the personal life of his coworker). The Italian-American called it bambina - was it a dear family member? - and why would he put a family member on the FBI? It was dangerous! On top of that, he spoke of the previous case to her as if it were nothing, as if she already knew.

Spence bit his lip, glancing at the man looking out the window, getting up slowly. Reid sat across from Dave, smiling weakly. "I overheard, I'm sorry," he murmured, making Rossi smile. Dave wasn't as angry as he thought he would be, the eldest believing that some minimal information shared for the trustworthy Spencer would be no big deal. “Curious?”, the young man nodded.

– For now, she is top secret. But I can tell you that if everything goes as planned, oh, boy, we're screwed.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds reader #criminal minds #bau x reader #bau #BABY.#jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #david rossi

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years

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Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Oooohhhh who has the self control of a temperamental baby? Ma-ra! Mel-vyn!

This one feels longer than the others but I'm 43% sure it's because there's no angst and I'm a big fan of Person A and B continuously screwing up or screwing (with) each other

Up next, folks, is the lovely direction of your soulmate au. Fun.

Everyone is born with a little compass tattoo thing on their wrist. Instead of pointing north, it points to your soulmate. It heats up -- very slightly, almost unnoticeable -- when you're quite close to each other. Now and then, people can be seen walking up and down somewhere, eyes glued to their wrist because goddamnit it was pointing this way five seconds ago and now it's pointing the direct opposite way and-- wait shit turn back around

Vera knew her boyfriend wasn't it. Her compass never pointed at him. He knew it too. Still, she didn't leave.

Hamish knew Cassie wasn't it. His compass never pointed at her. He never said. She never noticed because she never checked her own. She didn't like the idea of soulmates anyway.

Hamish walks past "that scary girl who spends all her time studying" once and in his haste to step put of her clear warpath, he doesn't notice the slight tingling on his wrist.

Someone in the Order comes up to Vera before her Temple Magus days and gushes about how they think she's their soulmate. Vera, who has since kept up a facade of not really caring about her soulmate, sticks her wrist out and exposes her compass, which points towards the entrance to the Order. "Whoever he is, he's not in the Order."

For a while, Hamish tried to find his soulmate. Then he got caught up babysitting Randall -- and then Lilith. And then Jack showed up and there was no time for soulmate hunting when Jack Morton brings about the doom of the world somehow.

Jack and Hamish stand near the entrance to the Temple one day. Both their compasses point in the same direction. "Look, man, I know mine's this way because Alyssa's down there. . ."

Hamish doesn't believe his soulmate's an Order member.

A lot of shit happens. Their compasses go crazy when they fight the Order together, wildly spinning as they repeatedly cross paths. Given that Hamish is currently a werewolf, Vera is the one who notices this. Fucking hell, is it really a disciple???

Vera spends a few days walking through the Temple with her eyes on her wrist after they powder the werewolves. Once again, her compass is pointing in the direction of the entrance to the Temple. So who the hell was it??

The Knights get into the Order. Both their compasses stop pointing to one general direction and start randomly pointing in others. They're always watching their compass when they're not in the same room.

"If you're going to stand there, make yourself useful." Hamish gets Vera a drink. Vera chases him from the table. THEN Vera looks at her wrist and the mingling disciples. How could she possibly guess which one of them it is? °0° it's impossible.

"Bring me something in a tall glass." Well, I was about to go on a small soulmate hunt before I leave the temple for good but ok sure, let's rather do that instead.

When Vera's about to do the Excidium, she glances at her wrist to see that the compass once again points towards the temple entrance. She hopes her soulmate's far enough away, knowing that a good chunk of Belgrave is going to go down with her.

The more time Vera and Hamish spend around each other, the less they look at their wrists.

Once, they crossed paths while both looking at their wrists and when the compass flipped back, they turned, looked at each other, and went on their merry way

The have The Big Dumb okay

Gee I wonder who my soulmate is. Definitely not that one person the compass is literally always pointing to.

It's only after Alyssa, after Hamish is gathering his things and crossing the reliquary to find his other shoe that Vera sits back in the chair and glances at her wrist around Hamish. She watches the little compass follow Hamish as he goes from one end to the other.

"What are you laughing at, you're the one who threw everything around." "Nothing."

Hamish is there when Vera addresses the Order about the 'mysterious' passing of Kepler. As long as she still stands, his compass remains frozen. Hm, interesting. I wonder if there's a room behind Vera where -- OH!

"Mr Duke, do I have something on my face? . . . Stop grinning like that-- w-why are you? -- are you okay? Do you want to see the college therapist? Psychology? Psychiatrist? . . . An exorcist?" "I'm fine."

Vera loses Hamish in a crowd. I could check my wrist or I could-- "VERA STONE IS WEAK!" "WHO THE FUCK--" "ah, there he is."

"Hey you -- you new Medicum -- I swear I knew your name a minute ago-- have you seen the Grand Magus?" "No." "Damnit." Now I have to resort to old methods *cue Hamish marching around with his eyes glued to his wrist*

"Miss Dupres, do you know where the rest of the Knights have gone?" "No, Grand Magus." "Hm."

Vera gets Nicole in and checks her wrist against Gabrielle's. Both in the same place. "Those fuckers are up to something. Has anyone seen Mr Morton or do we have another impending apocalypse?"

Hamish won't stop tickling Vera. So while he's gone, she gets out her makeup bag. Fucking Alyssa. Could have returned my magic and then, not only would I be able to use magic for this, she'd be, you know, alive. Fucking stubborn Alyssa

Vera gets an epiphany. She might not have magic but she knows someone who does. Several someones, in fact.

Jack scrambles into the reliquary as fats as he can. "You said something about Hamish and an emergency."

Vera hands him a book. "Do this spell. Do it now."

"This is an illusion spell to cover up powerful magic . . . what did you do?"

"Nothing yet, I'm fucking with Hamish."

You mean you're fucking Hamish. "What was that, Magistratus?" "Nothing, Grand Magus. So, this spell, what do I do?"

Three hours later. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT CHANGED DIRECTION."

Jack @ Randall: hey, do u wanna go get a beer like right now and this exact moment which has nothing to do with all the yelling at all

To get back at Vera, Hamish decides to do thr same thing, except he has a 100% willing disaster partner Lilith to work with him on this one.

Two days after: IF I HAD MAGIC YOU'D BOTH BE DEAD

Hamish and Lilith sprint past Jack. "WE FUCKED UP WE FUCKED UP WE FUCKED UP WE FUCKED UP!"

Vera in the doorway with a knife in hand. "AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU'VE THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE."

"So, is what normally happens when the temple is empty?" Gabrielle asks, "or is today a special occasion?"

"No, this is normal. Hamish and Vera often--" "Don't you finish that sentence Mr Morton or I'll be hanging Silverback up on my wall." "Noted."

Hamish loses Vera in a crowd. I could use the compass or I could-- "CHANCELLOR STONE IS STONED" "WHAT THE FUCK--" "ah, there she is."

Had Kepler been alive post S2 there's like a 99% chance she would've been like "why are your compasses pointing at each other?" Long silence. "Because we're sworn enemies, Bitsy, why else?"

Hamish is trying to teach a class. Vera stops by to ask something -- which would've been considered normal if she weren't also the chancellor. Whispering in the back: "Did you see their compasses?? Do you think they know??"

Vera doesn't have magic or werewolf senses, but she does have some good natural senses. "Krowchuck is looking to retire. Belgrave is looking to hire. Make sure you submit an application, okay, babe?"

Vera has literally never called him babe before. In fact, Hamish doesn't think she's ever called him anything other than Mr Duke, Hamish, or "you absolute fuckhead dickface" that one time he ate the chocolate she was hiding.

Hamish glares as she leaves. How the hell is he supposed to get a lesson done now.

Hamish turns up to the next Order meeting with his sleeves high enough that everyone can see his compass point directly to Vera. She isn't happy about it.

"Hey, how long do you think it took before they realised it was them?" "Like a year. I kept track." "That's creepy, Randall." "No, it's like watching your favourite show. Entertaining."

"Mr Morton, my favourite disciple! You look well! How are you doing today? Your magic keeps getting stronger, I'm so proud--" "What do you want?" "Do this spell and I'll let you play with one artefact from the reliquary." ".....You're fucking with Hamish's compass again aren't you?" "I would never! How could you -- okay, yes. Make it point to the most annoying person he knows."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S POINTING AT MR CARPIO."

Randall chilling in the temple. "Wtf. Jack what did you do?"

"Why you always gotta blame me?"

Lilith, Randall & Gabrielle: because we're almost always right.

"Daddy, how long did you know Mommy before you knew she was your soulmate?" "Very long." "How did you and Mommy meet?" "I want a new question."

Can you tell my favourite trope is Hamish & Vera either vehemently denying that they're soulmates or just almost never realising it?? And then absolute chaos, of course.

See the other AUs I've mutilated

#hamish x vera #hamish duke #vera stone #the order #the knights of saint christopher #the knights of the blue rose #hermetic order of the blue rose #the hermetic order of the blue rose #vermish #soulmates #please just give me the soulmate au i want #soulmates au #soulmate #mara-writes

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biborispavlikovsky · 4 years

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a second chapter on my fic gang :-)

Letting himself be with Boris is easier said than done Theo finds. As nice as it would have been to have had their talk, and then been perfectly okay, Theo finds himself sick with nerves at the thought of seeing Boris face to face again.

He knows it’s stupid. It was stupid before when his nerves had been over a few months of separation (a clear nonissue given the amount of time between Vegas and their first reunion), and it’s especially stupid now when things are objectively ideal between them—everything out in the open, and both in mutual agreement about what they want. Despite this though, Theo can’t shake the wave of anxiety that overwhelms him every time he thinks about seeing Boris face to face again.

They’ve been texting since their call. Not much, since Theo isn’t really one to text and Boris is terrible with remembering to check his phone. But they’ve texted enough to have planned a dinner out to a fairly nice restaurant—the result of Boris’ insistence that he needs to take Theo out properly.

Theo can’t tell if the small amount of contact has made his anxiety better or worse.

It’s been nearly two weeks since their call, and three since their last encounter, yet Theo feels as if the day has come all too quickly. Theo had put off the day they planned for in a foolish attempt to give himself more time to process—something which has only proved to heighten his nerves, rather than soothe them—and he finds himself regretting it now.

He tries distracting himself with choosing a tie. He doesn’t want Boris to think he’s dressed for a business meeting, but he doesn’t want to be underdressed either. He feels like a teenaged girl choosing her outfit for her first ever date. He feels stupid.

He chooses a random tie. Boris won’t care, he knows this. He’ll probably poke fun at the fact that Theo is even wearing a tie.

Should he wear a tie?

He puts the tie back down. Picks it up.

He’s being stupid again.

He begins to tie the tie around his neck, before pausing yet again. What should he wear? He doesn’t want to look like he’s dressing for work, but he also doesn’t want to look like he hasn’t made an effort. Although, the fact that he’s wearing a tie will be effort enough in Boris’ book Theo is sure.

He ties a basic knot before checking his appearance in the mirror.

He looks like he always does—though he’s wearing one of his nicer suits, not one of his every day work ones, and he’s pushed his hair back and out from his face in an effort to style it a little more.

He looks good he thinks.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking so much about it. Boris has seen him at his worst, has seen him naked. It’s not like Boris will see him and think he looks like he’s been on a weeklong bender. Boris probably won’t even care. Theo is just overthinking it because they’re going out together.

He needs to stop obsessing over this. He had meant to leave five minutes ago, before he’d gotten stuck on his tie decision.

He takes one more moment before he leaves. Takes a deep breathe. Then swings his coat on and heads out the door.

He arrives at Boris’ apartment to pick him up a few minutes earlier than they had planned, despite his late departure from his place. He debates, for a moment, waiting down in the lobby until the right time before heading up to Boris’ place, but then decides against it. He would just be putting off the inevitable of seeing Boris face to face again.

His stomach lurches as he steps into the elevator. When he reaches Boris’ floor, he spends so much time trying to work himself to just step off the elevator, that he has to catch the door so it doesn’t close before he gets the chance to get off.

The walk down the hall to Boris’ place feels both infinite and momentary. He reaches his door all too soon, yet after what felt like the longest walk of his life, despite it only being a few metres.

When he knocks, it takes Boris a few moments to get the door. Theo feels sick with anxiety in the seconds before the door swings open—convinces himself Boris isn’t going to answer and he’s going to be left alone in the hallway.

The door swings open.

Boris’ shirt is half unbuttoned and he has no socks on.

“Potter? You’re early.” He says, confused.

“Oh,” is all Theo can bring himself to say. He had sworn he was only a few minutes early, but from Boris’ current state that can’t be right.

He checks the time on his phone—stares at the screen dumbly. He’s twenty minutes early somehow, he must have been reading the clock wrong earlier in his nervous state.

“You just going to stand in door like vampire? I need to invite you in?” Boris asks, shooing Theo inside and closing the door behind him.

Theo kicks his shoes off at Boris’ pointed look, before following him inside. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the space, unsure of what to do.

Boris starts towards his bedroom, before turning back to face Theo from the doorway. “You look terrible, Potter. Are you here to spread diseases to me?” Boris says, studying him from afar.

A jolt of ice shoots through Theo. He looks terrible? He smooths his tie self consciously.

“I didn’t wear patterned pants this time.” He half jokes nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“Your face,” Boris says like it’s obvious. He walks back towards Theo and puts his hand over his forehead. “You are white like sheet. Not hot though.” He pulls his hand away.

“I’m nervous,” Theo admits quietly. He hadn’t been planning on telling Boris that, sure he would brush it off—We’ve had sex! Lived together! And you’re nervous for dinner? Ha, Potter! You are strange creature.

Instead, Boris puts a hand to Theo’s shoulder. “Is just me, you don’t have to be nervous,” he says gently.

Theo leans into his touch.

“I know, it’s just—” Theo doesn’t actually know what to say. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He’s been telling himself over and over the same thing Boris has just said: It’s just Boris, no reason to be nervous. But he can’t help the nerves still coiled in his gut. “I’m not nervous because it’s you. It’s doing this. It’s going out. It’s going out and being where other people will see.”

The thing between himself and Boris, whatever it may be, has always been a private thing; Him and Boris in Vegas together, the two of them against the world; Him and Boris in Amsterdam together, the parking garage, the car, his room; Him and Boris in Antwerp together, in Boris’ shitty flat; Him and Boris at Boris’ apartment here in New York together, just the two of them.

Theo is still trying to even let himself have this thing, and the thought of others seeing it, he realizes, is what is terrifying him.

He tips his forehead down against Boris’.

Boris shifts his hands from Theo’s shoulder to the back of his neck, holding him in place.

“Is okay, Theo, we’re going slow. No need to be nervous.”

For a moment they stay like that. Silent, foreheads together. And in that moment, the nerves that have been plaguing Theo for weeks seem to fade away. They’re here, in Boris’ apartment just existing.

Theo and Boris, and Boris and Theo.

Boris leans back, grins at Theo, then pulls his hand away.

“I know what we will do.” He says. “We stay here. Watch movies, order food. Whatever. Stay here though.”

“But our reservation,” Theo tries to protest.

“You want to go to reservation and be sick, and have terrible time? I will be here while you do that, and you can join me when you’re done.”

“You’re not upset that we’re not going out?” Theo asks.

“I don’t care about that, Potter. Is boring anyway, have to sit in the dark and get interrupted all the time. No good. We will eat good food here. Is not bad for me.” He shrugs.

“You were the one who insisted we go out though.” Theo really doesn’t know why he’s arguing. He wants to stay here with Boris, he doesn’t want to go out.

“Is no big deal. Can go out another time. This time will be like old times, no? But better now.”

“I don’t really thing any of our old times are a very high bar to beat.” Theo says, but he’s smiling now.

“That’s why will be better.” Boris taps his head with a finger. “I will go change now, no need for buttons anymore,” he says, starting to undo the few buttons on his shirt that had been done as he heads back towards his room.

He appears back in the doorway a moment later wearing sweatpants and pulling a t-shirt over his head. “And you! Ack! You can’t be wearing this now. You will ruin.” He gestures to Theo’s suit. “Here, borrow from me.” He disappears for a moment then returns with a ball of clothing that he throws to Theo.

Theo catches it and stands dumbly in the middle of Boris’ apartment, not sure what to do with himself.

“I will find movie.” Boris says, gesturing Theo towards his now empty room as he makes his way past him to the couch.

Theo closes the door softly behind him and takes a moment to breathe before setting the bundle of clothing Boris had thrown him onto the bed so he can change. He had been so nervous about tonight and Boris is making it all so easy. They’d spent so long leaving things unsaid, but now that they’re being honest with each other things are even easier than they had been before—it shouldn’t be surprising, but Theo still finds himself a little caught off guard by the ease of it all.

Theo changes quickly into the t-shirt and sweats Boris had given to him. The pants are a little to short on him, but the shirt fits well enough. He considers going into Boris’ closet to finds hangers to hang his old clothes properly, but decides against it and instead opts to leave his clothes folded as neatly as he can on Boris’ dresser; They’ll survive a night of being folded.

When Theo walks back into the living space, he finds Boris sprawled across the couch, scrolling seemingly aimlessly through Netflix.

“Was easier when we couldn’t choose, Potter,” he whines when he notices Theo, his head hanging over the arm of the couch to look at him upside down.

“Didn’t ever expect to miss the shitty cable from Vegas,” Theo says, shoving Boris’ feet off the couch to make room for himself.

“Hey!” Boris protests as he half falls off the couch. “Is my house don’t forget! You can’t throw me off my couch.” He does his best to tackle Theo from his position half-on-half-off the couch, but just ends up throwing himself on top of Theo and squishing the air out of him more than anything.

“Get off,” Theo wheezes, shoving at him half heartedly.

“Get off” Boris mocks, not moving.

They end up ordering food before picking a movie—Chinese, and then some random thriller movie that neither of them really pays attention to.

They eat on the couch, legs overlapping between them, passing cartons back and forth between them, with the extras spread out on the coffee table in front of them.

At some point after they finish eating, Boris shifts to lean against Theo, resting his head on his shoulder and manhandling his arm around him. Theo stiffens at the contact at first, unsure of what to do. Of course he and Kitsey had cuddled at times, but somehow, this feels different—the race of his heart at the weight of Boris leaning against him foreign.

“Is okay, no?” Boris asks, looking up at him.

“Yes. Uh, yeah,” Theo says, bobbing his head a little more aggressively than would be natural.

“Good. You’re stiff like board, couldn’t tell,” Boris says. He shuffles himself around for a moment, his hand braced against Theo’s chest, trying to get comfortable.

“Oh, sorry,” Theo says, trying to relax, but with Boris this close, his hand pushing against him over his heart, the effort doesn’t do much.

“You’re always like that. Unless you’re sleeping. Never relax.” Boris says offhandedly with a contended sigh. He’s stopped squirming, apparently having found a comfortable position. “Am used to now, even after all these years. But good to check with you.”

Theo doesn’t know what to say to that so he stays silent.

It’s nice sitting like this with Boris, he thinks. And as the movie goes on, he thinks, maybe, he feels himself relax a little.

When the movie finishes, neither Boris nor Theo make any move to put something else on. Boris shifts a little, but ultimately settles back against Theo.

“Well, that was terrible movie,” he says matter-of-factly.

“So you don’t want to watch the sequel?” Theo asks, pointing to the trailer that’s about to auto play.

“Whole thing was stupid, how can there be sequel?”

Theo shrugs. “It’s right there, we can find out.”

“No. My brain will be melted if I watch more garbage,” Boris says forcefully, twisting to look up at Theo.

“Okay then, so are we done watching?” Theo asks.

“I think yes,” Boris says, still watching Theo.

“Okay,” Theo says, and starts to get up.

Boris pushes him back down with a hand to his chest and sits up halfway.

“What?” Theo asks at the look Boris is giving him.

“You aren’t leaving, no?” Boris is still leaning against him, keeping him pinned to his place on the couch.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, “we finished the movie…” Theo trails off, unsure of what Boris is getting at.

“Is just, there’s more we can do besides movie,” Boris says,

“Boris,” Theo starts, “I don’t think—”

“Not that, stupid. We’re going slow. But there are still other things.” Boris gives him a look.

“Oh. Yeah,” Theo says, face flushing.

“If is okay with you?” Boris asks, leaning in.

“Just do it stupid,” Theo says, pulling Boris in with a hand on the back of his head.

They’re in an awkward position—Boris half on top of Theo, who’s melting into the couch—but they manage, (though they do end up adjusting to be more comfortable when one of Theo’s legs starts to go numb).

Later that night, in bed, Theo finds himself lying in the dark debating with himself. Him and Boris are lying side by side, close but carefully avoiding contact. The last time they were here together Theo had panicked, and being in the same space, though under different circumstances is still making him nervous.

Despite the fact that he’s sharing a bed with Boris, Theo feels lonely. They’d spent much of the evening in contact, and to now be keeping measured distances between them feels foreign. Theo wants to reach out but he’s afraid. He’s afraid to act on his impulses. He’s afraid Boris will pull away—something he knows for a fact is irrational, but fears nonetheless. He’s afraid that if he tries to reach out to Boris he’ll find, somehow, that he isn’t even there.

“Potter,” Boris whispers suddenly. “You’re thinking too loud.”

Theo rolls to face him, though he can’t see much. “I’m not doing anything,” he whispers back.

There’s no reason for them to be whispering, but it the dark of Boris’ room, it feels like anything else would break the delicate stillness around them.

“Can tell you’re thinking too hard. Is no big deal. This is just like old times. We’ve done this many times before and was always okay.”

By this, Boris means share a bed. And it’s true, they shared a bed more nights than not in Theo’s time in Vegas he’s sure, but something about this time feels different.

They’re lying in the same bed as if it’s two separate beds, and the small space between them feels vast in the dark. It feels cold lying alone when Theo knows Boris is right there.

“It’s not exactly like old times,” Theo starts hesitantly. He wants desperately to extend his arm, to seek out Boris’ warmth somehow. He wants the familiar weight of Boris’ leg thrown over his, Boris’ chest against his back—to be held by Boris.

He inches his hand into the space between them, closer to Boris.

“I miss you,” he says, but it’s not what he means because Boris is right there. What he meant to say: come closer.

“Am right here, Potter,” Boris says, and Theo hears more than see him shift to face him.

He tries again. “Not right here, though.” He doesn’t know why he can’t just say what he wants.

Boris huffs out a small, quiet, laugh. “You’re needy, Potter.”

He moves closer though. Still not touching but closer. Close enough for Theo to feel heat radiating off him.

“Do you remember in Vegas, you would—” Theo cuts himself off, not wanting to actually say it, even though it’s the thing he wants. He rolls over so his back is to Boris, the shuffles backwards until he’s pressed into Boris—not far considering how close together they’d shifted. “Like this,” he says.

“Oh,” Boris says. A puff of breath over the back of Theo’s neck.

Boris hooks a leg over one of Theo’s and winds an arm over his chest to pull him closer.

“Yeah,” Theo says. It’s different now, both of them a little less boney, Boris a little less spindly, but it’s still familiar and comfortable.

“You should have just asked, Potter. Didn’t need to think panties into twist.” Boris murmurs, and his mouth is right behind Theo’s ear in this position and Theo can feel the rumble of Boris’ chest against his back when he speaks. “Don’t have to think so much,” he repeats.

“That seems to be what I do,” Theo admits, softly. He wishes he didn’t but he can’t seem to avoid the endless obstacles he creates for himself.

“Is okay, not upset. Just wanted you to know,” Boris says sleepily. He presses a kiss into Theo’s hair, and Theo shivers at the casual affection. This was something they never allowed themselves before. Something he’s almost never allowed himself ever.

“Goodnight, Potter.”

“Night, Boris,” Theo replies.

He falls asleep quickly, and sleeps dreamlessly until morning. Content and warm in Boris’ embrace.

They go to a nice restaurant together for their one month anniversary. Theo isn’t really the anniversary celebration type, but Boris insists, and it’s a good enough reason to do something nice together.

Since their first official date at Boris’, they’ve spent a lot of similar evenings together, as well as gone out together for a few smaller, less formal dates—coffee together during one of Theo’s lunch breaks, a breakfast together before a flight of Boris’. Little things, that gradually turned into bigger things, and now finally this.

Theo is still nervous about going out with Boris on such an obvious date, but he’s also reached the point where he’s realized that the little bad that could come of it, is to him, worth the enjoyment that he knows will come as well.

When they arrive at the restaurant for their reservation, the host doesn’t even react to the two of them together, just leads them to their table and wishes them a good night. It catches Theo off guard a little; He’s been so afraid of being judged and seen a certain way for dating a man—had been on guard as soon as they’d approached the restaurant—that nothing happening feels almost anticlimatic.

Boris grins at him from across the table as the host walks away, and Theo feels a matching smile grown on his face.

Their meal passes without incident, pleasant and intimate, and when it’s over, Theo doesn’t hesitate to invite himself home with Boris.

They’re outside the restaurant, and Theo doesn’t wait for Boris to lead the way back to his place. The night is dark but the city is bright around them, and they share a look as they walk together that says they both know why they’re rushing a little to make it back.

In a way, it’s similar to the morning of their brunch together, except this time, Theo isn’t ignoring anything, he wants and he loves, and he’s just letting himself be, and he’s excited about it.

He isn’t all the way there yet. He knows he’ll still feel nerves when out in public with Boris, will still feel the need to pull his hand away if someone glances in their direction. But he’s making an effort to let himself live a little more freely, to let himself have what he wants. And with every little thing he allows himself, things get a little easier.

#the goldfinch #tgf #tgf fic #boreo #theo decker #boris pavlikovsky #puff text #puff fic #an unexpected second and final chapter for my fic #please let me know your thoughts if u read this i am Unsure about this bad boy

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imaginesmai · 5 years

Text

Ben Hardy-The Interview

First time writting for Ben, please tell me what you think!

Plot: you’re exicted for your first solo interview about the End Game movie, but it’s not going to be as good as you thought it would.

You could feel the sun on your face even if you had your eyes closed, and after five minutes of trying to sleep again, you decided it was not worthy. The room was awfully quiet, and it took you a few seconds to remind that it wasn’t your room. If it had been, either Ben’s grabby hands or Frankie’s licks on your face would have woken you up. Beside, the bed was too cold without your personal heater. You sighed and got out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

The windows of the room were open, at least one of them, and the bed of your friend was empty. You looked around for a bit, trying to find Elizabeth until you found a piece of paper in your nightstand. It seemed that she didn’t wait for you to have breakfast. Last month, you had finished your part in the Avengers, where you played a main role. The End Game cast was doing a press tour where you were having a lot of fun, and that day was your turn to make a solo interview. Remembering you should be already dressing up, you changed your pyjamas and started doing your make up.

“Wow” Elizabeth laughed when she came back. “You really know how to make a mess in a few seconds.”

Elizabeth Olsen was, what you could say, your best friend. You met her in set, and since then you had been inseparable. Not only in press tours but also in real life. All the cast was like your family; Sebastian had already a guest room in your house and Chris and Elsa were lovely to go on vacation with. Still, Elizabeth was your girl.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m supposed to be in the studio at twelve.”

“I couldn’t, you looked too peaceful” she said as she walked through the room, picking up your clothes and examining them. “What are you going to wear?”

“I still don’t know.” you sighed, trying to put your eyeliner right. “God, I’m so nervous, Lizzie. It’s-it’s my first solo interview and I’m going to be fucking late. Not to mention that I’m going to look like a mess.”

“They should be the one nervous.” She smiled, and walked towards you. Elizabeth took the eyeliner out of your shaky hands and put it on you slowly. Doing your make up was something you weren’t used to, yet for the interview they had requested a professional look. “Have you called him?”

You rolled your eyes, not being able to talk since she was putting on your lipstick. Among all the cast, you were the one that got more nervous in interviews. You started to tremble and you feared that they might find something wrong. Everytime something like that happened, Ben was there to calm you down. Except that time, that he was in a different country with the Bohemian Rhapsody guys, and you missed your beautiful boy a lot.

“No. I…He has been acting strange, you know. I didn’t want to bother him”

“Strange how?” Elizabeth frowned, closing the lipstick bar.

“I don’t know, I guess he’s nervous with all the press and that. When I called him last night he seemed exhausted, and we didn’t talk long.” you remembered his tired voice, and fact that there was pain behind him. “I think something has happened, or maybe it’s just the stress. Anyway, I’m flying to see him as soon as the interview is over”

“What?! Y/N, we have the premier tomorrow”

“I’ll make it on time, don’t worry.” you laughed.

It wasn’t just a decision you took last night. You knew how important the film was for Ben, so since you discovered your press tours would be the same month, you knew you would be paying a visit to your boy. The previous night conversation just settled up the day.

“Tell him I say hi, and that he needs to call you more often because I can stand your grumpy face only for so long” she laughed. “What time are you-“

The annoying noise of your phone interrupted her, and she looked at you with a knowing smirk. With a quick good luck wish and a hand squeeze, she took her bikini and left towards the hotel’s swimming pool.

You half ran towards your bed, where your phone with Ben’s face on the screen was ringing. With shaky fingers and a huge smile, you accepted the call.

“Hey, baby” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Hey” his voice was deep and rough, more even than usual. “I just called you to wish you good luck. You’re going to do great, love. As always.”

“I hope so, I’m kind of nervous.”

“Don’t have to, everything is going to be fine.” There was a moment of silence where you frowned, missing his usual cheerful attitude.

“Are you okay, Ben? You sound… tired. Too tired. Are the guys letting you sleep?” you joked.

“Yeah, yeah” he laughed. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Everything is, right, everything is fine, don’t worry for me. I-I have to go, the guys a-are waiting for me. Call me when it’s over. Love you.”

“Ben, wait-“ the beeping sound of the line cut you off. Frowning, you took the phone off your ear and saw that Ben had hung up.

The picture that it was showing you was kind of a joke. You two had been in a park, having the best day of your life, when he took it. You two were smiling at the camera, happy and in love with each other. Ben seemed far from that on the phone. Maybe it was just the stress of the tour, you thought. Traveling across the world with Brian May and Roger Taylor was a big deal, and Ben had every right to be nervous and tired.

Still, as you closed the door of your hotel room behind you, you could have sworn that Ben’s voice broke in the end of the call.

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

You shifted once again in the uncomfortable couch, an awkward smile forming in your face as the interviewer talked. The place was really nice, and you really thought the interview would be a good one. They received you with a drink and offered to keep your purse in a private room. A kind girl finished your make up and a man explained to you the lines of the interview. It seemed great until the interviewer appeared.

First of all, the woman was more focused on the cameras than on you. Apparently, they told her one of the main characters was coming to the program, and she had expected it to be Chris or Robert, not you. So you could feel her disappointment. The questions weren’t about the film, but about your personal life and about your co-stars. Chris Hemsworth’s abs were a common question.

“Who would you pick then?” she asked, interrupting you as you were talking about your character’s development.

“W-what?”

“If you had to pick someone of your cast, who would you pick?”

You sighed, knowing that you’re the interview was being a disaster. Even someone who was watching it from their house could notice that you didn’t want to be there.

“I wouldn’t pick anyone, they are all really nice people” you said, trying to change the topic. “We all work hard and we are friends. It’s like a family.”

“Talking about family, how is your relationship with your parents? We noticed that they weren’t on the premier in Italy”

Of course they weren’t, you thought. Your parents were from another country, and they had a life there. Their works didn’t let them go with you to the premier, and they didn’t want to get too mixed up with the famous world. Sure, they talked about their famous daughter to anyone, but they preferred to have a normal life.

“They were busy” you shrugged. The woman raised her painted eyebrows, trying to get you to say something else. There was a moment of silence where you thought you everyone could hear your heart. “Is-is that all?”

“Well, considering I didn’t expect you coming here today and that you’re not willing to answer to my questions, I suppose so.”

She must had received something from her boss, since she pressed her hand on her right ear. She frowned and looked around, confused as why she shouldn’t have said that.

“I can and I will answer any questions about the film, that’s what I’m here for. And about not expecting me, you knew a main character of the film was coming. I am one of them.”

One of the camera’s guys tried to cover up a laugh with a cough, although the woman heard him and gave him a dirty stare. Your hands were cold and you could feel sweat in the back of your neck, the only thing you wanted to do was to leave.

“Then I guess this is over. Can I ask you one last question, Y/N?”

“S-sure.” you frowned. She hadn’t asked you if she could ask any of the previous questions, so you got the feeling that you weren’t going to like that one. The woman still hadn’t said anything about Ben, so you weren’t surprised when she mentioned him.

“Tonight is the big premier here, I suppose you’re excited.” She gave you a fake smile when you nodded. “We’ve seen some pictures of you and your co-stars in the hotel, yet we haven’t seen Ben around in the last weeks. Is everything alright between you two?

Your eyes widened at her question. She was quiet literally asking you if you had broken up with Ben. You could hear your manager in the background, complaining about the personal questions and threatening with taking you out of there. Yet you didn’t want to give them the privilege of thinking that Ben and you had broken.

“Ben is in the press tour of Bohemian Rhapsody, so he’s really busy. I can’t go to his premiers and he can’t come to mines.” you smiled. “Everything is fine between us, we’re happy but busy with work.”

“So the photos haven’t affected your relationship?”

Two years ago, Ben was hanging out with his cousin when the press took photos of them and publish them on the Internet. You remembered seeing them and asking Ben for a break, just because you wanted to be left alone for some hours. You were sure he wouldn’t cheat on you, even if you didn’t know she was his cousin, yet Ben thought that you were going to leave him. He appeared in your doorstep after taking a five hours flight with tears running down his cheeks, babbling about how much he loved you and how he would never cheat on you.

Social media had never been an issue in your relationship, not even the rumours about cheating. You trusted Ben and he trusted you. Yet as the woman said those words, your mind went back to the conversation with Ben that morning. He seemed eager to hang up, and doubts filled your head. You should have just turned around and listened to your manager, who was shouting at the director behind you.

“What photos?” you asked, your voice firm and your hands shaking.

“Oh, they were released yesterday.” she smirked. “We have a copy of them here, we can show you in the big screen.”

You expected to see Ben hugging another girl, maybe even kissing her. Maybe they were old photos, or it was Ben’s friend. You expected to see a lot of things, but a photo of your very naked boyfriend wasn’t one of them. In the screen, you could see three photos. In the first one he had a towel around his waist, and you would have laughed in any other moment at his adorable lost face. In the second one, he had his back turned and was already naked. And in the third, he was showing his whole body to the camera.

“Turn off the cameras.” your manager ordered as he walked into the stage. “Everybody, turn off the cameras and stop transmitting.”

“Hey, you can’t just walk here!” the woman got up. “No, no! Don’t stop the interview, keep recording! This is on direct!”

“This was on direct?” you blinked away the tears, as you manager helped you up. “H-How dare you to put t-that on direct?”

“They are on the fucking Internet, everyone can see them. Come on, haven’t you heard me?! Turn on the cameras!”

A pang of guilt hit your chest, and you felt bad for even thinking that Ben could cheat on you. Of course he was tired and sad, what surprised you is that he had found the strength for calling you that morning.

“We can’t stop the program!” the woman shouted, and you set yourself free from your manager grip to point a hand to her.

“You’re program is shit, this interview has been a shit and you’re an horrendous person.” you said, and everyone got quiet. “What gives you the right to show something like that? You’re supposed to be professional, not to give away to things like this.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?” she laughed.

“Not your job anymore.” you scoffed. “I swear, you’re going to hear from my lawyer, and I’m going to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else in this job. Real media get screwed up because of people like you.”

You grabbed your purse and walked out of the stage with your manager, hearing the threats and shouts from the interviewer. Once you arrived to the car, you gave him the direction of the airport and dialled Ben’s number. You were going to make things right.

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

Four hours and a half, that was how long it took you to travel from California to Virginia, where Ben was staying with the cast. In the plain, you had made too many calls; to Ben, who still hadn’t answered, to Elizabeth and the guys, to your manager and to each one of Ben’s friends. Rami was away with Lucy for the day, yet he told you that Ben should be at the hotel; he didn’t know anything. Gwilym and Joe were there, but they didn’t help you much, saying that Ben wanted to be alone for a while. Only if they knew why.

When you landed on the airport, a car was already waiting for you to take you to the hotel. You were glad you had send them the address before, because as you climbed on the backseat, the tears started. It was 9 pm and night was starting to fall down on the city; it made the moment only more depressing. The man looked at you through the rearview with pity eyes, watching as you sobbed uncontrollably.

He must had seen it by then, you thought. Ben liked to be active on social media, to keep track of his family and you, and to be kind to his fans. It was a matter of time before he saw it.

You tried dialling his number once again. Maybe it was the fifty time you had called him, you didn’t know and didn’t care. The kind man of the taxi told you quietly that you had reached your destination, and gave you a comforting smile before driving off. In the lobby of the hotel, you met Joe. He didn’t think you should have come, yet he didn’t know why Ben was locked in his bedroom. So he decided to wait for you in the lobby.

“Y/N! Oh my God, what has happened?” he ran to hug you, and your sobs grew louder if that was possible. “Is-has he done something?”

“N-no! Ben is-s a wonderful p-person, he w-wouldn’t even hur-rt a fly!” you looked at him with angry eyes.

“Okay, okay! I was just asking! What has happened?” he asked, noticing how defensive you seemed to be of his friend.

“Not now. Where-where is he?”

Joe told you the number of his room and you ran faster than ever. It was on the seventh floor, the one reserved for the cast. You counted the room with your heard in your throat, and finally found his room. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. It was silent for a while, enough for you to catch your breath and to clean your cheeks with your sleeves.

“Baby?” you asked softly, putting a hand on the door. “Baby, can you-can you open the door?”

Again, he didn’t respond. You could hear quiet sobs from the other side, so you tried to force the door open. When it didn’t budge, you felt yourself hyperventilating again.

“Ben, please” you tried not to cry. “I-I’ve taken nearly a five hours fly, I really need to see you.”

Some shuffling was heard from the other side; still, the door didn’t open. In that moment you started to panic. What if he had done something stupid? He hadn’t talked to anyone for hours. You felt your throat close under the pressure of something happening to him.

“Ben, baby open the door.” you cried against it, putting one hand on your chest and the other one on the door. “I-I need to see you, please, I’m starting to get worried. Should I-“

You nearly fell inside the room if it wasn’t for Ben, who with shaky hand managed to stop your fall.

The sight in front of you was heart-breaking. The room was dark and you could made out the undone bed. Your Ben, the cheerful boy who made you smile between the tears, was wearing just a dark hoodie. His eyes were red and puffy, and his lips were dry from crying so much. You didn’t have time to get up before he fell to his knees in front of you, hiding his face between his hands. It didn’t take a genius to know that he had seen the interview.

You didn’t know how, but you got him on his feet and carried him to the bed, where he clutched to your waist and didn’t let you. The bed was comfy, and you two laid in the middle of it for what seemed like hours. You ran your hand through his short hair, scraping your nails against it. The beautiful shirt you had been wearing for the interview got soaked with Ben’s tears, and you felt bruises forming in your side from how hard he was gripping you. Still, you didn’t complain, just let him cry until there were no tears left.

Ben then looked up at you, his lip trembling again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, caressing his wet cheek. It was safe to say that he discovered them the day before, and that it was the reason behind his mood. Just thinking about him being alone with that for a whole day made your heart clench.

“I didn’t want to ruin your interview.” he answered, calmer. Ben kisses lightly your collarbone and spoke again. “I know how important it’s the press tour for you. It’s your last one, and I didn’t want to bother you. God, I’m so sorry, love. I’m-I’m sorry you had to come here.”

“I would have anyway, baby.” you smiled at him. “I was planning on visiting you one day, yet I didn’t know when. I’m always here with you, Ben. Always, in good and bad things.”

He pushed his body up so that he was covering you, and kissed your lips. You tasted the salty tears on them; in an attempt to make it better, you pulled him closer by putting your hands on the back on his neck.

You had to break the kiss after a while, gasping for breath. He bumped his nose with you, and let out a silly laugh.

“I didn’t think I could love someone as much as I love you, Y/N.” In Ben’s mind, there were a lot of things in that moment. The fact that everyone had seen his “nudes” because of your interview, how you were supposed to be with your cast in that moment and the heavy pain of his chest. Above all of that, stood the fact that you had travelled almost five hours to be with him.

“Ben, I’m serious. I’ll be here for you always.” you pecked his lips. “We’re going to demand the person who took them, and I promise that the woman will regret even looking at them.”

He took a deep breath to avoid another tear rolling down his cheek. Probably his world would be as messy as that room in the next few months, yet you were there for him. It was enough.

A/N: So, I know it’s true that Ben’s nudes were posted a while ago because, a fan I think? Anyway, I saw them on a fan page of Bohemian Rhapsody and I reported the post immediately. Please, everyone should understand that famous people should have their privacy. You can’t just post a photo of an actor you’ve seen on the street because you feel like it. I’m sure you wouldn’t like people posting about you, so don’t do it! Sometimes, we forget that famous people are also human, and that they have rights, just like us. Be respectful always!

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody one shot #bohemian rapsody movie #imaginemai #one shot

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

Text

Chapter 22 - Seed + Spark

AN: Alright, sorry it’s taken a minute for this chapter, but it’s long and filled with lots of fun stuff and important banter to learn more about Harry’s feelings towards Harper, so read on!!!! And then as always let me know what you think/talk to me about these two that I am OBSESSED with.

wc: 6k

read the whole story here

When I was younger I always wished I had a brother. My older sister was fine--she was fun and smart and there were moments when I looked up to her. But as I toddled around the small house that we grew up, I remember wondering what it would be like to have a brother who could teach me how to ride a bike or play war with me outside.

But then I met Harper.

And along with Harper came Tierney--another older sister who soon started to tease me and nag me just like my own.

So now I had two older sisters--one by blood and one by street address, and the one my age seemed to like being outside enough that I was more than fine with pretending she was a boy--but that was only until we were 9.

That’s when she started talking about training bras and boyfriends and I was suddenly back to wishing I had a brother who would just play video games and play footy with me.

“Hi lovie!” Gemma greeted, her arms open wide before wrapping around Harper’s middle, gaining a quick eye roll from me behind their backs.

S’not like they hadn’t seen each other a few weeks ago. And they were always texting. I knew that if the group chat between the four of us was quiet, it was only because they’d moved to the one with just the three of them--the one that was probably filled with emojis and laughter and topics that I wanted nothing to do with.

“You live practically five feet from us and this is the first time I’m seeing you in weeks,” Tierney exclaimed, throwing her arms around me as I let out a laugh. I shrugged her off as he reached up to ruffle my hair and poked me in the side.

“I’ve been busy with Quinn,” I said simply, hoping they didn’t pry too hard today. Harper seemed less interested than ever, grabbing a seat across from Gemma’s iPhone on the table they’d previously been sat at when we walked in.

I’d forgotten my oyster card on the way over--leading Harper to swipe hers twice so I could get through the turnstile. She told me about auditions for the newest London Met production--which I knew would soon become the current topic of conversation if Harper had anything to say about it.

“So, how are classes?” Gemma smiled at both of us--I looked over to Harper, silently giving her the cue to take it away. She undoubtedly had more to say than I did--my classes were fine. I was confused about my girlfriend and my childhood neighbor who sat right next to me suddenly seemed more attractive and endearing than I ever remembered.

“Good,” She nodded, watching as our server filled her glass with tea. “Auditions are soon for the fall play, classes are really just starting to pick up.”

“What play is it this year?” Tierney asked excitedly, her blonde hair was shorter than it had been over the summer.

I let my eyes glance back to Harper, waiting for her response. She let out a sigh, “Pride and Prejudice.”

This was how most of my time went with them--my eyes flickering back and forth between the three of them--listening to their laughter and jokes and wondering what it would have been like if I hadn’t been the only boy.

Sure--Harper and Tierney’s dad was around. He taught me how to shave and he took my golfing a few times, but he was often away on business and when he was home, his priority always seemed to be his own children.

“What’s the sigh for?” I asked quickly, bringing the cup of tea to my lips.

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on Gemma and Tierney as she responded to my question. “It’s just so stereotypical. And I also can’t decide who I’d rather be, Jane or Elizabeth.”

Gemma let out a laugh. “Who will be Mr. Darcy?”

“Great question,” Harper rolled her eyes again, setting her tea on the table.

“Pride and Prejudice is a good story,” I said quietly, shrugging my shoulders as I reached to pour some milk into my tea. At that, Gemma, Tierney, and Harper all turned to watch me--as if I’d suddenly been replaced with a cooler and less grumpy version of myself. Maybe they couldn’t tell if I was serious--but when no one said anything, I figured I should explain. “It’s a good love story.”

“How are your classes, sir?” Gemma teased me, raising her eyebrows as she waited for my answer..

“Good,” I sipped at my tea again--the addition of the milk had made it much better. “Taking a bunch of maths stuff, unfortunately.”

Tierney tilted her head and eyed me closely. “Doesn’t that kind of come with the accounting territory?”

I’d always been good with numbers--something that seemed to annoy the daylights out of Harper. She was either giving me shit about it or asking for my help on her homework.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “It’s just higher level stuff, but I’ll be fine. Quinn’s got a birthday coming up, and our anniversary is next week. So I’ve been busy.”

“How many months again?” Tierney asked as she passed Harper a scone.

I counted in my head--my stomach did a flip when my fingers brushed against Harper’s hand as I passed the butter. “Eight, it’ll be.”

Gemma eyed me from across the table. “Pretty serious,” she thought allowed.

I didn’t know if I should admit it. If I did, Harper would likely rub it in my face that she told me so. She’d have a lot to say about how she knew we weren’t a good fit and--with my luck, Harper and her big mouth wouldn’t be able to stay quiet.”

“Yeah, she’s actually been kind of...annoying lately.”

Harper coughed a bit as she bit into her scone--but when I looked over at her, she was busy reaching for napkin to wipe her mouth. She then reached for her tea as Gemma and Tierney kept their eyes on me--apparently I wasn’t about to get away that easily.

“She’s made a lot of comments about the future lately, which is fine and all,” I shrugged, looking from my sister over to Tierney--who nodded in encouragement. “But I don’t want to move too fast. She’s also not--she’s not the most intelligent.”

Harper seemed to still beside me, and with her tea cup to her lips, I could have sworn I heard her let out a quiet--but distinct--laugh. “No offense,” I turned to her, as if their living arrangement and Quinn’s intelligence implied something about Harper. It didn’t, really, but it was always good to throw Harper off my trail.

“None taken,” she said, clenching her teeth together in a forced smile.

“How about you, Harpie--any love interests?” Tierney shot her a smirk and waited for a response. Harper seemed to glare across the table at her older sister as I reached for a butter knife.

“Nope, none, nothing whatsoever!” she laughed, shrugging her shoulders casually--as if she were going to get away with it that easily.

“What about Niall?” I asked, looking up at her and holding her glance for a moment. Her eyebrows dipped in displeasure, she bit her lip as she certainly cursed me under her breath.

“Yeah, he was the one you were on a date with the other night when I called, right?” Tierney pried for more information.

“Yeah, but, I mean--I don’t know. He’s sweet. We’ll see where it goes?”

Harper took another bite of her food, trying her best to get out of the conversation. She never cared for the prying or the questions about her love life, but it only seemed to annoy her more once there seemed to be questions in my direction about her peppy roommate.

Sure, was it awkward for Harper to have walked in on Quinn and I going at it? I could give her that. I felt bad, truly, which is why I’d been trying to be extra careful lately whenever Quinn and I seemed to get busy to lock the door and make enough noise so that if she did end up outside their door, ready to key in, she’d not only know that we were in the middle of something, but she’d know that I was enjoying it.

If I was feeling confused about my feelings for Harper, the least I could do was throw it in her face that I was sleeping with her roommate who she found--at times--intolerable.

But maybe I’d been too transparent by divulging a crack in the foundation. If Harper knew that I had any sort of feelings for her--or worse, if our sisters knew--I’d likely never hear the end of it and I’d surely become laughing stock of the dining table on Christmas Day.

That was something I just couldn’t handle. So while I might be questioning the feeling in my stomach that seemed suddenly as present as it was when we were 9 and she kissed me in the garden, I knew that I had to keep myself in check.

Especially if I wanted to keep hold of my dignity.

I followed Quinn out of the lift and down the hall to her room. It was late--almost bedtime--and she was going on about our anniversary plans and how my disinterest in a particular restaurant somehow meant I didn’t care.

Quinn’s taste was on a different level than mine. She liked fancy clothes and polo matches and she certainly had a taste for expensive restaurants. And with my class schedule and homework load, I had little to no time for employment, leaving me with an empty wallet and a love for cheap takeout and nights in.

“It’s 8 months, Harry,” she turned around as she keyed into their room, pushing the door open to allow me entry. “It’s a big deal!”

“M’not saying it’s not, Quinn, I just--don’t you want to go to that new burger place off campus? I heard it’s good!”

“That’s not a restaurant you go for your anniversary, Harry!” She dropped her backpack on the floor and shed her coat.

“It’s only eight months,” I told her, my voice defeated and quiet now. The bathroom door was shut and the light was on inside, Harper was likely getting ready for bed--as Quinn took off her necklace and laid it on her dresser, the thought crossed my mind that Harper would be more than okay with grabbing a burger and she’d probably even like the fact that I wanted to stay in most nights.

“It feels like you don’t care,” Quinn turned around, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m not saying that I don’t care, Quinn,” I told her. “I’m just saying that we don’t need to go to Havaland’s.”

“We never go out anywhere nice for dinner! We always just eat in the dining hall or the student center,” she whined.

“That’s because we’re in uni and it’s free,” I reminded her, letting my head jut forward on my neck. I didn’t know why she cared so much. We’d gone on nice dates in the beginning, when I was still trying to impress her and I was trying to piss Harper off even more than I was now.

“Fine,” Quinn shot back, her voice was clipped and angry now. “I’m taking a walk. Hopefully you won’t be here in ten minutes when I get back.”

She grabbed at heer coat that she’d discarded only seconds ago and turned for the door, letting it slam behind her as she left me in the room alone. I let out a sigh--wondering how much longer I could take the fighting and the stark differences between Quinn and I.

I looked to the bathroom door again--it’d been quiet inside, but there was no doubt Harper had her ear pressed up against the door as she tried to make out every word. She was nosy--she always had been.

I walked towards the door to their bathroom and reached for the handle, opening it to reveal and empty bathroom. A pang of a disappointment lit up in my chest at first, but then I heard some sort of noise from behind the shower curtain. I shifted on my feet, trying to peer through the curtain for a second, and when I caught the right light, I could make out a figure: one that was decidedly Harper-shaped.

Instead of pulling it aside and exposing her so quickly, I walked to the toilet--seeing if I could get her to come out on her own accord. She didn’t--she kept quiet and only let out another noise when her cellphone--which she’d left in plain sight on the counter--dinged.

“Fuck,” she cursed from behind the curtain as I reached down to flush the toilet.

I walked over, pulled the curtain aside, and stared at her with wide eyes. I looked her up and down once. Pyjama shorts, a baggy t-shirt, and some sort of green paste smeared over her cheeks, forehead, and chin. “Nice face,” I sneered, a smirk on my lips as I walked back to the bedroom.

She climbed out behind me and spit into the sink, dropping her toothpaste to the counter as she wiped her mouth on a towel. “Nice fight,” she said, walking into the room to find me sat on Quinn’s bed.

I let out a breath and rubbed my eyes. “I don’t get why girls think we need to spend money on them to prove our love. Doesn’t she know that I’m broke, too? I don’t have time for a job.”

She didn’t answer--which is when I realized I’d probably never been so transparent with her. Sure--we’d had our fair share of talks about life and love and things in between, but never since we were 14 and she dated Alec Bentford and I (maybe purposefully) ruined it.

When she didn’t respond, I looked up at her again. “What is that?”

“It’s a face mask,” she said quietly, her eyes on mine only for a second before she looked around the room uncomfortable.

“Does it take away the ugly?” He laughed, hoping that an insult would somehow press an imaginary reset button--allowing us to go back to how things normally were.

“Get out,” she said, pointing towards the door with her index finger.

“Oh jesus, Harper, relax,” I groaned. “I’m kidding.”

She watched me for a minute, almost as if she knew something had changed. She could feel the sudden change in the air that maybe, I didn’t hate her as much as I pretended.

Another moment of silence before she spoke. “Do you really think Quinn is--annoying?”

I was silent, staring at the floor in thought. Should I be honest? Should I tell Harper Coleman that her roommate was fine, but I was more interested in what type of burger she would order if I took her on a date?

I decided against that. “I mean, she can be. You heard her.”

She nodded, her arms crossed over her chest now as if to hide her old Kelly Clarkson t-shirt. “Do you love her?”

“I guess so,” I shrugged, unsure of how to answer. I mean, I told her I did, there were moments where I felt it was true. But lately, my mind was elsewhere. My mind was on the blatantly American girl with a loud laugh and a big personality.

She scoffed a bit at that, her eyebrows dipped to let me know she didn't like my answer. “You guess so?”

I rolled my eyes at this, suddenly feeling uncomfortably close to her. I moved over to her desk and studied the pictures on it as she stood in the middle of the room.There was one of her and Tierney with their parents, one with Gemma and Tierney from her 18th birthday, and then an obnoxious selfie of her and Millie in matching blue dresses from our first year.

“That’s what I said--isn’t it?”

She at on her bed, watching as I picked up the frame with the photo of her and Millie inside. I studied it for a second but then placed it back on her desk. “I’ll see you later,” I grunted, moving towards the door.

With my hand on the knob and a rush of adrenaline in my veins, I looked over my shoulder as I opened the door a crack. “You look good in blue.”

I was walking to class on Thursday morning when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I reached a hand in and felt the cool glass of the screen as I pulled it out into the chilled morning air. Quinn’s name was on the screen, and from the preview of her first words, I could already tell she was still upset about the fight we’d had a few nights earlier.

If I was going to pay attention in class, the last thing I needed was to be fighting with her via text message so early in the morning. I slipped it back into my pocket just as I walked into the building where my class was.

When I first started at London Met, I prayed to the gods of scheduling that my classes would be Harper-free. It only felt fair that I’d done my time throughout the earlier portion of my life where she’d been rather inescapable. Now, it seemed, was my time to live a life away from her and figure out what life was like without hearing her too-loud laugh just a few feet behind me wherever I went.

That’s why I was so upset when I first learned that she’d also been accepted to London Met and even more so when I learned she would be attending. Our mums used it as an excuse to carpool into London on move-in day, and it seemed to excite Gemma and Tierney even more.

So I tried hard at first to steer clear of her--I did my best to ignore her in the dining hall, I tried to just pretend I didn’t even know who she was.

That only lasted a few weeks until I needed her to show me how to use the campus washer-dryers. Then I realized her roommate was rather fit and that me dating her would likely irk Harper to the point that she wanted nothing to do with me. Which, hopefully, would lead to the subsiding of the confusing feelings I felt whenever she said something equally annoying and endearing. It’d been 14 years and I’d yet to really find a way to get rid of them.

So when I walked into the one class I had with her and realized that the only open seat was directly beside her, I probably rolled my eyes a little too obviously. How was I supposed to figure out how I felt about anyone if I could never get space?

I slid into the seat in silence, thankful for the fact that Professor Kirkland’s back was to the board as she began her twice-weekly lecture. Harper--who typically offered at least a smile--seemed to not even glance in my direction when looked over at her.

Instead, she typed away on her computer, blew a bubble with the gum in her mouth, and let her eyes flicker up to the board every few seconds.

A few minutes passed and she still pretended I wasn’t here. Professor Kirkland droned on. I started to bounce my leg.

Nothing.

A few more minutes, I cleared my throat twice, shifted in my seat, looked back over at her. Her fingers hit her keyboard with more force now, she squinted her eyes at the board and then looked back down to her laptop.

I tapped my pencil on my notebook three times, eyes glued to her face.

She turned to me quickly when Professor Kirkland wasn’t looking, her eyes pointed and angry. “What do you want?” She whisper-hissed at me.

I leaned in closer to her to keep my voice quiet. “Did, err---did Quinn say anything the other night when she came back?”

She rolled her eyes--as if my question wasn’t nearly as important as she expected it to be. “No, she was just upset.”

I tilted my head to the side--a curiosity growing in my gut as I was plagued with a thousand questions. Had Quinn actually been upset? Was she angry and Harper was feeling more loyal to her roommate than she was to the kid with floppy hair that grew up down the street?

And why was Harper ignoring me this morning? What had I done within the last few days to bother her? Did she even care that my relationship with Quinn was headed downhill?

“How upset?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Very, now shut up!”

I leaned back quickly, taken back by her words and her attitude--one that I was used to, but one that usually felt more playful than in the present moment. I stared at her again, her blonde hair was pulled up into a pony-tail at the back of her head. She had a bright coloured headband on, she pulled at the sleeve of her sweatshirt and rested her chin in her hand.

“I think I might break up with her,” I said quietly, my eyes still on her as she tried to face forward.

But this worked--her eyes went wide and her hand shot up faster than ever. “Professor Kirkland, I--uh--I think I’m having a reaction to...peanuts!” Her hands immediately clasped around her throat as she let out an awkward and forced laugh. She stood, looked down at me--as if I was about to hop on the crazy train with her--and then she looked back at Professor Kirkland, who was just as confused as the rest of us. “Harry has to bring me to health services.”

Professor Kirkland--who was a middle aged woman with short red hair--simply watched as Harper grabbed me by the arm, gathered her belongings, and pulled me out the door once I shoved my notebook in my bag. Once we were in the hallway, she let out a breath. “That was close.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I laughed a little bit, wiggling out of her grasp. She started walking towards the exit, I fell into step next to her.

“You don’t just drop that type of bombshell on someone in class.”

Bombshell? It didn’t necessarily feel like one to me--but I guess I hadn’t exactly explained all of my deep secrets to Harper.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, shrugging my shoulders casually so as to not seem too unstable or impulsive. “I just don’t think she’s right for me anymore. Don’t know if she ever was, really.”

“I would have to agree,” she said simply, seemingly catching herself off guard with her own honesty. She tried to downplay her words. “I mean, I just think you deserve someone who doesn’t expect you to spend money on them!”

“Why do you care who I date?” I turned to eye her more closely, a smirk tugging at my mouth as she seemed to make a face and look away. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and blinked a few times.

“I don’t!” She claimed. “I just want you to be happy.”

A fluttering feeling seemed to grow in my chest--the possibility of Harper caring who I dated felt foreign and new and almost impossible. She was always ready to take the piss and embarrass me in front of anyone who would listen. She looked over at me quickly--just as confused by the silence and the feeling in the air between us.

I changed the subject. “You’re not actually allergic to peanuts, are you?”

She scoffed, leave it to Harper to put on an award-winning performance mid-lecture with no script. “No, but I’m surprised Kirkland bought that--you Brits barely eat peanuts over here.”

She held the door open as we stepped outside.

“I was gonna say--I couldn’t believe I’ve known you for fourteen years and didn’t know something like that.”

She smiled a bit at that, but looked away when I took my phone out of my pocket--wondering if now was the time to face the wrath of Quinn.

“I’m gonna head to the library. Get some work done,” she said, her eyes on the busy quad before us. Students walked and passed by--some were only now leaving the dining hall after having a leisurely breakfast.

I paused for a minute. I had work to do and would likely benefit from some time in the library, but asking to tag along would likely weird Harper out and be a territory neither of us had ever crossed into.

“I’m gonna head over to Quinn’s--well, your dorm.”

“Okay, yeah,” Harper nodded. “See you later.”

With that, she walked away--leaving me to question what crossing that line would even look like.

When I saw Quinn the day of Harper’s fake peanut reaction, she had a lot to say about why I was being cheap--but also a lot to say about the fact that she loved me despite it. So instead of ending things with her right then and there--which I’d partially prepared for on my walk over--we ended up making out a fair bit until she had to head out for class.

So now, I was in the same flat we spent most of our weekends in--a beer in my hand as she laced her fingers between mine. I’d ventured into the kitchen earlier only to see Harper and Niall chatting like old friends--he leaned an arm on the counter and seemed to laugh at everything she said.

Harper was funny--don’t get me wrong--but she wasn’t that funny. She had her own sense of humor that you had to either get or not get. I felt like spending most Friday nights with her and Gemma in front of the telly in their living room lended a hand in terms of me being one of the few people who really got it. She was sarcastic and witty and clever and she wasn’t afraid to poke fun at you. Maybe that’s why I was the same way in return.

Harper had grown to annoy me much more in our recent years. When we were ten and our biggest argument was about who got to use the better hockey stick when we played outside, she’d eventually redeem herself by offering me a cookie from her mum’s pantry or by asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

As the relationship between Harper and I became more complicated as we grew up, so did the fights we had.

She couldn’t stand the girls I dated and I couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as the boys she had crushes on. We’d go weeks on end without speaking to each other, but we’d always find our way back together--typically with prodding from our older sisters.

It was never long before our mothers had the four of us together for something--Sunday supper, a trip into town to go shopping for school clothes. Our mums were just as close as our older sisters, so no matter what happened between me and good old Harper, I had no doubt that we’d always find our way through it.

Things felt different as we got older--especially now in Uni. We had different friends, different courses, different dorms. She was no longer the girl down the street who I knew would come crashing in my front door if there was a new movie she wanted to see.

I was just about to excuse myself to the bathroom when Harper stumbled into the dim living room of Katie and Preston’s flat. She was drunk--no surprise there--and Millie seemed to be shoving her in the direction of the karaoke machine on the ground.

I watched as Katie pressed a few buttons and Millie handed Harper the microphone, they all started swaying and laughing as the music filled the room--someone had shut off whatever was previously leaking out of the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen.

I watched her--almost mesmerized by the way her face lit up when she smiled and the way she effortless danced to the beat. She twirled Millie beneath her arm, laughing as they bumped into Katie and a bit of her drink landed on the carpet.

Quinn--who was in the middle of talking with Liam about the odds of winning their next match--didn’t even look over when Harper sang into the microphone. Her voice was one I’d recognize anywhere, but only because I’d grown up hearing it on the other side of a door.

Harper loved performing of any sort, really. She was loud and confident and she had the personality where she’d get up on stage and people didn’t really care what she did. They just wanted more of her.

Which was annoying when you were 14 and trying to figure out if this was going to be the mother of your children. I did my best to appear completely unfazed by her sudden show--I sipped at my drink and caught every few words of whatever Liam and Quinn were saying.

Eventually, Liam disappeared to get another drink for my girlfriend, leaving her to turn back to me and figure out where all the noise was coming from.

“That’s Harper?” She asked somewhat incredulously. She was drunk, but not that drunk.

“I take it you’ve never really heard her sing?”

“I mean--aside from just in the shower or humming around the room.”

I widened my eyes a bit at that--I was surprised Harper wasn’t more obnoxious in their shared living space. Growing up she used to make me sit criss-cross in the living room to watch her prance around with a feather boa and a telly remote as a microphone.

“Yeah, well, she’s good.” I shrugged nonchalantly.

Liam reappeared a few seconds later, handing Quinn another drink and tossing me a new beer as well. When Harper set her microphone down and headed towards the bathroom with Millie,. Quinn reached and grabbed for her arm.

“You’re phenomenal, I mean, I knew you could sing, I always hear you in the shower,” she smiled up at my childhood playmate. “I didn’t know you were that good!”

Harper smiled somewhat sheepishly--likely knowing that I wasn’t as impressed as everyone else in the room.

“A very American song choice,” I said quickly, letting my eyes meet hers for a second.

She smirked at that, dropping my gaze for a second before looking up at me as Millie tugged her in the direction of the bathroom. “That was exactly my point.”

The last place I wanted to be on a Friday night was standing next to Harper in the hallway of their dorm--helping her prop Quinn upright as she tried to key into their room. Quinn wasn’t much of a drinker--but she’d had a big test this week and managed to do well--so she’d decided to let loose. A bit too loose.

Harper nudged the door open with her foot, allowing us inside just in time to lose grip on Quinn and hoist her up onto her twin bed.

“Jesus,” I groaned, watching as she slumped onto her pillow. Quinn--though conscious--was already emitting slight snores as Harper tried to take her shoes off.

“How many drinks did she have?” She asked, tossing her shoes towards her closet before reaching for a blanket at the foot of her own bed. She handed it to me.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, unfolding it and draping it over a sleeping Quinn. “Maybe four or five.”

“Four of five? Harry, she can’t handle that much!”

“Well I know that now! “ I motioned to her still body, her eyelids closed as her breathing steadied.

I was quiet for a moment--Harper took her earrings out as she walked to her dresser.

“I forgot how well you can sing,” I said, turning to face her. She stared at me for a second--likely wondering if I was about to follow it up with an insult.

“Yeah, just a fun past time,” she brushed it off, reaching for a hair tie to throw her hair up and out of her face. Neither of us spoke. I watched her closely, close enough to the point that she turned away and walked over to her closet as if she were looking for something.

I counted five seconds before she spoke again. “So what ever happened to--you know--losing the girlfriend?”

I looked over to Quinn, presumably to ensure that she was still asleep. I let out a sigh and sat on Harper’s bed--watching as she reached for a makeup wipe.

“I don’t know--we were talking about it and she got all sad and I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with her crying.”

She laughed quickly, pulling a weird face. “You’re telling me that Quinn crying freaked you out?”

“I didn’t say it freaked me out, I said I wasn’t in the mood.”

She let out a noise of displeasure--or disbelief, maybe--and walked over to the bathroom. I expected her to shut the door, but she left it open a crack so I could still see her figure standing at the sink. When she didn’t say anything, I caved.

“How’s Niall?” I asked into the air--unsure if she’d hear me or if she’d answer. She fumbled around in the bathroom, then reappeared dressed in pyjama shorts and a t-shirt.

“Fine,” she said quickly--almost as if she didn’t want to talk about it at all. I had no idea where things stood between them. Where they together? Were they sleeping together? They’d been on a date and they spend most of the night together in Katie and Preston’s. That only left me to assume the worst.

The insult tumbled out of me like second-nature. “Surprised that Harper Coleman has the integrity to be faithful to one guy.”

She stared at me for a second when I let out a laugh at my own joke.

“I’m surprised you have enough human in you to care about Quinn’s feelings. I always thought you were at least eighty percent stray dog.”

This made me laugh even more--enough so that I leaned back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was the alcohol in me, but it felt nice to just be spending time with her. No Millie, no Quinn, really. Silence fell over us again.

“You’re a lot,” I said quietly, tracing shape in the popcorn ceiling with my eyes.

She didn’t respond at first. She stood in the middle of the room--her bare feet on the hardwood floor of her dorm, a sleeping Quinn between us.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes still on mine.

She walked over and sat at the foot of her bed, I shifted to make room for her as we just watched each other for a minute. There were a few drunken voices in the hallway when the lift dinged to signal its arrival--but they were soon shut behind a door and the only sound we were left with was Quinn’s steady breathing.

I sat up, looked over to Quinn, and then back to Harper. It wasn’t the first time I’d considered kissing Harper Coleman.

I thought about it once at a school dance. I thought about it once when we were 16 and both learning to drive. I’d thought about it too many times to count.

But I opted against it--not just because my girlfriend was lying in a bed beside us--but mostly because of what I’d be risking if it didn’t go well.

If I didn’t kiss Harper, she was guaranteed to be a part of my life forever. Even if that was only because of our mothers and our sisters. Even if she hated me, there were a thousand strings tying us together that made it hard to escape.

But if I did kiss her, I might as well hand her a pair of scissors--permission, really--to cut all of those strings if something went wrong and never look back.

I wasn’t ready to arm her like that. At least not tonight.

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buckybabybaby · 5 years

Text

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 6)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1949

Chapter summary: Is Bucky really busy, or just ignoring you?

No Bucky in this chapter :( just talk of.

Warnings: A bit sad?

Chapter 5

Mr Hollywood Masterlist

Masterlist

*****

Peggy being made deputy head two years ago was the breath of fresh air the school needed. Government lead reports always came back positive, and the children left happy and ready to take on the world by the end of year six, but like she constantly reminds you, there is always room for improvement. She is particularly good at the non curriculum side of events, the number of after school clubs have doubled since she was put in charge, and she is also keen to keep the day to day school timetable fun.

Take the pancake race. They're not actual pancakes, that could get messy and be a waste of food, so instead the children have decorated round pieces of paper with the topping they would like, which are used in place of the real thing, incorporating both art and sport.

Standing on the playground, you listen delightedly to the excited chatter from your line of Year One's, each blowing out clouds of white steam into the cold air. It's a relatively simple event, just an up and down race attempting to balance their pancake on a saucepan, and you're glad is shouldn't take too long as your fingers are going numb. Bouncing slightly to stop your toes going the same way, you snuggle into your scarf, watching Peter organise the stages smoothly. You've been so impressed by how quickly he's settled in that sometimes you forget he's relatively new. He has a way about him, charming without being sleazy, and you've joked with him before that his youthfulness helps him bond so well with the five and six year olds.

Edwin sidles up next to you and you share a smile, able to tell that he too is relishing the half hour break this activity is giving the two of you, happy to let the teaching assistants be in charge for a bit. It also gives you a chance to catch up, as even with shared lessons a couple of times a week, its a rare occasion when there aren't children to attend to or planning to begin.

“How's Ana?” You inquire. “And the girls?”

“They're good, thank you. Causing mayhem, nothing new.”

“Who, Ana? Or Emilia and Isabella?”

He snickers. “All three. But I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Grinning, you both clap politely as one race ends, before he asks, “Have you heard from James recently?”

His question has your heart sinking. It's innocent in it's intent, he knows how close you two are, and everyone in the staff room has loved the little updates you've been able to give them on their former colleague, but what he doesn't know is that you haven't heard from Bucky in over a month.

The last message you got from him was on new years eve, so technically there's been radio silence from him all year so far. At first it was just like it had been, a week or two with no response hadn't been unusual, but when you flipped your calendar to February and there had still been no interaction it started to become worrying. He's exhausted, that's what you tell yourself, but you can see he's read them, so how hard could it be for him to send a five word reply? As a consequence you'd slowed down your own texts. In the past you had sent one everyday, a little taste of home, of normality, you had hoped, to keep him updated on life back here, but now, looking at the outgoing compared to the non existent incoming, you are filled with embarrassment.

“Err no, but you know how it is. Always busy.”

“I'm sure he'll call when he can.”

You want to believe that's true, but with every passing day it seems less and less likely.

*****

A shake up of your routine in the form of a birthday party invitation is very welcome in early March. Little Benjamin is not so little any more, as signified by the big number three balloons floating around the living room, remarkably tidy given the number of toddlers running about. It's peculiar being here without Bucky acting as a buffer between his extended family and you, and you realise how much you hid behind him at such events. Sometimes quite literally.

Needing a minute by yourself after the birthday boy finishes blowing out the candles, you retreat to the kitchen. That's where Dayton's wife, Sophia, catches you red handed, shovelling down your third slice of cake. You try to apologise but she shakes her head with a grin, grabbing a plate herself and tucking in. Leaning against the cabinets next to you, she declines your offer when you motion towards the coffee pot, making you frown, knowing her love of caffeine.

She explains her actions. “Don't tell Day I told you before he could, but we're expecting again.”

It was more a case of when not if they had another child, they were both such natural parents, and this news has you tearing up as you mumble your congratulations through a mouthful of icing. Embracing her delicately, hyper aware of not crushing her, you wonder if Bucky already knows. When he'd been sworn to secrecy about their first baby, it had taken him less than a day to break that oath and tell you, and surely family would be told first, so has he managed to keep the secret this time? Or is this more evidence that he's forgotten about you?

Distracting yourself from those dark thoughts, you start speaking in a rush. “How far along are you? Are you going to find out the gender? Does Benjamin know?”

Giggling at your enthusiasm, she gently coaxes you back into the sitting room whilst she answers your queries. “We haven't told Benjamin yet, because as soon as he knows, the whole world will too, so it's just family for now. We'll tell him soon.”

“He'll be such a good older brother.”

“Like Bucky is to Dayton.”

“Nineteen minutes isn't much older,” You chuckle, despite the knot in your tummy at the mention of his name.

She excuses herself to play host, leaving you alone, and open to being coerced into a game of snakes and ladders on a giant floor mat.

*****

By the end of the afternoon you're worn out, wondering how parents do this all day. Helping tidy up after the rest of the guests left has nearly done you in, and you're close to nodding off on the sofa when Dayton comes to invite you to stay for dinner

“Or do you want me to drive you home?” He asks, amused.

“I came on the train, you don't need to bother yourself.”

“Not a bother, come on, I'll drop you off at the station.”

Relenting gratefully, you wish a sleepy Benjamin a happy birthday again, squeeze Sophia lightly, and let Dayton lead you out to the driveway and into one of his more modest cars.

Gliding smoothly up the drive and indicating to turn onto the main road, his voice only just keeps you awake. “Sophia told you about the baby?”

Remembering her earlier words, you feign ignorance. “Baby?”

He laughs at your unconvincing acting. “I know she did, I could tell by the way you hugged her goodbye. It's okay, I don't mind she got there first.”

“I'm really happy for you both.”

“Thank you.”

The drive continues in a comfortable silence, and you study his profile as he concentrates on the road. It's almost painful looking at him when he looks so much like his twin. His hair is a bit shorter and straighter, and he may be a few centimetres taller, but everything else is identical, even down to the way he sits behind the wheel, casually confident.

The image makes your heart ache.

“Have you,” You start, unsure what to say. “Have you heard from Bucky recently?”

You try to sound nonchalant, as if his answer is unimportant.

“Yeah. Why, what's he said?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing at all for two months,” You admit quietly. It feels good to tell someone, however pitiful it makes you seem.

“What do you mean-” Glancing over, he notices your eyes filling, and checking his mirrors, slams on the brakes. Flung forward in your seat, you brace your hands against the dashboard as he steers the car to the side of the street. It's a controlled stop because of his driving experience, he didn't crash his racing car because he was a bad driver, but that doesn't mean it's any less scary for you. Pulling on the hand brake, he turns to you, waiting until your breathing is calmer to talk.

“So tell me, what has my idiot of a brother done now?”

Your heart is still racing as you think of how to explain. Bucky hasn't really done anything, has he? There was never a discussion about how often you would contact each other, you had just thought that, with modern technology, a couple of lines a week wouldn't be asking too much.

Dayton breaks through your inner debate.

“Okay, I wasn't going to say this because I didn't think it meant anything, but Bucky was all mopy last time I saw him, and now I see you're not any better. What on earth is going on?”

Ignoring most of his statement, you focus on the confusing bit. “When did you see him?”

“Last week. I assumed he'd go to see you too but clearly not.”

“He was over here?”

He nods. “You haven't said anything to him either?”

“No,” You sniff, wiping at the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. “I don't know what I've done wrong.”

Sighing, he pulls you into a hug, letting you cry into his collar. “You haven't done anything wrong. It's just... He's always been so stupid when it comes to you.”

You don't know if you should be offended by that or not, however you are too tired to work out or ask him to explain, being so emotionally vulnerable in front of someone can be draining. Finding out that Bucky is definitely avoiding you and it's not in your head has hit you hard, and it takes you a while to slow the tears and untangle yourself from Dayton.

Sitting back in your seat, he starts the car again and you spend the rest of the journey thinking of anything but Bucky. Or at least trying to. Opening your window a crack you lean your head on the frame, the cool air helping revive you and dry your eyes, and you appreciate the radio being turned up as a distraction.

Parking in front of the small railway station, he makes sure you're feeling okay, convinced you're better from the smile as you dodge away from his attempts to fix a woolly hat on your head.

“I'm not cold!”

He tucks it in to your pocket anyway, “Just in case.”

Checking that a train is arriving soon, he only allows you out of the car as the front lights of the engine come into view along the line. Thanking him, you close the passenger door, and as you're making your way to the platform he calls through the window out to you.

“He'll be in touch soon.”

“I hope so.”

“He will. And we're always here, you know that.”

“I do.”

Waving goodbye you board the train, thankful now more than ever to have him in your life. Whilst he's not Bucky, he's still holds the same affection in your heart. You've known Dayton, and Sophia and Benjamin, as long as you've known the eldest Barnes twin, and maybe they're all you have to remind you of him now.

*****

Chapter 7

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood

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skelezbian · 5 years

Note

yo can i get some fuckin uhhhhh stage makeup au w/swapfell sans and/or holding cell au w/swapfell papyrus??? (also props to you for writing the only swapfell sans that i actually like. that's quite an accomplishment 👍)

thank you v much! i decided to do the sf!sans w the stage makeup au bc it was just fun :^)

posted to ao3 here!

“You’re the one person who can do my elaborate stage makeup so every night you spend half an hour in close proximity to my face and I am Distressed” au

If Sans had a better sense of humor, perhaps he could laugh at how ridiculous his life had become. The Sans that had been sworn to capture all humans, knighted and sharing the position of head of the Royal Guard with Alphys, the Sans with the holding cell in a little-used shed… The violent, tyrannical, iron-fisted monster he’d once been would crush him to dust if he could see what he’d become, what he now did.

Here he was, pinching a beauty blender between his skeletal fingers, hovering over the human ambassador to the Underground, his gloves long-since abandoned on your makeup table.

He should find the situation hilarious, how far he’d fallen, how silly the situation, but instead he tilts your head from side-to-side, examining his contour. Stunning, as always. You were always a work of art, makeup or none.

“How do I look?” You bat the eyelashes that he had just painstakingly layered onto your eyelids, and he rolls his eye-lights in response. As if the answer would ever be any different.

“NOT AS GOOD AS YOU’LL LOOK ONCE I FINISH. HUSH.” Your lips curl in amusement, rolling your eyes playfully at him and scooting around on your seat. Your smile is just as sweet as that first night you’d met, stumbling out of the Ruins with a curious look on your face, delighted by the fact that it was snowing underground. Of course, the smile was soon wiped off of your face when he had stepped out from the woods to capture you, culminating in a rather sour stalemate as you refused to fight but also, skillfully dodging him, refused to be hit.

When they were Underground, Sans hadn’t given two shits about your occupation on the Surface- Papyrus was more than happy to curiously peer at you and ask for your celebrity stories, sitting and hovering around you as you sang your little human songs while you “WORKED OFF YOUR CRIME’S SENTENCE” in their home. You’d rolled your eyes then, just as you rolled your eyes now (half-amused and half-curious), and taken to the rather mediocre household chores he’d asked of you. Ultimately, he’d been surprised by your usefulness, your kindness, and that soft, tired smile you gave them once you were back inside the house after wandering around town.

And, now, here he was, holding your chin like you were a canvas that needed just one more dash of paint. It’d started as a joke too many months ago, you joking about vlogging the first human-monster makeup mess while winging your eyeliner and wagging your eyebrows at him, and Sans, never one to back down from a challenge, immediately set about proving you wrong. On the surface, he quickly learned that he was only about three Youtube videos from mastering a skill, and he spent an unreasonable amount of time watching videos of humans slapping paint onto their skin in precise strokes.

Of course, all of that had been to prove that he could easily master any human skill. Of course it hadn’t been to impress you.

He had a strange idea about color palettes and he’d had to reveal his bare hands to you after fumbling with the brush too much, but the end result had been striking and you’d been so impressed that you never went to your shows without him taking a pass at you. All the while, he’d grumble and grunt and act as if he weren’t having the time of his life, your face delicately cradled in his hands, the wide holes through his palms being brushed by your slight exhales. There was a pride to this, being so good at this task that no other human could compare, where you completely surrendered and trusted in his guidance.

“I don’t think my contour needs to be-” He quiets you by tilting your chin up- only when you’re sitting down is he tall enough to even consider a move like this. You laugh-snort, delight evident in your voice as you look at his avid concentration, “Sansy, it’s not so serious!” He’s just about to chastise you for crinkling your eyes and the powder surrounding them, hand half-raised to fix it, but you catch your hand in his.

“OF COURSE IT’S SERIOUS TO ME. IT’S FOR YOU.” It stumbles out of his mouth, supposed to be a gruff complaint, but he can’t help the tenderness that slips through. You look surprised, and he tries to deflect as hard as possible by pointing a lip gloss wand at you, “YOUR PERFORMANCE IS IN FIVE MINUTES. I NEEDED TO HAVE YOU READY TEN MINUTES AGO.” As he rounds the swell of your lips with the wand, he tries to distract himself from how soft they are, how pretty the color he’d chosen looked on you. A stunning red, chosen to match your outfit, and certainly not for his preferences.

You’re silent until he finishes, knowing what a pain the sticky lip gloss would be if it was smeared anywhere else other than your lips. When he’s done, you smack your lips together and blot, your eyes trained on him the whole time. With a mischievous look, you ask, “Kiss for good luck?” and start leaning towards the swell of his cheekbone, your lips pursed in a perfect red pout.

Sans freezes, staring at you as if you had just threatened him with bodily harm, then starts to sink down to your level as if he were a slime instead of a skeleton. When your breath brushes his cheek, your lips likely soon to follow, he suddenly realizes the situation and straightens up, “I WON’T LET YOU RUIN MY HARD WORK-” You pull back immediately, your mischief dissolved, your expression almost professional.

“Oh, uh, right. My bad, Sans- I got kinda caught up, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Guess I should be on my way, huh? Crowd’s waiting for me.” Instead of a kiss, you pat his cheek fondly, friendly.

This time, he’s the one to stop you, catching your wrist. “BUT. IF THE OFFER STILL STANDS, I WOULD-” He fumbles for a word that isn’t ‘love’. “-GREATLY ENJOY CASHING IN AFTER THE SHOW.”

#sans x reader #undertale imagines #reader insert #undertale #swapfell sans #my writing #Anonymous

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mercurialmechanisms · 5 years

Text

The Cost of Success - Chapter 1

Hey everyone! Recently, I took part in a Pokémon themed Big Bang event! It’s been really fun, and now it’s time to show what we’ve made! There will be five chapters plus an epilogue, all posted on their own with links to the other parts.

Also, in Big Bang fashion, I was paired with an artist who made an amazing piece to accompany mine! Please go and give Silva a look!

THE COST OF SUCCESS - CHAPTER 1

Michael took a moment to observe the group of people clambering off of the helicopter before him. There were five of them, dressed in identical black and red tactical uniforms. Michael looked them over, mentally running through the short bios that had been attached to their Search and Recovery certifications.

There was Amanda, the oldest of the group, and her partner Scyther. They had been with Team Rocket for thirteen years, and had recently switched from Asset Protection to Search and Recovery. Then there were the twins, Kyle and Kris, and their Machamps. They were inseparable, and built almost as tall and broad as their chosen Pokémon. There was Portia, who had only joined Team Rocket a of year and a half ago but had already proven to be a brilliant trainer, along with her Haunter. The last one was Alex, a talented bird keeper who, as far as anyone could tell, was completely mute and had mastered the art of giving his Pidgeotto wordless commands. Michael and his partner, Alakazam, rounded out the group.

“Alright, is everyone ready to go?”

A chorus of affirmatives answered him, and he nodded. He waved at the helicopter pilot to get their attention, then gave them a thumbs up. She returned the gesture, a moments later the helicopter was rising into the sky once more.

“Let’s get moving, I’ll brief you all as we go. Amanda,” Michael gestured ahead of them, “you and Scyther take point.”

Amanda nodded and pulled a Poké Ball from one of the pouches on her vest.

“Alright Scy,” she called, pressing the button on the front of the Poké Ball, “let’s get to work!”

Scyther appeared in a flash of light, letting out a cry and eagerly setting to work on the underbrush. Amanda followed close behind him, and the rest of them fell in line behind her.

“About three weeks ago, one of the research teams under Dr. Fuji made a discovery about a kilometer from this location,” Michael started. “A temple, they said, amongst the ruins of city. When they went to investigate however, they all just—disappeared. There’s been no trace of them since then: no radio contact, no visual confirmation.”

“How can a whole group of people disappear?” Kris—no, Kyle—asked. The twins were near impossible to tell apart; the fact that they used the same Pokémon didn’t help.

“That’s what we’re here to find out. Alex,” Michael pointed into the air as he looked at the bird keeper, “have Pidgeotto fly above us, make sure we’re headed the right way. The ruins should be visible from the air.”

Alex nodded, sending the bird Pokémon perched on his shoulders into the sky with a gesture. She disappeared above the trees, then reappeared a minute later, returning to Alex’s shoulders. She stared straight ahead, and Alex nodded, indicating they were still headed where they should.

“So we have no idea what we’re headed into then?” Kris—that one was Kris, he had the scar above his left eye—asked.

“Do we ever?” Portia said from the behind them, stroking her Haunter’s head affectionately as they walked. Haunter refused to stay in its Poké Ball; it had nearly caused their helicopter pilot to crash when Haunter had popped up unexpectedly in the cockpit with her.

Michael only half listened to them talk to each other, glancing around as they walked. He didn’t like having to work with a group of people he didn’t know, but there was no choice: his own team was still in Sinnoh, trying to reach the researchers that had been trapped by an avalanche while exploring the top of Mt. Coronet. He hadn’t wanted to leave them, but he had trained Mavis himself—he knew she could handle everything there just fine.

Even if he hadn’t trusted her so much, he would have left. You didn’t say no to Giovanni.

The team he was with now was new, having only finished their training two months ago. They had been trained by Reginald, who had been in charge of Search and Recovery before Michael had taken his place. Thinking about it all still left a bitter taste in the back of Michael’s throat: the accident leading to Reginald’s early retirement, taking over as Head of Search and Recovery. Reginald was a great leader and a great man, but more than that he was Michael’s closest friend. Taking his place had been necessary, but painful nonetheless.

“So what’s the plan then?” Portia asked, coming to walk beside Michael. “Get in, get the scientists, and get out?”

Michael nodded, “It depends. If they are okay, or in any condition to continue their work, we are to contact Rocket HQ and inform them of the situation. They’ll send in a protection team to replace us and keep watch while the scientists work.”

“And if they aren’t? Or we don’t find them?”

“Then we report that and await further orders.”

Portia made to speak again, but was cut off by Amanda calling to them from several yards ahead.

“I think we’re here!”

Michael jogged to catch up to her and Scyther. The trees became thinner as he passed, until they stopped altogether just behind where the two of them were standing. Michael passed through the tree line and immediately felt his stomach drop. It was as if he had stepped into a different world altogether: the air was still and heavy, and he could no longer hear the cries of Pokémon or the wind moving the trees that had followed them the whole journey so far. He could feel eyes on them, though he couldn’t tell where they were coming from.

A few yards from where he stood was the ruined city the scientists had reported. What had once been a stone wall surrounding the city was now scattered piles of rocks, and Michael stepped over one to enter the city proper. Michael took cautious steps forward, examining the busted pillars and crumbled walls as they passed.

“I recognize these marks,” Portia whispered, grazing her fingers against one of the knocked over pillars. “These are Unown, just like in the Ruins of Alph in Johto. I used to go there all the time as a kid.”

“Can you understand what it says?” Michael asked.

“Some of it,” Portia said after examining the marks for a moment, “though it’s worn. Let’s see…it says something about the beginning of time, an egg, and a thousand,” she squinted at the wall, “a thousand something. Arms? Armies? I can’t tell.”

“It’s probably a thousand arms,” Kyle said, kneeling next to her. “I think it’s talking about Arceus, who formed the universe from nothing after hatching from an egg.”

“What are Sinnoh ruins doing here though? I mean, you guys are the only ones who really worship Arceus right?” Portia asked.

“For the most part, though there are a few sects in some parts of Johto. But we’re not in Johto, either.”

“Regardless,” Michael cut in, “we need to keep going. We still have a group of scientists to find. Amanda, Alex, you two stay here, keep watch.”

The two of them nodded, and the rest made their way further into the ruins, the uneasy stillness blanketing them as they went. The eyes were still there, following their every move and making Michael increasingly uneasy.

“There’s more here,” Portia said, walking over to a fallen stone covered in more of the Unown symbols, Haunter hovering over his shoulder.

“One made three, then three more. Then came,” Portia sighed and shook her head. “I can’t make out the last word.”

“Arceus made Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina,” Kris started, “then made Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf. After that it went on to create Sinnoh and Mt. Coronet.”

“I don’t think that’s what this means though. Look here,” Portia pointed towards the bottom of the stone. There was a rough carving, worn away with time. The wide, triangular head of a figure was all that was left, with two rounded ears and two large eyes.

“That’s—” Michael cut himself off. He recognized that figure, wore down as it was. He had seen Dr. Fuji’s research, the sketches and the pictures from similar ruins. Had they finally found Mew? After all this time? He looked at the three trainers with him. The Mew Project was supposed to be top secret—the only people other than Giovanni and Dr. Fuji who were supposed to know about it were the scientists working on it (mostly disgraced anyway, all sworn to secrecy and with nothing to lose) and Giovanni’s top executives (Michael included). If they had found Mew—

“Hey, over here!”

Michael startled from his thoughts, looking at where Kyle was kneeling on the stairs of a large building. He was holding a notebook, flipping through the pages.

“Let me see that,” Michael barked, holding out his hand for the book. Kyle handed it to him, and he immediately recognized the name scrawled across the front.

“One of our missing scientists?” Kris asked, looking over Michael’s shoulder.

“The head missing scientist,” Michael confirmed, “Dr. Valerie Ranson.”

Michael looked up at the building, frowning. It was easily three times the size of any of the surrounding buildings, and if he had to guess, it was also in the center of the city.

“This must be our temple,” he said.

“I can guess where we’re going then,” Kyle sighed, already starting up the steps.

“Wait,” Michael said, setting the journal back on the stairs and pulling Alakazam’s Poké Ball from his pocket. He pressed the button on the front and the Pokémon appeared in a flash of light.

“Alakazam, can you check and see if there’s anyone inside there?” Michael asked, pointing to the building. The psychic Pokémon stared at it, eyes glowing. After a few seconds the glow faded and he turned to look at Michael, shaking his head.

“Any traps or anything?”

Alakazam shook his head once more. Michael frowned, glaring at the building.

“Let’s go in, but go slowly. We don’t want to add more missing people to the list.”

They all nodded, Kyle continuing his climb up the stairs. He paused just outside of the doorway, turning and looking at Michael. Michael nodded, and Kyle stepped inside, pulling his Machamp’s Poké Ball from his pocket and clutching it tight to his chest. He disappeared from sight, and they all held their breath. After a minute he reappeared, his eyes wide.

“You’ve gotta see this,” he whispered.

CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5 - EPILOGUE

@pkmnbigbang

#pokemon #pokemon big bang #My writing #writers of tumblr #the cost of success

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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Jungle Moon Men

The title of this movie is a fucking trick. There are no moon men at all, just a tribe who worship a moon goddess who will die if she goes out in the sun, like the albino Sumerians from The Mole People. Deeply disappointing. It was produced by Sam Katzman, who made an enormous number of incredibly bad movies including Teen-Age Crime Wave, and features Myron Healey from The Incredible Melting Man. There’s also quite a lot of material that is very unfortunately reminiscent of Jungle Goddess. I already know I’m going to hate this movie, but I’m watching it anyway because I have a blog.

Our Hero, Johnny Weismuller, and his buddy Kimba the Chimp are hired by adventurous archaeologist Ellen Marsten to take her deep into the jungle, or at least the Spahn Ranch, on a quest for an ancient civilization who worshipped the sun god Ra. Instead, they find a tribe of little people who are ruled by a moon goddess called Oma, the last survivor of an ancient civilization who were swallowed by the Earth after Ra became angry that they’d discovered the secret of eternal life. Nobody is allowed to leave the lost city of Baku, but Johnny and Marsten have to get out somehow, or they’ll be fed to the sacred lions. Maybe they can take some of those diamonds from the temple with them when they go.

Not only are there no moon men in this movie, there’s not even any jungle. Most of the movie was shot in the open scrubland of Corriganville, California, without even an attempt to make it look jungle-ish. The people making the movie knew this, too, because all their animal stock footage is of the savannah. I think the ‘Jungle Trading Post’ building that appears in the background of one shot is actually a zoo gift shop. I can’t entirely blame the film-makers for this, since it’s clear that their budget did not remotely extend to going anywhere jungle-ish, but they didn’t even try. They couldn’t shoot in the woods? They couldn’t even hang a couple of vines?

There are definitely no black people in this movie, except for maybe some of the stock footage when you really can’t see anybody’s face well enough to tell. All the ‘Africans’ are played by white guys who aren’t even wearing any makeup. The Aribi people, whose chief Nolimo wants revenge on Oma for the death of his son Maro, are a bunch of guys in culturally insensitive costumes which, were it not for the leopard print, could have equally well allowed them to be background ‘Indians’ in some terrible budget Western. They even talk in the same forced broken English. The Moon Men are a bunch of short people in shitty Ewok cosplay.

There’s some Egyptian-type iconography in the city of Baku. A lot of it looks like the kind of thing you’d get if you asked a bunch of sixth-graders to paint something Egyptian without looking at any references. They weren’t even talented sixth-graders. Most of the ‘hieroglyphics’ are just squiggly lines, and everything Marsten says about ancient Egypt is transparently, infuriatingly wrong. She talks about a ‘white civilization’ that flourished there long ago, and how the Egyptians had lost wisdom that would tell us why there are different races and why there are tall people and short people. I’m truly shocked she never mentioned aliens.

The actual story is surprisingly engaging at points. Jungle Moon Men is not a long movie, only sixty-five minutes including the credits, but there’s quite a bit going on in it. Aribi chief Nolimo is seeking his revenge, although he gets entirely forgotten about for most of the movie because even fake black people aren’t allowed to do anything in these movies. An unscrupulous guy named Santo wants to steal the moon men’s diamonds. Marsten keeps finding ‘archaeology’ and spouting off ‘ancient legends.’ When it actually gets going, Jungle Moon Men steams along quite nicely and makes us want to know what happens next.

Yet the movie still manages to spend an awful lot of time dallying around doing nothing. There is, for example, the whole opening sequence – first a narrating voice drones on about the Law of the Jungle over a selection of animal stock footage in an attempt to establish that, despite all evidence to the contrary, this story is set in Africa. Then we get a useless sequence in which Kimba the Chimp is fishing, and Johnny swims down to tug on his line just to tease him. Kimba’s supposedly humourous antics fill up quite a bit of the movie, and they’re almost always irrelevant except at the climax, when he sneaks in and unties everybody before the Moon Men’s pet lions can eat them. He’s also badly-dubbed, with loud chimp noises playing over scenes in which Kimba’s mouth isn’t even open.

There’s an extended funeral sequence for Maro, which does nothing at all except show us a bunch of embarrassed extras in skeletal makeup bouncing in a circle. The worst thing in the movie, however, is the part where Marsten and her friend Prentiss go hunting with bows and arrows, ultimately killing two pigs and an out-of-place puma… and I’m not entirely sure but it looks like these three animals were actually killed, just for this movie! The scene establishes that they’re good shots but that wasn’t necessary because shooting things with arrows is never important to the plot. This movie killed three animals for no reason.

The Moon Men themselves, such as they are, are at once supposed to be threatening bad guys and objects of fun. Their mastery of poisons and accuracy with their blow darts makes them sinister enough, but their costumes are absurd and other scenes show them struggling to open the door to the lion cage, or the useless bit where one of them tries to steal a jeep but cannot control it and just drives it into a ditch. Sometimes the punch line is lol, they’re short! and sometimes it’s lol, they’re stupid primitives! and either way it’s obnoxious and offensive. The only joke that works is when they sneak into the tall people’s camp disguised as shrubs, which is funny mostly because of the better movies it reminds me of.

There is kind of a theme to the movie, though – it’s about where information comes from, and what biases people bring to it. First there’s the fate of Maro. In the mind of his father he was kidnapped and murdered, while the Moon Men say he was chosen by the goddess herself for the great honour of being Oma’s high priest, and had to be punished for his senseless betrayal. Marsten and Prentiss are friends but tell very different stories about how romantic that friendship might be. When Oma catches Santo and Johnny fighting, with stolen diamonds all around them, each blames the other until she gets tired of the whole thing and throws them both to the lions. Oma tells her guests that the Moon Men love her and serve her willingly, but after her death they celebrate because they are no longer slaves.

Oma herself is a pretty blonde woman, much like Greta from Jungle Goddess, but she really is some kind of immortal being who holds herself up as a goddess, rather than being a lost heiress whom the natives just assume was divine because she was paler than them. I guess that’s better… maybe… the movie still holds whiteness up as being nearer to godliness. She’s also fully dressed, though her white gown looks nothing like the Ewok costumes the Moon Men wear, and is never treated as a sex object. There is no implication that her high priest is expected to sleep with her, and neither Prentiss nor Johnny fall in love with her, or she with them. That’s definitely an improvement. There is, furthermore, one really nice moment when she demonstrates that she’s way more afraid of the sunshine than she is of the lions – the latter are just cats, while the former is the incarnation of a god who has sworn to punish her.

Ellen Marsten is never a sex object, either. She spends the whole movie fully clothed and is never in any peril that the men aren’t in with her. Everything she says is stupid but within the world of the film she’s clearly supposed to be an expert in her field. Prentiss is in love with her but respects her enough to remain friends despite the fact that she doesn’t return his feelings, and at the end of the movie Marsten herself is not ‘with’ either him or Johnny. She is a character, not a love interest, so that’s refreshing, too.

None of that’s enough to save the movie, though. It’s a cheap, shoddy, racist train wreck with a side of animal cruelty. It’s also a ripoff, having stolen a lot of its major plot points from H. Rider Haggard’s She. I could talk about that in more detail, but I haven’t actually read She, only seen other movies based on it, and I honestly don’t care. I don’t hate Jungle Moon Men as much as I did Jungle Goddess or Black Dragons, but it’s pretty damned bad.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #jungle moon men #boy are we in africa!#50s

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