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reasonsmandy · 1 year

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Love Me Again

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

✧.* you're reading part two of — Love Alone

✧.* collab — @dj-ts

✧.* summary — They say nothing heals like time, but what do we do when that time is not enough to deal with your wounds? What do we do when we are not talking about a wound but a mark, a scar that was shaped by passion, desire and love? You thought that time would make you forget him, but there are things that are impossible to erase. And Warren Rojas, for sure, was one of those.

✧.* warnings — Nothing too drastic, read on and find out. (I believe that anything I put here will be a spoiler)

✧.* word count — 8.5k

✧.* 🥁 — Warren's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I was so excited for you guys to read this, I really hope you like it. Special thanks to @dj-ts who wrote this masterpiece with me, thank you so much 🫶🏾. And as always, good reading.

The hours passed slowly, you were almost being devoured by the anxiety that was growing in your chest, you watched the clock on the wall anxiously waiting and waiting in frustration. Your foot couldn't stop tapping against the floor, your hands were sweating and your heart was beating so fast it could leap out of your chest at any moment.

You couldn't wait any longer, and gathering all the courage that was left in you, you got up. Without further ado, you put everything you needed in your bag and decide to walk to Camila's house, if you held that secret any longer you could explode for sure.

The way there, despite not being so long, seemed to take forever. You felt a huge tightness in your chest that wouldn't go away for nothing, you were scared... Very scared. You weren't expecting any of this, everything was going as smoothly as planned, the band had released a song that had blown up all over the country, the label had taken them back and Warren looked happier than ever, you loved seeing him like this and you had no idea what this news would do... How it would be received or how you yourself would deal with it.

You take a deep breath staring at your best friend's door, hoping she would be there to help you. You knock on the door, staring at your feet trying to regulate your breathing, you can hear someone's footsteps approaching and soon the doorknob turns opening the door. As soon as you see the brunette the tears you refused to let out, invade your face.

"Y/N darling, what are you doing here so early?" Camila had her hair tied up in a bun, Julia was sleeping peacefully in a crib behind her, she still hadn't looked at you and when she did and saw tears in your eyes, her eyes widened. "Baby what's going on? Come in."

The woman sits you down on the couch in the living room, crouching down in front of you, waiting for you to calm down. She caresses your knees trying to comfort you, trying to understand what had happened.

"Y/N I don't mean to rush you, but you're scaring me." She whispers after a few minutes.

"I'm pregnant Cami." You say and she sighs, in fact it wasn't something she expected.

Camila leaving the floor sits beside you, hugging you tightly, you stayed like that for a long time until you calmed down. She breaks the hug, looking deep into your eyes. She was scared but she knew her feelings didn't compare to yours, there was something different between her situation with Billy and yours with Warren.

Deep down she knew that she and Billy would make it work, she had confidence in their love and in what they had been building for so many years. But between you and Warren everything seemed so uncertain, at least from Camila's point of view, your relationship seemed to be sustained on the sands of a beach prone to strangely unpredictable tides.

And with that in mind, Camila feared what this child could mean, and not only for them on this journey of being parents, but also how this child would deal with this constant instability in their lives.

"And what do you want to do?" She takes your hands, trying to reassure you. "I'm here to help you with any decision."

"I want to keep it." You couldn't stop crying, tears fell down your face involuntarily. "But I'm so scared of what he would think… We never talked about this before."

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you realize the magnitude of the situation. What if Warren doesn't want the baby? What if he leaves you? You had always been so sure of your feelings towards him, but now everything feels uncertain.

You take a deep breath and try to shake off the thoughts that have been haunting you for so long. The gaps in your relationship with Warren seem to be widening with each passing day. It's as if you're standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down at the dark unknown below, and you can't help but wonder if you're about to lose the love of your life.

Those memories of unrequited love come flooding back, reminding you of all the moments that still haunt you to this day. You remember the way he never said he loved you back, or the way he always pushed you away when things got too close. You can't help but wonder if he'll react the same way to this unexpected news, and the thought alone sends shivers down your spine.

You asked Camila for some time to think, you said that you would stay there in the backyard smoking alone and obviously your friend did not invade your space, making it clear that if you needed it, just call.

As you watched the sky, the tightness in your chest increased, you were in front of something so unknown that it scared you, nothing in your moment brought you a firmament, quite the contrary. But at the same time that the tide of insecure thoughts was taking over you, a breach of warm and crystalline waters showed you a little bit of hope.

You would hear Julia's laughter at one time or another, and when you took your eyes to them you could see the little girl laughing and playing with her mother's hair, your heart racing at the thought of your future child, what would it be like to be a mother? What would the face of your great love's creation look like? You thought of the way your baby's hair could be curled like his father's, the thought of having a child like him filled your heart with joy.

You were afraid, but fear was not enough to quell your longing for this baby, the longing you had for a family by Warren's side. You imagined the way he could be a great father, how he would teach the child to play the drums with the greatest pride in the world, how he would be proud of every achievement of the baby. You knew Warren, he was the most eccentric person you knew and you had no other image of him as a father.

After spending a few hours with Camila, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. She tells you about her own experiences with motherhood and how it has changed her life for the better. As you prepare to leave, you feel ready to face Warren and share the news with him, even though the little voice inside your head told you that something was going to change and not in a good way.

As you walk back home to Laurel Canyon, your mind races with excitement and anticipation. You can't wait to tell Warren and start planning your future together as a family. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that showed your anxiety, but the more you ignored the more they flew and messed with your cognition.

Despite these doubts, you push them away, determined to believe that everything will work out. But little did you know that the night ahead would be one of the most challenging of your life, and that your hopes and dreams for the future would soon come crashing down.

And every time you visited the memories of that day you regretted not listening to that little voice.

…

One year later

Eddie Roundtree: After she left… Warren was different.

Karen Sirko: He was out of control, at least.

Camila Dunne: I still kept in touch with Y/N for sure! She was my best friend and it wasn't a stupid move by Warren that was going to keep me away from her. But if I'm honest with you he had become someone else when she was gone.

Interviewer: Did you tell him what she told you?

Camila Dunne: *sighs* She asked me not to, I was not in my place to say anything.

Warren Rojas: When she left I... I didn't know what to do, I thought that I would finally have my freedom and that now I could live without owing anyone anything. But her absence left me with more withdrawal than any addict.

Your absence was something nothing and no one could prepare Warren for, he didn't know that losing the woman who was always by his side was going to be so agonizing and torturous, he pretended not to miss you. He hid the frustration that built in his chest every day he woke up and didn't feel you next to him in bed, he tried to ignore the tears that formed every time he remembered the nights you spent hours talking so he could help you with your sleeping problems, he tried to fill the void that your absence left in his chest in all the simple moments of his day, but it was all in vain.

He had lost count of how many women he had been with trying to forget you, imagining that would be what would fill the infinite abyss in his chest. He imagined your lips in place of hers, your hands running through the curly strands of his hair, he imagined your hands providing him that pleasure, nothing compared to having you actually there. Nothing worked, he tried all kinds of things but everyday when he woke up the feeling was still there, like it was taking your place.

As Warren tried to move on from the pain of losing you, he found himself drawn to other women, hoping to fill the void that had been left in his heart. But with every date, every kiss, every attempt at starting something new, he couldn't help but feel like he was betraying the memory of the one person who truly understood him. The only person who made him feel that way, nothing else fit the void you left.

Even though you were no longer together, his heart still belonged to you, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake in letting you go.

It wasn't until you were gone that he realized how much he truly loved you, and now he was left with the regret of his actions and the painful realization that he may never find someone who could fill the void you left behind.

He was laying in bed, the soft sheets crumpled beneath him as he stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to stop flowing down his face. But the memories of you were too vivid, too overwhelming. He could almost feel the warmth of your body next to his, the way your hand would intertwine with his in the darkness.

He could hear the sound of your laughter echoing in the room, as fresh and joyous as the first time he heard it, he could picture perfectly the way you whimpered under his touch every night when he was making you his, that room held all the most intimate and cherished moments between you two and although he knew that being there was like poke his wound he couldn't leave it behind the only thing that held you - or the memories of you at least - with him.

He remembered the way you would always eat breakfast in the morning together, the smell of the brewing beans filling the room and chasing away the last remnants of sleep. And now, as he lay there alone, he realized that he would never experience those moments again. The pain was like a knife twisting in his chest, sharp and unrelenting, and he needed it to stop. He needed to feel you again, holding you close to him again.

He didn't sleep that night, the cool air from the open window seeping into his bones as he tossed and turned. Despite trying to quiet his thoughts, he couldn't get rid of the image of what he missed so much: a life by your side. A few months after you left, he began to notice that none of the things he achieved or wanted to enjoy were as fun without you there. Little by little, when all the adrenaline from the drugs and shows passed, he felt that tightness in his chest again. And as the months went by, he realized that you were indeed the woman he loved, that he wanted to be close to, that he wanted to call his own and that he wanted to be... And he had let you go.

As soon as he noticed the morning taking over the sky, he got up. The hardwood floors creaked under his feet as he made his way to the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon lingered in the air. Rojas didn't talk to anyone as he walked through the kitchen, his friends probably noticing the brooding look on his face. He didn't take long to grab the keys to his van and head to Billy and Camila's house. He couldn't do it anymore... He needed to have you back.

As he drove through the streets, he watched the city waking up, the stores opening, people leaving their homes to go to their jobs, families taking their children to school, seniors walking their pets. The world around him was alive and moving forward, but he felt stuck in the past, as if with your departure a pause had held him back in that moment where he was crying, sitting on your bed, staring at your empty closet. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything it touched, but to Rojas, the world was gray and lifeless without you by his side.

Warren knocked desperately on the door without stopping, he didn't think that maybe he could wake up Julia or Billy and Camila, he just urgently needed that address, he needed to know where you were.

"Jeez, I'm going!" He heard Camila's weak voice on the other side of the wooden object.

She opens the door with Julia in her lap, she frowns, wondering why the drummer is at her door so early.

"Warren?" She was interrupted by the drummer entering the house, and as soon as he passed she closed the door. "Is everything okay?"

"No Cami." He answers her in spanish, turning to her with tears in his eyes. "I don't know what to do…"

Camila leaves Júlia in the crib she had in the living room, inviting Warren to sit with her on the couch.

"What's going on?" She asks, concerned in her eyes.

"I need to see her, Cami." Warren looked exhausted, as if all of his energy had drained out of his body. "I can't fucking sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything without her! I can't stand being away from her anymore…"

"Warren…" She feels her heart ache, he looked really messed up. "You really fucked up."

"I know Cami, I know that I was a fucking asshole and you have no idea how much I regret it." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"She's fine Warren, I don't want you to hurt her again." Camila says sincerely.

"Camila I don't know how to live without her." Warren had tears in his eyes. "Believe me I tried, but every time I tried to be with someone else... I don't know, it felt wrong, like I was cheating on her."

"And why did it take you so long to realize that?" Camila had a calm voice, as if trying to understand if what he said was true.

"Because I'm an idiot, I didn't realize how important she is to me until she left." He confesses, trying to organize the thoughts that have been plaguing him. "I miss her, every detail... The way she loved to talk me to sleep, the way I could tell her about anything she would make it sound interesting, the way she smiled every time I called her doll… I miss the way she would call my name while I-"

Camila stops him. "Okay okay, no need so many details."

"What I mean to say is that I'm empty without her, I can't keep going without her Cami." He played nervously with the rings on his hands.

"I can't Warren, I'm sorry." The brunette said, avoiding looking at him. "It is complicated…"

"I know it's complicated! I'm living this complicated moment since the love of my fucking life left me." Warren exploded in frustration. "Come on Cami, don't you love Billy?" Camila nods slowly, trying to understand what he means. "Then you know what I'm talking about, she's the air I breathe, and you're the only one who can help me."

"Look, she's not the same anymore… Do you understand that?" With every word she said, Warren grew more confused. "I mean that she isn't under the same circumstances as a year ago, she's not alone Warren. And you should know that entering her life again means risking a lot for her."

Warren feels his chest tighten, what he feared maybe was happening, you got over it and were happy without him. He loved seeing that beautiful smile on your face, but he knew he wasn't ready to not be the reason for that smile.

"You mean that…" He doesn't find the courage to say what he was thinking. "Look, I just need to talk to her, and for once be honest about everything. Please Cami."

"I swear to God Warren if you do anything to her, I'll fucking kill you!" She gives him the address. "Please, don't fuck this up"

…

20 minutes later

You struggled to keep your eyes open, your daughter hadn't let you sleep all night, she was a little sick and was demanding a lot from you. So, after spending a sleepless night next to her, you had just put the baby to sleep when a knock on the door filled the house with noise.

“Fuck, shut up, shut up, shut up,” you muttered to yourself hoping that your baby wouldn’t wake up because of the sound. Once you were down the stairs you said “Coming!” in hopes that whoever it was wouldn’t knock again.

Then you opened the door. Never expecting what your eyes would find, Warren was there looking as tired as you, but probably for different reasons. His hands were in his pockets and he was rocking back and forth nervously, you had imagined this moment many times before but experiencing it was a completely different thing.

For some reason you believed your eyes were deceiving you somehow, you stared at that face you've admired so many times before with curiosity and at the same time reluctance. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“Warren?” you asked breathless.

He looked at you with his big puppy eyes, he was a little out of breath from the rush of it all, the nervousness of the whole situation, the rush of going to Camila's house to get here to see you without even processing the information taking over him, now that he finally stopped to breathe.

You hadn’t seen him in a year but he looked the same, the characteristic mustache on his face accentuated his beauty, the curls fell over his face in a relaxed way just as you remembered. He looked like the Warren you loved way back when, the man that made your heart beat faster, the love of your life.

“What are you doing here—” you started but were, characteristically, cut off by the ever impatient man standing in front of you.

“I love you,” he stated, his voice unwavering. His eyes were teary and hearing those words that you've waited so long for so many years was like finally breathing after a swim.

Your surprised look was evident, your racing heart was beating so hard that you felt it would jump out of your chest, the emotion was so strong that words would not come out. Should you believe him?

“Warren, I-” You start to say, your voice shaky evident. "I don't know if it's a great time for this conversation."

You try to ignore the tightness that grows in your chest, avoiding looking into his eyes as much as possible, you knew that if you looked a little longer at that paradise you would surrender. You tried to obey your instincts and close the door in his face, close any loophole that would leave an outlet for him to hurt you or hurt your daughter, but something inside you wouldn't allow it.

Warren slowly approaches you, noticing your hands gripping the door tightly, he brings his hand to yours, touching it gently as if he is gradually noticing how far he can go with you. Feeling his touch on you was like an electric shock, a surge of life in a dead body, it was like a guide to what you called and recognized as home.

Your eyes went to his hand over yours, the lump in your throat grew and the urge to cry came, why did everything have to be so intense with him? You wanted to let him in, that much was obvious, but there was so much at stake…you had gotten used to getting along without him.

"Warren, this is not a good time." You repeat, trying to sound more firm in your decision this time.

He smiles a little, averting his gaze downwards. “Y/N, listen to me, Please…"

Before you could say anything, the cry of your baby girl answered for you. She had woken from the commotion downstairs. The declarations of love, the tension… maybe she knew it was her father. Maybe she knew it was time.

You feel your entire body go cold, your legs weaken and your knees tremble threatening to give out. You close your eyes hoping that this is all a nightmare, obviously it wasn't your little one's fault, but it was surprising how she had chosen the worst moment to cry.

Warren glanced up the stairs where the cry came from and looked back at you in utter shock. People always thought him the airhead of the group but you knew just by looking at him that he caught on immediately what was going on. His face was pale, he seemed to be thinking a thousand things at the same time and he was actually thinking, trying to understand if he had heard correctly, but the continuation of the baby's cry leaves no room for any further doubt.

“Wh- Y/n… When Camila said you weren’t alone, I thought she meant… Well, I thought she meant you were dating someone or married or something, I didn’t think… You have a baby?” Warren thought out loud, it was hard to organize his jumbled thoughts.

You squint in frustration, sighing heavily, you feel trapped. “You have one too. We have one.. a baby, I mean” You responded, ripping off the bandaid once and for all.

For minutes his world changes, it was as if everything around him froze and your words constantly reverberated in his mind, a baby... He had a child. "It 's mine?” Warren asked, still choked with the information.

His eyes seemed to sparkle, and you can't help the smile that breaks out on your face, “She’s yours, yes."

He sighs, feeling and processing everything he had just heard, he had a daughter, and he had spent all this time away from her... His chest tightens at the thought of the lost moments, the consequences of his bad choices.

You observe his frustrated expression, trying to decipher what to do from then on, he already knew everything, nothing fairer than letting him meet his daughter, right? Your wounded heart had the tendency to protect your girl from him, not to let her suffer the same way you suffered through her father's attitudes, but she had to make that choice, not you for her.

“Would you like to meet her?” you ask, opening the door slightly.

“I don’t want to intrude, I mean obviously there’s a reason you didn’t tell me,” He whispered, still shocked by the revelation

“Warren, please. She’s your kid, of course you can meet her,” You answered, deliberately ignoring the fact that you didn’t tell him. You open the door wider and let him in. “Her room is just upstairs.”

Warren flashes a grateful smile, as if he knows he's being given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Stepping on eggshells, he approaches you, entering the house.

You guide him up the stairs, he observes your cozy home, the frames with pictures of you with family members he knew very well, others with friends he had in common with you, others with some people that he didn't know. He stops on a step, looking at a picture of you pregnant, he feels his chest tighten and you just notice him stop out of nowhere, and turns around to understand what happened.

"You look stunning." He says, almost in a whisper.

You look fondly at the image, you never thought to have him looking at it one day. "She didn't want to be born at all, I was about to explode." You say with a laugh, remembering the circumstances in which the photo was taken.

Your belly was huge, you were wearing a flowery dress lying on a sofa, a doll on top of your belly and a genuine smile on your face.

You don't continue the story, you just keep going up the stairs, he accompanies you.

Warren shakily made his way towards you. He was shaking so he grabbed the railing of the stairs, his knuckles going white. You pretended not to notice. Or maybe you just didn’t notice, you had your own nerves to worry about.

Your nerves were a live-wire but you knew it was only an opportunity. You didn’t let him in on the pregnancy, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t get the choice of being a father to his child. That didn’t mean the baby should grow up without a father entirely. You were wary, of course you were wary, but you had to think for the both of you— rationally.

He had hurt you so much that night, the pain of a broken heart wasn't easy to deal with, and carrying his daughter was a constant reminder of the love that could work. But besides that, your girl had shown you that what you felt for Warren wasn't crazy, that from the beginning back in Pittsburgh things had a purpose because they would lead you here, where you would hold your little girl in your arms for the first time and feel complete.

Giving Warren access to something so protected by you was difficult, you were so afraid of what it would unleash. You stop at her bedroom door, gripping the doorknob with all the strength you have in you, before opening it, you turn to him.

"You know this is a once in a lifetime chance, don't you?" The fear in your eyes was evident, and he understood that. "Please Rojas, don't fuck this up."

He doesn't say anything, and you don't waste any more time, opening the door to the crying baby’s nursery. You didn’t even wait for him to walk in; you went straight to the kid and tried to calm her down. You wanted somewhere to put your arms so Warren couldn’t see you shaking. He wouldn’t have minded but you didn’t care.

You wouldn't let him see you vulnerable, not now.

You nap the little one on your lap and when she finally calms down you notice the man approaching you slowly, as if he didn't know how to deal with this situation. The little girl had her eyes closed, her curly black hair was disheveled, probably due to the nap she just had.

You kiss her forehead, still holding her close to your chest, reassuring the baby in your arms. You take your gaze to the man huddled in the room, indicating with your head for him to approach.

Rojas takes light steps towards you, watching the baby in your lap, feeling his heart racing in his chest. When he finally comes to you and looks at the baby's face he feels complete, she was sleeping peacefully the curls on her head were messy, black strands similar to her father's, her nose was identical to yours and Warren doesn't stop smiling when he notices such a detail, she was the perfect combination of the two of you, the result of what the universe always wanted for you.

“Holy shit,” Warren said, his voice shaky and eyes watery, “She’s so cute. Like little raviolis put together to make a little baby,” he chuckled.

You laughed at that and realized exactly how much you truly missed him. Your laughter fills his ears like a tune from a perfect symphony, he feels the butterflies in his stomach wake up and dance to the effect that someone special is nearby. He's been missing this so much, feeling complete with you by his side.

He takes his gaze to you, it was inevitable, your laughter brought him closer and closer to you. And seeing you laugh while rolling your eyes, he remembered what it was like to feel complete.

“Only you, Warren,” you said, wishing that you could have this with him all the time. You notice his eyes glazed over the baby, and after struggling a lot with the inner voice of wisdom within you, you question. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Is that ok?” he asked in response, his eyes never leaving the little girl.

“Of course it’s ok, silly, she’s your kid,” you reminded him. Carefully, you handed your baby over to her father and watched him melt at the feel of her in his arms. You felt like your knees might give out at the sight of your daughter with him like that— it was just such a tender moment.

“What’s her name?” he asked without looking away from her. You knew every detail of him, you knew he was trying hard not to cry.

The little girl finds the different contact strange, moving in her father's lap, she frowns and you smile with the expressions that this little being was capable of making.

“Liz,” you said. His eyes snapped up to you. "Actually, Elizabeth.” Watching him with her in his arms was an exciting and at the same time triggering scene, you had imagined this moment many times during pregnancy and after her birth, having your thoughts come alive was at least something.

For a while you remained in a soft silence, Warren didn't take his eyes off little Liz as if he memorized every detail of her. You waited for her to sleep, and when she finally did so, you led Rojas to the living room of your house, offering him something to eat.

You felt the silence consume you both, the questions, the anguish, the longing, the yearning all hovered between you as the water boiled for the coffee you made. Warren stared at your every move, your presence was something he wanted so badly he was afraid of doing something to lose it. But silence couldn't remain forever, he waits for you to sit on the couch next to him.

“Doll… Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned as a tear fell down his cheek.

You sigh, as many times as you thought about this conversation, having it was something else entirely... Everything you thought to say, all the ways you thought to act, slipped from your mind as you looked straight into his eyes.

“The day that I saw you kiss that other girl." You clarify, he nods, embarrassed by the matter. "That was the day I found out, earlier. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you after all I saw."

You thought that after a year it was going to be easier, but the knot that rises in your throat is proof that it wasn't.

Your hands were shaking and when he noticed that he wanted very much to take them in his, to show comfort, but your withdrawal indicated that it was better not.

"We had never talked about kids before, I didn’t know how you’d react. I had just seen the love of my life kissing another woman, I didn't have the courage to tell you. I also didn't want you to think this was my way of keeping you close."

"I would never think that…" he cuts you off, not offended but trying to explain himself somehow.

"But, can you blame me for thinking that Warren?" You laugh wryly, rolling your eyes slightly. "Through all the years we dated you never said you loved me." You shrug, he feels your chest tighten and you continue.

"Of course I didn’t want to do it on my own but I knew I could manage, and I have,” you replied, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but… I don't know, I needed my time.”

“Were you going to tell me?,” he asked, afraid of the answer.

"I was going to, I just didn't know when." You sigh, feeling the surroundings weigh.

There was a beat then— a tension that hung in the air with words both of you wanted to say but only one of you had the courage.

"I know I hurt you a lot." He started to say, your chest tightening as you realized he was going to bring up the subject. "But I would like to redeem myself, I would like to be part of this child's life... Your life."

"She is your daughter, you can certainly be part of her life." You assure him, this certainty brings him comfort, but when he notices that you were not included in that speech, he feels afraid. "I just hope you know that I'm her mother, and that's all, I'm your daughter's mom."

He felt his chest tighten, he knew this was possible, the chances of rejection were high and he was dealing with them now, but it hurt not to have you. It hurts to have failed you so much. He tries to ignore the tears that are reluctant to come out of his eyes, he takes a deep breath, trying not to let his frustrations out on you.

"I love you doll." He says, looking deep into your eyes, the words echo like magic inside you. "And I understand, but I want you to know that I want you as my girlfriend, my wife, my forever."

"Warren, please." Your words came out in a whisper, too many emotions for one day. "Would you mind leaving me alone now? You can come back tomorrow."

He already expected this reaction, and always aiming to respect your space he gets up.

"Of course." You guide him to the door, and before he leaves, he turns around. "I'll be back tomorrow, and I promise you that every day I'll show you that you made a great choice in giving me another chance."

"Have a great night Rojas." You say, closing the door, and as soon as you hear the click of it the tears in your eyes fall. You still loved him, and a lot.

As the door closed, you leaned against it, tears streaming down your face. The weight of the day's emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you feeling both relieved and overwhelmed. Part of you wanted to believe Warren's words, to trust that he could change and be the man you had always hoped he would be. But another part of you, the part that had been hurt and betrayed, was hesitant to let him back into your life so easily.

You wiped away your tears, determined to stay strong for your daughter, Liz. She was the most important person in your life now, and you couldn't let your own feelings cloud your judgment. You took a deep breath and walked back into the house upstairs, where Liz was sleeping peacefully in her crib. Gazing at her tiny, innocent face, you knew that everything you did from this point on would be for her.

Over the next few days, Warren kept his promise. He showed up at your doorstep every morning with a bouquet of flowers, a gift for your daughter and a sincere apology. He understood that it would take time to earn back your trust, and he was willing to do whatever it took. Warren didn't just want to be a part of Liz's life; he wanted to be there for you too. He wanted to make things right, to have his family with you.

Slowly, you allowed Warren to become more involved. He spent time with Liz, learning how to change diapers, feed her, and soothe her when she cried. You watched as he held her, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. It warmed your heart to see them together, and you couldn't deny the bond that was forming between them. Watching him become a father was beautiful, he was always willing to learn more and do everything for his daughter, you slowly didn't remember how you had managed all of this without him.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Warren proved himself to be a changed man. He showed up more often at your house, spending the morning with Liz while you got some work done, in the afternoon he helped to organize the house while you took care of the little one, offering to help with chores and cooking. He listened to your concerns and fears, providing a listening ear and words of comfort. Slowly but surely, he was showing himself to be the man you had always wanted him to be.

You never stopped loving him, not even when he broke your heart, the way love works is ironic and funny, you didn't understand and probably never would. From the first time you saw him, you knew your heart was his, and despite your fears about letting him into your life again, it didn't undo the love you had for him. It only made you more cautious, you avoided too much intimacy, you avoided any kind of excessive physical contact, very intimate conversations, you tried to keep him just as the father of your daughter, and that's all.

Warren was your addiction, a potent drug coursing through your veins. Since the age of sixteen, he became your illicit substance, an intoxicating elixir that both exhilarated and devastated you.

Like a drug, he captivated your senses, igniting a fiery craving deep within your soul. His presence was a double-edged sword, a tumultuous blend of euphoria and despair. Just a glimpse of his smile sent waves of ecstasy through you, leaving you craving more, yearning for the high only he could provide.

But with every high came the inevitable crash. The pain of betrayal cut through your heart like a searing withdrawal, leaving you trembling and broken. Yet, even in your shattered state, you couldn't resist the allure of his presence. Like a desperate addict, you found solace in the numbness he brought, an escape from the reality you desperately wished to forget.

You knew you had to protect yourself, to guard your heart from the dangerous allure of his touch. You constructed walls, built barriers around your emotions, and numbed yourself to his effect. Yet, the more you tried to resist, the more his influence seeped into your veins, overpowering your defenses.

His constant presence became a merciless temptation, testing your resolve with every passing day. The longing within you grew stronger, pulling you back into the abyss of emotions you fought so hard to suppress. It was a dangerous dance, a relentless struggle between the desire to indulge and the need to break free.

Just as a drug addict battles against the chains of addiction, you battled against your own yearning for Warren. You knew the pull he had on you was both your downfall and your weakness. And yet, despite the turmoil he caused, you couldn't deny the undeniable truth: you were still madly, deeply in love with him.

…

Liz had already slept for a few hours, the clock said two in the morning and you and Warren shared a grapevine in the living room while talking about anything. Matters go, matters come and soon you're talking about your old relationship and the day he showed up at your door after a year.

"What did you come to do here, huh?" You question, your words scrambled by alcohol.

"Didn't I make it clear that day, doll?" He asks, a smile playing on his lips.

"You said you loved me." You said laughing, and killing the rest of the liquid in your glass. "Don't ever call me a doll again!" You exclaim awkwardly, now that you've processed the sentence he's just said.

He looks down, lying down better in the armchair in front of you, how the fuck could he be so handsome?

"You used to like the nickname." He says, shrugging, instantly regretting it when he sees your withering gaze on him. "I'm sorry, is that... I got used to it, but if it bothers you."

You interrupt him, your senses being stunned by the liquor. "It bothers me precisely because of that, because I fucking love it."

Rojas feels his body surrender, he wanted you so much. "Y/N listen…"

Still under the influence of the drink, or so you prefer to believe, you interrupted him again. “One thing has been on my mind since the day you knocked on that fucking door." You say pointing to the wooden object. The drummer watches you closely “Warren, you came here to tell me you loved me. I need to know that you mean it—”

Warren gets up from where he was sitting, he approaches you, kneeling in front of you to show himself more intimate with you in some way. “I do, of course I do!”

"You know Rojas, I've loved you since I was sixteen years old." You sigh, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. "When I met you, I knew that I had no escape... My heart was already yours, and I never demanded that you love me the same way, I think I was always very innocent dreaming of the day that you'd finally tell me those words…"

He watched you intently, feeling his heart sink, he let you continue, so you do.

"I never expected you to love me the way I love you." Hearing the words in the present tense he held himself back from smiling, you still loved him. "I just think I hoped you had at least enough affection for me to respect me."

He knew you were talking about that night, he condemned himself so much for his wrong, childish and extremely rash actions. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know you've been a wonderful father to her over the last few months, and I know you love her." You settle down on the couch, staring into his eyes after so long, he feels exposed, vulnerable.

"But I've waited a long time to hear this." You say, looking down at your lap you see a drop of water fall and only then do you realize you've been crying. "If you love me, I need you to know how important these words are to me."

He observed you intently, his love for you palpable in his gaze. He had experienced the emptiness that came with your absence, realizing that living without you was an impossible feat. With a tender gesture, he gently brushed away the tears cascading down your cheeks. Helplessly, you found yourself surrendering to his touch, feeling an innate sense of belonging. Perhaps, deep down, that's where you truly belonged.

His eyes, like an infinite abyss, held a captivating allure that enticed you to delve into uncharted territory. Within that unknown realm lay your destiny, your purpose, your frustrations, and your deepest desires. He embodied your destiny, your missing piece, your soul mate. No matter how much you resisted, you always found yourself returning to this very place—where your hands intertwined, where each embrace felt like coming home.

In his eyes, you saw the reflection of a shared journey, a connection that defied logic and surpassed all obstacles. The bond between you two was unbreakable, as if it had been woven into the fabric of the universe itself. With every passing moment, the undeniable truth emerged: you were meant to be together, entwined in a love that transcended time and space.

"I have never loved and will never love anyone the way I love you." Warren slowly approaches you, as if testing limits. "I love you Y/N, and I'm so sorry it took me so long to acknowledge and say that."

His words wash over you like a tsunami, it's not like it made things any easier or took you back to the beginning but it was a relief, feeling like you weren't the only one feeling all of this. He leans closer, holding your face gently, feeling his touch again was relieving.

“Doll, when I came here to tell you I love you. I meant that." You knew this man like the back of your hand, you knew he was telling you the truth. "And Elizabeth is just an extension of both of us, so I love her by default. That sounds oversimplified, I know that," He was nervous, you could feel his cold hands against your cheeks. "My point is: you’re my family. Both of you. I’m ready for this, I promise,” He pleaded. He needed you to understand, and you did. You understood completely.

You smile, unable to contain it, you roll your eyes. "I'm really drunk right now, I'll probably forget about it all tomorrow, so you have a chance to change your mind huh."

Warren rolls his eyes this time, he sits down on the couch, holding your hands this time. "I won't change my mind, I know what I want, I've always wanted you. It 's you, my love."

You take a deep breath, it's all the drink's fault, you repeat a hundred times in your mind.

"I love you Warren Rojas." You confess, he smiles, a sincere smile that conveys relief and pure joy.

"Can I kiss you? Please…" His voice was barely a whisper, he yearned for you, and you for him.

You sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He looks at you with longing, curiosity, and need. "You must."

As the weight of your confessions hung in the air, a charged energy enveloped the room. Time seemed to slow down, the world fading into the background as you locked eyes with Warren, your hearts beating in sync.

With a mutual understanding, you eased yourself onto his lap, your bodies aligning as if they were always meant to fit together. Your arms encircled his neck, pulling him closer, while his hands found their place, resting gently on your waist.

In that moment, everything around you ceased to exist. The soft glow of the room seemed to intensify, illuminating the space between you. Anticipation crackled in the air, the weight of unspoken desires making the atmosphere electric.

As your faces drew closer, the warmth of his breath mingled with yours, a tantalizing prelude to the intimacy that awaited. His gaze bore into your soul, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing, curiosity, and an overwhelming need that mirrored your own.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the inevitability of the moment, allowing your lips to meet in a delicate collision. It started with a tender brush, a hesitant exploration, testing the waters of this newfound yet known connection. But the sparks ignited, and the kiss deepened, fuelled by a shared hunger and the unspoken promises of a love rekindled.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that mirrored the intensity of your emotions. It was a dance of passion and tenderness, a symphony of rediscovery and forgiveness. Each touch, each caress, conveyed a multitude of emotions that words could never capture.

Time lost all meaning as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading away. In that singular moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a timeless embrace. The weight of past mistakes dissolved, replaced by the sheer bliss of being in each other's arms once again.

You are interrupted by your little girl crying in the room upstairs, you break away staring at each other for a moment, you can't hold back and start laughing at the situation, hiding your face in his neck. He holds you tenderly, not wanting to let you go.

"Alright tiger, go get your kid." You say patting his shoulder, getting off his lap.

Warren goes upstairs to his daughter's room, he finds the little girl crying propped up in her crib.

"Hello there kitten." He whispers, the little one seems to calm down with the figure of her father, opening her chubby arms towards him. "Wanna get downstairs to mommy?"

The baby hides her face in the crook of her father's neck, which makes him smile as he remembers her mother's act a few seconds ago. He goes with her to the breastfeeding chair with the little one in his lap, and stays there making her sleep.

You notice the man's delay, and decide to go after him, going up the stairs slowly so as not to make too much noise and wake up Liz, who had probably already gone back to sleep. You arrive at the foot of her bedroom door, finding Warren asleep with the little one in his lap, her head resting on her father's chest, he hugged her gently like a treasure.

Your heart melts through the scene, these two were your everything, you never thought you would love someone as much as you loved them. You enter the room, taking the little one in your arm gently, she makes a face threatening to wake up but you calm her down before that, you put her in her crib then turn to Warren.

"Hey pretty boy." You call him out, gently stroking his knee. "Come on, let's go to bed and sleep."

He yawns, opening his eyes slowly, he is startled to not feel Liz in his lap, but you reassure him by pointing to the crib.

You leave the room, letting the door ajar after you leave. You start to head towards your room, but stop when you notice Warren going down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" You question yawning, leaning your body on the stair railing.

"To the couch." He clarifies, You roll your eyes, taking him by the hand and leading him to your room.

"You will sleep in our bed." He smiles and kisses you tenderly, you lie on the bed and talk until you fall asleep.

You took a chance on him then, just as you did when you moved to California. And you never looked back.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... Just so you guys know my requests are temporarily closed, so I can work on what you guys already asked me and also write the Warren's mini series I'm working on :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

Taglist: @lantsovcolors, @quezadaas @boredshit-shadow @jaidaschampagneproblems @warrenrojaswife @94namkooksworld (I couldn't tag you for some reason, send me a dm so we can try to resolve what might have been)

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ceilingfan5 · 1 year

Text

@taznovembercelebration sweet

“That music store guy hates my guts,” Taako announces, to no one in particular. You know, for the good of the order. Taako update from Taako central. “I’m either gonna kiss him or kill him.”

“If you’re going to verb him at all, I suggest ignore,” Barry replies dryly.

“Oh, I’m gonna verb him, alright.”

There’s a chorus of disgusted reactions. Taako doesn’t let it get him down.

“He’s gorgeous, for one, and plays the guitar, which is both a selling point but also a drawback.”

“Does he get good gas mileage?” Lup hollers from the back, where she’s chopping image candies at light speed. Barry is watching her around the corner and rearranging the gummy shelf meticulously, again. Oh no, the gummy pizza is out of alignment. Whatever will the gummy rat the size of a burrito the size of a baby do.

“This is just like that one musical where the two people that love each other can’t be together,” Taako miserates, staring out the window.

“Mhm,” Julia says. “The one,” snicker, “The, the one-”

“Yeah, Jules, you know, the only musical that ever had love in it.” Taako puts his hands on his hips. “Too many people work at this fucking candy store.”

“Some of us work at the fucking soda shop portion, sir,” Angus pipes up. “Besides, I thought you were rivals with the music store guy, whose name is actually Kravitz!”

“How did you know that, Abner.” Taako turns very slowly and dramatically. Everybody else would be sick of his bullshit, if anything else was going on, but it’s like one thirty on a Wednesday and they’re all sort of fucking off here. “What devil sacrifice did you make.”

“Only the devil sacrifice what taught me how to read,” Angus deadpans. Teens. “He wears a nametag, because he works in a store.”

“And?” Taako points at his own. “My name is clearly Julius Sleazor. You know, like the Pokemon.”

“Scizor?” Barry pushes up his glasses and makes a face.

“Kleavor, maybe?” Angus counters, like it’s running commentary rather than word noises Taako can hear with his ear cavities.

“No, I’m right,” Taako affirms. “Anyway, he can barely look at me. And he did that thing guys do when they ask what music you listen to so they can say they like better stuff.”

“Ew,” Lup says, wiping her hands and joining the rest of them. “Bear, your gummies aren’t symmetrical. But anyway, are you sure that’s why?”

“Yeah, maybe he just wanted to know what you’re into.” Julia shrugs. She taps a drum solo on the counter with the pens that look like lollipops, you know, for signing receipts. And getting super duper stolen but good, all the time. “Did you think of that?”

“He could be crafting you a mixed tape as we speak,” Angus says somberly. “You may only have hours to live.”

“Is he wooing me or plotting my death???”

“Both?” Lup looks at Barry.

“Both,” he agrees. “You’ll make a lovely drum, though. You’ll be remembered as bongos.”

“Man, fuck all y’all.” Taako leans on the counter. “I’m super gonna verb him when I get off work, you watch.”

“Ew,” everyone agrees, laughing, and as a customer jingles the door, they get back to looking busy. Taako can’t help but stare out the window, though. He has to know.

#taakitz #i guess?#taakitz fic #taz #taz b #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taznc

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cutthelights-if · 2 years

Text

RATED 17+

INT. BACKSTAGE - DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

The door to the dressing room swings shut, the quiet snick of a lock sliding into place. Five minutes until the shoot starts, yet you’re still rooted in place, watching as the script sitting on the counter flutters open. A reminder that for you, the breeze is never just the breeze. Just like how you feel an overlapping exhale, another presence that matches you breath for breath, you're never alone.

A rhythmic tapping to the left, the carpet muffling the sound of footsteps you know would be echoing otherwise. You’re awake, yet you feel anything but. A living nightmare, your horror electrifying your pulse.

“Stop,” you whisper, but the dead never listen, do they?

The cold settles over you like being submerged underwater. Stop. It punches through the cavern of your chest, holding you witness to the moment. Stop. Cigarette smoke lies thick on your tongue, cherry chapstick and the acidic tang of alcohol bitter on your lips. The last moments, the sheer desperation of someone trying to hold on a moment longer, fighting against a slowing heartbeat. You echo the sentiment: I am alive I am alive I am alive—

“They’re ready for you on set!”

SUMMARY.

Once a promising young actor, you fell from grace in a fiery blaze that left your name lying in the mud, and your reputation in tatters.

You'd love nothing more than to fade into the background, but the death of your reclusive mentor, a former Hollywood starlet and famed author, thrusts you back into the limelight. A tangled web of secrets and corruption is hiding behind a veil of glitz and glamour, and you're caught in the center of it.

Someone's ghost is begging you to bring them to justice. The public wants to tear you apart. Everyone is lying to you. The walls you built up to protect yourself are starting to fall, and at the end of the day you're not even sure if you can trust yourself.

CUT THE LIGHTS is rated 17+ for themes such as violence, strong language, substance use, and sexual content.

ROMANTIC OPTIONS.

ANDREAS PASHALIDIS | HE/HIM, 32: Fulfilling both the position of manager and (supposedly) bereaved stepson of your late mentor Julia Love, Andreas is the definition of hard-to-read.

Charming, charismatic, and witty, the fact that his coffee is always perfectly brewed is the least suspicious thing about him. Andreas knows far more than he's letting on, and you're starting to realize he's willing to go to any lengths to keep his secrets hidden.

HÉLÈNE VINCENT | SHE/HER, 25: Best known for her portrayal of the main character Arabella on the titular series Contact, Hélène was your media-appointed rival when the two of you were emerging as the next generation of child stars.

Acerbic and irascible, she'd love nothing more than to see your head delivered on a silver platter. You're not sure where it all went wrong. The both of you used to be Julia's protégés.

SENALI/SHIHAN PRIYASAD | SELECTABLE, 29: Former model and current lead singer of the band The Euphorics, they're practically your polar opposite. Loved nearly universally, S is award-winning, creative, and extremely good at anything they set their mind to.

Confident and ambitious, they're drawn to you for unknown reasons. The glint in their eyes tells you that their offer of friendship might not entirely be out of altruism though.

??? | SELECTABLE, ??: You'd really like them to stop trying to possess you, thanks.

FEATURES.

A customizable main character. Choose a personality, gender, and appearance.

Build a variety of relationships with the cast of characters.

Solve a mystery spanning decades.

Choice-based story.

A partially epistolary-style format.

LINKS.

PLAY THE DEMO.

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #if game #if wip #twine wip #twine game #cut the lights if

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kai-anderson-whore · 1 year

Note

Kit Walker x Reader where the reader always leaves little cute notes for him with a KitKat taped to the bottom of it. (KitKats we’re a thing during his time right?).

This is so cute

Kitkats (Kit Walker x fem reader)

Warnings: mentions of grace and alma

Taglist: @spill-the-t @iluwmycats @lili-tate @evanpeterswifeyy868 @jademunson @evanpetersfansblog @howtobesasha @lustforeverrrr @fand0mh03

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

You woken up bright and early like usual before kit got up for work, slipping out of bed your feet dragging your body into the kitchen making some coffee, once you made a fresh cup of coffee taking a sip of the bitter caffeine filled drink you were ready for the day.

Taking some eggs from the refrigerator and bacon you started getting breakfast prepared, as you waited on the cooker heating up you got to scrambling the eggs adding some salt and pepper, placing the eggs on the stove you then added the bacon in the pan onto other hot hob.

As if clockwork you were greeted by kit rubbing the tired sleep in his eyes, "morning honey" he smiled placing a kiss on your lips his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him, "can you wake the kids up for breakfast" you said against his lips kit nodded pulling away and got the kids up for school.

"Morning mommy" Julia yawned wiping the sleep away from her eyes sitting by the table, "morning sweetheart" you smiled plating up the food for kit and the kids, Thomas sat down greeting you with a "good morning" as you handed him a plate of food.

You all sat and ate breakfast, kit said he'd take the kids to school today like he does everyday since the school was five minutes away from his work, once the kids were finished they're breakfast as well as kit you grabbed the plates from the table putting them in the sink.

"Alright guys go get dressed for school" kit instructed lifting himself from the chair and into the bedroom to get ready for work, meanwhile you decided to pack the kids and kits lunches making their favourite sandwiches turkey and lettuce for Julia, ham lettuce and tomatoe for Thomas and kit.

You also added a piece of fruit to the kids lunch bag as well as a sweet treat with a note on each one a short one for the kids since they are still not great at reading longer things and one for kit taping the sweet treat at the bottom packing it into their bags.

"You ready for school guys?" You called out zipping each one of their boxes Thomas was the first one to walk out ready followed by Julia with their bags strapped on their backs, "honey have you seen my shoes?" Kit called out you could hear him rummaged through everything trying to find them, "they're at the bottom of the dresser kit" you called back chuckling, "got em" kit called back.

A few moments later kit came out dress in his work gear, "ready kids" he asked grabbing his car keys and his lunch the kids had they're lunch bags in hand nodding to their dad, "Let's hit the road then" he smiled leaving a kiss on your lips saying goodbye.

(Kit's pov)

Dropping the kids off at school I made it to work on time helping people with their car problems filling the gas in their tanks, fixing tires ect, it was finally lunch sitting at my desk I opened the lunch y/n made me with a smile seeing a note and a kitkat tapped to it with a smile I let out a soft chuckle at the fact she gave me a kitkat since it was her nickname for me, I took the note out opening it before reading the note.

Have a great day at work kitkat I love you so much and I'm proud to call you my husband and be a step mom to Thomas and Julia you three change my world for the better and I love you all so much you'll never know

Love y/n

God I love that woman so much she showed me so much light after grace and alma and I couldn't thank her enough, putting the note on the side of my desk having my lunch and back to work.

Later on in the night I got home from work with a spring in my step glad I'm back home with my wife and kids, "I got your note" I whispered into y/ns ear wrapping my arms around her waist while she cooked dinner, "I mean every word" she said looking up at me with her bright shining smile, "I love you mrs walker" I said placing my lips on hers, "I love you too Mr walker" she mumbled against my lips.

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agentsinlove · 10 months

Text

@captainsjack OKAY so thank you for giving me an excuse to share these unconnected snippets i have lol.

Ethan sleeps with Ilsa because he likes her, and he cares about her, and it seems like the right thing to do. She’s smart and beautiful, his equal in every conceivable way. She makes him laugh, he makes her smile, and their coupling seems inevitable. So after the showdown in Kashmir, once the dust had settled and Ethan had gained full faculty of his ribs again, he’d asked Ilsa out and made love to her after the last cup of dessert coffee had been drained.

It had been soft and sweet until it had been hard and rough, and it’s the best sex Ethan’s had since Julia, if he’s being honest with himself.

The morning after, they have breakfast in bed, and sex once more in the shower. Ilsa is perfect, and Ethan thinks that he’s in love. He wants more time to explore the idea, but the IMF knows that if he’s well enough to fuck, Ethan’s well enough to fight, and the team’s called together for a briefing with the new Secretary before being sent away on yet another impossible mission.

“Call me when you get back,” Ilsa murmurs into his collar at the airport, and before Ethan can say anything in return, she’s gone like a ghost into the crowd.

“First thing when I land,” he says into the empty space where Ilsa used to be. Then he shakes his head and makes his way towards his gate.

He’s surprised, then, to see Benji sprawled out over three chairs. He has four devices plugged in to as many outlets, charging happily.

“Ethan!” he says, shooting upright. His burner phone and his tablet clatter to the ground. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Ethan grins. “Same for you. It’s good to see you, Benji.”

Benji stands the rest of the way and pulls Ethan into a hug. Ethan grunts at the slight pain that thrums through his chest, and Benji—taking the hint—eases up.

“God, sorry! Forgot about your five broken ribs.”

“No so broken anymore, but definitely still a little tender,” Ethan replies. “You look good, too.”

Benji rubs at his throat. “Well, bruises heal faster than bones.”

“So,” Ethan says as his sits into the chair Benji graciously empties of tech bags for him. “Why the hell are you back in London?”

Benji shrugs. “It’s where I’m from, you know. I like to visit on the off days, when I can.” He pauses. “Should I bother asking what you’re doing here?”

Ethan’s too old to blush, especially for something so benign as romance. “Ilsa has an apartment here.”

“Ah,” says Benji with a nod. “Of course. How is Ilsa?”

“Good,” Ethan says, his smile a mile wide. “Great, in fact. Enjoying her retirement.”

“So, you two are…?”

Ethan’s smile falters just a little. “We’re...you know. Sure.”

It shouldn’t be a difficult question, he knows. And by the skeptical look on Benji’s face, he wasn’t expecting such a vague answer. But somehow it seems false for Ethan to say exactly what he and Ilsa are. Partners or lovers or significant others. They hadn’t talked about it all in their weeks together, but Ilsa had said to call and Ethan has been thinking himself in love. So then what, indeed, did that make them?

I’m too old for this, Ethan thinks to himself. So he turns to Benji and says, “We’re happy.”

Benji smiles at that. “Hear, hear.”

Ethan settles further into his chair and looks around the half-filled gate. He shakes his head. “Interesting choice to have us fly commercial.”

Benji snorts, already back to tapping at his laptop. “Sloan reminding us of our place, no doubt.”

They sit in companionable silence, Benji on his tech and Ethan reading a book. He considers texting Ilsa, but stops himself before committing to the act. He’s not sure it’d be appreciated. He tries to stay focused on his book, but with Benji beside him typing away and humming some song under his breath, Ethan has a difficult time of it.

He looks sideways at Benji, taking in the man’s profile. Benji looks older, it’s undeniable. His hair’s thinner, his face gaunter. The nature of the job has hit him harder than it’s hit Ethan, and it shows. Not that it matters, Ethan knows. Benji’s not usually the go-to for honeypot missions, but even if he were, he has plenty of other charms. Ethan knows them firsthand.

“Something on my face?” Benji asks, eyes still on his screen.

Ethan starts. “No. Just zoning out.”

Benji finally turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “If you say so.” He goes back to his screen.

Ethan goes back to his book, but he’s not any more focused than he was before. It’s a blessing when the attendant at the front kiosk announces they’re about to board. At least it gives him something to do besides think.

---

“Uh, Ethan,” Brandt’s voice clips over the coms. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” replies Ethan, curt. He sighs. “Just distracted today.”

“Well, fix it.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. He likes Brandt, really he does. But sometimes Brandt’s attitude is decidedly unwelcome.

“I know how to do my job, Brandt.”

“Apparently not. The target’s just exited the building.”

“Shit,” Ethan mutters as he stands nonchalantly and throws down a ten dollar bill for his coffee. His own exit from the cafe is casual, though it’s the last word he’d use to describe how he feels.

It all ends well when he catches the arms dealer mid-transaction two blocks down, but the fact remains: Ethan Hunt had fucked up a job because he was too busy thinking about Benji Dunn.

“So,” Brandt says later as Ethan’s en route back to their temporary base. “What was that about.”

He doesn’t want to answer. It’s not any of Brandt’s business. But the two of them share a strange and inexplicable camaraderie, knit together by their complicated shared experience with Julia, and Ethan can’t quite keep himself from saying, “I can’t stop thinking about Benji blowing up. I’ve dreamed about it the last three nights. It’s the first thought I have when waking. It’s the last thing I see when I close my eyes before I sleep.” He pauses. “It’s disconcerting.”

Brandt is silent for a long time. When he finally does make a sound, it is only an ambivalent, “Huh.”

“Thanks, Will,” Ethan says, irritated. Then he yanks out his ear piece.

An hour later, Brandt sends a text.

Don’t think too hard about it. Your brain knows he matters to you, that’s all.

---

“What about Julia?”

Ethan frowns. “I love her and would die for her.”

“So then what about Ilsa?”

The frown deepens. “I love and would die for her, too.”

“So then what about me?”

Ethan stares at Benji, silently. Not because he doesn't care, but rather because—as he realizes with a sudden startling clarity—there are no words or series of words in any language available to him to adequately express exactly how he feels about Benji Dunn.

“That’s about what I thought,” Benji says, apparently fed up with the way Ethan gapes at him.

“No, no, no.” Ethan stutters out. “It’s not that I feel nothing. I just can’t think of any words…” he chuckles, despite himself. “I can’t think of any words big enough for how I feel about you.”

That draws Benji up short. “Ethan,” he says, expression unreadable, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

The question lands like a blow, because Ethan hasn’t let himself get anywhere near that far when he thinks about how he feels about Benji. Where he’d pushed himself to believe he was in love with Ilsa, the idea of being in love with Benji feels absolutely terrifying. It’s too much, too real. It’s too precious. “I don’t think I know what means anymore,” he finally says. Then, “Are you in love with me?”

Benji’s expression shifts to something more openly wounded. “Ethan–”

Their phones chirp a split second apart, stopping the conversation short.

“It’s work,” Benji says, swallowing. “We have to go.”

Ethan grabs his shoulder. “We have to finish this.”

Benji grabs at Ethan’s hand, as if to shove it away. But he stops. His grip softens. His hand rests gently over Ethan’s. “Ethan,” he says firmly, but not unkindly. “It’s work. You understand what that means.”

And Ethan does. He lets go of Benji’s shoulder and steps back, hand slipping out from under Benji’s palm. It’s work. They have to go.

They can finish the conversation later.

#benji dunn x ethan hunt #benthan #my writing #mission: impossible

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coff33notforme · 2 years

Text

Bottom of the deep blue pt 2

A/n: It's finally here! Sorry this took so long I've been struggling with some mental health issues recently, but I hope you guys enjoy this because it took me so long to write. The first part is up on my page if you haven't read it yet

Warnings: Cursing and A TON OF ANGST

People who wanted to be tagged <3

@kimm4710 @thehybridprincesshatedchild @saspas-corner @shiloh-wiloh @zomo777 @angphyel @rottmntfan-julia @therapy-arts @soullessavacado @what-0-life @lovemangalove @msyolocat-blog @deadlyneko-chan

You sighed, you couldn’t sleep with this overbearing feeling of dread looming over you, making it impossible to relax your tense body. So here you were making yourself a cup of coffee at three in the morning, you suspected you weren’t going to be getting any sleep anyways. You throw your head back with an exaggerated groan, rubbing your heavy eyes hoping to rid the ghost of sleep that hung over you.

You stammered out of your small kitchen, stumbling and tripping over the large blanket that had been swathed around your figure, you hobbled your way into the living room, the icy air wrapping its hand around your throat. You felt the cold clawing at your backside, as your vent continued to mercilessly blow cold air into the already freezing room.

You let your body sink into the velvety cushion, wrapping the blanket tighter around your body. As you flipped on the Tv toggling through channels, absentmindedly.

You felt your eyes begin to grow heavier, it became harder to keep your eyes open, focused on the Tv in front of you. You allowed your eyes to sink into the somber, melancholy feeling of sleep. The soft tapping of rain pouring against your apartment balcony. But there was something different about this tapping. It was lucid.

Clink.

What was that sound? It was so familiar

Clink.

You grunted softly as your eyes fluttered open. The room still filled with darkness slowly began to fade to a lighter gray, as the transparent blue light of the moon was scattered onto the floor. But looming over the light of the moon, was a shadow.

Your eyes widened in fear. Your head snapped up to the window, to see a dark figure crouched on the rail of your balcony.

Your heart stopped.

As the figure approached the glass, a bolt of lightning danced across the dark sky, the light illuminated a familiar green face.You felt that familiar feeling of emptiness stir in your chest.

There standing on your balcony was, Leo.

You felt your heart twist and ache in sorrow as you met the guilty eyes of the blue turtle staring at you from behind the window, glazed with the cold rain that persisted on through the night.

You felt your mind go blank as you walked towards the window, watching this all happen from the back of your mind.

You opened the window, if not with more force than needed. Leo grimaced at your sorrowful state. Your glassy eyes were puffy and red, your hair messy and tangled. A feeling of guilt began to twist up in his stomach, he wanted to leave, for this whole thing to be over to go back to how it was before. But he couldn’t so he had to fix this somehow, he couldn’t let you hate him.

Leo smiled. He fucking smiled. He had the audacity.

But you remained silent. Your painfully antagonizing glare could say more, well your harsh gaze could at least express what you wanted to. Because you would crumble if you tried to speak, you had too much to say, so much you needed to say.

You sat there instead. And god did that make Leo nervous.

“So are you gonna let me in?” he joked leaning up against the window, the rain now coming down harder than before. You sighed, rubbing your eyes. Leo knew that look, he knew you were going to deny him.

Panicking Leo tumbled inside causing you to let out a shriek of surprise as you were sent falling to the ground as Leo clumsily knocked you over in his state of panic, frustrating you further.

You let out loud scoff, voicing your displeasure with the situation.

“Leo!” you exclaim, shifting to lift yourself from the ground.

As soon as you were off the ground you turned away from the blue clad turtle. “Leo, why are you here? I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want to see you again.” you murmur with your back facing him, not ready to give into his pleading eyes.

“I know, but I…I just need to talk with you okay? Just don’t kick me out yet.” he pleaded, the desperation evident in his voice.

Your face twisted into a sour expression, even just hearing him like this, it was bittersweet. But you couldn’t stand to face him. Not now.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” you replied, not sparing him a second glance. “You need to leave now, goodbye Leo.”

Leo wilted, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he watched you walk past him going to open the rustic window behind him.

No, he couldn’t lose you. If you would just listen to him, he was sure you could resolve this. He grabbed your wrist stopping you in your tracks.

“Just give me five minutes! That’s all I’m asking, just let me explain! And if you still don’t want to talk to me I’ll…I’ll leave.”

Leo gulped, choking on his words, silently praying you’d agree. That you’d let him fix this.

“Okay, You answer my questions and if I’m not convinced. You leave me alone.”

Leo felt a spark of hope, a joyful feeling stirring in his chest. But he couldn’t get ahead of himself yet, he had to convince you first.

“Why…why did you do all that?”

Leo froze, his lip beginning to quiver, his eyes now desperately trying to look anywhere but into yours, the seriousness of the situation was more than uncomfortable.

Leo was deeply unsettled by the tension in the room. All he could do was stutter out a couple of words.

“What?”

Leo's voice wavered while he spoke those two words, but evidently that was all it took to enrage you.Your face contorted to a sour mix of emotions, a strange twist of anger and hurt when you looked into Leo's guilt ridden eyes.

“What do I mean? When you decided to play with my heart for months? When you would kiss me and tell me you loved me more than anything only to go back to being buddies the next day? Thats what I fucking mean Leonardo!”

Your voice was like the whip of thunder, the sound of glass shattering. You could feel hot tears of frustration well up in your eyes. You hiccupped, your breath choppy. God, this was so embarrassing, you didn’t want him to see you like this, to know that he had such an effect on you. You turned away.

“I’m done Leo, get out of my house and never come back.” your voice was as cold as ice, it sent a shiver up his spine.

Leo began to panic, he needed you to stay, he couldn’t handle losing you.

“But before you go.” you paused, catching Leo's attention “Did you ever really love me?”

The way your voice shook, the hiccup in your voice, broke him. But he needed to be honest with you, you deserve the truth. He glowered, fixing his gaze on the ground, ashamed.

“I didn’t love you. I just needed someone to love me.”

The room was unbearably quiet; it felt like an invisible weight was pressing down on Leo's chest, preventing him from breathing. It was quiet, startlingly quiet. He felt like he was going to snap at any moment, he couldn’t handle this anticipation, he wished that you would do something, anything. Slap him, scream at him, anything but this.

But suddenly your tense figure began to shake. As uncontrollable sobs filled the room. Leo's eyes widened in concern as he briskly approached you wanting nothing more than to comfort you, he rested hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!”

You snapped whipping around to reveal the most heartbreaking sight, hot tears streamed down your red cheeks as your eyebrows were furrowed up in anger.

“Get out Leonardo! And don’t ever fucking talk to me again!”

You began to open the window, not wanting to hear anything else he had to say. Leo internally panicked, you were sliping through his fingers like sand. He needed to act quickly, stop you with something.

And then something clicked. Leo felt his mind go blank as if he was watching this unfold in third person. He grabbed you by the wrist pulling you into him.

Kissing you.

Your eyes widened. You paused for a moment, for a moment, this had felt sincere, it felt right. But you knew that this wasn’t right. He didn’t love you. You pushed Leo away much to his surprise, causing the turtle to fall to the wood floor with a sharp thud.

There was a moment of discomfort as he groaned, rubbing his head before his eyes met yours.

“I can’t believe you're so selfish, how do you continue to play with people like it's nothing!? I don’t want to waste anymore time on you, I fucking hate you Leonardo.”

Leo's eyes widened your screams of hurt no longer phasing him, as he looked away the burning feeling of self hate welling up inside his chest. He needed someone to love him so badly that he was fine breaking someone apart in the process.

You stood above him in silence before turning away, no longer able to look at him. Leo frowned, shamefully rising from the ground, turning and opening the window. He turned to you one last time.

“I’m sorry.”

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt angst #rottmnt fanfiction #heavy angst #fanfic writing #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt fanfiction

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 3 months

Text

aftermath 3

A dark blue, fish-eyed globe turns itself across the screen, starting in Canada and traveling eastwards around the world. Five words flash over the globe: TOTAL - TAKES - WORLD - TOUR - AFTERMATH!

A static flash to Fiji, at the beach:

---

Ass looks back to the other teams, all waiting in anticipation. Chris rubs his hands together, chuckling to himself as if he’s been waiting for this.

“Albert and Michela never kissed. Mal lied to… well… to cover for us,” Ass says. “Courtney and I are the ones who kissed.”

Max’s expression drops. Michela sighs a breath of relief.

Julia turns red.

“YOU… YOU WHAT?”

---

Then to in the plane, on the way to Sweden:

---

Max trails off again, and sighs. “I feel like if this doesn’t work out, nothing ever will,”

Kelly’s smile droops a bit and they turn away from Max.

---

The Title Card flashes again and fades into a pink, warm-lit studio. The peanut gallery is crowded now as former contestant upon contestant squeezes into the narrow rows. Patrick steps onto the platform and forces himself a seat between Alistair and O, elbowing them both out of the way to make room. Scruffy smiles as the camera settles on them, though they don’t look entirely happy. Peter waves both hands merrily.

In the other corner of the room, Joner, McLovin, and Sha-Mod are crowded around an amplifier, each holding a different colored plug as they scratch their chins and flip coins to see what goes where.

Finally, the lights dim. The audience chatter dies, blowing out like a candle. McLovin shoves a red plug into a blue socket and electrocutes himself, then lies flat on the ground as a single spotlight hovers over the center of the stage.

Then…

Nothing.

The audience waits for a little longer. The peanut gallery begins to exchange confused glances. Joner and Sha-Mod poke McLovin’s unconscious form until even he stirs.

A harsh whisper comes from backstage. “I don’t want to,”

“Well, I’m busy!”

“I’m busier!”

Finally, the sound of dull footsteps echoes across the dead-silent stage. Noco- shoulders slumped and eyes focused on his feet- trudges into the spotlight. He sighs dramatically as he pulls out a cue card and reads off it in a voice so monotone it sucks every ounce of charisma from everyone else on stage.

“Welcome. To the Total Takes Aftermath. I’m your no-co-host, Noco. Today we have a very special episode. So get ready for mayhem. Drama. And more drama,”

He sighs and tosses the cue card aside. The audience responds with scattered applause- though before Noco can say anything to sour the already rotten entrance, Caesar slides in.

“Thank you for your patience, everyone! We’re a little behind schedule today, but don’t worry- we’ve got an action-packed episode,” he winks. “Unfortunately, due to… a scheduling mishap,”

He pauses to glare sharply at Noco.

“Your would-be old-new co-host, Bonnie, has been sent out on the field! They’re traveling from continent to continent, interviewing Total Takes superfans!” Caesar says. His eye twitches. “Stay tuned for our first superfan, who is inexplicably Noco-Obsessed! Somehow!”

The peanut gallery seems to let out a collective groan.

“Didn’t you take that blonde bimbo out last episode? What happened to her?” Scary snaps. “Darwin help me, you romantics must have some kind of brain damage...”

Noco shrugs. “The date went fine. I picked her up, we went to a fancy restaurant, and then I talked to her about my theories for two hours. She hasn’t called back,”

“Unbelievable.” Scary says, completely monotone.

“ANYWAY! The schedule,” Caesar says, tapping his watch. His smile is as bright as always, but he seems far more jittery today. He leans in to mutter to Noco. “Remember that your little stunt has prevented me from even one conversation with Bonnie since they came back. You are on thin ice!”

Noco rolls his eyes. “What? I don’t like travel. I didn’t want to do it,”

Caesar looks like he’s about to wring his neck, but quickly straightens his posture and turns back to the audience as the overhead monitor lowers. “Now, let’s check in with Bonnie in… somewhere in the desert, USA?”

A loud static screech jolts the peanut gallery, forcing everyone to cover their ears as the monitor hums itself to life. The image finally settles in on the beloved goth, shielding their eyes from a cloud of dust whipping around them. Nothing besides Bonnie against the grayish-brown backdrop of sand is visible.

“H-hello? Can you hear me in there?” they shout into the microphone in their hand.

Caesar runs before the monitor, shouting as if they’re separated by a pane of glass. “BONBON! Are you okay!? Where are you?”

“Hell- I mean, California!” they shout back. “Who is that?”

“It’s me, Caesar! I’m so sorry about the scheduling conflict, if I had known-”

“BOOO! Get on with it!” Noco says, kicking back on the couch. He sets his feet on the table. Caesar’s eye twitches again.

“Alright… yeah, okay!” Bonnie shouts. “I’m here with, uh… um… What was your name again?”

The camera zooms out to an annoyed-looking teenage girl in khaki shorts and Tevas. She scoffs. “It’s Anna, interview-person-thing”

Bonnie grits their teeth and points at her. “Listen, you hippie-wannabe, I didn’t sign up for this, I’m not a people person, and if mauling you with my bare hands is what it would take to get back to the studio and see my best friend again for the first time in weeks, I would gladly do so. You do not get to push me around!”

“Wow,” Noco clicks his tongue. “Ruler of boundaries over here, huh?”

Caesar shoots him a glare. Back on the screen, Anna looks sheet-white. Bonnie sighs, mumbles an indistinct “Sorry” and then clears their throat. “Okay, so… You’re a Noco fan, huh? What’d you hit your head on?”

Noco glares at the screen while Caesar chuckles. The teenage girl on screen looks more than displeased. “He’s a hell of a lot better than you phonies. Noco keeps it real,”

Bonnie rolls their eyes as Noco cheers and snaps his fingers. “She gets it,”

“I like, like Total Takes, or whatever, but the drama is so fake! And I like, totally value honesty and genuineness,” she goes on. “I mean, let’s be real, these plot points- it’s like they were written in a drama show. Like, the ships? Totally rushed! The hate is so contrived! When Noco started pointing out the inconsistencies, I listened. As president of the Noco Fan Club in the Pursuit of Truth, I say Chris McLean RELEASE THE RECORDS!”

Bonnie grits their teeth while Noco claps in the studio again. “Again, nothing on Total Takes is staged,” they sigh, massaging their temples. “What the hell happened while I was on World Tour?”

Caesar shakes his head. “So much, Bonbon. I wish I could catch you up, but-”

The dust storm suddenly picks up and the two scream right before the screen fizzles out.

“Bonnie? BONNIE?”

Noco pops a stick of gum in his mouth and slouches on the sofa again while Caesar runs around the room, trying to get a better connection by pulling at cables and shouting at interns. He runs back in view of the camera, looking disheveled. “We’ll be right back!”

---

The studio fades back into view, scattered applause following. A silence hangs over the room for a moment before Noco sighs dramatically, sitting up and spitting his gum onto the floor.

“Welcome back. I’m your substitute host. Or whatever. I think Caesar’s on the roof, waving around the antenna to get a better connection. But while I’m here…” he stands, walking back and forth on the stage. “Let’s talk about my theories.”

“Do we have to?” Scary mumbles.

Patrick nods. “Yes, I’m with the freak. I’m tired of listening to you prattle on,”

“You’re just scared of the truth!” Noco hisses, pointing at the peanut gallery with pure malice. “I have proof!”

A sudden scoff from backstage. The peanut gallery turns to the source of the intrusion as a brunette in a bow walks into the spotlight, rolling their eyes. The audience cheers and they wave.

Noco says nothing for a long moment, his arms crossed and gaze pointed in no particular direction. Then, finally, he mumbles. “Staci, everyone,”

The crowd cheers again, and the aforementioned takes a seat on one of the plush chairs adjacent to the couch. “Hi, everyone! It’s so great being back!”

Another round of applause. Noco rolls his eyes.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but I just couldn’t help myself,” Staci says, gesturing towards Noco. “I read the evidence binder you left on the coffee table backstage, and I’ve gotta say- as an aspiring PhD student, that’s some sloppy work.”

Noco raises an eyebrow. “Sloppy? Please. I could put your whole life on blast without even trying,”

“That’s the problem! None of your research is academic, or even investigative, like someone would expect from a journalist making such a big deal. It’s “gotcha” journalism at best, and at worst… pure speculation with some unreliable sources. You know that eyewitness testimony is the lowest form of evidence in any field of science, right?” Staci goes on.

Scary snaps their fingers from across the room. Alistair shouts “Gettem!” and Patrick rolls his eyes.

“The majority of your “findings” are based on internet theories- and yes, I source-checked- and testimonies from former employees. As someone who was on Total Takes, I can say that none of the interns are reliable sources. Memory is fickle, and going through trauma- like all of us have on TT- can totes skew perception and behavior,” she pauses to smile. “I started a psych class last week. It’s really helping me understand people.”

The peanut gallery claps again, and Noco’s eyes lower.

“You know nothing. You’re like the rest of them- plants!” he snaps. “I’m a journalist!”

Staci scoffs again. “You’re a gossip columnist at best. Stalking someone’s social media isn’t “gathering evidence” it’s being a teenager,”

“And it’s immature- and rude!” Peter shouts from the audience. Staci nods.

Noco grits his teeth. “As if I’d trust any of you. Chris is paying you to keep quiet. All of you! My fans know!”

“Ahem- as an engineer, as well as an expert in friendship and romance, I’m pretty sure those girls just think you’re cute,” Staci crosses their arms. She looks thoroughly unamused. “You can go ahead and dig up whatever dirt you want on me- I’m a clean record. My blogs are all public access!”

Noco growls, standing up to shout before Caesar jogs back in the room, covered in wires and holding an antenna. “Back!”

The peanut gallery breathes a collective sigh of relief as their usual host tries to untangle the web of cords he’d cocooned himself in. “We, uh- had a little trouble with the connection, but I called some guys to check it out. Where are we?”

“Nowhere, really,” Scary grumbles.

Caesar’s eyes turn to Staci. “Stace! Got your segment done already?”

She shrugs. “Kind of. Ass is still backstage, though,”

“Perfect, someone bring them out. We’ve got a very special treat for you all today- welcome to our second-ever Second Chance Challenge!” Caesar says, pacing the stage quickly. “By popular audience demand, five former contestants will be competing right here, right now, for a chance to get back on that plane!”

The peanut gallery turns to each other as the audience ooh’s.

“No way,” a voice says from behind the benches. Ass walks back on stage, arms crossed. “No one in their right minds would get back on that death trap!”

“Not even for a million dollars?” O asks, eyes wide.

“Not even for romance?” Peter says. “You and Courtney-”

“Courtney is perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. They’re not stupid,” Ass says. “Besides, I had my moment. Let someone else take my place on death row.”

Caesar shrugs. “Fair enough. Now-”

A sudden ringing interrupts him and an intern rushes in with a phone. Caesar flips it open to listen to an indistinct voice on the other line. He nods along before suddenly going pale. “Grounded? What do you mean, grounded?”

The voice says something else and then the line goes cold. Caesar tries to put on a smile, but to no avail. “Haha… looks like Bonnie’s plane is experiencing some technical issues… and they’re stuck there for the time being! Hahahaha. Isn’t this great?”

“Mmm… I love my cell reception!” Noco says merrily, holding up his phone like a holy artifact. Caesar looks like he’s about to kill him as Ass steps into frame and leans in to whisper.

“Hey, Loverboy. I don’t wanna dig myself a grave in your personal biz, but before I left, Mal was blabbering something about one of the upcoming challenges being in the southwest U.S.. She’s a nutcase, but she’s good at predicting that crap,” they mumble. “Just saying.”

Caesar thinks for a moment, and then nods. He turns to face the audience. “And we’ll be right back- I’ll be right back, I mean. In the meantime, your co-host Noco will explain the rules of the game.”

“Game?” Alistair asks from the peanut gallery.

They turn to Noco expectedly as Caesar hurries off stage, pulling the Takes Three Trio with him. The sullen boy stares for a moment, and then sighs.

“We’ll be distributing these lame cans of peanuts. Some of them have a ticket back on that flying death trap. Blah, blah,”

“Let me guess- this is staged, too?” Scary says, rolling their eyes.

Noco sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Unfortunately, this one is real. I packed the peanuts myself,”

The peanut gallery cheers as a few interns distribute the goods. Scruffy and Staci clink their cans together, Scary tosses hers to the side and returns to her chemistry book, and O, Peter, and Alistair hold hands around theirs to manifest good luck.

“And one for Mr. Deep Blue Sea,” Noco sighs, tossing a can aside for Caesar. “This is dumb.”

The first cans open- O, Peter, and Scruffy sulk as they dump out their cans of regular old peanuts. Patrick growls in frustration (not in the metaphorical sense- he actually growls like a dog) and attempts to crush the tin can in his fist. After trying two or three times to make a dent, he chucks it across the room, nailing McLovin in the head as the Trio returns from backstage.

He storms over to Noco. “I demand a new can,”

“No can do,” Noco says, chuckling to himself before his expression turns sharp again. “All sales are final.”

“Listen here, you miserable little emo-”

Scary rolls their eyes. “Stop whining. You can have mine,” they kick their can over to him, and he nabs it with a victorious smile.

“Nerd,” he says to Noco as he tears open the can lid. A tiny, spring-loaded solid-gold Chris head pops out and punches his eye.

Ass pops a peanut in their mouth, watching as a Chris head jumps out of Staci’s can. She squeals. Alistair claps behind her as another shining golden host appears.

Caesar looks from side to side, cautiously surveying the stage as if he might be attacked as he clutches the can in his hand. He peels back the lid with a loud scrape, and… nothing. “Dammit,” he mutters.

“Hey, don’t worry, bud!” Joner says, holding his own Chris-infested can. Behind him, Sha-Mod and McLovin struggle to peel back the top on the latter’s peanuts. “If I get back on, I’ll get Bonnie for you!”

He sighs. “Thank you, Joner, but... I hope you don’t take offense to this, but I don’t have a lot of faith in you boys,”

“None taken!” Joner grins as the two other members of their trio open their can behind them, unleashing the spring-loaded Chris directly on McLovin’s chest, sending him flying backwards.

“And that’s our five,” Noco says, rolling his eyes.

Patrick walks up to the center of the stage with swagger, not unlike a peacock. Staci and Alistair follow, while Joner helps drag McLovin alongside them.

Caesar surveys the lineup and sulks, his shoulders slumping. Another intern appears, waving a phone out to him, which he begrudgingly takes. “Hello? OH! We’ve got a connection, someone lower the monitor!”

The large TV screen comes down with a mechanical whir, and flickers to life. Bonnie is standing in the middle of a sandstorm, shielding their eyes while coughing. “C-Caesar?”

“Talk about a mouthful,” Noco comments, standing.

Alistair scowls at him. “Is this really the time for your twisted sense of humor?”

The audio blips in and out as they speak. Caesar runs up to the screen, putting his hand on it as if it were a pane of glass. “Bonnie, can you hear me?”

“I can-”

The monitor suddenly falls dead, a black screen replacing Bonnie’s shuddering form. Caesar’s pupils shrink and he stares in disbelief as Noco walks back on stage, holding a plug.

“What? We have a schedule to keep, don’t we?”

Caesar’s eye twitches again. The five selected players, standing off to the side now, shake their heads in disapproval.

Staci crosses their arms. “Is it your job to make everyone miserable?”

“Uh, duh? I’m not called Noco for nothing,”

A distant-sounding voice comes alongside them. “You know what?” Caesar says. “He’s right.”

“Caesar, you don’t have to-” Staci starts, but he holds a finger to his lips to shush them.

“We’re keeping a schedule. Takes Three Trio- myself- we’ve prepared a special little song for Noco, to express our gratitude,” he smiles. “It’s all water under the bridge now.”

Noco raises an eyebrow, suspicious. Joner and McLovin salute, and Sha-Mod runs up between them, and all three of them pull various instruments from behind their backs.

Caesar adjusts his bowtie, looking rather calm, and then taps his microphone. “Hit it!”

The Takes Three Trio starts up a jolly jig as the host clears his throat. “Here’s an open letter to a treasure of a guy!”

Noco nods along. “Uh-Huh,”

“Whose behavior on this show always makes us sigh,”

“Hm?”

“He’s a nasty, lying schemer, who calls himself “your host!” Without the help of social media, his job would be toast!”

Noco opens his mouth to say something back, but every member of the peanut gallery delivers a quick “Hush!”

“He’ll call himself a journalist, but he failed his English class! He’s just so full of you-know-what, he has to double wipe his-”

“HEY!” Noco snaps. Caesar brushes him off.

“He started his own rumor show, under Blaineley and Josh’s nose, and when they found out he was fired and sent down here to host!”

Caesar points directly in his face. “He’s not the guy you think he is, so don’t drive yourself loco. He plagiarizes all his work, and his real name isn’t Noco!”

“He’s a phony, scheming, wannabe-host, and his real name isn’t Noco! He steals and lies, he’s evil, folks, and his real name isn’t Noco!”

Caesar stops between the Takes Three Trio and they shout the last line together. “It’s Isaac!”

Noco crosses his arms, glaring. He has nothing to say for a few moments, before finally clearing his throat. “You couldn’t come up with anything better? I-”

“Meep! Meep!” Caesar holds out his hand, folded to resemble a mouth.

Noco stares in silence for a few minutes. “Lies, and-”

“Meep! Meep!” the host flaps open the hand-mouth, cutting him off.

“Really? This is so immature. You’re-”

“Meep! Meep! Meep! Now, let’s get on with the show,” Caesar says, straightening his tie again. “Time for our Second Chance Challenge! One out of five of these players is about to play for another chance at the million! Staci, Alistair, Joner, McLovin, and Patrick- are you guys ready?”

No response. Caesar goes on anyway. “Time for Total Takes; The Board Game! Each of these squares in front of you represents one of our final contestants. Each has their own personalized challenge, depending on who you land on.” He tosses Staci a large foam die.

“Fail, and you’re out! Once you’re off the board, I’ll be asking you your final question. Whoever gets this query right gets a one-way ticket back to Total Takes. Ready?”

Everyone shakes their heads- except for McLovin and Joner, who high-five. “Looks like Staci is up first,”

Staci bounces the die in her hands for a moment before tossing it across the board. It lands on five, and she claps excitedly and runs across the spaces, standing on a tile decorated with Julia’s face.

“The Julia challenge- safe pick!” Caesar says. A table with a computer on it drops from the ceiling. “You’ve got two minutes to hack into this government website. Time!”

Staci stares as Caesar clicks his watch. “But I-”

“C’mon, Stace! You’re an engineer!” Alistair shouts from the other end of the board.

“Civil engineer, not software!” they cry back. They hurriedly type on the computer, but to no avail. As Caesar’s watch rings, they grunt in frustration.

“A valiant effort. Patrick?”

Staci kicks the die to the beginning of the board, and the aforementioned picks it up with a smirk. “Please… a little board game? What am I, five?”

Caesar rolls his eyes. “Just toss the die,”

Four. Patrick steps on Albert’s square and chuckles. “What? Do I have to hug a tree?”

“Close!” the host chimes. A tree falls from the ceiling, landing before him. Patrick raises an eyebrow as a belt of chains lands on his head, sending him to the floor. He begrudgingly stands, holding the iron.

“What’s this?”

“Your challenge is to chain yourself to this tree as this intern attempts to cut it down with a chainsaw! Chicken out, and you’re done,” Caesar says merrily, gesturing to a uniformed blond man, revving the biggest chainsaw Patrick had ever seen.

He gulped, but picked up the chains anyway, fastening himself to the trunk. “No big deal. I’m not chicken,”

The chainsaw whirs to life, but before the intern can even step onto the game board, Patrick wiggles free of his constraints and scampers across the stage.

“That’s what I thought,” Caesar smirks. “Joner-”

“Can we go together? As buds?” Joner says, holding McLovin’s hands with a pout. The host sighs, and then relents. “I suppose it’d save us some time. Joner and McLovin, you’re up,”

Two. They take exactly two steps forward, and stare at the pink tile beneath them.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Caesar grins. “Michela’s challenge: defend yourself from eighty-three hungry rats with nothing but a hockey stick.”

“What?” Ass snaps from the peanut gallery. “That makes no sense!”

Joner shakes his head. “No, that’s Miccy,”

“Very Miccy,” McLovin sighs.

Caesar hands them exactly one hockey stick and backs away as a nearby cage opens, and dozens of rats clamber out. The host watches with the peanut gallery, wincing as the two boys shriek.

“Okay…” Caesar says, making no attempt to stop the rats from carrying McLovin and Joner away with them. “Alistair- it’s all on you. If you can make it across the board and answer the final question, you’re back in the running.”

“Wooo! Go Alistair!” Peter and O cheer. He waves to them.

“I’m pretty confident,”

“Sure,” Noco murmurs from the suede couch. “All this friendship and smiles crap is making me sick.”

Alistair picks up the die and gives it a few good shakes before tossing it. It lands on a six, and he steps across the board.

“Kelly’s challenge- write a nice haiku about someone everyone hates,” Caesar reads off the cue card, tucking it back in his coat. “Say… Julia!”

“Hey!” Scruffy shouts from the peanut gallery. They are ignored.

“Oh, performance poetry! Simple,” Alistair says, crossing his arms. “Julia, so smart. She hacks, attacks, and bites back. What a piece of art!”

Caesar hums to himself for a moment. “I suppose I’ll count that as positive. Roll again!”

Scruffy crosses their arms and grumbles to themselves. “I could’ve done a better one,” Staci pats their shoulder.

Noco rolls his eyes. “Can we get on with this?”

Fren tosses the die again, rolling a five. That sends him off the board, and to the final question. Caesar pulls another card from his blazer pocket and clears his throat.

“As the rules dictate, anyone who answers this question correctly earns themselves a non refundable trip straight to Total Takes. Alistair- are you ready?”

The British boy nods, crossing his arms.

“Alright. Here’s your question: “What is Albert’s philosophical school of choice?””

Alistair pauses for a moment, rubbing his chin as he thinks. “It’s just at the tip of my tongue… it’s… Nigeria- no, that’s a country. Nickel? No…”

“You people can’t be serious. Are you all so happy-go-lucky and gullible that you can’t even recognize the core fundamentals of misery?” Noco snaps. Caesar tries to hush him, but to no avail.

“And you think I’m the phony. Well, I think all of you are naive, immature, annoying little rays of sunshine who don’t even know what nihilism is!”

A faint ding sounds, and the stage lights up in colors. The peanut audience gasps. Caesar glares. “Great! Look what you’ve done!”

Noco raises an eyebrow. “What’s-”

“Isaac, you’ve just won yourself a chance at a million dollars,” Caesar grumbles, massaging his temples. “You know what? This is fine. Fine! I can’t trust anyone to rescue Bonnie, but hey- at least we’re getting rid of him!”

“That boy’s gonna get eaten alive,” Ass shakes their head. The peanut gallery nods in solemn agreement.

A long pause follows, and then a wide, terrible grin spreads across Noco’s face. “Please. This is great! I’m finally going to prove everything I already know! Total Takes is pre-written, Max and Julia have been dating in secret, and everyone is miserable. I’ll see you suckers on TV, when I’m running my own show! This is my break!”

Caesar rolls his eyes as the former co-host walks off, making sure to flip off the audience before he disappears backstage.

“Well… that’s our time. Our next aftermath will be at the finale, so stay tuned!” he sighs, turning away from the audience. “I need to lie down.”

#total takes world tour #aftermath

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foolforharrry · 1 year

Text

Shopping Shenanigans

Word count: 2.3k

A little bit of shopping and some feeling with my two favourite characters.

These two characters are very personal to me so please be kind to them. I would recommend reading my other two oneshots with Harry and Julia. They're both on my masterlist.

I hope you like it 🫶🏻

One thing Julia has noticed about Harry in the month she’s been staying with him is that he has a passion for fashion.

Lounging around the house, it’s comfort before appearance. Out of the house? That’s where he likes to show off.

Whether he goes for the more professional, put-together look he does whenever he can’t work from home or it’s his more laid-back, experimental way of dressing he chooses when he doesn’t have anywhere important to be.

So there’s really no surprise that when Harry had been over the moon at the chance to share his passion with her when she, after a month, finally admitted that she might need some new clothes as the ones she owned were pretty much tearing at the seams.

This reluctant admission of defeat as she had put it occurred when Harry had asked her what was bothering her.

“How are you feeling about-”

Harry was stopped in his tracks as he witnessed the girl throw her worn-down, grey t-shirt on the floor in frustration. Her shoulders slumped in defeat without even noticing that he had come up to her room, leaning against the doorframe.

He observed as she sat down on the floor next to the discarded piece of fabric with a huff.

Did he know that it was probably not a good thing to hope for? Yes. But he still had a sliver of hope for Julia to let him get her some new clothes.

Sentimental value he could understand. All he wished was that the girl would own at least one set of clothes that doesn’t try to tear itself apart.

It’s the light tap against the white wood that had Julia’s attention turned towards Harry, a smile had immediately tried to cover up any negative emotions that had previously been written all over her face; “Hi, H. What’s up?”

“I was gonna ask you how you’re feeling about tomorrow.”, Harry started. “But instead, I’m gonna ask you what all this huffing and puffing is about.”

“So are you gonna ask?”

Harry laughed at the cheek of the girl, loving her personality that he was slowly starting to learn, “What’s all this huffing and puffing about, sugar plum?”

“My clothes are all shit, Santa Claus.” Her eyebrows pinched together in a frown, an attempt to seem more upset at the nickname than what was originally bothering her.

The gleeful smile that practically stretched from ear to ear made Julia want to bolt, already knowing what he was gonna say next.

“Wanna go shopping, then?”

And shop they did.

Harry hadn’t wasted a second to get their day in full gear, ushering her to get dressed and ready for breakfast. Where he double-checked with her that she was still down for the day Harry chose to refer to as his second biggest accomplishment in life.

Seeing how excited he seemed by the whole idea of renewing her closet a little, Julia can’t deny that it wasn’t rubbing off on her.

Enough of the guilt and fear that had made her so adamant about not letting Harry spoil her if she could prevent it had subsided enough to let her share in the excitement.

If Julia had the words and courage to articulate it to Harry, she would.

But until that day comes, she hopes that he can somehow still sense it.

“This one-”, Harry holds up a pink and blue Hawaiian shirt with little yellow dolphins along the bottom in one hand. “Or this one.” Bright orange and covered in shapes of pale green leaves.

After a short, internal deliberation, Julia nods to the second option. “Orange is a great colour on you.”

Harry snorts, but still lays it in his yes-pile, “Thought you said it made me look like Donald Trump with dyed hair.” While sorting through and making sure that her own piles are sorted the way they’d decided, through a round of which is better, she shrugs her shoulders. “It does.”

“And that’s a good look how?” He tried his best to sound offended. But there was really no hiding that he was still buzzing that he got her to agree to this.

“Trump was president, no?”

Curious to see where she’s going with this, Harry hesitantly agrees. “By some miracle, yes.”

Separating her no-pile into categories of tops, bottoms, etc, she explains; “So if you look like Trump two miracles could happen to you. You could become the president of the United States of America. Or someone would think that you were and give you your coffee at Starbucks for free.”

“Am I allowed to comment?”, Harry bites down his laughter as he goes through the same sorting grouping of his pile. “Go crazy.”

“I personally think I could become president without abandoning my morals and my good looks, thank you very-”

Harry doesn’t get to finish the first part of his conclusion before Julia bursts out laughing. A sound that warms Harry from his heart and out. Infectious, her laugh sets him off too until they’ve both forgotten what they were laughing about in the first place and an employee is asking them to wrap it up because there are other customers in the store who might want to try on stuff.

To be fair, they’ve been hogging two out of the three fitting rooms for far too long.

“Ok, let’s go before you get us kicked out.”, Julia says as she scoops up the clothes they decided on buying. Ushering Harry out with her as he scurries to get the ones they’re not getting onto the designated stand.

“It’s not my fault.”, Harry hisses after giving the employee an apology over his shoulder on their way to the register.

“Whatever you say, Santa.”, Julia hums, her smirk only growing when Harry playfully nudges her shoulder, making her nearly drop everything on the floor. She only laughs at the grumbled, “That was one time.”, knowing by his tone that he isn’t actually mad about anything.

Ever since the day they had been putting up the decorations in her room and Julia had walked in on Harry wrapped up like a Christmas tree, Santa Claus has seemed like a really fitting nickname. Especially since Harry insisted on giving her the most horrible nicknames all the time.

Two hours later, they’re both pleased with their shopping shenanigans.

Julia is trying her best to keep her emotions at bay, Harry’s playlist floating from the car speakers and soothing her enough to keep her waterline dry. But the lump lodged in her throat is serving as a constant reminder of the overwhelming emotions swarming through her mind.

The storm is still there when they get home. Still thundering between her ears as she helps Harry carry all their bags inside, feeling the deceiving smile ebb away the longer she keeps it.

A tap on her shoulder makes it dawn on her that she hadn’t picked up a word Harry had said, too in her head for it to be any more than noise.

“Where’d you go, tiny?”, he asks with a laugh and a headshake.

Swallowing hard, Julia gives him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I was asking if you wanted to help cook dinner or not.” Harry repeats himself, his expression falling into a more serious one. His concern grows as he takes in her demeanour. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Would it be alright if I just went to my room for a bit?”, Julia asks hesitantly, avoiding answering the last question. Her voice broke at the last word.

When Harry says yes, a bit taken aback by how her mood had shifted, she’s out of the living room as fast as her legs can carry her. He can hear her footsteps fade after she’s out of sight.

Sighing, Harry gets started on the cooking.

And activity he usually finds relaxing and a great tool to unwind if needed, but right now it’s doing nothing for him. He can’t stop going over the events of the day in his head to try and pinpoint where it went wrong.

Forty minutes and a finished lasagne later he’s still none the wiser about what happened.

Julia still hasn’t come downstairs. Instead of just sending her a text that dinner is finished, Harry chooses to go knock on her door and tell her instead.

When he doesn’t get a response or hear a sound from her bedroom his concern peaks. Nothing on the fourth time has him cursing and opening the door. If she really didn’t want him to be disturbed, she would’ve locked the door. Which she has done in the past. “You alive in-”

Harry stops in his tracks when his eyes land on her. The sad sight he’s met with is one she hasn’t shown him. Not once.

Unsure of what Julia needs in moments like these, he carefully approaches her.

Julia is curled up on top of her bedsheets. Back to the door and shoulders shaking. The only sound coming from her are tiny sniffles and chopped breaths.

It’s really no secret that she is crying, and it breaks his heart that she’s been up here all by herself.

She doesn’t even seem to register that he is in the room with her until he sits down at the foot end of her bed, the mattress dipping with her weight. The shift has Julia sitting up straight as if a gunshot had just woken her up in the middle of the night. Her bloodshot, glassy eyes are wide and the moment they land on Harry they fill with more salty tears.

Opening and closing her mouth, she is struggling to either find or get out her words as she furiously wipes the tear streaks off her reddened face, she comes up short and her shoulders slump even further in defeat.

“Do you want me to stay or leave you alone?” Harry selfishly hopes she’ll let him be there for her. Just the thought of leaving her alone again like this makes his stomach feel heavy.

“Stay, please.” It’s broken and he barely catches it, but it’s something. He twists his body so he’s facing her completely, sitting cross-legged with his hands in his lap. “Do you wanna talk about it?”, Harry offers, voice softer than Julia thinks she’s ever heard it.

Despite that, she shakes her head no, picking at her nails with a sniffle as more silent tears roll down her cheeks.

“Do you need a hug?”

Holding his breath, he can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she debates with herself whether or not it’s a good idea, her eyes searching his as if she isn’t really sure if he means it or not.

Looking away, she nods, “I do.”

Without wasting a second, Harry slides off the mattress and rounds the bed, plopping down right next to Julia instead. The moment she’s got his arms wrapped around her frame a sob wracks through her whole body. The first of many.

Her tears soak Harry’s shirt, but not a cell in his body cares as he rubs her back and tries his best to soothe him. “You’re gonna be ok, darling. I’m right here.” He kisses the top of her head, his heart breaking for her.

Harry knew he had come to care for Julia way more than he thought he could care about another human being in the short span she’s been in his life. But it’s not until now that it dawns on him just how deep that love runs.

Deep enough to make him wish he could take all that pain and hurt that this girl has had to, and still has to endure in her young life and take it all for himself.

And he would. In a heartbeat.

They didn’t talk about it.

Julia cried until she couldn’t and Harry, as he said, was there for her the whole time.

Once she was all cried out, she asked him if he was up for playing some UNO after dinner, voice scratchy. Harry knew that meant that she wasn’t ready to tell him what had happened, and he respected it.

“Thank you.”

Harry looks up from his cards, Julia’s suddenly small voice confusing him as well as what she’s thanking him for. “Are you thanking me to distract me from winning?”

Rolling her eyes, she puts her yellow three on the stack. “That’s UNO for me, Santa. I’m the one who’s winning here.” She ignores Harry’s huff. “And no, I was thanking you for everything.”

The sincerity and gratitude written all over her face, nearly have Harry wanting to tear up.

“There is absolutely no need to thank me, ok? I know it’s hard to believe given everything you’ve been through, but you deserve everything good in life, darling. Love, safety and anything else you want. It’s my privilege to be allowed to provide it for you. I only wish it would’ve happened way sooner.”

Now it’s Julia’s turn to tear up. She doesn’t believe half of it, but the fact that the words came out of his mouth gives her a sense of security she can’t really remember having felt in her life.

“Who’s trying to distract who from winning now?”, she changes the topic, not really prepared for all the heavy feelings that surround the topic they were inching their way towards.

Harry catches on and goes with it. Allowing her to take the lead on when and how much they talk about the hard things is something he decided on the day he met her. The last thing he wants to do is force her to feel or talk about things that she doesn’t want to or isn’t ready for yet.

“I’m going to crush you. Just you wait.”

I love them so damn much, you guys don't understand.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #one direction #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles concept #harry styles dad #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #dad harry styles #dadrry #harry styles writing

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saoirse-ronan · 2 years

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where are my reina/parisa girlies

#the way i manifested all these little moments of them thinking about how hot the other is #i love winning and also being right all the time #julia reads tap #the atlas paradox spoilers #the atlas paradox #the atlas six #julia.txt

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myceliumbean · 7 months

Text

Cars 2 Agents AU How did Rod survive III

Featuring: In which they rest

Summary: the agents were on a mission, and everything went wrong soon after they entered Russian airspace

Dammit, I just couldn't find a proper place for Rod struggling to tell them about his near-death experience and thus considering changing the chapter names

She's in golden red paint. Holley watched as Julia sneaked into the hangar, woke up Eva, bumped Boris' front tires with a cheerful smile, put down the boxes she carried, and waved goodbye to the team before leaving.

"Much like a storm of energy and cheers, right?"

"Wha- oh, yeah, she's…" Holley turned to face Alyona, who had taken out another cup of cocoa and sipping on it happily. Someone's goot to stop the forklift from taking in this much caffeine. "Is she even at your age?"

"Ah ha! Eva, you owe me one!" Alyona made a resounding "ching" with her tines. "Julia is much older than me, even Michaele, if you would like to know, maybe… let me think about someone… oh, she's like Boris' daughter, and I'm more like his granddaughter!"

The Ilyushin-76 in the background made a not-very-heartily protest and said something like "I'm not that old".

Eva chuckled and smashed the hude cargo plane on his front tires. "Aw, but you almost act like that, you and Zil are equally overprotective."

Boris rolled his eyes, and tilted to the side to take a proper look at Holley and Alyona. "Well, if that's how you want to phrase it, then I'm gonna adopt Siddeley."

Daniil choked at the unexpected words, and Michaele made a soft noise as he tried to bit back his laughter. Then, Alyona smacked the forklift on the back of his red helm, and the two bursted into laughter as they playfully chased down each other, driving circles in the big hangar.

Holley didn't realize she's smilling too, until Daniil drove up and tapped her with his tine. "You look good when you're smiling. Don't be too worried about your friends, they're safe with us."

"…thank you, Daniil. It's just- I don't know, I'm never afraid even we're pointed by guns and completely outnumbered." Holley shuddered as she recalled the feeling of Finn lying limp against her frame, or how cold Rod is when Finn told her the American spy had passed out. "I know it isn't good for us agents being too close or too attached to others, but I can't…"

"Get some rest." Daniil smiled warmly, as if he could read Holley's thought so easily like flipping a book. "You'll need it. Zil has so many things to tell you. I'll take Alyona to check on the other two agents, feel free to call us if you have any question."

"I will. Thank you, Daniil."

Watching as the two forklifts headed for the door to the hangar on the left, Holley let herself drift into her own thoughts.

Finn Mcmissile. Rod Redline. Siddeley. Even Mater, who they had mistaken as Rod. They're all great people.

Holley had joined the mission by accident. She's supposed to hand over the information and period. It was Finn who insisted that he'll need her help and pulled Holley into the center of danger. Not that she's complaining, really, she had learn so much from the field, and fron Finn himself.

If Holley's honest enough to herself, she's actually scared of how fast she became friends with Finn and Mater. Siddeley, on the other hand, was not really close to Holley, but they went well together, and their similar age made the interaction more like ordinary friends than mentor and mentee.

The jaguar would probably get lost in her thoughts forever if that bright red figure didn't stayed there for enough time at the corner of her eyes.

Holley didn't recognize that car. She casted a glance at Boris, but the big guy just continuously reading his book and use his wing to cover Siddeley up with some piece of canvas everytime when the Gulfstream V shuddered in his coma and caused the canvas to slip off.

But as far as she knew, the hangars near this one were control areas, no way they're allowing some random vehicles wandering around like that.

Holley looked at that red car, who might be a jaguar too, and got a look and a smile back.

Chrysler, why on the world was this stranger smiling at me?

That bright red jaguar waved a front tire at Holley and quickly headed to the right side of the hangar, opened the door, and disappeared behind it.

"…um, Boris?"

"Yes, Ms. Shiftwell." The Ilyushin moved his gaze from his book to the small purple jaguar. "Anything wrong?"

"Well, that red jaguar… is it fine to let someone else in? Or is the car part of the team?"

"Ah, him." Boris somehow sounded amused. "He's fine, Zil called him in for some security assistance."

"Oh, I see. Maybe I'm too worried about my friends… will you mind if I take a nap here?"

"No. Just suit yourself, Ms. Shiftwell, I'll look after you guys." Boris said certainly. "I'll wake you up if they're awake."

"That will be appreatiated, thank you. And just call me Holley."

"Good. Now sleep, Holley, Zil's gonna push you to the very end of your strength."

@longjiaojiao had joked about Julia being Zil and Boris' adopted daughter, and I think putting this in would be fun, as Eva was almost the same age as Boris (and they're both a bit younger than Zil) and one of her best interests is teasing her relatively more serious colleagues

Alyona, by the way, is the youngest of the team, even might be younger than Holley, while Siddeley being a bit older than she in this AU

And congratulate to our ghostly-wardering-around and having-too-few-canon-scene C.H.R.O.M.E. agent, Leland Turbo for making his debut in the AU!

#my own post #lj cars2 agents story #boris ilyushin chkalovsky #alyona (cars oc)#eva (cars oc)#Daniil (cars oc)#michaele (cars oc)#holley shiftwell #Julia (cars)#leland turbo

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justzawe · 2 years

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Zawe Ashton Isn’t Here to Be a Victim of Your Projections

The actress was never offered a period piece until “Mr. Malcolm’s List.” She was given 24 hours to decide whether to do it. Now she’s earning raves.

“I haven’t necessarily had the privilege of being cast as the hero,” Zawe Ashton said. “And that’s OK.”

This was on a recent steamy afternoon, and Ashton, 37, a star of the Regency-era romantic comedy “Mr. Malcolm’s List,” had cast herself in the role of a woman eating a hurried lunch at the New York office of a film company before heading to the airport. Low-key glamorous in bare feet, a black slip dress and a sweatshirt that read, “There Are Artists Among Us,” she radiated a particular mix of seriousness, playfulness and a questing intelligence.

While the more gossipy corners of the internet know the London-born Ashton as the fiancée of the actor Tom Hiddleston — they met during a benefit reading of Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal,” which they later performed on Broadway — she has been a professional actor since elementary school and a playwright since her 20s. She has devoted most of her career to playing and writing about outsiders. Julia, a Regency belle, wouldn’t seem to be one of them. Ashton disagrees.

“I think she is,” she said. “There’s something she’s not settling for.”

This probably explains why Ashton infuses Julia with a kind of wildness, a hint of waywardness under and around the sparkle. While the reviews for “Mr. Malcolm’s List” have been mixed, Ashton has earned raves. She dominates, a critic for The Hollywood Reporter wrote, “with her razor-sharp comedic timing ensuring thrilling delivery of her tart lines.”

Next summer she will appear in the Nia DaCosta-directed “The Marvels,” the follow-up to “Captain Marvel.” Reportedly, she will play the villain. And — after Ashton revealed her pregnancy during a recent screening of “Mr. Malcolm’s List” — at least one more debut is anticipated. Sensibly, she does not talk much about her personal life.

Over salad, she discussed period dramas, playing women on the edge and finding truth underneath the corsetry. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

You look like you’re having so much fun in this movie. Are you?

I really am. We all really are. We filmed it in a very intense wave of lockdown in Dublin. Our only bonding time was on site, doing the work. We weren’t even allowed to go to a pub. So there was this really rewarding element of coming together in group scenes and working off each other and understanding each person’s unique rhythm. That’s where some of the comedy is coming from, certainly where a lot of the flirtatious energy is coming from.

You haven’t done many period pieces. Why this one?

The big conversation that’s happening now around representation in period drama is very, very real. The reality is you can be acting for a long time and not be called to that table. There’s a sort of indifference that turns into mystification that turns into sadness around that. This was the first period piece I’ve ever been offered. I had 24 hours to decide, and then it was sweatpants to corsets.

What can you tell me about Julia?

What I really loved straight off the bat is where we find her, which is coming out into her fifth season in society without having made a match. It has a little tinge of a woman on the edge. She doesn’t want to be a victim of that society, so she rages against the machine. She does some questionable things. But I hope by the end, she has this humbling redemptive moment where she does find a love match with someone who loves her for her flaws, rather than despite her flaws.

What unlocked her character?

One of the first things I had to do was tap into something very truthful and authentic. Freida [Pinto, her co-star] and I had conversations about picking up something that felt more culturally specific to us. That was a real breakthrough. That you can leave the Austenification behind and find something that chimes with your experience. Then we had an amazing historian. She was really helpful with stuff like how you would drink tea, how you would walk through the streets of London with a man that you’re related to or not related to. That led to the physical life and then costume, hair and makeup, stepping into a corset, stuffing into a bonnet.

Over the last decade you haven’t done many comedies. Why do a comedy now?

I joined a very intense movie club during the lockdown. We watched a movie every night and fed back to each other at the end of every Saturday with Sundays off. We went really high and deliberately quite obnoxious — Bergman, Tarkovsky, Rohmer, Bresson. There was a catharsis there, but I definitely have been looking to escape much more through the work I’ve been doing, the people I want to inhabit.

Your next project is “The Marvels.” Was a superhero project another escape?

I was moving away from acting for a lot of the past five years or so. I did “Betrayal” here in New York without representation [an agent], and, at the end of that, I signed up with some people and I said, I don’t necessarily want to start feeding the machine. I would like to just meet with first-time female directors, or fledgling female directors, specifically directors who are coming from underrepresented backgrounds in our industry. Emma Holly Jones, who directed “Mr. Malcolm’s List,” being one of them. I got set up on a call with Nia DaCosta where we really connected. It was just a seeing of souls. And on the other side of it was a phone call asking me to be part of her new job.

Rumor has it you’re playing a villain in that film. Or maybe you’ve complicated the idea of a villain?

I don’t really know any other way of going about it, to be honest. I have to start with something real and emotional and authentic and build out from there. I have to understand the deeper meaning in my head.

I read about your engagement to Tom Hiddleston. Is it true you met doing “Betrayal”? Because the marriage in that play is not a good marriage!

Oftentimes, the most distressing, deep work has the happiest companies. The play was called “Betrayal.” But the play behind the scenes was absolute trust.

Well, I’m still hoping that your marriage works out better. It’s funny, you’ve been in this business for nearly 30 years, but when I Googled you, the top results all had to do with your personal life. What’s it like to experience this kind of scrutiny?

As a woman in this industry, you become quite attuned to your identity as an artist shifting in proximity to different people. That’s not specific to dating someone. If there’s a conversation I would have off the back of this question, it’s really about letting women in this industry know that whatever point of career that you’re in, shore up your identity and reason for being, because people will project onto you in the most intense way. When that happens, you have to have an internal anchor. You have to be delighted and joyful in the work that you do. I’m not here to be a victim of projection. I’m here to continually grow as an artist. (x)

#zawe ashton #the new york times #interview #article #mr. malcolm’s list #mml promo #the marvels

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banannabethchase · 6 months

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I'm Only Human (You Are Something Magic) - also on AO3

Brandon gets hit with the magic belonging to Julia and Brody, and has a mostly horrible day about it. Only mostly.

Bingo square I2 complete, and my fourth bingo on my board! I only have 6 more squares before Black Out. Wahoo! Title, as with all of the series, from Moonlight Magic by Ashnikko.

Brandon was just trying to find the EVP locker room.

The entire venue’s labels for the locker rooms had been scrambled around, due to some bullshit probably caused by Caster or Chuck or, god, Silver. He’d already walked in on Willow and Skye arguing, and on Garcia and Yuta doing something similar but involving their dicks out.

He didn’t need to crash into the House of Black’s locker room and get slapped in the face with something that made him feel both neon and strangled at the same time.

“Guys,” he says, forcing the words out through some strange, foamy version of air. “Something’s wrong.”

“Of course something’s wrong!” Julia snaps. “You’re in our locker room.”

He can see her – her eye. It’s not black. It’s every color he’s ever seen in the universe and then some he can’t name, but mostly green. God, so much green. He thinks he can see the entire galaxy’s plan there, but he doesn’t know how to read its language. “I – I can see in your eye,” he mumbles. “The Elite are in locker room 116, aren’t they.”

“By the gods,” Malakai mutters.

Brandon turns to him, only to see Malakai’s entire body lit up with the same exuberant color combination as Julia’s eye. “Why are you not all in black?” he asks, frowning. “You – what – your skin is…Teal? Blue?” He blinks and shakes his head. “What the eff is going on here?”

“If there was ever a moment that earned a curse word, this would be it,” Brody says. His colors are centered around his hands, fingertips wrapped in pastel pinks and blues that manage to shoot into the room. “You took our magic.”

“I – what?!” He looks between the three of them, suddenly inundated with the sheer knowledge. “I took your – not on purpose!” He looks down at his hands, and he glows yellow and blue, the same color as his gear. “Aw, man! I don’t even like those colors together!”

“They suit you,” Julia says. “Thief.”

“I’m not a thief if it wasn’t on purpose,” Brandon groans. “I didn’t – help!”

Malakai frowns. “We – I will. But they,” he nods over to Julia and Brody, “are all but powerless at the moment. I’ll need to do some digging. Explore the texts.” He sighs. “I’ve never had the magic go rogue before.”

Brandon’s first thought is to ask what texts, but then the answer presents to him as if conjured from the air. “I didn’t – you guys have actual powers?” He stares. “How is that possible?”

“There are powers beyond the science you mortals are taught in schools.”

Brandon blinks at him. “Mortals,” he repeats. “What the hell, is this Percy Jackson or something?”

“Please,” Julia says, folding her arms across her chest, managing to look menacing even when pocket sized and glowing a soft mint green. “Malakai’s been gifted eternal life for the work he’s been doing to maintain the balance of energy in the universe.” She pouts. “And he was sharing it with us, but then he took our magic away.”

He turns to Julia. “Yes, because you began messing with people’s love lives without asking.”

Julia rolls her green eyes. “Kris and Willow weren’t complaining this morning.”

“Actually, they were,” Malakai snaps. Brandon watches as Julia’s eyes widen.

Julia shrinks back. “Oh,” she says, fiddling with her fingers. “It was last night, anyway, and it’s over. So you can’t be too mad.” She shrugs and taps her sharp fingernails against each other. “Really, Malakai, you can’t think that we’ve only done this twice.”

Malakai sighs, a tone Brandon recognizes from whenever Hangman is dealing with Matt’s particularly chaotic moments. “Okay,” Malakai says. He looks dangerous, colors deeper and more jewel toned as he locks eyes on Brandon. “You tell no one about this. You may have the power of two, but I hold the power of all.” He moves his hand to prove it, and the strike of color is enough to make Brandon understand the potency of his magic. He knows what Malakai can do to him. He knows what Julia and Brody could do, before he’d absorbed their powers.

“Wait,” Brandon says. “What can I do?” He looks down at his hands, swirling color and power. “Can I make things appear by thinking about them?” Into his hands pop a can of Diet Coke. “Oh. I can.”

“No,” Malakai says. “Don’t you dare do so on purpose. You be careful what you say. You never know what the universe will interpret as a command.” He stares at Brandon, telling him so much with a look that Brandon can’t quite figure out. “You don’t know how to use this skill. For you, it’d be akin to trying to lift Paul Wight.”

Brandon rolls his eyes. “Sure. Tell me, a brand new magic using person, that my power can be misunderstood from the universe.” He leans against the door. “That’s a kick in the pants.”

Brody yelps and jumps. “What the hell, man?”

Brandon’s eyes widen. “What?”

“You made the – I got kicked,” Brody says, frowning. “Watch the metaphors, you idiot.”

“I – I’m sorry,” he says. “I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll be careful.” He wants to prove it. “Um. I hope you feel better.” He puts some sort of intent into it, stares at Brody.

“The fuck is he doing?” Brody asks, and he turns to Malakai, looking baffled. “Malakai, what the fuck is the stooge doing?”

“Don’t be mean about it,” Brandon grumbles. “I’m trying to, like, unkick your pants.”

Brody stares at him so intently Brandon thinks he’s about to get murdered, then he exhales. “Jesus Christ.” Brody drops on the chair and grabs Julia’s hand, pulling her in his lap.

At least that’s confirmation Brandon was right about something. He’d suspected.

“Go out and – and pretend you’re normal,” Malakai said, sounding exasperated. “And watch yourself with what you say. You could cause a problem.”

Brandon opens his mouth, but thinks better of it. “Okay,” he says. He steps backward out of the House of Black’s locker room. “You have my number, right?”

“No,” Malakai says. “But I don’t need it. You’re leaving a massive trail of magic behind you. I’ll easily find you.”

Brandon tries not to react at the disgusted expression on Julia’s face, and walks out of there, frustrated. He almost slams into MJF as he walks down the hallway.

MJF looks him up and down. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Brandon snaps. “I’m fine. Go talk to Tony or something.” It takes a second for him to understand the reason for MJF’s newly blank stare and sudden change of direction. “Only if you need to!” he calls.

MJF throws a bewildered but still pretty pissy expression over his shoulder, but Brandon exhales. If he ignores people, he’ll be okay.

He cannot ignore people. Matt insists on a BTE bit where Brandon accidentally turns one of the Iron Savages’ hair blue, Tony involves him in a media interview where he stays quiet until he figures out how to answer questions with yes or no weird answers without a single metaphor, and he runs into Buddy Matthews, who stomps away and glares at him. Which, while not unexpected, was kind of a cherry on top of a bad day. When he finally gets to the gym, he puts on his headphones and tries to block it all out. Pushing his body to the limit, an ache in his legs and arms, helps quell the anxiety. A little bit.

He’s about to leave when he sees that Mox has made his way into the gym and was on the rower. He sighs.

U want me to talk 2 Mox for u?

Matt texts back in the group chat almost immediately. omg yes please I owe you my life

Brand squeezes his eyes shut. He can do this. He can talk to a human today and not accidentally magic them into dying or something. Just like every other day of his life.

“Mox!” Brandon says, jogging over. “Hey. Bucks wanted to ask you a question about that mentorship program that you were brainstorming, but they haven’t caught you. Wanted to know what you thought.”

Mox pauses mid row. “Oh, for the wrestlers under 23?” he asks. “Yeah. I figured we’d create an application process or something with basic personality details, style of wrestling, whatever, then match mentors to mentees.” He begins rowing again, faster than before. “Make sure none of the young kids fall through the cracks, you know?”

Brandon stays there as Mox gives him details, typing furiously on his phone. They talk for long enough that Mox’s timer on the rowing machine beeps and he leaps up, shrugging off his hoodie. Brandon might have his eyes on a certain Dark Order member, but he’s the first to admit that Mox has been looking great lately.

“I’m shit at technology, so I figure you and a Buck or whatever can figure out how to make the form.” He mops his sweaty forehead with his hoodie and Brandon thinks he does a great job of pretending this is normal.

“I appreciate you, Mox,” Brandon says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You always go the extra mile.”

Mox frowns. “I – I’ll be right back.”

Brandon watches as Mox begins to circle the small indoor track, looking befuddled, before he realizes what he’s done. “Wait!” he yells. “Don’t – do run more than your usual workout expects you to!”

Immediately, Mox slows to a walk on the other side of the track, expression displeased. “The fuck was that?” he mutters. “I never run.” He shakes out his body, looking baffled. “Whatever. CC me or whatever on the email you send to the Bucks, okay?”

Brandon nods and tries to choose his words carefully. “I hope your workout is good! I’ll see you later.”

Mox nods and bounces on his toes. “I think I’m gonna hit the weights again.” He rolls his shoulders, shooting a grin at Brandon. “I’m feeling jacked today, you know?”

Brandon sighs as he walks away. He still can’t figure out what the universe takes as a command and what it ignores as he makes his way around the venue, checking in with people and trying to gauge which phrases can be taken the wrong way. He worries, briefly, that he turns Orange Cassidy into a literal orange when all he did was say hello, but the orange gleam in his eye was fleeting and disappeared before Brandon could blink. He considers it a non-issue and makes the choice not to think about it anymore.

“Brandon!”

He whirls around and sees Alex Reynolds’ head popping out of a locker room. “Hey.”

Brandon feels his entire body flush with warmth. “Hi,” he says, and he really doesn’t want to do this right now, not when he could ruin anything with a bad idiom or a pun. “Hi, Alex.”

Alex wiggles his eyebrows. “Got the locker room to myself,” he says. “Wanna come hang out?”

Brandon knows what that means. And he’s not able to resist. He looks behind him to make sure nobody’s watching, then skips down the hallway and slides into the locker room.

Alex looks like a dream, his hair resting down his shoulders and beard looking irresistible. “Hey.” Brandon says. “How – how are you?”

“Really?” Alex asks, stepping toward Brandon. Brandon leans against the door to close it, widening his stance so Alex can step between his legs. “How are you? That’s how you’re gonna start this?”

“I think you started it when you invited me in here,” Brandon says. He kisses Alex slowly, taking his time. “Hi,” he murmurs against Alex’s lips. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Alex replies. He pulls back and kisses Brandon’s nose. “How have things been?”

Brandon opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. “Um. Really strange,” he decides to land on. “Like, super weird.” He thinks about how he could explain things to Alex without something going horribly wrong. “I ran into the House of Black.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” Brandon says. He double checks that the door is locked. He doesn’t know why he’s willing to tell Alex, to drag him into it. But he does think his chance at a blow job is lower if he says the wrong thing and turns Alex into a llama or something. “Watch what happens when I say this: Your hair makes you look like a shampoo model.”

For a second, Alex frowns, looking confused. “What am I supposed to be watching?”

Brandon frowns. “Um. Something should have happened.” He tilts his head to the side. “Wait, shake your head a little or something.”

Alex shakes, and there it is. His hair cascades in perfect, shiny locks around him in slow motion, the look on his face a content, pretty smile.

“That’s what I mean,” Brandon says. “Here, move in front of the mirror.” Alex goes easily as Brandon leads him to the bathroom. “Now shake your head again. Just like you did, but keep your eyes open this time.”

Alex does as Brandon suggests, and his eyes widen. “My hair moves in slow motion,” he says, almost muttering to himself. “What the hell, Brandon?”

“It was – I don’t know what happened, I swear, but the House of Black has some wild powers and they got, uh, into me.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “They put their magic into you? Is this a weird way to say you’re fucking somebody else?”

“No!” Brandon says. “No, not – that is not what I mean. They literally put their weird magic into me by accident so now I can do…” He pauses. “Stuff. I don’t know how it works. Malakai’s trying to get the power out of me, though.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “But you’re still, like, in your own mind, right?”

“Yes,” Brandon says, and he can’t resist a smile.

“Get over here.”

Alex yanks him in and kisses him and shoves him back against the door. When he drops to his knees, Brandon’s pretty sure he sees God, and she’s giving him a thumbs up.

He tangles his fingers in Alex’s perfect hair, revels in the warmth of Alex’s perfect mouth, and slides his fingers into Alex’s when he comes.

“Damn,” Brandon pants, trying to find his legs underneath him as he comes down from it. “Get on the couch or something, I have to do you next.”

Alex stands, grinning. “Yeah?” He shakes his head and he goes in slow motion again, his frown appearing at the same pace. “Any way you can make that stop happening?”

“Oh!” Brandon says. “Yeah, probably. Um. You have your normal hair without any magic in it.” Alex shakes his head and goes back to normal. “That should be good.”

“Can you use that magic to give me, like, a giant dick or something?” Alex asks, flopping onto the couch with his legs splayed. “That could be fun.”

Brandon’s face turns hot. “It could…” He shakes his head rapidly. “No. Not gonna risk that. I don’t know how these powers work. I could – I could make a mistake and hurt you.” He doesn’t explain, out loud, that he’s worried he’d make Alex’s dick a giant snake or inflame his bladder or something. “Take your pants off.”

Alex does so and Brandon doesn’t hesitate to dive in. They’ve been doing this long enough that he’s pretty much figured out what to do, but it’s still fun. It still feels fresh and new and exciting, and he’s wondering if and when that will change.

He swallows Alex down with a grin and pulls off, wiping his mouth on Alex’s pants.

“Hey!”

“You’ll live,” Brandon says. He pulls himself up on the couch next to Alex as he adjusts his pants. Alex pulls out his phone and they scroll through twitter together until Brandon gets a text.

“Oh, damn it,” Brandon sighs. “I have to go meet up with the Bucks and everybody for early dinner before production meetings.”

Alex leans in and kisses him softly. “We’ll talk later,” he promises. “And, uh. Good luck on that magic thing. Hope you figure that out.”

Brandon smiles at him. “Thanks.” He turns to the door and leaves, but glances over his shoulder one more time to see Alex watching him leave.

He’s floating a little bit as he walks to the café, but he loses his bliss when he sees Nick looking annoyed at his table.

“Oh, thank god,” Nick laughs, a little panicked. “They’re being – weird again.”

“We are not!” Matt argues. “I’m just hungry, and somebody was late.” He glares at Brandon.

“I have a life, you know.” He drops into his seat. “You all could have eaten without me.”

“We couldn’t have,” Matt says. “You’re our friend. We’re waiting for you.”

He exhales, trying to pretend Matt isn’t infuriating. “Okay. Fine. Let’s just – let’s get our food.” Nick shoves a ticket in his hand and Brandon looks down at the meal card. “Not even writing my last name on here anymore? Really cutting corners, Nick.”

Nick frowns and falls off the bench, clipping the edge of his arm on the table as he goes down. When he pops back up, he’s got a slice on his arm seeping bright red blood. “What the eff?” he mutters, staring at his arm. “That corner feels like it came out of nowhere.”

Brandon pauses. “Damn it.”

“Damn what?” Nick asks, grabbing a paper towel to mop himself up. He drops down onto the bench next to Matt again, eyeing the table suspiciously.

“I – nothing,” Brandon says. “It’s fine.” He scans his brain, trying to figure out how to turn off whatever curse he put on Nick.

“It isn’t fine, clearly,” Matt says, looking Brandon up and down. “You’re all twitchy. Why are you so twitchy?”

Brandon shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m getting food.” He stands up and intentionally doesn’t talk to anybody in line as he gets his food, and settles for a smile to the cashier.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nick asks. He moves, and hits his arm on the corner of the table. “What the eff is wrong with me today?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Brandon tries, and Nick’s expression shifts for a second, then goes neutral. Brandon hopes he didn’t do something drastic, but he’s beginning to get exhausted with all of this.

Matt starts talking a mile a minute at the table about the new outfit he wants to try out for the upcoming pay per view pre-show. Brandon’s not even paying attention when he grins at Matt. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you want to be Barbie or whatever,” Brandon says, rolling his eyes. And then he realizes. “Oh, no.”

Matt freezes, a painted smile on his face, but his eyes can still move. In a panic, he looks at Hangman.

“Matt?” Hangman asks. “Matt, can you hear me?”

“You don’t want to be a Barbie!” Brandon says, insistently. “You’re just Matt.”

“Just Matt?” Hangman asks. “Is this a reference to that song from the movie? I never got around to seeing it.” He turns back to Matt, resting his hand on his face. “Matt? Come on. Talk to me.”

Matt, to Brandon’s relief, snaps back into himself. “What the fuck was that?!” he shrieks. “I – everything froze for a second in my body. I got all stiff.” Hangman snickers. “Not like that!” He looks at Brandon. “And it happened after you said that Barbie thing.” He narrows his eyes. “You’ve been weird all day, Brandon. What’s going on?”

Brandon looks frantically around, then shoves a handful of French fries into his mouth.

Hangman narrows his eyes. “What the fuck did you do, Brandon?”

“I can’t tell you,” Brandon mutters. He glances over at Nick, who’s been observing the situation quietly. “I promised.”

Nick narrows his eyes. “Dude,” he says, carefully. “Does this, uh. Have you had any weird interactions with the House of Black lately?”

Brandon shoves another handful of French fries into face.

“Stop eating the goddamned fries!” Hangman says. He grabs the plate.

Before he can stop himself, Brandon swallows and yells, “Get your filthy tentacles off of my food!” He slaps Adam’s hand away. Then he pauses. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Hangman asks. And then, in front of their eyes, the fingers on Adam’s hand turn into slimy, purple-grey tentacles.

Hangman looks at Brandon, looking horrified. “What the fuck did you do to me, Brandon?” he asks in a deadly voice.

“I don’t know!” Brandon says. “I – we need to…” He looks around frantically. “I can fix this. I swear.” He scampers off. “I gotta talk to Malakai.”

“And I am a Barbie!” Matt yells after him. “Not literal- I mean in the sense of the song! Brandon! Get back here!”

As he turns the corner, he hears Nick say, “Guys, I think he got magicked.”

Matt’s huff is audible halfway down the hallway. “Of effing course he did!”

Brandon shoves open the door to the House of Black’s locker room. “Fix it right now!” he yells. “Fix it all. Right now!”

Malakai’s head snaps up. His eyes are black pools, liquid and moving. There are no whites. “You interrupt me,” he says, voice dark and menacing. “Who are you?”

“Brandon Cutler, the stooge you made become magic or whatever!” Brandon shrieks. He’s a little hysterical at this point. “I just made my friend’s hands turn into tentacles and I can’t effing take it anymore! Get the magic out of me!”

It’s only then that he realizes Malakai’s eyes are emitting light despite the dark pools. When he turns them on Brandon, he feels struck by lightning. “You do not wish to possess this gift?”

“Gift?!” Brandon yells. “Malakai, man, this was an accident and I hate it. Turn me back to a normal person. The way normal people have no magic!”

“Malakai,” says the thing Brandon has now realizes is inhabiting Malakai’s body. “Yes. I know of that soul. He is being dealt with.” Brandon doesn’t even want to know what that means. “You wish you be free of your gift?”

“Yes,” Brandon says. “No magic, like humans have no magic.”

“Oh, darling mortal,” the monster chuckles, raising his hand. There’s a vortex of static there. It makes Brandon’s mind burn. “All humans have magic.”

Suddenly Brandon’s body feels stripped of it’s power. He blinks and realizes he’s being lowered gently to the ground.

“How did I get up there?” Brandon asks, feeling a relieving lack of galactic power in his body. “When did I get up there?”

“About two hours ago,” Malakai says, casually flipping through a book on the couch. It’s the generally creepy, not-teal version of his coworker. “You should be feeling normal now.”

Brandon nods. “Um. Before – before you took my magic, did you undo what I’d done?”

Malakai frowns. “Undo what?”

Brandon can’t meet his eyes. “I accidentally turned Adam Page’s hand into tentacles.”

Malakai sighs so deeply and for so long that Brandon begins to worry he’s going to run out of oxygen. “Brandon,” Malakai sighs. “Go get him, please.”

Brandon nods and stumbles out of there, running down the hallway. It doesn’t take long at all before he hears Matt rambling. “Oh, good,” Brandon says with an eye roll. “Matt’s here, too.”

Adam and Matt are at top speed yelling at him, and bitching at each other. But mostly, panicking about the tentacle hand. Brandon thinks that’s fair.

It all happens fast enough he doesn’t know how to stop it. Before he can use his body as a shield, Matt pulls the locker room door open. Light blares out, tickling at a memory Brandon knows he’s not supposed to have.

Matt manages to continue being unhelpful by whining, “What the hell?”

Brandon didn’t ever want to feel this magic all over him again. But here he is. “Oh, no.”

Mini playlist (crack playlist for a crack fic): Magic - BoB and Rivers Cuomo Black Magic - Little Mix Magic - One Direction Moonlight Magic -Ashnikko

#Breynolds #Look at the weird thing I wrote!!!#It least to the next story in the series which is going to be the weirdest thing I've ever written!!!!! I'm so excited to get weird!#But intimidated!!!!!#wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes

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