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arcanadreams · 3 years

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Water Fights with the OM Bros

it’s 90 degrees outside at my place and you know what that means!!! water fight headcanons because I refuse to go outside in the heat in real life asdhgskjdgks

once again i’m only doing the brothers bc i do not trust myself with the dateables just yet lmao

Lucifer:

Literally only agrees to join because you’re so excited about it.

“...If it makes you happy, MC,” are his exact words. Simp.

You did agree to make the game have no points though, to keep things from getting competitive. Both at the advice of Lucifer and because you knew he would not join if there was any chance he could lose. (Also because Satan is a menace but we’ll get to that later.)

When all the brothers are gathered he suggests everyone pairs up into teams.

“You’re only saying that so you can cozy with M-” Asmo tries to say before being sprayed in the face with water.

“My hair!” “Oh, look at that. I suppose the game has started,” Lucifer hides his water gun behind his legs, but he can’t hide the shit eating grin on his face.

He takes your hand with a “Come along, MC,” and leads you away as everyone splits up.

You two make a surprisingly good team for this sort of thing! He knows the gardens well and also knows where each of his brothers is likely to go. You are quite skilled water water guns and balloons. He’s basically the brains and you’re the brawn.

He snatches a few kisses now and then when you look back at him excitedly after smacking one of his brothers with a balloon. You’re just so cute!

When everyone is all tuckered out and goes off to shower and whatever, Lucifer hangs back with you to thank you for organizing everything. With a kiss to the back of your hand, he says, “I’ll admit, I was...skeptical, at first. But, as usual, you brought my brothers together in a way I haven’t seen in a long while. Thank you, MC.”

Mammon:

“I’m MC’s first man, so I get to team with them!” “You’re also literally my boyfriend, but okay hun.” Cue Mammon blushing beet red at the nickname and muttering at you not to call him that in front of his brothers. (He doesn’t mean it; he loves that they know you’re his and vice versa.)

Strategically, the two of you are the absolute worst. But that’s because you’re both just there to have fun!

And have fun you do! You actually get in quite a few fun chases with Levi! He’s probably the most into the water fight out of everyone, the three of you are just running around the gardens pelting each other with balloons. It’s super cute.

Mammon is absolutely the type to yell “I’ll avenge you, MC!” every single time you get sprayed.

Eventually, you and Mammon follow Levi’s advice and start hiding in places to catch some of the other brothers by surprise. Which would be fine if Mammon didn’t blush super hard and start grumbling because of how close together you were when kneeling behind the garden wall.

You roll your eyes and surge forward to kiss him. He’s so shocked he has no idea what to do with his hands at first. But, after a second of pause, his water gun falls to the ground with a clatter and he wraps his arms around you.

“Get a room,” Is all the two of you hear before Belphie dumps a whole ass bucket of water on your heads. Mammon growls and jumps up to get the youngest before Beel can scoop him up, but you grab his hand and stop him.

You’re laughing super hard, and the sun is shining on your hair. You almost look like you have a halo...Mammon gives up the chase before it even starts because his MC is simply ethereal.

“Mammon!” You smile brilliantly at him when you finally stop laughing. “I kissed you to keep you quiet! And then you managed to make even more noise!”

He just hugs you then so you can’t see his blushing face. Stupid lovely human making fun of him. (He likes it, though.)

Leviathan:

This boy is literally the MOST excited when you tell him your idea. He was in on it from the very start.

He actually helped you get all the supplies! He opens his Akuzon account right away and starts showing you what water guns would be best and picking out huge packs of balloons made specifically for being water grenades. (Definitely had looked all this stuff up before in case he found a LARPing buddy.)

You ask him how much Grimm all this stuff will cost and he tells you not to worry. “I’ll cover it!” “But, Levi-” He interrupts you with big blush on his face.

“L-Listen MC. You’re m-my Henry! And I know this will be fun, s-so...I’ll cover it.” You leap forward and give him a hug, triggering a surprised but equally happy screech.

Honestly he is so excited you proposed an idea like that of your own volition. Like...it just makes him feel like all the games and stuff he finds fun truly don’t bother you. You haven’t been lying; you genuinely are interested in the same things as him. It makes him feel so warm.

When everyone is still arriving, you grab one of your water guns and do that cool spinny thing. You know the thing. The cowboy gun spin. You’re like, “Hey Levi! Check this out!”

BAM. Boy is OUT. So red his face is steaming. That’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his entire damn life. What the fuck, MC. He is basically frozen on the spot out of sheer overwhelmed-ness as how hot that was. You have to drag him away when the water fight starts. Totally worth staying up all night figuring out how to do the spin trick with a water gun.

Once the action gets going, you two are unstoppable. No one escapes the fight unscathed thanks to y’all. All those late night Call of Duty sessions trained you for this!!

Your favorite tactic is definitely camping, though. You and Levi would pick a spot and hide there, waiting for one of his brothers to come by, and then...ATTACK!

If it actually were a competition, you two would’ve won by a landslide. But honestly, Levi didn’t really keep track. He was having too much fun watching you. You were so mesmerizing when you were in the zone and so gorgeous when laughing as you gave him victory high fives after a successful ambush.

You let him take a picture of you posing all tough with your water gun and he makes it his DDD background immediately. And his lockscreen so you can protect his DDD from intruders.

Satan:

THIS ASSHOLE. THIS MAN IS THE REASON YOU MADE SURE THERE WAS NO COMPETITION.

If there was any sense of competition, Satan would’ve gone absolutely out of his mind to beat Lucifer. He would make sure to destroy that man’s dignity as thoroughly as possible.

So, for the sake of both him and the eldest brother, no points. No contest. He grumbles about it, but, much like said eldest brother, he still joins because he sees how happy the idea of a family water fight makes you.

Satan treats is almost as seriously as Levi does. EVEN THOUGH YOU MADE SURE IT WASN’T A COMPETITION, HE DAMN SURE STILL ACTS LIKE IT IS. UGH.

Literally pulls a map of the House of Lamentation’s gardens out of his back pocket??? And puts it on the side of the fountain?? And starts planning maneuvers on it with you??? He pulls a pen out of his SWIM TRUNK POCKETS to use to point with and emphasize his points. You just blink at him. This is your mans. Good lord.

Considering his expert knowledge of the layout of the entire surrounding area of HoL from that map, he actually knows of some secret passages the other brothers don’t even consider. He takes you to them so you can use them to spy on what Lucifer’s the other brothers’ strategies are.

It’s only once you’re creeping around the tunnels that he realizes something: none of his brothers know where you are. They can’t bother you...time to make out.

Grabs your attention with a quiet, “MC” and gives you a smooch. Soon enough he is backing you up against the wall. A water balloon you have tied to your belt pops against the rough brick, interrupting the two of you.

Satan disregards it and move to kiss you again, but you let out a gasp. He’s worried for you for a moment: did you scrape yourself? But when you turn to look at him, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye that he loves to see.

“My water broke!” You whisper-exclaim dramatically, covering your mouth in fake shock. Satan has to nuzzle his face in your neck to avoid laughing and filling the tunnel with the echo that would alert his brothers. The two of you basically just canoodle in the passages until the water fight is over LMAO

Asmodeus:

Pretty much just to show off how good he looks in a bathing suit to you and anyone else who happens to be lucky enough to witness his glory.

He’s not the best at water fights and ends up using you as a human shield sometimes adjgfkjshf

“Asmo! Stop hiding behind me!” “I am not letting Lucifer mess up my hair twice in one day, darling!”

He comments quite often on how hot you look. Both in your bathing suit and also when in the zone looking for victims to douse in watery fury. You look like an action hero, MC! Have you ever thought about becoming the next Bond? Asmo could definitely pull some hypnotic strings.~

Every time you successfully pull him out of the way of an oncoming water balloon or block a blast of water from hitting, he totally melts. He presses his back to your chest, swooning against you and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, MC, my hero! My dashing knight in shining armor!” You scoff, but think it’s super cute. You even play into it sometimes and pick him up bridal style.

“The king is looking for you, my prince,” you say once as you lift him, and he actually blushes. Asmodeus, avatar of lust, blushes at a silly pet name. He was not expecting you to get so into the role!!! He loves it, though.

For the rest of the water fight the two of you are basically roleplaying a royal and his knight bodyguard. It is stupidly fun and the both of you have an absolute blast.

“Oh, MC, my darling knight! I have amazing news!” Asmo says after the fight ends. You’re drying his hair off with a towel. “Yes, my liege?”

“In exchange for your wonderful and dutiful protection, you have been given permission by the crown to court me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He smiles and you throw your head back in a laugh. You lean down and give him a nice, long kiss on the lips before pulling away. “That is absolutely splendid, your highness.”

Beelzebub:

He loves the idea because it’ll get his whole family together and he knows it. He has to carry Belphie out there but that’s normal.

He helped you and Levi plan!! Excited boy. You filled him in when he joined you and Levi for a game night. He totally volunteered to go get some extra supplies from some nearby stores for y’all. So cute.

Once everyone is actually fighting, this boy WILL NOT STOP BEING A HUMAN (demon?) SHIELD FOR YOU. LIKE NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU TELL HIM IT’S FINE, YOU’RE FINE, HE WILL NOT STOP.

“Babycakes, it’s okay. It’s water. It can’t hurt me.” “But I love you. I want you safe.” O H. O K A Y.

Someone call a doctor Beel just shot MC through the heart!!! He’s so genuine you just bright red and kiss his cheek because he deserve it.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then, huh?” He gives you a big Beel smile and nods, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Y’all get sprayed with water A LOT because your hungry boy is very big and hard to hide. Er, I should say HE gets sprayed a lot because he is a fantastic meat shield and you’re practically dry by the time the fight is over. He, on the other hand, is soaked to the bone.

He still insists on drying you off with a towel, though. The two of you dry each other off back in the twins’ room while Belphie dozes nearby in his bed.

You’re in the middle of drying his shoulders when he just starts talking. “That was really fun, MC. I’m really grateful for you. Ever since you’ve been here, things are always more fun. And you bring all my brother together. Thank you.”

You damn near burst into tears!!! Ahhhh!!! You sniffle and jump into his nap, wrapping your arms around him. “But MC, I’m still wet.” “I don’t care!! I’m giving you snuggles!!”

Belphegor:

Literally does not give a single fuck about a water fight until he realizes it lets him throw shit at Lucifer with absolutely zero consequences. Then he is all in.

Beel doesn’t even have to carry him around during the fight! Once he is outside and realizes all the shenanigans he can pull, he is perfectly content to grab you by the hand and be the one dragging you around, for once!

You two will probably team up with Satan and Beel at various points. Beel because he’s Beel, and Satan because he and Belphie absolutely set water balloon filled booby traps for Lucifer.

That’s his preferred strategy: set up a trap and wait in the bushes, watching for the target to approach.

He’s definitely the type to yell “Every man for himself!” if someone catches you guys hiding. Unlike his twin, he lets you get totally soaked while he runs away laughing. Dickweed.

You guys have a lot of fun, though!! Seeing Belphie excited is always a treat for you. And, though he doesn’t say anything about it, Belphie also thinks it’s a treat whenever you scheme with him. You don’t join in on his mischief often, so he always cherishes the times you do.

Eventually, after soaking Lucifer thoroughly, Belphie eventually gets a bit tired. You, however, want to keep the fun going. So, just as he begins to dose off in your hiding spot...you spray him. Right in the face.

He opens his eyes and sees you raising an eyebrow at him challengingly, giggling to yourself. He growls playfully and grabs his own water gun, quickly giving chase as you bolt.

Being a demon, he’s much quicker than you. But he lets you think you can escape for a few minutes before catching up to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

As you squirm and laugh in his embrace, he feels thankful he joined in on the fight, even if he was hesitant at first. After all, it led to this moment, where he can turn you around in his arms and give you a nice kiss as you melt against his chest.

#ta da!! another idea i've had for the longest time #posts #my writing #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

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I’m On Fire [Chapter 1]

Summary: With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

A/N: This is the first part in a series, I’ve written the first few chapters already so I’m hoping to update pretty regularly! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: None really for this chapter, cursing? Mean-ish Spencer

Word Count: 6.5k

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

I wasn’t at the BAU long before it started to feel like home. The team became my family, pure and simple.

Having been recruited by Hotch at only 22 I'd sort of fallen into the roll of the little sister to the team without really meaning to. It's not that I was naive, or particularly sheltered even. I know I'm good at my job, and I'd want to be, given how my life's revolved around it almost entirely. But the team seemed to adopt a protective mindset over me right off the bat.

When I first joined the FBI everything was terrifying. I worked so hard for my PhD, trying to get into the unit, but there's almost nothing that can actually prepare you for the real thing. Being out in action in the field, working the cases out in real time. Sometimes they had a smooth, easy conclusion followed by loud obnoxious drinks together. Then there were the others, the ones that kept me up for days after and felt as though they owned little pieces of my heart still.

It was JJ that helped the most on those horrible flights back on the jet. Noticing my anxious ticks and uneasy disposition after that first case that had ended badly. JJ had been through it all before, taking too many cases home with her. Seeing her son's little faces in the kids that we couldn't help. If I was the baby of the team JJ was the big sister, looking out for everyone.

Morgan on the other hand was the outrageously cool older brother, the one you just wanted to be. Early on he'd helped my weak self with the ruthless fitness regimen the FBI required, he offered to pull some strings and get the test written off. But I couldn't accept that, there was something in me that just wanted to impress Morgan, and honestly still does. Like somehow if he thought you were cool, then it became true. So I passed the exam, but getting up a flight of stairs was near impossible for a week after.

Emily was probably the fun aunt. The one that would sneak you booze at the family gathering, or take you to your first concert. Emily was actually the one who'd found me, digging around colleges for potential recruits she'd had me picked out for a while I later found out. Insisting that Hotch give me a shot. It was reassuring to know I had someone who would stick up for me from day one.

I was an tech analyst, among other things, sort of a counterpart for Garcia in the field. So it was no surprise to anyone when the two of us hit it off as though we'd known each other forever. We weren't the same by any means though. Penelope was bold, and bright, and confident beyond measure, where I've typically felt like more of a blend into the background type. I've always thought of myself that way, despite my achievements. I'd also always believed I was fairly inoffensive, no one I'd met had ever had a huge problem with me, 'till I got to the BAU that is.

Every rose has its thorn I suppose.

That thorn in my side was Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn't that Dr. Reid was a bad agent, or even a bad person. I hadn't actually met him before that first day in the conference room, but I'd known who he was for a long time. Before I came along he'd held the mantle of 'youngest ever recruit' in the unit, while I was studying I'd read any of his work I could get my hands on because of that fact.

I figured it must've been some sort of hazing when he looked me up and down that first day I was introduced, and then proceeded to blank me entirely for a full week. Up until I'd wrapped my first case.

The whole team went straight from the jet to the bar. Proceeding to get far too drunk. Spencer joined, which the rest of the team found unusual, and I probably should've taken as a sign of things to come.

That case went well, and everyone was in high spirits but Reid had a sour disposition, at least it seemed that way every time he looked at me. After a few too many drinks I went outside in an attempt to sober up in the cold air, unfortunately Reid must've snuck outside not long before.

"Ugh" was all he said when he first caught my silhouette approaching him. The night was unusually cold so it had been deserted outside the bar that evening. I wasn't really sure why it made me nervous to be alone with him like this, the two of us leaning back against the same small area of brick wall, looking out at the cold night.

"Nice to see you too doctor" was all I could muster, I was drunk enough that I let my sarcastic tone leap out, "you can relax, I'm just trying to get some fresh air, it's too stuffy in there, and loud. I'm not here to talk to you or anything."

"Well aren't you a sensitive thing" he responds in kind, at that point I wasn't really sure if it was a coincidence or if he'd been genuinely avoiding me, but things were starting to clear up.

"I'm sensitive, that's a fun take on things" I joke, taking a long sip of cold water from my glass.

"And what's that supposed to mean, newbie?" his emphasis on the last word all but confirms my suspicions.

"Fuck man, what's your problem with me? Is it because I'm new, or because I beat your stupid record?" I quip. hoping that at the very least it might coax him out of his shell. Dr. Spencer Reid getting angry at me could honestly be better than the nothing I'd been experiencing from him until now.

"What stupid record?" he sounds genuinely confused

"I'm the youngest BAU recruit now?" I didn't know why else he could be so sour. He'd never met me before last week, and since he'd ignored me that first day I'd done all I could not to step on his toes. So if he had a reason to hate me this much, it wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

He takes a few moments to respond, raising his eyebrows and considering the information. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

"That's funny." he says, his voice leveling out, "I didn't peg you as funny newbie" that word sets something off in me again. Something about it is dismissive, or belittling. Before I could fight back he starts to move, maneuvering around me and heading back inside. A little too tipsy to think of anything constructive to say, I just mutter "Fuck you Spencer."

He swings open the door, as he walks inside he just says "See you Monday, Newbie" without even looking at me.

And that was only the beginning.

----

"You know I'm just trying to make sure you get enough rest sweetheart. There's no need to get so defensive!" it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this call. Since joining the BAU a few years ago this was a standard call from my Mom. Equal parts well meaning and over-bearing, and generally asking far too many questions.

"I'm not getting defensive Mom, I get plenty of rest, my job is just very important to me and you know that." I knew she was right to be at least a little worried, this job was consuming, and in all honesty I wasn't sure how people like JJ were married and still here. It seemed like an impossible feat.

"Fine sweetie, how are your co-workers doing then? How's Penelope? Give her my love" she loved Penelope, I think she thought that Penelope tethered me to the normal world, and in a way she was right. She kept me sane, and fun, and made me eat pizza and do face masks once a week at least. Even when I didn't think I wanted to.

"Pen's great Mom, everyone's good. Well, the usual ones get on my nerves, but I'm fine." As I say it I glance across at Dr. Reid, the only person who's also in as early as I am most days. I'm not sure if he can hear me but he's tapping his pen so loud on his desk that it takes all of my energy not to walk across the bullpen and stab him with it.

"Y'know what Mom, I'm actually just after getting to work and it's a busy day so can I call you back later?" I chance, getting her off the phone is always an ordeal.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you go. But wait one last thing!"

I knew what was coming. It was always coming.

"Are you seeing anyone, Margot's been wondering too, just thought I'd check in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to scream down the line, I just sigh out the frustration instead.

"No Mom, believe it or not, I've made no progress on that front since you asked me all of 3 days ago."

"See you are being defensive!" she snaps

"I gotta go, bye Mom. Love you!" I say, hanging up quickly before dropping my head down into my arms on my desk, resting like that for a few moments in silence.

Hearing Garica chuckle behind my ear I perk up and spin around. She's holding a small paper cup of coffee and hands it to me. I look at it confused, "Sorry about the paper, I couldn't find your mug in the cabinet" she apologizes, looking over at Dr. Reid and rolling her eyes. Now I know he can hear me from his seat, he takes that moment to sip from my mug and place it gently back on his desk.

It hadn't taken long for him to start toying with me. It was always stupid childish things. Things I couldn't get genuinely annoyed at, that would give him far too much satisfaction, knowing he was getting to me in any real way. This was one trick he liked to play if he got into the office before me, he'd take my mug and make his coffee in it, just to spite me I guess.

"Why does he even do that, it's so stale" she said, just a little louder than normal to make sure he could hear. Garcia and Reid were still good friends and team-mates but she liked to stand up for me when she could. He liked to avoid me as much as possible so he'd usually go to Garcia before me if he needed help with something. Even when the two of us were out in the field together. Which was obnoxious but it was just another thing I'd gotten used to over time. And as long as it didn’t interfere with the case I just forced myself to let it go.

"I know it's such low grade bullying isn't it?" I shot back with a chuckle.

"So I'll take it that was Mommy dearest" Penelope gestures to my phone. She knew my Mom, and she knew about her general overbearing energy. I let out a groan thinking about the call again, and the calls that were to come.

"Isn't it always Mommy dearest?" I joke

"So she's still on your ass about the wedding then?" I'm sure Penelope was almost as sick of hearing about it as I was,

"Margot's getting married in like 4 months now, and every time Mom calls there’s just some new hometown loser she wants to set me up with Pen. It's fucking exhausting" I take a sip of the coffee she made me, savoring the bitter taste. She sits down on my desk for a moment, leaning in.

"Honey, did you ever think that if you got out there and found someone, she wouldn't be on your ass at all?" I don't want to think about that, about how she's completely right. All I can do is let out another small groan and lean back down onto my desk.

"Too early Pen" I say, it's muffled by the desk but she gets the message. Hopping up and heading to her own office as some more people start to arrive for the morning.

Leaving me alone to make a start on my paperwork that had built up throughout the week. Fridays were usually slow like this, giving me a little too much time to think. I couldn't shake the thought that my Mom and Penelope were actually right. Maybe I was a bit too invested in the job, and maybe that was a pretty big factor in why my last relationship imploded but I wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

----

After that the day crawls by, thankfully no cases pop up so the weekend might actually be free. Trying to make sure I clear up all of my paperwork takes a little longer than I'd hoped and leaves me alone in the bullpen. It seems like everyone's gone home by the time I've packed up and I'm ready to leave. Which wasn't as out of the ordinary as I'd like it to be really. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere to be on a Friday night.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive my phone started to ring, I could see my Mom's caller ID on the screen. If I just let it go I know she'll call back later, may as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath in anticipation before I answer.

"Hey what's up?" I answer, stepping inside the elevator as the doors ping open.

"Hi sweetie, I've got good news! Do you remember David? That lovely boy, he helped out your Father that summer in high school?" I know what's coming and rub my temple, trying to stifle the headache I know is coming. As I answer a hand slides between the elevator doors, popping them open again.

Dr. Fucking Reid walks in, and he looks about as happy to see me as I am to see him. I make eye contact and look away just as fast, willing him away with my mind. "Yes Mom, I remember him, why are you telling me this?" I already know the answer but I'm fed up, she still sounds excited when she responds.

"Well you won't believe it! I ran into him at the market this morning and I thought you'd like it if I passed on your phone number to him, maybe for the weddi-" it took all I had not to shout into the receiver, and maybe I would've had the elevator been empty.

"Mom! Jesus!" I have to reign myself in, but I have a bad idea, "You know what, I'm actually sorted. I've got a date lined up now" I'm not sure why I said it with no real plan in place. She sounds even more excited than I've ever heard her.

"Oh my, that's amazing sweetie! That was fast, I can't believe you found one since this morning, it's someone from work so?" she assumes, and I'm just not thinking fast enough to correct her.

"Mmhmm, yeah" I'll figure out the logistics later I rationalize.

"Oh! Is it that boy you're always on about, the one who teases you?" she asks, and her voice is full of joy, and it makes me feel horrible that I'm lying already, and that I'm going to let her down.

"Yup, that's the one, look Mom I gotta go, I'll talk to you later! Night" I blurt out so fast it has to be obvious I'm nervous.

I can hear a stifled chuckle behind me. Fuck. How loud is my phone speaker. Could he hear that. Surely not. But this elevator was completely silent. The doors open and I have to stop myself from running to my car at top speed. Instead I walk out just a little faster than normal, turning around to shoot him a small wave goodbye. And he's got this devious smirk on his face that makes my stomach turn.

Sitting into my car I pull out my phone to text Garcia immediately.

I'm on my way to yours right now. It's urgent.

——

Traffic's light so it takes maybe 10 minutes before I arrive at Garcia's place. My mind's racing and my body takes me there on autopilot. Why did I say any of that, why did I even answer the damn phone. Why did I wave goodbye to Spencer, I never usually did that. Maybe that's why he had that look on his face. Maybe he was just thinking of something funny that happened earlier and it had nothing to do with me at all. That was something he'd do to mess with me for sure.

How was I going to walk this back with my Mom, she was just gonna have more questions that I couldn't answer. Fuck.

Garcia buzzed me up and her door was open for me by the time I got up the stairs. This little purple apartment had become my second home. It was where I spent most of my evenings off, laughing on the same sofa I was collapsing face first into right now. Garcia nestles in beside me and runs her hand over my hair, "Hey sweet pea, what's happening? I don't want to sound too concerned but you're not giving me much to go off? Are you dying, is there drama? You're going to have to tell me what's so urgent before I burst a blood vessel?"

I let out a muffled, "is drahmuh" into the pillow, Garcia shakes my shoulders.

"Sit up babe, damn!" I have to heave myself out of the pillows, sitting upright on the sofa beside her, clutching one of the pillows in my arms.

"It's drama" I repeat,

"Well, out with it then, you know I'll take all the drama I can get! Spill, spill" she rushes me along. I'm already apprehensive, Reid's her coworker too, but if anyone would understand why this was such an issue it was gonna be her.

"Okay, I'm after doing something stupid and I think I really need your advice" I cringe already, thinking back to the elevator, throwing out my words faster, I continue the story, mostly trying to get it over with, "my Mom called again when I was on the way out tonight and she was trying to set me up with this guy, and Reid was there, and I got all flustered, and I told her I had a date already" I throw my head down into the pillow again.

"Wait why was Reid there?" she looks like she's trying to fit puzzle pieces together and she's getting nowhere, "And what's the drama?"

"Shit Garcia, it was in the elevator and it was all quiet, and maybe he heard the call, maybe he didn't but he had this fuckin' look on his stupid face" I can't shake the smug little smirk, it's burned inside my eyelids. Garcia's face falls in what looks like disappointment.

"Ugh Y/N! That's nothing chill out, why does it matter if he heard your call? I know you guys are all weird but none of that is any of his business anyway!" she shoo's her hand in the air, dismissing the whole situation.

"No Garcia, it is his business now" I have to close my eyes when I say it, I can't look at her "I told my Mom that he was my date, well, I didn't say his name or anything, she assumed it was someone from work and so I just agreed, and then she suggested that it was him and then I fucking panicked Pen, I fucked up so bad. What do I do?"

I finally opened my eyes to look up at Garcia. She was sitting in pure silence, pursing her lips in what seemed like contemplation. The puzzle pieces finally slotting together. It's as though a light bulb goes off behind her eyes and she bursts out in fits of laughter. Doubling over on herself before finally taking a few breaths to calm herself down. I'm honestly not sure why she finds the whole thing so funny, she know's how needlessly annoying he's made my life, she's seen it first hand and heard me talk about it over and over again in this very apartment over pizza.

"Garcia, this is not fucking funny! This is serious!" I try to calm her down, I need advice not whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I love you dearly. But this isn't funny, this is hilarious. It's like you're Sandra Bullock in some mid-90's rom com. I love it" I don't love it, in fact I hate it. I nearly snap at her but pull myself back.

"Pen, come on, help me out. What do I do with this, how do I fix it?" I plead.

She stops laughing and pulls out her phone, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm going to order us a pizza, and we're gonna sort this thing out together, sound good?" I just nod and collapse back into the sofa. I think I feel better now that I've gotten it out in the open.

----

Penelope makes us tea while we wait for the pizza, she keeps lemon & ginger in her cabinet for me, just like I keep mint for her. The warm mug and the steam calm me down. After a few minutes alone to think about it I start to figure it out a little better. I figure I can just lie to my Mom for a while, it might suck but I can pretend for a bit and then make up some excuse as to why he can't come closer to the time. Then I can just bring Garcia instead and everyone's happy. I'm about to float my plan to her there's a knock on her door. I was so caught up that I hadn't really noticed quite how starving I'd gotten. Leaping up of the sofa to grab the door.

I swing it open but it's not the pizza guy. Somehow it's the opposite of the pizza guy, my worst nightmare is on the other side of the door. He must notice my eyes blow completely wide. "Y/N!" he says, more of a statement than a question really, like he's telling himself that he's actually seeing me in the doorway. I'm not as gentle.

"What the fuck are you doing here Reid?!" I can't even disguise my anger. He seems a little flustered, like he's got absolutely no idea how to proceed.

"Um, uh, is Garcia here? I can, um, I can just come back later?" he swallows hard and shakes his head, before I can agree and tell him to get lost Penelope races to the door, pulling it wide open.

"Nope, that won't be necessary Doctor! Come on in, you're right on time sweetheart" she waves him in and he walks past me, his demeanor changing almost instantly. He's smug, like he's won whatever battle this was. And I hate it. Though he's still as confused as me despite the newfound attitude. Reid sits down on the sofa, right where I had been sitting. I bite my tongue and sit on the opposite end.

"Are you okay Garcia?" he asks with a genuine concern, "What's going on, what was the emergency?". He's not stupid, he knows she's not in danger now that he's here. But he wants answers. I don't know that I've ever seen him this confrontational with anyone, well anyone but me. The entire time I’m staring her down as she sits in the armchair opposite the two of us. My keys are in my pocket and my car's right outside. I could just jump up and make a break for it. Escape.

"You know what Doc, you won't believe it but I'm not actually the one with the emergency" she takes a beat, and I'm starting to think that I might understand why people murder other people after all these years, "Y/N has something urgent she needs to talk to you about" she's silent for another moment, and she almost looks giddy, "Actually Spencer, you might already know a little something about the matter already, now that I think about it" she smirks, and it's pure joy.

My keys are in my hand ready to bolt when the doorbell chimes again. "Oh, that'll actually be the pizza this time, if you two will excuse me" she hops up out of the armchair and races to the door, leaving the two of us alone in a horrible silence. The tension is almost too much, I want to speak but I really have no idea what to say, or how to even start saying it. But he starts.

"Y/N what's going on, I feel like I'm out of the loop here? What am I missing?" he asks, and there's something uncharacteristically genuine about the way he says it, but he can't turn to look at me as he speaks. I almost want to let my guard down and just have a conversation but I can’t force myself to do it. "Shut up Reid." is all I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

He turns sharply on the sofa to face me. "Hey Y/N. Believe it or not I'm about as happy as you with whatever kind of Parent Trap situation Garcia's got going on here. But from what I'm picking up on you've got a problem and I'm supposed to be able to help with it. So do you want to tell me what's going on or not? I can just go?" I can see that there's an anger bubbling right below the surface, threatening to burst. I know I shouldn't but I let him stew in silence for a little too long and he jumps up off the sofa.

"Y'know what, typical" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it, "this is all about you." he throws his bag over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the door. Something in me just snaps.

"All about me?! Are you fucking kidding? I've been tip-toeing around you for years, ever since I joined this damn unit!" I shout as Garcia comes back into the room, pizza box and plates in her hands.

"So, who's hungry?" Garcia asks, trying to break the tension, or pretending there's no tension at all. Reid shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his temple before he speaks again, "Actually I was just gonna head out" he gestures to the door, "I'm clearly not wanted here so I'm gonna leave you guys to it." Spencer makes a move to leave but Garcia grabs the strap of his shoulder bag, yanking him back ever so slightly before he really has the chance to escape.

"You are going absolutely nowhere kid" She points back to the sofa, "get back there" she glances to me, staring with far too much intensity. "You too, sit." Her voice is more stern than I've ever heard it, even while we were on a case. I can't help but obey her command and I sit back down on the sofa in silence. Followed by Reid, clearly processing the same uneasy feeling of a serious Penelope.

She sits opposite the two of us again. "Y/N, Spencer, I love the two of you with all of my heart, albeit separately, and I would die for either one of you. But you've got to chill the hell out!" she says it like she's had it bottled up forever. The tension that releases from her as she says it looks euphoric.

She opens up the pizza box and lays it on the coffee table and takes out a slice for herself. Taking a bite she leaves the two of us in stunned silence. Once she finishes the mouthful she turns to me specifically, "Y/N you tell him, or I will." dead serious. And the feeling in my belly is like I've just fallen down an elevator shaft.

My stomach is in knots as I turn to Spencer on the sofa next to me. His face is puzzled and I think I might be able to make out pure terror in his expression. I don't know that I've ever been looked at like this before and my stomach screws up tighter. I have to take a deep breath and I can't believe I'm about to say it. "Fuck it" I have to take another breath almost immediately so I just have to force the rest out, "I don't know if you heard the call I was on while we were in the elevator earlier?" I look up to gauge his reaction and I can see his face relax, and worse than that, one corner of his mouth lifts into a sort of smile. It's a look of pure smug satisfaction and I think I might scream. I have to close my eyes because I really don't think I can look at that face as I say the next part.

"My sister is getting married in a few months and my Mom's been on my ass to find a date for the wedding and she keeps trying to set me up with these losers, so I fucking panicked, and I told her you were my date." by the time the sentence is out my eyes have screwed up so tight it feels like I have to pry them open.

He sits in silence for too long. Thinking, maybe?

"So I'm the boy who teases you then?" he grins. So he did hear. And he did laugh. He looks far too self satisfied. Now he knows he's right. He knows I've talked to my Mom about him, that he's gotten in my head. I can tell from his smile that he's savoring the moment. Mostly because I can't slap the smug smile off his face I drop my head into my hands. In an effort to disappear I guess.

"So," he says, taking a moment, "is that all you wanted to say then?" he asks, lighthearted and obnoxious, back to his usual self. I snap back to reality, shooting my head back up.

"What do you mean is that all?" I throw back genuinely shocked,

"Is that all you had to say Y/N? Can I go now? It's a long bus ride home y'know" he smirks but makes no effort to move. He can't possibly be making me do this.

"Well no, obviously!" I stutter, "I mean, are you, will you, uh?" I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He leans in on the sofa looking directly at me, refusing to break eye contact.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me Y/N?" I just want to smack that fucking look off his face,

"Fuck you Spencer Reid" I almost whisper under my breath, but Garcia snaps me back to reality.

"Hey!" she looks at me, stern again, "Ask him." it's not a question, or a suggestion, it's a command.

"Fine okay" I scrunch my eyes up again, "Will you come to my sisters wedding with me as my fake boyfriend?" I curl up into myself as I say it, I can almost feel the bile rising up from my stomach. Like I'm having a biological reaction to the whole thing.

Reid crosses his arms and sinks back on the sofa, like he's performing the act of thinking. He's considering my offer to make me squirm.

When he finally speaks he says "Well I would Y/N, but I really fail to see what's in it for me" he's after getting cocky now.

Garcia pipes up, excited, "Oh, Oh! I know! I have an idea!" she interjects, "Spencer remember how a while ago, back after your apartment flooded you were all all worried about your antique books and prints and stuff?" he nods, "Well Y/N could digitize the collection for you as a back up? I know you're a technophobe? C'mon Y/N, you know you could do that no sweat, and it would take you a lifetime alone Spencer?" I really don't want to admit it but she's right. Even I knew Reid was adverse to any technology that wasn't vital, but it was your specialty. And maybe that was a good trade off, a job like that would be near impossible for him to pull off without help. I take a glance over at Reid and he seems to have had the same train of thought as me. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and relaxes his posture.

"Fine, I guess that's a fair trade. I'm in." he resigns and I almost can't believe it. I'm barely processing the whole conversation as he sticks his hand out to me, I'm confused for a second before I grab it and shake it firmly. Condemning myself to whatever's about to happen. And it's not the time to be thinking about it but maybe this is the first time Spencer and I have ever touched? But I shove that thought away.

Garcia's positively beaming and she's not even trying to hide it. "Now it's like you're both in a Sandra Bullock movie, oh, but you're Hugh Grant maybe?" she points to Reid.

"Don't push it" I shoot in her direction, taking a slice of pizza, now that my anxiety stomach has sort of passed.

Once the pizza's been eaten in near completely awkward silence Spencer stands up off the sofa. His unsure demeanor has returned and he looks nervous. "I actually should get going this time" he says but Garcia pipes up to protest,

"No, it's not even late!"

"It takes me a while to get back home, thank you though Pen. For... this?" he gestures to the whole living room, "Night" he waves. He's almost made it to the door before I stand up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what comes over me, maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's guilt, or maybe I'm just exhausted.

"Wait Spencer. Let me give you a ride home?" I ask and it's like it's not even me saying it .

"Thanks, but I think I can make it home just fine" he dismisses, and there’s an antagonizing tone in his voice that snaps me right back to our usual rapport.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, fuck! Just let me do something nice!" I snap, and he throws his arms up in surrender.

"Fine alright, if it'll make you feel better"

"Fuck you Reid" I mutter under my breath and I sort of hope that he does hear me really. If he's gonna be hostile about this I can be too. I give Garcia a hug goodbye but I'm going to scold her for this whole thing later.

----

I lead the way outside and climb into my car, Spencer hops into the passenger seat and it feels as strange as always to be alone with him. Especially because it's not an accident, and it's not in work. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He seems like he's unwilling to break the silence, so I just get it over with.

"Where the hell do you live man? I'm gonna need directions." I say, as deadpan as I can muster, which probably isn't all that intimidating.

"Sorry, yeah, so you're gonna want to turn on the ignition" he teases. I definitely wasn't intimidating enough.

"Don't push it" I say, turning to give him a cruel stare, he just reacts with a smirk, that same one from the elevator earlier.

"Oh, I'm pushing it?" he asks, feigning disbelief

"I'll kick you out of this damn car" is all I can think to say. He barely responds, he just lets out a soft chuckle. I want to ask 'what's so funny' but he speaks before I can get the words out.

"I can't believe you talk to your Mom about me" he continues to laugh. That's enough.

"You know what Reid, of course I have! I work with actual murderers on a daily basis and somehow you've been the only real source of friction in my life since I joined the BAU!" He stops giggling a little, but not entirely, he looks like he's making an effort to contain himself.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never knew I got to you like that" he still finds the whole thing amusing, but I sure as hell don't.

"Directions, now" I demand, looking straight out the front windshield.

"Fine, keep going straight on this road for a while and I'll tell you when to turn" he says, finally playing nice.

The two of us drive silently for most of the journey, the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually we arrive outside his building, and it's nicer than I thought it would be. But I have no idea what I was really basing that on. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that Dr. Reid lived in an actual home, I had pictured him sleeping upside down in a cave maybe, or in a cryogenic chamber with all the other life-like genius robots.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "When is this wedding?"

"4 months from now, in and around" I respond, matter of factly. Spencer nods, taking it in.

"Alright, so I've got 4 months, in and around, to learn enough to convincingly pass as your loving boyfriend. Doesn't sound so difficult." he jokes, his tone harsh and sarcastic.

"Look Spencer, I know this is insane and honestly kind of stupid. But in all seriousness, you can back out right now if you're not on board with whatever this is. I'm telling you this is the last exit ramp." I try to say it with sincerity, giving him a genuine out if he's not comfortable with the weird set-up that Penelope pulled on us both. He thinks on it for a moment and shakes his head.

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asks, and I really thought he was going to back out. So I don't have an actual answer.

"Well, I uh, I haven't really given a plan much thought. How about I come over and start working on some of the stuff you want digitized like Garcia mentioned and I can use the time to give you the footnotes on my life?" I suggest, at least that would make it easier to knock things out all at once. Rather than having to spend even more of my free time with Reid than necessary. He looks content with the improvised plan.

"Alright, sounds good." he undoes his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out of the car before turning back to me, "Are you coming inside or what?"

— —

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I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 3

Word count: 4.2K

Part 1

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Part 5

He looks like the perfect mix of Adam and me. But ever since he started growing his blonde hair out, he’s started to look more like Adam. Sometimes when Holden isn’t acting like a grown up and he allows me to cuddle with him and run my hand through his hair, it brings me back to the times I’ve done the same thing with Adam.

I can’t help but feel flashes of guilt in those moments. He’s shown no interest in his father, but I feel the urge to tell him about him. I don’t want him to get hurt by never having a relationship with his father, but I also don’t want to push him to have a relationship with his father just to get hurt. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Now is one of those rare times when he lets me hold him like I did when he was a baby. I convinced him to watch a movie with me, one of those cheesy Pixar films that I know that he loves. He looks up at me from between my arms, staring up at me with eyes that match my mother’s.

When he was born and opened his eyes for the first time, I was secretly relieved that his eyes didn’t match Adam’s. I just knew it would hurt to have to see a mini-Adam every day. But Holden’s eyes being the same as my mother’s hurt just slightly less than it would if they looked like Adam’s, considering I haven’t talked to my mother in over a decade after a rough childhood. It’s part of the reason that when I decided to keep Holden, I knew I had to go all in and do everything I could to provide for him and give him the best life possible.

“Mom, where did you live before you moved to Colorado?” He questions. Even though he’s lived in Philadelphia most of his life, he’s seen the photos of his toddler self cradled in my arms, the Rocky Mountains decorating the background.

“Chicago,” I answer.

“And why did you move from Chicago?”

My chest tightens at the question, but I shrug nonchalantly. I can’t just say hey kid, I was trying to escape your father. Then he would have more questions and I would put a preconceived idea of his father in his head before he even met him.

“I needed a change in scenery,” I decide on instead. It’s the truth, I did choose to go to Colorado over other states because Alex and Dylan used to show me photos of how beautiful it is.

“And what did you do in Chicago?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” I laugh.

“I’m trying to get to know you,” Holden responds.

“I’m your mother, how are you trying to get to know me?” I tickle him, causing him to giggle. “I worked for the Chicago Blackhawks as a suites advisor.”

“The hockey team?” He furrows his eyebrows. I nod. “Whoa, that’s cool. How the hell did you get that job?”

“Language,” I warn him. “I did an internship with them my senior year of college and got the job offered to me when I graduated.”

“Oh,” he yawns, snuggling closer to me. “That’s sick, mom.”

I laugh, kissing the top of his head. “Yes, it is sick.”

I pour the mixed eggs into the pan, waiting for them to sizzle. A wave of nausea suddenly hits me, and I grab onto the edge of the counter, trying to balance myself and swallow the bile that threatens to come up my throat.

I take deep breaths through my nose but that only makes it worse as I smell the scrambled eggs over and over again. I move the pan off of the stove and quickly turn it off, rushing out through the front door to take in gulps of fresh air.

Unfortunately, as soon as I open my mouth, everything that I ate last night comes up.

“Are you okay, honey?” A tender voice calls out.

I look over to see my neighbors, a kind elderly couple, staring at me with concern from their front stoop.

“I’m fine,” I choke out, trying to hide my red cheeks behind my hair. “Probably just the stomach bug that’s been going around.”

They nod, obviously not believing the answer but deciding not to push it. I ignore the little voice in my head telling me that the last time I was this sensitive to the smell of scrambled eggs, an embryo was growing in me.

I enter the house again, seeing Holden planted on the couch in front of the TV. He watches with a questioning expression as I dump the eggs into the trashcan, practically throwing the dirty pan into the sink.

I turn to my son. “New plan, we’re having cereal for breakfast.”

“Holden!” I throw his bedroom door open in excitement, totally forgetting our golden rule of privacy.

“Mom,” he exclaims in shock, turning his phone off and flipping it over so the screen is face down on his desk. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“Sorry,” I apologize, knowing better. He’s getting to the age of porn and masturbation and that is the last thing that I want to walk in on- having the birds and the bees talk with him was hard enough.

When I found out that I was having a boy and not a girl, that was one thing that I was not looking forward to. And it was just as bad as I thought it was going to be…

“What are you doing home this early?” He glances at the clock.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I wanted to tell you!” I grin wildly, remembering the reason that I rushed into his bedroom in the first place. “I slept in this morning, like I totally missed my alarm and even when I woke up after ten hours of sleep, I was still exhausted. Anyways, I called work and they told me that it was slow, so I decided to take the whole day off and then I went back to sleep for four hours. When I woke up I went to Target to get some groceries but they have that Starbucks inside and I’ve been meaning to try two different drinks lately and I just decided to try them both and-“”Now you’re completely energized,” he gives me a look of amusement. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” I initiate, “We can go to that cute new restaurant downtown that I meant to try with Winston.”

“Sure, mom,” he rolls his eyes but slowly rises from his bed.

“Oh, and just remember, real sex is never like porn,” I tell him before closing his door behind me.

I can still hear his whine of, “Mom!”

“I think I’m going to try the chicken alfredo,” I announce, closing the menu with my order picked out.

“You always get that,” Holden points out.

“And? It’s always good. If it’s not broken, don’t fix it,” I shrug, taking a sip from my cup of Pepsi.

I take a moment to look at my new surroundings. This is the type of restaurant that Winston would love. He loves restaurants that have the brick interior- he always used to say that restaurants that looked like this had the best food.

Maybe I made a mistake breaking up with him. I mean, all he was asking was for me to be honest with him about my feelings. He was trying to do was build a future with me and Holden. Plus, Holden liked him. He’s getting to that age where he might not like all of my boyfriends, shouldn’t I hold onto one that he does like?

“So,” Holden coughs, causing my eyes to snap back to him. He looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say or ask what he’s about to ask. “I have to do a project for school on my parents’ lineage. I know all of your stuff, but what about my dad’s?”

I pause, my eyes laser focused on the boy sitting in front of me. He needs to know. But is he asking because he wants to know or because of this school project? Will this school project lead to more questions about his father? I obviously have to tell him the truth, but I wish I would have prepared myself more for this. I could’ve given myself a pep talk in the mirror before having to tell Holden all about his father.

It’s my turn to cough awkwardly. “He’s one hundred percent Swedish.”

“Swedish,” he repeats, nodding. “Okay.”

I freeze. Is that really all he wanted to know? “Do you want a name or something?”

“No,” he shakes his head, drinking from his cup now. “I’m good.”

I nod silently, not knowing what else to say. If he doesn’t want to learn more about his dad, I’m not going to force him. I just hope this project doesn’t bring out some feelings of resentment towards his father or me.

I shift on my feet, trying to sooth the searing pain without actually taking my shoes off to give myself a foot massage. But boy, what I would do for a good foot massage right now.

Lia and Rachel giggle to each other and I smile at them fondly, remembering when I was their age and working to be able to my college tuition.

“Lia, I ordered you two more shirts,” I inform the young girl, leaning against the counter to ease the pressure on my feet.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she flashes me a smile. “Hey, what time does the new girl start work today?”

I give her a confused expression. “What new girl?”

“Didn’t Tiffany say anything to you?” Now her expression morphs into one of confusion. “She popped in a couple of days ago and said that she hired another employee and that she was going to start Tuesday, today.”

I fight back the scowl that begs to come out and bite back the nasty words I want to say about the owner. She’s been a shitty owner for as long as I’ve worked here, and this is a good example. A new employee starts today and she’s nowhere in sight.

“She must’ve forgotten to mention it to me,” I settle on saying. I make small talk with the two, catching up on their studies and what they’re doing in their free time. I like to hear about their time in college, it reminds me of all of the all-nighters I used to pull and the times I would leave fraternity houses completely obliterated. Of course, I’m not gonna tell these girls that.

A small girl, younger than Lia and Rachel, appears in front of the counter with a shy look on her face. I recognize the expression as one that the two girls had on their first day here, so I give her a big smile and ask, “Hi! Are you the new employee?”

“Yeah, my name is Marcella,” she introduces herself. I introduce myself to her and usher her behind the counter, giving her an apron with a new nametag on it and show her a couple of things on the machines.

“But I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first day, so you can just observe us today and try it tomorrow, okay?” I request. She nods, a relieved smile on her face. “I’m going to go to the back and grab you some extra shirts that we have until we can order some for you.”

As I shuffle through the boxes in the back, trying to find some that would fit the small girl, I can hear the three talking in the front of the café.

“Is she the owner?” Marcella asks in a hushed tone.

“No, she’s the supervisor, but she might as well be the owner because she does everything the owner should be doing,” Rachel responds. I smile at her answer, glad that someone is seeing the hard work that I put in around here.

“Is she, like, chill?” Marcella questions.

“Oh, she’s very chill. Like you can be on your phone, she doesn’t care, she’s on her phone all of the time too,” Lia says.

“But she’s on her phone because she has a kid,” Rachel points out, “You’re on your phone because you’re Snapchatting the boy that you’ve been talking to for the past four months.”

The three girls giggle with each other as I emerge from the back, two shirts in my hand. My eyes immediately take in Marcella, who’s phone is grasped in her hand now.

That’s not what catches my attention. What catches my attention is her phone case. Tommy Hawk stares back at me with a “miss me?” look on his stupid bird face.

“You a Blackhawks fan?” I try to keep my tone casual as I set the shirts down on the counter next to her, turning to occupy my hands with a spray bottle and a rag.

“Yeah, are you?” She inquires.

I swallow the lump in my throat that appears with the question. Act cool, act casual. She doesn’t know anything about your past, none of the girls do. “No, not really a hockey fan. Just used to live in Chicago and would see the logo everywhere.”

It’s not a lie.

“It is everywhere,” she giggles.

“Well, now you’re going to have to be a Flyers fan,” I give her a smile, hoping she doesn’t see through it to my anxiety.

And when Lia begins to talk about how the guy she’s been talking to is a big Flyers fan, I feel relief flood through my body that I’ve made it through this conversation and into the clear.

I’ve been avoiding this for two weeks now. I can’t even remember when Adam and I had sex, but I remember the symptoms from eleven years ago. Swollen feet. Sensitive breasts. Aversions to certain foods- like scrambled eggs. God, I feel like throwing up just at the thought.

But I can’t avoid it forever. I need something to confirm or deny my beliefs. And now, instead of sitting on the shitty toilet in my loft in Chicago, I’m sitting on the toilet that actually works in my condo in Philadelphia.

Time has gone by, but I somehow find myself in this situation yet again. Instead of two tests balancing on the edge of the sink basin, there’s three tests sitting on paper towel on the counter.

I feel less nervous this time than I was when I found out that I was pregnant with Holden. I mean, now I know that I’m a good mom, I’m a good mom to Holden. Sure, I’m not in the best place financially still, but I could find a way to make it work- I did the first time around.

But before I make all of these decisions, I need to find out if I’m even pregnant first.

My phone alarm goes off and I quickly turn it off, taking a deep breath. The nerves start to set in, and I bite my lip in fear.

No matter what happens, I’ll figure it out.

I rise with shaky legs, turning to stand in front of the counter, my eyes meeting the mirror. Slowly, they move down to the three electronic tests.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. I run a hand through my hair, lifting my gaze to stare at myself in the mirror. I’m going to be a mom again. I haven’t been a mom to a newborn in twelve years, will I even remember what it’s like to change poppy diapers and make a bottle? I’m older now- not that old- but still, will I want to wake up several times throughout the night to feed an infant?

I mean, at least in Colorado I had a steady boyfriend who willingly shared those shifts with me. Now it’d be me by myself. I’m sure I could get Holden to pitch in every once in a while- shit, Holden.

How the hell am I supposed to tell my twelve-year-old son that I’m knocked up? It’s embarrassing enough to be in middle school, but to have your mom be pregnant will make it all the more humiliating. And the age gap is going to be thirteen years, they’ll have nothing in common with each other. What the hell am I supposed to tell him when he asks me who the father is?

Guess what, kiddo? You two have the same biological father! “Mom,” the kid in question calls out from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Uh, just a minute, buddy,” I stutter, quickly shoving the tests into one of the cabinet drawers, burying it under some pads. He doesn’t go in my master bathroom in the first place, but if he did, I wouldn’t want him to find out about the pregnancy before I could tell him myself.

I throw the paper towel into the trash can and open the door breathlessly, the blonde on the other side of the door giving me a questioning look.

“Uh, you okay, mom?”

“I’m fine,” I answer, exiting the bathroom and plopping down on my bed, patting the spot next to me for him to take a seat. He does. “What’s up?”

“I want to ask you something,” he begins, picking at his overgrown fingernails. It’s his nervous habit, I’ve picked up on it over the past twelve years but haven’t said anything about it. I don’t want him to know that I realize it because then he can hide his emotions from me.

“Okay,” I nod encouraging.

“There’s this programming camp this summer, in Chicago, that I’d like to go to,” he stutters through.

My heart races at the thought of my baby boy in Chicago by himself. He’s grown up a lot in the past couples of months and I know that he’ll grow in the time that he has before he goes to the camp, but I can’t help but feel anxious at the thought of my son with no one to watch him in a big city like Chicago.

“It’s in June, and it’s only for two weeks,” he continues quickly.

“Honey... that’s in a month and a half,” I point out, “It’s kind of last minute to be bringing this up to me, don’t you think?”

“I know, mom, but I didn’t think I wanted to do it and I started thinking about it more and then I realized I really want to do it,” he pleads.

“I didn’t realize you were really into computer programming,” I state softly. If I don’t know about something that my son is so clearly passionate about, am I really that good of a mother?

“Yeah, well, it’s a, um, recent development.”

I nod. “Okay. We’ll sign you up for this camp tonight and then we’ll start getting you ready.”

“Thanks, mom!” He launches himself into my arms and I giggle with surprise, not ready for the sudden action. Nonetheless, I hug him back, cherishing the feeling of my older child in my arms.

“I love you, Holden.”

“I love you, too, mom.”

Later that night I lay in bed, darkness filling my room. As soon as Holden left my room earlier to play video games, I pulled out my phone, scheduling an appointment with my doctor to confirm the pregnancy and see how far along I am.

I reach over for my phone, opening Instagram. Adam’s follow request still sits there, untouched. It’s been weeks now, so I doubt that he remembers that he even sent it. Hell, I don’t even post that often, so if I confirmed it, he would barely be able to tell that he’s following me.

But do I confirm it for my son and our future, second child together? Do I message him and tell him that I’m 99% sure that he’s going to be a dad again?

I mean, his track record so far tells me that I shouldn’t do that. He doubted paternity when I told him that I was pregnant with Holden and basically told me to get rid of the baby. He didn’t bother to contact me for thirteen years, and when we did come into contact again, accidentally, he didn’t mention Holden at all or ask about him.

That tells me he’s still not ready to become a parent. It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t come to terms that he’s a dad and that he needs to step up and be there for his child- or children, now.

And I may be a bitch, but I don’t want to give him a chance to hurt this second baby. Even though Holden’s never shown any interest in getting to know Adam, what if this second child does?

What if this baby reaches out to Adam just to get told “sorry, I don’t want you and I never did.” I can’t imagine how much my heart would break for my child if that were to happen. So, with pain radiating in my heart, I decline Adam’s follow request. I’ve gone through one pregnancy without him, I can go through another.

Day by day, it’s getting harder to hide my pregnancy from Holden. I wanted to wait as long as I could, or at least until twelve weeks when I know it’s less likely to lose the baby, to tell him that I’m pregnant. I was eight weeks along when I found out but now, I’m fourteen weeks, beginning to show.

I’ve noticed that with this pregnancy I started showing a lot sooner than I did with Holden. My doctor told me that’s normal, that my uterus is already stretched out, so the baby already has space to grow.

I’ve been wearing baggy sweatshirts and T-shirts for weeks now, but I don’t think Holden’s caught on yet.

I stare at myself in the mirror, a prominent bump sticking out from my stomach. I can tell it’s only going to be days until I have to begin telling people about the baby, but I don’t have a few days with Holden.

I drop him off at the airport early tomorrow morning for his flight to Chicago. All he’s ben raving about for the past month and a half has been this computer programming camp- honestly, most of it goes over my head, but I smile whenever he talks about it to me because he gets so enthusiastic.

After seeing him lock himself in his room to play video games all day for months, it’s nice to see him be so passionate about something.

And I hate to tell him such big news right before he leaves for his camp, but if I don’t tell him now, he’ll definitely find out with his own eyes when he gets back.

I drop my shirt, walking hesitantly into the hallway and knocking on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he calls out.

I open the door to find him hurriedly shoving shirts and shorts into his suitcase that’s laying on his bed.

“Hey, fold those properly so that you have more room in your suitcase,” I advise, taking some shirts from the luggage and folding it into a neat pattern. “And pack some pants, Chicago can still be chilly in June.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, rushing over to his dresser and pulling his pants drawer open.

“I want to talk to you about something,” I tell him, eyes focused on his back.

He freezes in his spot, a pair of black jeans in one hand and a pair of blue jeans in the other. “Okay?”

“Come sit with me.”

He slowly moves over towards me, sitting on the other side of his suitcase. “Okay.”

I take a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”

“O-Okay.”

“Can you say something other than okay?” I question, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Well, is it, is it Winston’s?”

I shake my head, biting my lip.

“How far along are you?”

I squint in confusion, unsure of the sudden change from the questioning of paternity to how far along I am. “Fourteen weeks.”

“Do you know the sex yet?”

“No, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find that out at all,” I admit.

“I think we should find that out when I get back from the camp, together,” he responds nonchalantly, folding a T-shirt laying on the bed.

I can’t help but feel surprised. I thought he would be shocked, upset, angry, I don’t know, but have a stronger reaction than the one that he’s giving me. I guess this camp really is putting him in a good mood, though. It makes me worried of what his reaction is going to be when he returns to Philadelphia after Chicago.

Will he still have that casual approach, or will it finally hit him that it won’t just be the two of us?

“So, you’re okay with it?” I confirm.

“Yeah. It’s about time we get some change around here.”

I chuckle at that, reaching for another shirt to fold. “Yeah, well, we’re about to get a whole lot of change.”

Please fill out this form on what you want the sex of baby #2 to be!!

#adam boqvist #adam boqvist imagine #adam boqvist x reader #Chicago Blackhawks imagine #NHL imagines

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127-mile · 3 years

Text

Tales from the front desk: Ten.

Pairing: Artist!Ten x reader.

Genre: Ghost, haunted hotel | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Non-explicit mentions of death, mention of loneliness. There is a scene where it looks like drugs are being used on the reader, but it is not drugs, just the hotel’s bad atmosphere.

Plot: The Neo hotel opened its door in the nineties, and if at first it was seen as a nice and cheap place to stay, it changed pretty quickly. As intriguing as the hotel is, I do not advice you to ask the locals about it, because they will react in a way you do not want to witness. Fortunately enough, it is easy to know what happened in these walls, what happened in some of the rooms, thanks to a little bird with eyes everywhere.

Meet Ten, the artist whose death is as mysterious as it is famous, he likes to wander around the hotel in search of a new muse.

Word count: +4.8k.

A/N: This is inspired by the fifth season of American Horror Story and the real Cecil hotel. More parts with different members will be posted. I already have 5 chapters ready to be written. Also, this part will be linked with Johnny’s part. Spoiler on the tile: the mafia leader.

"I must warn you," the receptionist says as soon as he steps inside the elevator. "the third floor is known to be a bit hectic, so you might want to change room, which is totally fine." this is not the idea settings you were expecting when you wanted to rent a permanent room at the Neo hotel, but you had no other choice. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"If you say so." he answers, and he cringes at the music playing in the background. He has a love-hate relationship with the way it echoes in the elevator, after so many years, it sounds just like fingernails on a blackboard. "After you." he says when the doors slide open, and you take a few steps forwards, and you wait, backpack hanging from your shoulders.

"This is the fourth door on the right." the receptionist carries the dufflebag and he stops in front of the right door. "I don't know if you have noticed, but the signals is really bad here, so I have to check if the landline is working in your room." he unlocks the door, and heads to the vintage looking phone.

The wallpaper is old, and it is peeling off in the corners, and from where you are standing at the door, you see a layer of dust on the small wooden desk and the dresser. This is probably not healthy to breathe so much dust, and mold, but this is the cheapest place you could find in such a short time.

"Alright, the phone is working," the man starts, turning on his heels to face you. He looks young, way too young to be working in this kind of hotel, when he could fit right in, in one of those fancy hotels. "do not hesitate to call me at the front desk is someone bothers you too much, I'll come right away."

"Do you think someone is going to bother me?" you ask, head tilted to the side and the man shrugs. "I do not know for sure, but the last occupants of this room had some problems with the neighbors. Nothing I could not handle, so do not worry about a thing." this is really not reassuring.

"I'll take my leave then, please enjoy your stay. The bar opens at 8pm, and the roomservice is available at any time of the day, or the night, just press the number 4 on the phone." you nod, and you push yourself away from the door to let the man steps into the common hallway. "Oh, by the way sir, can I ask you for a favor?" you ask suddenly, and the man nods.

"If someone comes in looking for me, could you please call me before sending them?" the man, Doyoung, as you can read on the badge he is wearing on his shirt narrows his eyes. "Are you trying to avoid someone? Are you in troubles?" this is not the conversation you want to have with a stranger, but this is also the only way you can be safe.

"Let's say there is a reason for me to be staying here, when I have a perfectly functional house." Doyoung hums, hands burried in the pockets of his pants. "I understand, and I will let you know. No one will come knock on your door without you being made aware of it, trust me."

"Thank you, sir." you answer, and he smiles politely before leaving. A few seconds later, you hear the creaky sound of the elevator's doors, but before you close the door, you hear him speak, and you wonder if he is talking to you.

"Could you stop following me, you know very well you are not allowed to go anywhere else than this very floor. You do not want me to call the man for the sixth floor to remind you of the rules, right?" you frown, who is he talking to in this patronizing voice? "Yes, that's what I thought. Stay away from me, and from the room 304."

You walk outside of the room when you hear his last words, but the hallway is empty, Doyoung is already inside the elevator and no one is here. Who was he talking to? Maybe to someone peeking from behind their room's door, you think.

You close the door, and do something you should never have done. You drop onto the bed, head falling onto the pillows which sends up a cloud of dust thick enough to make you cough. "Oh, fucking hell." you mumble, straightening up.

When you finally stop coughing, your lungs are burning in a very unpleasant way, and you need time to catch your breath.

After a minute or so, you lie down again, more delicately this time, and you grab your phone from the pocket of your jacket. Like Doyoung had say, there is no signal, and you can't find anything with a potential wifi password on the bedside table like in the other hotels you had the luck to stay in.

At least, you know you will not be bothered by calls, and threatening texts from the person you are running away from. This is a plus, but is getting sick because of the dust really worht the peace that it will bring you? You do not know, you need to weight the pros and cons before giving your final verdict.

After an hour, you realize that the television is not working, which means there is nothing to do in this place. Without internet, you can't scroll down social medials until you fall asleep, so you have to find something to do if you do not want to die from pure boredom.

You get up from the bed, and you open the room's door. You hear nothing but the gentle hum of the air con, so you decide to take the keys and lock behind you. Maybe you can visit the hotel before it gets dark, you do not really want to see thos creepy long hallways bathed in unnatural yellow light.

You wait in front of the elevator when you hear a noise. You can't pinpoint exactly what kind of noise it is, but it is eery. It is like a gargling sound, but muffled by something. This sound is soon followed by a loud thump against one of the many doors, but you do not have time to go and investigate as the elevator's door slide open in front of you.

Maybe it's for the best, you think.

If Doyoung said the neighbors are causing problems, you do not want to be part of it. You are here to hide, and calm down, not ot get into any sort of fights with strangers. You look at the buttons, wondering which floor you should go to, but your eyes stop on one particular button.

Roof.

You press it without a second thought, and you wait.

It seems like as you go up, the music only gets louder and louder, and by the time you are two floors before the roof, you have to put your hands over your ears to try and drown out the disturbing noise coming from the old sizzling speaker.

"This place is fucking hell on earth." you mutter as you finally step out of the elevator. You are not quite on the roof, but rather in front of a flight of stairs that lead to the actual roof. But now that you are here, in front of the stairs, you wonder if it was not a bad idea. Not because you are scared or anything, but because the roof is usually a part you can't access in an hotel. So what if it is locked?

"Fuck it." you have nothing to lose, so you climb the stairs, not daring to put your hand on the railing, you feel dirty enough by simply staying in your dusty room, you do not need more right now. There are more steps than what you would have thought, but it's fine.

And it is also worth it, because you see the chain and the padlock on the ground, and the door is left ajar, held open by what looks like a brick.

With the air con, you forgot how hot it is outside, how hard it is to breath in the stuffy air. But you stay on the roof, and you were not expecting anything, and yet, you are still disappointed in a way. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. Oh, yes, there a huge water barrels on the side, but that's about it.

You walk to the edge of the roof, and you watch as life goes on outside of the hotel. People are walking down the street, some look at the hotel in a curiosity you do not understand, others cross the road to avoid it like the plague. This is trange, but you do not question it, you are not from here, and you know nothing about the hotel, so this is not your place to comment.

"Sweetheart, please, do not add another body to this hotel, we are already crowded down there."

You turn around when you hear a man's voice, sweet like honey, and dripping with something you can't quite describe. "I was not planning on jumping." you answer, and he looks relieved. "May I join you, then?" you nod, it is not like you have other things to do, or somewhere else to be.

"So, what is a beautiful doll like you is doing in a place like the Neo hotel?" he asks, sitting down on the edge of the roof, so you take the opportunity to watch him. His side profile was definitely crafted by the gods, and his long black hair falls prettily on his face, covering his cat-like eyes.

"Enjoying summer?" he pats the space beside him, so you sit down, legs dangling in the air. "You must hate yourself quite a lot to spend your summer in this place. What happened, who hurt you?" it is a rhetorical question, you know it, but you still shrug. "I mean, you are here, so I guess I could return you the question."

"Touché." is all he answers, and you close your eyes. It feels nice to be here, even though you can't help but to think about the man next to you, a stranger who could potentially push you from the roof, straight to your death. "What did you mean when you talked about the body count of the hotel?" you suddenly ask.

"Do you know anything about the Neo hotel?" you shake your head, and he hums. "That's for the best then, do not worry that pretty little head of yours." you are intrigued, and you hate the fact that he is really not talking about it, that's mean, you think.

"I'm Ten, by the way."

You open your eyes, and you turn to face him, legs crossed. "Ten? Like the artist? Lee Ten?" he turns his head, eyes narrowed because of the sun, and the corners of his mouth curve into a smile. "You know him?"

"He was on the front page of every newspapers when he died, and everyone talked about it for a while." for some reason, he looks satisfied with your answer. "Did they find anything about the way he died?"

You watched a bunch of videos about the Ten case, mostly because it was weird when it happened, nothing could have predicted that the young and famous artist would suddenly die in such a mysterious way, and you were trying to avoid your homework at the time. "There are a few theories, but nothing was never actually proved."

"Theories? Fascinating! Tell me more, please?" you heave a sigh, this is not how you thought your first day would end up, but you are not mad about it, you guess it is better than to be locked inside your room.

"Some people said he died of an accidental overdose, some said he killed himself, unable to deal with his sudden success. I watched a video of this girl who said he probably died because of the products he used to paint, that he inhaled too much of the fumes."

"And what do you think?" he asks, head tilted to the side. He looks amused by the conversation, but you think nothing of it. "I don't really know. He was young, wealthy, and I heard that he liked the attention, he liked knowing that people talked about him, so he probably found a way to die whilst remaining in everyone's head, and mouth."

"He did like to be the center of the attention." Ten comments, more to himself than to you. "Do you remember where he died?" you look up at the sky, and you try to think about this detail. You heard it thousands of times, but for some reason, you can't think of the name of the place. You can't even put a face on the name.

"It was in an hotel, I think?" he nods his head with vigor, his smile turns into a smirk. "Does the Neo hotel rings any bell?" you open your eyes wide, and you stand up so quickly that you miss tripping over your own foot. "Oh, take it easy sweetheart."

"He died here, in this hotel!" you exclaim, as Ten stands up too. "He did. At least now I know you are not here to investigate his death, which is a shame honestly. It's been a while since anyone came."

You should have known sooner something was fishy about this place! The name of the hotel did make something click inside of you, but in your haste to get away from home, you did not think about it more. You just thought it was a name you saw online while Johnny was looking for a place to stay during some random trip.

"Wait, how to you know people don't come investigate anymore?" he shrugs, and he walks towards the door. "Let's just say that I've been here for quite a while, and I notice when things change around here." you follow him, making sure the door is still ajar for whoever decided to keep it open.

"Is this why you are here?" you ask. "And is this why you chose this name? Are you some sort of creepy fanboy? You know, trying to be where your fantasy lover took his last breath, to be closer to him than anybody ever did?"

Ten chuckles, pressing on the elevator button. "What if I am?" you stay quiet, and you step in the elevator, Ten doing the same. "Which floor?" you press on the third and he smiles softly. "I see we are on the same floor, that's interesting."

You suddenly wonder if he is part of the troublesome neighbors Doyoung told you about. "Can I ask you something?" you have no time to think about it, you just nod. "Would you pose for me?" you frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean, pose?"

"I'm an artist, and I like to paint real people."

"You are really going all the way to be like the real Ten, uh?" the young man smile softly, but he does not answer. "But yes, I have nothing better to do, so paint me like one of your french girl." he laughs, and he leads you to his room's door, which is, the one where you heard the weird noises earlier.

"Are you alright?" he asks when he sees that you seem hesitant to take a step inside. "I- I, yes." you can't tell him what you heard, you do not want to make him angry, or uncomfortable and miss the opportunity to be a little more entertained until bedtime. "Come in!"

The room is bigger than yours, and on the walls, paintings are hung and a shiver rolls down your spine. Each painting has a different person on it, and it feels like they are watching you, they are scrutinize your every move. "What do you think? Pretty good, right?"

Yes, the paintings are incredible, and extremely realistic, but your pain is screaming at you to get the fuck out of Ten's room, and to not return, something is weighting down on your stomach when your eyes meet the ones of a man on the very first painting. "You are really talented, Ten."

Ten is beaming at the compliment, and he indicates a sofa on the back of the room, right in front of an easel. "Sit down, please. And be natural, there is nothing better than being natural." you nod, sitting down and ignoring the cloud of dust around you. He rummages through a drawer for his pain, brushes and a pencil to draw the sketch on the blank canvas.

"You are so beautiful, I could spend days looking at you." he says, not even taking his eyes off of his canvas. "You deserve to be forever on a canvas and admired by everyone." his voice is low, and you see in his face that he is focused on his task.

"How long have you been painting?" you ask, and you expect Ten to stay silent, but he hums. "My mother did not have time to take care of me, nor did she wanted it, so she used to give me paint, and old letters to keep me occupied while she was at work, or drinking with her friends. It was cheaper than a babysitter, so I started really young." not the ideal parenting, you think.

"Have you ever painted?" you try not to move, but it is hard when it feels like you are sinking deeper into the sofa. "I did, when I was in art class back in high school, but I was never good at it. I'm not an artistic person, I guess." Ten scoffs. "Art does not have to be good, or pretty to look at to be considered art. So of course you are an artist, no matter what you think. We all are artists in our own way."

This is a nice thought, and it could help a lot of people who are feeling discouraged. From the corner of your eye, you see a movement, but you do not say anything, you probably just saw a bug or something. But when it happens again, a shadow is looming over the wall, you jump off of the couch. "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" Ten asks, barely looking up from his canvas, he did not notice you getting up from the couch. "The shadow, I saw a shadow!" he laughs softly, putting his pencil down to stand up. "A shadow? This is only the two of us." he says, putting a hand on your cheek.

"Are you okay?" he tilts his head to the side, and you try to ignore how cold his hand is. "Why don't you lie down for a bit? You look ready to throw up." you feel dizzy, but you do not know if it's because of how hot it is in Ten's room, or because of his proximity.

He pushes you back down on the couch, and the way your back crushes against the back of the couch is enough to cut your breath short. "Close your eyes, my sweet little doll, you will feel batter later, I promise." he says, crouching down to face you. He slides his fingers on your face, and suddenly, you do not like his smile.

You want to say something, to get up and leave. You want to call Doyoung, to tell him everything, but you feel so so tired. Your eyelids are so heavy, you can barely keep eye contact with Ten. You do not want to fall asleep here, you are not comfortable, you hate this room.

"I want to go home." you say in a voice so low that Ten has to lean closer to hear it. "But this is home, sweetheart." you shake your head, no this is not home, home is where your husband is. "You said it yourself, you have a reason to be here, you had a reason to leave your house." he kisses your forehead gently. "This is your new home."

He stands up, and he opens his mouth again. "You will never have to run away ever again. You will be safe here, and never will you feel alone between these walls." Ten sits back down on his stool, and he looks at your like you are the eighth wonder of the world. "Sleep, sweetheart, everything will be better when you wake up."

You do not want it, but you close your eyes, and soon enough, you feel the arms of darkness embracing you tightly.

When you wake up, it is to a room bathed in sunlight and with a splitting headache.

You straighten up, trying to ignore the pain and how sore your body feels. You rub your eyes with the palm of your hands, and look around. You are in your bedroom, in the same clothes you came in and your phone is on the bedside table.

You remember falling asleep in Ten's room, and yet, you are here. What the fuck? Did you fall asleep yesterday, and dreamed of Ten and everything that happened after? You do not know, you are confused, but right now, you have better to do than to dwell on a potential dream.

You need some fucking aspirin.

You know you do not have any in yuor bag, so you stand up. Your vision becomes blurry, and your head is spinning, so you wait for a minute or so, and when you do not feel like you are going to pass out on the dirty carpet, you leave the room.

You try to be as quiet as possible, you do not want Ten to go out of his room, whether you actually met him or nit. Maybe he is not even real, you do not know shit right now.

The music in the elevator is too much, you should have taken the stairs, but you heave a sigh of relief when the doors slide open on the lobby.

Like the day before, it is empty, and Doyoung is standing behind the desk. He looks up when he hears the creak of the doors, and he smiles. "Good morning, how was your first night?" you stop in front of him. "Terrible. Awful."

His smile fades, and you feel bad for a second. "Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that. Did the neighbors bother you? I can go and talk to them, if you want." you shake your head. "Do you have aspirin? I have the worst headache ever." you mumble, and he nods before disappearing in the room behind the front desk.

He comes back with a small bottle of water, and two aspirins that he hands you. "You are my savior." he chuckles, and he watches you chug half of the bottle with the pills. "So, care to tell me what made your night so bad?"

"I had a really weird dream with a guy called Ten." he frowns at the mention of the young artist, so you tilt your head to the side. "Do you know him?" you really want him to tell him that no, he has no recall of a man called Ten in the hotel, you really want to believe that all of this was a dream.

"I actually do. Would you do me a favor?" when you nod, eyes narrowed, he opens his mouth again. "Can you go to the door, and try to leave the hotel? I know this sounds crazy, but I really need you to do it, without asking questions, I'll tell your everything later, I promise."

You do not know why, but you trust Doyoung with his gummy smile and his kind eyes, so you walk toward the front door, and you push it open.

But instead of seeing the street, hearing the traffic noise, you find yourself in one of the hotel's rooms. Not any room. Ten's room.

Ten is sitting on his stool, and his face and hair are covered in paint. When he sees you, his smile brigtens his face in a way you did not know was possible. "Sweetheart! What are you doing here so early? Already missing me?"

How is that even possible? You were trying to leave the hotel, how can you now be in a room, in the third floor? What the fuck is happening? "Look at that! I'm almost done." Ten grabs your wrist, and he makes you turn around to the easel.

You see yourself on the canvas, and it looks sor eal, you think that if you try to touch your face, you'll actually feel it. It is incredible, it is like looking at yourself in a mirror, but it is nothing but paint. "What do you think?" Ten is eager to know if you like the painting he spent so many hours working on.

"This is truly amazing." Ten's smile gets even bigger, and his eyes lit up, and you realize he has not let go of your wrist. "I'm glad you think so. From now on, you will always be with me."

You take a step back, but when you do, he only tightens his grip on your wrist, and it starts to hurt. "The hotel is greedy, you know, so I had to keep a part of you with me. I can't let the hotel have you entierly."

What he says make no sense, but you can't find it in yourself to ask him what he means. "I told you, you wouldn't have to run away anymore, and that you would never be alone either. There are so many people stuck in this hotel, you will forget what loneliness feels like." he sounds so excited, but you can't even pretend to be.

"Are you happy now, Ten?" you turn around when you hear Doyoung's voice. He is standing in the doorway, arms crossed against his chest, and his face is nothing but pure anger. "What is the point of keeping them here, you know very well they will refuse to see you after that, and you will be back to feeling lonely."

Ten shrugs, putting his brush down. "I do not care, I still have a part of them with me, these paintings are special. They are everything I have, and I will never be lonely, no matter if they decide to hide or not."

Ten finally lets go of your wrist, so you do not waste a second to join Doyoung. The man takes your hand in his, and he gently presses it. "Do you want to know something, Ten?" he asks, and the young man nods. "The reason why your favorite refuse to see you after you paint their portrait is simple. They are not hiding from you. I keep them away from you."

Ten's eyes open wide, and fill with tears. "What do you mean?" Doyoung's eery smile is back, and you do not like it, but you do not leave his side. He exhudes something comfortable. "You paint to avoid loneliness. But you deserve to be lonely. So as long as you will keep them here, I will keep them away from you. Be careful next time, I might just burn all of your little paintings, you deserve to feel trapped."

"You can't do that!" Ten yells, a sob threatening to leave his trembling lips, but a tear is already rolling down his cheek. "They are mine! They decided to be my muses, they have to stay with me!" Doyoung laughs, throwing his head back. "This hotel is mine, and will always be mine, I do whatever I want. And what I want, is for you to be as miserable as possible. You need to be punished. Loneliness is the punishment I chose for you."

"Come on darling, we have a lot of things to talk about, and I will also find you a better room because it seems like you are going to stay a little longer than planned." he leaves the bedroom and closes the door behind him. But you can still hear Ten's loud cries. "Do not worry, you'll never have to see Ten ever again, or at least until he decides to act like a normal human being again."

#nct #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios

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howardpotts · 4 years

Text

five: get a taste

Love on the Brain - Masterlist in links

Pairing: MobBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and violence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer?

Chapter warning: none :)

A/N: Soooooo, here’s chapter 5 after a loooong time of waiting! Let me know what you think!

“I’m a little surprised that you got into my car after what happened”, he chuckles as you get in. You try to not show anything while getting in, but it felt like you failed miserably. He doesn’t look at you though, as if he wanted to give you that kind of privacy, since he ordered you to only wear the jacket he sent you.

“I have to admit that I’m not sure why I’m getting in either”, you counter. “I guess I just want you to tear me apart again, but now without all the gang-stuff please.”

As you grab your seatbelt, he turns his head to you. “It won’t happen this time, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

“Well”, he starts, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t exactly promise anything. But I give it a good eighty percent chance.”

That gives him a low chuckle from your side. It kind of excites you. Which is wrong, of course, but you can’t help it.

“Nice car, by the way”, you remark. The yellow lamborghini was quite the eyecatcher in your neighborhood - which wasn’t exactly in the best part of the city.

The old buildings from Brooklyn quickly get replaced by the view of the skyline of Manhattan. The view always amazes you, but especially now - around sunset. All those towers can make any person feel small, but at the same time so powerful. It makes you feel like you have purpose in such a big world.

“Y’know, I was born in Flatbush”, Steve calls. You look at him. He’s from Brooklyn?

“And you left? Why?”, you ask curiously, without even thinking that he’s a potentially dangerous guy you don’t want to ask too many questions.

“I don’t have anything to live for there”, he simply answers. You can feel he’s holding back, and him biting his upper lip betrays that even more.

As we drive into Manhattan, he takes some turns, bringing you into China Town. You’re not sure why; but every time you’d enter China Town, you’d get this uneasy feeling. As if you were being watched, but at the same time not watched at all. Even though there wasn’t any reason at all that you’d have to feel that way, no one ever approached you or betrayed you.

Steve took a right turn at the traffic lights, taking the car to the unknown part of China Town - the part you never explored, even though you lived her for a couple of years now. Now you were starting to get really uncomfortable.

Would he be active in human trafficking?

Holy shit. That thought scared you. Even though you tried to shake it off, it stuck. Especially when he took another right, getting into a street that was almost dead - apart from some kind of club?

He stopped right across the street from it, neonlights were flashing in your eyes. You had to squint to read the sign. ‘Sexclub Spider’. No. This couldn’t- Steve wouldn’t-

Of course he would. Fuck, you’re such a stupid fucking girl to believe that he would take you to a fucking restaurant. You’re so naïve. Even though you felt like you were careful at the times you should be, you somehow decided to give the bad guy your weak spot.

“Here we are”, he smiles, unclicking his belt and opening his door. You look like a deer in headlights. You’re not sure if it’s better to cooperate or to struggle. Maybe if you do as they say, they’ll treat you nicely. But maybe if you put on a fight, you can get away. Run to freedom. Never get in a fucking car with a stranger again.

A call of your name gets you out of your thoughts. “Are you getting out of the car?” A light chuckle in his voice as he leans down. You nod, too afraid to not do as he says. You open the door and get out, your brain foggy about what is happening.

“I normally come here alone, so I’m sorry if you get a few looks”, he says. You look at him, thoughts still a mile away - looking for a way out of this situation. The sentence doesn’t even fully comprehend in your head.

“Alone?”, you ask.

“Yes, just like the coffeebar you work at, I’m a regular at Happy’s Place”, he says as he points to something behind you. “And, yeah, before you judge. I know the name is a bit ridiculous, but the food is amazing.”

Slowly you turn around, and a small dark but cosy restaurant comes in your view. There’s this small board with ‘Happy’s Place’ above the wooden windows.

A sigh of relief leaves your mouth without you noticing it. Your shoulders relax again and your facial expression must have changed too. Again you face Steve, now with a little smile on your face.

“What?”, he asks, a bit dumbfounded. You know what, let’s be honest with him.

“Well, I, uhm”, you say, red slowly showing on your cheeks. “I thought…. Just look across the street.”

He turns his head around for two seconds before turning it back to you. A big surprised smile is on his face, eyebrows up showing some wrinkles on his forehead.

“You thought that I’d…? No, I don’t do that shit. Hell, even I have some decency and respect”, he snorts as he walks around the car and puts his hand on your lower back. It’s a sudden reminder for you that you’re not wearing anything but the jacket.

“Sorry, that was rude of me to think”, you apologize, not wanting to be on the wrong page with him.

“Let’s just enjoy a good meal and get to know each other a little bit”, he says. You nod, and pull on the jacket; feeling a little bit uncomfortable again.

The waitress was giving us a big smile when we walked in, I automatically smiled back politely and greeted her.

“Can I take your jackets?”, she asks as she clasps her hands together softly. Your smile almost washes off your face, but you remember quickly enough to keep up your façade.

Steve gives his leather jacket and then he watches you with the biggest mischievous smirk. “Aren’t you going to give your jacket?”

You clench your teeth together for a split second before shaking your head. “No thanks, I’m okay.”

The waitress leads you to your table. Even though the restaurant is fairly small, it doesn’t feel packed. It’s full, but not crowded. It has this warm family feeling, with several family portraits on the brick walls. Some red curtains and table drapes add to the atmosphere that’s already going on, and the people all seem to have a great time. It feels like one of those ‘almost-too-perfect’ places.

“Thank you”, you say as Steve helps you get in your chair. Even though you could’ve easily done it yourself, it never fails to flatter you when a man acts like a true gentleman.

Steve wasn’t lying when he told you the food was delicious. You ordered some chicken breast with cheese stuffing, with fries and a salad on the side. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Steve told you that he didn’t need all the fancy stuff.

It made him feel real, the stuff he did and told. How he took you to some normal restaurant in China Town, instead of trying to impress you with all the fancy restaurants he can afford. How he grew up in Brooklyn but left because he didn’t feel home there.

“So, I can imagine you’re curious to my business”, he says as he eyes you.

“Of course, but I don’t expect you to tell me a lot about it. It’s not very legal after all.” You try to get if he’s okay with it. But then again - he opened up the topic. “But, yes, I’m curious.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. I can’t tell a lot about it, but I can maybe feel you a bit at ease. It might help to know that I don’t human traffic - like I said earlier - but I also don’t deal drugs. I’m doing something not a lot of guys can do. In fact, I only have one big rival.”

“Rival? Like, another gang?”, you ask. You’re feeling less afraid now and dare to feel his boundaries.

“Exactly that. We’re not exactly on good terms. It’s actually a lot like every other business; the only difference is that our product is illegal and we use a little bit more violence.” He takes another bite from his beef, giving you time to ask another question.

“Like that guy that broke in last week”, you state.

“Like that guy that broke in last week”, he repeats to confirm your thoughts.

“But how did you get into this?” You take a sip from your wine, not letting your eyes leave him. You’re way too invested in this conversation.

“That’s a story for me to know, and you to guess, sweetheart”, he says with a wink. You understand the notion of him giving the boundarie you were searching for and decide to be very respectful of it.

“Now that I’ve given you some, you gotta give me something back”, he smirks. “How did you come to live in Bushwick?”

“Well”, you say and clear your throat. “I decided it was time to go live on my own a few years ago. It was such a hell job to find an affordable apartment in New York, but I met Wanda through school and she was also looking for a room or apartment. We decided to look together and then we stumbled upon this little apartment. It’s small, but we’re glad we found something.”

He nods, listening to you as you tell. It’s a bit weird, but the dangerous man he is, is slowly getting to the background. He’s starting to become more of a normal person - maybe someone who could actually be a normal friend of yours.

“And that’s why you work at the café?”

“I need to pay the bills somehow. A lot of sparetime goes into that, to be honest, and a lot of that goes into my apartment. But as soon as I’m done with my study, I hope to find some job that makes life a bit easier”, you give him a little sad smile.

“So I think now is the fair question to ask: do you really think it’s that weird for me to go illegal? To get myself a nice place in Manhattan, so I don’t have to worry about money.” He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink. He just looks at you with wonder on his face.

You’re quiet for a second, collecting your thoughts about that question. Now that you’re getting to know him a bit, he doesn’t seem like a bad guy at all. It kind of makes sense that he just wants money. But then again, there are other ways of getting that money. Maybe not as much, but that’s the price you pay for not ending up behind bars.

“I don’t know”, you say. “There’s always another path.”

“Right. The ‘rightful’ path? You think those politicians came to the top by playing it by the rules? You think Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerburg got there by following the book? The most succesful people don’t follow the law; they just work in the gray areas. And it’s kind of what I do too; but it’s a bit more to the illegal side.” He takes the fry of his plate, looking at you with fire in his eyes. You’re not sure if it’s passion or anger.

It stays silent for a minute. You’re not sure if you believe what he just said, but you get his trail of thoughts. But you’re not sure if that’s the only thing that got him into that business, otherwise he would’ve told you when you asked the question.

“Now, how about we both slip to the bathroom and I’ll eat you as dessert?”, he smirks as he leans back in his chair. “Didn’t make you wear that jacket for nothin’, my dear.”

________________________

TAGS:

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #mobboss!steve rogers #mobboss!steve #mobboss steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #mob boss steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x you smut #reader x steve rogers #avengers x reader #au steve rogers #steve rogers au

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buddha-in-disguise · 4 years

Text

I have so much to unpack from last night's Supergirl episode. Since it ends at 3am UK time, I often tweet a little before I finally fall asleep. But it is now midday, so here goes on further thoughts on it all. I know this is going to be pretty rambling but I hope it makes sense.

First. Up until this half of the season, not only did Supergirl consistently trend in the UK, so did other words associated with it, most notably Kara and Lena.

Since 5B began, the trending has failed to materialise in the UK. The hiatus of two those blocks almost immediately on top of each other hasn't helped, but it is still a salient point.

Now for the rest. I'm not even sure where to start, but I will try my best.

The opening scenes in the bar.

No Nia. No Kelly. Where were they? Nothing was even mentioned. It wouldn't have taken much to have Alex say if Kelly was working, or running late. Anything. Hell, they had Kelly/Dansen and Nia meet up in a bar scenario in 5A. Why suddenly are they not there? They wouldn't necessarily need dialogue (I mean, Kelly has barely had any since Crisis anyway, so what's new?)

Yet in walks William and suddenly Alex is teasing Kara about inviting him. Winn is also there saying, hey it's okay. You barely know the guy, you had a shitty relationship beforehand, but go ahead, date the dude.

We had a prime opportunity for the Danver sisters to do karaoke together. Instead it was with William. At the expense of sister time (so many would’ve loved the sisters singing together).

So much here is wrong for me as a viewer.

If you have a show about female empowerment, yet the lead of that show is having to be told by others that dating a guy she has barely shared any positive moments with, let alone any romantic feelings for beyond a really awkward moment the episode before; that is not empowering a woman.

All too often Supergirl (as the lead in the show) is looking at dating, but not being capable of making her own romantic choices without the interference from others around her.

The only one I can think of who didn't need that was S1 James and to some degree Adam. Kara showed interest, but ultimately made the decisions on her own. Kara also recognised that with Winn, they were better off as friends. Yet S2 began and inexplicably Kara and James had broken up, and the need for Kara to get told to go for it by others began.

Mon-El was extremely problematic. As is William. Both were allowed to lie, to treat women like garbage at times with immunity. Yet here is another double standard. Kara and the Superfriends lied to Lena for 3 years, yet Lena is a bad person for reacting. I will repeat what has been said I don't know how often about Lena's reaction. It isn't without issue in how she is dealing with it. She isn't evil, but she has handled it badly. Her own emotional trauma, that was partly unpacked in 5A helps though explain why she behaved as she has.Yet, Mon-El faced no consequences for his actions. William can be a complete nightmare in how he treated Kara in 5A, but all is suddenly forgotten about or forgiven because of the reset? That is a cop out if ever there was one.

This hypocrisy is what annoys me the most, and frankly it is misogynistic all too often.

I actually pity any woman who believes it is okay for a man to behave as many do towards Kara. The message it sends is awful. I know the men in my family would be horrified by the actions of these love interests. I know of some men watching the show who feel the same way.

As for Lena and Kara. The trauma both have faced has shaped them. Yet Kara appears unaffected by losing her world a second time when Earth 38 was destroyed. On losing Argo. Sure they got it back, but as a changed merged World. You expect us to believe having to watch an antimatter wave destroy those you love has no effect? That being trapped for months with only the other paragons and Lex didn't cause trauma, even with a positive outcome. That seeing Krypton destroyed the first time wasn’t traumatic enough. That’s not something that just goes away. Add in losing Jeremiah, losing Astra (again), the trauma Supergirl must face when she can’t rescue everyone, that has a lifelong impact.

Lena has shown her emotional trauma has also been lifelong, albeit in a different way. To dismiss the emotional abuse Lena has suffered to attack her actions now is pitiful. Winn even suggests to Kara, that in the future, Lena does come through this, and isn't evil personified some want to make her out to be.

Yet Mon-El gets excused, William gets excused. Ugh. I’m sick of the double standard.

So, let’s unpack this further. Kelly Olsen was in the military. She wasn't just trained, but had an active role in the army. She recounted an event at a checkpoint where she was serving in S4. So she had active service, and it was in that moment when Kelly decided she wanted to help others more.

Kelly also knows the stress of keeping an important part of your life secret. She then also fell in love with a woman, someone who was her Sergeant, who was then killed on patrol (another reason we know Kelly was on active duty). It devastated Kelly who hadn't even told James of her relationship.

Later, upon completing her service, Kelly became a psychologist specialising in trauma.

Nia is also someone facing problems. Not only did her becoming Dreamer lead to discord with her sister, as well as the tragic loss of her mother, she has problems with Brainy. Nia offered to be there for Kelly when she was upset over watching Alex get hurt, but we saw nothing to suggest they had a heart to heart. Azie posted something that suggested they filmed a scene that did this, but it never made it on the final edit. Instead, once again we had William taking screen time.

So anyway, the point of all this is: guess who is placed to actively help Lena and/or Kara with the problems?

Kelly. Who apparently doesn't know Kara is Supergirl yet. So while Kara wonders if she should tell William, she could have the exact same conversations with Alex, only substitute Kelly for William. Overall, the plot could easily be maintained, and the established cast get good solid and plausible screen time. She could even talk to Nia about it, yet doesn't.

Another thing I find hard to understand is why haven't they used the link of Kelly, working at Obsidian North, where they could establish the Leviathan link.

If Lex has made the connection to Leviathan, you are telling me, even without Brainy helping them, Alex, Nia, J'onn and Kara haven't made the same connection? C'mon. Two investigative journalists, one who has won the Pulitzer, two DEO trained agents, and if Kelly was brought in, someone military trained; aren't able to make the connections? J'onn has all those computer banks in the tower, and while none of them are Brainy or Winn, he can't use said computing power? Why bother having it, if they are only props in the background. They could even ask Lena to help, since she has shown willingness to work with them if the reasoning was good enough. Leviathan is someone she knows (after all, Lena could have her memories returned by J’onn too). She knows the danger Leviathan poses. She could use the leverage to still get the lens from Obsidian in a similar way to now, but through Kelly if needed.

Actually, if they are using the tower, how does J’onn afford to pay for all this? I can only assume being as old as he is, he made some great investments over time, allowing him to be independently wealthy? But again nothing really suggests this.

Oh as for Alex leaving the DEO, great. After all, she was the Director but hasn’t been able to lead the DEO in all that time. Let alone some of the morally grey areas the DEO skirted around all too often. Still, where will she get her income from? Does she get paid as part of J’onn’s PI firm? Kara barely makes rent and food costs (at least she says her apartment is rent controlled so wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise), so no way can she afford to help Alex out financially. Kelly might be able to support her, but again I cannot imagine it would be sustainable.

I feel like banging my head against a brick wall.

Onto Nia. I've said this a few times now, but here I go again. Back to William. I get the reason he came along in regards to Russell and so the Andrea connection. That story made sense. What hasn't made sense - William being used as a journalist, when Nia is right there! Nia has barely had any screen time, and virtually none as a journalist; you know - her actual job. I'm not sure what the minutes on screen ratio has been this season between the two, but it has felt completely slanted towards William as a viewer.

Instead of Kara and Nia investigating Leviathan after William was 'exposed' in 5A, now Nia is sidelined again, because they want Kara to team up with William to investigate Lex. Why do they need that journalistic pairing of William and Kara, when Nia - who as a Superhero, is better placed if danger from Lex occurs. But no, they're making it about Kara having to work with William because Lex threatened to kill him. Plus Nia was being mentored by Kara. Is she no longer being mentored by Kara? Are they a team? Even if the mentoring has ended, Nia is still not being utilised as a journalist. As the saying goes, make it make sense!

As for Lex. I love Jon Cryer. I’ve loved his version of Lex, but once again I feel Lena is just as well placed to take on his role in bringing down Leviathan. Why add another villain to this plot? We were told it was Leviathan who were the bad guys for this season, but once again we barely have a glimpse of them, but all the screen time on Lex, also to the detriment of Lena. We could be using this time to begin to mend Lena’s relationships with not only Kara, but the Superfriends. Instead we are getting bit and pieces, that seemingly bear little resemblance to the ‘fight for Lena’s soul’, or the ‘Stronger together, weaker apart’ tag lines the SG team used to market the series in 5A. (See attached photo). So again, this is frustrating for us to watch, as there is absolutely no cohesion to the storytelling. We know it is the ‘nothing is as it seems’ season, but to have no really coherent storylines so far this late on? It is baffling for me.

The sidelining of Nia and Kelly also brings to the fore the way the LGBTQ characters are being treated.

Dansen feels like a long lost legend from the mists of time. As I said earlier, there was a perfect opportunity for a Dansen scene in the opening part of the show, yet we might as well watch tumbleweeds fly past, for all the screen time Dansen or Nia have had. Well, rather haven’t had.

It seems we shouldn't ask for justification as to why William is on the show, but when we say the LGBTQ characters are being sidelined, that it doesn't matter one jot how diverse a cast can be; if said cast are not being given credible storylines or screentime, and if we say as much, we have to continually justify why that is the case. We get told to take what we are given. To insist on better, is oppressing white CIS men (in some cases CIS women have argued the same). This isn't oppressing anyone, but asking that if we get given relationships, given characters we want to invest in, they get the storylines to accomplish that. Supergirl is failing the LGBTQ audience so badly at the moment. So many have the same complaints it is ludicrous to suggest this is just one section of a fandom or trolls.

What I'm taking from all this at the moment is that 20% of the main viewing demographic as per GLAAD figures (and more besides, as I've seen straight viewers recognising the problems as well), have serious concerns with Supergirl.

But keep telling us we are overreacting. Or we should take what we are given. Or that we are delusional. After all, it is the kind of crap we have sprouted at us continually away from Supergirl, why shouldn't it be the case here.

I look at S4, heck even 5A, to what the show is doing now and it feels like an unmitigated disaster. Episodes are running out fast, so even if they increase Dansen, or Nia's screen time, it won't be enough to make up what has been lost. They're running out of time to give us a solid ending that ties up the mess they've created.

I really don’t know where this will end? CW Supergirl - do better. You have some phenomenal actors and actresses in your cast. Do them and your audience justice. Because right now you aren’t at all.

#lgbtq #supergirl #supercorp #azie tesfai #chyler leigh #gay #nicole maines #alexdanvers #alex danvers #kellyolsen #kelly olsen #nia nal #dreamer #superhero #dansen

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tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

Season 7-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 2

Word count: 3.5k

Ratings: Explicit.

Chapter 1

Adam watches you walk away stunned, and he is fuming at Jessa. He feels like breaking something. Right now. Fuckin’shit. He gets up to leave, pushing his chair out aggressively, once outside he screams. He turns arounds and sees the last person he wants to be near right now: Jessa.

“She was a fucking bitch. I did you a favor. It never would have worked anyway,” she says as she cools takes a puff of her cigarette.

“No, Jessa you’re the fucking bitch here! You only think of yourself and you need to make sure that everyone around you is just as fucking miserable as you are! Dammit! You destroy everything you touch!”

He punches the closest brick wall, and his hand begins to bleed. That is going to hurt in the morning, he thinks. Jessa throws the cig down, and grabs his injured hand with one of her hands, then touches his face with her other hand.

“Listen, Adam. We have a connection, something that no one else has or understands. That has to mean something, and you know it.”

“Jessa, the only connection we have is common unhealthy behaviors, Hannah-hating, and fucking. The only thing we’ve had left out of those for a long time is fucking and now we won’t have that! You’ve humiliated me, which tells me everything I need to know about how you really feel about me!”

Jessa looks like she’s trying not to cry while simultaneously being infuriated. Adam stalks off thinking to himself that he’s blown his chance with his dream girl. Jessa runs after him saying, “Adam, come back!”

“I should have said this long ago: I never want to see you again Jessa!”

Apparently the last comment was enough to stop Jessa from trailing behind him. He hadn’t been this tempted to drink in years. He reminds himself that he has auditions coming up and he can’t risk his career, or it will all be worth nothing. He’s sure him becoming a drunk mess won’t help him win over Y/N. Imploding the rest of his life won’t fix the situation. He then remembers that he has Y/N’s number, and he smirks. He won’t call Y/N tonight or tomorrow because she probably needs time to cool off, but he will get a hold of her, hope is not lost.

It had been four days since your explosive conversation with Adam. For the first two days, you had heard nothing and that was oddly comforting. The silence allowed you to work on forgetting how you had felt about him, and gave your attraction to him time to cool. All of that was lost on the third day, when he began calling you. You know it was him because he’d now left you eleven voicemails asking to talk, or for you to call him back, both requests were accompanied by streams of curse words and the sound of things breaking in the background.

There is a part of you that wants to breakdown and reach out to him, to see where this connection goes. But the rational part of you refuses to go down that road. If he could do that to Hannah, he could do that to you. You know tons of details about his relationship with Hannah because of her writing, and you know it was full of issues. Then there was the apparent soap level drama of Adam and Jessa, then throw Hannah into the mix, and you’d be asking for a load of headaches. You also considered just hooking up with him because you had never felt such a raw desire for a man, you tried to convince yourself that you could fuck him and get it out of your system. You subsequently reminded yourself that you’d likely not be able to stop at just one time, and you’d be directly inserting yourself into that mess. You could be just friends with him, but you knew you’d likely only feel stronger about him than you already did and you’d end up getting hurt.

You put your internal dialogue aside as you adjust your skirt, and make your way from your first meeting of the day: your editor. The conversation went as it did typically. She had suggestions for your work that is about to be published, and you made notes from her grammar checks. Now to meet with your agent, even though you knew what that meeting would consist of: planning the new book tour, promotional schedules, paired with strong hints for you to immediately start writing your next work.

“Y/N! Y/N” You hear and turn around to see Adam following you. Great, guess there goes your whole plan of ignoring him and continuing to repress your feelings. He catches up to you easily.

“Are you stalking me? How did you know I’d be here?” you say in an annoyed voice. You’d read Hannah’s works and you knew all about how he would just turn up in places she’d be. Now you think that you must be his new target. How were supposed to ignore him and move on when he refused to give you space.

“I googled you and I found out who your agent was, and figured there was a good chance that you’d be around her office.” He says as he keeps walking with you, your attempts to outwalk him fail because his long legs make it easy for him to keep pace with you. He keeps on talking as you say nothing.

“Look, I am so sorry for what Jessa did. That’s a bad situation but it’s over now. It has been over for a long time. I should have told you who I was to begin with, I’m sorry for that but I was afraid you’d shut me out. I was right about that part.”

“Adam, I really don’t want to be involved in your melodrama. It’s not my thing. It has never been my thing, and it will never be my thing. You must know that this can go nowhere, I’m friends with Hannah, and I know way more about your relationship than anyone should. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” You walk away. Once you’re a reasonable distance away, you look back and notice that he stopped following you. You feel bad and you kind of wanted him to keep following you, but you know it’s for the best.

After being pushed away by Y/N, Adam goes to the only person he thinks can help. And one of the people who doesn’t want to get involved: Hannah. He figures maybe Hannah can give him advice, console him or something. Now, he’s sitting her apartment again watching as Grover plays with some baby blocks. Hannah hands him a glass of milk and sits down.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, Adam? Or do I have to guess?”

“Hannah, I really fucked things up with Y/N. I saw her today and she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“Having one of your ‘exes’ drop bombshells on her in a public place is probably not a good way to start a relationship. I’m sure she’ll cool down with time. She’s really guarded, I’m her friend and I never know what she really thinks or feels. I’ll get hints from her writing but aside from that, she usually keeps it all to herself.”

“I know if I could just get her to talk to me, or really listen, things could work. Hannah, I know I’ve only known her for a short time and only scratched the surface, but I already feel things for her that I never thought I could feel. I’m going fucking insane here.”

“Look if you want to talk to her, or more precisely, talk at her: we have writing group tomorrow. Just stop by after. I’ll be there and maybe that will make her more agreeable to hear you out.”

Adam nods his head and thinks that may work, or it may make Y/N think he’s more a stalker than she already does. He supposes that’s a risk he’ll have to take. He can’t get her off of his mind.

“But before we agree to go through with this, are things really over with you and Jessa? Because I’m not going out on a limb to get my friend to give you another chance if you’re going to run back to Jessa in a few months after your first fight.”

“It’s really over, I let it continue for too long anyway. I told her that we had no real connection and I never want to see her again. I’m pretty sure she’s skipped town like she always does when she’s fucked things up.”

“I’m holding you to that Adam. I’m doing this because you deserve to be happy too. I meant that when I told you at my party. I also think you and Y/N could be really happy together, but she is very stubborn so you’ll have to deal with that.” Adam can’t help but laugh at that. Both Hannah and Jessa were extremely stubborn and so was he. He knew he could work with stubborn.

You pull your jacket up closer around your neck as the wind blows and gives you a slight chill. You listen to Hannah go on and on about her current life dramas (something about a girl she knew from undergrad who’s been published, you think) and about how she worries about Grover. At least being around Hannah gets you out of your own head for a while as you were instantly sucked into her issues. When you look up, you see Adam walking your way. He must really be stalking you. You grit your teeth in response. Hannah speaks first.

“Hi, Adam!” Adam grumbles something in response to her as he focuses on you instead.

“Y/N, will you please just listen to me. We can talk over dinner or something. Whatever you want to do. If you never want to see me again after that, I’ll stay away.” Adam begs. You desperately try to look away. You can feel Hannah watching you, and you wonder why she is being so quiet about this. It’s her ex-boyfriend, begging you to spend time with him. Her silence is then broken as she turns to face you.

“Look, Y/N, just go to dinner with him. Even if you don’t want to, it may be the only way to get him to leave you alone.”

“Are you sure it’s okay with you? It’s not weird for you, or anything?”

“It’s totally fine. Adam and I are friends now. You and I are friends. I want you to go. Go, and have fun.”

Hannah waves you away and she goes in the other direction, leaving you and Adam alone. You look at Hannah as she walks away, then set your gaze back on Adam, “Fine. One dinner. Take me to a place that still serves breakfast. Breakfast food is my favorite, in case you care to know. And you have to promise to leave me the fuck alone after this if I ask you to.”

“Pinky promise.”

Adam nods, and offers you his pinky. You shake your head and start walking. Every time you think you have him figured out, you learn something about him that throws you for a loop. You and Adam make your way to a small diner in his part of Brooklyn. Neither of you talk along the way, but the tension can be felt in the air. The diner is certainly not what you were expecting at all. Adam said it’s one of his favorites, and you could see why. It looked homey, like the type of place you could find in any small town in America. It was a nice change from the normal tempo of New York’s restaurants. You order coffee, and a breakfast platter of bacon, and pancakes. Adam orders biscuits and gravy. When the waitress goes to the next table, you raise your eyebrows at Adam and say, “So start talking. Make me understand your past relationships and why I should give you a chance. Because I really don’t understand this insanity.”

He recounts his history with Hannah, the start as fuck buddies, and how that blossomed into a relationship. You’re shocked to learn that he was hit by a car while trying to get away from Hannah after she decided she didn’t want him to move in and blindsided him with the news at Jessa’s surprise wedding. She had left those details out of her writing. He talks about a girl named Natalia that he briefly dated who called him out in public but he probably deserved it, the next tale is him helping Hannah with her OCD, followed by his first role on Broadway, and Hannah’s unilateral decision to go to Iowa. Then he gets to a woman named Mimi Rose from Hannah’s time in Iowa and how she dumped him, and he gets to Jessa. You ask him to sum up his emotions for both of them. You can’t help but worry that he’ll one day go back to Jessa or Hannah, and if you’re going to move forward in anyway, you need to know his feelings. You sat and listened to quietly until now, and you were entitled to one question.

“Can you tell me how you feel about both of those relationships now?” You finally ask in a voice that’s soft, not combative.

“What Hannah and I had was real and intense. Because of the intensity, I think we both held on longer than what was healthy, or at least, I did. I assumed what if it was real, it meant it was forever. I liked that she needed me, and she’s a bit self-centered so as soon as I did my own thing, she checked out. We both were attached to ‘us’ for the wrong reasons and ultimately kept each other from growing.”

“I actually understand that. It’s easy to think that because you feel something real it can’t go away or change. And it’s understandable that the intensity of your feelings can blind you to reality. Happens to people all of the time.”

“Has it happened to you, too?”

“Since you’ve been honest about this, I’ll be honest too. Yes, there was a guy I fell for, hard. We were on-again, off-again. It was real love: passionate, poetic, and raw, et cetera. It didn’t work out, we were always on different pages, but for the longest time I thought it would somehow last, that somehow it would all work out in the end. Then once I was outside of it for long enough, I realized it wasn’t healthy and you can love someone deeply and they can still not be the love of your life, or the one you’re meant to end up with. Tell me about Jessa.”

“Jessa and I bonded over our addictions right after Hannah dumped me. We understood each other and we both wanted to screw over Hannah. We encouraged each other’s bad habits; it was like when two fucking hurricanes meet. Or fire and powder as Shakespeare would say. I mistook our similarities for compatibility. It was like seeing yourself in another person and it seemed right for a while, but I was really seeing all the worst parts of myself being reflected back at me. I ended our relationship a long time ago but she would turn up at my place, and I would let her stay, regret it, then the cycle would repeat. I let her stay because it was easier than finding something real, or something good with someone else.”

“And it was easier than being alone, right?” He looks at you and nods. You feel the warmth of the back of his hand gently brush yours. Still feels like electricity as it had when he touched your knee that night in the bar. You find your hand moving towards his without permission. The waitress then sits down the check in between you and that action breaks the spell, you move your hand away swiftly.

“So what are you guys now then?”

“Nothing now, we’re completely over. I told her I never want to see her again that night at Hannah’s party after what she did. She’s skipped town like she normally does once she’s ruined someone’s life.”

“How do you know that you won’t end up in the same cycle again with Jessa or Hannah?”

“Because I only want you. I know what better is now.”

“Well my opinion is still the same. I don’t want that drama and I won’t ruin my friendship for a man. But maybe one day it will work out. I’ll stay open to that possibility, just not now. I mean we can still talk and stuff, just no relationship.” He walks you back to your apartment, your shoulders can’t help but bump into each other along the way. He begins singing some ridiculous song that he said he had to sing once at an audition. When you arrive at your building, you turn back to him and give him a weak smile.

“See you around, Adam.”

“See ya around, kid.”

You’re running later than what you’d like, but it’s a Saturday morning so you decide that it’s not that big of a deal. As you exit your building, you see a tall, broad shouldered man with dark hair leaning against the gate. You think he looks a lot like Adam from behind but you think it can’t be him. Adam would have no reason to be here. The man turns around when he hears you approach.

“Adam, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, obviously. What are you doing today?”

“Just errands…what is your deal? Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“You know what. Waiting outside my building to see me.”

“I happen to really fucking like you and I want to spend time with you. I want to know more about you and you said we could still talk,” he informs you in an exasperated voice as he moves his hands to emphasize his point.

“I’m not interested in anything romantic. I just can’t do that. I can’t sacrifice who I am. But we can be friends, I suppose. And I did say we could talk… You can join me if you promise to behave.”

“Scout’s honor”

“Were you even a scout?” He laughs and shakes his head no. The two of you begin your day. You go to the grocery store where you learn that he really loves milk for some reason, and you tell him that you have no domestic skills at all as you pick up some microwave dinners. You buy yourself a bouquet of flowers, then he pulls out one bloom and puts it behind your ear so it rests against your hair. When you’re looking around at a market, he mentions again that he can make furniture. You sit down at a little café and you each grab a quick sandwich. Then he asks you why you ghostwrite when you’re already successful.

“As a matter of fact, I happen to ghostwrite because it gives me a change of pace, and a way to get out of my own head for a while. It’s a great cure for writer’s block. It also pays well and I happen to like the supplemental funds in my bank account…Now I can ask you about your career since you opened up the door.” You say as you take a bite.

“That is how a conversation typically works, Y/N…SHIT! They put mustard on my sandwich.”

You ignore his outburst and continue with your question, “How do you choose your roles? You clearly don’t do traditional or mainstream.”

“I look for something that makes me feel something, something that’s real. You know the kind of thing that people can watch, feel it deep down, and it stays in their minds for a while. For me, that is art, and isn’t that the point of it all?” You ponder that answer for a minute before moving on.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

He thinks about his answer for a minute he leans in towards you as he reveals, “To live a life that’s meaningless, to sell myself out.”

Wow, you weren’t expecting him to go that deep, you lean in, putting your elbows on the small table in front of you and look at him to decipher if he was being a sarcastic ass or being serious. His hands shake your arms and he looks you straight into your eyes with his amber ones as they bore into you, he adds, “What’s your biggest fear, kid?”

“Kid? Are you ever going to explain that nickname? I fear failure more than anything. I also fear that one day I’ll wake up, be old, and realize that I’ve never did all things I wanted to do and it’s too late.”

“Then make sure you do all of those things now.”

You slowly make your way back to your apartment building as the two of you chitchat the whole way, you don’t want the conversation to end. You enjoy Adam’s presence more than you would ever openly admit. Today was a really good day. When you get to your door, Adam catches you off-guard by leaning in and gently kissing your forehead. He then turns and walks away. You’re half infuriated that he kissed you, thereby breaking the friend thing you’d agreed on, and the other half of you wanted to melt into him or chase after him for a real kiss. Instead, you turn the door into your apartment.

You feel Adam’s cock thrusting into you from behind, his pelvis grinding into your ass, while you’re on your hands and knees below him. His finger crush into your hips so deep that you’re sure that you’ll have bruises there for the next few days. Then as one hand remains on your hip, the other hand slaps your ass with a whack! You can’t help but moan and ask for another one, harder than the first. He switches hands and slaps the other side of your ass. You can feel your orgasm building as the pleasure increases and you feel your hips buck back into him as his hips slam into yours, forming a rhythm. You hear him groan in your ear, and it sounds delicious. He reaches his hand down to play with your clit, and you moan loudly and place your hand over his as you rock into his cock and hand. Your climax is moments away and you can feel your muscles clench, and you swear you can taste the pleasure.

Then you wake up, alone in your bed. You’re dripping wet from your dream, and you have your thighs pressed together for some friction.

Jesus

, you think, you need to get this out of your system. Isn’t it enough that Adam has taken over your waking thoughts, but now he’s taken over your dream conscious as well? You knew you shouldn’t have gone to dinner with him, you knew this would happen. You were falling for him, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

@og-selene @shesakillerkween

#adam sackler x reader #adam sackler #adam sackler smut #hbo girls #girls hbo #girls fanfiction #lena dunham

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make-it-mavis · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Entry #18)

(cw: vomiting) ----------

01/06/88 2:55 AM Hey.

Y’know what’s weird?

This is getting harder and easier at the same time.

I stayed at the edge of the forest until the arcade opened. It felt safer that way. If anyone wanted to sneak into our game and snuff me out, they’d have a tough time getting past the Surge Protector within working hours. Even still, there was the thought, how was I to know someone hadn’t somehow dodged all my booby traps, and was already waiting for me at my den?

Being paranoid sucks. I would not recommend it.

Once the quarters started rolling in, the thundering dull roar of gameplay eventually grounded me enough to breach the tree line. I bolted through the trees and reached my den, which was blessedly free of murderers, for the time being. I tore down all the curtains so no one could hide behind them, and I kept my back to a tree while I gave another real, more involved shot at using my brush.

I tried to make a pie, but just got cherry slime. I made way too many apples, oranges, and bananas. I made red strings, orange streamers, yellow confetti, red sequins, orange beads, yellow ribbons, always with the red, orange, yellow, red, orange, freakin’ yellow.

Everything about it made me sick. I felt betrayed. This was the one thing that I was supposed to be able to control, one of the few good things the Devs gave me. Now, rubbing handfuls of salt into the gaping wounds I was already nursing, they took it away, for what I preferred to think of as no reason at all. I’d find a reason if I let myself think about it, and it would not be good. The last thing I needed was more ‘not good’ things.

I’m a strong sprite, there’s no doubt about that. But that aforementioned weight on my shoulders was starting to really bear down, slowly carving hairline fractures in my bones. I wasn’t broken, yet. But I was sure as hell breaking, and there was crit all I could do to stop it. You know me, though. I’m not one to resign to fate, or whatever you’d call it. I’m a kicker and a screamer.

So, I kicked and screamed.

Threw my brush, flipped my bed, ripped my papers down, shattered my mirror, pulled out clumps of hair and just screamed, just like in Fix-it’s apartment. I wanted to purge all the panic, rage, and desperation, and I wanted it to be easy.

That method usually works. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t this time. It didn’t really have time to. It actually… almost made things a lot worse, I guess.

I was so loud, the gamer at controls heard me.

After I’d been screaming for a couple minutes, I had the absolute pixels scared out of me by deafening beats on the side of our cabinet, courtesy of Litwak. It sure shut me up, I can tell you that. I fell right on my ass and held my breath.

Way off, I heard Litwak say, “And… all better! Some of these older games can really start singin’ sometimes. Lemme know if there’s an encore, huh?”

Then, some kid’s voice giggled, “Thanks, Mr. Litwak!”

I got us smacked. Maybe that should have bothered me more than it did -- after all, that could only have added to my ‘danger to the game’ allegations. The Nicelanders would definitely go around saying that I’d gotten an Out of Order sign all ready to be taped to the screen after that. But there was hardly anything I could do anymore that wouldn’t have been incriminating in their eyes.

No, what bothered me was what he said. About how we were one of the ‘old games.’ I guess we’re the old games by default, now, with this wave of shiny newcomers being plugged in. But the way he said it just really made me think of how unfair it all is. All the first-generation Litwak’s Family Fun Centre games bust their bits for years to keep the quarters flowing, but hey, none of that matters once something new comes along. Like Roadblasters. I remembered all the grief I’d seen you go through once that flashy eyesore started leeching your ‘loyal fans’ -- and the very same giant wastoid who plugged it in now had the nerve to call games like mine, and by extension, yours, ‘these older games’? My gut burned with so much spite, I wanted to go break through the screen and rip out his moustache.

Instead, I threw up in my laundry barrell. Somehow, less satisfying.

Once most of the chaos in my head had settled to more flexible levels, and after I’d been dry-heaving my feelings for a solid five minutes, I had a decision to make. The longer I stayed in my den, all alone, the more dread crept back into me. I wanted so badly to be able to be on my own, where no one could see how hard I was having to fight to keep it together, but that was just impossible. I couldn’t turn my back to the darkness. I could barely close my eyes. It felt like the worst kind of pathetic, like a scared little kid needing to sleep with the lights on. But there was no negotiating it -- I needed company. Real bad.

It didn’t take long for me to decide where to go. I was, by no means, in love with the idea, but I didn’t have much of a choice. After all, now that I was no longer speaking to Fix-it, there was only one other non-Nicelander left. Whether or not he’d kick me out on sight remained to be seen.

I stuffed my bag full of notebooks, slung my guitar over my shoulder, and wrapped a few things from my hoard (including a bucket) in a big makeshift blanket-sack, along with as many pillows as I could fit in. All the pillows in the world would not save me from those bricks, but one has to try.

I also found your scarf and goggles. You know. The burned ones.

I’d kept them, of course, but I’d just been… ignoring them. They felt like the most pressing question of my life, and I hadn’t wanted to face them again until I had answers. But, suddenly, that changed. I don’t know how to describe why, right now. All I know is, when I wore them around my neck, it felt... right. In the most terrible way.

I almost never take them off, now.

Anyway, once all had been gathered, I grabbed the knot of the sack, and like the dull, flightless bird I’d become, I started trudging towards the most awkward series of sleepovers in my life.

Also known as the dump.

I didn’t bother waiting for the arcade to close, or even for the game to end, before crossing the map. The gamers seeing me wouldn’t do any damage -- quite the opposite, really. They love me in short spurts. That is, they love the idea of me.

Once I stepped into the light of the screen, they had their usual little freak out.

“Woah, hey, what’s that!?”

“Get it, get it!”

I paused. Being on my way to cross behind the building, I was out of their playing range, but it’s not like they could tell, with their crummy depth perception. They puppeted Fix-it over, ‘til his long shadow almost touched my feet, and he looked over his shoulder as much as he could, straining to smile. The gamers mashed the fix button and bounced him around. Bing bing bing bing bing.

“I can’t get it--”

“Jump on it!”

“I am jumping on it! It’s like, in the background, or something.”

“Oh my god, look at Felix’s face. He’s looking at it. What the hell is it?!”

“Looks kinda like a little pink Felix?”

Always and forever with the Dev-damned pink. Not to dig on pink, but it’s so obviously salmon. What’s the point of being 16-bit if the colorblind gamers only see in 8?

I kept moving. The scene felt too familiar, you know. They kept up their insistent twittering ‘til I emerged on the other side of the building. I heard Fix-it hopping around in the foreground again, but I didn’t stop to look. I just carried on to the dump. I’d done the game enough of a favor -- after all, even after I’d left the light of the screen, the gamers were still in a tizzy, jamming in quarters to try to figure out how to get me back.

“I’ve sank a fortune into this game, and I’ve never seen that before.”

“Was it some kind of Easter Egg, you think? How did I unlock it?!”

And so on.

I climbed up the bricks, and I make a point of saying ‘climbed’ here, because the old pile has really grown over the past five years, and I never really thought about it too much until I couldn’t fly anymore. The wrecker’s beloved stump sat flat against the ground, once, but now it’s easily higher than two of me. I set my stuff down a little ways behind it, looked up to see both Fix-it and Wreck-it giving me the side-eyes through gameplay, and pushed together a brick pile big enough to duck behind and gain some semblance of privacy.

I honestly don’t remember how I spent the rest of that day, until closing. I can’t have done anything too interesting. Waited, stewed, debated, panicked, threw up, waited some more. Something like that.

Waited, waited, waited.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #original character #homesick #turbo

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fangirlspammer · 4 years

Text

Journey to the Past pt. 1

Hi readers! So after reading and falling in love with each one of @regal-roni and @jpncis09 fanfics I just had to dabble in it myself. I haven't decided where all of this is going yet, but I hope you enjoy what I have so far.

I also want to warn that the first part might be sensitive to some readers as it mentions rape and abuse. The whole story will not be like that

Jack cried out in fear as she was pushed against the brick wall. Her face slammed against it and she could feel her skin tear against the rough bumps. She tried to fight him off, but she couldn't. He held her hands behind her back as he began to undress her. She sobbed and pleaded with him not to do this, but he wasn't going to hear of it. He pulled her head back by her hair and slammed the side of her face against the brick again. She could taste blood and she began to feel weak. Suddenly she was being thrown against a dumpster, her face hitting the corner, before she landed on a pile of garbage bags. She looked up, her vision blurry, and saw the man's figure hovering over her. She placed her hands on his chest, a sorry attempt to push him away, but it didn't help. She felt him pushing her legs apart with his knee and ripping her underwear. She kept begging him to stop, but he wouldn't hear of it. Her only hope was that somebody would hear her cries, but her voice had weakend. A sharp cry escaped her bloodied lips as he pushed all of himself inside of her in one painful motion and began to rape her.

The rest of the night had been a blur. She was found the next morning by a woman who lived in the apartment complex the alley was behind. An officer came to the rescue and had taken her to the hospital, but she didn't remember much of that either. 'Is there someone we can call?' there had been no one. Her mother had kicked her out right out of high school, no thanks to her mother's abusive boyfriend. She had been living out of her old beat up '72 Chevy Vega station wagon, that she had bought with money from working in a diner throughout high school, for the past year. Parking near that alley way had been a mistake, but it was all she could manage at the time.

After an overnight stay in the hospital she had managed to get back to her car and find a new place to park. She drove around for weeks, from City to city, odd job after odd job. Nothing ever seemed to last. She had managed to afford a hotel room every once in awhile to shower and take care of business, but other than that she spent money on clothes and a blanket for the cold winter nights that began to pick up. As luck would have it one night she parked outside of an army recruiters office, and for the rest of that night she pondered her future and what she wanted to make of her life. She knew that she never wanted to feel as hopeless as she had a few weeks ago, again. She wanted to be able to stand up for herself and for others. She glanced in her review mirror, at herself, covered in stitches. That man had really done a number on her, but she was starting to heal after a month. What did she have to lose? There was nothing to hold her back. No family, no money, no job or lousy boyfriend. After all this time looking for an out and a way to avenge herself, maybe she was staring it in the face this whole time.

The next morning came and she didn't waste a single moment. She watched as a recruiter unlocked the door and flipped the sign to read 'OPEN'. She opened the car door and made her way inside until she was standing at the man's desk.

"I...I'd like to fill out an application," she stated nervously. Her brow wrinkled as she considered that maybe those weren't the right choice of words. "I mean I...I'd like to join the army," she corrected and bit her lip nervously only to be met with a sharp pain. Her stitches. She swallowed back her nerves and took a deep breath.

"Name?" The man asked and gestured towards the empty chair.

It took her a moment to realize that he was telling her to take a seat. "Sloane. I, uh, Jacqueline Sloane," she repeated. Get a grip, Jack, she thought. "I'm sorry, it's been a long month," she admitted quietly.

The man looked up and saw the cuts on her face. He nodded slowly and wrote something down. "Bar fight?" He asked, only half joking.

"No," she shook her head and rubbed her wrists nervously. Did she have to tell him? She couldn't even admit to herself what had happened, now she had to admit it to a stranger? "I, uh...it wasn't a fight. Not really," she whispered and looked to her shoes. "Look, I..I just want to join the army. I need to do something, and this...this would be good for me," she looked back to him. He started writing again. What was this? A shrinks office?

"I'll need you to take some basic tests."

"Tests?"

He nodded. "Drug tests," he answered simply, "and I'll need you to give us permission to run a thorough background check."

"Oh," she nodded, a bit relieved it wasn't a written test. Her state of mind was not prepared for that. "Of course, I have nothing to hide."

The man nodded and handed her some paperwork. "I'll need you to fill this out and we will review it. We will need to take some blood samples and run some tests. That along with the background check will take a few days to process. If all is clear then we will get you into training," he explained and watched the young woman fidget nervously. He furrowed his brow and watched as she ran her hand along the cuts on her face.

She stopped her movements when she caught the recruiter looking at her. She bit her lip and stopped fidgeting. "A-alright," she nodded and took the pen he offered. She began to look over the paperwork and filled it out before she stopped. "I, ehm... I don't have an address," she admitted. "My car," she gestured outside to the dusty station wagon in the front. "That's where I live."

"You can just skip that for now," he assured her and gave a warm smile. He had seen people like her come in here before, and he had a soft spot for people like that. Maybe it was because he had been in her shoes before.

"Thank you," she bit her lip nervously and went back to filling out the paperwork.

A few days had passed and Jack had taken to sleeping outside of the recruiters office. During the day she would go inside and he would give her some food and water. He had been kinder to her than anybody had been in a long time. Over the past few weeks the two of them had started to get close, but neither of them had done anything about it. He was her recruiter after all and she wasn't exactly comfortable jumping into anything after what she had been through almost 2 years ago. That morning she woke up and went into the office. She was then again greeted with a donut and a little carton of milk this time.

"Morning Jenson," she smiled tiredly as she accepted the donut. "Did the results come in yet?" She took a seat and watched him look through the papers on his desk. He was unusually quiet this morning and she wondered if she had been overstepping.

"They did," he finally answered and nodded shortly. He looked up to her, but he didn't look very enthused about whatever was in her files. "Jack, I'm afraid we can't recruit you at this time," he said simply.

Jack furrowed her brow and sat up a little straighter. "What? Why not?" She looked to him curiously and then became concerned that something was wrong with her. that would have been the only reason she could think of for them to turn her down.

"Well, because you're pregnant and you should know that we can't have you join the army and go into extensive training while you're with child," he stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jack's eyes widened at his words. "I...I'm not pregnant," she shook her head. "You must be mistaken."

"I'm afraid not," he shook his head and handed her the paperwork, but she didn't accept it.

"And I am telling you that you are mistaken," she insisted, becoming upset. "I am not pregnant. There's no way I-" she stopped and tears filled her eyes when she came to the horrible realization of what had happened. "No," she whispered and swallowed hard.

"Jack?" He raised a brow and couldn't help but be concerned. "You mean...you didn't know?"

She felt tears surface and she shook her head. She stood up and bit her lip. "I need to go."

"Go where?" He stood up and walked around the desk to her. "Jack, you don't have anywhere to be. Talk to me," he frowned and hesitantly took her hand.

As his hand brushed hers she took a deep breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked down. "I.." she wanted to tell him, she really did, but she didn't know how to voice it. How did you go about telling somebody that you had been raped? How did you tell the only person who had showed any interest in you, romantically or personally, that this horrifying act had happened to you? This wasn't easy for her. "I didn't know because...because it didn't happen by my choice," she admitted and looked down. She didnt know why, but she expected him to move away from her. He only gave her hand a squeeze and lifted her chin.

"Do you mean," he paused and watched her nod slowly. He sighed and brushed his thumb along her knuckles. "That explains the cut," he looked to the nearly healed stitches on her cheek and forehead. Her lip had finally healed, but she was still hurt.

"Please," she felt her lip quiver and wiped her eyes. "There has to be a way that you're wrong," she pleaded with him. "I can't be...pregnant," her voice cracked. "How am I supposed to raise a baby...i-in that?" She pointed to her beat up car and then put her head in her hands.

"Hey," he took her hand again and pulled her closer to him. He sighed and pushed her hair back. He couldn't deny that there had been something going on between the two of them. When she had first walked in a few weeks ago she had taken his breath away, despite the cuts. He was her recruiter and so he had tried to stay professional, but after a few days he couldn't fight it anymore. Something about her was so inticing. He pulled her petite frame to his chest and hugged her close. His hand stroked her hair gently and he sighed. "It's going to be alright. If you'd like...you can stay with me," he suggested, unsure how she would take it.

"Stay with you?" She looked up to him curiously and shook her head. "I couldn't put you out like that."

"You wouldn't be putting me out, Jack," he assured her and his eyes softened. "I'd like you to stay."

Jack searched his eyes for anything resembling pity or obligation, but she found nothing. He truly wanted her to stay. "Alright, but I don't want to put you out for long. As soon as I find somewhere else I'll be out of your hair," she promised.

"Jack?" Ducky broke her silence in the observation room. He nudged her gently, watching her stare at the man in the interrogation room.

"Huh?" Jack jumped a bit and looked to Ducky as she came out of her trance.

"I asked if you knew him," he repeated and raised a brow. "Which you obviously do."

Jack nodded slowly and looked back towards the glass. She sighed and decided it would be best if she explained herself now. She opened her mouth to explain, but before any words came out the door burst open and behind it stormed in a slightly baffled Gibbs.

"He's asking for you, Jack," he eyes her carefully.

"Me?" Jack's eyes widened and she took a step back. "Why me?"

Gibbs arched his brow and didn't move his gaze. "That's what I want to know. Do you know him?"

Jack looked at Gibbs like a deer caught in headlights before she glanced over to the one way mirror. She saw the boy she once knew and swallowed hard. She didn't realize how long she had gone without answering until Gibbs snapped at her slightly.

"Jack!"

"Jenson," she crossed her arms and looked back to him. "His name is William Oliver Jenson," she sighed and he backed off. "He was my recruiter when I first joined the Army," she explained further.

"Is that all?" He waited for a response and then backed down when he saw Ducky watching them. "He asked for you and so you are going to go in there and get what we need."

"Do you think that's wise?" Ducky questioned curiously.

"If we want answers," Gibbs grumbled, jealousy dripped off his tongue despite how hard he tried to hide it.

"If you want answers you shouldn't look to me," Jack shook her head and held her hand up in protest. He glared. "Gibbs, I'm serious. We didn't end on the best of terms."

"End?" He started to delve into that but retracted and sighed. "Jack whatever happened was a long time ago. You are the only person he will talk to so go in there and get some damn answers. I'm done asking nicely," he snapped now.

Jack rolled her eyes and yanked the folders from his hands before heading out the door. "That was nice?" She muttered before the door shut. She took a deep breath before opening the interrogation room door and walking in. This was not going to be easy.

#jack sloane #jethro gibbs #slibbs #ncis cbs #leroy jethro gibbs #maria bello #jacqueline sloane #ncis fandom #ncis

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aithrauniverse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 18-Astra

Aithne’s DAD.

Was anyone who they seemed they were?

I glanced over at Aithne. Her face was angled away from me and Laila, and she wasn’t complaining about our plight one single bit. Her silence was perhaps the most frightening thing I’d ever heard.

Laila and I exchanged wary looks, and I turned to stare into the distance. There wasn’t any sign of life in sight – it was just the same wasteland we’d arrived on, and the bright magma was still bubbling as merrily as ever, as if oblivious to the death cloaking the whole place.

“Uh... should I be shielding us?” I asked.

Aithne muttered, “Can you even do it with your hands tied?”

Frowning, I flailed my hand, trying to get it to do the same motion I always did to create shields – but I simply couldn’t perform the last twist.

Beside me, Laila was muttering some gibberish under her breath, apparently trying to cast some sort of spell. Finally, she shook her head, hard. “I don’t get it. I think this place is enchanted or something.”

“But how did Aithne’s - “ I stopped myself just in time, and changed my words to, “that man get this rope out of mid-air?”

“You would probably need some sort of amulet or bracelet or charm or – oh, whatever – to get your magic to work here,” Laila reasoned.

Come to think of it, I had seen Aithne’s dad wearing a necklace, with a garnet pendant on it.

From behind me, Aithne let out some sort of hiss-growl that made her sound like a demented angel.

“Okay. So-” I began, but Aithne interrupted me.

In a flat tone that was laced with hopelessness, she told us, “Look - it’s over. We won’t be able to fight this stupidity. Look at us – no magic. Completely useless. Think that’s going to make us overpower a crazy strong seventh spirit? That also just so happened to be a combination of all the previous spirits? Nope. SO not happening.”

I turned to her, waiting till she finally met my eyes. “Aithne, remember what you told me on that bridge?” I reminded her quietly. “We WILL get through this. This is only so little. There’s so much worse after this. We. Can. Do. This. But we won’t be able to if you don’t bring that stubborn streak of yours back.”

“Yeah, together, we’ll be better than any spirit that’s so busy—“ Laila rolled her eyes, “— that he’s late to his own fight.”

Aithne stared at us for so long, my eyes began to water.

At long last, the corners of her mouth curled up ever so slightly.

“Alright then.” she whispered, then repeated, in a louder and firmer voice, “Alright then!”

The three of us straightened our backs, and, as one, turned to face whatever lay before us, waiting for the spirit to show itself.

Right on cue, a firework of darkness, outlined by a faint trail of orange flame – it made the atmosphere so. Much. Hotter! - exploded before our very eyes.

As sweat trickled down my back, the shadow disappeared, taking the fire – and heat – with it.

I braced myself, thinking that what it would reveal would be something really horrible – I mean, what could you expect from a spirit that’s darkness, fear, arrogance, death, manipulation, ice and fire all mashed up together?

Yet nothing, nothing could have prepared me for what stood before us.

It was – it was – a swirling mass of shadows, with glowing veins running through all the darkness, some of them ice blue and some of them fiery red. That wasn’t all. It had a skull – a... charred skull – for a head, and as for eyes... Once I saw them, I averted my gaze immediately, feeling my own eyes burn. They were glowing, blinding, red spots – and the dots it had for pupils it had were black in its purest form. Yet under all that, I could still spot a glint of completely undiluted egotism.

That was, strangely, what scared me the most. How could any creature have such wholesome conceit in their body – and not be dead?

I could feel Laila and Aithne going slack beside me. To be honest, I felt like doing the same. But Endra’s chains flashed through my mind, and I kept my posture straight, staring at the beast.

“I see my servant has done exactly what he was supposed to.” the beast said. His voice was calm, almost sweet.

Laila hissed, “Don’t fall for his manipulative tricks. He can hypnotise us.”

The beast replied, “And I have super strong hearing as well.”

“You - “ Aithne unleashed a string of undignified words that wouldn’t look very good in a story.

An idea struck me. Pride. The beast would do anything for pride.

“So you’re going to kill us like this? Get your servant to tie us up – let him do all the dirty work for you? Or...” I paused, letting the words sink in, “do you think you’re not capable of defeating us if you returned us our powers and let us fight back?”

He inched closer, and growled. “I can defeat any bunch of puny teenagers who can’t even defend themselves from my accomplices.”

“I don’t believe you. Prove it. Or to me, you’ll forever just be a disgusting coward.” I said, doing my best to keep the tremble out of my voice.

Perhaps – perhaps we’d have a chance to win, if only he’d just let us use our powers... let us fight...

The beast growled, menace dripping from his voice as he leaned closer and bellowed, “NO ONE CAN CALL ME A COWARD! I’M THE MOST POWERFUL BEING IN ALMORIA!”

“Then prove it!” The three of us chorused in unison, Aithne and Laila finally catching on.

“Fine.” he spat at our feet, and sent a twisting shadow that undid our bonds and dropped heavy necklaces over our heads. The necklaces looked exactly the same as the one Aithne’s father was wearing.

I slipped mine over my head, and immediately trapped the three of us in a shield.

“Now you’re the one hiding. COWARD!” the monster cackled, the shimmering veins glowing even more with the words.

It sent a pulsating tendril of blackness into the shield, and no matter how quickly I added layers to the sphere, I simply couldn’t keep up with the speed of that stupid darkness as it ate its way through our shield.

Finally, Laila grabbed me and Aithne and teleported us away, into a clearing not very far from where the beast was. When she did, she put one arm around Aithne, who helped her stand upright. It obviously took out a lot of energy from her.

Panting, I set up another shield, and Aithne and I set to work thickening it, Aithne sending out tongues of fire (all while Laila still leaned on her) that I took the light from to add more layers to the bubble of light.

Meanwhile, Laila started murmuring something under her breath, and a huge brick wall dropped into place in front of us, separating us from the spirit, which had started charging to where we were. But Laila was faster, whispering gibberish as seven other walls appeared before she finally stopped to catch her breath.

The spirit gave a mighty roar. “YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO HIDE FOR LONG!” From the crackling sounds in the background, the glowing, spiderwebbed cracks in the stone-red brick and the instant increase in temperature, I guessed that it was using fire to burn the walls down.

We didn’t have much more time.

“Look - for the previous spirits, we could take on them one-on-one, which means that each of us can tackle the various abilities it has. Which means, Aithne battles the ice and fear, I’ll fight the darkness and look for ways to make use of its arrogance, and Laila will have to bring us back when it tries manipulation.” I told them, and Laila nodded (though hesitant).

“Uh... are you forgetting the fire?” Aithne interceded, and the paleness of her face suggested that she already knew my answer.

Hating myself for saying it, I whispered, “You’re the only one with the fire. Look - “ I waved my arms, and a blue light bubble appeared around Aithne, “ - when you need this, snap your fingers. Turning it off works the same way. It should protect you from the heat – its light reflected off the ice in Antarctica - and if you need to thicken it just snap both fingers. It will absorb light from around you and add another layer.”

Frowning, I formed a similar light bubble around Laila and myself as well. “I think it’s better for all of us to have it.”

Laila nodded. “Thanks. Oh, and if you feel him manipulating you...” she snapped her fingers, and a ring appeared on Aithne’s and my index fingers, “press the gem on that and it will teleport you far away from him. Don’t worry, you’ll still be within sight of all of us.”

Fidgeting, Aithne mumbled, “I guess I should include my own protective charm, then.” she circled a hand above Laila and my heads, and something warm seemed to form in my palm. Opening it, I saw a lotus with bright orange petals bloom, burning bright in the darkness. Looking away, Aithne said quietly, “My dad taught me how to do that. If you ever need fire, place one of its petals in your mouth. The rest of the flower will burn away— no, Laila, I do not know what it tastes like, probably not like chilli sauce— and voila, you can control fire. It lasts for around an hour only, though. I have no idea how long this battle is going to be, but hopefully it’s enough.” Nodding, I stuffed mine into my pocket.

With that, the beast let out one final grunt as the last of the brick walls crumbled into ash before us, and in a burst of the flames, he appeared, looking even more menacing than before.

Aithne muttered, “Hey, Astra, looks like your blue shield works.” True enough, I couldn’t feel the blasting heat of the flames – it was nothing more than a trickle of warmth.

The beast snarled, “Your silly charms won’t work against me, I, who have spent the last few decades perfecting myself to hold all the powers of the world!”

“Yet you left out the power of kindness and light,” I retorted.

“Oh, shut up, little girl – those are pathetic and will never work well in a full, all-out war of justice!” he roared, whipping its skull head around wildly. After a few seconds, he stopped, and fell still, ice filling the air as he whispered,

“Now, why don’t you lift that shield and let the fight begin?”

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years

Text

She (ii)

Part one.

Harry was sure a part of him died when he opened the massive delivery package by his porch that afternoon.

It was the things that he left at Y/N’s apartment. His pants, his toothbrush, his books, even the pictures Y/N used to hang on her ceiling and walls. Everything that had anything to do with him was now returned to him. But what really hit him hard was the Fleetwood Mac record at the bottom of the pile—the one that he gave her on the day she finally let him into her world.

He remembered one morning, as they laid naked on bed, she asked him why he was so persistent to talk to her those cold December nights.

“Did you like my apartment that much?” she’d ask, fingers playing with Harry’s curls. “You could just browse the internet for this kind of aesthetic, you know.”

He smiled as Mystified from the record he gave her played in the background. “You know ’s not about your place, love.”

“Just doesn’t make sense to me. I mean you hated me...” she could feel the rapid increase of her heartbeat remembering those painful memories of him.

“Hey, I never hated you. I was...” he paused and she nodded since she understood the whole ‘lovelorn Harry Styles’ ordeal. “And I didn’t think I had thanked you properly for keeping me alive that night.”

“You are very heavy, you know that?” she poked his nose.

Harry returned the gesture with a kiss on her nose. “The universe has obviously set us up. I mean, of all places, I ended up at that cafe and I felt extremely familiar when I woke up here… Like a strong feeling that I’d known you for so long just from your stuff—I don’t get those feelings very often so I can’t just brush it off now, can I?”

She giggled. “You don’t believe in those things.”

“I do,” he tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear and stared at her eyes and her lips. “I’m just glad I didn’t miss it.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “Because, listen, this record really is beautiful!”

Harry couldn’t stop replaying that peaceful morning in his head. He could still remember the way she curved her lips and the smell of her hair, everything was still crystal vision for him.

“What is it, H?” the silvery sound of the woman that he chose disrupted his flashbacks.

“Nothing, just some things from an old friend,” he answered quickly, closing the box and bringing it inside the house.

The girlfriend pressed a quick peck on his lips and whispered something about shower, a blow, and some job, but he didn’t really pay attention. His eyes were glued to one of the pictures peeking through the box lid. It was a new year party at his friend’s house. He was tipsy but he could still remember how he pulled her close by her waist and kissed her when midnight struck. She didn’t say anything about the kiss the next day because obviously she thought he was too inebriated to remember. But he remembered their first kiss, he always did.

She was just that kind of girl. The one that never demanded any explanation from him. But now, he wished she’d done the other way around. He wished she’d screamed at him, slapped him, or even punched him in his face. Yet, she didn’t.

The night Harry left her for the girl of his dreams, nothing but guilt crawled inside him. He was so sure that if he didn’t chase his dream girl, it would only cause more pain for him and Y/N. He would’ve pretended that he loved her for God knows how long and it would only snowball into so much lies and affectations. He knew he should’ve picked some other time, but he couldn’t just miss his dream girl that he hadn’t seen for almost a year. He had to chase her down while he had the chance, even if it meant leaving Y/N right there and then.

When he came to Y/N’s place the next morning after spending the night with his dream girl, he was prepared to accept her rage. Instead, she just nodded when he ended the whole thing. She only said a faint ‘I understand.’ without a single fight. It would’ve been easier if Y/N was angry at him. It would’ve been simpler to frame him as the bad guy. But with that weak ‘I know.’ when he said that he couldn’t just let his love go, Harry began to question his own decision.

Sure his perfect girl didn’t really understand his own music like Y/N did but relationship was not some full-blown similarity contest, it’s how two people compromised on differences, he always said to himself. Sure his perfect girl didn’t laugh at his jokes like Y/N did, but maybe he really wasn’t that funny, he always said to himself. Sure his perfect girl didn’t spoon him when he felt overwhelmed or caress him lovingly when he had a rough day or pepper him with kisses when he got home or playfully tickle him when he fell asleep while watching a movie or…

“Harry?” her voice snapped him back into reality. “You’ve been standing there for half an hour. What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely,” he nervously answered without thinking.

She shrugged at his response and continued talking about some news she heard from her manager about him being the performer at the most anticipated fashion show where she’d also walk at. She was excited and Harry just smiled, wishing he could wipe out Y/N from his memories and be fully present for the woman that he loved.

Y/N didn’t really think about Harry. Well, she didn’t really want to think about Harry but it was just beyond her control. He was everywhere. He was sleeping on her couch, he was sipping coffee by the kitchen counter, he was putting his shoes on, he was talking to her plants, he was always there. And she just couldn’t drive the vivid memories of him away even when she had removed his traces off her place.

She was busy without a doubt. She finally was able to get her old life back with even bigger shots. Yet somehow, tears just rolled down her cheeks with no warning—right in the middle of nowhere, she would suddenly feel the pain throbbing in her chest and she couldn’t help but cry.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?!” one of the models asked her in panic when she accidentally bumped into her sobbing in the dressing room.

“Oh, this is embarrassing! Don’t worry, it happens all the time. My eyes are very sensitive,” she lied.

It wasn’t her eyes. It’s just her. She could watch some comedy special at home and laugh so hard that it turned into weeping. So much weeping that she lost sleep over and over again. She always told herself to stop crying as if it was a crime to shed a tear over her unrequited love, but the prominent swell on her eyes could never conceal her hurting.

Where did I go wrong? she’d constantly ask herself. Was she not caring enough? Was she not understanding enough? Was she not giving him enough space? Was she not beautiful enough? The questions kept haunting her and she didn’t know the answers. It’s like when Harry left that morning, he ripped a part of her heart and left a big hole inside her. And that hole had now become a void of echoes, screaming how not good enough she was.

After all, she really did love him. She loved him so much that when she unexpectedly saw him and her again that day on set, she could only turn away.

He looked just as surprised as she was when he walked into the magnificent floral set. She looked thinner and exhausted, but still captivating in her simple white tee and blue flare jeans. It broke his heart a little when she turned away.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself for even thinking that way about her when his girlfriend was right next to him. He said it himself that he’d chosen his dream girl over Y/N so he couldn’t understand why he suddenly craved to see Y/N closer, to touch her, to be with her again.

Neither Harry nor Y/N knew that they would be working together again. It was a massive pre-show photoshoot and there were so many models and crew members involved, of course the people in charge wouldn’t inform who did what in details. She was one of the many photographers too, so it was one crowded set.

On top of that, not many knew that Harry and Y/N were a couple for quite a long time, not even his girlfriend. Hell, she didn’t even seem to remember the ‘rude photographer’ that she used to talk about in interviews. Moreover with Harry’s naturally friendly impression, no one really assumed they were a thing even when they were seen together a handful times before. So everyone was really having fun with this cheeky flowery session when Y/N was actually dying inside.

“Sorry, could you please change that?” she asked one of the assistants when he played Rolling Stones’ She’s A Rainbow, all the while capturing the gorgeous brunette with hazel eyes.

Harry felt a sharp sting spreading inside his body as he knew damn well that’s the song they used to dance to, the one that he said reminded him of her. He even set it as her personal ringtone and she always blushed every time he sang it to her. It just carried so many sweet memories only they knew.

“Please, don’t. I really love this song!” his girlfriend said to the assistant and immediately turned to Harry with the biggest smile on her face. “H, you sang this to me on our first date, remember?”

She felt paralyzed after hearing that. Just as she thought she couldn’t hurt more, he had to take away the good memories from her too and turned it into another reason to convince herself that she was nothing but a substitute.

Harry noticed her subtle response even when no one else did and he could feel his inside burning. She clearly was hiding so much disappointment and he just wanted to hit himself with a brick for putting her in such misery.

Honestly, he didn’t even remember that it was his first date’s song. They went to a karaoke bar, for fuck’s sake. Of course he’d sing along, just not especially to her. But when he sang it to Y/N he meant it. Just like when he kissed her and made love to her, he always meant all those. It would always be their song and he wished he could just run to Y/N and told her that it’s not true.

Y/N took a deep breath and went on the best she could. At this point, she was just trying to get through without crying. She just wanted to be professional and it really was difficult when the person who destroyed her over and over again was less ten feet away.

It didn’t take long before the coordinator screamed to escort the models and other crews into the warehouse next door, out of the blue. Something about walking and blocking and it was definitely not on their schedule.

The coordinator was sweating, dreading when he explained hurriedly to Y/N something about board of executives and sudden rehearsal review or something, and that she needed to stay put while the other photographers covered the warehouse next door. She nodded anxiously, silently worried that she might not deliver her best work with this change of plans. But then just before he left the set, he scanned the room and laid his eyes on Harry. He talked to Harry rushingly in private and within seconds, everyone left the room.

Everyone but Y/N and Harry.

Harry walked his way to Y/N, eyes not leaving hers but she didn’t reciprocate.

“Y/N,” he said lowly and he was devastated to see that she just instinctively flinched away from him, just like how human body avoided the same pain twice. “I was told to get my pictures done while they’re away.”

She nodded and cued him to get on set. He couldn’t stop staring at her quivering lips when she told him where to stand. She didn’t say much, she didn’t even try to fix his poses like she did with the models previously as if she didn’t want to touch him.

“I didn’t sing that song to her, I swear,” he cleared his throat to break the excruciating silence. “We went to a karaoke bar and that song was on.”

“It’s just a song, Harry,” her shaky voice said it all, that it was never just a song to her.

“It wasn’t,” he said to himself.

She heard that but she just sighed.

“And I didn’t—“ he stopped mid sentence as she finally looked him in the eye.

“Harry, I don’t need any of your explanations. It’s fine, I’m fine,” she quickly said before averting her gaze back to her camera.

“Are you coming to the show too?” he asked.

She just nodded.

“I’m singing that new song,” he scratched his forehead. “The one I showed you before.”

Harry didn’t know what’s gotten into him. Just less than a few months ago he left this girl in front him for the one that he loved. He chose the other girl over Y/N. But since then, instead of feeling whole he just felt incomplete.

And now that he saw Y/N again, there’s something urging him to reach her again, to feel her, to somehow make it right. He really couldn’t even comprehend his own feelings.

Why would he miss someone he’d left?

Why would he crave for someone he was certain he didn’t love?

And why did she have to act all tough when every sign of her body showed the exact opposite?

Y/N just went on capturing Harry without a single word. He really looked beautiful in that set of suits, she must admit. And she longed to be held by him again. The pain inside her chest just kept coming back now that he’s right there, in front of her, and not being hers. She just couldn’t stop wondering, was he ever hers to begin with?

It was the longest hour in her life. At one point Harry even tried to crack an old intimate inside joke they used to laugh at, which she just uncomfortably ignored. Harry himself didn’t know either why he wanted to see her laugh so badly that he ended up telling that joke, knowing damn well it would just drive her further away—why would he want to drive her even closer anyway? He really couldn’t place himself correctly when he’s near her and it’s scaring him.

She never felt more grateful when she saw everyone else came back into the set a few inconvenience minutes later. Within seconds Harry was back with his girlfriend and she was back with holding it in. To say it was a bad day for her was an understatement, it was agonizing—but it’s still not over. She would have to relive the whole experience again a few days later, during the show night where she would be backstage with everyone. And by everyone, it particularly meant Harry and the girlfriend. She felt uneasy just thinking about those two again.

Working as quickly as she could that late night to develop the roll and send it to the editor, she found herself staring at Harry’s photographs. She still subconsciously cut the rolls and hung it under ‘their’ ceiling. Just as she realized that she’s not supposed to hang it there anymore, she heard a loud knock on her door. She didn’t expect anyone, it was way too late for some visit; she was sure she was about to get robbed. She impulsively grabbed her developing tray and stood behind the door, ready to attack the uninvited guest. Slowly she opened the door and fearfully swung the tray with eyes closed while screaming an exceptionally loud ‘Help!’

“Y/N! Stop!” Harry grabbed her hands so that she’d stop hitting him and left a little chuckle. “A tray?”

For a moment, Harry felt like it was his Y/N. The one who did just the silliest things, the one with the most peculiar reflex that only he understood. For a moment, he believed it was all back to when they were together.

She jolted when she opened her eyes. The last time he stood right there was that morning when he decided to leave her. Seeing him again, in that same spot, revived the ache inside her.

“What are you doing here?” she couldn’t stop staring, not sure whether he was real or not.

Harry let go of her hands when she forcefully wiggled them out. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” she took a step back.

“I…” he scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow and closed the door. “Good night, Harry.”

“No, no. Wait,” he quickly hold the door.

He couldn’t believe history repeated itself again. Just exactly almost a year ago they were in this very position: her hating him and him trying to get to her.

But Harry really couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t think of anything else, he couldn’t even get himself to sleep next to his girlfriend, he just needed to see Y/N. He needed Y/N.

“I left her,” he blurted out.

“What?” she almost dropped her tray.

“I was so blinded… and I’m sorry it takes me this long to realize. I just…” Harry took a deep breath and look her in the eye. “I love you.”

She froze. Of course she had dreamed about this moment a few months ago. Those lonely nights where she just hoped to find him knocking at her door, telling her it was just all a misunderstanding, and that he loved her. But now, after being broken over and over again, she just didn’t know how to respond. There’s a teeny part of her that was angry—angry that it took him this long to come back to her. But most of her was afraid knowing he could easily wreck her again should she give him yet another chance.

It’s like all of her emotions just mixed altogether, all jumbled up, that she didn’t know what to do but... laugh. She laughed so hard, tears started forming by the corner of her eyes and Harry could only stare at her, disconcerted and dumbfounded.

“Y/N?” he asked calmly, trying to cover his confusion.

“You saw me earlier today…” she wiped the tears and struggled to talk in between laughters. “And just thought, ‘I’m gonna fuck her up again.’ now, do you? That’s hilarious, Harry!”

He shook his head. “No, never.”

“I’m not your fucking toy, Harry!” her laughter slowly stopped and there were only tears left.

She finally stopped laughing and slowly but surely, she couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. She just cried and her whole body shook. All those pent-up feelings she kept for so long had exploded and Harry was there to witness how much he had damaged the person he actually loved.

He just hugged her tightly and at first she tried to push him away by punching his chest but he stayed holding her tight. Then she stopped hitting him and just sank into him as if she had no energy left to even refuse him, that it took almost everything inside her to resist him. And that just showed how much she loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he kept whispering to her.

Harry still held her just as tight even when she had stopped sobbing and only had to release when she pulled away. He held her cheek but she dodged away and stepped further back instead.

“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked in despair.

And as she looked at his beautiful face, the one that she trailed with her fingers every morning, the one that she found comfort in by just staring at it, she took one deep breath.

“No,” she said as she slammed the door, leaving them in a much harder state than their rough encounter those cold December nights last year.

Part three.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry imagine #tinayoufatlarrdd

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mx-jinxous · 4 years

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Day 4: Coffee shop

Barry didn’t know what he had expected to change after the crisis, in this strange world he didn’t understand. After they defeated the Anti-Moniter, Barry had been informed by Joe that he didn’t work for CCPD anymore. He’d lost his job over not “filing” his impromptu sabbatical correctly after Savitar, from the chief not Singh, so at least he hadn’t burned a bridge with the new chief. Instead now he worked at Jitters, after Iris pulled a few strings for him with her old boss....and Barry sucked at his job. Even with super speed he sucked at making coffee and still couldn’t master what he’d been able to do before. He was so happy he was stuck on the register today, he needed a break and he was sure everyone else needed one after a week of Barry’s messes, not to mention Barry’s nightlife was strange too, still learning the layout of the new Central and the new villians.

His life wasn’t getting any easier, his body was also feeling different, like his connection to the speed force was different, but he figured that’s because an infinite number of worlds were erased from creation and now every speedster on the other earths ceased to exist. Barry sighed, his thoughts going to Jay and Joan, his parents dopplegangers. He had just met Joan, and it was like looking at his mom and dad again, he’s sure Joan would have been like a surrogate mother like Jay had become to him. He’d just gotten them in his life, but now they were gone again, just like everyone from the other earths that weren’t on earth 32. He lost Harry, Sherloque, Jessie, Ray, Leo, all the other Wells. He knew he’d never get them back, even if by some miracle some were carried over to the new earth they wouldn’t know Barry. He wished Oliver was still alive, wished he could talk to him and get some kind of pointers, feeling like that excited and scared young man that had first met Oliver Queen.

Sitting in the back breakroom, Barry sniffed, hiding his eyes as tears started to escape. He wondered if Kara, Kate, or the Legends, even Jefferson were feeling as lost and helpless as he was. It was something he couldn’t explain to the other, sure they had their memories back thanks to J’onn, but other than the other Paragons they couldn’t really feel as displaced as Barry. Deep in their subconscious they had memories that came with the new world, Barry didn’t have that luxury, he didn’t know all that changed, all he knows is that some friends were back. Iris wasn’t married to Barry, she was married to Eddie, Ronnie also back, even professor Stein was alive. Since the multiverse didn’t exist that meant that Stein hadn’t been killed by Nazi’s, instead he retired happily, Barry meaning to visit him. It was awkward with everyone on team Flash on a regular basis, Iris and Barry having to work through the awkwardness of knowing they’d been married, had slept together many times, were supposed to have Nora, but that all was gone, just a distant dream.

Barry still hasn’t figured out where he lived, his apartment he lived at before moving in with Iris being one of those things that changed with the new layout. For a while he stayed at Star, having one constant thing still in his life to keep him sane before he took refuge at Joe’s house, luckily his old room the same as it always had been. “Hey Barry, you feeling okay?” Barry jumped, looking back to see his Boss Taylor looking at him worried, having given him many of those looks after his sudden change in work performance. She thought it was all because of an injury from a meta attack that Barry had apparently made up before in prime timeline.

“Hey, yah. Just a long week.” Barry said, not looking as he wiped his eyes away as fast as he could at a normal pace.

“If you need a couple days off I understand. They won’t count against you.”

“I couldn’t leave you guys hanging.” Barry stood, catching a glimpse of his puffy red eyes. “It’s fine.” Barry said, the “It has to be” staying silent.

“If you’re sure, just promise me if you need to leave you’ll let me know.”

“I will.” Barry said, Taylor nodding as she turned and walked out of the breakroom. Barry mourned the memories of their work relationship, of all his co-workers because he doesn’t know these people, other Barry does. Taking a deep breath Barry walked out, getting behind the register and starting to take orders to help get the line down.

Once Barry had gotten the line down he was out on the floor, cleaning the tables, wishing he could just speed through all this. As he cleaned one table he felt eyes on him, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, the speedster feeling a hand touch his elbow. Turning Barry backed away from the person, or people he should say, the young speedster’s eyes widening when he saw Leonard Snart and Hartley Rathaway both looking at him with worried eyes. “You a little jumpy, Scarlet?”

“Snart? I-I thought you were...with the Legends.” Barry said, deciding not to mention pre-crisis Snart’s fate. He looked like he had the last time Barry had seen him, helping him with King Shark, but he seemed to have lighter features. Hartley, Hartley looked different, his hair was a bit longer, a wavy side bang slightly obstructing his eye. He no longer had his big framed glasses on, his eyes clear of any cover, and Barry’s sure he’s never really looked into the metas eyes. His eyes were a sky blue, deep enough to fall in if you dared to stare long enough, Barry tearing his gaze away to avoid it.

“Snart...huh?” Len looked a little taken back, but collected himself immediately. “I haven’t been with the Legends in years, I promised I’d stay away from the band of merry men...we haven’t seen you for a bit.”

“Called and you didn’t answer.” Hartley said, folding his arms in the way Barry knew he did to protect himself, or least how he had on Earth 1. Maybe they were both possibly on Team Flash now, just waiting to be called back to the field.

“Look, can we just fight this out on the field in our nightlife gear. I’m trying to work right now.” Barry grumbled, folding his arms, needing one less headache.

“Fight? Is that what we’re doing?” Hartley said, now both of them on defense.

“Care to elaborate about what our fight is on this time Scarlet?” Len asked, Barry sighing and shaking his head. This new life was exhausting, his body feeling aged as he could only guess what they meant.

“I don’t know, whatever you're here to talk about. I don’t feel like dealing with the Rogues Gallery at work while I’m trying to make a latte.”

“Rogues? You know damn well the Rogues are dormant. Someone going on their own accord I can talk to, but don’t take it out on us.” Len said, Hartley pressing his lips together as he tried to hold back his tongue.

“We’re just trying to figure out why you haven’t been home or taking a call from us in over a week. Figured you were busy, but I can see you’re just ignoring us.” Hartley mumbled, looking at the ground, Len wrapping an arm around his waist, Barry getting even more confused. “Look, if we can talk it out we’d like to know what’s going on in your head. Don’t shut us out again.”

“If we’ve done something Barry let us know and we’ll talk about it...I don’t want to break up.” Barry froze, staring at the two as the wheels in his head began to turn. Break up means they’re together, like romantically together. Barry’s stomach felt like it was going to drop, the realization crashing down on top of him like a brick wall. The reason why he couldn’t find a place with his name on it was probably because it was under one of their names, and they were dating. Air seemed thin as he turned, trying his best to run out of Jitters at human pace, catching Taylor’s eyes as he rushed out. The woman gave a small nod of understanding as Barry ran out and into the alleyway, flashing away as he heard Hartley and Len yelling after him.

Barry didn’t know where he flashed to, only that he was standing in front of a plain white door, hyperventilating as he banged on the door. It was thrown open to show Caitlin and an angry Ronnie, which melted when he saw Barry was a mess. Pulling him inside Caitlin sat him on the couch, trying to talk him down from his breakdown, Ronnie walking out of the room and returning with water as Caitlin managed to calm him down. After a few minutes of silence and tears, Barry drank the glass of water before he spoke.

“Sorry for barging in, I didn’t even know who’s door I was at.” He asked, curled up on the couch with the two lovers sitting beside him.

“It’s fine Bare, but what happened?” Ronnie asked, gripping Caitlin’s hand.

“More post crisis stuff, it’s just been a lot.”

“Want to talk about it?” Caitlin asked, glancing at Barry worriedly, the speedster shaking his head.

“I just don’t know who I am anymore. This earth-prime Barry is not me, I’m earth 1 no matter how hard I try to change with this new world.”

“We get it, you’re lost and need guidance.” Ronnie said, looking at the younger man that had become like a brother to him. “Probably on some stuff we can’t help you with, but Kara’s just a jog away. I’m sure she’s feeling the same.”

“I don’t know. I think I should just go have a nap at the lab, then work on Gideon a bit to clear my mind.” Barry said, his mind flickering back to Len and Hartley, his insides twisting.

“Just take it easy, don’t over work yourself. Remember we’re here if you need somewhere to stay for a bit.” Ronnie said with a smirk, Barry nodding before speeding off, Caitlin’s hair whipping Ronnie in the face.

Barry collapsed onto the couch in the lounge of Star Labs, nodding off with his face pressed against the cushion, the exhaustion over taking him. When he woke up it was dark outside, now on his back, his body covered in a blanket from the infirmary, voices talking in the background, possibly some bickering. Barry let out a groan, shifting on to his side as he tried to nod back off, someone shushing. A hand pushed his bang out of his, another giving a light grip to his calf, Barry cracking his eyes open to catch a glimpse of Cisco leaning against the coffee bar, the hand still patting his head.

“Make yourself useful Ramon and find some of those bars you made for him. He’s probably starving.” A sharp voice said, Barry looking up to see Hartley brushing his hand through his hair, smiling down at him. Looking down at his legs he saw Len sitting with Barry’s legs across his lap, the older man now rubbing up and down his leg, he almost nodded back off.

“Hey sleeping beauty, are you hungry.” Hartley said lightly, Barry taking a second to let his mind catch up to him. When earlier events came back Barry shot up, speeding over to Cisco, who seemed as spooked as the other two men.

“So, still mad?” Len said, leaning back against the couch, Hartley scooting over to him and leaning against him. Turning Barry looked at Cisco, the other man looking just as weirded out by the two Rogues cuddling on the couch.

“It’s weird right? I haven’t told them anything.” Cisco whispered, Hartley perking up.

“You know I have sonic hearing right?” Cisco rolled his eyes, not taking his eyes off of Barry.

“Are you going to talk to us about anything?” The young meta asked, looking at Barry, the speedster patting Cisco’s shoulder to dismiss him. It was silent for a moment and it was times like this he wished he could get drunk, wondering if Caitlin has a bottle of the special booze in her office. After a moment of silence the older of the three spoke up.

“Look, if you really want to call it quits on us we’ll stop bugging you, but you have to talk to us about it, none of us can read your mind.”

“We’re not together!” Barry snapped, still staring at the coffee machine. “You can’t break up with someone you’ve never dated.”

“Wow, shit move.” Hartley sounded cold, taking a deep breath. “You can be a real dick sometimes Allen, but you can’t deny three years together.”

“What’s gotten into you? What happened to the speedster that loves us?” Len said, Barry turning to see both men standing, Hartley looking on the verge of crying while Len looked angry.

“He doesn’t exist anymore! I’m not your Barry and trying to find a place in a world you don’t know is kind of hard!” Barry growled, both men taking a defensive stance.

“Where’s our Barry then?”

“He’s me now. This new world isn’t the earth I lived on, this is strange.” Barry says, Len and Hartley still giving him dirty looks.

“Have you been time traveling again?”

“I wish, but no this is much worse.” Barry said, sliding down the counter, throwing his head in his hands. Both men stared at Barry as silence befell the three men.

“Explain right now what’s going on or I’ll assume you're a clone or something and blow you through that bar.” Hartley warned, Barry’s shoulder drooping.

“There was this crisis, a wave of antimatter swept through the multiverse and erased infinite numbers of earths, including my earth, earth 1. Oliver died and created this new world, earth-prime. Things are so different here, I’m not a CSI anymore, dead people on my earth are alive here, my parents grave is missing, I can’t find my house, and my wife is married to my friend on this earth. I can’t figure anything out and there’s almost no one that can understand what I’m going through because unlike everyone else with memories of the multiverse I wasn’t given memories of this life. I lost a daughter last year and now I’ll never get to meet her again.” Barry broke down crying, hiding his face in his knees. He hears footsteps, and slowly two pairs of arms wrapped around, Barry leaning into them.

“Take a second to calm down, let it all out Scarlet.” Len said, Barry leaning his head down, against Len's shoulder. It took a few minutes, but Barry managed to calm down enough to sit up straight. “Okay, ready to talk?” Len asked, nodding Barry cleared his throat.

“So you’re telling me that an infinite number of worlds were erased from existence and this earth is what replaced them? There are so many issues with that, you’re crushing together all these worlds into one world.” Hartley said, Barry looking over at him.

“Only three earth have been smashed into one, that’s all we found so far.” Barry mumbled, looking at the other meta.

“Okay so you said you were married to someone.”

“Iris.”

“What about us?” Hartley motioned to him and Len.

“You, last we talked, were fixing your relationship with your parents, then you set up a center to work with people that had been affected by the particle accelerator. You also opened up a few shelters for kids that had been kicked out by parents for their sexual orientation.” Hartley smiled, nodding.

“Sounds like a great person, but my parents are homophobic pieces of trash.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty terrible still, but they were trying.”

“What about me? Still with the Legends?” Len asked, Barry casting his eyes down.

“You died a hero, saving Mick from a self sacrifice. You held down the detonation on something called the Oculus, blew yourself up with these guys called the Time Masters. I’ve met your doppelganger, Leo Snart. He was married to Ray Terrill, a man that was a ray of light. They lived on this world run by nazi’s...they’re all gone now.”

“You must have lost a lot in exchange for what you have now.” Len said, pulling Barry for cuddling, Hartley rubbing up and down his thigh.

“I feel so displaced in this world, I’m not the Barry you guys love.”

“Sure you are. You are the same, sappy hero, with a great ass. Just because you don’t remember us, doesn’t mean we can’t be together. We can start again.” Hartley says, Barry looking at both of them.

“I just want to go home.” Barry said, Len placing a kiss on Barry’s forehead.

“We’ll take you home.” He whispered, the next thing he knew he was being carried in Len’s arms, Hartley taking the lead with the car keys.

Barry followed the two lovers into the house, keeping quiet as he took a look around. “I’ll start dinner, any request Barry?” Hartley asked, watching Barry pick up a photo from their anniversary. “I can make your favorites?”

“A banana?” Barry mumbled, staring intently at the picture. They looked so happy, sitting at a diner Barry didn’t know, leaning against each other.

“A banana?” Hartley asks, nose scrunched at the idea of just fruit.

“It’s all Iris could make that was edible.” Barry said, sitting the picture down.

“Well we all can cook, how about I make you some tacos?”

“Okay...what ways is the bedroom?” Len pointed the way, Barry taking off towards the back room, Len joining Hartley in the kitchen.

Barry took his time looking around, seeing many of his belongings around the room. The closet door was opened, Barry going through it to try and get a glimpse of what their life was like. When he got to the back he came across a familiar parka, behind that a newer looking costume that Barry was sure belonged to Hartley. A smile came to his face seeing the costumes, glad to have some familiarity in his life. Pulling away Barry turned to face the rest of the room again, eyes settling on the bed, his body moving on autopilot. Barry found himself sitting on the bed, a small tingle of familiarity coming over him. Reaching under the bed Barry found the old shoebox full of photos of his parents and his life at Joe’s. Dragging the box out Barry hoisted it up on the bed, the old box dusty. Flipping it open, Barry saw the messy pile of pictures of his childhood, bringing a smile to his face. He heard giggling coming from the kitchen, a chill running up his spine as he started pulling pictures out of the box, starting to come across ones with the three of them.

The first one was after Savitar, Barry could tell by the way they were dressed, Hartley’s costume was still the old one that Barry had known. Len had his same old parka and goggles on, apparently being the picture taker as Hartley and Barry were wrapped around him. There were a few pictures like that in there from over the last three years, ones Len shouldn’t have been present in.

Closing the box Barry slid it off the bed, leaving it on the floor as he laid down on the bed, resting his head against a pillow. Breathing in the first thing he smelled was the scent of Hartley’s shampoo and conditioner, the smell taking over his senses. Rolling over Barry was met with Len’s scent on the other pillow, smelling like his after shave. Barry laid there for a moment, thinking over what his new life entailed, what he’d lost and gained.

A knock came to the door, Barry shooting up to see Hartley smiling from the door, dishes clanking in the other room. “Hey, dinners ready. Len’s setting the table now.” Nodding Barry stood, following the young meta out of the bedroom and into a dining room Barry was sure was covered in stolen art.

“Hey Scarlet, if you don’t like the cooking I got a banana for you.” A smile crept to Barry’s face as he took a seat across from Len.

“So what do you guys do in this timeline for work?”

“Kind of working at Star Labs, if you're worried I’m still thieving don’t. You gave us that choice a while ago and we decided to go straight.” Hartley said, nudging Barry’s foot.

“I’m a consultant for the CCPD, what’s a better way to figure out a theft than from a thief.” Len said as he served himself.

“How’d this all happen? The Hartley and Snart of my world hardly knew each other.”

“Well when you wanted to move the metas and I betrayed you Hartley and I just..clicked. Later down the road and many team ups later we decided to make it a party for three.”

“I’d like to try and be part of your guys’ world, it’ll take time, but I want memories of this new world that aren’t all negative.” Barry said, two hands reaching over and gripping his.

“We’ll go at your pace okay, no pressure.” Hartley smiled, both he and Len looking at Barry with understanding and patience.

#baweek2020

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cheermeupthankyou · 5 years

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Brie Larson vs. The World: A Letter for Humanity

So I’d like to share and say hmmm in terms of adoration mm yeah Chris Evans what a husband material hubba hubba Chris Hemsworth funny dude even Taika Waititi oh Jodie Comer- in lesbians for her Armie Hammer Jake Gyllenhaal oofers eye candy Margaret Qualley mah babies Mackenzie Davis Wynonna Ryder and Kristen Stewart of course all them Marvel girls from A for Angelina Jolie Blanchett Danai Debicki Saldana Evangeline Karen Scarlett etc etc etc to Z for Zendaya Star Wars gang Daisy Felicity Oscar Lupita um yes please all the heroines we love Gal Gadot Amber Heard les cheveux roux madmoiselles Chastain Amy Adams the veterans Patricia Clarke Bullock Paulson Weaver Gillian Anderson Moore Lawless Mirren what goddesses they are even the young’uns newcomers Diana Silvers Billie Lourd Hunter Schafer such gems Thrones crew Gwendoline Emilia Lena Kit Sophie Maisie err pretty much everyone of them yes even the Night King give me the shivurs Aubrey Plaza Anna Kendrick Sarah Carter yas yas yas even some voice actors Ashly Burch Elizabeth Maxwell Hannah Telle j’adore Fab Five queers heck even politicians like AOC or Kamala Harris or Brian Sims gets me giddy wonderful wonderful insanely talented amazing great people.

But

then

there’s

Brie Larson.

I was a music photographer and journalist for a while, I interviewed people and got the chance to meet some renowned humans (Feist, Au Revoir Simone, Kina Grannis, YYYs, Sean Lennon to name a few) it was my job to recognise their backgrounds and learn people’s personalities and identify situations.

While there are so much amazing people that I mentioned above who has done so many great things, I have never seen someone MOST relatable like Brie, so humble and hardworking in the harsh -no privacy- industry of entertainment, who just bases her life out of goodness and excitement of life and purity. She’s like most of us, she’s awkward and shy, loves pets, video games, Indiana Jones, Star Wars, Sailor Moon, fan girls towards other celebs, music nerd and an actual nerd, and just loving life in general.

So it does break my heart that people are targeting her as the subject of everything that’s negative just because she wanted to set a stigma that women can be powerful and is their own person, and she’s had it rough before (as I read/listened/watched her interviews) Here’s a narrowed down of her life:

- Her parents were constantly fighting when she was young, leaving her into a broken home, around 7 years old she moved to LA living in a studio apartment with her mom and sister with the 3 of them with only 1 murphy bed. She’s estranged with her dad until now.

- She’s definitely an introvert, type of girl who sits on the far upper left or right corner in the theatre thinking that she doesn’t block anyone’s view (she actually said this on an interview), had social anxiety attacks since she was young but she knows she loves acting and wants to entertain people, starting with singing in her early years. She prefers doing stuffs alone and creating arts just to keep her mind at ease.

- Because of her passion in acting and her social condition, she was home schooled and focused in acting schools more, thankfully her mother supported her to go to acting schools and just going on auditions. Her singing career didn’t go as much as she hoped, to make ends meet she started DJ-ing just to earn money. Keep in mind Brie did not come from a prestige family with access to Hollywood unlike some of her Marvel co-stars. She started from zero.

- She actually auditioned for Twilight and was told, “Don’t ever bring Brie Larson back here again” for whatever reason. Was also told she wasn’t “sexy enough” for some stuffs she auditioned.

- Even though she loves acting, knowing she’s an introvert, it is the only reason why Brie has never considered blockbuster movies because she was afraid of getting recognised worldwide that it would leave her having no privacy at life at all. Due to this, she accepted mostly indie movies (Most recognisably Short Term 12 or The Glass Castle) but even by doing indie movies she didn’t earn enough money that sometimes she would cry in her kitchen telling her mom that she doesn’t have any money just to buy food.

- She did the movie Room which won her first Oscar for best actress, but in the process in doing so it broke her in half because of her childhood past and trauma. Whilst doing The Glass Castle she also said it was rather personal that she played a character with a broken relationship with a father (Played by Woody Harrelson) is because she never had father-daughter relationship. All the stuffs she did were mostly personal because she felt connected to them. Even Captain Marvel, because she felt that it was a moment in her life where she needs the change to be stronger for herself and Carol has changed her for that.

- Her road into becoming Captain Marvel was almost like a brick to brick road built up for her, as she has acted in movies with most of the Marvel casts. In 13 Going On 30 with Mark Ruffalo, with Chris Evans in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Scarlett Johansson in Don Jon, Tom Hiddleston and Samuel L. Jackson in Kong: Skull Island and Joe and Anthony Russo in Community. A few reasons she accepted the role of Captain Marvel; One being when she saw Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman, she admitted that even as the movie was just about a few minutes in, she couldn’t stop crying and she asks herself as to why that is, and she realised that this is the stuff I need, we don’t have this enough, where a powerful strong woman was depicted on screen; The other, for the most realistic reason that she did need the money while she was given the opportunity; The SIMPLEST reason is just to MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY that the character is going to be brought to life; The MOST important of them all is that she wants to break the barrier of herself. She wants to be more out there, spreading positivity and setting an example to people to be stronger for themselves, that people can change for the better, in which in this case: Brie was a completely non athletic person with asthma, she trained for 9 months, almost 3-5 hours a day for 5 days a week at the gym with constant crying because of her hard work and changes to herself, vomited mostly at the gym and also puked during her pilot training. She had bruises all over the place because she did most of her stunts and training (Per her saying, it was ignorance at first because she thought everyone on Marvel was doing their own stunts when they’re not, but she did most of them herself that she was allowed to).

- Now that she has recognition, she’s actually doing more activism and be a spokeswoman into helping people. She even promotes people’s brand and stuffs via her Instagram just to help out simple things.

Please remember, she’s human. She has flaws, but I have never seen her doing/saying anything fatal that depicts resent. Never. And no, Brie is not the first female ever trying to set examples for people, but she is the current one getting the most hate for it just because of Captain Marvel— a film about a female superhero, setting an example for people to be stronger, she did it just to make people happy and half the world is angry at her. WTF. Believe it or not, this is girl actually CARES about people, she would care about you if you actually DO CARE about all the good things that does matter. Being of who she is, Brie is capable of empathising with people, which is something most people don’t have.

Brie wanted to be a better person, SHE DID. When in fact Brie has successfully done that, now people are hating her even more because she’s just a “bigger easier target” because of her role and apparently it is easier to hate someone else than just to be nice or appreciative or grateful in general.

If you’re reading and you’re hating, can I just ask, what has Brie Larson done to your life? And maybe ask yourself what have you done that matters in your life? We can just be nicer to other people, it’s really not that hard to try, you know. Life is just about being kind to each other, there is no point in throwing hate because it’s not your cup of tea, having an opinion to your taste is fine, but giving hate comments about is just being an asshole. Imagine being in her shoes and dealing with all those that wasn’t necessary in the first place. It does take mentality of the size of the Jupiter with that amount of hate, and Brie Larson is still dealing them. Just think if that was you, could you be able to handle it as far as what she’s gone though? Really think about it. Not one human in the world wants to be hated for even the smallest reason, not even you.

As to those who feel like they wanted a change in their lives, if Brie can do it, SO CAN YOU. Stay calm, just be nice and kind to others— even to those who treated you unjustly. Let the action speaks louder than any words will ever do. And be happy of life.

My adoration for her is at the apex at the moment. She is IT.

So I’m just here spreading the love for Brie.

#brie larson

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fasterthanmydemons · 4 years

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Headcanons: Pietro’s Right Hand/Arm

Okay, so here’s a big ball of random headcanons that will apply for my version of Pietro on this blog, and they have to do with his right hand... its health, history of injuries, and why he always keeps it a lot more gloved than his left hand. This is an idea first brought to my attention by a question from @cinnamonspoon23 that I somewhat began to answer in this post, but will also build on ideas I mentioned in this meta post about the twins’ experiments with Hydra. I also did some Google searching on the topic and found this interesting page where someone else attempted to explain what was going on as well. And finally, doing a bit of discussing, brainstorming, headcanoning, supposing, and guessing with @edenwander resulted in me being so fascinated with this topic that I knew I needed to add this to my Pietro muse and have it be a part of his character from now on. Now that all those credits and references are out of the way, let me now detail what headcanons I will be using for my version of Pietro on this blog regarding his right hand (and sometimes arm), why he has tremors in it, why he keeps his hand covered, and why he is often seen with it a lot more covered than his left hand.

Below cut because LONG.

Overall upshot of this set of headcanons: Pietro has nerve damage in his right arm and hand that results in tremors that sometimes go all the way up his arm but more commonly involve his hand. This nerve damage is the result of several traumas, both physical and psychological, that have contributed both to the physical nerve damage ailment and its tremor symptoms. His hand is also scarred from some of the same things that contributed to the nerve damage. He wears gloves, bandages, etc. on his right hand to not only cover the scars but also to minimize the tremors. Compression gloves also help relieve pain and throbbing from excessive use of his hand during training, battles, etc.

I am referring to the tremors that can be seen here (you can also see his arm muscles spasming as well if you look close):

And I’ll be talking about why he is always seen with an extra glove or bandage on his right hand vs. his left, like in these scenes:

The easiest way to handle this huge ball of headcanons is to just go chronologically, so I’m going to describe all of the physical, chemical, and psychological contributors to Pietro’s hand/arm tremors and nerve damage, and then what he does to cover/hide/deal with it.

HIS PARENTS’ DEATHS

Aside from this being an incredibly stressful and traumatic event for Pietro for a lot of reasons (losing his parents, literally getting a bomb dropped on his house, seeing his sister so upset and scared, being trapped under rubble for two days, fearing a nearby bomb might explode any second), there were chemical and physical injury aspects of this event that were the start of the woes for Pietro’s right hand and arm. First, lemme go into some background about what their apartment building might have been made of and about a condition called manganism...

Manganese is a naturally-occurring metal in the environment and it is an essential nutrient that people need to survive. Usually humans get it through food or water, depending on where they live, but sometimes there is the chance for being exposed to too much of this metal. Exposure to levels orders of magnitude higher than what is necessary for survival, can be very harmful and result in manganese toxicity and manganism. Manganism is the name of a syndrome that occurs as a result of prolonged high exposure to manganese metal. This can occur either by drinking contaminated water or by inhaling dust or other particulate matter containing manganese. Symptoms of manganism include: permanent nerve damage, tremors in extremities, trouble concentrating, irritability, aggressiveness, and hallucinations. As it turns out, young children are more susceptible to manganese poisoning than adults, because their smaller body weight results in greater dosing per pound/kilogram, and because they are more sensitive to poisoning via inhalation exposure. I believe that Pietro suffers from the effects of manganism as a result of acute toxicity caused by inhaling manganese-laden dust when his apartment building was bombed. If you would like to read more about manganese, toxicity effects, and manganism, you can read this report here.

Manganese is used in building materials. It is often alloyed with other metals (iron, copper, etc.) and can decrease brittleness in steel in the right amounts. It is also used in brick-baking processes in which brick material is coated in a manganese-laden substance and baked at high temperatures to strengthen the material. Manganese is also far cheaper a metal to buy and use than copper and a lot of other types of metals that might be used in building alloys, bricks, and other building materials, making it an attractive option for a country with a struggling economy, like Sokovia. It is possible that Pietro’s building was unfortunately made of materials that contained too much manganese. This would make the cost of the building materials much lower, but it would also mess with the structural integrity of the building, making its components much too soft. So not only would something like a bomb decimate a building made from these types of soft materials, it but those materials would also crumble into dust a lot more easily than others.

Alright, slight detour here to explain why Pietro would have been exposed to manganese-laden dust but not Wanda if they were both trapped under rubble together for two days. To explain this, I need to explain a few headcanons for my version of Wanda. Wanda is smaller than Pietro by a lot, both in body type and height. She was also born twelve minutes later than him. Unless there’s some sort of problem or there is a reason why doctors might be trying to keep one twin in the womb while one is born prematurely, that’s a decent amount of time for Wanda to wait to pop out, heh. Once the water breaks, there can be oxygen issues for the twin left inside the womb if they can’t breathe.

Anyway, I headcanon that Wanda took so long to come out because she wasn’t quite ready yet. Very often with twins, especially fraternal ones, one twin might be “weaker” than the other. In my version of the twins, Wanda is the “weaker” one, being smaller and somewhat more fragile in health than her brother. A result of this was respiratory distress, because her lungs were not as developed when she was born. As an infant she had lung ailments that were life-threatening, and as a young child she was pre-asthmatic, not quite having asthma but often wheezing if upset or frightened or having trouble breathing if she got something like a cold or the flu. Bronchitis and pneumonia were also problems of hers when she was little. Wanda fortunately outgrew these setbacks, and by the time she was a teenager, her health issues pretty much disappeared.

Okay now back to Pietro and Wanda being stuck in rubble in the remains of their apartment building. Pietro knows that his sister has lung issues, and he’s very conscious of that and protective of her. So one of his first thoughts when trapped under that bed in their apartment was that there was so much dust in the air that he was breathing in... and if he was breathing it in, then so was Wanda. So he had the forethought to tell her to cover her nose and mouth with his shirt to prevent her from breathing in dust that might make her sick. It was a simple decision by a child trying to protect his sibling, and surely he didn’t understand all that he was actually protecting her from by doing that, and maybe he overestimate his own ability to deal with the dust since he didn’t bother to cover his own nose and mouth. He figured well, I don’t have lung problems, so I’ll be fine. It didn’t really occur to him that there might be bad things in the dust that could make anybody sick, not just someone who was already compromised like Wanda. So for two days, Pietro was breathing in toxic dust laden with high levels of manganese... among other things, while Wanda was breathing through the filter of her brother’s shirt, which would have blocked the majority of particulates.

Manganism was only the beginning of Pietro’s issues with his hand and arm, however, and physical damage did occur during those days in addition to chemical exposure. To help keep her still and to comfort her, Pietro held his sister with his right arm while keeping his left arm free in case he needed to support collapsing rubble to protect her. Because they were laying down in a tight space, his right arm frequently fell asleep underneath Wanda for hours at a time. He didn’t think anything of it, but all that poor circulation was terrible for his muscle tissue. To compound things, when the twins were finally extracted from the rubble, Pietro did not bother to gingerly move his right arm first to get the feeling back or to make sure that he had proper range of motion with it. Nope, he just went ahead and moved it full force. The result was a sharp, tearing feeling that ran from the center of his hand, through his wrist, and up his arm to his elbow. Since that time, he’s had transient numbness in his right hand.

BECOMING AN ORPHAN

Living on the streets was rough for the twins. Pietro was constantly vigilant in protecting Wanda and, with his developing swiftness (remember, my twins are mutants, so their powers began before Hydra’s experiments), he often stole things like food and clothing for him and Wanda. Fights with people who either bothered Wanda or didn’t like that the twins were around were a thing, and Pietro didn’t pull any punches, literally. Being right-handed, he punched a lot more often with his right hand than his left, even though he had developed tremors from the manganism and had lingering numbness, pain, and/or throbbing in his hand from the nerve damage and tearing injury. Impact from fighting exacerbated his already existing conditions in his hand and arm, and resulted in cuts and bruises, but that wasn’t the worst thing that happened to his hand during this time of his life.

One day, while attempting to steal something, Pietro miscalculated and was caught. He was able to escape, but not before the shop owner stabbed his right hand with a pocket knife in an attempt to pin it to a table and stop him from running away. Without proper medical attention and because he tried to play the wound off as nothing too bad so Wanda wouldn’t be upset, Pietro ended up with a massive infection in his hand that resulted in some tissue death and almost the loss of his thumb and forefinger. Luckily for him, the infection eventually cleared up on its own, but not before the back of his hand and his thumb and forefinger were badly scarred by it. This scar tissue further limited movement, making Pietro’s already damaged hand stiff and less mobile. It frustrated him, and so there have been plenty of times since then that he has forced his hand to move in certain ways out of that sheer frustration, as if merely forcing it to be able to move a certain way would fix the problem. Instances of him being angry at his own hand for not just “being normal” have resulted in a lot of pain and swelling, as well as the tremors increasing due to stress.

HYDRA EXPERIMENTATION

Hydra completely compounded everything that was wrong with Pietro’s hand and arm in two big ways: physical and psychological.

Physically... where they decided to stick the IV injection port was unfortunate for him. Both Wanda and Pietro had IV ports placed in their right hands, something I discuss in this meta. And actually, the psychological issues I’m going to mention were also brought up in that same post. Anyway... Pietro reacted very poorly to having a semi-permanent port put in his hand, and I don’t mean that he got angry or upset... even though he did. I mean his body didn’t react well. He had a reaction, possibly allergic in nature, to the type of plastic and adhesive used for the port and to secure in his hand, and this reaction resulted in swelling and a large hematoma (blood that collects outside of blood vessels where it’s supposed to be) inside his hand. The blood spread in and around already existing scar tissue, serving to only exacerbate the existing tissue problems that he already had. To relieve the pressure on his nerves, minor surgery was required to drain the hematoma and correct the issues with the port.

With the stress of his happening to a hand that was already so compromised combined with just the stress of being there in the Hydra lab in a controlled and often abusive environment and being confined to a tiny little cell when he has a compulsion and a deep-seated need to move a lot and fast, Pietro began to suffer psychologically. Already under a lot of psychological stress because of so many other events in his life, he now had a whole new set of problems that compounded everything, resulting in violent and reckless behavior, such as slamming himself into the walls of his cell because he needs to move around no matter what. The psychological stress of his situation, further potential injury to his hand as he slams himself around in his room, and potentially even injuries to his spine or head, however temporary and about to be healed they may be, all could have increased the severity and/or frequency of the tremors that began with earlier problems in his life.

ULTRON AND BEYOND

By the time Pietro is set free in Age of Ultron, he’s wearing gloves on his right hand to hide his scars and to compress his hand a bit to reduce pain and tremors. His gloves both before and after he teams up with the Avengers cover the back and palm of his right hand and extend downward to further hide the scarring of his thumb and forefinger (see pics above).

Pietro hides his tremors as well as he can, often pressing his hand to his leg to keep it still at his side or hiding it if it’s shaking a lot while switching to his left hand to perform a task he can’t do with a trembling one. When fighting, he tends not to care, continuing to use his compromised hand, but during everyday tasks he tries his best to hide that anything is wrong, especially from Wanda. He doesn’t want to worry his sister, and he’s afraid that she’ll feel responsible in part for his condition, because some of it was caused by holding her in the rubble as children and she was most of the decision-making behind volunteering for the Hydra experiments.

Also, Pietro does not like to appear weak, damaged, or feeble in any way, and very often he can get insulted by people who show him any sympathy because he assumes they’re patronizing him. So rather than risking any of that or having to explain why his hand and arm sometimes shake or where his scars came from, Pietro prefers to cover and hide the problem. When he is alone, however, like after a shower or something, he’ll something look at his hand in great detail and stretch it out as he ponders it. It bugs him, having what he considers an obvious flaw and a sign that he’s inferior to others in some way. It’s a definite chink in the armor of an otherwise strong ego.

Pietro often has stinging pain shooting up his arm or a throbbing feeling in his wrist and hand. Sometimes his hand hurts, but other times it is numb and cold, especially in his two worst fingers. And of course there are the tremors. All of those symptoms are due to nerve damage from injuries and manganese poisoning. Opening it fully or closing his fist is sometimes difficult without forcing it because there is a great deal of tightness from the scar tissue. Besides holding something with his hand to make the tremors stop or wearing compression gloves, in times of stress that exacerbate his condition, Pietro will fold his arms to hide the involuntary movements of his arm and hand. As I mentioned above, I also headcanon that some of his concentration issues, irritability, and aggression may also be attributed to the last effects of manganism.

Alright, I think that about does it! So this will be canon now for my Pietro, but again, because he hides it from pretty much everyone, it isn’t like it’ll be mentioned a lot. If you want your muse to notice his tremors of catch him without his glove on, we can definitely do a thing. Otherwise, it will likely not change too much in already existing threads.

#headcanons #about the muse

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