#i dont know what the x-office was thinking with this camp ass cover but i dig it sm

[elusiveweekend]

my friend and i were talking about our own xmen movie lineups and we talked about a solo scottemma movie after dark phoenix set right before astonishing and i cant think of anything else atm cause. 1) it would be about scott, grief and transition to leader of mutantkind™ 2) it would be about emma and self-forgiveness 3) it'd be 2 hours of them running around some villain while trying to label their relationship after the affair 4) they're gonna put on these hippie costumes at some point in the plot 5) its gonna be funny as hell (imagine the marketing) 6) HIPPIE COSTUMES

[avidfanficwriter]

Barbie (Chapter 9)

Chris Pine X Reader.

Summary: What started as a simple date ended as a failed romance. Or has it truly failed?

Warnings: Cursing, as per use.

Masterlist

Tags:  @mitaputri0412 @wolflhards

You hadn’t been able to speak to Chris before a officer had him pinned against the wall and was placing cuffs around his hand, Beau however was being forced onto the floor with blood dripping from his mouth in anger.

“I dont know man, he came at me!” Beau argued in a rushed tone, trying to make him look innocent. “I was on my way, to visit my Nana n’ this boy, h–he came outta nowhere.”

The sentence was partially true, Beau’s Nana had passed away seven years ago and he never once went to her grave sight not even to attend her Funeral. The line about Chris however was true, he did just attack Beau. There was no excuse, no way you could come to his defense.

An older woman in a blue police uniform approaches you with a permanent annoyed expression on her face. “Want to tell me what happened here, miss?”

“I-I don’t know.” You say with an expression of confusion. For once it was the truth when you spoke to police officers.

“Those two got in a scuffle?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“What about?”

“I dont know.”

“Well, be back if we need something else from you.” She says, shaking her head. The tell sign that she doesn’t believe you.

“Wait… Ma'am, where are you taking them?”

“Which one you want? Pretty boy or the guy I wouldn’t let me daughter date?” She asks continuing to walk away.

“Pretty boy?” You say worried that it’s the wrong man she’s referring too.

“He’ll be at the L.A. jail. We’re gonna hold them until we can figure out what happened.” She says opening the door to the stairs. “Bring bail money to be safe.”

It’s a statement you’re all to familiar with, bail money. Nearly every time you went out with Beau regardless of the location, to a restaurant, a family event bail money was something you’d have on hand and this time was no different. Hidden in your television stand was ‘bail money’ that you allowed to pile up just because it was routine now. Throw a few dollars down and call it a day.

You gathered the cash tossing it into your purse and headed off to the police station trying to remain clam and focused.

“I’m here for Chris Pine.” You say once you get inside of the station, trying to hold back the scream that’s trying to break through.

“One moment.” The man says, searching through a stack of paperwork. “Alright, follow me.”

You slowly walk behind the man, playing with your fingers while his keys jingle with every step he takes. The halls are quiet with barely any activity from even the prisoners themselves, most of which look like they are recovering from benders. Until your eyes land on Beau, he’s sitting in a corner, his hands in his lap and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Wait here.” The officer says as he walks into a door, closing and locking it behind him.

Your eyes struggle to face forward, to avoid Beau but he’s there. Sitting, his face slowly filling with sorrow until he speaks. “You know, You n’ him ain’t gon’ make it, right, Y/N?” Beau says with an angered expression etched on his face.

“Why do you think that?” You spit at him, starring at him through the metal bars, mimicking moments from your past.

“Cause you ain’t pretty enough for him.” The words sting but you don’t dare allow him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt your feelings. “You ain’t got no chest, no ass, no face unless yous cover it in make up and even then you are a four at best.”

“Maybe I’m not to him.” You aren’t sure how the words manage to form without a single tear dropping.

“He feels sorry for ya.” His Brooklyn accent sneaks through, showing traces of the young teen your fell for.

“And what you love me?”

“I didn’t say I loved ya but you ain’t gon’ get better than me.”

“Maybe i want something better than you.”

“I won’t let ya.”

“So, I’m not pretty enough for anyone but you want me?”

Beau chuckles to himself. “Maybe I don’t deserve someone prettier either.”

Your eyes fill with anger and your chest heaves. “Screw you, Beau.”

“I’m just sayin’ the truth, Y/N.” He argues, shrugging his shoulders.

“If all that was true why did you move in near me?” You step towards the bar, curiosity gets the best of you.

“Luck.”

“Liar.”

“I missed ya’.”

“Liar.”

You watch the look on Beau’s face shift, going from remorseful to resentment. “Just cause’ i don’t want ya’ don’t mean I want someone else too.”

You stare at him in shock before the sound of the door opening behind you pulls your attention away from him. “Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to come this way.” The officer says once he steps back into the room, slowly wrapping his hand around your arm.

“Wha...What’s going on?” You ask confused as he forces you to walk.

“Walk this way, Ma’am.” He says, yanking you forward.

He pulls you into a small room, ordering you to sit in the chair as another man joins you, dressed in a blue suit with his hair slicked back.

“Good morning, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Morning.” you respond in a unsure voice.

“Ma’am, the night of the break in, did you see the perpetrator?”

You stare at him, confused. “Sir, I’m just trying to bail my boyf--”

“Yes, we know.” The man says, buttoning his suit. “Answer the question.”

“No, I didn’t. I think Chris might have.”  You say, shaking your head. “I’m...I’m not sure.” 

The detective nods, “Right... You determined that nothing was stolen correct?” 

You nod. 

“And this Chris, what’s your relationship with him?” he asks, in a low tone. 

You’re eyes go wide and you clear your throat. The questions should be simple but it’s not, just like the night before when the officer had asked what Chris was to you, you were stuck. Only this time Chris wasn’t by your side to answer the question for you. He wasn't a boyfriend, he made that clear but then he made an excuse to come see you. Chris was... something. You can see the annoyance that was present in the detectives eyes and hear the sound of the clock ticking the seconds as you search for the word. “He’s my... boyfriend.” You say in a puzzled tone. 

“Thought the tattooed fella was.” he remarks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“No!” You shout standing up from your seat. “I mean...” You clear your throat nervously and sit back down in the chair, trying to compose yourself. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.” 

The detective chuckles, glancing at the other man in the room. “Great just another case of boyfriend versus the ex-boyfriend.” 

“I’m sorry?” You ask confused. 

“Listen, honey; dont bring your relationship problems into my house or I’ll be forced to settle them for you.” 

“I didn’t...” You start to say as the detective stands up and motions for the door to unlock. “What’s going on?” 

“You’re going home, so’s that boy of yours.” He nods. “We’ll let the other out in a few hours.” 

The moments a blur, full of confusion and stress. it makes your gut wrench that the police believe this is nothing more than a spat between ex lovers rather possibly something much more sinister at play. In a manner of seconds as if they couldn’t be bothered your escorted out of the police station and left outside on the side walk even more confused. You shake your head, running your hands through your hair as you start to walk away when you hear Chris shouting at the police officers behind you.  

“I’m serious!” He shouts as they toss him out of the building. 

“Go home!” They respond closing the door loudly. 

“Chris?” You say in a small voice, turning to look at him. He’s angry. His posture is threatening and his voice is deeper than normally. 

“That fucking fuck!” Chris shouts outside of the prescient.

“Chris, calm down.”

“That asshole!” He shouts before taking a deep breath to compose himself. “That asshole is the guy that broke into your damn place.”

“What?” You ask perplexed.

“Beau, he’s the guy that broke into your place the other night.” It made sense now, the robbery, the jewelry box being smashed. Beau hate it since you two got together, he’d convince you to get rid of it, beg you at times. The damn thing was broken now, he was sending you a message, practically teasing you that he was the one who broke in. “Thank god for your taste in men, huh!” He shouts angry, tossing his hands up in the air. “You just had to shack up with some psychopath.” 

“I never asked you to stay Chris.” You argue 

“Yeah, but you also didn’t warn me about your fucking psychotic ex.” 

You swallow hard and the door to the police prescient opens once again, “Hey, do we got a problem here? Do i need to arrest you for disturbing the peace and actually charge you now?” The detective from earlier shouts

You take a look at the police officer with an annoyed expression on your face, “No, I was just leaving.” You say before storming off, holding your purse tightly in your hand. You can still hear Chris muttering to himself and in anger. 

You’re a block away from your house when you hear Chris shouting at you. “Y/N, stop.” He pleas his voice calming now. 

“What do you want?” You retort. 

“I’m not letting you go home.” 

“Aren’t you worried about my psychotic ex?” You mock. 

Chris shakes his head, his eyes low. “I was raised by good parents who taught me if a woman is in danger and i know about that, I had a right...” he says loudly. “A right to try and help her.” 

“I don’t need help.” 

“Y/N, he’s living across the hall from you. You need help but you’re to stubborn to ask... or maybe to even see.” 

“I can find someone else to help me.” 

“Like who?” 

“Bethany.” 

“Whose Bethany?” 

“She’s a very lovely lady from downstairs.”

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t trust Bethany.” 

You scoff. “Who cares if you don’t. I do.” Chris stares at you without any doubt that he’ll give up. “What is your deal? God, one second you are begging to leave and the next you are begging to stay in my life. Are you unable to make a decision?” 

“I’m not letting you stay there alone.” 

“On and let me guess. You’re going to what? Camp out in my bedroom then start a fight when the postman needs a signature on a package?” You toss your hands up in the air turning to walk away again. 

“Y/N... please.” 

“Goodbye Christopher.” Your walking as fast as you can without drawing anymore attention to yourself but just as luck would have it, you trip. Your foot hitting a crack in the cement just perfectly causing you to plummet to the ground at full force. You feel Chris hands on your back just after the impact with the ground and then a sharp shooting pain in your right foot. “Fuck!” You say gritting your teeth. 

“Y/N..” Chris says in a concerned voice. 

“This never would have happened” You start to say as you try to stand up while Chris tries to help. His hands are underneath your arms slowly lifting you. “if you had just left me alone.”

“You’re blaming me for this?” He asks shocked. 

When you’re finally standing upright, you try to put just the smallest amount of pressure onto your foot when the pain suddenly worsens causing a small gasp. “If i didn’t have to worry about you, I wouldn’t have got hurt.” 

“You’re pathetic.” He says looking down at you. He wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you into his chest. 

“I don’t need your help.” You say in an annoyed voice. 

“Oh, you’re just gonna limp the next block and up the stairs?” He says with a smile. 

“Yes, i just might.” You say smiling, Chris shakes his head and steps away, letting you go. 

“Okay, go ahead.” You stand balancing on one leg and try to take a step, groaning in pain as you set your right foot down to walk. Your voice is full of pain as you speak, “See, perfectly fine.” You grit your teeth with the next step you take. 

“Are you done?” He asks from behind you. 

“I’m fine, go away.” You feel his hands on you once again, one wrapping around your waist and the other grabbing your arm to wrap around his neck. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself again.” He argues pulling you into him. 

“At least it’ll be on my terms.” 

“Why are you so stubborn?” He asks

“Why are you?” Chris nods once again and slowly starts walking alongside you. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself together. “Alright.” He says stopping.

“What are you doing?” 

Chris grabs your purse, pulling it into your chest and quickly lifts you up, carrying you bridal style. “There.”

 “Put me down.” 

“Admit that i didn’t make you trip.” 

“You did.”

 “Then no.” 

“Oh, so you’re going to what carrry me as punishment?” 

“At least until we get a cab.” 

“A cab? We’re a block away from my place.” 

“But nearly fifteen from mine.” 

“Yours? No.” 

“You can’t walk, you don’t get a choice.” 

“You’re kidnapping me.” 

“If I explain to any cab driver what happened at your place, that goes right out the window.” Chris smiles with a sense of accomplishment on his face. He’s won and he knows it. You’re in pain far to much pain to try to walk yourself. You don’t even care anymore, you rest your head on his shoulder glumly. You don’t dare admit to him that you’ve given in, instead you ignore him, avoid eye contact with him at all time. Once your in the cab you continue your arrogance, refusing to acknowledge his existence. 

You sit as close to the window as you can throughout the ride, listening to the street sounds and trying to find a way out of this situation. When you arrive at Chris place you stare at him like an angry child, staying put until he physically pulls you out of the cab and tosses you over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” You shout

“Oh stop it.” To any passing eye it looks like two lovers whom can’t wait to get into their humble abode. 

“You’re going to drop me.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“You’re like a toothpick to me.” 

“An over sized one.” You whisper. Inside of Chris’ place, you feel a sense of awkward air start to creep in as he places you o his bed and leaves the room immediately. You stare at the doorway confused, with your hands slightly raised. “Where are you going?”

He returns a few minutes later with a bag of ice in his hand “Getting you some ice...” He then reaches into his pocket “and some pills.” 

You silently watch as he opens the medicine bottle and fishes out two pills. “You have dried blood on your lip.” You finally say breaking the silence. He stops and his eyes lift to meet yours. Almost immediately, your eyes are drawn to his, you’re caught in the sea that is his eyes. It’s a moment that’s indescribable, this man that can make you so frustrated at times, still somehow manages to have a place in your heart. With a deep breathe you pull your eyes away starring at the wall. 

“I’m sorry.” You hear him say in a soft voice. It could be the stubborn side of you or the fact that you’re still angry with him that doesn’t allow you to answer. “for this morning...” he adds with a small sigh. “I just saw him and got so mad.”

“That’s all you do.” you scoff. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod before he gently places the bag of ice onto your foot. “It’s you.” 

This is when you finally turn to look at him with anger. “Excuse me?” 

“No... no. I mean...” He steps closer to you almost leaning on the bed. “It’s not like that. I mean, you’re different. There’s something different about you.” Your expression doesn’t change but the urgency in Chris’ voice does. “I don’t know what it is about you but I can’t let go.” 

You turn away again, feeling tears starting to form in your eyes. Chris nods, leaving the pills on the side table near an unopened water bottle, he leaves the room shortly after and you hear the sound of a television start in the living room behind the closed door. You lay on the bed, inhaling the scent of Chris’ cologne that’s stained the sheets and slowly begin to drift to sleep.