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nobodysdaydreams · 8 months

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My Reaction to Episodes 7-10 of Wolf 359 (But first, an update on my reactions for those who are curious...)

Thank you to everyone for your enthusiasm. I wasn't expecting this much excitement for my reactions/liveblogs, but I love it! 🥰

Shoutout to @commsroom for sending me a list of episodes with post credit scenes which include ep 5 cigarette candy, ep 37 overture, and ep 43 persuasion. Thanks Comms Room!

I did go back and listen to the post credits scene for episode 5 and OH MY GOSH HILBERT. WHAT. What. Why. Why? like dude. You're in space! Of all the places to be conducting highly dangerous and deadly and unethical experiments on human test subjects. I've insulted Curtain (tmbs) and Uncle Andrew (narnia) a lot on this blog but I gotta give them credit: at least neither of them were stupid enough to do their experiments in space. Though in Andrew's case, I think that's mostly because he couldn't get to space in 1900s London even if he wanted to.

I currently have Wolf359 Tags blocked to avoid spoilers and will try my best to react blindly.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs

Anyway on to the actual reactions. I did not intend on feeling ill today, but while I take a late lunch break, perhaps I can give a few episodes a listen.

Episode 7:

Interesting that the AI has her own emotions and can fight with them. I wonder what information she's withholding from the captain?

Wow Hilbert should have been a professional chess player instead. I think that would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

Oh hush up Hilbert I don't trust you. Um...why do I think that Specimen 34 might have indoctrinated Hilbert in his (her? its? their????) cult?

Eiffel. DO NOT TELL HIM WHERE THE FERTILIZER IS!

Hopefully that lie will buy a little time.

"Soon you will be allowed to surrender to the growth of your biological superior" ... you know, for a "biologically superior" plant, it might want to try being a tad less ominous.

Mincowski, I like you, and I agree thus far, but listen. Hilbert is worshiping a plant now. This is a huge crisis. What if he uses it to cheat at chess?

Hera and Mincowski. Please. I think this is important. I think Hera needs to be more honest, at least for my sake, because I want the tea.

...Seed of life? ...THE OPPRESSOR? What. who is the oppressor?

Eiffel. Please just get to the point. 👏 Hilbert. 👏 Is. 👏 Worshipping. 👏 A. 👏 Plant. 👏

✨Maybe you should do something✨

"Audrey 2 territory" THERE IS A LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS REFERENCE! I KNEW IT!

Oh they're calling him a plant worshipper now. Finally, acknowledging it for what it is.

Oh dear. He's back.

THE BLESSED ETERNAL?

Wait. That can't be the end. The crew was gonna watch Home Alone 2!

Episode 8:

Huh. This is a cool title. "Box953", which is 359 backwards. Hm. You also get 365 if you scramble the numbers and rotate the 9.

Okay. No more about Commander Mincowski. What happened to the plant, oh I'm sorry, "the blessed eternal". That's such a long name. Can I just call him Percival? Percival the plant. Percy for short.

Talent show???

I do not want to know what Dr. Hilbert's talent is. Creating plant monsters?

Yeah. It is scary that you agree with Hilbert. Again, did I skip an episode??? Where did the plant go??? Where is Percy?

How often has Hilbert been knocking people out? I don't like this.

AND WHERE DID PERCY GO?

I'm sorry. You have a room with HUNDREDS of crates that you've never been into? Oh. Godard Futuristics? Corporate sponsor? I sense some backstory.

...Russian dolls???

(wait...Garrison...???)

Oh no eyes, don't like that. That's weird.

Box 239...paper? Santa letters??

Box 56...canon? Yeah I agree what is all this random stuff for?

Oh that's faster. A log that will tell what's in the boxes. 217 has Lego blocks? 300 has pieces for 3 full suits of armor? Is this like an amazon delivery ship?

"Please handle with a vague feeling of existential dread" always a great thing to read.

Box 953- reserved for Douglas Eiffel. Don't open.

What does that mean?

Hilbert. You were worshipping a plant. The commander singing is not a crisis. Oh, pirate costumes! This is shaping up to be quite the performance!

Does everyone else get a box too? And how is a room with hundreds of boxes go unnoticed after a year and a half. Are the boxes not in order?

Hilbert. I would also fire a shot past your head. The captain needs her ice cream! This insubordination will not stand.

Hilbert doesn't scream for ice cream. Hilbert only screams for the blessed eternal.

Oh and apparently ice cream too. Prioritizes.

And where is Hera? Oh Hera is here? Proud of her for getting into theater.

1,000 and something crates?

Oh. The errors and access denies hurt Hera? That's awful.

Wow. That's a big box.

"Keep closed at all times". Very ominous. Don't like the cold.

HUMMING FROM INSIDE THE BOX? That sounds like a heartbeat? Don't like that. Don't like it at all.

Yeah Eiffel. You can go. You can go and figure out why nothing on the ship makes sense.

Okay. Box open. Don't like those noises.

...

Oh good he's back. ugh we still don't get to know about the box?

Box 56? OH THE CANON. OH BOY.

WAIT. NO. NO. PLEASE TELL ME WE DIDN'T LOSE THE BOXES. PLEASE. Wait. THEY DID? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO....

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.............................................................................................................................

Hilbert this was the ONE TIME you could have used your evil science talents for good you had ONE JOB.

There...there was a heartbeat in there. It scared me, and it could have been another evil plant, but...but what if it was a little friend? What if they killed him 🥺?

I wanted to know too Eiffel. I want to know too. This is so sad.

What were the boxes for? Why did Douglas have his own? Why couldn't Hera access it?

Well this was frustrating. I hope you all enjoyed it though.

Episode 9:

Yeah Eiffel. Space is dangerous. Maybe you should all just go home. After all, why do you have to stay here?

Yes please define safe. I don't think that's a simple question. I still wanna know about the blessed plant Percy. And the box.

Canaveral? Command? ...okay backstory the command center stopped giving them calls...I feel like they should have questioned that a bit more...

"The golden rose is ready for melting. Proceed with designation alpha. Beware 5: The empty man has awoken."

Nope. Turn around. Go home. Clearly something nefarious is a foot and WHO OR WHAT IS THE EMPTY MAN? Well, there are only two men on this ship that we know of, plus one woman and an AI. Oh, and about a thousand mysterious boxes which could contain alien life capable of surviving in space that just got launched into space, so I suppose one ought to account for that. Oh and the evil plant monster that seems to show up whenever the crew wants to avoid each other.

Godard futuristics again. Yeah they sure do have some explaining to do. TWO WEEKS TO GET A MESSAGE TO EARTH?

TWO WEEKS TO TELL PEOPLE YOU'RE IN DANGER?

Don't like that.

Don't like Hilbert's response either. He said "what? why?" not "no, why?". If the answer is no, just say no.

Oh more info!

"The andromedas are broken. The northern light should be reversed. Alert 4: The empty man approaches."

Um. What do the numbers mean? And are they telling 5 to beware of the empty man, or someone else to beware because 5 is the empty man?

"The frozen pages are blank. Decide what to do with the time that is given to you. Emergency 3: The empty man hungers."

...

Okay. So it looks like the numbers might be an extremely fast countdown.

...

Well at least there haven't been any more messages.

A lockdown is nice. Unless the monster is already inside.

Good idea: don't give Hilbert a gun.

Yep. there comes another message Eiffel. You had to tempt fate...oh shut up Hilbert I don't want to agree with you.

"The broken flower is in the vase. Don't listen to your eyes. Danger 2: The empty man sees you."

Maybe the empty man took the eyes from the Russian dolls.

OH MR. PRECIVAL PLANT AKA THE BLESSED ETERNAL IS STILL HERE????

Why. Why were they having a talent show? Should capturing and killing the plant not be priority one?

"There's no way out. There's no way out. But there is a way in. Danger 1: The empty man shall knock."

Okay so this is the second message with danger. It's an alert and level system. Beware, Alert, Emergency, Danger, with levels 1-5, with 1 being the worst. Okay.

...weird that they are warning them, and yet they seem to know exactly what the empty man is going to do. That doesn't really make sense.

Oh do NOT like that sound.

"0: The empty man is with you. Extreme Danger 0: The empty man is with you. Extreme Danger."

Is...are they the empty man? Or is the empty man...

"The proceeding six pulse beacon relays that you have received have been part of a psychological experiment. Please disregard the content of these messages and return to regular operational activities as soon as possible. Please report and clearly label any unusual crew behavior, deviation from protocol, or undue lack of decorum that resulted due to the transmission of these messages."

...

Sounds exactly like what the empty man would say.

Suspicious.

Also if the "empty man" was with them...and apparently they can't trust their eyes...then theoretically, the seventh message might not say what they think it says. (Conspiracy theory????)

But my wild theories aside, this was extremely unethical. And I think we ALL know who would call that an experiment. HILBERT.

Wait Douglas used to work at pizza hut? Now he works in space? Uh, congrats on the promotion I guess.

Episode 10:

Oh Nitrogen tanks. Eiffel...I think you might have messed up...

✨Yessssssssssss✨

And...boom goes the Nitrogen!

"One of these days I'll actually kill you" I hope you don't. You two need to team up against Hilbert and his crazy-crazy experiments.

Wait...did they just discover a secret room? ONE HERA CAN'T EVEN SEE?

...so they're all working with limited information...

How did they hide such a huge room? Wouldn't they need to account for that while flying through space.

Dark medical lab. Well. That could be where Percy is hiding out.

GENETIC EXPERIMENTS ON SPIDERS TO MAKE THEM BIGGER?

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Don't like it. I agree. Why wall it up?

Elia Selburg? I can't spell but let's see. "mixed results...specimen growth and development promising but extremely high levels of toxicity unintended side effect. Contact with live specimens extremely dangerous as shown with recent exposure trial. Captain Lovelace has ordered termination..."

Hold on. Lovelace? I've heard that name, I've seen that name before I blocked the tags I think.

Why wall it up? PROBABLY FOR YOUR SAFETY.

Maybe it was walled up to keep something in!

Oh no. Looks like Hera agrees with me.

"What has it been eating?"

Probably the other spiders.

Well Eiffel's done for once again. He was a good character while he lasted. 🫡

Why would you not tell the crew about the secret lab with dangerous spiders? Tell them so they know to keep it walled up! WHO is keeping all these secrets and WHY are they keeping all the secrets?

The sneeze of death. Put your finger under your nose. That will do it.

Nice of him to leave Hera in his will.

Aw the spider is cuddling for warmth. Eiffel has a little friend. A poisonous, deadly friend who has killed and will kill again.

Oh no he snapped.

...but was that the only spider...????

At least Eiffel is okay. And it does look like it was just the one...

...I hope they're right. If they really wanted to be terrifying they could have had it be a pregnant spider. You kill one of those things and BAM! All the baby spiders, hundreds of thousands everywhere. Everywhere. Don't ask how I know this. You don't want to know.

Oh...archives and notebooks. Interesting. I hope we get a chance to look through those.

Well I have actual work I need to try to go but this has been fun. I hope I get some more answers soon, but I am enjoying the mysteries. Thanks everyone for reading, and have a great day!

#bods wolf359 reactions #wolf 359 #wolf359 #w359 #wolf359 reaction #Wolf359 liveblog

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

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“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?” She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

#to lovers fic challenge #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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215-luv · 3 years

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A LIST OF WEBSITES AND LINKS SO YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

HOW TO HELP UKRAINE: INFO & WAYS TO HELP , HELP FOR UKRAINE

HOW TO HELP PALESTINE: FREE PALESTINE , SAVE PALESTINE

HELP WOMEN IN IRAN

CLICK ON THE BUTTON ONCE DAILY TO HELP AND SUPPORT ALL THE CAUSES IN THE MIDDLE EAST FOR FREE

CLICK ON THE BUTTON ONCE DAILY TO HELP THE PALESTINIAN PEOPLE FOR FREE

WE ARE THE CHANGE

CURRENT INTERNATIONAL ISSUES

SAVE EARTH

WAYS TO HELP RESOURCES

#masterlist

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mosswillow · 3 years

Text

Iced Coffee - Dark!Stephen Strange x Reader.

Summary:

You met Stephen Strange your last year of medical school. He was godlike and you were infatuated. You liked him and in return he humiliated you. Years later you were over it; made a career for yourself.

He saw you again, remembered you, wanted you. He was going to show you that he had changed, win you over. You would be his and he would protect you forever, he just had to prove himself.

Series Warnings:

18+ adult content, Dark, Rape/noncon, obsessive behavior, stalking, doctor/medical themes, mild/moderate doctor kink, needles (chapter one, not sex related), violence, abuse, kidnapping, forced marriage, smut, escape attempt, dirty talk (my best attempt at least).

Potential warnings, a non-exhaustive list: Oral, praise kink, mild degradation (Will not include whore or slut)

You can join the tag list here.

A/N: Now that I’ve been writing for a few months I’m experimenting with different styles. If you’ve read my other stuff lmk what you think (ask, comment, message, whatever.)

Thank you to the unnamed requester and @couldntbedamned for this request. 🖤

By Clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over 18 and understand that this content is mature and potentially triggering.

CHAPTER 1

Stephen was the most brilliant man you had ever met. School was a joke to him, he easily outperformed everyone no matter the subject. He was confident, lived his life with this air of superiority, and you were obsessed. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, sat next to him in class, helped him when he asked. He was nice to you too, he was an asshole almost all the time but when he talked to you it was gentle, respectful.

It was October third when it happened, the date would forever be burned in your memory. He turned to you and asked you the date.

“It’s october third,” you smiled.

He thanked you and touched his hand to your arm and you felt a spark, you were sure he felt it too.

But he didn’t feel it, you were so very wrong.

You found out just how wrong you were that evening in the worst possible way. It was so unexpected, so hurtful. You walked into the small coffee shop you and your friends frequented and saw them all in the corner, socializing. A stab of pain struck you in the chest; nobody invited you. Maybe you should have backed away, recognized you weren’t wanted but you heard your name. You thought they had seen you, called you over.

They hadn’t seen you though, weren’t talking to you.

They were talking about you.

“Poor thing, thinks she has a chance with me,” you heard Stephen laugh.

You walked behind him, tears welling in your eyes and someone nudged him awkwardly. He looked up and made eye contact with you. A tear fell down your face as you backed away from the group. It was like a nightmare, like looking down and seeing you were naked, but this wasn’t a dream. It was horrifyingly real.

“Pathetic,” you heard him say to the laughing group of people you called friends.

It broke you.

You spent the remainder of your time in school avoiding him and every friend who had been there. You poured yourself into your studies and came out of it stronger than before, like a phoenix being reborn - You were brand new, beautiful, powerful.

You became a doctor and scientist and a damned good one at that. But Stephen was always better. Every conference, every medical magazine, he was there; always at the top. You could never escape him.

Until his accident.

He was suddenly gone, you couldn't believe it. Dr. Stephen Strange, the most accomplished neurosurgeon, lost his hands. The shock wiped through the medical community, a travesty they said. It wasn’t a travesty to you though, It was almost uncomfortable how happy you were at his downfall. It felt so freeing to see the great and mighty Doctor Strange fall so far, for your bully to lose the thing that was most precious to them. He became irrelevant, dropped from magazines and conferences and disappeared without a trace. You were truly content for the first time in your life. You were free.

Stephen flexed his fingers and smiled. It was a long road to recovery but he did it, he was a neurosurgeon again and even better now. He was godlike, able to perform surgeries that he could only dream of before. He wasn’t just going to get his life back, he would flourish, go above and beyond his already impressive list of accomplishments, he would dominate.

He walked into the conference full of confidence, an arrogant smile plastered on his face. The gasps and stares made him stand even straighter, walk with even more purpose. He always loved being the center of attention, it made him feel superior.

It was his addiction, to be special, better than everyone around him. The craving for greatness was a consequence of his birthright. He needed to be better because he was better. His brain was like a radiant flame, he shined brighter than everyone around him and he knew it.

“Stephen, good to see you,” a group of colleagues surrounded him, patting him on the back. He felt at home, this was where he belonged.

The auditorium started filling and he followed the group in, sitting in the back and opening his pamphlet. It wasn’t usually his type of lecture to listen to but he had time to kill before his next panel. The speaker, a specialist in infectious disease, worked at New York Hospital where he would start back on Monday. He closed his pamphlet and waited patiently for the presentation to start.

She walked onto the stage and his body tensed as he watched her prepare for her speech. Stephen’s brain was on fire, the attraction to this stranger like nothing he had ever felt. His thoughts turned less than appropriate as he stared at her ass. He saw no panty lines and couldn’t help but imagine what did or did not lie beneath the skirt's thin fabric. She wasn’t a conventionally attractive woman but that made her even more beautiful in his mind. She was perfect for him, a mix of everything he was physically attracted to in one person. Women had thrown themselves at him but he didn’t want any of them, he wanted her.

Then she started speaking and a new wave of attraction washed through him as her intelligence became apparent. Who was this woman? He rarely felt attraction like this, attraction that consumed onto his whole being. He needed to get to know her, needed to touch her, smell her hair, hold her hand. He was obsessed.

He didn’t even realize her presentation had ended until everyone started applauding. Stephen stood and clapped along. He watched her exit the stage and as he walked closer her face suddenly flashed into his memory. He knew her years ago in med school. She liked him, she followed him around like a puppy.

Excitement built as he approached her, but she gave him one look and her face fell into a grimace.

“Stephen Strange,” He held his hand out.

Her reply was cold, “We went to school together,” she spit, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“Yes, we did, didn’t we. I’m very interested in what you’re working on. Maybe we could get together, have dinner?”

“No,” she turned and walked away from him.

“Hey,” He yelled at her, but she kept walking, giving no acknowledgement of his obvious frustration.

It didn’t take him long to catch up, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder pulling her around to face him.

“What is this hostility about?” He asked.

Her body went rigid and she wrenched her shoulder out of his hand, “Poor thing, thinks she has a chance with me,” She said through gritted teeth.

He remembered in that moment what had happened, how he used her for short lived friendships.

“I’m not that person anymore, I’m sorry, let me show you,” be begged.

“You called me pathetic,” She snarled.

“It was so long ago, please.”

She stood up tall and leaned into him. “Pathetic,” she called him before walking away again.

He stood there dazed, never having been discarded so callously. He couldn't leave it like this, he would show her he had changed and she would forgive him. He was determined. He was the great Doctor Strange and he could do anything.

A sob took over your body as you read the little piece of paper. It was over, no more money for research. The conference was your last hope to find funding and you didn’t succeed. You looked at a little blue vial and picked it up. It was a bad idea, you knew it was, but this medicine could help so many people. If you didn’t try it right then you may have never known if it worked or not. You removed your jacket, swabbed your arm and filled a syringe. A tear fell down your cheek as you depressed the plunger.

It immediately started burning, beginning in your arm and flowing throughout your veins until you were screaming in pain. The room spun around and your vision started to blur. You stood and took a few shaky steps before falling to the ground and curling into a ball. Quiet whimpers escaped your lips as you struggled not to pass out from the pain.

A knock rang through your ears and you lifted your head slightly.

“Hey, it’s me,” called a voice from the other side of the door.

Stephen, of course he would show up at the worst moment possible. You were in so much pain and part of you wanted to ask for help but you couldn’t. If anyone found out you could lose your licence and Stephen was someone you were sure would turn you in.

“It’s not a good time,” you yelled.

“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior, I was an asshole but I’ve changed. I really have.”

“Go Away Stephen.”

The doorknob jiggled and you held your breath. You had locked it, you were sure you had.

“Hey, I’m getting worried, open the door,” he demanded.

“I’m sad, ok, lost funding for my research. I don’t want you to see me cry. Happy? If you’ve actually changed you’ll leave!” you put your hand over your mouth to cover a groan, the exhaustion of talking having caused intense pain in your lungs.

“Oh, um, sorry to bother you,” he murmured.

You sighed in relief as the sound of his footsteps disappeared and then hugged your aching body, shivering and crying softly as excruciating pain moved around. It suddenly felt like you had been thrown in a freezer. It Was so cold, why were you so cold?

You shivered and cried on the floor for hours until sleep finally took you, giving a slight respite from the worst day of your life.

Series master list ~ Next Chapter

#dark!stephen strange #stephen strange x you #Stephen strange x reader #dark!stephen strange x reader #dark fic #dark marvel #dark!mcu

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

new year’s day ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 3,960 words

warnings — swearing, mentions of active sex life, SMUT, degradation, sir kink, choking, oral smut (receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (pls use protection), slapping, name calling, drinking champagne off of one’s body, fluff at the end?? porn without plot lol

pairing — andy barber x fem!reader

a/n — HAPPY NEW YEAR! im still high on my andy feels so yeah,, lmk what yoou think!

masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell my eyes hurt,” Y/N groaned out as she rubbed her palms on her eyelids, as if she was massaging the stress away. Rose could only chuckle at her friend’s distress, “Well I did warn you about how you shouldn't have gone to work today; you deserve to take a break once in a while you know?”

Cracking her knuckles once she was done rubbing her eyes, Y/N retorted, “Well it’s not like I had any New Year’s Eve plans so I decided why not go to work?” As she continued to torment her eyes with the light emitted from her desktop. Being her only real friend at the workplace, Rose took it as a responsibility to look after her; for she knew how she wasn’t really close with her family and her other closest friends were on the different side of the country. “Hey, I invited you to that party me and Agnes are going to!”

Tearing her straining eyes away from the screen, Y/N gave the brunette a pointed look, “You mean to say you invited me to party where I don’t know anyone but you and your girlfriend; which definitely guarantees that you’ll both leave me alone so you can fuck.”

Rose didn’t find it in herself to deny her allegation or defend her and her girlfriend’s active sex life; instead she could only give her a sheepish look as she joked, “Guess you’ve been spending too much time with Mr. Barber since you’re incredible at drawing conclusions and noticing patterns huh?” Seeing how much time she had spent with the mentioned lawyer over the past year, Y/N couldn’t help but nod and agree with her.

The soft chime of Rose's Favorite song rang and a cocky, “See! Can’t even wait an hour before you two get to be together,” was quickly being hushed by her friend. “Okay you have a point, we have a high sex drive — but can you blame us? And I need to leave early, stupid bitch burnt herself as she was baking.”

Chuckling without tearing her eyes away from the documents in front of her, Y/N greeted, “Yeah, yeah; don’t need to rub it in. Happy New Year’s Eve, babe.” Before heading to Mr. Barber’s office to sweetly ask to leave early, Rose went to where Y/N was seated and let their cheeks touch as their way of bidding adieu.

Andy was more than generous to allow Rose to leave the office early, “Go ahead and enjoy, you deserve it for being one of the few ones who chose to come in today,” He told her smiling form. Once she left his office, he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his button down shirt and let out a loud groan. Usually, this time last year he would be rushing to go home — if ever his work demanded his presence — in order to celebrate the New Year’s with his family. But now as he mourns the family he once had and lost it as his son was brutally killed by his ex-wife that had gone insane in disbelieving her son’s innocence was now serving prison for her crimes, he had nowhere to be.

After a couple of hours filled with silence and burying his head with paperwork, Andy noticed how there was a soft, melodious hymn coming from the other side of the office. The lawyer wasn’t necessarily alarmed, but he was curious about who was left working since there had only been 7 other people who decided to come in to work today; and to his knowledge they should have left by now.

He decided to check out who was left — but it really was an excuse to stretch his long, lean legs as he felt them cramping up a bit from being seated for too long — and was surprised to see the most diligent employee he’s ever met in his years of practicing law, “Ms. Y/N, what are you still doing here?”

Hearing his deep voice snapped her out of her concentration; seeing her boss in his less than organized state had her taken aback, “Oh Mr. Barber, I’m just doing some work on the Richards case.” Looking at the watch on his left wrist, he took note how it was a mere 15 minutes before the new year dawned on them. “No plans for the new year then?”

Deciding to test the waters she cracked a joke, “Are you talking about the holiday or the actual year? Because I have no plans for both.”Covering up her remark with a nervous chuckle, she was glad to see the older man wrinkle his eyes as he laughed out loud, “Well that makes the two of us; why don’t we grab a drink in my office?”

Eyes going wide and gasping silently, Y/N was pleasantly surprised at his offer but nevertheless nodded in agreement. Quickly shutting off her desktop, she moved out of her chair and decided to leave her footwear and floral kimono by her desk as she somewhat felt restricted by the light cloth. As she entered his post, she settled herself on the gray sofa he had placed near the office’s wall. Grabbing a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, Andy sat beside her then poured them a drink.

“Never pegged you as a champagne guy, Mr. Barber,” She thanked him as he handed her a glass which she took a sip of; letting out a small moan of appreciation at the taste, the sound causing Andy to cross his right leg on top of the left in an effort to conceal his erection. “Please, call me Andy,” He cleared his throat as he took a sip of the liquor, “And whiskey and bourbon are my usual choices of poison; but since it’s the New Year, figured this was more appropriate.”

Y/N surprised the man beside her by drinking all of the champagne in one go and placed the now empty glass on the coffee table in front of them before turning to his gobsmacked expression and giggled, “Sorry, really need that one.” With his hooded eyes watching her intently, he drank some of his before answering, “Don’t be Y/N, it was quite a show.”

She could feel her wetness dampen the panties she wore with how good her name sounded as it left his lips, “Don’t think I ever heard you call me by my first name before.” Worried he crossed the line he was quick to fumble out an apology; but quickly stopped as he felt her hand on his thigh, “It’s okay, I’m not mad or anything. I really like it, actually,” She trailed off once she noticed how he seemed to have let out a quiet, but aroused purr. Tilting her head to the side with an amused expression plastered on her face, “You alright, Andy?”

Years of practicing law and appearing in courtrooms taught him not to lose composure; but with a simple touch and mention of his name had Andy forgetting how to remain calm and collected. But can you fucking blame him when the girl who walks around with so much grace and confidence — who also happens to be the subject of his filthy fantasies — is so close to him that he can almost feel her warmth piercing through his long-sleeved shirt. In that moment, he wasn’t sure if it was a wise or dumb decision to discard his suit jacket, but as their arms touched and he felt a surge of electricity run through his veins, he thought of himself as a fucking genius.

“I am, yeah,” Deciding to test the waters, he grabbed her hand that rested on her thigh and intertwined their fingers together; when she made no attempts at removing her hand from his he smirked, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but something tells me you want more than just this champagne I offered.”

Feeling her inhibitions disappear, she gave him a smirk of her own as she untangled her hands from his, “Well, I do want some more champagne,” Her finger was now tracing his lips as she moved to sit closer until she was now straddling his lap, “Maybe taste it from your lips?”

Silently, Andy brought the glass to his lips and downed the remaining sparkling drink; his free hand settled itself on the back of her neck, pulling her close to him until her lips touched his. As he bit her bottom lip, she opened her mouth and moaned out loud as she felt the alcoholic beverage enter her mouth. Both her hands caressed his bearded cheek as she drank up every last drop that he offered her. Groaning out loud when his mouth was now devoid of the drink, he let his tongue enter her mouth and asserted his dominance; something she willingly conceded to him. His hand on her neck traveled lower and rested on her bum, squeezing the soft flesh which emitted more moans from her.

“Been dreaming about this for so long,” His staff silently, mindlessly let out as she kissed him desperately. “Is that so?” He asked once he broke away their kiss, Y/N whined at the loss of his lips and confused with his question. Chuckling at her groggy state he squeezed both her cheeks with one hand, forcing her to focus on him and answer his question, “You said you’ve been dreaming about this, baby. Is that what you daydream about at work? Me fucking you so hard your dumb brain can’t even think straight?”

Letting out a pathetic whine, she could only nod her head enthusiastically, “Want that so fucking bad, sir.” He felt his cock harden even more at the title she called him; but he wasn’t even done with teasing her yet. “And that fantasy will come true; but first, stand up and strip for me, baby,” With a soft smack on her cheek, she stood up quickly and unzipped her dress. Andy watched her present her body for him as he poured another glass for himself.

Resting on the arm rest was the hand with the sparkling champagne, while the other was palming his erection as watched her push her dress down to the floor. “No bra? Just that poor excuse of underwear?” He moaned out as he observed the fabric that parts at the middle, teasing the paradise that awaits for his cock.

Lowering her gaze, as if bashful, at his filthy remarks before resuming her previous position of sitting on his lap with her hands moving to unbutton his button down. “Such an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue at her; to which she pouted as she stared at him with want written on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Ride my thigh like the slut you are, baby,” He commanded her without even thinking about it, which turned her on even more. Situating herself on his thick, lean thigh she moaned out loud as the fabric of her thong added even more friction. She began to ride him with slow but sharp movements, throwing her head back when she felt her wetness taint the fabric of his slacks, “How does it feel, baby?”

“Good, so good,” Her broken cries turned him on even more as he sipped on the champagne, enjoying the tingle it left on his tongue. “Do you trust me, baby?” Surprised at his question, she opened her eyes to look at him, her hip movements not faltering one bit. Upon seeing how serious he was she answered, “I do, Andy. I trust you.”

With a smirk, he then tipped the glass just above her breasts, allowing the liquid to run from her collarbones and down to her breasts. Gasping out loud when Andy runs his tongue on her skin, following the trail that the champagne took, “Don’t stop grinding on me, love,” He reminded her as his lips drank the liquid that landed on her nipple — subsequently sucking on the pebble-like flesh. Seeking purchase on his dark hair, Y/N continued rubbing herself on his thigh — his assault on her breast encouraging her to ride him even harder and faster.

“Time to drink some more,” Andy huskily spoke out as he poured some more of the beverage on her opposite breast causing the girl to stiffen a bit as she was taken aback by the sudden coolness on her breast. His tongue flattened against her skin, now more focused on kissing every inch of her skin instead of drinking up the liquor. His hand held her breast firmly, raising it a bit so he could suck on it and slurp the booze.

“Fuck, the champagne tastes even incredible on you, baby,” HIid praise got her flustered and she could only whine as she felt herself getting closer. “I’m so close, sir. Can I cum, please?” She fluttered her eyes at him sweetly, hoping he’d show her mercy; but his wicked smile and wink got her thinking she’d be shown the opposite of it. “Not yet, baby,” He was quick to shut her wails up with a smack on her breast, “Sit down on the sofa, baby.”

Even though she denied him her release, she followed his orders without a complaint — working with him provided her a clear picture of what happens when you don’t follow Andy’s orders, and it didn’t end well for everyone involved. As she sat down, she watched as the lawyer placed his glass on the table and reached for the bottle; poured some on her pussy. Y/N watched closely as Andy licked her clit, down to her hole. Without tearing his eyes away from hers, he inserted his tongue in her and tried to reach as far as his long tongue can go. “So good, Andy,” She grabbed onto his hair, pushing his face closer to her. The man was quick to smack her thigh, causing her to press her thighs more into his frame, “You know what to call me,” He warned.

“Sir,” She panted out, “Feel so good, sir.” Pleased with that, he rewarded her by rubbing his right thumb on her clit, making her moan even louder. Loving her blissed out sounds of pleasure, Andy began licking her ferociously; he drank up all of the champagne he poured and all the juices she had to provide. He inserted his left pointer and middle finger in her, taking her aback with the sudden simulation. Her thighs were shaking with how good he was making her feel, too weak to even grab onto his hair and her arms were now limp on her sides, “Sir, please! I’m so fucking close, please let me cum.”

Without tearing his mouth and hands from her he replied, “Then cum on my fucking tongue, you slut,” The vibrations adding more to the pleasure she felt. After a few more thrusts of his fingers, kitten licks of his tongue, she felt apart with a scream. Her thighs wrapped themselves around his shoulders, squeezing him so tight that she felt his beard tickle her delicate skin. Andy pulled out his fingers that were in her, replacing them with his tongue so he can gather all of her juices and drink some of them in. “You taste like fucking heaven, baby,” He groaned as he parted from her pussy, his fingers pushing her juices back inside her so he could use it as lube.

“Wanna kiss you, sir,” Her fingers touched the patch of facial hair above his lips, surprised with how it had her juices. Andy complied, giving her a brief, but sweet kiss. “Want you on your hands and knees, baby. Hold on to the back of the sofa okay?” Y/N couldn’t help but feel mushy with how gentle he was bossing her around — when she knew his next actions would be far from gentle.

Holding on to the back of the sofa, she used it to steady herself on her knees, bending slightly so she could arch her back to accentuate her ass. Andy quickly discarded his clothes before rubbing her pussy again and pushed some of her juices in, before entering in her pussy in one go. His forehead rested on her back as he groaned out, “Fuck baby you’re so tight. Been a while huh?” Anchoring himself on her hips, he slid in and out of her at a steady pace.

Y/N moaned out loud as she felt the back of her thighs meet Andy’s hips; he was thrusting into her with no remorse. Her hand travelled to her breast, switching between pinching the nipple or pulling on it. Grabbing her hair with one hand, the bearded man pulled her so her back was pressed firmly against his chest. You’d think that this would give Andy a difficult time to rut into her but it didn’t; instead it just made him drive his cock in her harder and faster, falling into a drum-like rhythm.

“Why are you fucking touching yourself, slut?” Feeling his breath on her ear turned her on more than she cared to admit and she couldn’t even string together a coherent response since the tip of his dick pushed into her g-spot, causing her to moan out loud. “You’re such a fucking mess that you can’t even think straight huh?”

Nodding pathetically was all the response Y/N could offer as she clawed on to Andy’s toned arms; the lawyer then decided to go all the way with his fun by wrapping his big hand around her neck, applying gentle pressure. “You don’t mind this do you, sweetheart?” Shaking her head no, Andy then smiled as he put more force on the sides of her neck as he rammed his cock in her until the tip of his cock repeatedly hit her bundle of nerves that made tears leave her eyes with how good everything felt. The other hand that wasn't wrapped around her throat then lowered itself on her clit, rubbing the hardened nub.

“If only you knew how hard you got me every time you came to work with a tight skirt or pants,” He breathed out against her ear, tickling her with his breath, “Giving me a perfect view of the shape of your ass,” And to emphasize his point he thrust so hard until his cock was all the way in and spanked her ass. “Walking around the office with so much fucking confidence,” He recalled the time wherein she called out an officemate for talking lewdly about her — that caused him to jerk one off in the office bathroom. “But now you’ve been reduced to a dumb cock hungry whore for me,” She wailed out in agreement as his hand squeezed her throat so tight to the point she was now gasping for breath as his other hand wrapped around her tit, loving the weight and feel of it on his hand, grabbing onto it to move it up and down his hand.

“Are you gonna cum again, baby? Gonna cum around my thick cock?” He could feel her walls clinging on to his cock even more, making it difficult to thrust in her but he was determined to keep on sliding his cock in and out. “Yes, so close, please let me cum,” She trailed off as he abandoned his hold on her tit and throat and returned to her hips so he could maneuver her and ram his cock swiftly and harder. “Cum then you, slut. Let me feel you milk my cock,” Was all the permission she needed before she dug her nails into his forearms as came with a scream, “Thank you, sir!”

Even as she was cumming, Andy thrust in and out of her; though his thrusts weren’t as powerful and quick. Once he felt her spasms die down, he slid all the way inside her and came with a groan. They both could feel his cock twitch as it released his load inside her, filling her up with his hot semen. Littering kisses on her back, Andy could feel his regular breathing return — as was hers.

Carefully, Andy pulled out of her, “Can you stand up for a bit, baby?” She nodded and stood up from her position, the lawyer guiding her to sit by the arm rests. Still stuck in her post-orgasm haze, she watched as he moved the coffee table away and transformed his sofa into a bed. Grabbing the spare bed sheet, blanket, and pillows he kept in the office — in case he had to spend the night in the office — he quickly made the bed before he helped Y/N to lay down with him, wrapping the blanket over their naked bodies.

“How you feeling?” It was amazing how he had a quick change of demeanor; Y/N was lazily tracing over Andy’s face with her finger, making the most out of this intimate moment. “Feel good, really good. Always wanted someone to fuck me the way you did.”

Her curt response had him chuckling, loving the way she was being open with him and the way she traced over his features. “Well I’m glad I fulfilled this fantasy of yours.”

Suddenly, Y/N felt small and insecure; was this a one time thing? Just something to release his frustrations and a fantasy of hers that's been fulfilled? Furrowing her eyebrows, she failed to mask her worry as she wondered, “So this is just a one time thing then?”

Hating what she just said, Andy kissed the wrinkle in between her eyebrows as he spoke, “I don’t want it to be. I really want to be with you; if you’ll have me, of course.” A small smile rested on her lips as her eyes brightened up, “I’d want that and you. You’re so amazing, Andy. I admire your strength, resilience, and determination. For someone who could easily give up in life you choose to carry on and look forward to what the future holds. It’s just a bonus that you have a thick cock and know how to use it.”

Her small speech had him chuckling and kissing her nose, pulling her close against him, “What I said earlier was true; I love how you walk around the office like you own the place. You take no shit from people and do your job damn well. Plus, I love your music taste as well.”

Grinning at him she jeered, “Wow can’t believe you still sweet talk your way even if it’s not in a courtroom setting.” Andy laughed at her retort and just grazed his fingertips on her sides, tickling her so he can hear her giggle. Once both their laughter died down, their lips met for a sweet, passionate kiss. “We have quite a mess to clean up tomorrow, Andy,” Y/N reminded him as she referred to the champagne bottle, glasses, their clothes, and his sofa bed — their whole situation, really.

“I don’t care,” He whispered as smiled at her, feeling so much lighter and better having been haunted by his personal demons for so long, “I don’t mind doing anything as long as it’s with you.”

Her heart fluttered with his simple statement; she was then reminded of the new year countdown. Reaching out for his wrist, she checked the time and noticed how a few minutes had passed 12. “Happy new year, Andy,” She greeted him with a peck on his lips.

A short, sweet kiss was returned to her as he planted his lips on hers again — quickly getting addicted to her, “Happy new year, baby. Can’t wait to spend this year with you by my side.”

#quietmyfearswith #andy barber fanfic #andy barber angst #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber x reader smut #andy barber x reader fluff #andy barber x reader angst

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years

Text

PART 4 | previously: part 3 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, mention of violence but there isn’t any

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: hi friends!! okay so this part is a little longer but it’s important for what’s to come ;) because i just couldn’t help myself, there’s a little song reference in there, hopefully you catch it,, maybe it’s important *wink wink* anyways, taglist is open so just lmk if you’d like to be added 🖤 enjoy xx

•

Four: it’s what’s on the inside that counts

It’s been over 2 weeks since your fight with Bakugou. The two of you haven’t spoken since, leaving your classmates a bit nervous. You were stubborn and so was he. The only problem was, neither of you really remembered why you were fighting in the first place. You two fought often, that was obvious, but something about this last fight felt different. As if you and Bakugou genuinely wanted to hurt each other. In the past, it was mainly for your own satisfaction just to fight someone. You and Bakugou had disliked each other for so long that you couldn’t even think of a solid reason for why you hated him. You soon came to realize that you barely knew anything about Katsuki Bakugou...and that bothered you.

“LISTEN UP! Prom tickets will be on sale after school today in the common area. You can also buy them at the door but just know they’ll cost more. So I recommend you have your money ready and get in line early because I only have a certain amount for presale. Thank you that’s all!” You announced to your class. “Oh and pass this information onto the other classes please!”

You hopped down from the desk where you were standing and brushed your skirt down.

“Do you need help setting up?” asked Deku. You looked over at Bakugou, who was supposed to be helping you but since the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, that wasn’t really an option.

“Uh sure that’d be great,” you said.

“I’ll lend a hand as well,” chimed in Iida. You laughed.

“Guys all I need help with is moving a table and a few boxes,” you explained.

“We are happy to help!”

You, Deku, and Iida set up the ticket selling table. You placed the poster of the dance in front of the table. Izuku grabbed the box of tickets and looked through them.

“Y/N did you make these?” He asked. Your face got warm.

“Uh yeah, it’s not a big deal though,” you insisted.

“It’s excellent artistic work Y/N! You should be proud!” smiled Iida.

“Yeah it’s super cool!”

“Thanks guys,” you gushed. You sat down at the table and pulled out your notebook and pen.

“Alright! Who wants the honor of buying the first ticket?”

“You should, after all you planned the dance,” said Deku. You smiled.

“I guess you’re right.” You picked up the first ticket, wrote your name next to the #1 spot in your notebook, and put your money in the cash box.

“Okay. Who’s next?”

The line of people never seemed to end. You got in the groove of writing down their name, number, and putting away the money pretty quickly.

“Hey Momo! Uh you’re number 35,” you said to your classmate.

“Thanks, here you go!” She smiled, handing you the money.

“Y/N!!” cheered Mina, “wait is this the theme?” Mina pointed to the design on the tickets.

“Uh yeah it is,” you smiled.

“‘My Emotions Feel Like Explosions When You’re Around’,” read aloud Deku.

“I LOVE IT!! It’s super cute and honestly I would expect nothing less from you and Bakugou!”

Right. Bakugou.

“Uh yeah. I'm excited to see how it turns out once we get all the decorations.”

“Do any of you have dates yet?” asked Denki as he paid.

“Wow Denki is that your only concern?” laughed Jirou.

“I haven’t even thought about that,” said Iida.

“Planning on asking anyone?” You asked aloud.

“I am…” mumbled Deku.

“Wow Izuku wonder who?” said Kirishima sarcastically.

“Who are you gonna ask, Deku?” You asked. No one said anything. You turned around and saw all your friends staring at you.

“What…it was just a question…”

“Wait, you're like genuinely asking?” laughed Denki, “I thought it was obvious.” Deku hit Denki’s arm.

“It’s fine, it will be better if it’s a surprise anyway,” said Deku.

“Do you want someone to ask you, Y/N?” asked Sero, handing you his money. You put the cash in a box.

“I honestly don’t care. I wasn’t even planning on going to Prom before Aizawa forced me to plan it,” you admitted.

“Well we are all glad you’ll be there,” smiled Iida.

Your friends had all gone back to their dorms after a bit. There were still about 20 people in line for tickets and you were exhausted.

“Cafeteria closes soon dumbass,” said someone. You whipped around. You groaned.

“Well Katsuki, I’m kinda busy if you can’t tell,” you huffed.

“Go eat. I’ll finish up here,” he said. Your eyes grew.

“Wait what-”

“Go on, you only have 15 minutes before they close dinner. I've got this,” he insisted. You got up from your chair.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“It can’t be that hard if you figured it out.”

You rolled your eyes

“Whatever. Just pick up when you’re done.” You began to walk down to the cafeteria.

Two weeks of not talking to me and that’s all he has to say?

“Grabbing some dinner?” called Iida behind you. You smiled.

“Yeah , Bakugou is finishing up the ticket sale.”

“Nice. I’ll join you.”

“Thanks Iida.”

“Cold soba?” questioned Iida, “You never get your soba cold.” You looked down at your tray of food.

“I guess Todoroki converted me,” you joked. Iida raised a brow.

“Alright Y/N, what is it? We both know you hate cold food,” he said. You picked at your soba.

“I’m fine honestly,” you mumbled.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Bakugou, would it?” You whipped your head to look at Iida.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?”

“That’s more like it!” He smiled. You chuckled.

“Well would it?” He asked. You shrugged.

“I guess this whole dance is stressing me out. Bakugou and I haven’t been very productive lately ,” you admitted. Iida sighed.

“Well this might be a stretch but you could try to make peace with him.” You groaned.

“I’m not making peace with that angry pomeranian until he apologizes.”

“Why can’t you just apologize?”

“BECAUSE I-I, I don’t know. My own stupid pride I guess.”

“You two need to overcome your differences eventually. Who knows, you guys might have more in common than you think,” smiled Iida.

“You’re the worst, you know that,” you joked.

“Wait really?”

“Iida…”

After dinner, you laid in your dorm room, staring up at the ceiling. You knew you should get some of the planning done but you also would rather just forget about the stupid dance. After about 10 minutes of contemplating, you headed down to the basement.

As you walked down the stairs, you remembered that Bakugou still had your notebook. You went down anyway, hoping to get some work done on your laptop instead. Much to your surprise, the door was propped open. You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for what could be behind the door.

“Hey Bakugou…” your voice trailed off as you saw that no one else was in the room.

He must’ve left the door open so I wouldn’t ask him for the keys.

You set down your things and sat down on one of the tables. You pulled out your laptop.

“I figured I’d find you here,” A raspy voice said. You looked up to see none other than Katsuki Bakugou, holding your notebook.

“Oh hi. I just thought I’d get some work done,” you explained.

“How’d you get in?”

“Uh you left the door open,” you explained. Bakugou huffed. He took a seat at the same table as you, setting down your notebook.

“Here dumbass.” Bakugou threw something on you and it landed on your head.

“What the-” You grabbed the soft material off of your head. Your eyes grew.

“Katsuki-”

“You said I owed you a new shirt, so here it is,” he said. You looked at the brand new t-shirt, a smile on your face.

“Yeah well I didn’t think you’d actually buy me one…”

“I mean I did rip your other shirt pretty badly. I-uh-I’m sorry about that.” Your eyes widened.

“Did you just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah and I’m not saying it again.” he huffed.

“Bakugou I’m sorry too,” you said. Bakugou tilted his head.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I guess for everything. Well, maybe not everything because I don’t regret kicking your ass for 3 years one bit but I am sorry for that fight the other day. I almost killed you,” you explained nervously.

“Key word ‘almost’. I guess I almost did too,” he joked. You let out a nervous chuckle.

“Here’s the thing Bakugou, I don’t know anything about you yet I hate you with every ounce of my body. I guess I want to hate you for a reason.”

“What the hell does that mean, nerd?” He questioned. Your face got warm.

“You know how they say, ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’? Well,I want to hate you for what’s on the inside,” you laughed. Bakugou raised a brow.

“And what about you? The only thing I know about you is that you’ve got a short temper and your shirts rip easily. I barely know you either…”

He was right. Probably the only person who knew anything remotely deep about you was Iida, and even that was still somewhat surface level. You didn’t pick UA to get too comfortable with your classmates, even if you were friends, since in the real world you would be competing for the number one Hero spot. Maybe that’s why most of them were intimidated by you.

You patted on the top of the table, hinting for Bakugou to sit with you. He groaned and joined you on the table.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on just try. And just to clarify, we are doing this for research purposes only. I’m convinced by the end of this I’ll still want to rip your head off 24/7,” you said. Bakugou nodded.

“Yeah I mean not like that could change.”

“Exactly. Okay so you first. What is it that makes Katsuki Bakugou a horrible pain in my ass?” You smiled sarcastically. Bakugou chuckled quietly.

“What do you want to know, dumbass?”

•

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Winning is a Habit

Hi y’all! Okay sooooooooo this is my first time writing fic??????? Like omg please be nice lmao. I don’t have a beta reader, so if you catch any mistakes pls lmk! I saw this challenge and the world is total garbage, so why not write our own realities????? Ok here goes!!!!!!!!!! Written for @veraiconcos fic challenge

Summary: The BAU gets called to investigate two high-profile murders in a college town, only to find that they are part of a much bigger, more complicated picture. No real pairings, although you could make it happen if you want lol ;) This is an idea I’ve seen floating around the fandom for a little while now, and I really wanted to see it fleshed out. Set around season 4 or 5.

Category: some angst, sort of fluff? I wouldn’t say it necessarily qualifies as an AU, but it’s outside of canon.

Warnings/Includes: some brief descriptions of violence/CM type stuff; mentions of rape (no details)

Word count: 6.1k

———

“Stillwater, Oklahoma,” JJ said, navigating the map off screen and pulling up the crime scene photos. “Two college seniors— Tyler Allen and Leon Williams, star football players for Oklahoma State University— both found dead the day before the playoff qualifier.”

“Do we know the cause of death?” Spencer asked, thumbing through the case file.

“The ME report concluded that both boys died of acute alcohol poisoning,” JJ informed them.

Emily looked up from the file. “And the locals don’t think this could just be a case of college kids having a little too much fun?”

“Before a major playoff game? I doubt it.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Especially considering OSU’s having a record-breaking season. I’d guess the coach had players on a pretty strict lockdown.” He raised his hands and joined them in a steeple over his chest. “Showing up to a game hung-over— particularly one as important as this— would be a major conduct issue.”

“That, and there was a pretty specific message left on both victims,” JJ added, arms crossed and eyebrows lifting into her hairline.

“On them?” Rossi questioned.

JJ motioned with her hand back to the screen. Six sets of eyes moved over the photo; the words “U LOSE” scrawled in ink across the foreheads of the two men.

“Resorting to murder to win a football game?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed.

“And why use the forensic countermeasure of staged alcohol poisoning, only to backtrack and assert it as a murder?” Spencer pondered, pursing his lips.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got two dead college students and a definite signature. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told them, closing his case file.

⧭⧭⧭

“No sign of forced entry.” Derek walked through the entry hallway and into the living space. “Doesn’t look like there was any struggle, either.”

Rossi thumbed through the mail on the kitchen counter and peered around the small space. “Everything you’d expect in a boys’ college dorm room: dishes in the sink, generic decor, general mess. Nothing that stands out.”

“Agents, thank you so much for coming.” A tall man in a dark suit stepped across the threshold of the apartment. He stuck out his hand for Rossi to shake. “Steven Barrett, Dean of Students.”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. This is SSA Derek Morgan.” Derek nodded from his place in the living room.

“I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. We’re dealing with a grieving campus,” Barrett said, running a hand over his face. “I’m actually on my way to speak to the Board, but I wanted to check in with you before. I’m not sure I can be of much help, but I can try to answer any questions you might have.”

“These boys were seniors, but they still lived on campus. Is that typical?” Rossi asked, gesturing around the apartment.

“Uh, yes, it is for student athletes,” Barrett confirmed with a nod. “OSU teams have demanding, sometimes grueling practice schedules. Being on campus simplifies things, allows students to get to classes and practices, as well as utilize the dining halls.”

“Does this building have security cameras?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. All of our buildings do. I’ll let Campus PD know you’ll need access to the footage.” Barrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and punched the button to answer the call. “Yes. Yes, I—I’m finishing up with the FBI now. I understand. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “I’m sorry to leave you, gentlemen. Our top priority right now is supporting our students and community through this tragedy. Part of that healing process is finding out who did this to Tyler and Leon. So anything else you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have to do that job right about now.”

Rossi gave another glance around the nondescript apartment and sighed. “Call Garcia and ask her if she’s found any other cases that could be related. And let’s hope there’s something useful on that security footage.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Based on lividity and rigor mortis, I was able to put the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00pm on Wednesday evening. The blood alcohol content for both boys was over five times the legal limit. I’ve never seen anything like it,” the medical examiner mused.

Emily looked over the bodies, her arms crossed. “Dr. Saraj, about how much would they have to drink for the level to be that high?”

“When drinking, the level of alcohol in our blood reaches a peak before it drops off after the last drink ingested,” Spencer supplied. “In a typical night of drinking, spread over the course of several hours, the average man can have 8-12 drinks without ever reaching lethal levels. But considering each victim weighed around 230 pounds, they’d have had to ingest approximately 180 ounces of beer or 18.75 ounces of liquor to reach a lethal blood alcohol content.”

Dr. Saraj glanced at Spencer before adding, “Look, this is a college town. Kids drink. But... to have had this much alcohol still detectable in their system post-mortem indicates that these boys drank at least the equivalent of a 30 rack, by themselves, in less than an hour.” She flipped up the first page of the report in her hands, eyes scanning the second. “And the toxicology screen also found trace amounts of ketamine.”

Spencer bent over the examining table and adjusted the wrist of one of the boys with a gloved hand. “Doctor, are these ligature marks?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Saraj agreed, nodding. “They’re relatively faint, so I almost missed them. But I found similar marks on both boys on the wrists and ankles.”

“So,” Emily said, gesturing with her hands, “the unsub doses them with ketamine to gain control, ties them up, forces them to drink lethal amounts of alcohol, and then— what?” She looked to Spencer. “Waits for them to pass out before removing the restraints and leaving the message?”

Spencer examined the marker scrawls. “Were you able to determine what the message was written with and if it was left pre- or post-mortem?”

“My guess would be it was written with some type of permanent marker, but I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Saraj said. “We’re analyzing the residue now, and I can send the report your way as soon as I have it. As for when it was written, I couldn't tell you.” She shook her head. “The one simple mercy is that these boys would have been out cold for a while before they died.”

⧭⧭⧭

“I’m so sorry. I know how difficult this is. Anything that you can tell us will be helpful in finding the person who did this,” JJ encouraged softly. “Anyone that Tyler might have had an argument with recently or who he mentioned having problems with?”

“No, no. He was—he was just your typical boy,” Mrs. Allen sniffled. “Playing football and hanging out with his friends,” she said, voice hitching. “Oh my god.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“He didn’t have time to have problems,” Mr. Allen asserted. “He spent all his free time on the field. Coach had them out there for two-a-days until classes started. He’s the quarterback. He was leading that team to the first national title since 1945.” He stood to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “Some lunatic murdered my boy and you’re sitting around talking to us while they’re out there, walking free.”

“Sir, I promise you that we have some of the best agents in the country working on your son’s case,” JJ assured. “But in order to help them do their job, we need to know as much as we can about who Tyler was.”

Across the bullpen, Hotch sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “Leon was a good boy. Football was his life. He loved being a part of this team. It was the season of a lifetime,” Mr. Williams said.

“We taught him better than to be drinking and carrying on,” Mrs. Williams added.

“Can you think of anything or anyone he might have mentioned recently that was out of the ordinary? Anything that was bothering him or causing him distress?” Hotch questioned.

“He was feeling pressure about the season, but he’s been handling that kind of thing since he was twelve years old.” Mr. Williams shared an almost indiscernible look with his wife. “He got into—into the same kinds of trouble any college kid gets in. Nothing that could have gotten him murdered.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Yeah, baby girl, what d’ya got for me?” Derek held the phone out so that Rossi could listen in as they waited in the OSU security office.

“Well, my handsome knight, I wish I could tell you more but so far, I’m coming up empty with similar cases,” Penelope sighed. “Nothing that matches our alcohol poisoning M.O. or the signature. I just expanded the search to surrounding states, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Anything on our two victims?” Rossi asked.

“Now that’s where it gets interesting,” Penelope mused, tapping the fluffy end of her pen into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing. Zilch, nada.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “And that’s interesting because...?”

“Come on, sir,” Penelope scoffed. “Two young, athletic, good-looking college football stars and there’s nothing at all? Nothing scandalous on social media. No run-ins with campus PD. Not even a write up from an RA.”

Derek tilted his head in thought. “Hotch and JJ said their conversations with the parents told a similar story.”

“Okay, but no one is this squeaky clean, particularly not at a Big 12 college. Everyone has some dirt,” Penelope insisted. “I haven’t found it yet, but there’s gotta be something out there. When I have it, you’ll know it!”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek drawled.

“Over and out!” Penelope jabbed the button to end the call.

The OSU officer waved them over with his hand. “I’ve got it queued up to 6:24pm. You can see the boys here,” he pointed on the screen at the two victims, “entering the north entrance of the dining hall.”

Derek leaned toward the monitor. “So they leave practice, come through the dining hall for dinner. When do they leave?”

The footage sped up on the screen, then stopped. “Here. 7:01.”

“Rossi, you seeing this?” Derek slid his eyes over.

Rossi nodded. “Is there any way to enhance these frames?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Not on this system. Honestly, the camera quality isn’t great. I’ve been trying to get them to invest in an upgraded OS, but you know—budget woes. Your analyst might be able to do more.”

“It’s not going to matter.” Derek sighed and straightened up. “She’s careful of her angles.”

“I couldn’t find them on any grounds cameras, but they pop back up entering the dorm. Here, at 7:12.”

“All three of them,” Rossi noted. He looked at Derek. “And like you said, she’s discreet.”

“They all go upstairs to the apartment,” the officer continued, “but only the girl leaves. At 8:43.”

⧭⧭⧭

“We have a witness from the cafeteria that confirms that the boys ate with a dark-haired young woman in a red coat,” Hotch said, arms crossed. “But other than those two details, the witness couldn’t recall anything else and said they’d never seen her before.”

“So we’ve got the two victims entering their apartment with an unknown woman. They’re upstairs for an hour and a half before she leaves,” Emily recounted.

Derek stood with his hands on his hips. “And in that time, she manages to dose and gain control of two boys that are more than double her size and funnel a lethal amount of alcohol into them. Now the question is why?”

As the team converged around the conference room table, a uniformed officer entered into the doorway. “Agent Jareau? There’s a possible witness—says she might have some new information.”

JJ nodded to the team and moved to the doorway. A petite young woman stood in the center of the bullpen, wringing her hands. When her eyes landed on JJ, she let her arms fall to her side. As JJ approached, she motioned with her hand for the girl to sit at the closest desk. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I heard you wanted to speak to someone about this case. Can I have your name?”

The girl nodded. “Um, I’m Cassie. I saw the announcement you made. About the woman in the red coat. I heard you say that she had brown hair. Is that true?”

JJ cocked her head slightly. “Yeah, the witness and security footage we have shows a woman with dark hair walking with Tyler and Leon. Why do you ask?”

Cassie’s eyes darted around the bullpen, and she drew her arms tightly over her chest. “I just— um—well, I—”

“Would it help if we moved somewhere a little quieter?” JJ suggested. When Cassie nodded and stood, JJ placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her toward an empty interview room. Cassie sat in the chair farthest from the door, and JJ sat opposite her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about the woman? Or is it something else that’s on your mind?”

Cassie let out a long breath. “When I heard that they were dead, I— I was relieved. That sounds awful, but it’s true.”

JJ tread lightly over her next question. “You felt relieved. Why was that?”

Cassie looked directly at JJ. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder everywhere I go for the last seven months. I won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

Cassie took a breath and closed her eyes for a long second, before opening them and continuing. “There was a huge party in the spring. I mean, there were, like, hundreds of people there.” Cassie’s eyes went wide. “I never go to parties like that. But it was the end of the year, and my friend—well, I went with my friend. She got invited.”

“Were Tyler and Leon at this party?” JJ asked.

“Everybody was. I mean, everybody who’s somebody at OSU was there. We saw them right away. The whole team was there, but people treated those two like kings.” Cassie looked down at her hands. “We were drinking... a lot. At some point, Laney and I got separated. I tried calling her phone a bunch of times, but the party was really loud. I—I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was getting really messed up. I had a guy friend from one of my classes walk me home.” She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. “Laney didn’t get back until the morning. Her clothes were all torn up, her hair had... blood in it, and she—she had a bruise under her eye.” She looked up at JJ, eyes shining with tears. “They raped her. I left her behind, and they raped her,” she whispered.

JJ reached across the table for Cassie’s hand. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. What happened to Laney was not your fault, or hers. Do you understand me?” JJ paused before continuing. Cassie looked down. “Do you know if she reported it?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m the one who went with her to the infirmary. They did a kit and confirmed it. When we went to Campus PD, they did nothing. Said Laney was wasted, and there was no one that could back up her story.”

JJ squeezed her hand. “So there was no official report filed?”

Cassie laughed coldly. “Oh, they wrote a report. I think if we ask them to, they have to. But they wouldn’t name Tyler or Leon in it. Said they didn’t want to ‘give legs to any gossip.’”

JJ’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Where’s Laney now?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie shook her head. “She didn’t come back to OSU this fall. I haven’t really talked to her since—” She looked at JJ. “I can’t get the image of her out of my head. How she looked when she came through the door that morning. What they did to her… I’m not sorry that they’re dead.” Her eyes were shining with rage. “People knew what happened… and no one did anything. And those two were still the kings of campus.”

⧭⧭⧭

The team absorbed the new information quietly. “So Garcia was right. They did have something to hide.” Derek’s phone buzzed. “Speaking of. Hey mama, you’re on speaker.”

“I hope you’re all sitting down,” Penelope warned. “I expanded the parameters of my original VICAP search to include the surrounding states. No hits on suspicious deaths by alcohol poisoning. However, the U LOSE signature? Seven hits across Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.”

“So our unsub’s been traveling across the South—” Emily started.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Penelope continued. “Just to double check, I expanded the search area to the continental US. Our unsub has been busy. Over 30 murders with this signature, all across the country, dating back to March 2007. All different M.O.s: gunshot, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But all with U LOSE scrawled across their forehead in—get this—liquid eyeliner.”

“Anything tying the victims together, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“All men, mostly white, but all across different ages, occupations, and marital statuses. At first glance, there’s no real connection,” Penelope answered.

“What about on second glance?” Hotch prompted.

“Way ahead of you, sir. I did a little digging.” Penelope shrugged. “Okay, a lot of digging—most of it legal. Every single one of these victims had at least one sexual assault allegation. Some are official police reports, some are HR complaints, some are sealed court records. But in every case, the victim’s cause of death is directly related to the details of the assault records. Women that were held at knifepoint, their attacker was stabbed to death. If they were choked, he was strangled. If they were held at gunpoint, he died of a gunshot wound. Et cetera, et cetera.” Penelope twirled her pen. “The differing M.O.s combined with the fact that the unsub kept crossing state lines kept local PDs and field offices from making the connection.”

“Garcia, can you search OSU PD records for an incident report?” JJ asked.

Garcia tapped rapidly across her keyboard. “Absolutely, sugar, when would it have been filed?”

“It would’ve been this year, sometime at the end of April or beginning of May,” JJ answered. “The victim would be named as Laney Collins.”

After a few moments, Garcia peered through her green cat-eye glasses at the report. “Mmm, I’ve got one incident report, filed on May 7th. And woof, this report is not much to go on. The responding officer wrote a whopping three sentences. According to him, Laney was incapacitated and thus was not a credible witness.” Garcia twirled her pen. “The alleged attackers, who are not named, denied Laney’s account of what happened. Because there were no other witnesses, Officer Thorough deemed that no further action was necessary.” She jabbed her pen in the direction of the screen. “And this, my friends, is why women don’t bother reporting.”

“Good work, Garcia,” said Hotch.

“There’s one more interesting detail from the report,” Garcia continued. “The dean of students signed off on it.”

“So Barrett knew about this the whole time,” Derek fumed.

“And again, people wonder why women don’t report,” Garcia repeated, ending the call.

“So our unsub is seeking justice for women she believes have been failed by the system. We’re looking for a vigilante, carrying out revenge killings,” Rossi concluded.

Derek nodded. “And she’s organized and efficient; she finished with Tyler and Leon in less than two hours.”

“She’s smart and she blends in, doesn’t draw too much attention to herself,” JJ added.

“She’s meticulous and has at least some knowledge of forensic countermeasures, considering there’s no physical evidence tying her to any of the scenes,” Spencer remarked.

“And she knew enough to keep her face off the security footage,” Emily finished.

“Rossi, Emily, and I will stay here and deliver the profile,” Hotch directed. “JJ, I’d like you to speak to the families again, see if they knew about the rape. Reid, Morgan, talk to Barrett and see what else he might be trying to keep quiet.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Makes you wonder just how many people knew what happened,” Derek considered, closing the car door.

“It’s estimated that twenty percent of student victims of sexual assault report it to their university, but less than one percent of assailants receive any type of disciplinary action,” Spencer cited, making his way toward the sidewalk.

Derek shook his head. “And so the victims don’t see the point in reporting it. Your attacker gets to walk around like nothing even happened. Cassie told JJ that she felt like she had a target on her back once they reported Laney’s assault.”

As they walked up the blacktop driveway to the entrance of Barrett’s home, Spencer slowed his steps as he noticed the front door. “Morgan.” He nodded at the door, slightly ajar.

Derek drew his gun and moved ahead of Spencer. He pushed the door slowly open and called out, “Mr. Barrett?” In the foyer were the remnants of a broken vase and a small trail of blood. “Call Hotch, let him know we’ve got trouble here.”

Derek and Spencer worked to quietly clear the rooms, one by one. Derek stopped at the bottom of the stairs and motioned to Spencer. As they started up the stairs, a woman’s voice called out, “Shut up! You had nothing to say before. So now, you’re just going to listen.”

Derek reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway. He reached the open door where a woman stood, her back to the door. Behind her, Derek could see Barrett, sitting on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on his head. His hands were raised in front of his chest, palms facing out. Derek stopped, his gun trained on the woman, and murmured, “Laney?”

The woman pivoted her body, her short blonde hair whipping around. Derek saw tears in her eyes and a revolver in her hand. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Laney, my name is Derek. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. I need you to put the gun down.”

“No!” Laney screamed. “You don’t know what he’s done.” She shook the gun in Barrett’s direction, and Barrett closed his eyes.

Derek spoke softly. “I do, Laney. I do know. I know what happened to you. I know that he kept Tyler and Leon’s names off the report. I know that he didn’t help you when you needed it most. I know that he let them get away with--”

“Rape. He let them get away with rape. Because he cares more about reputation and football than what happens to women on his campus. They ruined my life.” Laney turned away from Derek and put both hands on the gun. “They ruined my life, and you did nothing. And then they walked around campus like they were invincible, because you taught them they were.”

Derek moved further into the room, into Laney’s eyesight. Spencer moved into the doorway, covering Derek. “Laney, look at me. I’m putting my gun away.” Derek held his hands up and then moved to holster his gun. “Doing this won’t make the pain go away.”

“How many others? How many other women did he do this to?” Laney let out a painful sob. “If I don’t stop him, it never ends.”

“Listen to me.” Derek took a step closer to her. “Killing him won’t change what happened, Laney. It won’t. Believe me. I know how you feel.”

“People love to say that when they’re trying to shut you up. How could you possibly know how I feel?” Laney spit out.

“Someone hurt me, just like they hurt you. And nobody was there to help me. No one was there to listen.” Laney froze, eyes shifting to meet Derek’s. “I wanted to hurt him, Laney. Wanted to make him feel the same pain I felt. I wanted him to suffer.” He moved another step closer. “I know that those men hurt you, and I know that he let them get away with it. And I am so, so sorry. But you’re stronger than anyone knows, Laney. You are the only person who has the power to help others who didn’t get justice. I have a friend who’s spent her whole life helping survivors, and I know she’d love to talk with you.” He took another step. “You are the only person who can stop it from happening to someone else. You can make sure he’s held accountable for what he’s done. But if you pull that trigger, you can never go back,” Derek warned.

Laney looked at Derek, his hand outstretched, wordlessly asking her to give him the gun. She looked at Barrett, crying and silently begging her to show him the mercy she never got. “I wish I’d been the one to kill them,” she whispered.

The gun dropped out of her hand as Derek stepped forward to catch her. He kicked the gun into the doorway, and Spencer recovered it. “I’ve got you,” Derek said, helping Laney out of the room. “Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Spencer moved to lift Barrett off the ground and helped him into a chair by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer caught a flash of red below the window. He stumbled over Barrett, nose almost pressed to the glass as he stared out. The woman froze, eyes locked on Spencer’s. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at her, bewildered. By the time his brain caught up, she had already disappeared from view.

Spencer turned and raced down the stairs, clinging to the railing as he nearly missed a step. He burst out the front door into the driveway, sprinting around the side of the house. He heard Derek call his name, saw the other SUVs pulling up, but he kept running. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the backyard, and then spun in a full circle, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter.

Hotch approached from the side of the house, gun drawn. “Reid! Are you all right?”

Spencer took a last look, scanned from east to west. “Yeah, yeah. I just—I thought I saw—I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Barrett’s inside. He’s got a head laceration, but he’ll be fine.”

Hotch lowered his gun and nodded. “And Laney’s not our unsub. So we’re back to the beginning.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Strauss is asking us to head back to Quantico.” Hotch pocketed his phone and looked at the team. “We’ll move the cases to our watch list and flag the signature for hits in VICAP. From what we know about the unsub’s behavior, we know she’s no longer in the area.” He gestured to the evidence board. “Our best course of action is to keep the profile in our periphery for now. We can do that from the BAU. It’s late. Go to the hotel, get some rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely starving.” Emily slipped into her jacket and headed for the door. “Anybody want to hit up that 24 hour diner?”

Derek and JJ quickly agreed, following Emily from the conference room. JJ turned back, eyeing Spencer. “You coming, Spence?”

“I’m just really tired.” His voice lilted up, almost a question. “Next time, though.”

JJ gave him a look but didn’t press him. “Have a good night, Spence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gathered up the case files, not quite ready to put them away.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer’s eyelids felt heavy as he walked through the lobby of the hotel. He really was tired. He blamed the exhaustion for what he thought he saw through the window at Barrett’s. His fatigued mind was seeing things that weren’t there. He practically floated into the elevator and up to his room. Sliding the room key through the slot, the door beeped open and Spencer stepped inside. He flicked on the light and dropped his bag on the floor, loosening his tie as he walked toward one of the sling back chairs sat by the window. He paused just before he reached the chair, his gaze lingering over something on the desk. A note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary.

623.

Spencer lifted the note with two careful fingers. “623?” He turned it over, looking for the rest of the message, but the paper was blank other than the number. He lowered the note, and his eyes landed on a small plastic card where the paper had rested on the table. Not just a card. A room key.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer stared at the door of the room. Room 623. He turned his head and slowly looked up and then down the hallway. He took a breath and raised his hand to the door. He knocked in the familiar rhythm: five knocks, pause, two knocks. He pressed his ear close to the door, listening for any movement inside. When he heard nothing, he knocked again; the same pattern, but a little louder. He listened again. Nothing. Spencer felt a bead of sweat creep down the nape of his neck. He thought about turning around, about walking back down the two flights of stairs to his room and getting into bed.

Instead, he pulled the keycard from his pocket. As he lifted the card with one hand, he used his other to raise the strap on his holster. He held his breath as he swiped the card through the slot and heard the beep of the lock. Drawing his gun from the holster, Spencer slowly turned the handle of the door.

The room was mostly dark. Only the yellow glow of one of the bedside lamps illuminated the space. Spencer stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Again, his mind said to turn around. Yet his feet carried him further into the room. He could see now that the sling backs were facing toward the window. There were two glasses from the mini bar on the table between them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a familiar voice mused.

Spencer startled and then swallowed audibly, a cartoon character realizing he’s in serious trouble. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You can put the gun away,” she continued. “Really. Come sit down, Reid.”

Hearing her say his name sucked all the air out of his lungs. He closed the remaining distance between them, staring dumbly at her perched in the armchair. She gave him a small smile, warm despite the nervous energy in the air. “Hey, Reid.”

“Elle.” Spencer sunk into the chair across from her. “I—I thought I was seeing things. Earlier. At Barrett’s.”

She studied him quietly. “This hair is a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” Spencer blushed, smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck. He quickly dropped his hand. “It was you then.”

“What was me?” Elle asked innocuously.

“You were at Steven Barrett’s house today. In the yard.” Spencer folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “You were wearing a red coat.”

Elle lifted one of the glasses to her lips, taking a sip of the clear liquor, ice cubes rattling. She swallowed and gestured to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

“I, um, I don’t drink anymore.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “A lot has happened since… the last time I saw you.” Spencer smoothed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “You were there today. Elle, did you—are you…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask.

Elle ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was quiet for a long time. Spencer fidgeted in his seat, but stayed quiet, waiting. Elle set the glass down.

“Do you remember that night in Dayton? In the hotel room?” Spencer looked at her pointedly. Elle let out a laugh. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m talking to; of course you remember.” Their eyes met. Spencer felt she was looking right through him. “You told me that I’d won. That because Garner was dead, and I was alive, I won.”

“Elle—” Spencer started.

“You asked, Reid. This is my answer.” She screwed the cap off the bottle of gin. Pouring the remainder of the bottle into her glass, she continued, “It took time, but I started to feel safe in my own home again. I could close my eyes without seeing his face. I could take a shower without bringing my gun.” She downed the rest of her glass. “When I killed Lee, I gave that same freedom back to the women he’d raped. They could exist in the world knowing that he would never hurt them, ever again.” She smiled ruefully. “And it felt… good. It felt right. And after years of having watched people be destroyed by monsters… I don’t know. It was just something I had to do. To bring that freedom and that safety back to other women who had been hurt and broken and alone. To destroy their monsters.” Elle looked at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But the answer to your question is yes.”

Spencer took a breath and asked, “Why’d you put the key in my room? You could have just… disappeared.”

Elle shook her head. “I chose this. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. Most of the time, I’m fine, great even. Because being able to give these women justice is the greatest gift. But with this work, you can’t really keep anybody close. No holidays or birthdays. No dates or girls nights.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen. What the boy genius would do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, that’s a first.” Elle smiled, but Spencer could see apprehension in the rigidness of her shoulders, in the slight bouncing of her leg.

“I should probably arrest you,” he considered.

Her leg stopped. “You probably should.”

Spencer looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers up to the crook of his elbow, ghosting over the scars there. His mind raced from memory to memory: Elle on the train car; Tobias Hankle standing over him; Elle in the hospital bed; the needle in his arm; Elle in the hotel in Dayton; the click of an empty chamber.

“Elle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you that you’d won.” She was motionless, staring at him. He continued, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it was like. To be consumed and overcome by a memory.” Now it was Spencer’s eyes that shone with tears. “I didn’t know that the trauma could… fester in your brain like an infection that you can’t get rid of. I don’t know if winning is even possible after something like that.” He rubbed his hand under his eye and cleared his throat. “It was an awful thing to say. And I’m sorry.”

Elle tipped her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “All’s forgiven.”

Spencer reached out and gently grabbed Elle’s hand. “I’ve been so tired recently. I thought I saw something through the window at Steven Barrett’s house. But when I did a perimeter check, I didn’t find anything.” Elle dropped her head back down and turned to look at him. “We’re headed back to Quantico in the morning. We’ll, um, be keeping tabs on VICAP hits on the signature.” Spencer gave her hand one soft squeeze before standing. He let a small, bittersweet smile move over his face.

He made it to the door before he heard her voice again.

“If I asked you to stay, would you say yes?”

Spencer swiveled back to look at her, the door just barely open. Elle’s arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were dark and wide and full of storms. “Just for a little while longer?”

Spencer turned and moved his eyes up the length of the doorway, considering. He heard Elle let out a breath. His own breath stuttered. He closed the door softly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to her. “I’ve got a little while.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #criminal minds #tw rape #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #elle greenaway #homoose writes

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honeykept · 3 years

Text

JANUARY 2021— looking ahead

okay so i was inspired by @galaxycastiel to make a post about what to expect from me/my blog come january, and i felt like it could help organize me a bit so that i don't lose track of some goals of mine and i can stick to them!! + also so you guys know what to expect 🤍

— SPN THURS as always, i'll be around on thursdays on the spn thursdays discord server (at the main time slot, if anyone wants to come hang out w/ me !!) but i also want to post some more art/sketch pages based on the eps...i think it'll help me get more comfy in posting my art + i need the practice lmao

— RAMBLE ON we've watched through season 6 for Ramble On in the last month, so come the first week of january, we'll be mapping out the bigger plots for RO, including chapter-by-chapter plot ideas and character arcs (in addition to what we've already planned). i'm hoping we'll get good direction on this, and that we can get some drafts done in the first few weeks of the month (which is!! exciting!!) and hold more meetings to reflect this

— FICS i also had an idea for another fic (an au) that i think i'll start this month. no promises, but if i go through with starting it, i think it'll end up being really cool!! (and likely multiple chapters) IF NOT then i still plan to upload some of my other ficlets to my ao3, and possibly write some more ficlets (bc they're shorter) and post them here/on ao3 as well (,:

— FIC RECS *this was added on after my original post lmao but. i started making a fic rec page and i intend to finish it . or die trying 💞

— FOLLOWER CELEBRATION *ok this was ALSO added after the fact. SORRY!! i keep remembering things. i hit...several milestones since making this acc and i will be celebrating it and planning that all out because i wanna make it cool!! and stuff! if you have any suggestions of what i should do please lmk via ask box (,:

— EDITING guess who just downloaded after effects again !! ✨ i'll be re-learning how to make edits if i can find the time to/remember to. i have an idea that i'd like to get out this month. i think that's doable tbh !! it'll be posted on my instagram when it's eventually finished (;

— POETRY because it's not too much of a time commitment and because i enjoy it a lot, i'll likely post some more poetry this month...woo me!!! if you don't like it...uh, me neither! but hey it's content and i'm starved for it!!

*note (to myself and others): i start school again on monday...while i'm taking less units than last quarter, it's still an obligation that'll take up some of my time, plus i'm working part-time still at my job. i tend to put too much on my plate lmao so if i end up falling through on one or more of these, my apologies, but it's okay. there's always time. i'll get to them eventually!!

so it'll be an eventful month, it seems!! idk how to end this...uh...i hope you guys like my content?? lmao, and good luck to me i guess! 💛

#rambles #2021lookingahead

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finnyboywolfhard · 4 years

Text

Song That The Morning Brings (EPILOGUE)

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

catch up here

summary: months have passed, and the group is spending time with one another.

warnings: cursing and fluff af, short and sweet

A/N: and so we’ve reached the end! this story holds a deeply special place in my heart, and i am so glad that so many of you have enjoyed it and stuck with me along the way. I have no idea what I’m gonna write next, but i am very open to ideas! also lmk if you want to be on a permanent taglist! Enjoy :)

word count: 1.5k

“Okay, so I brought home Sixteen Candles, Nightmare on Elm Street and Gremlins.” Y/N said walking into her living room following a long shift at Family Video. The party and Steve were sitting there patiently waiting. She set her keys on the side table and slipped the vest off her body. She looked towards the group again, sadness gaining as Will and Eleven were missing from the group.

“Sixteen Candles is one of my favorites.” Max said towards the girl.

“That’s a chick flick!” Mike replied.

“And? It’s a good movie Mike.” Steve replied back, standing up to come towards his girlfriend. The kids continued to bicker about what movie they were gonna watch first. Steve left a gentle kiss on Y/N’s lips, and then gazed into her eyes.

“Will you help me make dinner please?” She said with her puppy dog face, knowing what it does to him. He sighed and rolled his eyes as a smile spread across my face.

“I will, but you have got to stop making that face.” He said, rubbing her back and pulling her closer and closer. The girl leaned her face towards hers, letting a gentle but long lasting smooch.

“Can you guys go somewhere else if you’re gonna be gross?” Dustin let out in a huff. The two pulled apart while giggling, Y/N pulling Steve behind her to the kitchen. She made a simple dinner of frozen chicken nuggets and random vegetables she also found. The girl could cook, but cooking for six of them now and one for later, her mom, was a feat she wasn’t willing to venture down currently.

“How was it today? Was Keith more tolerable to you?” Steve asked.

“He was less flirty but there were still a few weird comments. You have the job and he’s been nice to you, hell, you already have a raise! How long do we have to keep this up?” She pleaded to him, regarding how they had to pretend they weren’t a couple at work.

“I don’t know, just a little longer just to be sure.” She sighed and turned back to the pot, stirring absolutely nothing, just deflecting her feelings elsewhere. She knew it was just so they could keep their jobs, but it did hurt not being able to openly love him everywhere. She knew she could keep it professional, but sometimes when Keith is gross, she just wants to involve Steve but she can’t. Steve could tell she was getting tense.

“Come here.”

“I have to pay attention to this.” She said passive aggressively.

“Y/N/N, come here.” She shuffled over to stand in between his legs while he sat on a counter.

“Yes?” He cupped her face into his hands, making sure they were making direct, un-breaking eye contact.

“Y/N Y/M/N Henderson, I am wildly, deeply, crazy in love with you.” This had slowly but surely becoming their way of proving how much love they really had for one another ever since Y/N said it the first time.

“I am even more in love with you Steven Joseph Harrington.” They made loving eye contact for a few seconds before confusion spread across her face.” Hey, the night of the fight, why were you hugging my mom before we left?”

“Oh, yeah. She basically just said that she knew how much I loved you and she had watched me transform before her own eyes. Then I apologized for the way I acted there for a while and uhh—she told me that she trusted me to care for you and be there, because you let me in when you wouldn’t let anyone else in, not even her. All I could do was hug her in that moment. She saw all that I’ve ever wanted to do- Love you.” He watched as the girls eyes pooled with tears, letting his thumb swipe the drop from beneath her eyes. “Come on Y/N/N, please don’t cry.” She let out a softer giggle than usual.

“Oh shush, you’re the one who made me cry. You’re too much for me Stevie. You can act all tough as much as you want, but you’re really just a big ol’ softie.” She said before peppering his face with kisses. She tapped his thighs before moving back to the stove and oven, checking over the food. “Are you taking the party home tonight or are they spending the night? Dusty didn’t tell me.”

“I think they’re sleeping over, why?”

“Do you just want to sleep over too then? We could make breakfast tomorrow for them; maybe take them for a day trip or something?” Y/N asked calmly, beginning to get dishes out to serve dinner.

“Uhh—yeah, sure. That could be nice.” He cleared his throat, clearly becoming flustered.

“Calm down Stevie, it’s not like you haven’t spent the night here before.”

“That was when we weren’t dating, I want to be respectful.” He said, sitting up a little taller. This made her fully laugh.

“Steve.” She said, giving him a look that just screamed, ‘are you serious right now?’.

“Okay, okay! But if your brother says one stupid thing, I’m out.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” She said, not believing him in the slightest. She went over to entrance of the living room. “Guys, dinner’s ready.”

They all found their way into the kitchen, got their food and went back into the living room, food propped up on their laps. “Did you decide a movie yet?” Y/N asked from beside Steve.

“We can’t agree on Nightmare on Elm Street or Sixteen Candles first.” Lucas said softly, he was clearly the center of this argument.

“Dusty, put in Nightmare on Elm Street, we’ll watch this now rather than right before we go to bed.” The movie played through, members of the group jumping every so often when things got scary. Y/N had herself tucked into Steve, as if he was protecting her from the horrors of the movie.

As the night passed on, Claudia came back from work and watched some of the movies with the kids, they ate a load of popcorn and shared a lot of laughs. It was weird to not have Eleven or Will here, hell it was weird to see Nancy come into the video store without Jonathan. It was as if a piece of their hearts were gone. But this was how they were healing, they were spending time sharing love with one another. Y/N began to yawn and feel tired, somehow cuddling closer and closer to Steve by the second.

“Okay, I think it’s time to get this one to bed. “ Steve said towards the kids, lifting the arm covering Y/N just a smidge.

“Hey! No! I want to finish the movie!”

“Y/N, don’t kid yourself. You’re gonna be asleep in ten minutes.” Dustin said, mocking his sister’s ability to stay awake. She glared at him for a few seconds, communicating with him through their minds, just like siblings do.

“Fine.” She stood up and folded the blanket that was just covering her and Steve. “Come here, give me hugs goodnight, each and every single one of you!” The kids stood to their feet and gave her a hug. Over the past few months, Y/N had been way more open and affectionate with each of them, seeing as how precious the days with them are. They never knew when another battle was going to come again, so she had to show how much she cared every single day. She swore that to herself after what happened with Hopper. Max had started to cling on extra long, clearly re-finding the comfort of a sibling in Y/N. After Billy had died that night, she could never be the same. Sure Billy was awful, and sure Max hated the way he treated people, but he was still her family. They had still been through so much. Y/N was happy to take on any familial role to any of them, knowing how desperately they all needed it.

“Goodnight guys, I love you all so much.” She said before darting up the steps, followed closely by her boyfriend. They meandered through her bedroom, getting ready to go to sleep at their own paces, moving in synchronous motions none the less. They crawled into bed and faced one another.

“I really do love you Stevie. A lot.”

“I really do love you, Y/N/N. So, so much.” He gave her a kiss and pulled her into his chest to fall asleep.

Steve and Y/N’s relationship was one that people saw coming, but could never truly have imagined how beautiful it would really be. They were each other’s favorite people to start and end the day with. They could talk about anything and everything without judgment. Yeah, they fought sometimes, but that’s completely normal. All in all, these two shared a bond of happiness, trust and memories. From the moment they met, their lives were intertwined. Even through the period of time where they were no longer friends, or when they were facing the awkward in-between, it all meant something. It meant that they would fight the good fight, and they would do it together. Because to Y/N, Steve was the song that the morning brings.

taglist: @mochminnie @queen1054 @prettysbliss @voidnarnia

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n

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ridasverkisto · 4 years

Note

who are your top ten black clover characters and ships (romantic, platonic)? talk about them!

Oooooooh. This is gonna be a long one so buckle in. I’m also splitting the answer into two—so this is top ten ships, and I’ll do top ten characters in a separate post, because this is long. 😅

Before I get going, I’m just going to say this is in no particular order—I’m listing them in the order they come to mind, as I love all of these pairings for different reasons so it’s hard for me to rank them. I’ll also preface that for most of my pairings it usually doesn’t matter much to me whether it’s romantic or platonic, so long as they’re not. Y’know. Actual siblings/family/etc. Also for the purposes of this ask, I’m leaving out stuff like...the Black Bulls as a platonic ship tag. They’re found family, it’s sort of a given, so this isn’t going to focus on that. And before anyone asks, yes, I have crackships. I am not apologizing.

[If this needs a page break to keep from clogging tags lmk, btw]

1. Magna/Luck (and/or Magna & Luck, it’s the same to me)

What can I say? I’m a sucker for two dumbass best friends who share a brain cell living their best lives. Their dynamic is fun and interesting—Luck literally views Magna as fun and interesting and he loves bothering him because of how he reacts, while Magna started out hating it but grew incredibly fond of Luck’s antics.

They’re dumbasses, but they’re loveable dumbasses who bring out both the best and worst in each other, and I just love the way they interact. It’s great and I love them both so much 💕

2. Finral & Langris

Okay okay so. I know there’s baggage here, because Langris is an entitled little asshole trashbaby, but hear me out. Finral gets to be an older brother, exasperated with Langris and trying super hard to be a good sibling, while Langris is still a trashbaby but a softer one. Like.

They are Peak Sibling Energy, because I can see Langris insulting Finral because “polite interaction with my loser brother, how tf?” But the moment someone else tries to insult Finral, Langris gets annoyed. It’s the younger sibling Rights, only the sibling gets to insult the other siblings and if you try to get in on that fuck you. Meanwhile, Finral learns to be the responsible older sibling to Langris, and steps into being more responsible in other parts of his life while repairing his relationship with Langris.

Not going to lie, a lot of my love for this ship is because I’m probably projecting my own relationship with my own brother onto them to some extent, and my love for proper Sibling Energy has no bounds because that shit’s hilarious when done right.

Let Finral and Langris develop the weird half-unspoken language of siblings, let them reference embarrassing things and blackmail each other over stupid shit like “who’s going to go refill the teapot” or something!! Let them be petty and loving and protective as they learn to be siblings again, because growth!!!!

3. Julius & Yami & William

Why yes, I am a polyshipper. But mostly what I really like about this one is the history and the dynamics between the three of them.

On the one hand you have Julius, who’s hugely respected by the other two, basically mentored/parented them both, and loves them both a hell of a lot. (You can’t look at the way Julius looks at Yami and William and tell me that’s not love, fuck you)

On another, you have Yami; he’s the outcast, loner, stranger in a strange land who was given a support system and place to belong by Julius. He also struggles to understand the less forthright William, and is fiercely loyal. Like. This man loves and respects Julius so fucking much, and it’s shown through such small gestures, it’s amazing.

And finally, there’s William—who couldn’t chose between Julius and Patry, yeah. Who’s a coward and a troll and hides behind his words and masks, but has made the choice to atone for his mistakes. He feels a lot, and is so clearly trying to be better it hurts.

The way the three of them interact has a lot of history and intricacy behind it, and even with current events in the series, I really really love their relationship with each other. This isn’t a ship I love for fluff, but for the tension and aching weight of history and growing up that lies heavy on it. It’s got this lovely sort of pain to it that feels like nostalgia in the summer heat, knowing nothing is ever going to be like it was once and still deciding to hold onto what you have with both hands.

I never said I ship for fluff and romance—I’m here for dynamics, and these three have amazing dynamics. (I will note for this one that it’s one that I can’t see as romantic at all. Not the least bc Julius was literally in his twenties when Yami and William were like 15, bc ~fuck that shit~)

4. William/Dorothy/Rhya

Is this a crackship? Yes!

Have these characters barely if ever interacted on screen? Yes!

Am I probably the only person who thought of this ship and wants to see content for it? Yes!

Do I give a fuck? No!

Not gonna lie, I know this is a crackship of massive proportions. But I’m here for the dynamics and the dynamics here have the potential to just be so damn cathartic, okay?

If I go on a deep tangent about this ship it’ll end up being an entire essay, so that can wait for another day, so I’ll just...give you this: these three have a lot to give each other to challenge and help each other grow. There’s a lot of potential, and tension, and catharsis here. The contrasts and dynamics between the three of them would be interesting and immensely entertaining.

I’ll also shamelessly admit that a good portion of this is also fueled by my personal head canons of William being a trans guy, Dorothy being feminine presenting nb, and Rhya just straight up being pan and attracted to strong people. What can I say? I know what I like lmao 😂

5. Yuno & Asta

I’m a sucker for good friendly rivalries. Especially ones full of so much mutual respect!!! Like, they both respect each other and care so fucking much is amazing ❤️

And don’t get me wrong, I get the people that ship them romantically and I’ll read it; but I see their relationship as more sibling rivalry/platonic than anything else.

You can’t look at Yuno being a Dramatic Bitch to get on Asta’s nerves and tell me that’s not Peak Sibling Energy, because I tell you I have done the exact same to my own brother. Let them be dorks and friends and brothers, bc it WORKS.

6. Rill/Charmy/Langris

Yes, yes this is another crackship. No, I do not care! And yes, i am aware it will very likely never be canon.

I just really like the image of Langris being reluctantly folded into the dynamic of two cinnamon rolls who could probably flatten him if they really wanted to. And Langris slowly coming to the realization that he actually really likes them and cares for them, even if he is a bit tsun-tsun about expressing it sometimes.

Plus, y’know, Rill and Charmy won’t indulge his asshole-ier behaviors, and if he pisses Charmy off he’s very likely to get his ass kicked.

I can’t really explain it more than that other than I just really really like the dynamics with this trio and I hold it very close to my heart 💕

7. Finral & Vanessa

Let them be friends!!! Let them be platonic best friends!!!! I love their dynamic, esp if you expand on it and take a look at how Finral and Vanessa can play off of each other. BEST FRIENDS.

8. David & Letoile

I know everyone likes to think of them as the chaotic one and the no-nonsense one, but consider: Letoile getting wrapped up in David’s shenanigans bc they’re just as ride or die as Magna and Luck are. Everyone thinks of her as the other holder of the Golden Dawn’s self restraint, and she sort of is, but her standards of what should be restrained is very different from Klaus’s.

9. Julius & Marx (can also be Julius/Marx, but only prior to the whole deaging thing)

Wholesome ship! It’s already obvious that they care about each other a lot in canon, so let that be expanded upon and developed more. It also adds the fun bit that the issues with Julius running away from his paperwork become even more comical with the added context. It starts to feel less like a subordinate yelling at their commandeer and more like an old married couple or something 😂

10. Leopold & Asta & Yuno & Noelle

Three competitive dumbasses and the exasperated one who makes it worse. I love them all and I think they make the best fucking quad friend group;; let them be friends, please. Please. Just the shenanigans they would get into makes me cackle with glee.

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nobodysdaydreams · 4 months

Text

If Pryce and Cutter hate the youths so much, then why don't they move across the universe to get the marriage counseling they clearly need and stop making their BS everyone else's problem?

(Or my reaction to Episodes 59-60 of Wolf359).

I said I would have self control. I said I wouldn’t listen to or react to anymore Wolf359 this whole weekend. But guess what dear readers? As usual, I lied, to you and myself. Sadly, I am weak. Now, with my confession out of the way, let’s get into it!

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom @lovelyladylavie

Episode 59: Crash and Burn

"Oh how fun. Come on kids, scream if you want to go faster." It's trippy that when I hear Pryce talk for a moment I'm like "Hera?" and then I realize. Also she and Cutter really do act like criticizing and mean disappointed parents.

"But just a small fire, and look it's out now!" good point Doug.

"This time you finally killed us" Congrats Doug!

"It's a fire on a spaceship, you shouldn't need explicit instruction to know it's a bad idea" "You don't know the first thing about commanding Douglas F. Eiffel" LET HIM KNOW DOUG!

"Cyborg De Vil" Eiffel really does have the best nicknames.

"I'm just a poor little old lady" Oh, I've met old ladies like you Pryce. Terribly entertaining, but awful all the same. Hated their own children too. At this point, I'm just waiting for your sad little backstory.

"Nobody says "thank you" anymore. Kids these days..." Pryce, maybe when you do something worthy of thanks, then you will be thanked.

"If it seems like I'm wrong, you don't have all the data" Well geez, I hope that pride doesn't kill you.

"Why are you asking us to read the values for you?" OH GET HER MINKOWSKI.

Okay, Pryce, in fairness to Doug, I think we've well established that most characters in this show are "metaphorically blind" in one way or another.

"Blinded by my own survival manual" it's fitting to be honest. The next edition? No, we don't need another edition Miranda.

"Well this should be easy!" Doug...Doug when is it ever easy?

Well gang, it looks like the gang's not getting out of this one this time. I will miss you all. Minkowski and Doug most of all. Kepler and Pryce less so.

Calling Pryce's husband is unfortunately the only plan. Let's see how he feels about wifey being in danger. This is either gonna go one of...potentially a few ways, and I'm very interested to see his reaction.

Will he leave her to die in space? Will he feel bad about that? Will he give up an advantage for her?

Wait. Is this Hera? Oh it's Marcus and Hera. I love the juxtaposition between Doug and Pryce and Marcus and Hera. I guess they both have a common interest. Nothing brings people together quite like it.

Oh gross Rachel's here too.

Skin alive whoever designed the flight's pod system? But this is so arbitrary...if all their enemies had been the ones to get blasted off, Cutter would give the man a promotion. For a guy who only promotes "the best" a lot of this is really just luck.

Wait. GUESTS???

Oh they got Lovelace and Jacobi. Oh dear. At least they can't kill or control Lovelace.

"I can't do much without her" I see. So she is the brain's behind Cutter's little happy murder business operation.

"Part of my signature look" Jacobi's sarcasm is growing on me the more he uses it against the right people.

"Pretty please with sugar on top" OH SO CUTTER DID HEAR JACOBI SAY THAT AND THREATEN TO SHOOT KEPLER. I think those were the exactly words he used too.

And speaking of that episode, we're back to singing about beer! 🍻Jacobi really is (formerly)evil Doug. 😂 They even sing the same song.

Is Pryce threatening to...EAT Doug? Well this is creepy.

Pryce, shut it. If you're so much of a grownup, stop acting like a pouty child.

Geez all Pryce knows how to do is complain. I guess Cutter is into that. For some weird reason. "Do I have to do everything around here." All you do is make trouble.

"You can't afford to take a chance on this" CALL HIM OUT JACOBI! I love his arc, I love his arc so much, it took way too long, but I'm so happy he's gotten here.

Oh dear. Is Jacobi in the right headspace for this? "Prettiest pumpkin princess at the ball?" Well good for Jacobi. Also very similar to the line Pryce gave to Hera. It's scary how much they sound and speak alike.

That is true. It might need to be a self-sacrifice mission. If Jacobi misses, Cutter kills him, and Eiffel and Minkowski don't survive. It's a tough situation, especially because we're not even sure how many lives are at stake here. But Jacobi, the whole point of self-sacrifice is that the people making the sacrifice agree to it, or there's literally no other way.

Yeah, Doug, Pryce is not gonna be reassuring. That's not in her generation's vocabulary.

Uh oh. Jacobi, I hope you know what you're doing.

Oh dear. Marcus seems testy.

And how much longer do we have with Rachel and Reimann? (Yes, I was corrected on the spelling).

"Just get it right this time Marcus" wow she is demanding.

Ah...there it is.

...or not...

...Jacobi?

...DUCK BOY?

Well they got them. But what happens now?

Oh great Marcus' slow clapping. And let me guess, he kills him anyway?

Business to catch up on? Pryce doesn't sound too happy.

And yeah Minkowski, hold her at gunpoint! (Though in my experience, people like her don't fear death, rather they complain it's not coming fast enough), but whatever gives you the upper hand.

Episode 60: Terms and Conditions

What's with the beeping?

"You are alright?" Strange that Rachel asks that. I guess she'd be the one to notice he's quiet.

Ah. The sunset. Very fitting.

Westerns. Cutter probably saw some of them down at the old timey picture show when he was a wee lad.

Yes, yes, "the bigger picture". But what if there is a bigger picture to even your story, Cutter? One that you're not in control over?

Cutter knows what's about to happen. He knows it's time to choose. Work wifey or scary evil plan? What's it gonna be old man?

"Who is it?" 😂 I love Doug. I love him so much.

"We could have a cup of tea" oh gosh Cutter really is every old person stereotype.

"Reflect on the working conditions. Are you fostering a supportive company culture? One that values the contributions of its employees?" Doug is the best. Doug is the best.

"If you ever want to see your worst half ever again" 👏 Tell him. TELL HIM.

So now Cutter has to a choice. He can go Legend of Korra and kick Pryce to the curb, or he can drop his tragic backstory and try to come to an understanding.

"Can you guarantee the safe recover of Dr. Pryce?" "96%" Hm. Cutter doesn't seem happy with those numbers.

Special Projects? "Similar to you while still not you. You will see what you miss and say what you don't want to" interesting. So that's why Cutter keeps Rachel around.

"How possible would it be to complete the mission without Dr. Pryce?"

DANNGGGGGGG... Rachel asking the real questions.

"I don't know what your partnership with Dr. Pryce means" Interesting...so Cutter kept that even closer to his chest.

"Before I decide, I want the information" Cutter is unraveling.

See this is why you shouldn't talk when Cutter can hear them.

"Handle this personally?" Did he just crack his knuckles? Is he going to try to fight them? 😂

Neat idea? Is Cutter gonna make his own radio show?

Kepler and Lovelace are speaking for them? This is weird. And unnecessary unless some other mischief is a foot.

CUTTER IS MAKING HER DO THE "MM-HM" 😂😂😂

Kepler reading out Eiffel's words too 😂

Cutter's promises are stupid. And taking the collar off Hera doesn't mean that Pryce can't do something else terrible.

"Those are big promises" That's basic human decency.

"That's one thing. I'm giving you three. What else?"

Kepler and Pryce are two people. I love how it clearly shows Cutter views Kepler, who he's having Lovelace talk to, a disposable.

"You wouldn't lift a finger to help anyone if you didn't need them for something." CALL HIM OUT. CALL HIM OUT. 👏👏👏

"With all due respect to you Warren, that Dr. Pryce's return is worth two of your demands" wow, Cutter just went there didn't he?

"We won't annoy you" "I'm not sure you can promise that" "First off this is...this is your boy, Douggie Fresh at the mic" 😂 I knew it was Doug when he said the "won't annoy you" thing, but having him use Kepler like this is amazing. "Gumming up the works" I love Eiffel. I love his whole speech.

Is Cutter making her slow clap? Cutter and Eiffel really are a theatrical duo.

Reject your terms? Taking advantage of you guys? You should be asking for way more. That's very true. They should ask for way more. They really should. But um...what is Cutter doing???

Ugh. It's like Cutter is still trying to teach them a lesson. Like an evil twisted mentorship figure.

I have a bad feeling about it too.

"You two crazy kids still there?" Shut up Cutter (no offense Isabel).

Cutter is gonna destroy the sol when it leaves. He has a plan to do so.

"No catch" THERE IS ALWAYS A CATCH.

"Talk to us baby" Aw, I'm so happy Hera loves it. 💕🥰

"Tell us who you are and what you're doing up here?"

YES! THE TRUTH AT LAST.

Ah, Doug has figured it out. Cutter is just ecstatic.

"Super old, look like you're 28, no need to sleep or eat, know everything, obsessed with aliens..." Oh Doug thinks they are aliens.

Not a bad theory Doug, but I feel like you're not correct.

I feel like they're about to say something like "no silly Doug. We're not aliens. Don't be an idiot. That would be over the top and ridiculous. We're obviously cyborgs from the past and future who have travels here to enslave all of humanity and rewrite the course of human history. Which is SO much more reasonable."

Also given that Lovelace WAS an alien, it's not that crazy of a guess. They're being a little unfairly mean to him right now.

Modified???? Wait, no, no deal, what does modified mean? Explain that first please, explain it now.

Send Kepler first. Cutter doesn't care about him.

"You want to stay with us" "No Boy" oh dear. Looks like they're in the middle of a little marriage spat. "You'll never be rid of me 214" I knew it, Pryce has a thing for keeping Hera under control.

Yeah, what did Jacobi do? Hopefully that alien blood works quick.

OH WHAT IS THE TEA THE BOOMERS ARE FIGHTINGGGGG!!!!

"Better to be lucky than good" something tells me you won't be for long, Miranda.

Rachel is going with them? Um. It doesn't sound like either of them like that. "Fill you in on the details" that's obviously code for something. I don't like how fast Rachel agreed to that.

Oh dear. Trouble in paradise it would seem. Worried about wifey, Marcus? "Be quiet. I was worried." "For me?" "I was." "You're not immortal" "yet" "of course, I was worried for you."

"Your only task is to back my play" wow. They really ARE a toxic married couple from the early 1900s. I guess Cutter couldn't stand the thought of losing his precious cold detached mean evil science early 1900's house/work wife.

"Friends?" "Partners." Hm.

This relationship fascinates me. Miranda shows him hardly any respect or gratitude. Yet Cutter seems to care about her in a...weirdly toxic way. Though I do wonder if Miranda feels the same.

Very true something has to be wrong here. Cutter wouldn't let them leave unless...

Wait. Unless it was irrelevant to his plans. Unless them getting back to Earth didn't matter.

"That's not why you're not gonna leave" ...um Rachel. What are you talking about? Please fill us in on the plan.

Oh Kepler's here too.

THE END OF THE WORLD?????

Wait...oh my gosh...

So...there will be no Earth to return to? And all the people on it?

ARE PRYCE AND CUTTER TRYING TO MAKE A DEAL WITH THE ALIENS???

Well I did say in a private discord chat that it was odd that they mentioned Minkowski’s husband and Doug’s daughter only to never bring up threatening their lives again. I guess they really saved that one in their back pockets for the grand finale.

Kepler, how much longer are you going to go along with this? If they destroy the Earth, everything on it goes too, including your beloved Whiskey.

Rachel, idk how much longer you think Cutter is gonna keep you around, but he clearly only cares about his evil science arm candy, and that's not you or Reimann. He'll toss you both under the bus when he's done.

Cutter, wifey seems a bit unstable, and Pryce, your man seems to not be valuing you as an equal, and as much as I dislike you, I'm still not cool with that on principle. Perhaps the two of you ought to see to some marriage counseling, somewhere...oh I don't know...far far far far far away on the other side of the universe? Where you two can finally stop having to deal with those pesky youths you claim to hate so much?

Well at least the thing about Cutter naming the AI and putting on a charming appearance and Pryce hating it and acting so cold towards them makes so much sense now. Cutter wants to play house. House where he casts himself in the role of a toxic, stereotypical, controlling, abusive, and terrible father, with a flimsy "I care so deeply" facade and horrible taste in women, but house all the same. I guess it makes sense given when he was born. Pryce views the AI and their employees as things, Cutter views them as their children or rather their "creations" but at the end of the day, their views amount to the same thing: tools from which they demand unquestioning obedience that they can cast aside if and when they chose to do so. Absolutely disgusting.

Wait. 2 hours?

THE LAST EPISODE IS TWO FULL HOURS.

And Volte Face is one hour. But then...when will I have the time to...

oh boy. Stay tuned everyone. Hopefully I'll get my answers soon. Thanks for reading!

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relish-the-freezing-silence · 3 years

Note

hi I was asking for a matchup please? I’m a 5ft 8in African American, my personality type is INFP-T, I’m a Taurus (don’t know if that’s relevant), um I enjoy drawing, playing my violin, and biking, I’m known as the aloof one in the group, like I’m usually asleep and never know what’s going on, but most of the time I make them laugh a lot, I’m also known as like a tough person who’s very sassy, but I don’t want to, I just wanna be soft and nice. I’m a homebody, I never go out. Surprise surprise I’m a hufflepuff lol, I like sweets a ton, it’s actually a problem, I really love to read and write and I also like sunny cloudless weather. I dislike gray days, being alone, and loud and rude people. If there’s anything I’m forgetting please lmk idk what I’m doing :P

Oh, goodness, I’ve left this for a long time, haven’t I...?

Well, if I start apologising now, I won’t be able to stop, so lemme just give you one apology, and hope that it expresses how sorry I am because I really am and wish I’d completed this sooner ;-;

Also, there’s nothing missing except for a sexuality, but I usually then just ignore gender and go with personality! I hope that’s okay with you!

ANYWAY- on with the matchup!

I match you with...Shoji Mezo!

. . . Playing - ‘Riverside’ by Agnes Obel

1:05 ───|────── 2:53

|◁ II ↺ ▷|

ıllıllııllıllı

Okay, let’s start off with the fact that Shoji is severely underrated.

He’s an absolutely sweetheart, a gentle giant, always looking out for his friends and, well, anyone in general. He’s respectful of boundaries and is willing to go out of his way to make other people feel always comfortable in his presence.

While he’s friendly to everyone and works well with...all of Class 1-A, I can see him preferring an S/O on the quieter end of the spectrum. It’s not that he doesn’t like loud people, he just finds it easier to communicate with someone who’s on the same level of energy as him.

He’ll find your slightly oblivious nature amusing and endearing, and if you ever fall asleep near him, if he deems it necessary, he’ll gently wake you with a fond smile under his mask.

Honestly, I think he’s a very non-judgemental person and will let you be who you want to be around him without feeling pressured to act tough or soft. Sassy comments will be chuckled at, maybe with a hint of exasperation, and your more gentle side will be welcomed with a tender kiss to the forehead.

Being a homebody won’t be a problem with Shoji! While he’s fine with being out and about, you’ll tend to find him in his room reading or doing something quiet; his room is fairly simple XD

I bet you, if you ever want to plan out a world (world-building) for your writing, this guy is the man to go to! He’s really does have a good head on his shoulders and I headcanon him to love reading old fantasy books. So, with his vast accumulation of fiction book knowledge, I bet he could help heaps if you ever need it for your writing.

He won’t insist on him reading it, he’s very content with what he has (which is you!), but he’ll be happy to give it a look over if you want second opinions. Mind you, he’ll be very respectful!

When spending time together, probably something quiet inside, he’ll be happy for you to bounce ideas off him. He’s open to on and off conversations about whatever plot bunny’s been bugging your mind.

Your ability to make people laugh will be greatly appreciated. Things can get pretty stressful in the Hero Course, and a laugh is hard to get out when all he’s got on his mind is Hero work and the schoolwork the class was given. One laugh is worth everything, however. Whether it’s intentional or not on your part, a chuckle after a hard day is like his chest is filled with clouds, making him feel giddy and relaxed, just slightly.

He’s not one for being clingy, being a more independent type of person, but keep in mind that he priorities others over himself. He’ll be happy to keep you company in order to keep you from feeling alone, and if you ever have any doubts about his enjoyment during the times that you guys spend together for your sake, he’ll assure you, with absolute sincerity that you really do make him happy, even if you can’t see the smile gracing his lips every moment you’re together.

Shoji, being in the Hero Course and everything, will love to go out biking with you. He may look strange with his huge, hulking form crouching over the small handlebars, and he doesn’t not expect you to make a few sarcastic comments, but he couldn’t care less. Spending time with you is what matters, and cycling acts as a good way to remain active, as well as giving him the opportunity to see you doing something you enjoy.

While you’re fairly tall, being 5’8, with Shoji being...6’2, you measure quite little next to him. He doesn’t point it out to tease you, but whenever he gives you a hug, the size difference is painfully — absurdly — obvious.

Also, just quickly adding to the hug remark! Shoji definitely gives the best hugs. He’s the last to let go, letting the other person decide when they feel the hug has lasted long enough, and those arms can and will embrace your entire body in a warm and secure hold.

I think, overall, this relationship provides security and stableness.

A quote I think this relationship would match:

“Without humanity you can’t love. Love means looking beyond the self to the other.” ~ Frederick Lenz

═ ∘ ◦ ✩ ◦ ∘ ═

#bnha matchups #mha matchups #matchups #shoji mezo #boku no hero academia matchups #my hero academia matchups #bnha matchup #mha matchup #I changed up the style a little bit! I think it looks a little better ^^;#chance apologises once again #thanks for being so patient (*´∀｀*)

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nana-n-nono · 3 years

Text

Starborn

cw: mentions of death, mild injury, fire, lmk what else

SBB says: This thing is gigantic and got completely out of hand (at a word count of 7726 oh my god) but I hope you like it anyways and find some interesting lore points! Please do yell at me in the ask box! I'll try to have Jeno's up in less time but honestly it probably won't come out until end of August just before the event ends anyways lol.

They say in Soladium that being born is as instantaneous and explosive as a supernova. Jaemin always thought that was a bit odd, considering supernovas only occur when stars die. There's never an explanation either, when he asks. It's always, you'll understand when you're older.

According to the history books, the kingdom of Soladium was birthed the same way. It appeared entirely overnight. One day there was barren land under twin suns that were far too hot for life, the next a single sun and a brilliant realm built of white gold and molten lava. People questioned of course. Where did the second sun go? How did they do this? The first king answered none of these, instead going forth to conquer surrounding realms with swift and deadly force. These realms were by no means small either, the ancient lands of Tonitrua and Beongae being some of the lands razed. Soladium was fearfully hailed as a kingdom built in a single lunar cycle and as an empire built nearly as fast.

Now, those days seem like only stories, exaggerations from history. Memory is imperfect in that way. But Jaemin, and really every royal of Soladium, knows they're real. Knows that Soladium on the surface may seem like a cheerful, festive kingdom built on the foundations of honesty and sincerity, but that it lives on a foundation of bloodshed and deceit. It's hard to reconcile at times. You would look at someone like Jaemin and think, how can he be lethal?

True, Jaemin does not look particularly deadly. He's tall but he's not broad like his brother, nor does he seem clever like his sister. Often people will whisper that Jaemin was raised as a carefree child and that his parents spoiled him despite his status as the second prince, the second heir to the throne. Jaemin's inclined to agree with them to some degree, he was spoiled and he is carefree. But like everything in Soladium, that which is bright is built on something dark. And he is no exception to that rule.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Concentrate. Feel the heat around you. Feel it rise, heat always rises. Feel the intensity, that life breathes into—

"Your highness?"

Jaemin's head snaps up, a pure deer in the headlights look on his face as he's startled out of his training. The messenger sighs to themselves, fondly of course. It's well know that the second prince will get wrapped up in anything, and that he needs to be reminded of his other duties. But no one has the heart to tell him to stop, not when he looks so excited when he succeeds. Not when he looks so absorbed, eyes locked into whatever he’s studying when he’s concentrating. Jaemin clears his throat. “Yes?”

“I apologize for the disturbance, but your mother is requesting your presence in the courtyard.” The messenger sweeps into a bow and then straightens up, opening the door. Ah, so then it’s an immediate summons. The prince sighs, getting up and dusting off his trousers. Casual wear for the day, stuff he can run in since he had morning training with the weapons master. He nods to the messenger to lead the way, following closely behind. What could mother be summoning him for?

Even before entering the courtyard, Jaemin could sense his mother. Not through heat sensing, though he could do a bit of that as well, but rather through sheer presence. The queen was a formidable woman, even by Petramus standards. Tall, regal with a hard set jaw and narrow eyes. She was terrifying, at first glance. But underneath all that was a woman who based her strength in kindness, someone who was never afraid to stand up for justice and happiness. She didn’t back down on anything, didn’t back down from anyone. Though Soladium was a patriarchal society, the queen stood on equal ground as her beloved the king, and Jaemin admired that so.

The ideal behind marrying a Petramus princess to a Soladium prince was to form political alliances, of course, but also to try and instill a new set of values in the children of their union. Soladium’s undying determination and pride, Petramus’s stone cold analytics and cleverness. But it seemed there was still some way to go, with the first prince falling more into Soladium’s habits while the first princess fell into Petramus. Jaemin, it seemed, sort of fell into neither. An oddball.

As soon as Jaemin steps into the courtyard, the quiet chattering ceases and the queen turns with a beautiful smile. "My baby," she coos, reaching her arms out from where she sat. Jaemin immediately steps into her embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple as she does to his.

“Mother.” The queen gestures to her side to the empty space reserved for him. The bench is quite small, especially considering the size of the queen’s skirts that flare out but Jaemin still manages to sit down without accidentally sitting on the silken fabrics. “What is it?”

“My baby,” she repeats, but it’s different. A touch sadder. Jaemin leans into her touch when she cups his face with one hand, thumb caressing his cheekbone. "Oh, my precious Jaemin-ah."

He stays quiet, unsure what to say. What to ask. There have been few times in his life that his mother has taken this tone. When his grandfather died. When he was so ill they thought he may not survive. This tone is always accompanied by the pain of loss, potential or real.

"As you know," she starts softly, "You'll be fifteen soon." Between when he sat and when she began speaking, all the servants had stepped away to the edge of the courtyard, leaving only the two of them. Jaemin nods. Of course he knows, it's his own birthday for one but for two it's his Blessed day, so the entire court has been preparing for this. His birthday is happening in only a few days, but the planning for festivities has been so much longer. Months of color design, decor placement, outfit tailoring, inviting foreign royals. Of course Jaemin knows.

He also knows that Blesseddays are special. They're secretive and sacred but after a Blessed day, people change. They grow into themselves, whatever that mean for them. For Jaemin's older brother that meant becoming more confident and bold, bordering brutally honest with every passing day. Jaemin's older sister embraced her innovative spirit, devoting all her time to strategy and intelligence. That wasn't to say they weren't those things before their Blessed days, but after... It was like they'd been shocked into realizing their life purpose or something. It was, frankly, a bit terrifying for a young Jaemin. And just a bit lonely, though he'd never admit that.

Jaemin doesn't know what any of that has to do with the queen calling him today though. The way it works is that three days before the day of celebration, the person in question (Jaemin in this case) is brought somewhere (of course he doesn't know where yet) by the last person in the immediate family who had their Blessed days (Jaemin's sister in this case). Then they undergo some kind of ritual for the three days and emerge on their birthday to undergo a more public ritual. The public one is more for appearances than anything else, but it's an important ending to the whole process. The only part the queen needs to play is in the public ritual so... What's the whole point of this?

She doesn't say anything for a while, for a time that seems to stretch on and on though it's likely no more than a few minutes. Jaemin has his father's eyes but his mother's smile. A smile, no matter how small, is always the warmest thing in a room. A smile that embodies Soladium, as he's been told again and again. He offers this smile to her now, as reassuring as he can.

"I just wanted to see you," she says finally. Some part of Jaemin is confused and maybe a little disappointed. This seemed like something so serious and yet...? But he just smiles wider and tilts his head in her touch, childlike despite no longer being a child. Young, but not a child. That just seems to make her sadder, though she still smiles and boops his nose with her free hand like she did when he was a toddler. "You'll always be my baby, okay? No matter what, you'll always be my baby."

Jaemin really doesn't get it, maybe this is a nostalgia for him growing up? Still, he nods and replies, "Yes mother."

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin is awoken just as the sun begins to peak out from over the mountain tops. The break of dawn, three days before his birthday as promised. His sister, dressed in white robes with simple gold trimming herds him out of his room, ushering him into a bath first before dragging him down the hall, down the stairs, down down down. Jaemin has never been this far down. Jaemin hasn't seen another living soul since he woke up either, not in the bath, not in the halls. No knights, servants, gardeners... no one. His skin prickles at the loss of heat.

He's dressed in grandeur unlike his sister. A white shirt of satin, hand sewn with thread that is so fine and delicate it looks more like it was woven into the shirt rather than sewn in. Gems embellish the hems on the sleeves, the bottom of the shirt, the collar. And then simple slim fit trousers, in the same fashion except with some extra curling embroidery creeping up his legs. For once, he looks every bit the prince he's meant to be. And yet he feels so vulnerable, the satin unusually light and thin.

"Jaemin." His sister stops at the base of the stairs. How long have they been walking while he got caught up in his thoughts? A long ways down if the endlessly spiraling stairs above him have anything to say. It's entirely pitch black down here too, not a single light in sight. Jaemin only knows to turn to his sister by sound, by instinct. By...

Oh.

He inhales sharply. When he was first introduced to the idea of heat signatures, Jaemin was confused. Which was unusual, because nearly every living person in Soladium can pick up on heat signatures one way or another. But Jaemin had no idea what they were talking about. He was a rare case, someone who could not innately tell where heat was coming from. So they trained him from the beginning, and now he's made enough progress that if he concentrates, he can pick up strong heat signatures. But only strong ones. His sister's is not very strong, but what she's standing next to...

It's blinding. It's so, so very bright and Jaemin wants to take a step back. Something they teach you about sensing heat is to avoid things that are too hot. Most things will not fall in that range. Certainly not humans, at their internal 37°C count. Not even boiling water at 100°C. The limits alter per person but the general consensus is to cap out around 300°C. Some of the more talented individual can push it to 500°C. But this... Jaemin feels like his skin is melting, his throat is closing up, his eyes--

"Jaemin," his sister says softly. And just like that, he's back in darkness, gasping as he collapses onto the cool stone floor. For a few minutes, there's just the sound of Jaemin's wheezing. Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. Do it again.

"I won't be going any further with you. For the next three days, you'll be here alone. This place has everything you need, food, clothes, water, baths. Anytime during those days, you need to confront it. It doesn't need to be now, and it doesn't need to be in the last hour. But you must. If you don't..." She sounds so far away, echoing softer and softer. Jaemin wants to call to her, but he can't. He still can't breathe. Everything is unsteady. It's too dark, completely and utterly dark, and yet he still feels light fading around the edges of his non-existent vision. "Be brave Jaemin." A pause, so short it might not be a pause at all really. And then infinitely softer, so soft that he can barely catch it. "Until last light."

——————————————————————————————————————————————

When his eyes open again, Jaemin is 100% sure he's awake and yet it doesn't feel like it at all. Right. All consuming darkness. How Jaemin didn't break his neck walking down somehow eludes him, he's always been clumsy. He slowly gets up, but his body isn't stiff as expected. The stone beneath him is hard and cold, and yet he feels like he's just slept on the softest, warmest bed in the whole world. He rubs his eyes to try get some sensation out of them, but. It's just dark. If he strains his eyes to see then it'll definitely hurt him later. So instead he closes them, to try and trick his brain a little.

He doesn't really want to stand with how his legs gave out earlier... Earlier? How long has it been since his sister brought him down? God he doesn't know at all. He's not hungry though, so maybe it hasn't been that long. He stretches his legs, wiggling his toes and by the feeling of it, he might be okay to stand in a few minutes. But for now he just keeps stretching, slowly but surely waking up every part of his body.

After he feels enough blood in his limbs, he stands and though he wobbles a bit, he's stable enough to not fall over. He'll take that win. He doesn't recall at all what this area even looks like, so he just takes a step in a direction. There's faint heat signatures around, but most of them are near muted completely. Not entirely bizarre since Jaemin doesn't have a good track record of heat tracking anyways, but definitely inconvenient. He wants to squint but-- oh wait. His eyes are closed. After a momentary battle of what to do, he settles for scrunching up his nose and stepping towards a cluster of signatures, small ones. When he feels around them, he thinks ah okay, so this is food. It's simple stuff really, bread rolls, some fruits, a block of cheese. Probably? It feels like that anyways.

To its left are something that feels definitely like clothes, though he has no idea what kind. They’re soft though, so it probably doesn’t really matter. Who’s going to see him anyways in all this?

Somewhere further left is a kind of hallway that Jaemin finds by feeling along the walls. There at the end, the heat signature rises to a more normal view. A hot spring maybe? It’s close to that if it’s not. A slight misstep confirms it though, and Jaemin, disgruntled, hauls himself out sopping wet.

After changing into some dry clothes, he finishes cataloging (which isn't much, just a lot of soaps and an actual bed) and then sits on the floor to just... Ponder. His sister said he needed to face it, but what is it? His own weaknesses? And then there was that bright light. He's fairly certain that it had to be a hallucination or something. After all, if he saw it after being in the dark for so long, wouldn't he go blind? Or... Is he blind? No way... Except there's no way to tell because even with his eyes open, the darkness is as thick as ever. Fear sinks into his blood, cold as ice. But he shakes his head, it can't be. It can't be.

He stretches himself out on the bed, apprehension still crawling on his skin when he settles. There's a lot to consider here. So, Jaemin thinks, let's take it step by step.

First: Jaemin must complete some kind of task during these three days. His sister mentioned it doesn't matter when, only that he do it. Caveat? He has no idea how time is passing here.

Second: There are faint heat signatures all around but they're muted, even the hot spring that should be very bright. Could the mysterious light have something to do with that?

Third: What happens if he doesn't complete the task?

Third: What happens if

Third: What

Jaemin blinks, suddenly dizzy in his attempt to sit up. It's as though the bed is pulling him down, coaxing him to rest his head and close his eyes and let go of this thoughts. Oh, he thinks as he sinks back down. Maybe it's been a day already. Maybe it's night now. There's no reason for him to be sleepy though, he thinks even as he yawns. After all, doesn't that mean he was asleep on the floor longer than expected...?

——————————————————————————————————————————————

"Jaemin-ah!"

He turns, blinking. It's not dark anymore. Not at all. In fact it's very bright, so much so that Jaemin should be squinting against the shine. And yet he isn't, instead slowly twisting around with a growing smile. He knows that voice anywhere.

"Jeno!" And there in full view is Lunaste's only prince, eyes crinkled in their usual moon crescents. Jeno looks good as always, wearing a tighter fitting formal shirt tucked into newly tailored dark pants. On his ears sparkle the mark of an heir, small gem from Lunaste's mines. They're a shimmering dark blue, not unlike the night sky before the sun fully sets down. Jaemin half runs over to hug his best friend, reveling in the clean and cool feeling that Jeno always gives off.

"What, did you miss me that much?" Jeno laughs, squeezing Jaemin just as tightly. "C'mon, let's go sit. It's been ages since I last saw you."

Jaemin genuinely has no idea where they are but Jeno seems to know it well, so the younger boy just follows behind with a spring in his step. They don't walk long, just enough that Jaemin gets a bit whiny to Jeno's endless amusement. "Jenooooooo--"

"Shush you big baby, we're almost there." Jaemin's pout does nothing but make Jeno smile wider, tugging them both along until they're suddenly in some kind of clearing. A huge meadow? Jaemin's never seen it before, in either Soladium or Lunaste. But he just accepts it, trusting Jeno. The older boy takes them to a patch of grass that's mostly clear of flowers, laying down first and gesturing for Jaemin to join. It's nice out here, a light breeze ruffling the grass and the suns not too bright. Wait. The suns?

"Jaemin-ah." Jeno's voice sounds so far away. Jaemin looks to his side, and yet there's no one there. He sits up, looking around but Jeno's no where to be found. The meadow is still there though... As is a plume of smoke, slowly encircling the edges of the horizon. "Jaemin!" The boy scrambles to his feet, heart racing as he hears his best friend yell. "Jaemin!!"

"Jeno?" Jaemin yells back, eyes widening in horror at the smoke approaches. And where there's smoke, there's fire. The meadow's burning up. And Jeno... Is nowhere to be found.

"Jaemin you have to run!" Jeno's voice sounds more strangled, like he can't breathe. Did he get caught somewhere?

"Jeno! Jeno where are you!" Jaemin coughs as the smoke starts to crowd where he is, ash falling onto his skin and burning him just like real fire. There's no where to go though. Even as Jaemin turns, he's confronted with more smoke, more fire. "Jeno!"

"Jaemin you--" The rest cuts out, the flames roaring too loudly. Jaemin swallows dryly, crouching down to the floor. What can he do? He's going to be completely surrounded soon. There's no where to go--

"JUMP!!"

Jaemin's eyes snap open at the feeling of a hand on his elbow hauling him up. Jeno??? He's scuffed up, scratches and blooming bruises across his cheek and on his hands. Jaemin hesitates, mind racing too fast to comprehend but Jeno whips around with his eyes blazing. "Jaemin trust me. You have to jump." Jump where? The solar prince looks down and oh. There's a hole, about two times his width. It seems to go straight down, just down down down endlessly. Jaemin's logical brain doesn't understand, but his instincts do. And his gut trusts Jeno.

So he jumps.

Down

down

down.

Jaemin gasps, hands clenched tight in the sheets as his eyes fly open. Where is he? Why is it dark? Is he underground, is this--

His voice is barely above a whisper. "Jeno?"

Silence stretches endlessly, swallowing his soft call.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin doesn't really dream. Or at least he never remembers his dreams, so this is really unusual and quite frankly very unpleasant. He'd taken a long bath right after waking up, wincing at the sensation of hot on his skin but settling in after anyways. He's awake now, definitely.

The dream... Well, maybe nightmare would be more appropriate. Jaemin shudders thinking about how vivid it was, how he still feels his throat closing up at the vague thought of ash. Soladium residents have some heat resistance, sure, but that sensation was... Like being surrounded by...

The sun.

Jaemin blinks, understanding slowly coming through. The sun! But wait... Wasn't that just a legend? Two suns? One shot down--

No. It was never fully explained what happened to it. Jaemin just assumed it was shot down as part of the story, but in fact... What if it wasn't?

This is crazy. Jaemin, you're nuts. You're losing it. And yet in his heart he knows he's right. Something about this ritual has to do with the sun. The second one that vanished without a trace the day that Soladium was established.

You need to confront it. It. Not yourself, not them, but it. A non-human entity.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin spends the rest of the day not thinking. Honestly his head hurts, waking up with a hammering heart and a confused brain was not been a great way to start the day. And then all that thinking immediately after in the bath... Yeah, Jaemin's calling it for day 2. He still has at least 24 more hours in day three. And then... Does he technically have part of his birthday? Maybe?

He spends the day nibbling on apples and cheese and crackers. Another thing, the food is always prepared in easily eaten bites. Apples are sliced, sometimes peeled. The cheese is always cubed. Weird. Magic isn't really prevalent in Soladium, not really. The only thing really would be their heat control. Even the heat sensing doesn't seem that magical, more a byproduct of adaptation to the landscape. But there's definitely something magical about this whole thing. It's a bit unsettling.

Like the previous night, Jaemin starts to feel the pull of bed at some point, probably around the peak of the lunar cycle. He yawns as he settles down, curling up on his side and falling asleep.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It smells like earth. Like damp earth. Jaemin doesn't hate it, but he's not the fondest fan either. Rainy days are nice, and he like them just fine, but they're not his favorite. That's just how it is. But he likes them when he can be with Jeno, then it's fun. Running around with Jeno chasing him is fun. Spending the day inside talking over snacks is fun. Finding new hiding places and cozying up is fun.

"Jaemin-ah."

"Jeno-yah."

Jeno's always been there. Jeno is reliable, like how the lunar cycle always follows and leads into a solar cycle. They may be princes of different realms, but somehow they're still best friends. Constant letters, excuses to visit. Sometimes the queen dowager of Lunaste will whisper to the reigning queen of Soladium, ah they're kindred souls.

"Jeno, I'm scared." It should feel scary to even admit that and yet it doesn't. It just comes out. Jaemin still has no idea where he is, has no idea where Jeno it. Everything's blurry, like he's looking at it through some thick frosted glass. But Jeno's there, he knows it.

Jeno doesn't ask why. Doesn't say that it's going to be fine. Instead he says, "But are you going to let it stop you?"

Jaemin almost wants to say yes. It's infinitely scary to think that perhaps the thing he has to face is what he thinks it is. But it's infinitely more terrifying to think that if he fails, he might never be able to see the people he loves again. After all, no one knows the cost of failure for the ritual, only that if you fail you don't come back the same. Or at all sometimes.

"No," he says instead. "No, this is something I have to do. To move forward." To be with everyone, with you.

Jeno smiles and Jaemin feels a warm hand over his own. "That's right. It's something you have to do."

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Jaemin takes a deep breath. He hasn't tried to heat sense much outside of what's necessary, but even then he's gotten so familiar with the space he doesn't need the sensing to tell him where everything is. But he has a feeling he should try again, maybe it'll show him what's there.

Sitting in the center (or what he thinks is center) of the room, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Concentrate. Feel the heat around you. Feel it rise, heat always rises. Feel the intensity, that life breathes into objects. Take a deep breathe in, do you feel the warmth in the air around you? Stretch your senses out, feel for the things around you. Exhale slowly, do you sense the warmth of your own breath, your own life?

Slowly but surely the heat signatures return, muted as they were before. Jaemin furrows his brow, hands clenched into tight fists that rest over his knees, legs crossed in front. He can feel that prickling on the back of his neck, warm across his back. He peeks open his eyes a little at a time, seeing heat wrap around in wisps. The signatures of the ordinary objects have all but disappeared. The only one left is the one seemingly behind him, emitting curls of heat that flutter around the room before vanishing. It's much too bright to be the bath.

He doesn't turn around immediately, he'd be a fool if he did that. "I'm not sure if you can speak, but I..." He pauses, unsure how to say what he wants to. In the end, he settles for a simple, "But I'm ready." Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut again as the light starts to flash, brighter and brighter until the entire room is engulfed in white.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The first thing Jaemin registers is screaming. A mix of voices, adults and children, men and women. Incoherent, though he picks up a few repeated words. Run! Hurry!

He's afraid to open his eyes, but he forces himself to and it's definitely not within the castle. It doesn't even seem to be a dreamscape, with how vivid everything is. Jaemin finds himself in the center of a jostling crowd, everyone seeming to sprint in the same direction. He turns to what they're fleeing from and...

He sees the lion emblem of Soladium. He sees gleaming gold breastplates over white chainmail. He sees a soldier slam his sword into someone who is fleeing, and watches as red stains the pristine silver metal.

Jaemin's going to throw up.

"Nana! Nana what are you doing standing there? You have to run!" What? What the hell, how can this be? It's Jeno, but he's... Younger. A lot younger. Is Jaemin that young too? Only seven, maybe eight? And how can Jeno be here, he's not a resident of Soladium. But wait, is this Soladium? Or...? "NANA!" Jaemin feels himself being yanked along the stream of people.

"Je- Nono, what's going on?" Jaemin can barely keep on his feet, tripping over himself often. Jeno's hand pulling is the only thing keeping him upright. "Nono, wha--"

"There's no time, we need to get out of--" There's a fuzzy sound, not unlike TV static.

"What??? Out of where? Where are we??" Jeno's younger look alike looks at Jaemin like he's crazy. He repeats the word, but again it's just static. Jaemin's really losing it. Jeno twists down an alley, escaping from the crowd but still moving. It's a little like going down the stairs with his sister, Jeno just keeps taking him down and down and down. At some point they enter some kind of tunnel, barely big enough for them. Jaemin has to crouch a little as he walks.

It's dark.

"Nono?" Jaemin can still feel his touch on his wrist, but he can't see him and Jeno doesn't answer. After what seems to be hours but could be minutes, they stop.

"Nana." The voice speaking is soft, a blend of an older sounding man and a young boy. "Nana, I'm gonna go ahead okay? Wait for me here?"

"Y-yeah," Jaemin-- Nana-- says quietly. "Come back soon?"

"Always."

And then Jaemin is alone.

For minutes. Then hours. Maybe a day has passed. He doesn't know, he hasn't moved. A voice inside whispers ever so faintly, maybe he won't come back. But Jaemin believes in his best friend, or this person who looks like his best friend. So he waits.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

"Jaemin?" He blinks, yawning. When did he fall asleep? Is he still in the tunnel? He can't be, it's too light out. The air is too fresh. Jaemin snaps awake, scrambling up. He nearly headbutts the person above him, who rears back just in time to avoid breaking their nose. "Jesus!"

"Wh-- Where am I? What time is it?" Jaemin tries to calm himself down, taking stock of what's around him. It's some sort of courtyard like area, but there are people everywhere. In the same clothes. Yellow blazer coats and black pants, white button up shirts. A uniform?

"You're at school and it's twelve thirty." Jaemin snaps his head to the side to look at Jeno, who's rubbing his nose lightly. "Damn, I think you actually nicked me a little with that iron head of yours."

"Jen?"

"Huh?" Jeno stops touching his face and Jaemin almost wants to cry at the sight of his best friend. Jeno from Lunaste has near perfect pale skin, his mole stark against it. Jeno-- Nono-- from wherever had the youthful tan of carefree boy. This Jeno looks just like he'd expect a teenager to, skin a bit pocket marked from acne scars, uneven redness all over, more freckles and moles. But it's Jeno, it's definitely Jeno. Jaemin really is going to start crying. “Jaem what’s wrong?”

Shit is he crying? Like for real? Ugh, gods that’s embarrassing. He shakes his head, pressing his sleeves to his eyes and heaving a breath. “It’s nothing Jen,” he mumbles. At least it’s just light sniffles and not full blown sobbing. That would be hard to justify. “Just tired and yknow how it is.” Why’s he talking like this? Maybe it’s just a tic of this Jaemin.

“Ah.” Sweet, understanding Jeno, who never questions when he doesn’t need to. “Yeah that assignment was pretty rough, I was going to strangle Hyunseok when he almost deleted our files. Here.” Oh a handkerchief. It’s just like Jeno to be a little old fashioned like that. Jaemin takes another minute to collect himself, stuffing the cloth into his pocket.

For a minute it’s just quiet and peaceful. A light breeze drifts across, ruffling the grass and just barely shifting Jaemin’s bangs. This is nice, yeah. Jaemin leans back on his palms and tilts his head up. It’s warm.

“So Jaem, I was asking about Friday? Cause I know you said you had student council stuff—” does he? “and you know how caught up you get when Donghyuck slacks off.”

Jaemin doesn’t even have to think about it for a second. “I’ll make time for you.” He always will. But of course he can’t say that part here, this isn’t his Jeno even if the beaming, crescent eyed smile he gets looks so familiar.

“You’re the best Jaem!” Jeno grabs a bag and slings it over his shoulder, offering a hand out to Jaemin. “Thanks for always being there for me.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin says with a smile so genuine it hurts his cheeks. “Of course Jen, always.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

How much more must he go through? Somehow it feels a little like he’s been through countless iterations, countless universes. Him as a gangster, Jeno as the innocent bystander. Jeno as a celebrity, him as a devoted fan. Sometimes it’s Jaemin who is cruel and heartless, sometimes it’s Jeno who’s broken and hurting. And yet always the same, Jaemin and Jeno, Jeno and Jaemin. Tied together, always faithful to the other. Not once does Jaemin regrets getting shot at, getting strangled, getting screamed at if it means he can protect Jeno. He never regrets stealing or lying or smashing things if it mean staying with his best friend. Always, he thinks as he fades out of yet another life. I will always be there for you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Sir.” Jaemin turns to see a squire, stiff in their naivety. “King Jeno has requested your presence.” The mere words send shivers throughout his skin, but he nods and dismisses the boy before spinning on his heel.

King Jeno is every bit as regal as Jaemin knew he would be. Midnight black hair coiffed just so under his crown of silver and white gold, dark sapphires embedded as accents. His expression is cold, something Jaemin himself has only seen once in his fifteen years. Somehow he suspects this version of himself has seen it far more often. Jeno looks almost bored, but his voice simmers with anger. “Na Jaemin.” Jaemin swallows but keeps his head bowed where he kneels. He hears a kind of clicking, not loud enough to be shoes but certainly loud enough to be a threat. Jeno’s rings most likely.

“Report.”

Jaemin still doesn’t raise his head as he speaks. In his memories, there are too many blood splatters to ignore. “The Southern Isles have refused to relinquish their control over the pass, they say that… that they won’t unless their demands are met.”

“And what are their demands?” The temperature seems to drop another ten degrees. Jaemin doesn’t want to say it, but he know when Jeno sounds sickly sweet like that… there’s no room for arguments.

“They’ve demanded that their prince be returned to them, no matter what. And that… and that you be removed from power your majesty.” There’s more of course, but those are minor compared to this. Jaemin knows that the Southern prince with caramel skin and a halo of golden curls is alive, but perhaps not for much longer. He prays he’s wrong, but he’s known Jeno for far too long.

For too long there is silence. Jaemin is almost shivering with how tense he’s gotten with every passing second. And then Jeno laughs, a soft chuckle that is so icy, so unlike his own Jeno, that Jaemin almost wants to curl in on himself and scream because it’s wrong. It blows into full, body shaking laughter and Jaemin can’t help flinching when he feels rather than sees or hears Jeno come close. A cold hand tilts his chin up and he meets Jeno’s eyes. Dark, black not brown.

“Is that so,” Jeno says softly. Jaemin doesn’t try anything funny. Jeno’s technically unarmed now, there’s no one else around. Just them. Jaemin could so easily overpower the King if he tried. Jeno isn’t special here, he can’t predict what will happen. And they’ve always been equal in strength. Jaemin could end it all, save the people from war. But he doesn’t. Not that he can’t, he doesn’t. Because this is Jeno, who he chose. “Na Jaemin, what are you?”

“I am your right hand, your majesty. Your shield and your spear to command as you see fit.” A practiced answer that spills as easily as oil over ice.

“Yes, that’s right,” Jeno coos, tapping Jaemin’s cheek. Has Jeno ever been this cold? Physically or otherwise? “You do as I ask.” Jaemin’s heart is hammering so hard he’s surprised Jeno can’t hear it. “And now I ask of you this.” Jeno leans in close, voice a sly whisper. “Kill the prince and send his mangled remains to them. They want to make demands of us? Of me? No. Jaemin-ah, show them who we are.”

Kill. In all the universes, Jaemin has killed before. But this is the first time he’s been asked to by someone he loves. The first time he’s been asked to kill someone he cares about.

Show them who we are. We, Jaemin and Jeno. Jeno and Jaemin.

Jaemin swallows and whispers back, “As you wish, your majesty.” And later, when he’s in the dungeons with a far familiar face glaring at him, spitting insults at him, when he raises his sword high and brings it down with all his force, all he can think is that he promised he would never turn his back on Jeno, no matter what.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s quiet after he plunges the tip into the southern prince’s chest and Jaemin welcomes it. A brief respite between universes, somewhere he can rest. These breaks never last long, some hardly over a minute or two. Jaemin closes his eyes and waits, waits for the next universe to wake him up somehow. But instead he hears a voice, one that echoes like thousands of voices speaking at once.

Have you made your choice?

Jaemin blinks slowly and then stumbles back. Oh, so he’s in a corporeal form for this. Okay. It should be burning hot and blindingly bright, given that he’s staring directly at a sun. Neither sensations occur though and he tentatively steps forward again.

My choice?

The sun rumbles.

Yes. Your choice on your will.

My will?

Yes. That which makes you strong and that which makes you weak.

Oh…

You must decide now. Your will is what you are, but you may choose another way. Be warned child, your will is the strongest and weakest you will ever be. Your other cores may save you from those extremes, but you will never fully involve yourself in your fate. You may end up simply drifting along, always feeling away from yourself.

I don’t want that.

Most do not. However it is an option.

Can I… Can I ask a question?

Of course child.

Why was it always Jeno?

I cannot answer that.

What? Why?

It is simply not my place to do so. I can only answer questions about you.

Was it something I chose?

Yes. In a way.

…

In the last one. Why didn’t I stop him? Would I… would I do that in real life?

That I cannot tell you. I can only show you what could be, given the strength of your will.

What is my will?

Do you not know? Hm... A pause, as if the entity is pondering how best to answer this. You, Na Jaemin, third child of King Na Seomin and Queen Lee Minyoung, are destined to be the strongest ally. Your loyalty knows no bounds. Once you have chosen a person or a cause to dedicate yourself to, you will do so endlessly. Without question, without fear. Regardless of who you might hurt to achieve the goals they've asked of you. Regardless of what might be taken away. You will do what is asked, if that person is who you've chosen. That is your will.

That doesn't sound very good...

A will is neither good nor bad. It is, like everything, something that is altered based on what you choose.

…

It seems you’ve made up your mind.

Yeah. But one more question. Who are you? All of you?

Ahh, but you already know this do you not?

Just checking.

The entity chuckles. Are you ready to make your choice?

“Yeah,” Jaemin says with a smile. “Yeah I am.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“… Min”

Huh?

“Jae… min…”

Oh that’s his name.

“JAEMIN!”

“Gods above what!” Jaemin snaps as he opens his eyes, annoyance vanishing in an instant at the sight of Jeno’s tear streaked face. Actually, looking around, everyone was in various states of distress. His mother had her hands over her mouth, silent sobs wracking her shoulders as she leaned against his father who was pale but wearing an expression of pained pride. “Wh-why are you all crying??”

Jeno’s face contorts in a way that would be funny if not for the fresh wave of tears dripping down his cheeks. “You were gone for so long, I thought— we thought—”

“Gone?” Jaemin echoes, brows knitting together as he tries to piece it together. It must be his birthday right? The ritual shouldn’t last longer than that.

"You— you were— Gods Jaemin," Jeno hiccups, hands wrapped tightly around Jaemin's in his lap. "You were gone, you were—" Jeno can't finish it, instead sobbing again and releasing Jaemin's hands to pull him into a tight hug. Jaemin automatically raise his arms to wrap around Jeno's shaking shoulders, neck getting uncomfortably wet with tears. Jaemin turns slightly to his parents for clarification.

"You were dead, Jaemin," his mother says in a broken but somehow calm voice. She was just sobbing a second ago, how has she collected herself so quickly?

Dead? He was... dead?

"Your h-heart wasn't beating," Jeno cries, "A-and you weren't breathing and— Jaemin. I thought, we thought—"

Oh.

"What... What day is it?"

"It's the day after your birthday."

After?

No wonder... There's never been someone who didn't complete the ritual after their Blessed day. He... Wow.

"I came in," his sister says with an odd detachment, "on the dawn of your birthday. Like I was supposed to. And you, you were just laying there and gods..." Her voice cracks. "You were just laying there and you were so cold."

"When I saw Jaehee in her ceremony, she was sitting there like she was dead too. But she was warm when I touched her, and she opened her eyes immediately. And I saw— I saw the sun in her eyes so I knew. But you," Jaehyuk swallows. "You just didn't. We tried to look but it really was like you were dead Min, your eyes were so empty."

Jaemin squeezes his best friend tighter, throat closing up. "B-but I, I just accepted it like noona said to?"

"Accepted? Jaemin, I said confront. What do you mean accept?"

"Huh?"

"Jaemin-ah," his father says now. "When you meet the second sun, you should have seen yourself in different scenarios." Jaemin nods, that he did. "And you should have always made the same choices." Again, he nods. "And then the final scenario is the hardest, it's the one where you choose. And then you wake up."

"You, you didn't talk to anyone?"

"What?" No one seems to understand. Not even his father. "You spoke to someone? Do you mean in the final judgement?"

"No! No, I mean... After. After I made—" Jaemin shudders at the memory. "After I chose, I spoke to someone. To it."

"You..." Jaemin's sister was always the clever one in the family. "You spoke to it?"

"To them, yeah."

"THEM??"

"Gods them! Yes!" Jaemin reels back, earning himself a yelp from Jeno who gets tugged along. "Them. The second sun isn't just a sun. It's, it's our ancestors."

"WHAT," Jaehee shrieks, lurching forward as if to grab Jaemin's collar to demand what he knows. Ah, so this is what they meant when they said strongest and weakest. Her thirst for knowledge, her willingness to do anything to get it. How similar it is to his steadfast devotion.

"Stop that!" Jaehyuk hauls her back. "Stop, you're scaring him."

Jaemin's... Not scared. But he doesn't understand. "So none of you have spoken to them?" He's met with three mirrored head shakes. "Wow..."

"So what happened then?" His mother asks, the voice of calm despite how frazzled she looks. Jaemin's never seen her like this, pajamas underneath a coat, hair undone. His heart swells at the sight, at how much she loves him.

"They asked me to make my choice. They uh, they told me what my will was and how it might be... hurtful." And they mentioned something else but that's for Jaemin's ears only.

"That's it?" Ah ever shrewd, his sister.

"Yes."

"Why does it matter," comes a muffled whine. Oh shit, Jeno. Jaemin reels back but is held in place by his best friend. "He's not dead, he passed your stupid test. Isn't that enough?"

Evidently not for everyone but no one seems to want to challenge the Lunaste prince. It makes Jaemin wonder what happened when he was dead.

"We should give Jaemin some time to rest." His mother is the first to collect herself, standing and lightly dusting off her skirts. His father is quick to follow, always one to support his wife. "Jaemin-ah, although it's late, happy Blessed day." Jaemin hears the proud, unspoken happy birthday my baby.

Jeno stays behind though, unwilling to let his best friend out of sight. Jaemin understands it, he would be the same. For a while it's just quiet, Jeno clutching onto Jaemin and trying really hard, it seems, to not cry again. And it's like at that sight, Jaemin loses all his strength and pitches forward, pressing his face into Jeno's neck and mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Jen, I'm so so so sorry."

Jeno just pulls him in closer and buries his own face into Jaemin's neck. Jaemin will pretend that they're not both shaking, even though there's no one to pretend to. Cause it's Jeno.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," Jeno whispers fiercely, voice thicker and more ragged than usual. "Na Jaemin I swear I will pull you back just to kill you myself."

Jaemin laughs at that, shaking his head. "I won't. I'll never leave you Jen."

"Don't promise things you can't keep," Jeno sighs back. But Jaemin knows, feels it hot in his chest, that this is one promise he's never going to break. Not even on his life.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes:

- A lunar cycle is just one night. The only special time terms are solar cycle/lunar cycle instead of day/night. If it's a week, it's still called a week.

- While this event states that Jaemin/Jeno have only recently discovered they are princes, this blurb is slightly separated from that. This blurb is set in the full AU but is twisted slightly to fit the bot, thus both Jaemin and Jeno have been princes from birth. So just, don't think about it too hard?

- Inspiration: Stars are born from nebulas in which the gas and stardust in the nebulous cloud begins to collapse in on themselves from the gravitational pull. Stardust is from the death of other stars. This got a little out of hand but those various scenarios Jaemin goes through are like his own lives and deaths, so when he dies in them or when he kills in them, they "piece" together to form his will which is his strongest trait. Jaemin's a unique case where he always chose the same thing. Often people will kind of alternate their choices and whatever is strongest/gets picked the most often becomes their will.

- In the final dream sequence, Nana is Jaemin's ancestor. Naming conventions differ in the past, children would receive a nickname (Nana) and then once they became adults they would receive their formal name (Jaeyoon). In Jaemin's current timeline, you receive the name you live with when you're born. So when Jaemin was born, he was named Na Jaemin and that's just it. I can explain it more if it's confusing. Really I just wanted an excuse to make a Nana and a Jaem compared to Jaemin, yknow?

- The final dream sequence serves as the final judgement by the second sun. It weighs more heavily than others with higher emotional stakes. The reason why people lean into their attributes so heavily is because of this last scenario. In their minds, they have already played through everything that could be and will not deviate from their choices. Thus people of Soladium are considered rigid and stubborn.

- The second sun doesn't always choose to enhance positive attributes. Though Jaemin and his siblings received (in order) loyalty, cleverness and determination, others in Soladium history have received things like ruthlessness, deception and fear. Generally speaking, what attribute is chosen is what the individual's core value is, and has a lot to do with nature vs nurture.

- Don't @ me about plot holes lmao

#celestial royals event #lore.txt

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