#Projector for Camping

[electronic-devices]

[anotheroceanid]

I personally like to think that demigods have a special spot in their hearts for the Mamma Mia movie

[manic-pixie-aquarius]

Thinking about this again cause I definitely have seen it as a possibility for a while. It just kinda makes sense to me, and I KNOW a lot of ppl would write this off right away cause it's unfair to El and her independence, and whatnot.

But... there's also that quote about how 'viewers might be pissed off or elated' (paraphrasing) by the outcome of season 5... Just saying.

Are we ready to have an honest discussion about Will and El’s dynamic and possible ending yet?

Two characters sharing a similar narrative in this story. How will things end for these two?

It hasn’t occurred to me until recently just how little we discuss these two.

Over the course of the show, the development of Will and El’s co-existence has less to do with their relationship but more to do with Will’s character arc.

In the beginning (seasons 1 and 2), Will is so hidden that El takes over. Will “hides” in the upside down, and is again hidden when he is possessed. El takes the spotlight in his place.

Then in season 3, Will is physically present but in the background. He’s the side character. El is the leader. They barely interact.

In season 4, Will is starting to come out of his shell. He’s still a side character, but he’s closer to being on an even playing field with El. He’s not in the background as often, and is actually seen conversing with El, and he even confronts her on her lies to Mike. Which is also foreshadowing his lies to Mike later on in the season.

I’m going to be quite frank: El and Will are not actually very close in canon. The “wonder twins” idea is beautiful but very fanon. These two had so many opportunities to grow closer, especially since they were separated from the others in California… but they just don’t? They both seem lonely and disconnected in the other’s presence. But yet, they are connected another way: El is Will’s saviour/protector. She is like his security blanket. I mean this literally (textually), and a sub-textually. Obviously she helps him while he’s trapped in the upside down and when he’s possessed- making her a textual, and literal saviour.

But… what do I mean by a sub-textual saviour? Well, she protects him from having to take the spotlight. He is able to hide behind her in many ways.

For one, she takes the brunt of the bullies in Lenora. Will is able to go around unnoticed even as a GNC guy that he is. Back home at Hawkins, he is, unfortunately, very visible to bullies. Visibly different, visibly gay. But in Lenora? Bullies are too distracted by the girl who’s different instead.

Now when it comes to Will’s love life… El also is protecting him in a sense. He desires Mike, romantically, sexually, and intimately. Due to the rampant homophobia that surrounds him, these desires scare him. El is a safe barrier from these desires. Will is also able to safely express himself through her.

If El weren’t in the picture, Will may have been more bold in expressing this side of himself to Mike. He may just let his feelings slip out more. Perhaps he’d let his eyes linger a tad longer, or he’d be tempted to be a bit more tactile with the boy he’s overflowing with affection for.

El shields Will from having to confront many aspects of himself. That’s the problem. Because of her protection, he isn’t able to challenge himself and grow. This is why whenever El saves the day, it never lasts. She merely puts a “bandaid” on the wound. But this wound will grow and fester if the source of the problem is not addressed.

El’s Possible Origin

This is the first time in the entire show that El is mentioned. The context of this sounds like they’re implying that El also “came from” the upsidedown; precisely where Will was at the time.

Now, I’m aware this is a fairly unpopular opinion, but I do believe El was created from Will in a supernatural sense. I suppose in a similar way to how Eve was created from Adam, minus any romantic undertones.

Our very first sighting of El is of her emerging from the forest, barefoot, in a hospital gown, with very little hair on her head, and a limited knowledge of the English language. Not unlike an infant child. Now, please don’t take this the wrong way… I’m not implying that everyone with limited language skills are babies, there are many possible reasons for it. But within this show, it is implied that her lack of language skills are due to her experiences within the lab, and lack of experiences outside of it.

I do have to ask though, why do the other “lab kids” we have seen have no obvious language difficulties? Unless… El actually was an “infant” in a way…

This quote is interesting for multiple reasons. One I’m focusing on here is the mention of life starting that particular day. Of course I’m not referring to Mike’s life starting that day- I’m talking about the person we are shown in this particular shot- El.

Now, I know what everyone is thinking: how does El have memories that predate this day then?

Well, what I’m arguing is that many of her memories could be an altered version of Will’s memories. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that his memories could have been transferred to El.

This “fake” script of the episode Papa tells us that Will recognized Brenner. There’s a history there! Will likely could not quite pinpoint how he recognized him.

It’s important to note that Will only vaguely recalls aspects of his childhood. There’s gaps. Just like there’s gaps in El’s memory as well.

El’s Possible Ending

I’ve always been surprised just how little people dig into El’s possible ending in the show. I feel like people are somewhat aware of this possibility but choose not to give it any further thought. Truth is- El doesn’t feel like she belongs anywhere.

I need to remind everyone of this last shot in ST4. Yes yes the couples, we have heard it a million times already… but look where El is standing. She’s on the other side. She’s in the upsidedown. Where she initially came from. Now, I’m not saying she’ll end up in the current unpleasant upsidedown- she will likely live on in a peaceful version of it. An entirely new environment one that exists…

[In Will’s mind.]

I do think this is an important foreshadowing quote- but not in the way most people think. They won’t work together as twins- they will work together as one person. What I’m saying is…

They will combine. Just like what this hug visually foreshadows… El and Will will become one again.

I can honestly make a whole separate post regarding references made in ST to other media involving two characters being one. There’s a lot…

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Meant To Be (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you adjust to the modern world.

Disclaimer: This is part three to Meant To Be (2). Fluff, flashbacks/descriptions of life in the 40s with Bucky and the others, platonic!Sam, mention of character deaths, reader is on a little bit of an emotional roller-coaster when trying to adjust but Bucky helps, dancing in the kitchen to music, all the feels. Not Proof Read.

“Thought I might find you here.”

You turned your head to see Sam approaching you as you sat, alone, in the Smithsonian.

“Hey.”

Sam smiled. “Hey. Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead.”

As Sam sat beside you, he looked up to the projector screen. Clips of your old life had been playing for the last two hours or more. It has taken all of an hour on the phone with Tony for the Smithsonian to consider sending the film reels over, and all of five minutes talking to Pepper for them to agree. 

You’d seen a lot of the popular clips MJ had told you about; Steve and Bucky laughing, Peggy’s picture in Steve’s compass, the marching soldiers. You’d even seen some clips of you and Bucky. Moments you didn’t realise that had been recorded. 

It made your heart ache. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s everything to talk about. Food. Music. The fact Bucky still prefers 40s music over Marvin Gaye.”

You chuckled and Sam smiled, relieved to see at least a hint of a smile on your face. 

You’d been in the future for almost three months. And, while he’d seen you smile around the boys and a few others. He still saw that longing look in your eyes. He still saw the hitch in your breathing every time you looked up and someone walked inside. 

The others saw it, too. Especially Bucky. But parts of them were too afraid to ask. They’d lived in the future a lot longer than you. For Steve, he’d been asleep for most of it. And for Bucky, he’d been tortured. Made into someone else for seventy years. 

You? In the blink of an eye, you’d gone from living in 1944 to suddenly appearing in the home of, who would have probably been, your godson.

“Come on. Talk to me. I promise, I’m a really good secret keeper.”

You smiled and shook your head, letting some old clips run through. “I…” The tears came to your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m meant to do here. I-I know I don’t go back. And I know I’m probably here for the rest of my life but…I don’t know what I’m meant to do.”

Sam just sat and listened to you. 

“One day I’m writing things down; military secrets, my own secrets, notes to share with the boys. One day I’m yelling at Howard to get up, threatening to throw a cold bucket of water over his head.” You laughed, but all it did was try to mask the pain. “The next…the next I’m being told one of my best friends didn’t get to live his life out with the love of his life, another went through seventy years of torture and the rest are dead.”

You took a breath and looked at the clip playing on the screen. Peggy and you directing where things would be taking place on the map table. Bucky was standing behind you before he carried a larger map over and Steve circled different spots where he knew camps had been set up. 

For you, that clip took place six months ago. 

“And now I’m watching clips of my life that to me…only just happened. And…I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“You’re grieving.” Sam told you. “You’re having to say goodbye to a lot of people very quickly. Which is insane. But it’s gonna be a process. Even if you think you’re ready to mentally accept it, sometimes your body isn’t. You need to give it time.”

You scoffed a little. “That seems to be all I have. Time. Time to think. Time to remember. Time to catch up on Time. Sam, if none of this happened, I’d probably be dead by now, if not, on my way out.”

“But you’re not. Instead, you’re here. You’re alive, and so is Steve and Bucky. Believe me, I get it. You’ve come from a war and, just because you’ve come home doesn’t mean that it’s stopped. But all you need to do right now is rest.”

You talked to Sam for an hour or more before eventually the conversation died away and you were both left to sit and watch the different film reels. But as the dates got slightly sporadic, the clips became more…intimate. 

One started playing out from when you’d all been stationed in London. You’d all ended up at a dance hall somewhere outside the city. It was only a small space but people seemed to create enough room for couples to dance. 

Peggy was in the corner, introducing Steve to some of her old friends. You were standing by one of the posts, watching everyone on the floor sway to the music and Bucky, like usual, had a crowd of girls around him. 

You turned your attention away from the clip of Bucky in hopes to kill the pang of jealousy inside your chest. 

“They really loved each other, didn’t they?”

You knew who Sam was talking about. And you nodded with a ghost of a smile. “They really did.”

But that was when Sam’s attention was torn from the happy couple towards Bucky who, although had been smiling and laughing with three girls who’d crowded around him, his attention was caught somewhere else. 

Rather, on someone else. 

You. 

Looking over his shoulder at you, Sam watched your reaction before looking back to Bucky as he apologised to the girls and disappeared. He was heading straight for you. Taking your drink from you, he shocked you as he placed it on the table beside you before he took your hand in his and brought you to the floor. 

Sam could faintly hear the music playing from the band. “We’ll meet again. Don’t know where. Don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day…”

Never in his life had Sam seen Bucky dance. Not with anyone. But that wasn’t what shocked him. What shocked him was the look on Bucky’s face. A smile. A genuine smile. The kind a man only ever saved for the love of his life.

Unlike some of the other couples on the floor, Bucky held you close to him. His arm practically wrapped around you completely in comparison to some of the other dancers. This was not a man who was prepared to let you go. 

With your hand in his, his fingers caressed the back of your hand and his feet led you both around in a small circle. 

“When was this?” Sam asked quietly in order to not scare you. You were engrossed with the clip. Clearly, you were reliving the scene as you watched it play out. 

You swallowed thickly. “1942…I think. We…we were stationed in London. He always saved me a dance. I’ve always had two left feet so I didn’t dance much but…”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ve got two left feet, there.”

You smiled, fondly. “He’s a good dance partner.”

Sam chuckled under his breath before watching the rest of the clip with you. 

Sam had never asked Bucky complete questions about you before you appeared. Bucky wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, so he’d just wait for him to open up. But after you returned and he saw the way Bucky tried to never leave your side, he asked him the one question he’d been dying to ask since Bucky had first said your name. 

“How long have you been in love with her?”

All Bucky could say was, “Too long.”. 

And watching this clip, Sam realised what Bucky had meant. You’d been tattooed on his heart since he first met you. Even when he was the Winter Soldier, he still got flashbacks of you. Even when he left Wakanda, part of him still wanted you to be alive somewhere. 

Whenever he went on a date, your name on his heart only burned deeper into his muscles. He’d been consumed by you since he probably first met you. And he didn’t want it any other way. 

The clip ran out before a new one started up. 

Home videos. 

These were even more precious, because there weren't very many.

The first one to play was from the day you’d all been on the beach. Howard’s home led out to it. 

“Dugan! Put that camera down and come and join us!” You heard Peggy yell. 

You smiled, thankful to hear their voices again. 

From the beach day, however, one clip stood out to you the most. 

You were lying on one of the sunbeds under the shade, reading. And from behind you, Bucky had snuck up on you before plucking the book from your hands. Turning around, he read a few sentences out loud as he walked away. 

“James! Hey, give that back!” You laughed as you stood up and followed after him. 

“Who brings a book to the beach, doll? You’ll only be taking half of this place back with you.”

“Then I’ll collect it in a jar as a keepsake. Would you-just-” You gave a huff as Bucky held your book well out of reach. 

“Join us. Just one game. Please?” He begged, his eyes softening. 

“Yeah! Come on, sweet cheeks! You’re missing out!”

You turned around to look at Howard who hit the volleyball back to Peggy. Then you turned back to Bucky, his eyes somehow even softer. 

You groaned. “Fine. But then you’ll give me my book back?”

Bucky stood to attention before placing a cross over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart, doll…”

You eyed him up, humming. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You could remember that day. You ended up playing three rounds before the entire thing became a football game nobody kept score of. Peggy beat most of the boys, Steve stared at her in adoration. 

But for the first time, you noticed Bucky looking at you. 

You remembered turning around that day, thinking he’d been looking at Steve and Peggy. But…

From the clip, it was clear as day he was looking at you. 

And it took your breath away. 

You only spotted it more and more as the clips played through. 

You and Bucky lay together, heads touching as you held your book above you both, reading out loud. Some of the Commandos had fallen asleep on the sofas, listening to your voice read. But Bucky hadn’t. His eyes were fully on you. 

The clips from when a photographer had been hired to take a group shot of the entire team. The video was taken from behind the photographer. 

You pointed out who everyone was to Sam and what they were doing. Then you both noticed Bucky looking at you before you turned your head to look at him. 

Then something started to dawn on you. 

Most of the time whenever you’d look at Bucky…

“He was already looking at you,” Sam said, out loud. 

“Yeah…”

Sam had sat on the bench in front of you, stretching himself out as he propped himself up on his elbow. He looked up at you where you’d barely moved from your seat since he arrived. 

And from the look on your face, Sam wondered if his bet with Steve wouldn’t run as long as he thought. 

It was a few days later, when you were sitting in the living room, flipping through some fictional novels MJ had dropped off for you, that you saw Bucky again. 

“Hey.”

You looked up. “Hey.”

As he stood by the door, looking a little awkward, he held a brown box in his arms. “I just…I thought you might…”

He walked inside before placing the box down carefully on the coffee table in front of you. 

“What is it? I swear to god, Bucky, if this is some kind of makeshift animal habitat I’m gonna-”

Bucky shook his head, trying to hide his smile. There was only one reason why you thought that’s what it was and that was because you’d both been rooting through Howard’s basement one sunny afternoon before meeting the others at the beach. 

That was where you’d found out Howard was thinking about starting an animal sanctuary for all kinds of animals. 

“No. No, it’s nothing like that.” Bucky said, slight amusement in his voice. “It’s…after you disappeared, Colonel Phillips…” Bucky had never had to say the words out loud before. 

When he’d come home with a box of your things, Steve didn’t need to be told what it meant. The military saw you as dead and needed to replace you as quickly as they could. 

“He had me clean out your desk and I couldn’t think about throwing any of it away.”

“Oh.”

Bucky carefully sat beside you as you reached over and pulled the lid from the box. It smelled like the 40s. 

“I didn’t even know it still existed until I moved in here. They must have kept everything from Steve’s apartment after he went into the ice. I didn’t ask him where it went or how he got it back. I was just glad to know your things still existed.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out a few old notepads, aged with colour. To you, they’d been brand new, straight out of their packaging a few months ago. 

Then you found the pictures. With a sad smile, you wiped the dust away from the frame. A picture of yourself, Peggy, Steve, Howard and Bucky. It had been a rare night out in Brooklyn. 

Another picture of Steve and the Howling Commandos with Peggy beside him. One of yourself, Howard and Mr Jarvis. It was grainy, but you could still see the reflection of Jarvis’ wife in the gleaming windows behind you. She’d been adamant to not be in the picture since she wanted a copy of all three of you, too. 

Scrap pieces of paper were bundled together. Notes to give Peggy her pen back, find Steve a pack of fresh pencils since he’d picked up a habit of breaking them. He still wasn’t used to his strength. A note to attend the meeting with Peggy and the Colonel on Thursday, a note to run your recruit papers down to City Hall since you’d agreed to take three trainees under your wing, and one final note…

Museum with James, this Saturday.

The ink had worn with time, but the sentiment had only grown. 

He’d asked you to the new museum exhibit. He’d asked you that day. That morning. 

“There’s also this.”

You turned and looked at Bucky before looking down at his hands. Your notebook. The one you kept locked in your desk drawer. It took your breath away as you took it in your hands. 

All the conversations you’d had with him, all the dates you’d been on together. But after the day of your disappearance, the handwriting changed. 

It was no longer yours, but Bucky’s. You’d seen enough of his half finished paperwork that he’d try to sneak into your pile to know his handwriting almost immediately. 

It wasn’t listed by dates, but with a line drawn under each section, you knew they were day by day. 

“I kept it with me.” Bucky told you. “Everything I wanted to talk to you about.”

You fought your hardest to keep your tears at bay. “These dashes? What do they mean?”

“They’re when I’ve talked to you.”

You were confused. 

“The Colonel…he made sure you had a grave. Said it would help people move on if they wanted to. They’d have a place to still talk to you. It’s still there.”

You turned and looked back at the list. You’d seen your grave, once. You’d stand behind the cobble wall, looking at it under one of the blossom trees. You couldn’t bear to walk any closer. 

“I knew I wanted to talk to you. Sometimes it was to the stars, but mostly it was to…to your grave.”

You quickly wiped away a tear. Something panged tight in your chest. 

An image of Bucky kneeling at your grave, dusting the fallen blossom petals from the top of the marble stone. An image of Bucky kneeling at your grave, talking to you about; Meeting Sam, Working with Sam, his New Therapist, the WS Programme, Steve and Peggy, Steve and Natasha, his nightmare about the 40s…

The images killed you. 

“Doll?”

Bucky laid a hand on your knee, his fingers reaching up to push some hair from your eyes. Without taking another second to think, you turned and hugged Bucky. Tight. 

“I’m so sorry.” You could hear your voice shaking. 

“Sorry? What for?”

You leaned back after a few seconds and wiped your eyes and shook your head. “Everything? I…I can’t believe I missed so much.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise for that.”

“Feels like I do.”

“No,” Bucky told you. “Never. First, you have nothing to apologise for. And second,” Bucky brushed the hair clear from your face so he could see you properly. “Second,” he repeated, his voice a little softer than before. “You never have to apologise to me. You didn’t then. You don’t now.”

You managed to smile, and once Bucky recognised it to be genuine, he smiled, too. 

“You eaten yet?”

You shook your head. “Book’s too riveting.” 

You both looked at the red bound book on the coffee table. Agatha Christie. A publication from the seventies. 

Bucky smiled. “Why am I not surprised? I’ll make us something.”

Bucky stood, surprising you a little when he placed a light kiss to the top of your head as he did so before walking towards the kitchen. “Do I wanna know how you found it?”

You smiled, following him with your book in hand. “MJ brought them over. Peter must have told her I was bored and she said her aunt had most of these books just laying in her attic taking up space. Told me I could have them.”

“How far are you?” Bucky was moving around the kitchen as you sat down at the kitchen island, watching him. 

“Couple of chapters. Why?”

Bucky paused for a second and smiled. “Read it to me.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, already opening the book up. 

He nodded. “I’m sure. I’ve missed hearing you read.”

You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at hearing him say that. So, unable to hide your smile, you read outloud. And every time you tried to sneak a glance at him, you found him already looking at you.

It was a few more weeks before you actually asked him about it. About the way he’s always looked at you. And it had been after you’d watched Annie. 

He’d been looking at you throughout the movie, and a few times you’d caught him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. But when you were both in the kitchen, cooking a meal together with the radio playing lightly in the background, you finally mentioned it. 

“You’re gonna cut your fingers if you don’t pay attention.”

“I am paying attention,” Bucky said as he continued to chop. 

“You’re staring again.”

Bucky smiled. “Can’t help it.”

You just looked at him and rolled your eyes lightly before turning around and dumping the chopped carrots into the pot. 

“Fine. But don’t come running to me when you start bleeding.”

Bucky just held up his hand. “Can’t bleed.”

You looked up. He had you there. 

“Do you wanna peel the sprouts?” You asked for the bowl on the kitchen island. 

Dumping what he’d already chopped into the pot with yours, he came to stand beside you before picking each sprout out, peeling away a few of their layers. 

But as time slowly passed by, Bucky’s presence becoming a true comfort to you, he stopped what he was doing before he silently took your hand in his. 

“Bucky.”

“Dance with me. We don’t get to do this anymore.”

You sighed, but still agreed. And it wasn’t long before your brain took you back to that dance hall in London. The scent of Bucky’s aftershave consuming your senses in such a way you’d know you’d be able to still faintly smell him when he’d long left the room. His touch burned into your skin through your clothes, and the rhythm of your heart joined his. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Always, doll.”

You smiled and leaned back a little in order to see his face. “It’s about your staring. You’re always looking at me. Why?”

“Straight to the point. I like it.”

You suppressed your laugh and hit it in the chest. “I’m being serious. Why? I didn't think I noticed it until I watched our home videos.”

“You’ve watched the home videos?”

You nodded. “Yeah. There were only a few clips that I could get fed through the film reel. But…you’re always looking at me.”

His smile softened. “That’s because you’re beautiful.”

You laughed. “Bucky, I’m being serious.”

He looked a little hurt. “So am I.”

You knew it had hit you, what he truly meant. You just hadn’t been expecting it to hit you so hard. 

“Buck…”

“I’m always looking because I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, doll.” Bucky told you, truthfully. 

The song crackled and changed over the radio but neither of you stopped dancing together. Your hand was still firmly in his, your body was still flushed against him. 

“I know you haven’t seen the last seventy years…but I have. No woman compares to you, Y/n. Not a single one…”

Bucky’s voice trailed away as he laid himself bare for you. Your heart was thumping in your ears, your lips parted and took in what air you could, which wasn’t much. And just as the walls around both of you started to fade away and the music became nothing more than soundwaves, you felt yourself lean closer to him. 

“Doll…”

“James…”

It seemed to take forever for his lips to meet with yours, but once they did, there wasn’t a chance in all of the universe that you’d let yourself forget the feeling of his kiss. 

His hand that wrapped around your lower back and held you in by your hips, tightened. With his other hand guiding your arm around his shoulders, he was quick to hold you closer to him; if that was even possible. 

As your hands came to hold his face, his lips moving to kiss you even more, he lifted you from the floor a little. 

By the time you both broke away for air, your eyes remained closed as his head rested against yours. 

“Please tell me this isn’t just a one time thing,” Bucky asked you. 

You shook your head, a little out of breath. “No. This…this isn’t just a one time thing.”

“Good.” He told you before finally opening his eyes to look at you. “I’ve waited more than seventy years to kiss you.”

Your hands linked around his neck as he stood there with you in his arms. “Was it worth the wait?”

A slight chuckle left Bucky. “Oh, most definitely, doll.”

He didn’t wait another second before capturing your lips in another kiss. He would have waited a thousand lifetimes for you, but he didn’t have to. You were alive, you were breathing, and you were kissing him back. 

It wouldn’t be long before he’d tell you how deep his feelings ran for you. But you’d surprise him that day by beating him to it. Even if the last seventy years had been nothing but a blink of the eye for you, it had been almost a hundred for Bucky. 

You loved him too much to make him wait any longer. 

[pome-seed]

i just read shotgun and holy fuck— can you imagine sharing a joint with bucky? like you both get so touchy and maybe it’s a little less than innocent but just. hugs and kisses while high is such an oxytocin boost idk man

Getting high and crossing a line with your best friend, Bucky Barnes.

You release a heavy sigh, watching your breath puff and steam above you, dissipating into nothing. You go a little cross eyed, watching the cold air fog up above you. A lazy smile finds its way across your lips, something warm and relaxed settling in your bones.

You spread out, the grass beneath your blanket offering a delicious cushion for your tired bones. Your fingers grow cold from where your arm's propped up, a burning roll of paper slotted between your fingers.

Somewhere far off, you can hear your friends laughing, gathered around a projector, watching a movie in nature. You wandered off at some point- you don't know how long ago, now. All you know is you feel good.

Light, easy, free.

"Hiding from the cavalry?" A familiar voice calls from above you. You don't care enough to look, you know who it is.

"Wanted to look at the stars," you mutter, taking another slow drag from your joint.

Bucky chuckles quietly, a soft sound reserved only for you. The blanket ruffles as he lays down beside you, his shoulder bumping with yours. "Counting constellations?"

You shake your head, your hair tangling beneath your head. "Don't know any," You hum, holding the rolled up paper for him to take.

He plucks it from your finger and slots it between his lips. "Me neither," he hums, rolling the smoke in his mouth.

A comfortable silence falls over you, sizzling together with the delicious weight in your veins. Would you call it that? A weight? Or is it the opposite? You don't know, it just feels good. It feels right.

Bucky releases a slow breath, smoke gathering above you. You giggle quietly, your head rolling to the side to look at him. But when you look, you see he's already watching you, his eyes red and heavy.

The bloodshot color makes his eyes look bluer. A tired smile curls at your lips.

Bucky doesn't say anything at first, just stares at you, his gaze flicking between your eyes. You can tell he's far from sober- he probably lit up a joint back at the camp to share with the group.

He looks sleepy when he's high, like all the weight on his shoulders lifts away, and suddenly he's free to breathe. You like that look on him. Happy. Easy.

"You've got that goofy smile on," he mutters, puffing from the joint.

"Mm," you hum, shivering as a cold gust of air sweeps through the trees. You press a little closer to his side. "Can't help it, you look funny up this close."

He rolls his eyes and blows smoke into your face, making you giggle. You roll your head back to look at the sky, waving the cloud away. "Jerk," you mutter, biting your lip to suppress your smile.

You nudge your wrist into his hip, wiggling your fingers. His large hand slides over yours, callouses making you shiver. He pushes the roll between your fingers, then pulls back. You feel the absence of his warm hand immediately, the chill making your fingers cold.

"What'cha thinkin' about?" His voice is quiet beside you, intimate and rough- from years of cigarettes and too much smoke. You feel him watching you, his gaze boring into the side of your face.

"Nothin'," you whisper, attempting to make O's with your exhaled smoke. You've never figured it out- but Bucky's long since mastered the art. He loves puffing them out, watching a grin spread across your cheeks as you watch. "You're jus' warm."

"Mm, you cold?" He slides his palm back over yours, stealing the joint while blanketing your hand with his.

"A little," You absently count the brightest stars, every blink a heavy flutter of lashes. "But I like it."

"Freak," he mutters, but still doesn't move his hand. You notice.

"Jerk," you repeat, tickling your fingertips against his palm.

"Should I leave you to thrive in the cold?" You feel his warm breath tickle your cheek.

You roll your head back to look at him, your faces inches apart. "Nah, I like layin' with you," you hum. You can't tell if the pink staining his cheeks is from the cold, or from your blatant appreciation of him. "Plus, it's boring over here alone."

"You wanted to wander off," he mutters, his thumb tracing your knuckles.

"Yeah, but I knew you'd follow," A cheeky grin spreads across your cheeks. "You always keep me company."

"You make me sound predictable," he huffs, then turns to take another drag from the joint. Moonlight casts a soft glow over his skin, and with that extra bit of light, you decide its blush making him so pink. He's so easy to fluster when he's high.

He just gets so soft.

"Just a bit," You chuckle, staring at him. "Y'just gotta start actin' outside the box."

"Mm," he nods. "That right?" You hum in agreement. He glances at you, then rolls on his side, facing you fully. "'M not good at that kinda thing. You gotta help me."

You click your tongue in thought, "do something I wouldn't expect."

"You wouldn't expect most things, you've got shitty instincts, sweetheart." He smirks, his thumb tapping your chin. You frown at him, making him snicker. He carefully pushes the roll of paper between your lips, holding it there.

You puff on it, holding eye contact as the smoke rolls over your tongue. Bucky's gaze flickers to your lips, and he doesn't immediately look away.

The extra boost of confidence from the weed spurs you on- stops you from back tracking and rolling away.

"That's not fair," you whisper, blowing the smoke away from his face. He glances at it, and for a moment, you wish you would have blown it in his face.

"Oh yeah?" He sucks on the the end, where your lips just were, then drops his hand on your stomach with the joint between his knuckles. He leans down over you, into your space, close enough to make you go cross eyed. You wait, staring at his lips.

He says nothing for a handful of seconds, confusing you. Your brows twitch together. You open your mouth to question him- when he finally exhales a cloud of smoke, blowing it softly over your tongue.

You make a quiet noise, but keep your mouth open. Your stomach churns with flutters, something about the action setting your skin on fire.

When he finishes, he pulls back an inch or two, a lazy smile on his lips. "Shitty instincts," he mutters.

In a daze, you watch his smoke drift out of your mouth, then dissipate to nothing. Your lashes flutter when you feel his fingers twitch over your lower stomach.

"You caught me off guard," you mutter, swallowing hard. You reach up, tucking a wavy lock of brown hair behind his ear. "So 's not fair." His gaze drops to your lips again. "I can catch you off guard, 'nd it would be the same."

He quirks a brow, propping himself up over you. You pulse spikes when he accidentally adds pressure over your stomach with his hand. "Mm, and how's that?" The intimate timbre of his voice floats between you, like it isn't meant for anyone else.

"I can think of a few ways..." you whisper, plucking the joint from between his knuckles. He watches you puff on it again, his lips twitching in a smirk.

"Gonna show me?" He asks, the hand by your head twirling tangled locks of your hair around his knuckles.

"Maybe," You whisper, pinching his chin. His mouth falls open.

You let the smoke drift from your mouth to his, the taste sticking to your tongue. Bucky leans closer to catch it, his lips nearly grazing yours. Something hot and sticky spreads in your veins as he inhales your smoke.

The joint is burning quickly, barely an inch long by now. But your hazy mind is so focused on Bucky, you don't realize it.

"Like that," you whisper, his bottom lip grazing yours as you speak. "Or..." You pause, letting him hover over you, his warmth blanketing your body.

In the distance, you can still hear your friends laughing and chatting. Their movie is quiet, but you can still hear the static from Steve's shitty speaker.

You barely register it though.

"Or..." Bucky continues for you, nudging his nose against yours. Your hand hovers by his jaw, your chilled fingers tracing his pink ear. His lashes flutter from the ticklish feeling. He chuckles quietly, the sound barely leaving his throat before he's leaning down.

His lips drag over yours in a lazy kiss, his lips warm against yours. You sigh, your mouth falling open.

His tongue slips inside, lazily stroking over yours.

Your eyes roll shut, something fuzzy buzzing in your veins. You should be freaking out, should be shocked. But something about this night, this feeling, it leaves no room for panic. For question.

So you just let your body sink further into the grass. You let yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue pressed against yours, of his hand dragging over your stomach. You let yourself feel it.

Your lips smack together softly, tired and quiet. Like you've done it a thousand times before. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, teasing and intimate.

You giggle, your nose pressing to his cheekbone. He huffs, the corners of his eyes creasing in a smile.

"'S this count as catchin' you off guard?" You ask between slow kisses, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

"Mm-mm," he hums, sucking on your tongue. "I moved first," he whispers, licking your bottom lip, "So 's my win."

"Didn't know it was a competition," you whisper, tilting your chin up to chase another kiss.

He sighs into your mouth, his forehead dropping to yours for a sleepy second. "Is now." You laugh, dragging your lips over his. His hand leaves your stomach, then finds your hand. The joint is slowly burning out, turning to ash between your fingers.

Bucky reaches between you and licks his fingers, then snubs out the burning tip, letting it fall to ash in the damp grass.

"I wanna do that..." you mutter, going cross eyed to look up at him.

He makes a confused noise as he lays back beside you, settling on the blanket. You grab his wrist, holding it over your head. He lets you, watches as you spread out his fingers, playing with them for a moment.

You glance back at him as you pull his hand down, dragging your tongue over the tips of his fingers. You taste ash and smoke, stained into his skin.

His expression melts, sizzling into something warm and dazed. Curious. Excited.

You hum, rolling your lips together. "Doesn't taste very good," you mutter, nudging your head closer to his. You stick your tongue out for him. "Ashes- 's bad..."

He snickers, dropping his hand to rest on your rib cage. He leans in and pecks the point of your soft tongue. "Told you, shitty instincts..."

A/N: I listened to Lovers by Anna of the North while writing this whole thing. This was very fun to write! Based off my own experiences being high. Sleepy and a little stupid. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

Let me know if you want to be on my Bucky Barnes Taglist!

Taglist:

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt @lonelyghosts-stuff @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @devilslittlehelper @miss-chuchu @dollface-xoxo @natalia42069 @thuul-box @local-crazy @justachillgirllui @pleasecallmeunhinged @cookies-and-music @fallen-w1ngs @unicornqueen05 @bloodmocha @sleepysongbirdsings @fadingcollectivenightmare @hosshihusshi @sharkylalala @overwintering-soldier @splooshdooshploosh @saucysasha2035 @vicmc624 @ordelixx @fadingcollectivenightmare @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @the-once-and-future-bitch @cherryandsugar @thefandomplace @nicolesholes

[pillowfriendly]

my understanding of magus as a character is a vague outline messily collaged together out of scraps of information like this. and i think thats maybe the right way to experience him

📻 MITR'A SONG NOW 🫴

and a bonus one that you think is cool for another oc. That's right. I'm greedy. I want two

SUCH AVARICE. alrighty then

mitr'a:

yaelokre - harpy hare

a recent once i've been imagining as a mütterlied he heard his grandmother sing as a child, that might have gained some extra meanings, nowadays

perhaps he's sung it to his children, too. not that they'd know what it says. he can sing without the echo, if he wants to

-

magus:

blind guardian - the soulforged

one of the songs i used to imagine him, way back when i was still in school. at the time i didn't know what the song was originally about, but the immortality theme is, evidently, very fitting. also the kind of over the top grandtastic thing he'd himself sing to impress while dropping lightning on everything. at least 80% bullshit with some true details, and designed to send you plucky heroes in the wrong direction

[electronic-devices]

Is This The Best Portable Projector for Outdoor Movies in 2024?

[reallyromealone]

Title: Tokyo host club

Chapter: 5

Fandom: Ouran high school Host club x Tokyo revengers

Genre: fluff

Warning: omegaverse, Omega male reader, alpha host club, Sano reader, slight sexism, reader has tude

🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛

(name) was excited when he saw where Mitsukuni was taking him on their first date, getting approved by (name)s eldest brother to be with him unnatended, something that the blond wasn't going to take for granted.

(Name) Only went to the Tokyo science museum a few times in his life, between school and making sure his siblings didn't die, he didn't have a lot of free time-- and his side hustles didn't help with time management either. "I got us the VIP tickets! We get to see all the cool stuff and the space show!" Mitsukuni said excitedly and (name) tried to not seem overly excited but the Sano couldn't help but smile softly, eyes glittering a bit.

(Name) Excitedly explained everything, how things worked and the passion in his voice... Mitsukuni couldn't look away.

And the way he looked back at the Alpha... The pure unfiltered love for science and math.

That's when mitsukuni fell in love.

He fell so in love.

It wasn't until later into the night when they walked to the theatre, a large dome with a hologram projector in the middle. (Name) And Mitsukuni got the best seats and the two listened closely and being a risk taker, mitsukuni took (name)s hand; he was so happy when (name) laced their fingers. The host explained planetary alignment, every star and the paths they take.

After the show, (name) Was confused when two employees handed them gift bags and a thank you to mitsukuni for his donations to the children's learning centre, a free program for children to learn science and free summer camps. "You did that?" (Name) Asked when they got into the limo, a soft smile on his face and Mitsukuni shook his head "nope! I put it in your name so you did it!"

"I- I don't know what to say"

"Don't say anything, just enjoy!" Mitsukuni beamed and (name) looked at him softly.

(Name) Treated Mitsukuni to dinner after, nothing fancy but the diner had a great selection of sweets and (food flavor), mitsukuni not caring if he got whipped cream on his expensive shirt and chatted with (name) about the science centre, (name) listening and occasionally chiming in.

"Did you like the tool set?" Mitsukuni suddenly asked and (name) nodded "its-- it's great, thank you... My clubmates were impressed at your selection" (name) said with a bit of a grin "I'm going to be using them on my bike when I get home"

"What about your homework?"

"I finished that waiting for you"

"I forgot you're super smart" mitsukuni mumbled sweetly and (name) snorted "you really don't see how smart you are, do you?" The blond asked and (name) shrugged "I know-- I know I'm smart I just don't like making it my personality" he explained before continuing "If an alpha shows off their talent and is prideful in it they are seen as ahead of the game and brilliant but if an Omega does, they're seen as rude and obnoxious"

Mitsukuni didn't think about that, staring at (name) with a look that the Omega couldn't quite recognize but the Alpha decided at that moment he was going to see that (name) could be who he was without fear of judgement.

The two chatted away about school and life things "my grandpa wants to meet you, don't worry you don't have to fight another person he only fights Mikey now to keep him from doing dumb stuff" he said taking a bite of his food and Mitsukuni giggled a bit at the image "he's the only one who I know can beat Mikey"

Mitsukuni was curious about he mysterious grandpa, wanting to make a good impression to the elderly man who raised all five of the Sanos. When the moon grew higher, Mitsukuni brought (name) home and refused to let the Omega carry the things the Alpha got him at the science centre claiming that he shouldn't have to worry about these things with him around, the Omega opening the front door and letting the other put it inside before the two stood outside and (name) fidgeted a bit "tonight was fun... Uh, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, (name)" the blond smiled softly with warmth in his eyes before leaning and kissing (name) gently, (name) looked stunned but his scent gave him away at how happy he was. "Sleep well, (nickname)" the host club member then turned and left, (name) walking into his house and grabbing his stuff before rushing to his bedroom, ears burning.

(Name) Couldn't repress his giggles and joy, immediately pulling out the yarn and crochet hook and determined to make the alphas stuffed rabbit a perfect sweater.

-

It took a week of nonstop crocheting at any available moment he could spare and countless mistakes but... He made a cute little sweater for the toy.

And honestly? He was pretty proud of it, working on it all week made it smell like him and it was a soft yarn that was clearly real and not acrylic like he had seen at hobby stores when he went with Emma. He was a little nervous to give it to the alpha, he knew he would like it... He would like it right?

Oh god what if he didn't like it?!

He was rich, he could probably buy a billion of sweaters just like this!

(Name) Shoved the little sweater in his bag before going to class, trying to not think of the idea of giving this to the alpha.

When he got in, he quietly got his things together and not paying attention to the looks he was getting until a shadow loomed over his desk and he saw the twins leaning over him "sooo~" kaoru grinned deviously and Hikaru leaned on his brother " how'd the date go?" The elder twin asked with a slight sense of entitlement, (name) could tell he wasn't going to like the elder twin already.

"Pardon?" (Name) Asked bored, they didn't know each other remotely enough to be asking these questions, the Omega already uncomfortable with how close the alphas were getting "your date with hunni-senpai!" Kaoru said as if it were obvious and that got everyone's attention see there was the rumor of (name) fighting alphas and that hunni saved him but nothing about a date.

A host club member on a date?

With a commoner?

Who was the least Omega like person out of any Omega in the school?!

Before the class could blow up the teacher walked in, silencing everyone into their seats and (name) felt relief flood through him and shot a glare towards the twins while Haruhi looked mortified at the situation. (Name) Focused on his work, working diligently and efficiency and finishing before everyone per usual much to the teachers annoyance, despite this school being a place where he was supposed to be tested and have harder work, (name) breezed through it.

-

After class, (name) rushed through to his quiet corner during lunch but yelped when two arms wrapped around his own and almost flipped them when he saw the twins and knew they wouldn't hurt him but god they were annoying 'dont hurt your mates friends even if they are annoying' he thought and let himself be dragged to the host club.

The smell of roses was always overwhelming, it tickled his nose in a way he didn't like and wasn't used to, he was used to the smell of motor oil and snacks. "(Nickname)?" Mitsukuni asked curiously, eyeing the way the twins held onto him with a look (name) couldn't describe but the twins seemed to understand the look and stepped back from (name) and the flowery look returned on the alphas face.

"Why am I here?" (Name) Asked while fixing his clothes, a bit uncomfortable around so many alphas that he didn't really know but Mitsukuni was there so he was a little at ease. "We wanted to get to know you! Know who Hunni-senpai's little mate was!" Tamaki said dramatically and (name) shot him a look of vague annoyance "you could have just asked instead of dragging me across the school which was incredibly rude by the way, taking someone without their consent" his words cut into the president and twins egos a bit, Mitsukuni noting mentally how similar he looked to his brothers when he was upset.

Tamaki stammered a bit, not expecting this answer but (name) sighed a bit knowing he should have expected the fact his mates friends wanted to know him had to accept that he was going to be around them. "I forgive you for this, this time but don't make it a habit" he said flatly and sat beside his alpha, he wouldn't openly state that he considered mitsukuni his alpha as it was a very intimate thing to say but the Alpha knew he felt that way and the feelings were mutual.

"(Name)?" Haruhi walked into the club room "do you understand question 17 for the homework? I think it's a mistype" she asked and (name) immediately opened his bag to grab his homework and as he was slipping out his binder the little sweater fell out and onto the floor. (Name)S eyes widened and he quickly grabbed it and put it in his bag "what's that?" Mitsukuni asked the Omega who froze "it's nothing" his words too fast and the Alpha tilted his head and didn't press further, knowing the Omega will tell him when he was ready but didn't like being lied too.

"We heard you went to the craft club, you planning on going to a more omegan club?" Tamaki asked curiously and (name) shot him a glare "I have no intentions of leaving my club thank you"

Kyoya watched the Omega closely, the Sano wasn't like omegas they were used to and honestly it was nice seeing Tamaki be put in his place, the Alpha had a tendancy to be accidentally sexist especially towards omegas and the host club didn't help that as they often played into instincts to keep guest attention.

"Oh, how's Mikey by the way? Is he feeling better?" Kaoru asked and (name) was thankful for the topic change "he's fine, he does want a rematch though but Shin said he can have one when he cleans his room" he said with a small smile "oh! Kyoya, Emma found that chocolate you were looking for while she was out, it's by the crossing just off the music shop and the 109 building" pulling the bag of chocolate from his bags side pocket he offered it to the alpha.

Tamaki was a little jealous that (name) got along with everyone so easily outside of him and Hikaru, even making small talk with Mori on occasion.

But what he had learned was (name) was deeply family oriented and passionate about who he was and where he came from and according to kyoya, insanely smart.

"I heard your teacher might be moving you up to third year classes, that must be daunting" Tamaki chimed and (name) shrugged "I mean, finally honestly--- classes are boring and I mean, I should be in second year but medical stuff ya know?" (Name) Said casually and the host club didn't know but didn't want to make the Omega feel awkward.

"Oh! By the way we're planning a beach day! Would you care to join us?" Tamaki asked the Omega who shrugged "I guess? I would have to ask Shinichiro...."

"No problem!

[cryptid-stimming]

Watching Night of the Living Dead in a forest at night

[lordcrumps]

4T2 Little Campers Kit

Sul Sul!

Today brings you a new conversion, the entirety of the Little Campers Kit!

Things to note;

@tvickiesims had some conversions done already, thank you for doing the projector and Gnome and allowing me to include!

She also gave me an option for the book piles to be a functional bookshelf, that is included too!

@platinumaspiration also did the doll house! Thanks again for letting me group it together!

Numerous surfaces have slots,

The activity table has been edited slightly (the chair rotated) and turned into an end table!

There is a deco item and a toy version of the Little Camping Buddy, the toy may be tidied away when sims clear up the toys so you might loose the money! Makes sense though, kids always loose stuff!

Collection file included!

Enjoy!

DOWNLOAD

@sims4t2bb whenever you get a moment!

[gaybd1]

Here’s a list of some false anglicisms!

A false anglicism, or pseudo-anglicism is a word in a language that sounds English but doesn’t actually carry the same meaning in English.

Wikipedia has a very very good list of examples; pretty much all of these come from there

In multiple languages:

autostop: hitchhiking (French, Italian, Polish, Serbo-Croatian, Greek, Russian, Spanish, Bulgarian, Hungarian)

basket: basketball (Danish, French, Indonesian, Italian, Spanish, Swedish, Greek)

camping: campsite or campground (French, Dutch, Greek, Bulgarian, Russian, Polish, Portuguese, Spanish)

smoking: dinner jacket, tuxedo, or smoking jacket (Danish, French, Portuguese, German, Italian, Dutch, Greek, Russian)

Korean

one shot: bottoms up (원샷)

hand phone: cellphone (핸드폰)

skinship: platonic hand-holding, hugging, etc. (스킨십)

French

baby-foot: table football

baby-parc: playpen

before: drinks before a party/"pregame" (opposite of after)

blind test: music quiz / 'name that tune'

brushing: blow-dry and styling

box: wifi router or parking space

dancing: dance hall

footing: jogging (though the real English word is also used in French with the same meaning)

pressing: dry cleaning shop

recordman/recordmans/recordwoman: record holder, especially in sports (also in Russian)

relooker/relooking: to makeover/a makeover

speaker/speakerine: rradio or television announcer

Italian

autogrill: rest area

beauty farm: spa

jolly: the joker in a pack of cards

pullman: a bus

smart working: remote work

water: toilet

Portuguese

outdoor: billboard

home office: work from home

Danish

butterfly: bow tie

cottoncoat: trench coat

doorstep: a short and informal press conference

monkeyclass: economy class

speedmarker: a felt-tip pen

timemanager – a calendar or notebook in which one writes down appointments

Dutch:

beamer: a video projector (also in German)

box: a playpen or a music speaker

videoclip: a music video

German

Bodybag: a messenger bag

Dressman: a male model

Flipper: a pinball machine

Funsport: a sport played for amusement, such as skateboarding or frisbee

Handy: a mobile phone

Jobticket: a free pass for public transport provided by an employer for employees

mobbing: bullying

Swedish:

after work: a meeting for drinks after the workday is finished

pocket: A paper-back book

[femtoddanderson]

behind the scenes

Steve harrington x Cinephile! reader

Summary: You work at the movie theater at the starcourt mall and Steve at scoops ahoy, you guys were always just the babysitters but what if you were more?

wc: 1.2k

note: this is my first post and blurb in over 2 years but im having fun again so expect a pt. 2

"I swear if anyone hears about this-"

"we're dead"

-

you glance at your watch and sigh as you stand by the the delivery access door with your foot against it to keep it ajar. they're five minutes late and at this rate they'll miss the iconic opening of the day of the dead. A opening you don't want to miss either; the seconds tick away as you contemplate ditching them to watch it for the third time by yourself or going back to your job of sweeping up theater two. And just at that moment you hear the growing bickering coming from the door.

you dip your head back into the hallway and glare.

"Hey! you're late!"

the group scurries in as you hold the door, "I swear if you make me miss this movie-"

"We're dead" the respond somewhat apologetically.

You all file into a row and take a seat. will unzips the backpack and begins passing out the snacks they smuggled in with them. You sigh and turn the other way to at least have plausible deniability. The projector whirs up and you lean to your right and bite your cheek in anticipation; you turn youre head already grinning as you watch them jump in their seats and the title card fades in.

-

“Hey are you ready to go?”

“Uh yep” robin responds as she closes the cash register.

“Robin your leaving? We still have 5 minutes until closing,” Steve responds exasperated.

“My ride is leaving so I’m leaving goodnight loser!”

You and Rob walk out and you say your goodbye: “have fun taking the kids home!”

You turn back walking towards the parking lot, and you hear a loud groan coming from the counter causing you two giggle with arms interlocked.

-

You and Steve bound because of the kids. But most of all Dustin. You were his real babysitter by choice and Steve was his babysitter by force.

Despite how much Dustin may claim he doesn’t need a babysitter, whenever the world was coming to an end you and Steve were there. And now you were there to welcome him home from his genius camp. You and Steve hung back watching el and them creep down the hallway to surprise him.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Steve attempts to break the silence coolly.

“Not much, me and rob are gonna see weird science supposed to be good…I mean it’s John Hughes,”

“Huh yeah so what is that like you’re 20th movie of the summer?”

“And what you’re going on your 20th date of the summer?”

“Ha, yeah I wish…no I’m working tonight” he looks back down to his feet.

Dustin’s voice grew louder as he walked down the hallway. “This camp was awesome it had an observatory, a billion telescopes, endless access to computers…” you’d never tell him but you missed hearing his geeky rants.

He finally acknowledges you and Steve’s presence when he reached the living room

“Hey I missed you guys so much. I even used the lady moves you taught me to get my girlfriend!”

There was a universal shock felt by everyone except Dustin. Girlfriend? You’ve barely been on one date and your little dork has a girlfriend?

“Oh you guys wanna meet her?” He grins as he leads the group out of the door.

“We’d love to dust but me and Steve have work, we’re happy you’re home”

“Yeah welcome home bud” Steve follows up as Dustin grins and shuts the door following his friends into the woods.

You mouth “girlfriend?”. He mouths back “lady moves?” with a genuine confused face.

You slap his arm laughing a little and open the door. He follows you to your respective cars.

“Hey if you’re not doing anything after work you should come see the movie with me and Robin it will be fun.”

He fixes his hair, “yeah maybe I’ll check my schedule” he says so not nonchalantly.

You chuckle a little considering five minutes ago he had nothing going on.

“Okay cool” you grin slightly, ducking into your car and turning your key.

-

You look up from your three ticket stubs to find Robin and Steve walking towards you, albeit totally engrossed in their conversation. the quarreling ends when they greet you with a sighing 'hi'.

"You came," you meet his eyes grinning.

"yeah I guess I made some time in my schedule," he responds cheekily, matching your grin.

Rob gawks at the locked eye contact between you too and takes it upon herself to break it up. "alright come on if I dont get cherry in the next 30 seconds I will kidnap one of your nerd kids to build me a new superhuman hot best friend".

You laugh at the reference and go to catch up with her. you look behind to find the joke to have gone over his head but following regardless causing you to laugh harder.

The three of you settle into your seats with your cold drinks and candy, all legally bought, and pass the popcorn around and the light dimming. It came as a surprise to Steve that you and robin were so vocal during the movie. Steve found a you he had never seen as he heard your laughs and jokes. For the first time this summer he had actually felt like he was having fun. He liked the movie but realized how much more fun everything can be with friends.

-

"okay lots of questionable character choices but feminism aside soundtrack 4.5/5, cinematography 3/5, and action 3.5/5 " you genuinely critic the absurd john hughes movie walking into the cool summer night's air.

Robin responds unprompted, "Um its a 5/5 on soundtrack, 2.5 on cinematography, and like a 3 on acting I mean what are they like 14? i dont know...what do you rate it Steve."

Steve had been visibly tuned out and was also confused by the conversation it seemed you two have had dozens of times. He scratches the space right above his ear. "It was good probably like a 4/5."

there was a silence of you and robin expecting more and exchanging a look confusingly. a honk came from behind.

"oh shit thats my mom, bye guys" she spits out quickly as she jogs to her moms chevy. "night" "bye" you and Steve respond.

He walks you to your car and you lean against it looking at his hazel eyes in the dim parking lot light. And he looks back at you in the same content way he did earlier in the night.

"I'm happy you came," you break the silence.

"I'm happy you invited me...movies are more fun with you guys"

"Oh yeah?" A smile begins to spread across your lips.

"more fun than I've had in a while actually," he steps in closer.

"Well I guess we'll just have to hang out more often" Your eyes flicker between his lightly tussled hair, his entrancing eyes. Your breaths get shallower.

"Yeah I would like that," he speaks in a tone only you and him could hear. A light breath bouncing off the tip of your nose.

[qinche-cvmslvt]

Forbidden

Content Warning: Manipulation, Heartbreak, Cheating, Betrayel, Emotional Outburst, Impulsive Behaviour. Fake Dating, Professor Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Principal Jenna, Exposure, Emotional Breakdown. Trust Violation and Emotional Fall out. Rumours, Gossip, Guilt and Gaslighting, Mentions of Administrative Negligence.

Tag List: @januke @kiss-the-universe @floofycookie @daddysyluslittlekitten @zozoparsnips @aneertawrites @ikesimpleton @mcdepressed290 @roselynviee @rorel1a @nchant6dkitty @aikonecrosis @harutogf

A/N: I’m sorry my lovelies… but this was bound to happen.

Chapter 14: The Plan

The auditorium was too bright, too loud, and too full of endings pretending to be beginnings. Graduation prep. That was the official excuse. The email had been all exclamation marks and excitement. Final ceremony rehearsal reminders, gown collection deadlines, and a speech submission deadline with the kind of urgency that felt more like a trap than an invitation but you weren’t thinking about speeches. Or gowns, or even the exact number of days left. You were thinking about fire and the man who had put it in your veins.

You sat near the middle, a clipboard balanced across your knees. Not because you were volunteering, though you told herself that’s why you’d shown up early, but because if you weren’t doing something, you might’ve drowned in the quiet.

The stage buzzed with the voice of Mrs Ellenor, the drama coordinator, who’d taken the microphone with all the enthusiasm of a Broadway understudy. “Caps and gowns will be distributed on the second Monday of next month,” she trilled. “And we still have open submissions for valedictorian speakers, so if you want to leave a mark, now’s your chance.”

A few students clapped but most didn’t. The projector screen behind her flicked through timelines, deadlines and reminders. Each one a neon sign screaming: Time is running out.

Two rows ahead of you, Xavier sat upright, a pen held loosely in one hand, his shoulders drawn tense beneath the casual blazer he wore like armor. He wasn’t watching the screen. Not really.

He’d turned just enough to keep you in the corner of his vision. Like he thought you didn’t notice but you did. You had all week. The way his voice had gone softer around you again. The way his jokes landed slower, edged with something waiting. The way he hadn’t asked again, about the dance, or camp. But the questions were still there. In every glance and every pause. You hadn’t spoken to Sylus since this morning. Not in person or in passing. Not even in a message. You had agreed, space at school, would keep you safe but it didn’t feel like space. It felt like punishment.

“Still breathing, cutie?”

The voice slid in beside you, velvet-smooth and drenched in mirth. Rafayel dropped into the seat next to yours like he’d been summoned by tension alone. He smelled like salt air and mischief. His sleeves were rolled, his collar popped open just enough to make it a problem.

“I was hoping the heat death of the universe would take me before this assembly did,” you muttered, flipping a page on your clipboard.

He chuckled. “Mmm. Morbid. Sexy.” He leaned in, lips ghosting near your ear. “Is that why you’re flushed? Existential dread?”

You glared sideways. “Shut up.”

“Could’ve sworn it was because you’ve been biting your lip for ten minutes straight,” he whispered. “Very distracting, by the way. Some of us are trying to focus on Ellenor’s theatrical genius.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. Rafayel’s presence was a shield in its own right, easy, noisy, and always just enough to keep the air from caving in.

Xavier turned then, just slightly, just enough to glance at you. Rafayel caught it and smiled wider while maintaining eye contact.

“Still watching?” he murmured under his breath. “He’s starting to crack, cutie. Thought I’d be the villain but he’s looking at you like he just found the twist in the story.”

Your stomach dropped. Because you didn’t want to hurt Xavier but you had. Even in silence. Even without meaning to. Your hand clenched the side of the clipboard. Rafayel noticed that, too.

“Don’t spiral,” he said quietly, voice stripped of mockery. “Just survive. Eyes forward. Smile when needed. And maybe…” He bumped your knee gently with his own. “Let yourself look happy once in a while. You deserve that.”

Your breath caught but you nodded.

The auditorium lights dimmed just slightly, low enough to mute the buzz of fluorescent harshness, but not so low it could hide anything. Not glances or tension and definitely not the moment Rafayel’s arm slid around your shoulders like it belonged there.

It was casual. Lazy and effortless but deliberate. You felt it before you even registered the movement, the warmth of him pressed along your side, the shift of his weight as he leaned in just a touch, fingers grazing the exposed curve of your upper arm.

“You look bored,” he murmured near your ear, lips tilted in a half-smirk only you could see. “Want me to fake a medical emergency?”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not with how close he was, not with the feel of his thumb drawing idle, slow circles at the slope of your shoulder, harmless to anyone watching. But under the surface? A move straight out of the playbook and they both knew who was watching.

Xavier sat two rows ahead. Stiff and silent. His shoulders squared too tightly, hands clenched in his lap, eyes staring a little too hard at the stage, like if he focused hard enough, maybe the weight of what he wasn’t willing to name would go away but it didn’t. You caught it in the way he shifted. The flicker of his head like he was about to turn around. Like the magnetic pull of you was getting harder to ignore.

Rafayel leaned in again, voice velvet-smooth. “He’s going to snap soon, you know.”

“Don’t,” you whispered back, your voice tighter than you meant it to be.

“Don’t what?” he asked, grinning now. “Don’t make it obvious? Or don’t enjoy it?”

You turned your face slightly, just enough to let your eyes flick toward him. He looked smug but underneath that smirk? Something sharper and protective. Like this wasn’t just a performance anymore. Like he knew the stakes and he wasn’t going to let you carry them alone.

“We’re not just playing anymore,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he replied. “But we’re still on stage. Might as well steal the scene.”

He leaned back, arm still draped around you with just the right mix of ease and intention. You didn’t shrug him off. You let him stay and two rows ahead, Xavier finally turned around. Just for a second. Long enough to see the way Rafayel grinned. Long enough to see the weight on your shoulder that wasn’t his. Long enough to feel the space between what he wanted and what he missed.

The assembly droned on. Something about gowns and speech drafts. Something about final grades and deadlines but all you could feel was heat. Not from Rafayel’s touch but from the danger of it all. From the way the plan was working too well. Because eyes were on you and the one pair that mattered most? They weren’t even in the room.

~

It started like all things dangerous do, quietly. A whispered comment exchanged in the hallway. A lingering glance that lasted just a moment too long. The way Rafayel’s arm had draped over your shoulder in that auditorium like you belonged to him, relaxed, unbothered, and intentional.

By lunch, the story had mutated.

“She’s dating Rafayel.”

“No, seriously. He kissed her after the assembly.”

“Didn’t you see them yesterday? They left together.”

“I heard they’ve been sneaking off after class.”

“She’s totally into bad boys.”

The girls in the locker room said it with raised brows and playful grins. The boys whispered it like it was a dare. Even the teachers, the ones who didn’t care enough to look closer, gave passing glances as if it made sense. As if it fit. Because of course it did. Rafayel was chaos in glitter and grins. He walked the halls like they belonged to him, flipped his tie over his shoulder like it was a scarf, and flirted with consequences like they were lovers he’d already conquered.

You’d been quiet lately. Withdrawn and distracted and now, suddenly, you were laughing again. Not in class, not near Sylus but around him. It didn’t take much for the school to decide what it wanted to believe.

You heard the whispers at your locker. Felt them crawl across your skin like static. A few girls smiled too sweetly. One boy winked and Rafayel? He just leaned against the wall beside you with that maddening grin and said nothing. He didn’t have to because every time he nudged your shoulder in the hallway. Every time he walked with you to class. Every time he smirked when someone stared, he fed the story. He performed it and you let him.

Because this was the plan. Because Sylus needed a shield. Because Rafayel had offered to be the flame but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. That it didn’t twist something inside you when a freshman girl passed you in the quad and whispered, not even trying to hide it. “God, they make such a hot couple.”

Rafayel didn’t blink. He leaned down, voice low near your ear, the same way he had that night on the dance floor. “You’re trending, cutie.”

You exhaled too slow and too tense.

“Don’t let it rattle you,” he added, softer now. “We wanted noise. This is the noise.”

You nodded but when you passed Sylus later in the corridor, nothing more than a glance exchanged, no touch, no pause, just a flicker of eyes, you saw it. He’d heard it too.

~

The corridor smelled like paint thinner and lavender. It was faint, clinging, and familiar. Rafayel followed it with a lazy sort of swagger, hands tucked into his blazer pockets, tie loose and swinging as he turned the corner by the old art wing.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not technically. The art building was half-abandoned this time of day, left to drying canvases and half-cleaned brushes, silent save for the hum of old lights and the occasional gust rattling the windowpanes but she had texted.

“Meet me after sixth, usual place.”

It was casual but it still made something warm flicker in his chest. He liked that about her, the way she never fussed, never begged. The way she touched him like she was doing him a favour, but whispered his name like it meant something. She made him feel chosen and Rafayel, for all his noise and teeth, had never been someone people chose for more than a laugh or a look.

He reached the last door, studio two and slowed. His boots scuffed quietly against the polished concrete. The scent of oils and turpentine clung heavier now, thick with something floral underneath.

He smiled, smoothed down his shirt, and reached for the handle. It was cracked open. He didn’t knock, he just pushed and the moment opened with sound. A breath and a laugh.

Not hers.

Not his.

The room was sunlit in shards, wide windows casting gold across the scattered stools and easels. The light hit her first. Her back to him, arms looped lazily around the neck of a boy who wasn’t Rafayel.

The boy was bigger and bulkier. Athletic in a way Rafayel never tried to be. He had one hand on her hip, the other buried in her hair, fingers tight enough to tug. Her lips were parted. Her mouth… occupied. Rafayel stopped dead in the doorway. The sound of his breath cut. He didn’t speak or shout. Didn’t even move. He just watched. Watched the slow, easy roll of her body into the kiss, the way she smiled into it. Like it was familiar and practiced. The kind of kiss that didn’t begin here. It had history and repetition.

The heat in his chest turned sour and heavy. Like something acid curling behind his ribs.

The sunlight, once golden, felt harsh and now brutal. Every colour in the room was too sharp. The peeling red of the lockers. The blue smudge of paint on the back of her hand. The pale, ink-stained shirt of the boy wrapped around her like a secret Rafayel was never meant to hear. He stepped back. One foot, then another. Quiet as a ghost swallowing his own scream.

The scent hit him again as he turned, the lavender, the oils and the betrayal baked into sunlight and sweat.

His stomach curled. He didn’t slam the door. He didn’t need to. They hadn’t even noticed him. Of course they hadn’t.

He walked and didn’t know where he was going, not at first. The campus blurred past in bursts of motion and colour. Students talking, bells ringing. A football slamming into a wall and someone cursing after it.

He didn’t hear any of it.

Just the memory. That laugh and that kiss. The way her hand had slid up the other boy’s chest, a move she did for him too. Used like a script someone else had memorized.

By the time he made it to the stone wall, he wasn’t walking anymore, he was drifting. You were already there. A grape between your fingers. Your brow furrowed like the world was manageable if you just focused hard enough. He sat beside you without asking. Slid down onto the stone like gravity had finally noticed him. Like the sky had gotten heavier and now it was his job to carry it in silence.

You glanced at him. “You okay?”

He looked straight ahead and smiled but the glitter was gone. You looked at him properly and froze. Not because he wasn’t smiling, he was. That same lazy tilt of the mouth. That same tousled hair, same scent of salt and spice and aftershave he definitely wasn’t supposed to be wearing. But his eyes…They were wrong.

The usual glimmer, that two-tone riot of pink and blue mischief was dimmed. Still bright, but not alive. The blue looked darker. The pink looked almost red. Like something had bled into them, staining the light.

You tilted your head. “Rafayel?”

He blinked slowly, then turned that crooked smile toward you.

“Hey, cutie.”

But it was muscle memory. A sound without soul and you felt it, truly felt it, in the way his gaze lingered on you just a second too long. Like he was searching for something in your face. A clue. A truth or maybe just a reason not to collapse right there on the stone.

You touched his arm. “Are you okay?” You asked again.

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you and for a moment, just one, you swore he was about to say something real. Something sharp. Something that would unravel you but instead, he grabbed a grape from your lunchbox and tossed it in the air. Caught it with his teeth. Chewed, swallowed and smiled again.

“Still sweet,” he said. “Lucky me.”

His arm rested behind you, not touching, but close. Close enough to make a statement and that’s when Xavier notices. He rounds the corner too fast, like momentum alone is driving him. His jaw clenched. Hands shoved deep into his pockets like they’re hiding something dangerous.

You see him first. See the storm in his eyes and your breath catches. Rafayel glances up and sees it too. That’s when he smiles. Not amused or smug. Sharp.

“Here we go,” he mutters under his breath, voice flat.

Xavier stops in front of them. His eyes flick from you to Rafayel’s body language.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, low and tight.

“What?” You whisper.

“This.” He gestures between you. “You and him.”

Rafayel doesn’t shift or flinch. “You’ll have to be more specific, mate. ‘Cause this could be flirting. Could be gossip. Could be a confession. Depends on what you’re hoping to catch me doing.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Xavier snaps. “People are talking.”

Rafayel shrugs. “Let them.”

Xavier turns to you and that’s what makes it worse. Because he doesn’t look angry. He looks confused and wounded.

“Is it true?” he asks. “You and him? This whole time?”

You open your mouth but can’t form any words. Because no, this wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. Rafayel lets out a soft, humorless laugh beside you.

“You’re still thinking it’s me?”

Xavier’s gaze snaps back to him and Rafayel stands. Not slow or lazy but deliberately.

“You’re smarter than that,” he says, quieter now. “Aren’t you?”

“What are you saying?” Xavier demands.

Rafayel steps closer, lowering his voice, just for him.

“I’m saying you’ve been barking up the wrong threat.” He tilts his head. The anger underneath his skin is pulsing now. “She was never hiding me, Xavier.”

A beat and then, “She was hiding him.”

He says it so calmly, so coldly, that it feels like the air drops ten degrees. Xavier goes still. Rafayel’s smile, what’s left of it, curves like a blade.

“You really think someone like me was the worst thing she could’ve done?”

He looks to you now. Not with rage. With something more final. Disgust. “Turns out I wasn’t the only one playing pretend.” He walks away whistling and the world breaks. Leaving you alone and Xavier was still staring at you. Not with rage but with quiet, dawning horror. Because now he knows

Your lungs seize. The second Rafayel’s footsteps fade down the path and out of sight, the silence descends like a noose, tight, merciless, and closing in.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

Your throat is dry. Your palms are sweating. Your vision blurs around the edges, not from tears but panic. Thick, acidic panic crawling up your chest and settling in the base of your skull, where it throbs like a siren.

What the fuck was that? Rafayel… told him?!

That wasn’t flirtation. That wasn’t playful chaos. That was a grenade with the pin ripped out and dropped at your feet.

Xavier is staring at you like you’re something rotten. Like he’s just realized the girl he liked, the one he defended and worried about and offered his heart to, was never real. Or worse, was and he just didn’t see it.

“You,” he says, low and quiet. But it hits like a slap. “You let me think it was him.”

You can’t speak. Your mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Your pulse is a drumbeat in your ears. Your thoughts spiral in broken, unfinished phrases, not like that, wasn’t supposed to, I didn’t mean to hurt—

“You let me look like a fucking idiot.”

The way he says it, it’s not loud. It doesn’t have to be. His disgust curdles every word.

“Xavier, please—”

“How long?” His voice cracks on it. “Was it at the dance? Before? Tell me, what was the moment you decided I was the joke?”

Your whole body trembles. “You’re not— You never were—”

“But you lied.” He cuts you off, voice rising now, barely reined in. “You lied, and you used me. You sat beside me in the library, let me hope. Let me think I mattered to you. And all that time… it was him.”

You can’t breathe. Your chest is too tight. Your legs feel hollow. The bile rising in your throat tastes like guilt and fear and the bitter metallic edge of being found out.

“You’re sleeping with him,” Xavier spits, voice curling in disgust. “Sylus. Your teacher. Jesus, I kept thinking it had to be Rafayel because at least that would’ve been fucked in a normal way. But this?”

His eyes flash, hurt and fury twisted into something dark. “He’s a grown man, and he’s touching you like—like you’re his equal.”

Tears finally fall because he’s right. About the fear, and about the risk. About everything you were pretending you could handle alone but you’re not ready to confess. Not out here. Not under his glare. Not when you can feel the rumour already taking root in his mind.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whisper.

His jaw clenches. “But you let it.”

Your spine goes rigid and your breath trembles. You swallow hard because you’re not ready to hear this. To feel it sharpened in his voice like a blade. “I didn’t plan it. It wasn’t—” your voice cracks. “You think I wanted this to be messy? That I wanted to fall for someone I couldn’t have?”

Xavier’s nostrils flare. “Couldn’t have? He’s your teacher. You weren’t supposed to look at him like that, let alone—” He breaks off, disgust warping his features. “Don’t stand there and make it sound like love.”

Your hands shake at your sides, knuckles white. “It is love.”

He laughs, sharp and bitter, nothing like the boy who used to smile at you from across the library table. “Love doesn’t happen like that. Not between someone with power and someone too young to know better.”

“I do know better.” Your voice rises, cracking at the edges. “And he’s not controlling me. He’s not using me. This didn’t start with him coming after me. It started with us—falling. Slowly and we tried—we tried to stop.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” you breathe. “We didn’t.”

Xavier looks away, hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the pavement like if he stares hard enough, he can bury it all beneath the concrete. “He should’ve known better. You should’ve stopped.”

You take a step forward, voice softer now. “I’m not a victim, Xavier.”

His head snaps up, eyes flashing. “You’re not the one who’s gonna lose everything when this comes out.”

Silence slams between you. Cold and final. The truth stings, because it’s not wrong.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” You whisper, chest heaving. “Tell someone?”

He doesn’t answer. You move closer, desperation clawing through your ribs. “Please don’t. Please. You have every right to hate me, to be angry. But don’t… don’t destroy him.”

Xavier’s gaze hardens. “And what about the rules? What about the line he crossed?”

You voice trembles. “You don’t know him. Not like I do.”

“I don’t want to know him. I want to know why the girl I gave a damn about, why you, stood in front of me and chose to protect the man who took advantage of you.”

You flinch. The words hit bone-deep and then quiet and broken.

“Because I love him,” you say.

Xavier stares at you for a long time and something in his face shifts. Not forgiveness. Not even understanding. Just… resignation. Like he’s watching someone he once knew fade into someone he can’t recognize. When he speaks again, his voice is lower.

“Then I hope he’s worth it.”

He turns without another word and this time, you don’t try to stop him.

~

Principal Jenna’s office smelled like printer toner and false calm. Rafayel stepped inside without knocking, closing the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click.

Jenna glanced up from her desk, visibly unimpressed. “Rafayel. Is there a reason you’ve decided protocol doesn’t apply to you today?”

He smiled lazily, but tight. Like something inside him was just barely leashed.

“Protocol’s such a cute word for denial,” he said, tone light. “And you’ve been indulging in a lot of that lately, haven’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re here about your grades—”

“I’m here,” he cut in, “because I’m curious. About a file.”

She paused. “What file?”

Rafayel stepped forward, resting his fingertips on the edge of her desk. Not threatening or casual. Just calculated.

“A student filed a concern months ago. About… behavior between a teacher and another student. It was submitted. Documented. Then it vanished.”

Jenna blinked once. Slowly. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything,” Rafayel said, voice velvet-smooth. “I’m stating a fact. You shelved it. Didn’t investigate. Didn’t even ask questions.”

“Because it was hearsay,” she said, too quickly. “Unverified. No names, no dates—”

“But someone tried to tell you,” Rafayel interrupted softly. “And you didn’t listen.”

He let that hang. Long enough for her brain to start building connections. The ones he wasn’t making. Jenna’s fingers curled slightly on her desk.

“You know,” Rafayel added, gaze flicking toward the filing cabinet near her shoulder, “I always wondered what kind of things get buried in that drawer.”

She stiffened and he smiled again. More teeth this time.

“I guess the question is… if someone came forward now, with dates, names, maybe even proof… Would you still ignore it?”

Jenna’s face was unreadable but her silence screamed. Rafayel stepped back, letting her stew in it and just before he left, hand on the knob, he said quietly, calmly.

“Some wolves don’t bite unless they’re cornered, Jenna.”

He didn’t look back, didn’t have to. Because behind him, Jenna was already standing. Already reaching for the cabinet. Already assuming he meant them. Not knowing the storm she buried months ago might be his own.

The key slid into the filing cabinet’s lock, rusted and familiar. She opened the second drawer, reached to the back, and pulled out the old folder. Yellow tab. Bottom corner. Dust kissed her knuckles as she set it down.

The file opened like a wound and the first page was messy, barely-legible.

MEMO: Unauthorized Use of Art Block

Date: March 6th

Motion sensor data triggered between 10:08PM – 12:43AM

Keycard access logged but no timestamp recorded.

Reports of laughter, male and female, by maintenance staff.

Request for follow-up: denied. No formal investigation initiated.

She stared at the memo. Why didn’t I follow this up? Because it was late. Because she was tired. Because it was the art building. Senior students stayed late all the time to finish assignments and she had let it slide.

Jenna flipped to the next report. Labeled Senior Formal – Unverified Sighting.

Witness Report:

Observed Professor Sylus and unidentified female student in gymnasium after dance concluded. Time: approx. 11:52 PM.

Low lighting. No other staff present. Witness unable to confirm contact but noted proximity, hush-toned conversation, and lingering body language.

Quote from witness: “They weren’t just talking.”

Filed: no action. No name of student confirmed.

Her stomach twisted. She sat back in her chair, fingers pressed hard to her mouth as she thought about some chatter she heard recently. A student at the winter camp was seen wearing Professor Sylus�� hoodie. A female student.

Jenna pressed the folder closed like it might still be possible to forget what she’d seen but the pattern was obvious now.

Art block. Senior formal. Winter camp. Two different trails but only one led to the name she couldn’t ignore.

Sylus.

The silent teacher. The teacher who never cracked. Who never slipped. Until now.

Outside her office window, Rafayel leaned lazily against the far wall, spinning a pencil between his fingers. He wasn’t looking at her but he didn’t have to. He’d already played his move and Jenna? She was chasing the wrong wolf.

~

The hallway is a blur. A smear of white walls and grey floor and echoes of footsteps that don’t belong to you. You’re not walking, you’re surviving. Moving with the singular focus of someone who has nowhere else to go.

Rafayel detonated the plan. Xavier knows too much and now your heart’s in your throat, burning with every thud.

You reach Sylus’ office. You don’t knock. You can’t, because your hands won’t stop shaking. You open the door like a girl possessed and shut it behind you, spine pressed to the wood like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

Sylus is there behind his desk. Reading something, half-turned, and calm. He looks up and he knows. He sees it instantly.

The moment his eyes meet yours, something cold flashes in them. Not anger or surprise. Just that deep, terrible awareness he only gets when the world shifts beneath his feet.

“Close the door,” he says.

“It’s closed,” you whisper.

Then he’s moving, calm, slow, and deliberate but by the time he rounds the desk, your voice cracks like a bone beneath weight.

“Xavier knows.”

That stops him. Just for a breath. Just a blink but the silence in the room becomes sharp.

“Say that again,” he says, low.

“Xavier knows,” you repeat, louder this time, voice breaking. “Rafayel said something, he said too much. I don’t know if he meant to, I don’t know if he meant to burn me, to burn us but Xavier knows. He knows, Sylus.”

He steps closer, slowly. Like you’re a bird with a broken wing and he can’t risk making it worse but you keep going, words unraveling fast and frantic.

“He said I let him look like a fucking idiot. He knows it’s not Rafayel. He knows it’s you and I—I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, I swear—”

“Sweetie.” His voice cuts through the spiral, calm but firm. One word. Your name.

You stop.

He reaches you. Doesn’t touch you yet. Just looks. Your chest is heaving, your lips are trembling and your eyes are haunted.

His voice is lower now, measured. “Did he threaten to report it?”

You shake your head. “He didn’t say. But he… he could. He will. He looked at me like I was—like I betrayed him.”

Something flares behind Sylus’ eyes then. Not fear but resolve and then he does touch you.

His hands come to your arms, firm and grounding. His jaw is tight. “Look at me.”

You do. Barely.

“If this blows up, it’s on me,” he says. “Not you. I was the one with the responsibility. I was the one who knew better.”

“No—” your voice snaps, raw. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to carry it alone. I chose this. I’m not some naive little girl who got swept up in something bigger. I knew. I knew it was risky. I knew it was wrong and I still—”

He silences you with a hand to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone like a benediction.

“I know.”

You stare at each other. The space between you tight with everything you can’t afford to say.

Then softly, and bitterly you whisper, “We’re going to lose everything.”

Sylus leans in, forehead to yours and his breath fanning your lips.

“No,” he says. “We’ve already risked everything. Now we decide if it was worth it.”

His hands curl into your hair.

“And it was.”

.

.

.

[fatkish]

Aizawa x child reader (age range preferably 4 through 8) who’s scared of the dark please

I hope you don’t mind that I kinda turned this into a slightly Present Mic x child reader x Aizawa

Aizawa x Child reader

Similar to Eri, the reader is a child that has a powerful quirk and was a victim of villains. The villains that were keeping the reader were using them as a healing tool and held them for 3 years

The reader’s quirk allows them to utilize and manipulate light energy. Their quirk works by absorbing light particles and turning them into energy that they can store up or use immediately. They can bend light and reflect/refract it, they can condense and harden the particles to create solid and non solid illusions, generate force fields, create lasers as well as use the energy to heal.

Their quirk can activate with even the smallest amount of light. The reader is kind of like a plant in the way that they need a source of light to use their quirk so that they can harness the energy or else they won’t have any energy to use

Knowing that the reader’s quirk was really strong, the villains kept the reader locked up inside a dark room where it was pitch black. The only time there was ever any light allowed near them was when one of the villains was hurt and needed to be healed. The villains would go into the room and light a small candle so the reader would have just enough energy to be able to heal them but be unable to store up any to use against them

Eventually there was a raid on the villain’s base where Present Mic was one of the heroes on the mission. He was the one to discover the reader and save them. After police looked into the child’s family they found that the reader’s parents were criminals who sold the reader to make money of their quirk.

Since saving the reader, Mic would visit them since he was the only person the child would allow near them. Mic and the reader quickly grew attached to each other, so Mic decided to adopt the reader.

Hizashi was told by the reader’s therapist that the reader was terrified of the dark so much, that even being in a room with the lights off and the window open allowing light in would trigger them. The reader was so terrified of the darkness that they would panic if there was a dark corner in a room where they couldn’t see what was there.

Hizashi’s solution was to buy all kinds of night lights, string lights, LEDs, light projectors,etc. he even bought glow in the dark paint and stars. There wasn’t a single place in his house that was dark. The corners and other places where shadows would be like under furniture were lit by LEDs

Whenever Hizashi was stuck at work when it was late, he would have either Midnight or Aizawa babysit the reader. The reader was originally scared of Aizawa at first, but after he bought them glow in the dark cat pajamas (which horrified Hizashi at how tacky they were but you loved them so he said nothing) they loved him and started calling him Uncle ‘Zawa

One day there was a fight between heroes and an EMP villain who was using quirk enhancing drugs near Mic’s house. The Villain’s quirk basically made any electrical device in their nearby vicinity obsolete. All electrical devices in the area were affected.

Knowing that he would be staying late at his Radio station and that he wouldn’t be home until late night or early morning, Hizashi called Aizawa and told him the situation begging for him to stay with the reader since the power wouldn’t be restored until early morning. Understanding the situation, Aizawa agreed and made sure to bring a few things like a portable DVD player and some candles

Once Aizawa got to Mic’s house that evening, he dismissed the babysitter/nanny and told the reader that they were going to build a giant blanket fort in the living room and pretend to go camping. The reader was excited and wanted to surprise Mic so they quickly began gather all the blankets and pillows, bringing them to Aizawa as he put the fort together.

After that he gathered all the non electronic light sources and when the sun set, he turned them all on, lighting all the candles

That night Aizawa and the reader spent their time watching movies, reading glow in the dark books, and listening to Aizawa tell stories of Mic being an idiot in highschool.

When the reader was tired, Aizawa got out his sleeping bag and let the reader snuggle up to him as he held them. Whenever the reader was scared, Aizawa would hold them and quietly shush them, rubbing their back and kissing their cheeks telling them that he would keep them safe

That night Aizawa and reader slept together in his sleeping bag inside their fort. When Hizashi got home he found them snuggled up together and took as many pictures on his phone as possible

Hope you enjoyed this. Sorry if it’s a little short.

[pirateprincessblog]

Daddy Chronicles

𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉! 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝘼𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙍𝙊𝘼𝘾𝙃 𝙄𝙎𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙐𝙄𝙏𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙋𝙀𝙊𝙋𝙇𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘼𝙂𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝟭𝟴｡

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲? ↳ Go Back ↳ Nah, I'm good

The boys are all aged up, I do not mention the exact age anywhere, so you are free to imagine whatever you want.

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝟎% 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳!

read for me

park seonghwa ➳ bookworm!reader, ceo!seonghwa, bestfriend'sdad!seonghwa

synopsis: best friend's father has a rather big book collection, and you are a big bookworm who has started losing touch with reality. he shows you just how real it can get away from the covers and pages.

one

two

three

in vino veritas

kim hongjoong ➳ artist!hongjoong, dilf!hongjoong

synopsis: hongjoong loves art, wine, and pretty girls. how convenient that on the opening night of his art gallery, as he sips his red wine, his eyes land on you.

one

player 9

jeong yunho ➳ footballplayer!yunho, coach!yunho, aunt!reader

synopsis: you always thought that your nephew's football coach was handsome, and when he invites all the parents and families to come watch him play a big match, you struggle to keep your cool while watching his clothes stick to his body and his face and muscles glistening with sweat.

one

three is a crowd

kang yeosang ➳ swimminginstructor!yeosang

synopsis: a tragic event in your childhood created an aquaphobia for you. at pool parties, beaches, and camping, you are always the one to stay out of the water. until your father finds you a swimming instructor, who solves one problem, but creates another one.

put on a show

song mingi ➳ ceo!mingi, fashiondesigner!mingi, model!reader

synopsis: your ceo is to die for. drop dead gorgeous, aged like fine wine, a figure you’d kill to have. his only problem? he might be the meanest person you’ve ever met in your life. then why are you enjoying his degrading words as he makes you take every inch he has to give you?

silver band

choi san ➳ collegeprofessor!san, student!reader

synopsis: choi san is a married man, and the hottest professor you’ve ever seen. you feel unnatural amounts of jealousy and hatred each time he opens his laptop to start the lesson, showing everyone through the projector the desktop picture of his wife while he opens the files he needs to teach. you want a taste of him so bad, but he shows zero interest towards you. or anyone else. so how will you pull this off?

white dress

choi jongho ➳ dad’sbestfriend!jongho, bride!reader

synopsis: you don’t love this man at all. he is a cheater, he hits you, he flirts with other women in front of you. what has gotten into your father’s mind and is forcing you to marry that bastard? maybe his best friend has a little more compassion and will notice your silent cries for help.

20% off next buy

jung wooyoung ➳ cashier!wooyoung, pervyneighbour!wooyoung, innocentexploring!reader

synopsis: never in your life did you see a dildo this huge. it’s so… big, so purple, and it’s staring right back at you. the cashier seems to notice your horrified face with each isle you walk down, and he can’t help but offer you help. how can he help, when even you don’t know what you’re looking for?

[maeintree]

chapter i. | into the hollow

Summary: Your long-awaited vacation is cut short when Bill Randa drags you into a classified expedition. Now, you’re stuck in a room full of military personnel, a photographer, and a quiet but observant tracker, James Conrad. As Randa and Houston Brooks explain their Hollow Earth theory, you start to realize—this mission is more than it seems, and Conrad knows it too. Pairing: James Conrad x Field Medic!Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Military themes, strong language, slow burn romance, suspense, mentions of injuries, canon-typical violence Author's Note: setting the stage for the expedition! this chapter introduces key players and builds up the tension before skull island, and it's a little short and i'm sorry! hope you enjoy nevertheless.

Masterlist | ← Previous Chapter ⋆ Next Chapter →

The room is stuffy and thick with the scent of old paper, burnt coffee, and sweat. A single oscillating fan hums from the corner, doing little to push the heat around.

The walls are lined with maps, aerial photographs, and classified documents tacked to corkboards, the kind of place where bad ideas are made to sound reasonable. 

You pause in the doorway, eyes sweeping over the faces gathered inside. Your sweater sleeve covers your nose, shielding you from the foul stench wafting through the room. Fucking smells in here. 

It sucks, you think. All these soldiers (as well as Landsat), just like you, were ready to go home—finally take a break, see their kids, and enjoy some peace after the war with Vietnam. But instead, you’re being sent off again, dragged into a mission with a bunch of maniacs convinced they'll find something on an island that will probably get them all killed.

The projector turns on, and a man starts speaking: "Hello and welcome. I'm Landsat Field Supervisor Victor Nieves." He points to a blond man at the front: "This is my colleague Steve Woodward, our data wrangler."

He continues, "Our expedition takes us to a place every nautical trade route known to man has avoided for centuries. As for our satellites show that the island is surrounded by a perpetual storm system, allowing it to remain hidden from the outside world; but with Colonel Packard's helicopter transport, we will be the first to break through to the other side." 

"We're also pleased to be joined, for the first time, by the resource exploration team led by Mr. Randa and accompanied by biologist Miss San, geologist Mr. Brooks, and Field Medic," he says your name. Heads turn toward Bill, Houston, and the biologist, while you remain at the very back, mostly unnoticed—except for Conrad, who glances back at you.

"Our focus will be on the island's surface, theirs, what lies beneath." He turns his head towards Houston, "Mr. Brooks," signaling for him to go to the front. 

"Simple really, we'll use explosives to shake the earth and create vibrations, helping us map the subsurface of the island." The projector switches to the bombing plan. "We'll fly in over the south shore and strategically drop seismic charges to better understand the earth's density."  

"You're dropping bombs?" Conrad’s British accent cuts through the room.  

Houston nods awkwardly. "...Eh, scientific instruments."  

A soldier chuckles. "You hear that, boys? We're scientists now!" Laughter follows.  

Woodward, a.k.a blond man grunts. "You guys are not scientists."  

"We'll land and set up base camp for ground excursions led by Captain Conrad." Conrad gives a slight nod. The speaker scans the room before calling out, "Major Jack Chapman."  

A tall, broad-shouldered man in a crisp military uniform steps forward, his presence commanding attention. His thick Southern drawl carries through the room as he begins speaking.

"Once on the island, the storm’s interference will cut radio contact with the ship. We’ll be on our own." The projector clicks again.  

"Three days later, the refueling team meets us here." Chapman points to the north end of the island. "That may be our only safe departure window."  

"So, tip for everybody—don’t miss it. Please."  

The supervisor wraps it up. "Alright, back to your places. We fly in the morning. Good luck."  

You’re the first out, escaping the awful-smelling room and into the cold, salty air. The meeting was exactly what you expected—reckless plans wrapped in scientific excuses. Pulling your sweater tighter, you descend the metal stairs, boots clanking against steel. 

"Goddamn suicide mission. Why am I in this? Why, dear Lord, why?" you whisper to yourself. 

You flip through the file Randa gave you again, hoping for some kind of reassurance. The words blur together, refusing to sink in no matter how many times you read them. Everything happened too fast—too sudden for the gravity of it all to truly settle.  

Just yesterday, you had stormed into Randa’s office, furious at him for going back to the senator. And somehow, Senate Willis agreed to this insanity. Jesus Christ. Probably worried about competition, afraid the Soviets would find something first. But still—goddamn.

The ship sways gently beneath you, the deep hum of the engine vibrating through the deck. Around you, soldiers linger in small groups, their laughter and conversation blending with the distant crash of waves.

You weave through narrow corridors, the dim overhead lights flickering slightly with each shift of the vessel.

Eventually, you find your way down to a storage unit, stacked high with crates stamped with military insignias and Landsat labels. Equipment—cameras, geological tools, radios—piles upon piles of supplies meant for an expedition that feels more like an invasion. 

As you scan the room, a faint shimmer of light catches your eye from the far corner. Curious, you step closer.  

Conrad stands near a stack of crates, the small flicker of a lighter illuminating his face in the dimly lit storage bay. Shadows dance across the sharp angles of his jaw as he reads the labels, his expression unreadable. At the sound of your footsteps, he turns, brows furrowed.  

"What are you doing down here?" he asks, his voice low, steady.  

You lean against a crate, arms crossed. "I could ask you the same thing." The air smells of wood, metal, and a faint trace of oil. 

Glancing at the boxes, you feign casual curiosity. "Why does a geological mapping mission need explosives?"  

He tilts his head slightly, watching you. "You weren’t listening in class. Seismic charges for the geological survey."  

You walk past him, fingers trailing over the rough wooden crates, scanning the stenciled labels. Landsat Equipment. Seismic Survey. Your lips press together. "Uh-huh. You believe that?"  

"I didn’t say that," he replies simply.  

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shift gears. "Have you met Colonel Packard yet?"  

Conrad nods. "Yeah."  

You scoff. "The guy's wound pretty tight."  

Conrad shrugs, flicking his lighter open and shut. "Well, the man's a decorated war hero. That’s the package they come in." His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he asks, "And you? Isn’t one field medic on a jungle mission a step down for medical?"  

You narrow your eyes. "I didn’t choose to be here," you say, tone edged. Then, arching a brow, you add, "Are you doubting my credibility? Safe to say, I think I’m a damn good medic."  

He smirks faintly. "And being here doubles the small pay you have."  

You huff a quiet laugh. "Huh. Okay, Captain Conrad, what about you?" You tilt your head, challenging. "How did British Special Forces get roped into this?"  

"Just Conrad," he corrects. "I’m decommissioned."  

"Mhm."  

"They offered me money," he says as if that explains everything.  

"Ah, right. Just like the small pay you mentioned earlier." You mimic his words with a smirk, catching the slight flicker of amusement in his expression. "You don’t strike me as a mercenary."  

He meets your gaze, unreadable. "And you don’t strike me as someone who’s seen war."  

You hold his stare. "Government field medic," you clarify. "I don’t do war."  

The ship creaks, metal shifting with the waves. For a moment, silence stretches between you, something unspoken settling in the air. Then, a sharp click—a sudden flash blinds you.  

"Sorry, documentation," a voice chimes. You blink, turning to see Mason—Weaver, or whatever her name is—grinning slyly, camera in hand. "Also, both of you are being called."  

You clear your throat, glancing at Conrad before nodding toward the stairs. "You coming?"  

He hesitates, flicking his lighter one last time before pocketing it. His gaze lingers on the crates as if considering something. Then, with a small nod, he exhales.  

"Yeah."

You and Conrad barely make it a few steps toward the stairs before the sound of approaching footsteps echoes through the storage bay. The dim overhead lights flicker as the ship sways, casting long shadows over the crates.

Turning your head, you spot Bill Randa, Houston Brooks, and San Lin making their way toward you. Randa looks as intense as ever, his gaze sharp behind those thick glasses, while Houston appears more at ease, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

San Lin moves with quiet curiosity, eyes scanning the stacks of equipment.  

“There you are,” Randa says, adjusting his glasses. His voice carries that same urgency he’s had since the beginning of this mission. “We were looking for you both.”  

Conrad tucks his hands into his pockets, glancing briefly at you before replying. “Didn’t realize we had a curfew.”  

Houston chuckles under his breath as he steps past, running a hand over one of the crates. “Impressive setup, huh? Landsat really went all in.” He tilts his head at one of the labels.

Geological Survey Equipment. Seismic Imaging.

“This stuff could map the entire island in incredible detail… or, you know, do a hell of a lot more than that.”  

San Lin examines a set of carefully sealed containers, each marked with biohazard symbols and research tags. “I assume you two weren’t just down here sightseeing?” she asks, her voice calm but pointed.  

“Sightseeing’s not really my thing,” you reply, crossing your arms.  

Randa exhales, clearly uninterested in small talk. “The mission briefing is over, and I need you both focused. There’s a lot you don’t understand yet.” He turns toward the crates, pressing a palm against one as if grounding himself.

“Everything we need to confirm our theory is right here.”  

You exchange a glance with Conrad, who looks just as unconvinced as you feel. “Right,” you say, voice dry. “A theory.”  

Houston gestures toward a nearby set of steel doors at the back of the bay. “Come on, since you’re down here, might as well take a look at the other storage areas.”  

Reluctantly, you follow as he pushes the doors open, revealing another section of the ship lined with rows of metal shelves and stacked crates. Inside, floodlights hum overhead, casting a harsh white glow over the neatly organized equipment.

Maps and geological charts are pinned to a board near the entrance, displaying rough sketches of Skull Island’s terrain. A few scientists are inside, cataloging supplies—mostly radios, first aid kits, and survival gear.  

Near the back, a weapons locker sits against the wall, its steel doors secured with heavy-duty locks.

Inside the mesh barrier, you can make out the unmistakable shapes of rifles, handguns, and stacks of ammunition. Next to it, another container is marked with a bold red symbol—explosives.  

You glance at Conrad, who doesn’t seem surprised.  

“Seismic charges, huh?” you murmur, voice laced with skepticism.  

Randa ignores you, stepping further inside as if absorbing the weight of everything stored here. “We are on the brink of discovery,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.  

Houston, ever the optimist, claps a hand against one of the crates. “Let’s just hope we live long enough to see it.”  

You shiver slightly as a draft creeps in from somewhere, the cold steel walls doing little to keep out the ocean’s chill. Folding your arms, you take a slow step back toward the door.  

“Yeah,” you mutter. ���Let’s hope.”

The spare bedroom is small, barely enough space for the two cots squeezed into opposite corners. A single overhead light flickers, casting a dim yellowish glow over the metal walls. You drop your bag onto the cot closest to the wall, exhaling as you finally sit down. The air smells faintly of salt and oil, but at least it’s better than that god-awful meeting room.

Mason sets her camera bag down by her bed, stretching her arms with a tired sigh. “So,” she starts, glancing at you with a knowing smirk, “what were you and Conrad doing down there?”

You huff a quiet laugh, kicking off your boots. “Sightseeing.”

She raises a brow. “Right. Sightseeing in a dark cargo hold full of explosives and classified equipment?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one with a lighter and a suspicious amount of curiosity,” you say, leaning back against the wall. “Conrad was already there when I showed up.”

Mason hums, clearly unconvinced but amused. “Mm-hmm. You two seemed cozy.”

You scoff. “If by ‘cozy’ you mean questioning the sanity of this mission, then yeah, sure.”

“Seriously, though,” she says, shifting to face you. “What do you think’s really going on with this mission?”

You exhale, staring at the ceiling. “Nothing good. Randa’s desperate, Packard’s got that war-hungry look in his eye, and those ‘seismic charges’ aren’t fooling anyone.”

Mason nods. “Yeah. Feels off.” She fiddles with her camera. “But at least we’ve got front-row seats.”

You watch her adjust the lens, her fingers moving with practiced ease. “You believe in all that—exposing the truth, showing people what they don’t want to see?”

She shrugs. “Someone has to.”

You smirk. “Lucky us.”

A pause lingers between you before you smirk. “Alright, journalist. If we live through this, first round’s on you.”

Mason laughs. “Deal.”

The ship groans as another wave rolls beneath it, but for the first time tonight, the tension in your chest eases just a little.

funny how she said she doesn't do sightseeing then says she does to mason.. kinda weird, anyway that was chapter one! i used most of the script from the movie itself to actually feel like you're in it. hope you enjoyed, lots of love from me! (sorry if it was too short, the chapters will be much more longer later on!)

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!