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astroboots · 1 year

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Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

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You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer.

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire.

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood".

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time.

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book.

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait.

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies.

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman.

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter.

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it.

This note didn’t work.

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry…

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you!

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook.

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot.

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you.

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note.

It doesn’t look like he came.

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen.

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video!

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews.

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had.

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression.

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around.

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go.

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly.

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through.

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow.

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill.

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now.

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek?

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why.

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen.

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness.

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it.

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast.

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth.

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do.

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail.

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest.

You want to see him again.

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people.

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail.

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by.

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

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picturejasper20 · 7 months

Text

I want to talk about Vlad Masters characterization in the game "Nickelodeon All Star Brawl 2" story mode.

So, Vlad is the main antagonist of this game, or at least that's what the game makes you want to think at the start until the weird time loops start happening and Plasmius keeps repeating things like "Mind controlling everyone is the way to save everyone" and "Don't you understand?!", which comes off as weird to the hero character.

The last time you beat him, Clockwork transports him into the same void "safe space" other characters are in. You can go and ask Vlad what he was talking about and he will answer how there is a bigger enemy at moment: Clockwork.

It is later revealed that Clockwork got infected by Vlad's mind control device, which in reality doesn't work as it should and makes people acts volatile and agressive instead. The "evil" Clockwork has been sending the hero protagonist to stop Plasmius from fixing his mind control machine and make the universe destroy on purpose again and again. Vlas has been trapped in these time loops like that player has been and he remembers what happened each time, forced to see the same event repeat all over again

Meaning that all this time the hero protagonist has been the "bad guy" while Vlad was trying to fix the mind control machine to prevent the universe from getting destroyed. Vlad even mentions this near the end of the game, calling himself "the hero of the story"

Of course, that's incorrect because Vlad was trying to freaking brainwash everyone. But it is interesting is how he is potrayed as sympathetic to some extent as he was trying to do the "right thing". He talks to the hero protagonist about how Clockwork isn't himself and he shouldn't be trusted.

This characterization reminds quite a lot from the one that he has in "A Glitch in Time" graphic novel. In the novel he helps Danny with searching for the source of ghost power and defeating Dan. He realizes the wrong of his selfish past actions and starts a path to redemption near the end of the story.

Considering that Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl 2 involves time travel and time loops like A Glitch in Time, it wouldn't be out of place to say that Vlad's characterization in the game is intentional, probably being written with the goal to be close to his character version in A Glitch In Time.

While Vlad doesn't exactly regret his actions at the end of the game, the idea of him not being as evil as he looks/ having standars is still there. There has been certain change of how his character gets potrayed lately. To someone more sympathetic, less emphasis on "evil" and more "he doesn't understand what he is himself getting into" vibes.

It also suprised me how he was chosen to be one of the main antagonists for this game and one of the characters that has the most lines in the story mode. It makes you wonder why they didn't make a Danny Phantom game instead since all the plot revolves around Danny Phantom characters.

On smaller observation, despite Vlad's motivations being "taking control over the universe" there are some lines of dialogue that hint as his own loneliness such as saying the game player that "they would make a good sidekick" and regreting "not having an audience" to see how he activates the mind control machine. In part it is understandable this doesn't get expanded upon since there are likely people who play the game that don't know about Danny Phantom.

I don't know who was behind writing the dialogue from this game but one thing i can say is that they seem to get Vlad's character in a good part, specially how he doesn't seem himself as a villain in certain moments.

All this emphasis in Vlad from AGIT graphic novel and the Nick fighting game makes wonder if he is going to have some important role in possible future stories from the series. It seems to me that it is trying to build up to something to be more than just pure coincidence. If he does gain more protagonism on long run, i hope they continue with this potrayal of his character because i find it pretty interesting.

#danny phantom #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #dp a glitch in time #his dialogue in the game was cool #Like not exactly evil but not good neither #As doing a bad thing to avoid a bigger bad thing from happening

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alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

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bad decisions - jjk | ten

When his story pops up—a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus—you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. It's a simple message—Hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later. JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure? You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie. You: Just wondering how the kids are. Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days. JustJK: Missing their mother.

Bad Decision #10 - Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it's within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna; blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

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You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does.

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days—to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts—then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices.

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head—again—overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night—three days since Seokjin's last message—she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now.

You shrug as you let the ruby-red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling.

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do.

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two. Long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not, but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it.

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend.

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules.

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in.

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes.

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now.

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon.

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror.

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return.

After all, if you can't go back?

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare.

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there.

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary.

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots.

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process.

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jungkook, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction.

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror—lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jungkook's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jungkook, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead.

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you.

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening.

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does.

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him.

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now.

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit—and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet.

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real.

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin.

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool.

It's a simple message—hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are <3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK: Missing their mother.

JustJK: Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK: Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom.

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks <;/3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK: You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK: Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You: You've got full custody!!!

JustJK: And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK: smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'.

You: They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You: Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK: I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party—you coming?

You: Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says.

It's actually quite quiet at the club—Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jungkook's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again.

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jungkook's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jungkook reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that—after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jungkook's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this.

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jungkook trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs, and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK: Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK: I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jungkook doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered.

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jungkook groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines.

"Don't fuck this up, Jungkook."

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benkyoutobentou · 4 months

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31 Days of Productivity Reading: Day One

Before: I’ve been looking forward to this day, March first, specifically for this little reading challenge! I’ve been “saving” my books to read, which is at once a habit that I do often when something like this comes up and something I know I should kick the habit of. It’s not like I’ll run out of things to read. Ever. But to start out, let’s do a quick rehash of my goals for the month (don’t worry, this’ll be the only time I do this):

Finish No. 6 volume 3

Read 憎らしい彼

Read another novel (today I’m leaning towards 独り舞. Tomorrow? Who knows)

Read at least ten volumes of manga

Read at least an hour per day

[I'm putting the rest under a read more because it ended up being unusually long. ごめんね！]

For today’s plans, I’m going to walk to the library and get a bit of studying done. I’m in a huge Mandarin study mood and I think the long walk will be good for me, both mentally and physically. I’ll also probably read a bit at the library after I’ve finished studying. I’m starting off the month with No. 6 and if I still have some left over reading energy at the end of the day, I’ll probably read ウツボラ (下). I read the first volume a super long time ago, and as much as I adore the manga of 中村明日美子 this one was way above my level when I tried it last. I usually find her manga to be on the more difficult side, but I also always find that the stories are worth the effort.

I’ve seen some people on YouTube time themselves reading when they do reading challenges, so I’ll probably try that out, even if I doubt that I’ll actually do it for the whole month… It would also be interesting to have a more accurate idea of my reading speed in Japanese, and to be able to see if that changes over the course of the month.

After: In a series of unfortunate events, I didn’t end up reading at all at the library because I probably spent thirty minutes looking for my hold book and still couldn’t find it (they filed my name wrong, the paper slipped to where you couldn’t see the name on it, and the spine of the book is a completely different color than the cover). And since I walked, I didn’t want to walk home in the dark.

Mildly related notes- I can’t go anywhere without my dog begging for a walk, so I had to take her out before I could walk to the library myself. I also found it mildly amusing that the chapter I started at the library was library themed.

One hour update: My reading pace is (so far), pretty much exactly where I thought it was, which is about five minutes per page, give or take. Luckily, I've honed in to my reading weakness. Unfortunately, it's a big category. Vocabulary. Vocabulary is my weak point in studying and I go through phases in which I study a ton of flashcards or none at all. I know that I need to get back on my JPDB game, but. Ough. I'm just glad that I usually don't find any issues with grammar, and my reading speed when I know the words really isn't all that bad (as far as I'm concerned).

Final report: For the day, I've read about two hours and ten minutes give or take (I accidentally reset the timer eight minutes in) and nearly finished the chapter I was on of No. 6, completing about thirty ages in that time. I didn't get to reading any manga today, but that's fine. I would like to finish the chapter before I go to bed since I only have ten pages left, but that's still another hour of reading (hopefully less, since most of it seems to be dialogue) and it's getting late, hence why I'm updating now and not when I actually stop reading for the day. Night owl problems. Finishing the chapter would also put me at nearly halfway through the book. God I love short books! As usual, this series is wonderful and I always have a great time whenever I pick it up.

#benkyou posting #30 days of productivity #langblr #studyblr #language learning #studying #polyglot #booklr #study blog #check my slatch tote #homemade tote bag for an obscure series check

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tada-no-honzuki · 2 years

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Ascendance of a Bookworm (24) Part 5 Volume 3 Chapter 15

This translation is not supposed to replace the official releases of the light novel series. Please purchase the official light novel when it becomes available!

Discussion with Eglantine

"I am sorry for calling you out here on such short notice."

Once we had finished our obligatory greetings, Eglantine offered me a seat on the sofa. When Oswin immediately started to prepare a sound-blocking barrier, Karstedt gave me a worried look, before taking a few steps back. As did Rihyarda.

Eglantine had already cleared the room and sat down on the sofa opposite me. She looked straight at me. It seemed that Anastasius was attending the graduation ceremony, and I would be speaking with her.

"Lady Rozemyne, we don't have much time,” she said. “So, please allow me to be straight with you."

“Of course,” I nodded. I would be grateful if she were direct with me, because I couldn't exactly say I was any good at interpreting noble euphemisms. It would only inconvenience everyone if I misinterpreted her because she beat around the bush.

When the High Bishop and High Priest of the Sovereign Temple had informed the Royal Family during lunch that the magic circle was used to select the next Zent, they had caused quite an uproar. It seemed that Trauerqual's oldest retainers, who had watched him struggle all this time and believed he deserved to have Grutrissheit, were feeling quite uneasy hearing that Detlinde might be the next Zent. Especially in light of today's events. On top of that, some people were claiming it was all orchestrated by Ferdinand. Because he could no longer manipulate me, he was now controlling Detlinde's actions.

"Opinions are divided, but Lord Trauerqual maintains that Grutrissheit is essential to rule over Yurgensmidt, and should Lady Detlinde truly have Grutrissheit, he intends to surrender the throne without a fight," Eglantine explained.

"I wonder, why would he willingly surrender the throne to Lady Detlinde, but did he send Lord Ferdinand to Ahrensbach when suspicion fell on him?"

I didn't understand why he unjustly accused Ferdinand and drove him to Ahrensbach, when he was clearly willing to give up his throne to someone who owned Grutrissheit. In that case, he surely could have waited for Ferdinand to find Grutrissheit and surrender the throne to him, right?

"I can only explain it as… the difference between their home duchies,” Eglantine said. “Ehrenfest's services to the crown have been recognized and after the next Archduke Conference, you will be treated the same as any duchy that sided with Lord Trauerqual during the civil war. However, it does not change that Ehrenfest was a neutral duchy at the time. If an Archduke Candidate from Ahrensbach, a greater duchy that supported the current king during the civil war, obtains Grutrissheit, the response from the other duchies will be completely different.”

It was impossible to say how many duchies would side with Ferdinand, were he to obtain Grutrissheit and become Zent. It seemed that if one considered Ehrenfest's ranking, population size, and manner of socializing, he was unfit for the job. His support base was too small. Eglantine also mentioned that someone would likely try to steal Grutrissheit from Ferdinand, throwing Yurgensmidt into chaos once more.

"The civil war began because the First Prince was dissatisfied that the Second Prince had inherited Grutrissheit and attacked him to steal it from him." Eglantine continued her explanation.

However, after killing the Second Prince, the First Prince failed to acquire Grutrissheit. He then suspected that his brother, the Third Prince, had it, and started a war.

“The Royal Family lost many of its members and loved ones in all the fighting,” Eglantine said. “That's why we would like to avoid any more disputes if possible. Should Lady Detlinde acquire Grutrissheit, then, that certainly brings its own difficulties. However, Lord Trauerqual seems to think that everything shall work out if she has Lord Ferdinand, who is knowledgeable in various areas, supporting her as her husband.”

…stop that thought immediately! You will kill Lord Ferdinand!

"However, we don't know if the Sovereign Temple is correct. So, we need to learn more about that magic circle as soon as possible. ......Lady Rozemyne, tell me, is the Sovereign Temple speaking the truth?"

Eglantine's orange eyes were locked on me, ready to see through any lies or trickery. I answered her anxious gaze with a polite smile.

"I am sorry, Lady Eglantine, the Dedication Whirl as a ritual is only performed at the Royal Academy, not in Ehrenfest."

"......so, you do not know either, I see."

Eglantine sighed regretfully. It pained my heart that I could not tell her everything I knew. However, I hadn't lied to her. Considering the wording of the scripture, "Ye who wish to be Zent, read on", one might assume the magic circle was somehow related to it. However, I didn't know the details, and I hadn't investigated it, so I could not say anything with absolute certainty.

"However, there are many documents on various rituals in the underground archive of the Royal Academy’s Library,” I said. “Lord Ferdinand has read them all, so he may know something.”

The words had barely passed my lips when Oswin announced, “Lord Ferdinand has arrived." We briefly suspended our conversation, so Eglantine could step outside the sound-blocking barrier to greet him. With the formalities taken care of, Ferdinand entered the sound-blocking barrier.

Justus and Eckhart, who had accompanied him, stood beside Karstedt, who was guarding me on this occasion. Karstedt and Eckhart, Rihyarda and Justus. Two sets of parent and child.

…let the sneaky exchange of information begin! I know for a fact that Sylvester gave Karstedt some small, folded piece of paper, and I’m sure Rihyarda also prepared something.

As these thoughts passed through my mind, Ferdinand looked down at me with a face that grumbled, "What are you doing here?"

"Lord Ferdinand, may I ask you to sit down next to Lady Rozemyne?" Eglantine said.

"Excuse me."

"How is Lady Detlinde? Had she been feeling ill prior to the ceremony?"

"No. It would appear she fell unconscious because the Dedication Whirl depleted her mana.” Ferdinand answered. “I already gave her a rejuvenation potion, so she will recover in time. I sincerely apologize for the disturbance caused by Ahrensbach's Archduke Candidate on this important day."

The eccentric hairdo, the sparkly dedication whirl, collapsing and falling unconscious, activating an unknown magic circle. ..... Ferdinand apologized for all the shocking events of the day.

“I tried to stop her, but she would not listen to me. Please forgive my inadequacy."

While expressing his regret, Ferdinand pulled out the recording tool he had taken only this morning and started to play the recording. We heard how Ferdinand warned her that wearing all five hairpins would be disrespectful to the Royal Family. To which Detlinde sourly replied, "So I just need to reduce the number of hairpins, right?"

“Of course, I never imagined that agreeing to reduce the hairpins meant she would add other hair accessories." Ferdinand sighed.

As I reflexively muttered, "You certainly had a rough morning, Lord Ferdinand," Eglantine gave a wry smile.

"Something bigger than any of Lady Detlinde's shenanigans has happened,” she said. “So, let us not dwell on it. You may rest assured."

As she said those words, Ferdinand seemed to relax a little, then gave a frown.

"Since I received a royal summons right after Lady Detlinde made a fool of herself, I assumed I was being called to account. ......was it just an excuse to discuss something concerning Rozemyne?"

"No, the matter most certainly concerns Lady Detlinde.” Eglantine assured him. “During lunch, a certain declaration of the Sovereign Temple left us in a state of confusion, so we are currently trying to gather as much information as possible. I heard from Aub Ehrenfest and Lady Rozemyne that you are well-acquainted with the Temple's rituals, Lord Ferdinand."

As Eglantine smiled apologetically, Ferdinand for some reason glared at me. The question, "What exactly did you say to get me involved?" was written on his face.

"I only told her you were well informed, Lord Ferdinand,” I said. “That's true, right?"

"......may I ask you to tell me what happened?”

As Ferdinand sighed in resignation, Eglantine and I told him what had transpired, including the declaration of the Sovereign Temple.

"So, are you familiar with the magic circle that appeared on the stage during the Dedication Whirl, Lord Ferdinand?" Eglantine asked.

Ferdinand nodded slowly, "I do," then stopped. He refused to say another word, causing Eglantine to probe further.

"The Sovereign Temple says it is used to select the next Zent..."

“I must say I am surprised that the Sovereign Temple knows that much,” Ferdinand said, clearly surprised. “Considering they can't even read their whole Bible.”

At last year's Bible investigation, it had become clear the priests of the Sovereign Temple were able to read less than half of the Bible. Therefore, I thought it highly unlikely they could see the floating circle on the first page of the book. Still, they had been able to identify a magic circle that had only appeared for a moment. Even I was impressed with their knowledge.

“In Ehrenfest's temple, there are wooden reference boards and old copies of the Bible, that the gray priests use to prepare for the ceremonies,” I said. “It's possible the Sovereign Temple also has a book room with documents that can be read by anyone, even those without mana."

As I fondly thought about the book room of the Sovereign Temple, which I had never entered before, Ferdinand glared, "I am not saying you are wrong, but shut up!" As I quickly closed my mouth, Eglantine gave a wry smile, then frowned.

"So, you are saying the Sovereign Temple is speaking the truth and that magic circle is definitely for selecting the next Zent?"

“I cannot say they are absolutely wrong,” Ferdinand replied. “But why are you asking us this?"

In response, Eglantine placed a hand on her cheek and said, “This is kind of embarrassing, but there is no one in the Royal Family who is familiar with the Temple's affairs.”

Since a gap had formed between the Temple and the Royal Family, they didn't have the knowledge to refute the Sovereign Temple's claim.

“By performing the dedication ritual at the Royal Academy, Lady Rozemyne has earned the trust of the Royal Family as a High Bishop capable of performing authentic temple rituals,” Eglantine explained. “That's why we decided to consult her on the matter......"

“That's not what I meant,” Ferdinand grumbled. “I am fairly sure I communicated this through Rozemyne, but... there are records in the underground archive of the Royal Academy’s Library that contain necessary knowledge for all Royals and Archduke Candidates. Knowing this, why does the Royal Family still lack this knowledge?......did you not inform them of this?”

As Ferdinand send a piercing glare my way, I quickly shook my head.

"I told them,” I assured him. “I even went to the underground archive with the princes and helped them make contemporary translations of the records.”

"......did I not forbid you from entering that archive?"

I had planned to keep it a secret, but now I had stupidly exposed myself. In a panic, I explained, "B-But it was a royal order! I could not refuse!” Whatever I had done had been beyond my control.

"We requested Lady Rozemyne, who is proficient in the archaic language, to help us understand the texts.” Eglantine intervened. “Please do not scold her."

"Rozemyne has an all-consuming passion for books,” Ferdinand said. “Since only the Royal Family and some Archduke Candidates can enter that archive, it is impossible to say whom she may disrespect once she goes inside. It would be best for everyone if she did not enter."

Considering I had given Sigiswald nothing but half-hearted replies, and got myself dragged out by Anastasius, I could not object.

"But Prince Sigiswald and Prince Anastasius can barely understand the old texts.” I protested. “So, what was I to do? It is already decided that Lady Hannelore and I will be helping them out during the Archduke Conference as well.”

When I explained that the princes had a tough time reading the archaic language, Ferdinand scowled.

"So, you have taken charge......?” Ferdinand sighed. “Then, they will have a long way to go."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"You always start from the top left, then work your way down, right? Be it the book room of the Temple, Karstedt's estate, the Castle, or my estate, you always do. If I remember correctly, the materials covering that magic circle are on the lowest shelf, so it will be a while until you get there."

…he is right! I always start reading from the top left corner, then work my way down the rows to make sure I do not miss anything. How on earth did he figure that out!?

"Anyway, that archive is packed with the necessary knowledge for the next Zent. If you cannot rely on the Temple, you must start by reading what is available in the archive. If you truly believe it necessary, you must learn to read the archaic language."

"......we don't have time for that." Eglantine protested.

I remembered how pale the King had looked when he was living on a diet of rejuvenation potions, just as Ferdinand was right now. It would certainly be difficult for him to find the time to study.

“Rozemyne learned to read the old language in a season or two by poring over the bible on a daily basis, while simultaneously memorizing the prayers necessary for the temple's ceremonies, and struggling to reorganize the orphanage,” Ferdinand objected. “Busy as you may be, you can familiarize yourselves with the old language by reading in your beds, just like Rozemyne."

Eglantine looked at me like I was crazy. Certainly, when I was learning the prayers as an Apprentice Blue Shrine Maiden, I felt like I was staring at wooden boards every day. It seemed such a long time ago that I had been complaining about the long names of the gods.

“Since it seems there truly is no time today, I will tell you what you need to know, but only this once.” Ferdinand conceded. “However, if you cannot read the materials that you need yourselves, you cannot tell how the information you are given may be incorrect. I believe it is a necessary skill for the Zent to be able to read the old language. The Grutrissheit that was bestowed onto us by the Goddess of Wisdom Mestionora is probably far older than the Bible that the High Bishop holds."

As Ferdinand made his point, Eglantine looked up with a start. Now that he mentioned it, he was probably right. The Grutrissheit that was bestowed onto the King by the Goddess of Wisdom was most definitely much older than the Bible, which described the method to become King.

"The magic circle in question is used to select the Zent Candidates,” Ferdinand explained. “However, it is wrong to say that Lady Detlinde is closest to becoming the next Zent."

I only knew it emerged from the Bible, so I listened intently to his explanation as well.

"All that magic circle does is measure whether a Royal or an Archduke Candidate has enough mana to become the Zent."

Apparently, the magic circle could be made to appear by offering mana through the Dedication Whirl or a prayer to the gods. Only those who had all the attributes, and enough mana would be able to erect a pillar of light.

"Only those who have been able to erect the pillar of light can move on to the next step,” Ferdinand continued. “Since Lady Detlinde was unable to properly activate the magic circle, she does not have the qualifications to become Zent."

"However, neither I nor Lord Anastasius activated the magic circle......"

Eglantine anxiously looked at Ferdinand. If Detlinde had been able to do something that the Royal Family could not, the Sovereign Temple's claim that "Lady Detlinde is closest to becoming the next Zent," would in fact be correct.

“It's essential that you pray to the gods and offer your mana during the Dedication Whirl to erect the pillar. Lady Detlinde danced while releasing her mana to make feystones glow. No one has ever done either of those, so the magic circle just never emerged."

Ferdinand basically said it was pure chance that Detlinde had been able to make the magic circle glow.

"You can verify it yourself with the other Royals,” Ferdinand suggested. “Fortunately, Ehrenfest and Dunkelfelger's joint research also revealed the way how to increase one's attributes. So, why don't you go ahead and try to activate the magic circle, while simultaneously offering prayers and mana to the gods, and redoing the Invocation ritual?"

Eglantine muttered, "Offering mana while dancing?" in response while glancing at me. “Then, may I ask you to help us? I heard that you gave blessings during Whirl practice, Lady Rozemyne?"

Ferdinand immediately refused Eglantine's request. "We don't need any more suspicion drawn to us than we already have. When you are used to praying, and overflowing with mana like Rozemyne, you will be able to trigger the magic circle quicker than Detlinde did. However, that alone is not enough to decide on the next Zent. You would merely be a Zent Candidate. The important thing comes next......"

Eglantine softly muttered, "What is next?" But Ferdinand ignored her question and instead focused on what would happen should I make the magic circle emerge.

“I assume the Royal Family is well aware that even if Rozemyne assumed the position of Zent, Ehrenfest would not be able to adequately support her. Not to mention, if we conduct a large-scale verification of the Dedication Whirl, Zent Candidates would spring up like mushrooms from all Duchies. It would only become a source of unnecessary discord. The Royal Family will have to perform the verification of the Dedication Whirl themselves."

Eglantine's eyes darted around the room as Ferdinand flatly refused her, like she was searching for the right words. Then she hesitantly opened her mouth.

“Lord Ferdinand, what do you think of the people who claim you are planning to become the next Zent and are looking for Grutrissheit by manipulating Lady Detlinde and Lady Rozemyne?”

"It is suspicious that the very year I moved to Ahrensbach, Lady Detlinde made an unknown magic circle appear,” Ferdinand replied without batting an eye. “I am sure the Knights Commander has told you that much."

His nonchalance irritated me. There was no way he did not feel the slightest bit irritated his loyalty was still being questioned even after he obediently went to Ahrensbach, despite his misgivings.

"I frankly think the Zent is surrounded by people who say the most ludicrous things,” I said. “Although he already refused Aub Ahrensbach's request, Lord Ferdinand ultimately went to Ahrensbach at the King's order, did he not?"

When I expressed my honest feelings, Eglantine's eyes widened in shock. I think I made the right call when I decided to swallow, "It seems you all conveniently forgot about that."

"Rozemyne, I believe I told you to shut up." Ferdinand glared at me with narrowed eyes. However, I refused to shut up.

"We cannot convey our information and thoughts to the Royal Family if we remain silent. It is much simpler to tell them everything, instead of putting on a calm facade, while fostering anger and hatred. Did you not teach me yourself, Lord Ferdinand, that it is important to hear all sides of an issue?" I said, sternly returning his glare.

Ferdinand sighed, bidding me once again to shut up, "Yes, but you are being disrespectful to the Royal Family."

"You accepted the King's order exactly to avoid this kind of suspicion, did you not? Knowing that you might end up breaking the final promise you made to your father because of it! If after all that, you still have not earned their trust, then whatever did you accept the King's order for!?"

Ferdinand momentarily shut his mouth, as if he were stuck for an answer, then said, "Rozemyne, that's enough. It is fine......" in another attempt to stop me.

"No, it's not fine.” I objected. “People cannot act on the information they do not have. Sometimes it is important to express one's thoughts and feelings without holding back. Don't you agree, Lady Eglantine?"

Eglantine nodded with a smile, "Yes, it is very important. Now, please explain your circumstances, Lord Ferdinand. It might not be worth much, but I may be able to help you."

"I don't know what evidence the Royal Family and the Commander of the Knights Order have to doubt Lord Ferdinand's intentions,” I said. “But please believe me when I say all he is interested in is research, and all he wants is research time and his own workshop. There is no need to doubt him. It is a waste of your time. He even told me, that, if possible, he wants to hole up in his workshop and immerse himself into his research day and night."

Eglantine giggled when I insisted that he was happiest when holed up in his temple workshop.

"Lord Ferdinand, is Lady Rozemyne speaking the truth?" Eglantine asked, fixing her eyes on him.

After pinching my cheek and grumbling, "You did not need to tell her that," he sighed in resignation. "I will leave it to your discretion whether you believe me or not, but I have no intention to become the Zent"

Even if Eglantine believed him, it was impossible to say whether the other Royals would. However, his situation could change greatly if at least someone in the Royal Family understood him a little.

“But you are knowledgeable about many rituals. You say that you never considered taking Grutrissheit for yourself, Lord Ferdinand?” Eglantine asked, perfectly serious. Ferdinand wore a painfully bitter smile.

“I do not intend to ever lay my hands on Grutrissheit. I do not wish to become Zent and live for the sake of Yurgensmidt."

"Yes, yes. I totally understand.” I agreed. “If you become the Zent, you would be too busy with paperwork to do any research, right? I wouldn't want to lose any of my reading time either."

Although I completely agreed with Ferdinand’s mentality, he grumbled, "Don't lump me in with the likes of you," wearing a deeply displeased look.

"Huh? Is there another reason?" I asked.

"There is, but it does not matter."

…if it doesn't matter, that means it is nothing major, right?

Eglantine, looking between Ferdinand and me, said, "Then, I have one more question for Lady Rozemyne. Aub Klassenburg told me you refused his offer to do joint research and perform the dedication ritual again......"

"Yes. It's too heavy a burden for Ehrenfest."

I went on to explain that we had had to finish our own dedication ritual posthaste to transport the Divine Tools to the Royal Academy in time, that the High Priest had only been allowed to visit on the day of, which had put a great burden on him, that preparing enough rejuvenation potions had been difficult, and that it was very likely I had to return to Ehrenfest next year to perform the duchy's Dedication ritual.

“I wonder, what role would Klassenburg take in this joint research?” I asked.

“It seems the Aub wanted to discuss that with you,” Eglantine replied. “He was taken rather aback you cut off the negotiations before they even started."

"However, you cannot order another duchy's temple to lend you their Divine Tools, because you want to hold a dedication ritual at the Royal Academy,” I said. “It would affect next year's harvest. Also, as I explained during the dedication ritual, I am not the one who originally concocted that rejuvenation potion."

Eglantine's eyes immediately turned to look at Ferdinand. It seemed she already had an idea of who did. However, he ignored her stare. After the Starbind Ceremony next year, Ferdinand would officially join Ahrensbach. He probably felt he had nothing to do with the joint research of Klassenburg and Ehrenfest.

Besides, rather than publishing the recipe through our joint research with Klassenburg, he'd better save it as a trump card for a rainy day. If you asked me, he could never have enough trump cards to clean up Detlinde's messes and avoid being implicated.

“Of course, I agree with Klassenburg's desire to offer mana to the Royal Family,” I stated. “However, is it truly research that should be left to the students of the Royal Academy? I believe it will be hard to make it an annual event, unless we can borrow the Divine Tools and some priests from the Sovereign Temple, Klassenburg provides the rejuvenation potions for the participants using a recipe of their own, and all Ehrenfest's High Priest needs to do is lead the proceedings."

I thought I successfully concealed the fact I did not want to lose any of my precious reading time preparing and cleaning up joint research that had no other purpose than providing the Royal Family with mana. As I congratulated myself for a job well done, Ferdinand softly tapped his temple, looking at me like I was some incompetent child.

…huh? Did I mess up after all?

"I understand what you are saying, Lady Rozemyne.” Eglantine agreed. “I see there are many circumstances that make it challenging to perform the ritual each year. I shall relay your answer to the Royal Family and Aub Klassenburg."

In the end, our conversation concluded before the Graduation Ceremony ended. Although Anastasius had only summoned me, Eglantine had invited Ferdinand at her own discretion. It came to my ears that Anastasius had shown his understanding for her decision considering the urgency of the matter, but his jealousy still had been giving her a bit of trouble.

…it seems Prince Anastasius still acts like Ewigeliebe.

#Translation #P5V3

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nemeseos-noctua · 3 years

Note

Here's the other: How'd they react to their S/O who cherishes their gift given by their beloved so much, that one day the gift was destroyed by a hilichurl and they went so livid they practically fought the creatures to death and threw them to a lake somewhere, and sulked the whole how they don't deserve them anymore cuz of how careless they were. For Razor, Albedo and Xiao 👉👈

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: razor, albedo, xiao (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, mc is referenced as an alchemist/adventurer in albedo’s, one swear word in xiao’s

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: im EMBARRASSED at how long this is and how MEANINGLESS THE WRITING IS IM SO SORRY

he made you a paw-shaped clay sculpture!

it was cute and small, fitting right into the palm of your hands

to others—it may look like some worn-down toy, but to you, it was a good luck charm from the ever-cute razor

but perhaps, it wasn’t quite the clay-shape that you held close to your heart... no, it was the strenuous effort razor put into sculpting the paw

you remember it vividly. how the boy would dig his hands into mud and sit under the burning sun, carving the dirt with his bare fingers as he hid the gift from your sight

so when a good-for-nothing hilichurl decides razor’s paw-shape charm was a nice pebble for hot potato... boy were you livid

Patting the ground beside you, [e/c] eyes widened upon the feeling of nothing but grass.

What...? Peering over, you stared blankly at the empty space, comical arrows pointing at the now-gone charm you had received from Razor. Just where was it? You swore it was right beside you...

And as if Barbatos were laughing at you, the wind blew, burning your eyes as the sight of mitachurls and hilichurls danced around the fire in the distance, tossing what looked like a rock into the air.

Ah.

You blinked.

That was the charm Razor made.

first of all... how did the hilichurl get it? the charm was literally right beside you!

agh, whatever.

you’ll just retrieve it. easy, right?

no.

first of all, your power would literally turn the lush grass into a desolate canyon (not really). second of all, you’d probably end up destroying the paw in your rampage

hah...

—if the hilichurl didn’t destroy it first

Materializing your weapon, you couldn’t help but hope that the paw had miraculously survived the impact of a hilichurl throwing it against the floor.

Hah, what were you thinking? Of course it didn’t... physics just didn’t allow it.

But you know what physics did allow? Why, beating these enemies to a pulp, of course!

once you floored the hilichurls, you quickly scrambled as to look for signs of the paw anywhere

berating yourself as to how utterly foolish you were for letting it go and leaving it unguarded in the first place, you stared in defeat at the sight of crumbled clay and hardened dirt in the grass of the hilichurl camp

why? why were you so careless? seriously, how did this happen? if you had just kept it in your backpack like a regular person, razor’s hard-earned hours and craft would still be as grand as ever-

“[y/n]?”

Blinking, you hadn’t realized you had been sulking in the midst of this hilichurl camp. [E/C] eyes lifted up, widening once they had landed on none other than Razor, his crimson eyes like the agates that littered Dragonspine, his hair as grey as stormclouds.

“Ah... Razor...” You smiled in exasperation, staring at anywhere but said boy. How could you face him after watching his clay paw get destroyed by some measly hilichurls?

“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing around at the scene before him. The grass wilted, the camp that he remembered being obnoxiously loud and disturbing was silent and empty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Waving off his concern, you began to walk away, your heart sinking with each step.

First, you let his gift get destroyed. Second, you walk away from him.

You were such a terrible partn—

“[Y/N]?” Razor’s voice cut through the air, a tension you had created solely on the thoughts of your own mind. Gripping your wrist with a tender touch, you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes drooped down ever so slightly.

“Did I... make lupical mad?”

Gulping, you quickly waved your hands in front of your face, eyes widened as you tried to carefully explain the series of events that had just led down to this very moment.

“I—well, you see, your uh, paw-clay-thingy... I was careless and I—“

“Break it while hunting?” Razor answered, tilting his head as his hold merely stayed still, not wavering for a second, as if you were a boar in his hands.

“Ah...”

Razor was much better at observation than you had thought.

“It’s okay. I make more for lupical,” Razor nodded, already beginning to pace over to a pond as he dipped his gloved hands into the water, wafting around for dirt as you rushed up behind him.

“Wait! But I was careless... you don’t need to make ano—“

“It’s for lupical. Lupical close, I give lupical gift that never break.”

Everlasting—that was what he wanted to make.

And a part of you couldn’t help but agree.

albedo, in all of his alchemy prowess, made you an artificial flower

how? don’t ask him. he’ll spew some lengthy thesis and paragraph about the fundamentals, the research, the prototype, the testing, the—

ahem, anyways!

you had never intended to bring it outside. but one day, you had left your camp under the supervision of barbatos (wow go barbatos) and ventured off to fetch some materials

and when you came back? you were met with the sight of hilichurls and slimes raving around your tent

what the—

“I...I’m hallucinating,” You deadpanned, slapping your wrist at the sight of pyro slimes and masked hilichurls dancing around your tent, the inside of your humble abode moving around as if it were possessed.

And the cherry on top? A pyro abyss mage emerged, the flower floating besides it. But oh boy, it was no flower anymore... it was a flaming flower.

At that moment, you were left to ponder. Maybe, just maybe, you kinned a whopperflower at that point. Because oh boy did your temper and sanity explode on those little enemies, the way your blade sunk into their forms—

you were already planning your apology to albedo. he trusted you and loved you enough to make an artificial flower for you... and yet, it so pitifully crumbled at your touch

okay, not quite your touch. but it crumbled at the ugly pyro abyss mage’s touch

so, as any good s/o would do, you sulked while rebuilding your camp. it’s okay. as long as albedo didn’t know his creation was charred, all would be well. besides! he was quite a busy man! chances were low that he’d discover!

busy, he was, observant, he is

perhaps, you should’ve known

“Ah... hi Albedo,” You winced, opening your tent to smile at the alchemist who merely stared at you.

“You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?” He noted, remembering your absence from visiting his own camp at Dragonspine. As an alchemist, he knew what it was like being holed up in a camp. But for two weeks? Even he needed breaks.

“Well, you see... I was out... gathering materials! Yes!” You gave him a weak thumbs-up, wailing internally once his piercing azure eyes trailed around your camp, noting that nothing looked new.

“You don’t need to lie to me, [Y/N]. Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” You cut off, clapping your hands together in a prayer-like position, guilt welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“...Why?”

“Your flower—I left it unsupervised and it was set aflame and I’m so so so sor—“

“Don’t be.”

Mouth dropping, you stared up at the male, an amused expression painting his face like the canvases he dedicated to you.

“At least you were not hurt while it was set aflame. Come, I’ll show you how to make some more,” Opening your tent for you all the way, Albedo held a hand out to you, eyes flickering in mirth.

“And next time, don’t try to run away from your problems.”

“You cheeky littl—“ A blush of both embarrassment and fluster formed on your face, shocked at his sudden remark.

he made you an adepti amulet

enhanced with super-cool-adepti-no-mortal-can-have power, xiao had informed you that all you needed to do was hold up the amulet and it’d scare any kind of enemies away!

cool, right? too bad you left it unattended while fighting the irritable anemo cube! now it’s at the bottom of the sea <3

how did this happen, exactly? well... you see... when wind picks up and becomes strong... light-weight objects will fly up into the air!

and sometimes, those light weight objects will fall into the sea, and sometimes, those objects would be gifts from your adeptus boyfriend who was waiting for you back at wangshu inn—

ahem. anyways. you beat the crap out of the anemo cube (aka, beth. aka, tornado cube. aka, cube waifu)

I should just... not go back to Wangshu Inn today. Haha... I’ll go ask Katheryne for a commission... You nodded, stuffing the turquoise shards of wind into your pockets, your bags filled with mora and enhancement ores being thrown off the side of the cliff.

—Along with the adepti amulet Xiao had made for you.

Seriously... you still had to wonder just how that happened! One second, you were avoiding getting sucked up by the vent of the anemo cube... and the next, your bag was traveling the world!

Can’t have shit in Teyva—

Trekking back to Mondstadt in defeat, you were innocently oblivious to the worry of the Yaksha back in Liyue.

are they okay? do they need help? did they go to dragonspine? all these questions spun around xiao’s head as he watched the moon rise, his mask dissipating into the wind

you told him you’d return tonight... yet you hadn’t. and a part of him had wished you hadn’t left liyue, so he had at least some control over whatever dangers dared to attack you

but, he knew you were strong. why else would he love you, anyway? he does not find appeal in being the savior 24/7

so, he waits. atop the balcony of wangshu inn, across the stars and moon, he prays to his archon, wishing—no, hoping you arrive safely

And—you did. You arrived back at Wangshu Inn.

... Three weeks later.

“You’re late. Very late,” Xiao’s voice blared in your ears, a blessing and a curse all at the same time. You didn’t know how to tell him the amulet was thrown off a cliff—but at the same time, you really wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

“Haha... sorry about that,” You laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as Xiao merely grumbled, appearing before you with a piercing stare.

“Where were you? You did not even send me a letter.”

“I’m sorry... it’s just... eh... well...” You looked away, your heart churning against your ribs as Xiao extended his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

“What?” He asked, his tone harsh yet soft, longing yet logical.

“I uh... kind of... lost your adepti amulet... I’m sorry.”

He blinked.

“You waited three weeks to tell me that?” He asked in disbelief, almost in disappointment. Seriously, he was an adeptus! A Yaksha, at that! He could’ve just made another one for you... But nooo... you decided to wait three weeks in the land of the free (America?) and then worry him to death.

“Mortals...” Xiao muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a huff as he turned his head away, the wind picking up.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you going to say anything? Like a disappointed lecture or something?”

“No.”

Disappearing, you facepalmed, already pulling out some sweetflowers and milk to whip up some almond tofu.

Damn that adeptus. Who was he to tug your heartstrings like that?

You sighed, sitting beside a cooking pot as lingering yellow eyes watched your form, their irises softening at the sight.

— constellations! 💫

#genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #razor x reader #genshin albedo #genshin razor #constellarations

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now. So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together. Is he doing alright? You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people. “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted. “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again. “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger. “I mean, sapphires? Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked. “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too. She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it. "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen. But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard. "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really. I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up. "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

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bwbatta · 3 years

Text

The one where you get together (1)

Abstract: Y/N and Sirius have been friends since they first met on the Hogwarts Express, so when they do get together, they decide not to tell their friends straight away. (Friends AU)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Lupin sister!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, talking about sexual content

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: To celebrate reaching 500 followers, I'm dropping another mini series as a thank you to everyone who has shared and supported my work! Add yourself to my taglist here

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You could still vividly remember the first time you met Sirius Black.

Boarding the train to Hogwarts the first time, you managed to find a compartment with your brother, Remus, before it was descended upon by two rowdy boys with large grins.

James Potter and Sirius Black had, with no hesitation, introduced themselves to you and you quickly became friends, especially when you pulled your money together and bought a various selection of chocolates from the trolley. When the sorting hat placed all of you in Gryffindor, it only reaffirmed your friendship.

It wasn't just the four of you in your little group though, the boys were placed in a dormitory with another boy, Peter, and you shared a dorm with two other girls who also became fierce friends of yours; Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon.

Of course, growing up together through Hogwarts had it's arguments and fall outs, though somehow you always seemed to remain friends.

It wasn't until your seventh, and final year of Hogwarts did the surprising pair of Lily and James get together which solidified your friendship group even further. Between Sirius and you, the bet you had made in your fourth year regarding when the pair would get together, finally came to an end where you had happily took your winnings with a smile and paid for a bottle of Firewhiskey to celebrate.

After graduating, you ended up moving in with Marlene, finding a perfect two bedroom flat for you to share, close to Diagon Alley. The boys had taken a page from your book with Sirius using some of his inheritance from his great uncle and buying a flat directly across the Leaky Cauldron.

Whilst he had invited Peter to also live with him and Remus, the boy politely refused with the intention to stay with his parents for a while.

James however, had asked Lily to move in with him almost the second they graduated and the pair had moved to a little cottage in Godric’s Hollow. It wasn’t long afterwards that James had proposed to Lily which led to the current series of events.

About an hour before, you and Marlene had walked down the aisle in the gardens of Potter Manor in your bridesmaids dresses, while Lily had donned a white dress and followed you. Standing opposite your brother and Sirius, the latter caught your eye when your friends said their wedding vows.

With a wink, Sirius had your attention and you weren't exactly sure what it was that felt different, but something definitely did.

As the reception started, you watched Lily and James take some of their wedding photos together. The smile on your face was something you couldn't help as Remus appeared at your side, a similar expression on his own face.

"Remember when Lily hexed James so hard he vomited out of his nose because he proposed to her?"

"I'm pretty sure it made him like her even more to be honest, James is weird like that." You snickered, accepting the drink from your brother. "Who would've thought we'd be here not even four years later?"

"Tell me about it. If you plan on getting married anytime soon though, please give me some warning." Remus joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

"I think I need to actually date someone before I marry them, but thanks for being so optimistic about my dating life." You grinned at him before seeing Sirius making his way over to the two of you.

"Well well, if it isn't the Lupin twins." Sirius laid an arm over both your shoulders. "How long do you reckon it'll be before Lily's creepy uncle makes a move on Marlene?"

"At least after two more drinks." Remus chuckled. "Which reminds me, I promised I'd save her from any men tonight who wanted to dance with her that, and I quote, looked like they had to use a stamina charm in bed."

"Good luck with that." You snickered, waving your brother off as he disappeared in the direction of the blonde.

Sirius didn't say anything else as he took a seat at one of the tables and pulled you down into his lap. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to hug or cuddle, having done so numerous times in the Gryffindor common room, much to Remus' annoyance. This only really resulted in Sirius being more affectionate.

Being twins, the two of you were naturally closer than normal siblings which resulted in Remus being protective over you since the only blood family you both had left was each other. Your parents, especially your father, had grown fearsome and disgusted at what Remus was, despite it not being his fault when Greyback bit him all those years ago. Your father began to resent you after you constantly took Remus' side and played his constant advocate.

"Hey, what're you thinking about?" Sirius nudged you, grabbing your attention. His expression was unreadable as he watched you watch Lily and James interact with each other.

"I don't know, it's nothing." Sirius nudged you again, looking for a proper answer. "I look at them and I just wonder if I'll ever have that, you know? Someone who looks at you like you're their whole world."

Sirius didn't say anything at first, but pulled you closer. He wouldn't admit it but he often had the same thought cross his mind.

"You'll find them."

"Are they fucking hiding from me?!"

"If they've already met you, then probably."

Smacking his chest, you couldn't help the contagious laughter that bubbled from you, echoing that from the wizard.

"Being serious though," Sirius grinned at the pun he just made, "who wouldn't want you?"

You smiled at him warmly, not knowing what to say. It wasn't often that Sirius was, well serious. The boy loved a joke, but he also loved his friends and knew exactly what to say to them to cheer them up, especially you.

"Thanks, Siri."

"Hey, James and Lily are about to head off for their honeymoon." Remus said, knocking on Sirius' bedroom door at Potter Manor, stepping inside to see Sirius rush back out from the ensuite bathroom only in his shirt and boxers. "What happened to you? You disappeared from the reception."

"Uh, dropped cake down myself, had to come and change." Sirius told him quickly.

"You do realise you're a wizard right? You could've just vanished the mess?"

"Ah yeah, of course, how stupid, sure could've. Anyway, I just need to put on some clean trousers and I'll be right down."

Remus frowned. Something was off but he couldn't work out what it was. Putting it down to Sirius drinking too much, he waved the man off, exiting the room.

"Alright well, hurry down, James was asking for you."

Remus exited the room and Sirius quickly closed the door behind him. Turning back to the bathroom, he watched as you opened the door with a tentative expression, trying to zip your dress back up but failing.

"Do you think he knew I was here?"

"Don't think so, here, turn around, I'll do it." Sirius turned you around, quickly zipping up your dress before resting his hands on your waist. "So, we haven't done that before."

"That is correct."

It was slightly awkward between the two of you, why was it awkward? Oh, maybe because you were both fucking like rabbits not even moments before your brother knocked on the door. It had never been awkward between you before though and you didn't like it.

"Why is it so awkward?" Sirius chuckled as you spun around before him.

"Right! It's like I don't know what to say!"

"We're just two friends who've had sex one time, there doesn't have to be anything awkward about that!"

"Exactly, it doesn't have to be a big deal, it was a one time thing, we can just go back to the party and no one will know!"

"Yes, good plan, lets go!" Turning towards the door, Sirius started towards it with a new determination, completely forgetting one issue.

"Sirius?" He paused, looking back at you, "maybe you should put on some trousers before we go down though."

"Good idea."

Waving James and Lily off, you stood alongside the rest of your friends as Marlene appeared, pulling you towards her by your waist.

"Ugh, please tell me we're going to get some good booze and continue to get fucked up at ours?"

"Is that an open invite?" Remus asked with a grin, "Think I spied an extra bottle of Firewhiskey knocking about near the top table."

"100%," Marlene grinned at him, "after all, it's the least I could do after you saved me from so many creeps tonight. I will thank you in the form of hosting a small afterparty with the inner circle. Right, Y/N?"

"I'm up for it, I'll go see if I can grab that extra bottle you mentioned."

Taking off towards the top table, your eyes scanned the tables one by one until you felt a presence behind you. Already knowing who it was, you didn't bother looking back at them.

"I've got a fresh bottle stashed under my bed upstairs if we wanna grab that one?" Sirius said lowly in your ear.

"That sounds like a plan," you said slowly, "though I thought we said it was only a one time thing?"

"Weddings don't count, right? I swear that's a rule somewhere."

"...How long do you think we can be before the others get suspicious?"

"10 minutes?"

"Sounds good, lets go."

The pair of you said nothing more the entire night on the matter and ended up just having a good time with your friends. The boys ended up sleeping on your sofas, not trusting themselves to apparate safely considering the amount they each had to drink.

It wasn't until mid morning when everyone started to rouse, that you offered to make everyone a cup of tea to help with the hangovers that had started to form.

"Hey, make mine extra strong, will you?"

You laughed, turning to face Sirius.

"You need the caffeine that much?"

"That answer is a strong yes."

Pouring the boiling water into the mugs, you passed Sirius' over to him as he smiled at you in thanks.

"So, yesterday was something." You smiled, taking a sip of your own drink.

"Yeah... something stupid, right?"

"Yeah, totally stupid." There was a brief silence between you as you weren't exactly sure what to say next. "Look as much as I enjoyed it, I don't want us to become awkward or ruin our friendship or anything because of it."

"Good, because I was going to say the same thing." Sirius nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter top. "As good as the sex was, and trust me it was good, it's not worth making our friendship awkward or anything not knowing where we stand with the other."

"Right, yes, that makes a lot of sense." You both took another sip of tea as you listened to Marlene and Remus in the living room laugh about something. "Unless... wait no, it's nothing."

"No, what it is?" Sirius asked.

"Unless... I don't know, we keep fucking in secret and just don't tell the others?"

You stared at the tea in your cup before raising your eyes to meet Sirius' grey ones which were wide, a grin on his face.

"I guess that would work too?"

"Yeah... anyway on a totally unrelated note, Marlene's visiting her family tomorrow night at like 7."

"Noted."

"Where's my bloody tea, Y/N!" The blonde in question strode into the kitchen sluggishly. "I swear you've been in here for 4 hours making it."

"If you were a little more patient, Mar, I was just about to bring it out for you." You rolled your eyes but handed the mug over to her anyway.

"Thanks, how're you two feeling this morning?"

"Rough." Sirius grunted out as the three of you headed back into the living room. "But what's new there, really?!"

"You should really try cut back on your drinking, Pads." Remus mentioned, taking the cup of tea from you with a smile.

"You should cut back on your chocolate."

"Chocolate doesn't give you hangovers." Remus countered with a smirk causing Sirius to just roll his eyes as he sunk down into an armchair.

"Either way, I hope Lils and James are having fun." Marlene stretched out on the other sofa, placing her legs over your own. "I know James will be with the things Y/N and I packed as a surprise in Lily's bags."

You snorted into your cup as you remembered the countless lacy items you'd snuck into Lily's normally conservative wardrobe.

"Well, James might be happy about what you packed, but he certainly won't be happy with what we packed." Sirius snickered as Remus held back a laugh.

"What did you do?!"

"We might've exchanged his entire bag of clothes for an entire bag of Cornish Pixies." Sirius grinned. "I'm already expecting a howler from Lily at some point in the near future."

Sirius didn’t have to wait long for Lily’s reaction as only moments later he heard an angry shout through his two way mirror he shared with James.

As planned, Marlene visited her family the next day and no later after she flooed away, Sirius appeared at the front door of your flat. The same happened after Marlene was picked by Dumbledore for an order mission and Sirius happily flooed into your flat only moments later. You were convinced he’d bugged your flat somehow.

James and Lily returned from their honeymoon a week later, effectively surprising you as they flooed into your flat with no warning, causing you to stuff a naked Sirius into your closet. It was safe to say he wasn’t impressed after Lily insisted she make a pot of tea to ‘catch up’, and ended up staying round for several hours.

You barely managed to hide the snicker which escaped your lips when James asked if you knew where Sirius was.

With the newly married pair being back, the two of you decided to come up with a plan as how to sneak around without the others knowing.

Somehow, it didn’t really go to plan.

Sirius insisted that you should come over and take a bath with him one night, especially as Remus was due to be out. You couldn’t help but agree to the idea, mostly because you got to spend time with your very sexy male friend who looked very good in bubbles... and also the fact his bathtub was a lot better than your own.

The bathtub in question was a massive claw-foot tub which could fit the two of you and your two roommates if you so desired. Compared against the shitty little tub Marlene and you had in your flat, it was a no brainer.

Which is why as you sat in between Sirius’ legs, your back against his chest, you couldn’t help but feel more relaxed than you had done all week.

Sirius was leant back against the tub, his arm around your waist with a glass of Firewhiskey in his other hand. The two of you had nicked this particular bottle from James’ ‘secret stash’ which everyone knew he hid under his cloak, under the stairs. It was all too easy for the two of you to sneak in and borrow it for the time being.

“You know, Prongs must be real blind if he can’t see how many people actually know about his hiding spots.” You snickered as you took the glass from Sirius and took a sip.

“I think it might be all the brain damage after getting hit in the head so many times.” He grinned.

“How long do you think it’ll be until he notices the actual bottle being gone? A few days?”

“Give him some credit, it’ll be at least a week.”

The two of you chuckled before you heard the fireplace roar with flames. Footsteps quickly made their way towards Sirius’ room before heading towards the bathroom.

A panicked look between the two of you was exchanged as a knock was heard on the door.

“Pads? It’s me, I’m coming in.”

Sirius quickly took the glass of Firewhiskey back from you as you dived underwater, praying the bubbles would cover up the fact you were there.

The door opened and James stepped in about to say something, before he stopped and observed the scene before him. Sirius was sat covered in bubbles with candles lit around him. Despite the calm expression on his face, the fact you were lying between his legs in the water had his heart racing.

“Did you need something, Prongs?”

“Uh, yeah, have you seen the bottle of Firewhiskey which I was given as a gift for my wedding?” James asked, very obviously looking at the opened bottle on the side of the bath.

“Didn’t even know you got given one, mate. This was from Y/N.”

“And if I ask her, will she give me the same story?”

“Positively. Anything else?”

“Yeah, you want to order some Chinese?”

“I mean I- NO!”

His outburst was a surprise to both James and himself after you had pinched him underwater signalling you were running out of air.

“Really? Lily’s got me on this diet and-”

“James! Get out!”

“Fine! Okay! No need to shout at me, I’ve seen you in weirder scenarios.”

James left and shut the door behind him just as soon as you jolted up, gasping for breath.

“I’m sorry, he wouldn’t leave! He wanted to ask me if I fancied some Chinese.”

“Chinese?” You asked, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a contemplative look on your face. “I could go for some chow mein.”

“Prongs!” Taking a deep breath, you disappeared underwater again just before James appeared once more. “I’ll have a large chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, some of those prawn cracker things and the spring rolls.”

“Spring rolls? I swear only Y/N likes them.”

“Thought I’d try them out since as she’s always yapping on about them.”

“Alright, back in a bit.”

James left and shut the door again. You emerged from the water, leaning back on Sirius again as he relayed off what he’d ordered.

“You ordered me spring rolls?!”

“Yeah, I remembered you liked them.” Sirius shrugged, wrapping his arm around your waist again. “Even if they taste like arse.”

The group had gathered at Marlene and Y/N’s for an evening where despite Lily’s constant health kicks, she relented into ordering pizza for the group.

“Hey, you guys will never guess what I found out today.” Marlene grinned.

“You’re secretly a guy?” Sirius snickered from the armchair, only to receive a cushion being thrown at his face by the blonde.

“No,” Marlene scowled at him, “Alice and Frank got engaged!”

“What?! How’d you find out?” Lily asked as she cuddled up to James in the other armchair.

“I ran into Alice at Headquarters earlier and she showed me her ring.” Marlene leant back into the sofa as she brought her legs up to lay them over Remus’ lap. “We best be getting ready for another wedding soon.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear more at the meeting tomorrow.” James said grinning. “Who knew Longbottom had it in him?!”

“Alice certainly did.” You snickered, leaning onto Remus’ other shoulder. The comment got another round of chuckles from everyone present as Lily shot you a less than impressed look.

“Alright, I say let’s call it a night if we have to be at the meeting early tomorrow morning.” The redhead rolled her eyes at you all before standing up and brushing her dress down.

Everyone else seemed to follow her lead as Marlene and you stood to show everyone out.

“Yeah, I need to sleep as much as I can with Moony’s snoring keeping me up all night.” Sirius grinned, stepping up beside you and Remus.

What no one expected to happen was for Sirius to dip and find your lips in a kiss, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer, just as he had done for the last few weeks.

The rest of the group stood with slack jaws as they took in the scene before them as they watched Sirius kiss you. Pulling away, you caught each other’s eyes as realisation set in and your own eyes went wide.

“Marls,” Sirius shook off his slight hesitation before heading straight over to Marlene and pulling her in for a kiss of her own. “Lily.”

Stepping forward to give Lily a kiss goodbye, Sirius couldn’t help but notice the wide eyed look from both James at kissing his wife and Remus at kissing his sister.

“Pleasure to spend time with you all.” Sirius grinned at everyone’s expressions before entering the fireplace to floo back to his own flat.

“What the hell was that?!” Remus asked with wide eyes, securely on you.

“Probably some leftover greeting from Lily and James’ wedding. Lils did have some french cousins, perhaps he picked it up from them?” You chuckled, trying to play down the laugh you so wanted to let out.

“Yeah, it did feel french.” Marlene snickered. “I’m not sure if I feel happy about saying that I’ve kissed Sirius Black though.”

“Well, he can keep his lips to himself and not on my wife.” James scowled at the fireplace where Sirius had disappeared moments before.

HP Taglist:

@ochrythum @hahee154hq @loonyslytherin @fleur-tysworld @la3divine @fiantomartell

Permanent Taglist:

@whatthefuckimbisexual

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black headcanon #friends au #sirius black x you #sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin x reader #marlene mckinnon x reader #lily evans x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black series #harry potter imagine #harry potter series #remus lupin imagine #harry potter headcanon #james potter imagine

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

ataraxia. - ch. 5 [ diluc x reader ]

ch. 5 - regularity's dawn pairing: diluc x gn!reader warnings: mention of prior-obtained injuries. diluc is rich. uh,,, typical warnings for this series. words: ~1.9k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ] chapter summary: just you (a farmer), diluc (an unknown variable), and a dog (of the canine variety) existing in your house. you, of course, wish there were only two of you there... you think. well, no matter what, the dog is staying. a/n: mmm domesticity except the reader can't handle domesticity. but hold on guys,,, hold on,,, its happening,,, slowly !!! :D sorry it's been 28 years for this update lol

"y'know," you set the bags of groceries down onto the kitchen counter as diluc hobbles into the room after you. "fatui presence in the city is increasing."

today is the twenty-first day since diluc has arrived at your doorstep. things have changed in your home and in the world outside. for starters, you've begrudgingly acclimated to the presence of another within your household. diluc is rather polite, much to your behest. he doesn't pry into your past, he doesn't rifle through your things, and, from what you can tell, he hasn't gone into your bedroom without permission.

diluc respects the boundaries between the two of you and it pisses you off. for a man who showed up half-alive to your place of residence, diluc keeps himself together in a frustratingly fascinating manner. he's gotten accustomed to crutches. he washes dishes for you, despite the cast on his wrist and insistence that you can do it yourself. hell, with his pyro vision, you don't even need to worry about firewood nor kindle for the kitchen stove. diluc is oddly self-sufficient for a man as injured as he is.

however, it's not like you're not looking to take care of him. it's just irritating to see this man being able to pick himself right back up and act like everything is okay, even if crutches are tucked into his armpits and supporting his weight. you're no fool, though. you know things aren't perfect for the redhead. you can see it in the wistful glimmer of his eyes when it rains and you can see it in the way that it looks like he wants to speak but doesn't know how.

diluc picks himself back up from his injuries, sure, but you can tell it's a hollow husk of the person he used to be. besides, you're wise enough to know that a broken wrist doesn't cause the solemnness you see in his expression. the source of that pain likely occurred long before you met him.

"the fatui?" diluc asks and you immediately regret having internally praised him for recovering so well from his injuries. maybe if he hadn't, you wouldn't have been asked such a dumb question.

"yes, the fatui. that's what i just said," you snap in response and, much to your surprise, diluc lets out a laugh. it's short-lived and it's more of a bark of a laugh rather than a wholehearted chortle, but it causes you to glance over at him, shooting him a glare as you angrily unpack the grocery bags.

"you do not talk to many other people, do you?" diluc asks, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. his eyes gleam with a mirth you've never seen before in them and it serves to do nothing but baffle you.

"neither do you?" you respond and your words come out questioning, rather than the harsh retort you originally hoped for. diluc pointedly looks down at his broken appendages and shrugs his shoulders to move his crutches. you stare at him blankly, unamused by his nonverbal sass.

"fatui presence," diluc quickly redirects the conversation before it can fall in to an awkward silence. "are there any recent events that would lead them to increase their numbers in the city?"

you furrow your brow in thought. "i... i'm not sure. i'm not exactly the best informant. outside of what i see at the newspaper stands, there's not much i can go by."

diluc falls silent, expression mimicking yours. "each time you go into the market, could you purchase a newspaper?"

you stare at him, baffled by his question.

"diluc," you begin slowly, as if he doesn't understand. "those are expensive." printing is not yet widespread to teyvat, with most effort going into the publication of books and kamera photography. spending several hundred mora on the weekly copy of the teyvat times is a luxury that someone like you can't afford. most other farmers you had the (unfortunate) pleasure of knowing are in the same boat, with just enough money to live, yet not enough to indulge in disposable newspaper. however, diluc seems to care little about such things.

"i'll pay for it," he says and you narrow your eyes at him. you don't dare challenge him.

of course this random enemy of the fatui has enough money to pay for newspapers. of course! its only convenient that he can just afford whatever he wants. its infuriating. of course he can pay. he always does. he pays for his dumb expensive grape juice, he always offers to pay the bills, he indulges in everything that you have to work so, so hard for while giving absolutely no indicator as to who exactly diluc is.

hell, you don't even know his last name, but you're sure as hell not about to ask. to ask would show an indicator of wanting to get close and you've already overshared with the redhead enough. you bite back a sigh of frustration as he balances on one leg, setting his crutches to the side and begins to help you unpack the groceries.

diluc is only trying to help, you remind yourself. he wants to make life easier for you because you're helping him. yet, you want to scream and cry at him for it. diluc shouldn't be so diligent and determined all of the time. he should be weak, he should be human, but he's not. he's not human to you, not even close.

he's just this stranger who you help to avoid a guilty conscience. it irks you that he's helping you because you're not helping him out of goodwill. you're only helping him so you don't hate yourself later.

you let out a nearly silent sigh, before resting the palms of your hands on the kitchen counter, splaying your fingers out.

"diluc, go sit down," you state exasperatedly.

you need to rest, you want to say, but your concerns remain unspoken. you're not concerned over him, you tell yourself.

"no," diluc states. you press your lips into a tight line as he turns to put a bag of flour in the pantry. yet, even you are smart enough to know this is a fight you cannot win.

you let him stay, you let him pay, you let him win. it eats away at your autonomy and, even though your brain screams at you to hate him for it, a small part of you is thankful for his assistance and company. you feel the familiar rush of angry tears beginning to well up behind your eyes, yet you swallow the lump in your throat.

you realize now why diluc bothers you so much. you realize why you completely and utterly loathe him. you realize why he's nothing but trouble and how you can't wait for him to finally, finally leave.

you hate diluc because he reminds you of what you truly are: vulnerable.

---

you check the kitchen. nothing. you check the bathroom. nothing. you check the living room. nothing. you check your bedroom. nothing. you check the supply closet. nothing.

which leaves one place left unchecked: diluc's room.

in typical "i'm the owner of this house" fashion, you knock lightly on his ajar door and, without waiting for a response, swing open the door. at this point, diluc is unsurprised and you can see his brow furrow slightly in annoyance as he looks up from his book.

good, you think to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

"where is eos?" you ask, eyes scanning around the room. you crouch down to glance underneath the bed diluc is resting in.

"what?" diluc asks, confused. "what is eos?"

you stand up straight, staring at diluc with a nearly aghast expression. you take it back. the dumb, well-read redhead isn't smart.

"the dog," you say, as if the information is obvious (and it is!).

"oh," diluc says. "i was unaware it had a name."

"he has a name. it's eos. it's written on his collar and everything," you state, voice growing distant as you look over the room. determining that he very clearly isn't here (thank archons. you don't know what you would've done if your own dog picked diluc over you.), you narrow your eyes at diluc, staring daggers at him.

"do you know where he is or not?" you ask.

"he," diluc begins pointedly, as if trying to rectify for his earlier mistake. "appeared to need to... relieve himself outside, so i let him out when i was up earlier."

you bite back a groan. the weather today was great, which meant your dog surely wasn't coming back any time soon.

"you can't just let him out," you begin exasperatedly, rubbing a hand down the side of your face. "he likes to bother the chicken coop."

"he had to use the bathroom. in case it is not obvious, i am not quite in a condition to walk him out there," diluc states. you flutter your eyes closed in frustration, exhaling deeply.

don't bicker with him, you tell yourself. it's not worth it. you'll just sound like an old married couple.

wait, what? your eyes shoot open at your thoughts and diluc looks taken aback at your sudden wide eyes and startled expression. old married couple? you ask yourself, wondering what the hell your brain was thinking to make that thought pop into your head.

"whatever," you huff, shaking your head slightly to clear the weird thoughts out of your head. "sorry for bothering you. don't let the dog out again. i'm going to go get him."

you turn to leave, but the clearing of diluc's throat has you stopping in your tracks. you turn to look at him, tilting your head questioningly.

"'the dog'?" diluc quotes your words. the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement. "he has a name. it's eos."

diluc laughs at his own joke. it's soft and reserved and beautif-

"yup," you say, unamused, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the way his smile leaves his face. without leaving room for any more conversation, you walk out the room and close the door softly behind you.

idiot, you think to yourself, yet for once, the thought isn't directed at diluc. whatever. no time to dwell. you had a dog to go fish out of the chicken coop before he started barking angrily at the chicken eggs. last time eos had gotten loose in the chicken coop, the chickens were uninjured, but eos' ego was not. they had gifted him with a scratch of their claws, unamused by his barking antics.

you have your dog. you have your farm. you don't need diluc and you certainly don't need the way he nearly giggles at his own little jokes. yet, for some reason, it's all you can think of as you walk to the chicken coop.

"idiot," you mutter to yourself. "should've left him out in the rain."

after all, if you had left him out in the rain twenty-one days ago, you wouldn't be trying to furiously scrub the gentle upward curve of his lips out of your head, nor wishing he reserved such smiles only for you. archons, you are hopeless.

taglist: (please send in an ask to be added or removed to/from the taglist! name in italics means i am unable to tag you!)

@quixoticmirror @fishyfish-y @just-some-stars @karlitaburrito @lotsoffandomstoimagine @zhowongli @yakus-yakult @beanst0ck @nonniechan @justyoureverydayqueer @spice365 @lanicoco-12 @seokflwr @yamssoggyfries @callums-keith @gladly-olus @ferzia @just-some-stars

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact #//ataraxia #axia's writing

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 3

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

“Here we go.” You whisper, looking between Mobius and Loki, then up at Mount Vesuvius.

“Shh, any minute now.” Mobius adds.

“Until this entire town is wiped off the face of this planet. Imagine. All that volcanic ash-“ Loki starts.

“I know. We don't want to get too giddy.”

“Oh, come on! It's cool.”

“No, it is cool, but it's just not in good taste because...”

“They're all gonna die anyway.”

“I know. Now listen, I'm gonna watch the TemPad for any variance energy.” He says, pulling the device out from his pocket.

“Okay.”

“Okay, because we gotta be careful.”

“If you're wrong, and there's a good chance you are, anything we do can create a huge branch.”

“Oh, Mobius! You make even the end of the world sound boring.” Loki complains.

“Listen! Okay, we're not meant to be here.”

“And we don’t need Minutemen rushing here to arrest and delete us, okay?” You tell him. He nods,

“Okay.”

“Anything we do can impact the course of history. Do you get that?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“So we're gonna start with very small disturbances. Very small. Can you make bird noises?” You both frown at Mobius.

“Bird noises?”

“Yeah. Bird noises. Like some, like whooshing noises?” He begins to imitate a bird call. You roll your eyes,

“Moby? I was on the side of caution. But we’re going to need more than that.” Mobius continues his bird impressions to the disdain of Loki who groans and runs off.

“Loki!” You hiss. He doesn’t go far, standing on a nearby cart and proclaiming to the people of Pompeii that they are all going to die. On a positive note you’ve come up with a new scale to rate nexus events: starting with bird noises and ending with prophesying the future. Loki then decides to release a hoard of goats. Fantastic. Loki halts his Latin monologue to look over at you and Mobius for a fact check,

“We are from the future, right? What is the TVA? I mean, it's from the future. It sounds from the future. It's pretty futurey.” You’re about to answer him when you realise you don’t actually know. You’d always assumed the TVA just existed outside of time. Though you’re not sure how that would work. You’re about to ask Mobius when the volcano erupts. Loki then proceeds to have what looks like an existential crisis. “Nothing matters! Nothing has any consequence! Dance while you still can!” You lean over Mobius’s shoulder.

“How’s it going?” You ask, nodding towards his TemPad.

“I don't believe it. Zero variance energy. No branching in the timeline.” He tells you. Overhearing what Mobius says, Loki approaches you,

“The TVA would never even know we were here. If it were me, this is where I would hide.” A colossal cloud of ash rolls down the hillside, quickly approaching the three of you.

“Erm, Loki, bud?” You say, concerned that he hasn’t noticed. You point over his shoulder, “You got a little something-“

On your return to the TVA, the three of you head to the archives, searching for all naturally occurring disasters. Turns out there’s a lot of them. Mobius hands you a pile of events from before you existed, which you appreciated. Whilst you were curious about what happened to the world after you left it, you’re not too eager to see the long list of apocalypses. After what feels like hours of searching the three of you decide to take a break.

You and Loki are sat in one of the TVA cafeterias, waiting for Mobius to return with some food. Two hunters pass by your table, and you keep your gaze on the papers in front of you.

“Why do they look at us like that?” Loki asks suddenly. You look up at him.

“Like what?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. You and Mobius don’t get the looks that you and I get.” He observes. You sigh,

“That’s because when it’s me and you, they see two Variants possibly plotting to overthrow the TVA.” That shocks Loki.

“You’re a Variant.” He states, and you nod,

“I was set to be deleted, until Mobius stepped in and saved me.”

“You must be very grateful to him.”

“I am.”

“So you believe in the all powerful lizards which dictate the existence of trillions of people?” You smirk, looking down at the papers in your hand.

“I didn’t say that.” You glance up at him, recognising the look on his face immediately. He was scheming. “Look Loki, I may not be a hundred percent loyal to the TVA, but I am to Mobius.”

“Mobius, who is a part of the TVA, who you don’t fully trust. How can you know he has your best interests at heart?”

“I don’t. I’m just hoping, that he does.” Mobius soon joins the two of you. After a brief discussion about jet skis the conversation quickly turns far too philosophical for your poor ‘I’ve just read about a million case files’ brain.

“I don't get hung up on believe or not believe. I just accept what is.” Mobius says with a sigh. Loki looks at him incredulously.

“Three magic space lizards?” Mobius nods,

“Time-Keepers.”

“Created the TVA, and everyone in it?” Mobius nods again. “Including you?”

“Including me.”

“But not me.” You add. Loki laughs softly,

“Every time I start to admire your intelligence, you say something like that.”

“Okay, who created you, Loki?” Mobius asks.

“A Frost Giant of Jo

“And who raised you?”

Odin of Asgard.

Odin, God of the Heavens. Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars. Frost Giants. Listen to yourself...

It's not the same. It's completely different. No. It's not the same.

It's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose. Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real. “Fair enough. You believe it's real.”

“Yeah.”

“So everything is written. Past, present, future. There's no such thing as free will.”

“Well, I mean, you know, it's an oversimplification...”

“But practically, yes.” You say, not wanting to hear the in-depth workings of the timeline.

“So, in fact, in a way, us three here at the TVA, we're the only ones who are actually free.”

“Where are you going with this, Loki?”

“How does it all end?”

“That's a work in progress.”

“Those lazy Time-Keepers. What are they waiting for?”

“Au contraire. Because while we protect what came before, they're toiling away in their chamber, untangling the epilogue from its infinite branches.”

“So when they're finished, what happens then?”

“So are we. No more nexus events. Just order. And we meet in peace at the end of time. Nice, right?”

“Do we get to live in peace or do we just disappear because we aren’t needed anymore?” You ask, suddenly concerned that he mentioned the end of time. Loki continues his own questions,

“Only order?” Mobius hums in response. “No chaos? It sounds boring.”

“I'm sure it does to you.” Loki suddenly changes the subject,

“You called me a scared little boy.”

“I called you a lotta things.”

“You did. You're wrong, though. You see, I know something children don't.”

“What's that?”

“That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.” Well that was deep. Mobius looks down at the table in front of him.

“Scared little boy.” He repeats.

“Yes, it was quite patronizing. I thought it was a bit too far, actually.” Loki admits. Mobius looks up, an idea dawning on his face.

“You're very clever.” He tells Loki as he stands up.

“I know.” Loki makes a ‘well obviously’ face as you stand and follow Mobius as he makes his way to the archive.

“The Variant left something behind at an old crime scene. A cathedral. A candy box. An obvious anachronism. I gave it to Analysis, but they couldn't find anything real.”

“Why does that matter?” Loki asks. Mobius unlocks a box on a nearby shelf, before opening it up.

“Cause now we have two variables. Apocalyptic natural disasters and... Kablooie.” He pulls out the candy box.

“What's that?”

“Candy. Do you have candy on Asgard?”

“Yeah. Grapes, nuts.”

“No wonder you're so bitter.”

“There’s a massive vending machine near Renslayer’s office. One time, I’ll buy you one of everything.” You tell Loki as the two of you sit down at your desk. Mobius returns with a huge stack of files.

“Okay. Kablooie was only sold regionally on Earth from 2047 to 2051. All ya gotta do is cross-reference that with every apocalyptic event.” The three of you sit, sorting through the files for sometime. Mobius looks up at you,

“Anything?”

“Well, it's not the climate disaster of 2048.” You tell him, flicking the page over.

“Or the tsunami of 2051.” Loki adds.

“Let's go. Let's go. Come on.”

“2050. The extinction of the swallow. Is that a thing?”

“We killed off the swallows?” You stare at Loki. “How the hell did that happen?” Mobius shrugs,

“Completely screwed up the ecosystem.”

“Krakatoa erupted in 2049 as well. No Kablooie.”

“God, it's just one damn thing after another, isn't it? Cyclone, famine, volcanoes, floods...” Mobius lists, and you can’t help but agree.

“Got him. That's where he is.” Loki pulls open a case file before offering it to you and Mobius. The two of you peer at the papers inside.

“Alabama, 2050.” You read aloud. Loki looks at you both, seeming rather pleased with himself. Mobius grins,

“You're gonna take my job if I'm not careful.”

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @aloisia @fandom-lover-4 @lam-ila @momos-peaches @gracey07 @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged, just ask!!

#mobius m mobius x reader #mobius x reader #agent mobius x reader #mobius #mobius m mobius #agent mobius #marvel au #mobius imagine #mobius loki #loki 2021 #loki show #marvel x reader

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

acquainted | eight

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.6k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy and slight possessiveness, making out

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Should we go to that charity event the school is holding on Friday? It sounds kind of fun." Ryujin sipped on her drink, while you went through your closet, showing her different outfits over the facetime call.

"What's it for again?"

"I don't remember, but the Golden State Warriors dj is going to be dj'ing. He's pretty good."

"Yeah he is. I mean, I'm down, especially if it's for a good cause."

"Okay, I'll grab us tickets when I head to campus."

"You're not even gonna ask Jimin or Tae?" You chuckle.

"Why would I? They do everything we do, they don't know anything outside of us." You shake your head.

"Cut them a little slack."

"Boohoo, they'll say yes regardless. Bring Jungkook!"

"I mean, I'll ask, but I'm not gonna force him."

"Oh quit, I'm sure he'd be happy to spend time with you." She looked at you through the camera. "K, let me see that outfit."

"He said casual." You showed her your outfit in the full length mirror.

"Absolutely, yes! You're fucking hot." She squeals, automatically solidifying your outfit for tonight. It, thankfully, wasn't too cold in the Bay today, so you throw on a grey distressed denim mini skirt, a low-cut light grey longsleeve, a belt and some heeled combat boots. You ruffled and fixed your hair a bit until you were satisfied with your look, picking up the phone once more to turn your attention back to Ryujin.

"Thank you."

"No problem, babe. I hope you have fun! Did he say where you two were going?"

"Nope, it's apparently a surprise."

"Ugh, I love him already." She gushes, causing you to shake your head. You dabbed a bit of lip gloss and pressed your lips together to spread it out before spraying a perfume cloud for you to walk through. Sooner or later, knocks came at the door.

"Okay, I think that's him. I'll talk to you later?"

"Call me as soon as you get home. I want to know how big his dick actually is."

"You're sick. You sound exactly like Tae, you know that?"

"We're not talking about him."

"Love you, bye!" You abruptly hang up on her, unsure of why the hell you deal with her and Taehyung's crude comments. You grab your bag and open the door to see Jungkook standing there with a small bouquet of flowers. He peeks his head over the bouquet with the cutest smile you have ever seen.

"Hi." He slightly scrunches his nose and pulls you into a hug. Goddamn, does he smell good. "These are for you." He hands you the bouquet.

"Jungkook, they're beautiful. Thank you." You take it into your kitchen and place it into a vase really quickly before stepping out. You eye him from head to toe, and boy is looking like a whole ass meal in the denim outfit he has on. Like, who in the world could pull off this outfit like that?

"You look amazing." You blush. "If you ever get cold, just let me know, alright? I can spare my jacket."

"You're so sweet."

"Just want to make sure you're comfortable." He shrugs. "You ready?"

"Depends on what you have up your sleeve."

"Nothing extreme, if that's what you're thinking." He laughed. "I hope you enjoy it, though."

"Thanks for planning all of this, by the way."

"No biggie. I'm just glad to finally spend some time with you." He does a little run to open the passenger car door for you before hopping into the driver's seat. Immediately, he gets the car started and turns up the heat to make sure you're comfortable. The radio is softly playing Zayn's sHe, with Jungkook softly singing along.

"Wait a minute," You chuckle. "Do you sing?" He smirked.

"Maybe."

"Hey, that's not fair. Sing louder."

"No, now I'm shy." He chuckled.

"Why? It's just me."

"Yeah and I just wanna impress you and not make a fool out of myself."

"You won't! Please." You pouted, making him shake his head.

"Ugh, Y/N. That's going to easily become a weakness for me if you keep pulling that pout." You keep pouting. Eventually, he gets over himself and starts to sing a little louder than earlier, causing your heart to flutter at how angelic he sounds. He ends up laughing towards the end and shrugging it off, his cheeks tinted with a rosy tint as you shower him in compliments. Swoon. You were so into the moment that you didn't even realize Jungkook was taking you across the bridge to San Francisco. You and your friends don't come to the city much, strictly because there's too many goddamn hills, parking is expensive as fuck, there's too many one way streets and people just get crazy as hell [like crossing the street when it's not time to walk?!]. It was a little calmer back home and that's all you guys needed. You watch as he parks the car effortlessly on a steep hill before coming over to your side to open the door for you.

"Whew, that's gonna be a workout later." You look back at the steep hill that you're gonna have to climb after eating dinner, you assume.

"Don't worry, I got you." He laughs. There's actually a lot of people out for a Tuesday evening that you end up hanging onto his arm to get navigate the random sea of people. He walks into Brenda's French Soul Food - nothing too fancy, but nothing too casual. The waitress brings you both towards the back end of the restaurant and out into the patio, where there are christmas lights hung around the fence and outdoor heaters posted. He pulls out your chair before sitting himself down, the waitress putting down your menus and cups of water.

"Ohhhhh, my god." You say with heart eyes looking at the menu. You had heard about this place from so many people, and you were impressed that Jungkook was able to score reservations being that it's always so busy due to its popularity. "I'm so excited! I've been wanting to try this place."

"Goodjob, Jungkook." He says, patting himself on the back. "If you're happy, that's all I could ask for." The waitress comes back to offer recommendations, which you both include in your orders in one way or another. Although packed, the restaurant was able to pump out orders quickly and efficiently so you and Jungkook weren't sitting around for too long without food.

"So, how's Jin in class?" You almost choke on your food even though this is something you should have expected. You really wanted to avoid speaking about him tonight, but you knew it was inevitable being that you were out with his brother.

"Um, he's alright."

"Just alright?" He rose his eyebrow and chuckled.

"No, sorry. I mean, he's a really good teacher. Definitely better than our last professor. Everyone in class loves him."

"That's cool. Yeah, he's really smart and wise. I've always looked up to him."

"How long has it been?" You weren't sure how to ask the question, but Jungkook understood what you were asking.

"I was a sophomore in high school when my mom met his dad." You're silent for a moment, allowing him to continue on if needed. "I had a really hard time at first, you know? The whole stepfather thing. My anger was moreso directed towards my mom and my stepdad for awhile. But Jin helped me out a lot. He helped me come to terms with my feelings about everything and he stuck by my side, always had my back whenever I got into arguments or bickered with one of our parents." You nodded, suddenly feeling guilty even though you and Jungkook weren't a couple.

"So, you two are really close." He nodded.

"Yeah, we are. I really don't know what I'd do without him. He's taught me a lot and helped me grow. Plus, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi have been around too. They treat me like their own little brother.”

"That's sweet. It's nice to have that kind of relationship with your sibling and their friends." You chuckle.

"It is." He nods. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Ryujin, Taehyung and Jimin." He laughs.

"From the club, right? I met your friends, they're fun people."

"They're too much, honestly. I'm the only child, but we've all been stuck to the hip since freshman year in college."

"That's cool that you guys have been together since then." You give him a toothless smile. "I think it's pretty awesome that you guys are tackling grad school together too."

"Initially, we all had different plans, but Jimin had some big goals for himself including grad school, and it played a huge role in my decision to do grad school, too. Then Ryujin followed, then Taehyung."

"Cute."

"Speaking of friends, there's this charity event at school on Friday." You look up at him, a small smirk growing on his face.

"Uh huh?"

"And I was wondering if you wanted to come along with us. They really want you there."

"That's sweet. But, what matters the most is that you want me there."

"I wouldn't be inviting you if I didn't, right?" You bit your bottom lip.

"Touché. Of course I'll go with you, beautiful." He does a small nod before sipping his water. "Should we show up in matching outfits?" He joked, causing you to snort.

"Honestly, that seems pretty entertaining. Cute, and entertaining."

"I'm down if you are." You stuck your tongue out playfully.

"I'm game too."

"Let me know what you're wearing then."

"I will, whenever I figure that out."

"Take your time. Just know you'll look good in anything." You blushed. You both continue to talk over the remaining bits of your food before Jungkook calls for the check. You watch as he scribbles his signature onto the receipt before standing and sticking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. While exiting the small and crowded restaurant, you hold onto his hand, feeling him grip it tighter as you both successfully make it out. The night isn't too cold, and you sure as hell knew it wouldn't be after you conquered the hill that Jungkook parked on.

"Fuck." You say as you stand on the street, eyeing the steep hill in front of you.

"Come on." He says, slightly bending down for you to hop onto his back.

"Ouu, I don't know if that's a good idea--"

"Y/N, I promise it's okay. Come on." He laughed. Hey, if he was willing to do this, then why not? You hop onto his back, his arms wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, while you clung onto his neck. "See, not so bad, right?" He says, sprinting up the hill, making you laugh and hold onto him tighter.

"Shit, I am so sorry. That was probably a workout. Right after we ate, too."

"Nah. It wasn't anything." He scrunched his nose. On the way back over the bridge, Jungkook is heading towards Lake Merritt. You both are singing along to songs and joking around about topics that pop up here and there. When he parks his car, you notice a whole crowd of people gathered by the lake, which was a little unusual for this time of night. He grabs your hand and gently caresses the top with his thumb as he walks you over towards the crowd. To your surprise, you realize people are gathered here for a water lantern festival. Your eyes light up, making Jungkook smile at how excited you look.

"Jungkook, what the hell! How did you know about this and I didn't?" He shrugs.

"I have my ways." He says, his voice low and deep. You playfully shove him before you make your way over to grab lanterns to decorate. You and Jungkook sit off in a more quiet, calmer part of the lake, silently decorating your lanterns and writing your wishes along with it. What exactly did you want to wish for?

Happy friends, happy family. Happy you.

Whatever happiness meant to you.

To have Chance look over you.

Jungkook is done pretty quickly, but he waits for you to finish, not questioning what you've written since he figures it's a private matter. He shows you his lantern and his cute little stick figure drawing of his family and friends. You giggle, watching him gently lay his lantern in the water, giving you leverage to do the same with yours. You stand closely to him, his body providing you some warmth as you watch your lanterns float off into the lake and illuminate the night along with the others.

"Ready? We have one more thing to catch." He snakes his arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze. You simply nod, following him back to his car. He takes you about 30 minutes away, exiting and pulling right into a lot two street lights down from the exit. He pulls up to the ticket booth, buying 2 tickets for Tenet at the drive-in movie. You squeal and clap in your seat excitedly, also not knowing this was still around.

"Did you really do your research to plan this date?"

"Yes and no? I've been here before, and I thought it would be fun to take you. The restaurant and the lantern festival though, yes." He parks his car as instructed, turning the radio to the correct channel in order to hear the audio. "Wanna hop in the back so we have more room?" You nod, getting out of your seat just to hop into the back. He leans over into his trunk, grabbing water bottles and assorted gummy candies for you to snack on in case you wanted some. "I hope you're having fun so far."

"I am." You respond softly.

"Okay, beautiful. If you say so." He chuckles. He moves the driver and passenger seats forward so that you both have room to spread your legs a bit. At first, Jungkook made sure to give you enough space so he wouldn't make you uncomfortable, but over time, you felt yourself sinking closer and closer to his body until he had his arm draped around your shoulder, while part of your body rested on his. His hand gently caressed your arm, occasionally sending goosebumps through your body at how soft his touch his. You glanced over, admiring at how focused he was on the movie. He must have felt you looking at him because he quickly looks over and blushes as he nibbles on a gummy worm. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just cute how focused you are."

"Damn, are you not into it?"

"I am, but it's kind of hard to follow sometimes."

"Yeah, it's definitely one of those movies." This time, his gaze on you is a little longer than before. You don't know what takes over you, but you plant a kiss on him, making him smile into the kiss. He doesn't say anything, but proceeds to rest his free hand on your neck, pulling you close and into another deep kiss. Your hand grips onto the side of his shirt, your tongues slowly fighting for dominance. The sounds of wet kisses fills the car and tunes out the movie audio. You can feel the moment intensifying, both you and Jungkook letting out breathy moans in between kisses. Suddenly, the thought of Seokjin quickly flashes in your mind, the past nights you've spent with him and the nasty shit you both have done to each other.

You lightly gasp as you pull away, but it wasn't obvious to Jungkook that something had disturbed your peace.

"Sorry, I—" He tries to save face just in case he was in the wrong about something.

"No, I just— I wasn't expecting it to get that intense." You lied. You knew damn well.

"It's okay." He chuckled. "I would never rush you into anything, Y/N. Okay? We can take this slow." He gives you a genuine, warm, reassuring smile that causes you to swoon. Why the fuck was he so good? Just why? How was this even fair right now?

All you do is simply smile and lean back onto him. He's back to caressing your arm and shoulder, giving you small pecks on the top of your head every now and then to reassure you. Part of you wondered if this is what Seokjin had taught him over the years - how to properly love a woman and be a gentleman. But then, that quickly fades when you remember the situation you're in with him.

Well no, you're not in anything with him. You needed to stop doing this to yourself.

When the movie ends, you both climb back into the front seats to make your way back home. You feel the exhaustion hit you, all the fun and adrenaline you felt today slowly come crashing down. Jungkook parks in the passenger loading zone, throwing on his hazard lights before walking you up to your apartment.

"Jungkook, thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed it and had a ton of fun with you."

"I'm glad." He cups your face and gently places a kiss on your forehead. You weren't satisfied with it though, so you tippy toe as you hold onto his hand and kiss him on the lips. He leans into the kiss, deepening it for a quick second before pulling away. "Let me know the details about Friday, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight, beautiful." He smiles and licks his lips as he watches you walk in, feeling utterly content with how the day went. You feel the same way, smiling to yourself as you throw your bag onto the floor and prance into the bathroom to get ready for bed. You felt the butterflies in your stomach every time you thought about Jungkook and his smile, or his soft lips against yours.

Butterflies that kept your mind off of—

[jin] 10:04pm: Are you still with Jungkook?

You roll your eyes at the text. You hadn't pulled out your phone all night, so you're also seeing the numerous messages from your friends in the group chat, too.

[jimin] 7:45pm: have fun tonight, Y/N!

[taehyung] 7:50pm: ^ ditto. use protection, young lady

[taehyung] 7:50pm: think about mr. kim's feelings

[ryujin] 7:56pm: taehyung kim, shut the hell up. do you have anything better to do?

[jimin] 8:01pm: i really hope she doesn't pull out her phone during the date -__-

[taehyung] 8:05pm: lmfao you guys, chill out

[taehyung] 8:06pm: i'm sorry y/n, im just kidding. have fun tonight and be safe, love you

[ryujin] 8:10pm: CALL ME WHEN YOU GET HOME Y/N! i wanna know deets, remember! and ask him if he wants to join us on friday!

Unbelievable. Your friends were unbelievable, and that was an understatement. You don't respond to the group because you figured you'd call Ryujin in a bit and update the boys over the week. But to Jin's text - fuck.

You were literally just tucking him away in the far, far, far dark, deep depths of your mind.

[y/n] 11:38pm: I was, but now I'm home.

[jin] 11:39pm: Yeah, he just texted me back. Sorry.

[y/n] 11:40pm: It's okay.

[jin] 11:43pm: Okay. Have a good night.

He hates this. Why the hell would you do this to him? Grace is upstairs sleeping while Jin is trying to clean the kitchen up like he promised. Suddenly, his phone goes off, signaling a call coming in.

Jungkook.

"Hello?"

"Oh shit, yes! You're awake!" Jin chuckles a bit.

"How was the date?" Not only was he asking out of curiosity, but wanted to know how you were doing during the night. Completely none of his business but he couldn't help himself.

"God, she's fucking amazing. A-and-and beautiful." He yells into the phone excitedly. "She's so exciting. I can't wait to take her out again. I just wanna keep spending time with her." Jin is pretty unamused on the other line. Thank God he isn't on Facetime so he didn't have to fake this facial expressions hearing about Jungkook's feelings for you. "S-she- I mean, we kissed."

"Oh?" Jin asks, tongue pressed against his cheek. What the fuck.

"Yeah, we were making out during the movie. It got pretty intense, but it didn't get any further than that. I didn't wanna rush her into anything."

"You think it could have escalated?"

"Yeah honestly, but I wanna do right by her, you know?" Jin can tell how serious Jungkook was starting to become about pursuing you, and he had never felt more competitive until this day. He just wanted you to himself, and he wanted to be the one to kiss you and make you feel things you've only dreamed about.

Not his brother.

He, too, wanted you just as bad. If anything, more.

"It sounds like it was a pretty successful first date." Jungkook is beaming through the phone, he didn't have to see his face to know that.

"It was. It was such a good night." Jungkook chuckles. "By the way, I'm going to that charity event on campus on Friday. Are you and Grace going?"

"Probably not."

"Well, if you both are free, you should swing by. It'll be nice to see Grace."

"Yeah, I'll ask and see what's up." Jin sighs. "I should probably get to bed, I'm pretty tired. I'm happy to hear the date went well, kid."

"Thanks, dude. I'll talk to you later, get some rest."

"You too." Jin hangs up the call, silently hitting his fist against the kitchen counter as he lets out a deep sigh. More than ever, he wanted to keep you wrapped around his finger. He wanted to keep you there, no matter how selfish that sounded. There was no way he was going to let you unravel.

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willddheartt · 3 years

Text

29 Days | Wilbur Soot

30 days to fall in love with someone? Sounds easy right? It would be if that person wasn’t so unbelievably annoying in almost every sense.

You’re not sure how you found yourself in this situation, but you were positive there was no backing out now…

Series Warnings: Mostly fluff and angst, and a very poorly constructed enemies to lovers plot.

Word Count: 1424

Masterlist Series Masterlist

29 Days

You woke up to find your phone blowing up with notifications from your friends and fans. You opened the discord app, seeing everyone freaking out about you and Wilbur. Neither of you had answered yet, and that just lead them to spam their questions even more.

When did this happen?

Were you hiding it from us too?

What?

Y/N and Wilbur??

I thought Y/N hated him!

Y/N???

WILBUR???

They were getting more and more impatient. You sighed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before you began typing to them, although you hated the app format of Discord, it was easier than getting up and booting up your PC. Wilbur and I are dating, yeah. You started. No, we weren’t hiding it from you guys, we just wanted to make sure it was something that was going to last before we told anyone. You thought you would have had at least a few hours before you had to put on the act that you were trapped in for a month. Exiting discord you went to text Wilbur.

Good morning, Darling. Hope you wake up ready to put on a great performance later on.

You smirked to yourself as you sent the message, knowing you were truly outdoing yourself from yesterday.

Sitting in the kitchen you threw your long hair up in a messy bun to keep it out of your face as you scrolled through Twitter while sipping on your morning coffee. “Good morning Y/N.” Cece yawned, as she walked out of her room. “Morning, Cece,” You smiled She looked at you from the opposite side of the island, “So what exactly is going on between you and Wilbur?” She asked. You shook your head, looking down into your coffee mug, “It’s nothing really, we’re just friends.” “Really?” She raised her eyebrow at you, “Cause we’re just friends and I haven’t seen you featuring me on your twitch channel and announcing that we’re dating.” She gave you a sly smirk. You cracked a smile, “Yeah, we might be dating.” “I thought you hated him!” She exclaimed “I did! I did!” You fought back, “But, I don’t know, I had a change of heart.”

Just then your phone dinged from your hand, a notification displayed a message from Wilbur.

Good morning beautiful, I believe we are going to have to call everyone later and inform them of our new relationship.

You smiled and rolled your eyes before typing back, Cece might also want to sit in on this one, she saw our stream.

The sun had begun to set outside your window as you sat down at your PC, getting ready to call your friends with Wilbur and explain everything about your relationship as you could without letting too much get out. You met with Wil a few minutes beforehand to get your stories straight so neither of you would mess anything up. Tommy sounded the most surprised to find out you and Wilbur were together, but once the shock wore off, he wouldn’t stop asking how to get a girlfriend, as per normal Tommy fashion. By the end of the call, everyone was very supportive and happy for you.

“So do you guys have plans to meet up?” Dream asked

You stared wide-eyed at Wilbur's chat icon in discord, you never even thought about that, of course, you were going to have to meet up at some point to make it believable. “We actually talked about it before but haven't been able to figure out a good time yet, and where we hadn’t gone public we didn't want to raise any suspicion with the fans if we had to stream.” Wilbur took the lead, “However we have been talking about it a lot in the last day and it seems like something that’s going to happen now,” Wil said. You were so thankful your camera wasn't on and you were just one voice chat because you would have sworn your eyes got as big as hockey pucks, you could handle talking to him like you were together over text and through a screen, but in person was something you never thought you'd have to deal with even though in the fine print of the rules the two of you compiled it was very finely implied that you would have to meet in person. “Yeah,” You coughed, “We were hoping we could meet up sometime this month, your schedules don't seem too busy, so it might just work.” You went around for a few minutes before everyone called it. Though they said they understood what you guys had going on they still seemed confused about how you and Wilbur acted like you hated each other one day then the next turned around to say you were dating, but if they weren’t willing to ask any more questions you weren’t going to try and pester them out.

“Hey, Y/N, Love, don’t leave, I wanna talk for a bit,” Wilbur said just before everyone left the VC. You waited for everyone to be out of the chat before speaking, “Hey, Wil,” The adoring tone in your voice made you want to throw up. “So when are we meeting up?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “I don’t know, Wil.” You sighed, “I didn’t think we were going to go that far.” “Y/N, of course, we were going to have to meet up at some point. C’mon, why don’t we talk about setting a date now?” “Sure Wil,” Your head fell into your hands. “Firstly, whos going to who?” You asked Wilbur took a moment, thinking, “You’ve got a roommate right?” He finally asked “Yeah, we have a small place.” You nodded even though he couldn't see you. “If it would work, it would probably be best for me to come to you if that works?” You asked “That would work, When do you want to come out?”

You opened up your schedule, to see if there were any big events happening that you had to be home for. Coincidentally, you were an open book. This worked out too well, you thought shaking your head.

“I’m literally so free this month, Wilbur. We could try something for next week if that works on your end.” You spoke, clicking through the many open windows on your computer. “That works out for me. I can make up a place for you to stay if that would make you more comfortable.” His offer almost made your heart soften. “I’d like that, yeah.” You nodded.

It was only the second day and some of the things he did could almost make you forget you were acting and none of this was real, you had to remind yourself that this wasn't the ‘real’ Wilbur you knew, he’d never be so much as nice towards you.

“Right then,” You said, “I’ll take a look at travel prices and tickets and shoot you a text when I have a booked date?” You asked “That would be perfect.” Wilbur yawned, “Okay, have a good night, Y/N, I do believe I’m going to pass out any moment here so I should be getting to bed.” His voice was tired and you could almost picture his drooping eyelids with his head rested on his palm, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Goodnight Wilbur, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.” You said softly, mouse hovering over the leave option. “I love you, bye,” Was the last thing Wilbur said before logging off.

Out of the many things that have caught you off guard in the past two days, Wil spilling those words in his tired state really caught you off guard. You sat staring at the empty Discord call for a few minutes, mind blank, the only thing you could think of was Wils echoing voice. “I love you,” That was something you were sure you were going to hear as you were falling asleep in a few hours.

You continued to sit there in your darkroom, just with the light of your PC, once again, thinking about what was truly happening with you and Wilbur. You already knew he was a phenomenal actor from the performances he’s put on for the DreamSMP. But you wondered just how far that extended, as much as you despised him, you couldn’t help the thoughts creeping into ‘is it something more?’ territory. At the end of the night, you were left alone and confused with nobody you could talk it over with.

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flowercrown-bucky · 4 years

Text

I Put A Spell On You

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Modern!Loki x Reader, Modern!Thor x Reader, Loki x Wanda

Warnings: NSFW content - 18 plus ONLY (NSFW parts are in bold. If you do not wish to read this type of content, keep scrolling on past it.)

Summary: What do you do when you fall in love? Embark on a clandestine affair with their brother, of course.

Authors’ Note: Whoo! It’s the one we’ve all been waiting for. I didn’t think weld ever actually get here. My attention span isn’t good enough.

I’ve never written smut before so if you could, like, not be mean, that would be great. It was weird to write and re-reading it made me want to vomit cotton wool so it’s not fully proofread. Also, it’s sex from a female - Y/N’s - perspective bc as a woman I do not know how sex feels from a man’s perspective. If that’s what you were expecting, I do not know what to say. Sorry, I guess.

Start At The Beginning | Series Masterlist

Chapter Six - Concerning, primarily, the events taking place between forbidden lovers within Loki’s flat on a Thursday evening.

TAG LIST: OPEN (PLEASE COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED!)

Oh look it’s a different bum gif

London's West End, June 15th 2018.

Stepping into the bar on Old Compton Street was like stepping back in time. From the stone-laid floor to the warm red lighting, to the polished steel of the bar and the mirrored walls, from the second you set door in the bar you felt like you were in New Orleans in 1976, despite the fact you were not alive in 1976 nor had you ever in your life visited New Orleans.

Either way, you were on a sophisticated night out (Making a change from your normal crawl through Camden's finest), and sitting at the bar sipping a martini from a highball glass - as opposed to a can - you felt like pure class.

The tall blonde at the end of the bar had been watching you as you chatted with your friends all evening, and after five minutes of you glancing across at him, he'd approached you. Your friends had quickly disappeared in a cluster of giggles and overpriced cocktails, leaving you alone with the handsome stranger half a foot away from you.

You bit your lip, shyly looking away from his intense gaze.

He quietly introduced himself, his charm and easy smile drawing you in. You chatted for hours, yourself completely entranced by this handsome, beguiling man.

After many, many drinks, you found yourselves locking lips, messy and drunk and beautiful. Your teeth clashed and your tongues slid together, not caring who saw or what they thought.

"Something tells me." You murmured between kisses. "That I was meant to meet you tonight. Like the universe meant to bring us together for some reason."

He said nothing, opting instead to catch your lips in his once more.

Loki's Flat, Present Day.

You glanced up at Loki, your breaths heavy in your chest. His head bowed down to yours, his gaze intense in a way you'd never seen before, his own breath warm on the skin of your exposed neck. His grip tightened on you, his fingertips pressing into the flesh of you right waist. Words escaped you under his intense gaze, your breath hitched in your throat.

Your noses bumped gently as you leaned into each other, a gentle chuckle leaving his lips. Your heart hammered in your chest, blood rushing to your increasingly clammy hands. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if he'd notice how sweaty your hands had become through the thin material of his shirt.

You bit your lip awkwardly, watching his gaze slide down your face, stopping at your lips.

[I put a spell on you

Because you're mine]

You inhaled sharply as he leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, bringing his hand up to the back of your head, pulling you into his kiss with a harsh tug on a fistful of your hair. The taste of red wine lingered on his lips, along with something so uniquely him that you were convinced wyou'd never get enough of it.

You gasped quietly, your lips parting slightly, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Your mouth pressed insistently against his, your hands grabbing at the back of his neck, allowing yourself to feel all the feelings you'd harboured since your first meeting.

[You better stop the things you do

I tell ya, I ain't lyin']

You gasped as his suit-clad knee pressed between your legs, his hand falling from the backing from the the back of your head to the small of your back, pushing you backwards. You squealed as the sofa hit the back of your knees, knocking you off balance. You grabbed out at Loki in a desperate attempt to steady yourself, causing both of you to topple backwards and land on the sofa in a tangle of limbs. Steadying yourself, you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

Loki's eyes met yours, the grin on his face making it impossible to suppress your giggles any longer. The two of you laughed nervously as you untangled your arms and legs from each other. He held your face between his thumb and two fingers, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"You are everything." He whispered, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You blushed, leaning back up to kiss him.

[You know I can't stand it

You're runnin' around]

His fingertips were cool on your waist, slowly, gently, bringing your shirt up as they rose up your abdomen. Your kiss deepened as you ran your tongue across his lip, your mouths moving together sloppily, teeth and tongues clashing. Yet, his hand stayed still, remaining on the bare skin just under your breasts. You rolled your eyes, propping yourself up slightly on your elbows, reaching to unbutton your own shirt.

[I can’t stand it

‘Cause you put me down]

"You were taking too long." You breathed, wriggling out of your shirtsleeves.

"God, do you ever shut up?" He grabbed your thighs and rolled you over, one leg resting either side of him. Your shirt fell open as he began unbuttoning his own, your eyes trailing across his bare chest. The feeling of your skin on his as you removed the rest of your clothes, his mouth trailing kissses down your neck, was becoming unbearable, need burning in the pit of your stomach.

[I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine]

"Are you sure about this?" He asked. "This is what you want?"

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again but he caught your chin in his hand, stopping you just short of his mouth.

"I need to hear you say it." His voice was desperate, almost begging you.

"I want this." You voice was soft. "I want you, Loki."

[You know I love you

I love you

I love you]

Your words elicited a noise you'd never heard before from his mouth, a deep, primal noise, almost a snarl. He grabbed at you roughly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, pulling you to him.

He unbuttoned his slacks, freeing his erect cock and lining himself with where tyou hovered above him. Slowly, he guided himself into your soft, wet entrance, eliciting a deep, primal moan from him. A slight groan left your lips, a groan of frustration and of him finally giving into his urges, of finally feeling every ridge of him inside of you. You felt his blunt head nudge at your sweet spot, every movement adding to your growing frustration.

You rocked your hips slowly backwards and forwards, feeling a moan of pleasure rippling through your chest as you felt him reach places you previously didn't know existed. He reached down, catching your hip in one massive hand. He bit his lip as he grabbed st the soft flesh. It would bruise tomorrow, you thought.

[I don’t care if you don’t want me

I’m yours right now]

His thumb slid across your increasingly sweaty navel, gently running his fingers over your clit, before pressing more firmly. A grin spread over his face as your breath caught in your throat, his fingers catching a rhythm as they rubbed gentle circles.

Your hands fell to his chest as he moved you, feeling him rock up into you. You wanted to touch him, needed to touch him, needed to feel like he was yours.

Could you die with this man between your legs? Quite possibly.

[I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine]

You couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything but him, hitting that one spot over and over and over again until you could barely breathe. You felt your climax building inside you, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

A filthy moan escaped your mouth as you came, your body spasming with pleasure. Loki followed quickly, riding out his high with slow, lazy thrusts.

[I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine]

"I love you." He breathed, cradling you to his bare chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but found yourself stopped by his finger.

"It's ok." His lips curled into a crooked smile that you thought your heart might die for. "You don't have to say it if it's hard to. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to be anything but you with me."

You smiled gratefully, your eyes suddenly heavy with the emotional drain of the day. As you drifted off to sleep, you were vaguely aware of him speaking, his voice low and soothing as he muttered in your hair, but you could not muster enough consciousness to focus on the words.

"I wish you were mine."

Loki woke with a groan.

Why was his body so heavy?

Where was the light coming from?

And what the fuck was that godawful noise?

He blinked, shifting his hand to rub his face.

What the fuck had he just touched?

It almost felt, like hair.

It was hair.

Your hair.

His whole body bolted into an upright position, his hands holding you carefully so as not to jolt you, reaching out for his phone. Eventually, his hand settled on it, and he flicked it on to check the time.

10:28 AM. Fuck.

43 missed calls. Double fuck.

He threw his head back, screwing his entire face up as he remembered exactly what had happened.

He’d bailed on Wanda, and ended up shagging his brother’s fiancé on his sofa, when he really should’ve been fucking his own girlfriend.

Oh, and now he was two and a half hours late for work.

Nice fucking work, knobhead.

His eyes flitted down to where you lay in his arms, and everything felt okay for a moment.

You looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, so authentically yourself, your hair splayed across his chest, the morning sun illuminating your features.

“Hey,” He rah one hand through your hair, gently shaking you. “Hey, little one, you need to wake up.”

You peered up at him with one eye.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You’d rung your manager, explained that you’d overslept, and you were pretty sure you’d just about gotten away with your job in tact.

You’d rung your sister, Sophie, explained that you really needed an alibi for last night in case your husband-to-be wanted to investigate your reason as to why you had randomly left and not come home or been contactable all night (You attributed this to a “family emergency”). She’d been suspicious, incredibly so when you wouldn’t tell her where you’d actually been - something you knew you would have to come clean to her about or come up with a really good excuse - but you were fairly certain she’d back you on this one.

Oh, and you sort of accidentally fucked Loki in the shower.

You weren’t even entirely sure how it happened. One minute you’d been rinsing soap suds off your arms, the next your back was against the wall, his lips on your neck, your hands tugging at his wet hair.

You didn’t know what had come over you. Come to think of it, you didn’t know what had come over you last night either. The connection between you, it was magnetic. You felt it the first time you’d met, and you were fairly certain it would only get worse now you’d been intimate with each other.

In all honesty, you didn’t feel as bad as you thought you would.

Not that you didn’t feel guilty. You had cheated on a man who loved you. Twice. You knew you’d done a terrible thing.

You felt guilty, for sure, yet you were slightly more concerned with the possibility of your little tryst being discovered. Was that guilt? You weren’t sure it was.

You were dreading seeing Thor, dreading getting yourself out of this one. How could you continue your life as normal, choosing cakes and dresses? You’d committed the rest of your life to this man. Could you live out the rest of your days living a lie?

“Hey,” Loki’s voice was soft, his hand cupping your face. “I really need to go to work, seeing as I’d quite like to keep my job.”

“Yeah.” You echoed. Me too.”

“I’ll call you later.” A gentle smile spread over his face as he stared at you. “It’s all going to be okay, little one.”

You wished you had as much faith as he did.

He kissed you gently, nothing more than a brush of lips on lips, shutting the door to his flat behind you. You felt slightly dazed as you ran down the steps, all the way into the parking lot where you’d abandoned your car.

The ticket tucked under the wipers was not what you needed to see.

You banged your head against the steering wheel as you settled in your seat. You could not shake the feeling that you were already neck-deep in hot water and the sand was still slipping from under your feet.

Oh, fuck.

—

[This chapter is a slightly different format. You may or may not have noticed, but every chapter is a named after and inspired by a song - this chapter directly contains lyrics.

One for the eagle eyed among you - whilst writing this I made a small amendment to Chapter Four. There’s a tiny detail that appears twice, once in Chapter Four and again in Chapter Five. Has anyone noticed what it is?

Also, shout out to anyone else out there who struggles to express emotions verbally. I feel like loki would understand that.

And to my sister, who gets her cameo in here.]

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#loki smut #tom hiddleston smut #loki x reader #loki x you #loki of asgard #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #thor x reader #thor x you #thor odinson #loz writes loki

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revchainsaw · 3 years

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Buffy: the Vampire Slayer (1997)

Season 1

Hello and Welcome back my creepy congregation! We will be taking todays service from the Big Screen into your living room for our first Personal Devotional. That's Right! We're reviewing full seasons of television series now and what better way to bring the spirit of the genre film to the idiots lantern that with the 90s Television sensation and all around love letter to the horror genre, Buffy the Vampire Slayer!

The Message

Regardless of how one may feel about Mr. Whedon we can't deny how much we love Buffy Summers and the Kids who live and die in Sunnydale! Season one of Buffy was a spin off/reboot of the earlier film and an attempt by Whedon to course correct the franchise by breathing a little charm and attention into the subject matter.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 1) focuses on Buffy Summers, a not so typical California high school student who, due to the events of the movie, has been relocated to Sunnydale High. Buffy is not just a cute, athletic, teenage girl looking to enjoy the prime of her life, though she is those things, she is also the Slayer, an anointed warrior who has been reincarnated throughout the generations to protect our vulnerable weak human world from the forces of evil; particularly Vampires. Buffy is a sort of supernatural Captain America, that is a peak human being, but instead of Nazi Science she was born with her powers.

Joining Buffy are; High School outcasts Willow and Xander (a nerd and a nice guy respectively), The ridiculously sexy librarian Rupert Giles (her mentor, guardian, high school librarian, and all around precious papa bear), Jenny Calendar (a technopagan computer teacher armed with all the mystery an ignorant 90s boomer could attribute to the internet), Angel (Spoiler: He's a Vampire, but he's a good guy. A hunky, broody, good guy vampire love interest), and her loving but entirely oblivious mother. The Scoobies as they have come to be called aid Buffy in her quest to protect Sunnydale from Dark Forces.

And Speaking of those Dark Forces, they are primarily vampires, led by the Master; an ancient vampire who resembles to some degree Nosferatu and a Bat, a look that Guillermo Del Toro would later perfect in his own series the Strain. The Master seeks to fulfill an ancient prophecy that would open the Hellmouth (a portal to hell, exactly what it sounds like) and free him in order that he and his kind should conquer the world.

The first season is fairly short consisting of the following adventures.

1. Welcome to the Hellmouth - Buffy moves to Sunnydale seeking to leave her Vampire ways behind, but the vampires just won't let her catch a break.

2. The Harvest - Vampire Shenanigans continues. Buffy learns of the Master.

3. Witch - A fellow Cheerleader is possessed by her witchy mom.

4. Teachers Pet - Buffy vs Giant Mantis

5. Never Kill a Boy on the First Date - Buffy vs the Anointed One (Not Really)

6. The Pack - Buffy vs Hyena Possessed High School Bullies

7. Angel - Buffy vs Angel but actually Darla

8. I, Robot ... you, Jane - Buffy vs Internet Demon

9. The Puppet Show - Buffy and Sid the Dummy vs Organ Harvesting Demon

10. Nightmares - Buffy has bad dreams

11. Out of Mind, Out of Sight - Buffy vs Invisible Nerd

12. Prophecy Girl - Buffy vs The Master (also Buffy Dies)

Overall the short season, while not allowing for too much world building, kept the show to a format that allowed very little filler. So although we mostly only get vampires as villains, we don't have enough time to really be bored of it. Some of the shows dynamics and cultural concerns definitely date the series but overall Season 1 of Buffy is definitely not a difficult watch, and can be enjoyed over and over again.

Let's get to the Benediction:

Best Character: Slay Girl, Slay!

As far as season one goes the titular Buffy Summers is the best character. Sarah Michelle Gellar is absolutely charismatic in the lead role and though at times she may seem selfish or reckless it makes perfect sense for the character. The character is allowed to be weak, to be selfish, and to be unlikeable. She avoids the foibles of a Luke Skywalker or a Harry Potter. She joins the ranks of primary protagonists who are not constantly outshined by their supporting cast. I believe when Buffy is sad, I believe when she throws a punch, I believe she struggles with her destiny. The only thing I don't believe is how ditsy she let's on.

Best Actor: Head's Up!

Anthony Stewart Head. Head as Giles is just fantastic. His balance of frustration with Buffy and genuinely parental concern is heartwarming and absolutely makes Giles one of the warmest father figures in television history.

Best Episode: A 'Master'ful Finale

It all builds up to Prophecy Girl and for good reason. Television shows often have mini-finale's at the end of their first seasons because the teams behind the series are not sure they will have a chance to tell more of their story. For that reason you can see just the first season of most television series and feel like you've heard the whole deal. I wish this habit was kept up in other seasons as we wouldn't still be wondering what the hell happened to Joel at the end of the Santa Clarita Diet. Buffy is no exception to this phenomenon and therefor attempted to tie up much of it's narrative in Prophecy Girl. While that often means big bads will be dispatched, I think it's a small price to pay for not winding up in a cliff hanger. Buffy and Giles just shine in this episode, Angel is given a more heroic role, Willow finally values herself as she should and Xander stops being a fucking horrible human being for once. This episode really satisfies in all areas.

Best Villain: Sweet, Sweetheart Killer

It's such a shame that Darla was killed so early on in the franchise. She is such a great presence on the screen that she overshadows all the villains that play alongside her, even the Master. I would have loved to have seen an alternate season where she offs the old coot and assumes the role of big bad much like Spike does in Season 2. Lucky for everyone that Darla is featured throughout the show in flashbacks and I hear she is even resurrected in Angel. Also, for Scott Pilgrim fans I feel like she and Envy Adams are very much sympatico. Maybe if they reboot Buffy all my dreams will come true.

I'd also like to take this time to recommend the song Angels and Darlas by Say Hi! It's pretty good.

Best Monster Design: Internet Troll!

While I can't speak for where the money in Season 1 of Buffy went, I can say that at least some decent cash was spent on both the forms of Moloch the Corruptor from the Episode "I, Robot ... You, Jane". Moloch was pretty wicked looking as a machine toward the end of the episode, he looked like a Mortal Kombat villain, but it's the green scales and ram horns the actor is sporting at the beginning of the episode that really catches the eye. In fact, I'm feeling compelled to hunt down any Moloch the Corruptor merch that may be out there on the internet. It's certainly no mystery why the demon's face is featured prominently in the theme song. It just looks great! Good job to the make up department there.

Most WTF moment: "Pack"s a Punch on Principle

While not the greatest episode in season one "the Pack" is certainly worth the watch if for no other reason than the horror is kicked up when a group of high school students under the influence of a malevolent Hyena God, decide that the School Mascot is not enough to satisfy their bloodlust turn on the principal, and yes, THEY EAT HIM. I remember being completely caught of guard the first time I saw that scene, and it kickstarted the running gag of Sunnydale high principles meeting their demise in horrific ways.

Worst Character: No More Mr. Nice Guy

When I was in college I often felt bad for Xander. The funny guy who just had no luck with women. He was sarcastic but had a big heart, and used a horny gimmick to mask his loneliness, or so I thought. But now I am older, I am wiser, I have known the touch of another human being and I have to say that Xander Harris is a really scummy fellow. I don't remember thinking so poorly and I wonder if the character develops a more nuanced view of women as the show goes on. As it stands there's barely a point in the series that Xander does not view the female cast as objects for him to enjoy or be embittered towards for one reason or another. It's not charming, it's foul. Xander Harris of season one is absolutely a terrorist attack waiting to happen, if Buffy had happened today it would be much more concerning to see someone so embittered, horny, and entitled to womens time and energy as Xander Harris. Dude is one step away from pulling an Elliot Rogers. Calm down buddy and maybe actually listen to a woman and you may find you aren't as much of a 'nice guy' as you think.

Worst Episode(s): If you're not first ...

It's a toss up on this one. Season One of Buffy is actually so short and concise that the 'Monster of the Week' episodes will have to be up for grabs as the worst episode by default, but even they are pretty watchable and don't warrant the vitriol a "worst" dub usually entails. I'd say there is not a worst episode of season one, just some episodes that aren't as good as the rest. In that vain, take your pick from "Witch", "Out of Mind, Out of Sight", or "The Puppet Show". However, I'd be doing a disservice to those episodes not to mention that each one of them takes what could just be a basic Buffy Vs (insert Villain), and does something unique and interesting with the idea. The villain of "Witch" actually turns out to be a has been cheerleader actually possessing the body of her innocent daughter to relive her glory years, The Invisible Girl is actually the victim of social cruelty, her peers disinterest in her manifesting in her condition becoming quite literal and she is picked up by the military in the end, then the Puppet show, well, it's just about the stupidest most absurd thing that could possibly happen and it's completely unafraid of that fact.

Summary:

Buffy The Vampire Slayer (Season 1) is not the most groundbreaking TV, but it is absolutely evident why the show was such a phenomenon. Season 1 is particularly rewatchable. It does not demand too much investment or attention, but it will get it from you, especially on a first viewing. It's not afraid to take itself absolutely seriously or to plant it's tongue firmly in it's cheeks. It is to a degree a product of it's time, but in many other aspects feels timeless.

Overall Grade: B

#Buffy #Buffy the Vampire Slayer #Vampire #Horror #Television #Series #TV #television series #Grade B #B #90s #1990s #1997 #wilde 1997 #buffy btvs #Moloch #Demon #Monster of the Week #Season 1 #(B)

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lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean · 3 years

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La Pomme ~ Chapter 14

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

As annoyed as she'd been about Cas leaving against her better judgement, it felt good to be back on the road again. What she'd done yesterday, running away and searching for her family, had felt simultaneously necessary and awful the entire time she was doing it; like her nerves were sliding up against a cheese grater the wrong way. Worse than her standard feelings of unease. Being back in the car with Sam and Dean, finally headed once again toward Jack on their rescue mission, gave her a sense of peace and a strange kind of pain relief from the prior day's grating.

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Now a threesome, Sam, Dean, and George had set sail again on their mission to find Jack. Everyone in the car--including George, surprisingly--seemed comfortable with Dean's music filling the silence for the first few hours.

That being said, at the moment there was a throng of angry butterflies swooping through her abdomen. Cas and Sam had said they trusted her, by which she was flattered, but she felt immeasurably guilty. Should they trust her? Sure, she knew she was leading them the right way to find Jack, but was she supposed to be leading them at all? For all she knew, she had disrupted their destined timeline and was causing all kinds of unknowable consequences that would come back to bite them all in the ass eventually. She was starting to wonder whether her intentions were purely altruistic or if she was really just being selfish.

They had a short way left to go when they stopped for a quick, light gas station lunch and Dean decided to get some shut eye. He denied it, but Sam was almost positive he needed to sleep off all the crap he'd been consuming. When they got back in the car, Dean laid down in the back, Sam drove, and George sat in the passenger's seat.

It was her first time in the passenger's seat of Baby and she was strangely giddy about it. Her eyes roamed over every inch of the infamous car, taking in the surreal experience. Sam's arm adjusting on the steering wheel caught her attention and her head snapped sideways to look at him. A memory of a dream she'd had years ago filled her sight and the Sam sitting next to her was 10 years younger, with shorter hair and a baby face, but he had the same expression on it. It was a strange kind of worried uncertainty, like he was trying to figure out a riddle he already knew the answer to.

The vision felt so real and before she could stop herself she blurted, "Sam?"

He turned to look at her quickly and in a blink he was back to the older, bearded version she was used to. She could tell she had startled him out of his thoughts. Quickly she covered, "Uh, can I ask you something?" He nodded with a quiet noise of permission and she asked, "What you and Cas said earlier… about 'trusting' me? Uh… were you serious about that?"

"Yeah?" He wondered why she seemed so stupefied.

"Well," George had to take a moment to figure out how to articulately ask her question, "Why? I mean what makes you believe you should?" The look on Sam's face made her chuckle, letting out a nervous breath she'd been holding; she quickly clarified, "Don't get me wrong, you definitely should trust me and I'm honored, truly. But, I'm a mysterious woman who showed up in the bunker one day with no provable explanation and now is claiming to have inside information about the location of your missing adult-son-angel-human? I should be a walking red flag to a Winchester. Like, at least as a safety precaution, you shouldn't trust me until you know me, right?"

"I know you--er, enough," Came falling out before he could stop himself. Quickly he stumbled to add, "I mean, I feel like I know you enough to know you aren't lying to me…? Anymore, I mean," He added upon remembering she'd lied about her origins when they first met. He didn't think that counted, exactly; he would have done the same thing in her situation.

"But… why? What makes you feel that way?" George pressed. She still didn't understand. What made him so quick to trust her?

Sam was quiet for a while, turning a pale shade of green, before answering, "Same reason I was able to find you at the hotel, I guess?" He glanced at her with a serious expression and could tell by her gulp that she knew exactly what he was talking about. The pull; she felt it too. He exhaled deeply and reminded her, "Good instincts?"

Staring at him curiously, she imitated him, "Yea… that must be it."

The air around them felt strangely electrified as they both sat in silence. They were each fighting their own internal struggles about what it all meant. She wanted to ask him what he meant, ask him what this feeling was and if he was feeling the same thing. He wanted to know what she knew about his dream. As Dean let out a sharp snore, they both debated whether it was the right time or place.

"Do you trust me?" He asked her suddenly and it surprised her.

"Uhhhh, yea? I mean…" She paused, seriously considering it for the first time, then nodded definitively, "Yes."

"Why?" He pressed with a smile.

Understanding his point, she rolled her eyes, "That's--"

Cutting her off, Sam admitted with a smile, "OK, maybe it's a little different, but… you trust me because I remind you of someone who you know to be trustworthy, right?" She nodded slowly and he shrugged, "It's kind of the same thing for me."

George's eyebrows furrowed at him, starting to get concerned that she already did understand what he meant. Still, she asked, "Oh-kay, but... the person you remind me of is Sam Winchester… and you just so happen to be Sam Winchester, soooo-"

"OK, I don't know exactly how to explain it without sounding crazy, but I feel a connection to you," He finally admitted. Each word scratched and clawed resistantly on their way out of his mouth while he squirmed in his seat.

"A connection? To me?" She was surprised. And not. He affirmed with a quick nod and she began to fidget nervously. What did he mean? Did she already know? Is it what she's been feeling, too? He couldn't possibly feel the same connection she felt, surely; what she felt was easily explainable by her having been a fan of the show. But then what 'connection' was he talking about?

Trying to gather her thoughts she blurted, "Why?"

Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly and admitted, "OK, uh, about ten years ago I had this... dream." His eyes were glued to the road, so he didn't notice George suddenly stiffen tightly, whipping around to look at him. She instantly remembered her memory flash from earlier and a strange tingling sensation in her gut told her she knew exactly what dream Sam was referring to. She knew this feeling had nothing to do with the show.

Of course she'd had lots of dreams about him, and countless other fictional or otherwise unobtainable people before, but the dream that sprang to mind had been… different. It had saved her life.

"A dream?" she croaked, sweat forming on her cool skin. Was it her or was it suddenly sweltering in the car? She was desperate to take off her hoodie, but felt like this was the wrong time to be stripping.

"It was right after Dean had died--and, at the time, I thought he was gone for good. I was trying to fix it but it was taking a long time. Things got pretty dark. And then one night I…" He hesitated for a moment and then said quickly, "I had a dream. In it I met a woman in a bar and she… well, she was trustworthy. She helped me... find the light again," He finished vaguely with a wistful, if slightly embarrassed smile.

George felt as though the world around her were still moving but everything about her was in suspended animation; her body, her thoughts, her functions, like someone hit pause on her.

The night she'd had The Dream™, she'd been left at the altar by her would-be-high school sweetheart, who ran off with her best friend, the maid of honor. The heartache had felt unbearable and she happened to have had access to some serious pain pills. In her grief, she assumed they, coupled with a few bottles of tequila, would be enough to end her pain. But instead she'd had an indescribably intense dream about a man who made her feel ridiculous about throwing her life away over a dipwad like Greg. And--purely coincidentally, she'd always assumed--the man from her dream had been Sam Winchester.

While her dream had been incredibly significant to her, it's not something she'd even thought about until this moment. Why would she? It was just her pill and booze induced dream haze, randomly manifesting a hot, loving, perfect person to help her see that life was worth living. Of course, she had always known it wasn't real, that she hadn't actually dreamt about the real Sam Winchester.

Obviously, that's ridiculous! Because, he's not re- She paused her thoughts when the man in question's anxious throat clearing snapped her back to the moment. Blinking finally, she looked at him closely and noticed that he was avoiding looking at her. He was white as a sheet and his jaw was clenched so tight, she felt sympathy pain in her teeth. A burning sensation in her lungs reminded her that she couldn't remember when she'd last breathed in.

With a quick, deliberate inhale she asked, "And I... remind you of this woman?"

The serious tone of her voice made Sam finally turn to look at her. Her expression told him his instincts were right but he couldn't believe it. The two of them stared at each other in shock for longer than was safe to be driving. Neither knew what to say.

The car swerved slightly when Sam was startled by a loud, screeching 80s guitar solo suddenly emanating from the backseat.

"Jesus!" George yelped, jumping out of her skin.

Dean rolled over and sat up with a grumble, "Close. Jimi Hendrix." He held his noisy phone up and dismissed the alarm, "Did I miss any stimulating conversation?" Sam and George both looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes before simultaneously mumbling vague denials. Dean was attune to their odd behavior but when he noticed a road sign for The Trees of Enigma, he opted to ask instead, "Where are we?"

"Oh, uh--'bout 20 miles from False Klamath. What's the plan?" Sam instantly switched to work mode when he realized they were getting close.

Dean raised an annoyed eyebrow, "Are we already that close? Didn't we talk about stopping at the last town for a motel first?"

"Er--uh, oh--right," Sam groaned and his eyes rolled back into his head in embarrassment. He was furious with himself; Dean had mentioned that plan at their last stop but Sam hadn't exactly been giving his brother his full attention.

"What?" George asked curiously. "When was this conversation?"

"At the gas station," Dean said matter of factly, watching as she narrowed her eyes at him. "It was just before we left. I wasn't hiding it from you; I mentioned it when you were walking back to the car. Remember, you got distracted trying to fish out that M&M that went down your top," He chuckled in amusement, looking to share the joke with Sam but finding him looking oddly guilty instead.

"Oh, yeah," She responded slowly. Looking down and pulling her top away from her chest, she muttered, "Did I ever get that out?" Dean snorted and then watched Sam glance over as she hooked a finger down her top to go fishing again, realizing why his brother had missed the motel plan in the first place.

"George, it's not--it's not like that--" Dean began but stopped short, not knowing what to say to comfort her.

When George's head suddenly popped up again, Sam jumped, his head jerking toward the road and Dean stifled a laugh.

Looking back at him, she asked, "Ok, but why would we stop at a motel when we're this close? It's the middle of the day, the place is still open." Looking back and forth between them, she saw their expressions slowly turn guilty and she realized. With a mildly offended huff, she stated matter of factly, "Oh, you were going to leave me at the motel while the two of you went to go look for Jack alone. Got it." Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned to look out the window. Dean and Sam shared a guilty, 'oh, shit' expression.

"It's just that..." Sam tried to pick up where his brother left off, wanting to explain, but he froze too. He couldn't stop kicking himself for being distracted by her--er, their conversation. He should have been paying closer attention and now they faced nothing but bad options. Options that put her life in more danger. "...Well, it's just-"

"Oh, calm down," She cut him off softly with a small eye roll, looking back at them. She sneered like a spoiled teenager, "It's fine; I'm fragile and weak and have no monster fighting skills to speak of. I'm a baby sans trench coat. It would be too dangerous and irresponsible to let me come with you, so you had a plan. I get it. Liking it is another story, but I get it. At least now I know how Jack feels," She lobbed, giving Sam an annoyed smirk, to which his head hung slightly. With a deep calming breath, she explained in a more poised tone, "I'm not upset, I'm just frustrated that there's nothing I can do about it; I know how fucking pig headed the two of you are when you're right."

"Even worse when we're wrong," Dean added empathetically after a beat and Sam nodded apologetically.

George snorted in agreement and sighed, "Alright, well your offensively infantilizing, yet totally justified plan to forcefully protect me has failed, so now what?"

Dean rubbed his eyes, letting out some thoughtful grumbles and trying to clear the sleep fog from his brain, "Uhm, well we just gotta keep driving to the next town, find a safe place for you there and then double back; start looking for Jack."

As Dean spoke, George allowed herself to focus on her instincts and there was suddenly a fire alarm going off in her head. There was a sense of urgency she couldn't shake. Jack was in trouble.

Looking directly at Sam, George begged, "The nearest town is nearly 20 miles away! We have to find Jack, now. We're this close and I don't think we have time to waste. I've got a bad feeling," Either because they were getting closer to where she believed Jack to be or because she was finally paying attention to something other than Sam, she could sense how much danger the kid was in. But Dean was shaking his head dismissively, not listening beyond her request to stop. She tried offering sweetly, "We can at least stop since it's right here and you guys can take ten minutes to ask around and see if they've seen him? Do your little detective cosplay, strictly recon--I'm not sure if I'm using that term right but it sounds cool, so just go with it. I will stay in the car! Please!"

Dean looked like he was considering it but quickly shook his head, "George, I don't think that's a good idea; you'd be completely vulnerable and we can't be distracted worrying about you when we're trying to find Jack." He then squinted at her, offended. "And it's not cosplay. We're hunters, not LARPers."

"OK, I've seen you LARP and I know for a FACT you fucking love it, Mr. Braveheart!" Dean gave her a shocked glare, forgetting again that she knew more about their lives than a woman he'd met mere days ago normally would. She continued before he could respond, "And seriously, you guys I have a really bad feeling," She held her abdomen for emphasis, "Jack's in trouble! Please, I'll stay in the car with all the doors locked and one of your big giant knives. I'll be OK! I stabbed you didn't I?!" George reminded Dean, though she knew she was grasping at straws now.

Dean's eyes narrowed, "OK, first of all, you sliced me a little an-"

"Enough! Dean's right, we're not risking your life, Georgia. It's too dangerous," Sam's tone was startlingly definitive and both she and Dean were a bit stunned. Now that he realized who she was--who she had to be--there was no fucking way Sam was putting her in anymore danger. He'd made enough lapses in judgment since she'd showed up, any number of which could have already gotten her killed. He was done taking risks with her life.

As they saw the 'coming up' sign for "The Trees of Enigma", he pushed his foot down, speeding up just enough to make his point.

"Sam, please listen to me! Jack is here and he's in danger! What about protecting him?!" Both Sam and Dean shared an uneasy look; she could see they were torn she just didn't know how to convince them. Desperately, she reasoned, "I will be fine in the car! I promise! I'm from the future, God damnit! Don't you think I would know if I'd died on an old episode of Supernatural?!"

"I can't take that chance," Sam replied sternly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Dean and she shared a confused expression and George huffed.

When they spotted the giant Johnny Appleseed statue around the bend, her stomach dropped. She could tell by the look on Sam's face there was no use and she began to panic, pleading with him. He was resolute about continuing, but as they were coming up on the turn in for the parking lot, he suddenly felt the steering wheel pulling against him. The whole car started thumping hard on the left hand driver's side. It took them a second to realize they'd gotten a flat tire and Sam knew he had no choice but to pull off the mountain highway and into the tourist spot's parking lot.

As he safely maneuvered the car into a distant parking spot and shut Baby off, George couldn't help but thank her lucky stars.

"Motherfucker," Sam landed a punch on the steering wheel.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't you take this out on her!" Dean shouted angrily. "A car is only as good as its driver."

"Oh, you know what?! Yo--" Sam began but he was cut off by George's impatience.

"It doesn't matter, stop fighting!" Her tone was authoritative. "We're here and we aren't going anywhere anytime soon. So, why don't you boys go be hunters while I put the spare on the car? I'll be preoccupied with the car, it'll give you a chance to gather some intel on Jack, and by the time you come out you'll be able to take me to a motel--Not like that, Dean." She cut him off when she saw a smart ass expression burst onto his face at her words.

"You can change a tire?" He asked skeptically instead.

"Yes, Dean, I can change a tire. Ya know, women can also vote and take birth control now, too!"

"No, I know women can, I'm asking: can you?"

She shoved him gently and opened her car door, ordering, "just get out and show me where the spare is!" When she exited, a grateful shiver ran through her at the piercingly crisp Oregon climate. She was thankful for the relief from her earlier panic sweating.

Sam and Dean both exchanged identical "I-don't-like-this" looks before getting out of the car after her and popping the trunk. Dean lifted the trunk and then grabbed the false bottom that held some of their weaponry, exposing the spare and equipment underneath.

"OK, here's the jack and the lug wrench," he handed her the two tools and then reached back in for the tire. "Lemme pull the spare out for you."

"Stop wasting time, I can pull a tire out of a trunk."

"No, really, it's probably going to take one person just to hold the weapons up." Sam gently nudged her out of the way and leaned in to grab the spare while Dean held up the armory. Sam set it down next to the flat and then shoved the jack into position underneath the car with ease.

"Hey, knock it off. I told you I can change a tire," She grabbed Sam's wrist and tugged him back from the car, gently shoving him and Dean toward the visitor center and gift shop. "Now go! Go find out what you can about Jack. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back." Sam and Dean exchanged nervous looks, hesitating. "I'll be fine. Go. Bring me back some salt-water taffy!" She joked, trying to distract them.

"Wait," Dean walked back over and flipped back down the weapons shelf in the trunk and pulled a 17" bowing knife from some hidden pocket. Holding it out to her hilt first, he said, "The biggest knife we have. Don't hurt yourself."

"Jesus," She gulped. "OK. That's… big." She took it from his outstretched hand, nodding apprehensively, trying to psych herself up should she need to use it.

"I get that a lot." As Dean winked, George let out a small laugh and brandished the sheathed knife at him, faux menacingly.

Sam took a step towards her and pointed his hands at her in prayer position, "Hey, the second you get the spare on, you get in that car, lock all the doors, and watch for us, OK? Don't leave the car for any reason. Promise?" Now he was pleading with her.

"What if I have to pee?" She joked half-heartedly, starting to feel nervous and selfishly not wanting him to go.

"You could always try using that empty Pepsi bottle you had your eye on the other day," Sam cracked a small smile.

"Don't. Don't do that." Dean interjected in a serious tone. "Let's go, Sammy," Dean had to pull Sam away with a rough tug and the brothers headed for the gift shop while George checked that the jack was in place and began wrenching it up.

When she finally finished changing the tire about an hour later, she was sweating again and even more grateful for the nice, cool outside air. She lowered the car to the ground, then picked up the jack and lug wrench, placing them in the trunk. When she turned around to grab the flat, a beautiful woman with long dark brown hair was standing practically where George had just been standing herself.

"Jesus!" George startled upon seeing her, reeling backwards into the trunk a little.

"No, I'm Duma. Are you with the Winchesters?" She got right to the point. George suddenly felt all the hairs on her arms stand on end; this woman definitely seemed familiar, but was she a demon or an angel? Or something else? George couldn't remember. She noticed that Duma was standing between her and the knife, which she'd stupidly left on the ground on the other side of the discarded tire.

Shit.

"The who?" George played dumb, trying to figure out what to do. The boys would be back any minute right? Duma was starting to give her a funny look, like she was studying her.

"What…" Duma paused, squinting her eyes and looking her slowly up and down, "what are you?"

"Excuse me?" George replied, a little dumbstruck--not to mention offended--by the question. She slowly placed her hand casually on the lip of the open trunk. She tried to dart her eyes down imperceptibly to where her hand was, searching for any weapons she might be able to grab. Duma started to slowly step closer to her, seemingly not noticing George's fingers moving toward the 3" tactical blade strapped just within reach.

"What are you?" Duma reached for her and George whipped the knife out of its holster, slicing it at her and causing her to jump back.

The little tourist shop was surprisingly busy. As Officers Page and Plant waited patiently to speak with the manager they'd asked for going on 20 minutes ago, Dean watched Sam closely.

"Not in the mood," George said, swiping at her again and taking a confident step forward as Duma retreated. "Now back off." George didn't notice the nameless angel minion that had appeared behind her and never saw the cosmic knockout coming.

-----

Finally Sam noticed and raised a perturbed eyebrow, "What?"

Dean smiled knowingly and shook his head, "Nothing."

"Good, then keep your eyes to yourself," Sam sneered at him. He was reeling from his last conversation with George. Despite his earlier convincing, he was now nearly positive she was the woman from his dream and it wasn't anything he wanted to discuss with Dean. Though, he felt like his brother could see the scarlet letter on his chest and it was putting him on edge.

Just then an aged, grey haired black man appeared at the counter and waved them over. He was tall with a little more weight around the middle than the rest of him and just the slightest hint of wrinkles along the sides of his face, denoting that the wide, friendly smile he was giving them was a typical look for him.

Dean chuckled and muttered, "Ooh, smitten Sammy is salty," as they walked up to the counter and flashed their badges at the man. Sam narrowed his eyes, biting back his response to focus on the job at hand.

"Can I help you, Officers?" The wrinkle-faced man asked, eyes scanning the police badges curiously.

"We're looking for a missing person," Dean stated as Sam held up his phone with a picture of Jack for the man to see. "There's a chance he's in some real danger. Have you seen him?"

The man looked carefully at the photo and then shook his head apologetically, "No sir, I don't believe I have. But there's a separate shack for our walking tour tickets. Molly's been out there working the window all day. If he came through she'll know."

"Thank you, how do we--?" Sam asked quickly, putting his phone away.

"Just go back out the way you came, follow the wooden fence along to the left, and you'll see a path for the walking tour," The man pointed the way with a renewed, jovial smile and they thanked him.

Exiting out the door, the brothers followed the man's directions until they found the walking tour shack. Behind the plexiglass window was an older woman they could only describe as a redneck hippie. What they could see of her outfit was jean overalls and a cotton tie-dye shirt. She had the tanned leathery skin of a woman who spent her life either working in or enjoying the outdoors, her bleach blonde hair was hair sprayed to heaven, had dark black roots, and her teeth were a muddy shade of smoker yellow. On the tip of her nose sat a pair of small, round, purple tinted glasses attached to a beaded chain around her neck and her overalls were covered in an eccentric mishmash of flair that included the NRA and the Grateful Dead.

Dean gave a charming smile and began, "Officers Page and Plant. Molly, I presume?"

"Hello Gentlemen," She greeted happily with a wide, appreciative smile, removing her glasses from her nose and laying them against her chest. When they lifted up their badges she raised a brow, "Oh, 'Officers,' I see."

"Everyday of my life. How can I be of service?" She was sizing them both up carefully, appraising them.

"We're looking for someone," Dean repeated as Sam held the phone up for Molly to see. "Have it on good authority he might have gone through here. Any chance you've seen him?"

Molly reached up and grabbed her glasses again. Slipping them on quickly, she leaned closer to the glass and inspected the photo.

"Hard to say," She started, squinting her eyes a bit. "But there was a baby faced young man that came through with his sister a little bit ago. Could be the same guy, but my eyes just ain't what they used ta be."

"How long ago?" Dean asked seriously.

"Maybe an hour?"

"How did he seem?"

"Quiet and moody," Molly shrugged, "typical for your average young boy dragged here by their family. Didn't think much of it, honestly."

"What did his sister look like?"

"Shorter than him, but just as pale. Long brown hair, brown eyes I think? I'd say mid-twenties. She looked about as thrilled to be here as he did."

"Did they buy tickets?" Sam asked quickly.

"Sure did," Molly nodded. "Paid cash, asked for the fastest route to the wilderness trail." She picked up a map sitting in the display case in front of her, then grabbed a pen and drew out directions quickly, as though she'd done it a thousand times before. Handing the map through the small cutout in her window, she stated, "These are the directions I gave them."

"Thank you very much for your assistance, Molly," Sam said sincerely, grabbing the map and taking a few steps back, ready to head toward Jack.

"No problem, Officer," Molly said with a sweet smile, then turned to Dean and said, "Listen, I have a granddaughter you'd be perfect for." Dean raised an intrigued eyebrow, a charming smile appearing on his face as Molly reached up above the plexiglass and yanked a photo down from the shelf. Holding it out for Dean to see, she suggested, "Maybe the two of us can figure out a way to get her away from her no good, crank dealing boyfriend, eh?"

Initially interested, Dean moved closer to the photo and then wrenched back quickly, "Molly… Uh… how old is--"

"Sheila. She'll be 17 in October. Ain't she a beauty?" Molly grinned proudly. Dean and Sam both tried to hold back grimaces.

"Oh, of course, I understand," Molly nodded quickly and grabbed up a pen and another map, scribbling a note and handing it through the plexiglass. "Here's her SnapChat. She's always looking for new friends!"

"Well, she certainly takes after her grandmother, doesn't she?" Was all Dean could think to say. Luckily Molly was clearly flattered and he added quickly, "But, uh, we're on official police business right now, so I can't real--"

Dean, masking his horror like a pro, took the glossy, folded piece of evidence and nodded, "Thanks, Molly. You've been a real help."

"Anything for you, Officer!" She called after them as he took a few steps to catch up with Sam and the two of them began heading down the trail.

After tossing Dean's map in the first trash can they could find out of eye-shot of Molly, they followed Sam's map for about a mile along the trail before coming to a split. The two of them looked first left then right. The left path went straight around the mountain, the right path wound up the mountain in a zigzag pattern.

Sam checked the map again, "OK, she directed them this way," he pointed toward the left.

"Hold on," Dean said, having turned around. He was now facing about 90 degrees to the left of the left path. "You see this?" Sam turned to look and saw a line in the surrounding ground ivy that looked like a man made path. It clearly wasn't as used as the other two and it wasn't on the map.

"What about it? Molly sai-"

"Look," Dean instructed, pointing into the forest. As Sam scanned the area Dean was pointing at, Dean started slowly following the small, easily missable path. He followed him, still not seeing anything of interest, and they walked about 40 feet before Sam finally noticed a patch of dark green that looked decidedly unnatural against the normal foliage.

As they got closer it became clear that what they were seeing was a dark green nylon winter coat. The coat was attached to a body that was crumpled on its side, as though tossed into the vegetation in a hasty effort to hide it. Drawing their weapons, they approached carefully. Dean got there first, finding a small, fair skinned, brown haired woman.

"Jack's 'sister'?" Dean asked bending down to place two fingers on the young woman's neck, though she was very clearly dead.

"That's Tilly!" Sam said sharply, finally catching up.

"You mean, it was Tilly," Dean looked at him curiously.

Sam grimaced and explained, "Another refugee. She's been training with us. I thought she was on a Wraith hunt with Steiner and Green."

"So, what's she doing here?" Dean asked, standing up straight again.

"And why did Jack come with her? They hardly know each other." The two of them quickly swept the immediate area for any clues but found nothing more. Moving her body farther out of sight for the time being, they then continued cautiously forward along the path.

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