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shoichee · 4 years

Text

Red Rose

Part 3 of the Pun Fest collection!

Akashi x Reader

Word Count: 4,355

Synopsis: You made it a challenge for yourself as the esteemed 1st year class clown to get a reaction out of Akashi. Not just any Akashi, however. Boku-Akashi. Things quickly get too out of hand.

Note: I will be trying to avoid describing the “color” of Akashi’s eyes because they are actually a non-diegetic effect, where the animation/visuals are flashy/emphasized for the audience to see, but in the canon universe, they don’t actually look like that and no one will actually see said animations, and such.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“...and after that, his ass fell flat on the floor right in front of everybody! Can you believe that?”

As your voice chimed throughout the halls, your fellow classmates were stifling their laughter but chortles still escaped from their suppressed lips. Hayama smacked your head in utter embarrassment.

“You’ve already told that story to everyone, c-cut it out already!”

“Kotarooooo,” you pouted. “Not my fault that they kept asking for me to retell it again.” You stuck your tongue at him.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, figurative irk marks popping up on his temple. “You needa show some more respect to your senpais!” With that, he started grabbing your head to mess with your hair.

“H-Hey! It’s not my fault that you tried to impress a passerby 3rd year girl by doing a failed dribbling trickshot,” you vehemently protested, trying to rip his strong grip off your poor hairline.

Your classmates were either watching with complete entertainment or with concern for your safety as both you and the Uncrowned King were duking it out and sidestepping each other.

… That is, until they grew increasingly uncomfortable after spotting a particular redhead walking in their direction.

You and Hayama were too invested in the playfight to notice the unforeseen deathly silence and chilled air that accompanied it.

“Kotarō.”

With a simple call from his airy tone that still somehow glaciated the sunniest of atmospheres, he halted both of you (with his hand still fisted in your hair and you still pulling his cheek) to turn your attention to the person to whom the voice belonged.

Akashi Seijuro.

“C-captain!” Hayama separated from you at an inhumane speed that rivaled his lightning dribbling. You stiffened yourself straight like a plank.

You’ve heard the rumors. From whispering gossipers to personal testimony from your blonde best friend, you knew his presence meant anything but pleasant.

“Did you forget that we had practice today?”

Holy shit. You glanced in the corner of your eye to see Hayama paled before he gulped. Was he gonna be okay?

You dared not move a muscle from where you stood, hoping not to attract the basketball captain’s attention, but you knew you stuck out like a sore thumb after seeing how all the students huddled closer to the walls while you were stuck in the middle along with Hayama and Akashi.

“I knew that you forgot, so I came by for your sake so we can all start practice together as an absolute team.”

Ah… there was his infamous favorite word.

Akashi flickered his catlike gaze to you. He didn’t miss the way your body was paralyzed by fear, but he slightly narrowed his pupils at the fact that you almost looked curious about him.

“We’re going.” He gracefully pivoted around to walk the opposite direction in where he came from.

“I-I’ll see you later, dummy,” he whispered, giving you a playful wink before he strode up to Akashi’s pace, but you knew from his tense back that he was scared shitless of whatever inevitable punishment drill he was going to be tortured by.

You recovered from your stupor and tried to ease Hayama with a joke. “Don’t act all tough, Kota! I know you’re gonna akashit your pants!—” You snorted trying to finish your one-liner but finding your own joke funny. “P-pf-pfft, don’t slip on the floor again, okay?”

And just like that, with your words, the students around you eased up and let out soft chuckles.

Hayama turned back around even as he continued walking. “Oi! Watch it, kid!” He made the motions of pointing his eyes to you, but you knew that he was grateful for you in trying to unravel his bundle of nerves.

Akashi, still walking, merely glanced back at your figure, unamused at your “joke” but nonetheless almost impressed that you actually had some type of leadership charisma to be able to uplift a crowd’s mood in an instant.

. . .

Everyone released a huge sigh of collective relief once the basketball-player duo was out of sight.

“Are you insane, (l/n)?” Another good friend of yours went up to your side. “You had the balls to literally say such a thing in front of him? Of all people?”

“Well, it’s not like, I’d get sent to the faculty office because of him…” you muttered. On second thought, you probably would. This was Akashi Seijuro you were talking about.

Everyone started clamoring as they all started seeing you in a much higher regard; some of them even looked at you with starry eyes and others swore to be your new admirers. The rest, though, thought you had just sealed your fate by getting under Akashi’s radar.

“You’ll be missed and honored,” a classmate said, giving a solid pat to your right shoulder. “What type of flowers would you like for your funeral?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, pointing to your chin and staring at the grand ceiling. You turned to them. “Roses as red as Akashi’s hair and the blood of his victims.”

“(l/n), you did not—”

“Oh my god.”

“Is it too late to become religious just to pray for your wellbeing?”

You just summoned chaos in the hallway for the next hour.

---------

The next morning was just another indication of a mild, warm day in Kyoto as you walked past Rakuzan’s school gates. Or at least, you thought the morning would be fine. Even with your thick uniform blazer, you swore that you felt cold chills running down your spine every now and then when you were strolling your normal route to your class.

There’s the cold chills again.

You stopped and looked around your shoulders and behind your back. No one shady was near; they were all too busy chatting with their friends or changing their shoes in their lockers to care much for your presence. Those who noticed you nearby had already given you a friendly greeting.

You hesitantly walked again, being your usual carefree self but now being hyper aware in tracking the students around you. Your eyes widened.

There.

Had you blinked in that moment, you would have surely missed it, but a flash of red flitted around a corner of a hallway. You sighed and groaned inwardly.

Your classmates were right: you were going to die by the hands of a certain redhead.

This was the price you had to pay for not passing up the perfect opportunity for an iconic line.

---------

“Say,” you said turning to your friend once you entered your classroom. “Has Akashi ever shown a side other than being a calm freak?”

“I don’t know if you ever wanna see anything different than that,” she replied, looking up from her homework.

“Imagine him laughing, though. That’d be news of the century.”

“Dear god, I can’t imagine him laughing other than the kind of scheming cackle you’d get from the TV show villains.” You bursted into a fit of snorts while other students, who were secretly eavesdropping out of curiosity after hearing Akashi’s name, snickered.

Another student wedged himself into your conversation. “No one’s ever seen him show any side of him though. Honestly, he’s like a demon.”

“He’s a 1st year student just like the rest of us,” you chided. “Come on, he’s human too. He wasn’t born to be a calculating machine.”

Everyone in the vicinity gave you incredulous looks (for valid reasons, to be fair).

“Hmph!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll prove it to you guys! He’s not as stone-cold as you think!”

“(y-y/n)-san…” Your friend from earlier tugged onto your sleeve. “You’re really fun to hang around with and all, but…”

“Yeah, um… We know you’re competitive and don’t like to back down, but I think you shouldn’t tread into this type of… dangerous territory.”

“Did you already forget what happened with Hayama-senpai yesterday?”

Pretty soon, a large chorus of agreements and mumbles spread throughout your class. Irked, you pouted as you continued to cross your arms.

“I’m gonna make him laugh, and I’ll do it.”

“Uh..”

“Um…”

No one had the heart to disagree with you when you looked like you sparked a fiery aura around yourself as you raised your fists, ready to take it as a challenge for yourself.

Your classmate sighed. Welp, there’s a reason why you got along with Hayama so well in the first place.

You were both so overly enthusiastic and reckless.

---------

You’ve been thrumming your fingers on your desk throughout your classes, staring blankly as you start stringing up ideas on how to accomplish your “challenge.”

Succeeding in making Akashi laugh is like Hayama agreeing to let the dentist extract his snaggletooth. You’re basically asking for the impossible.

Maybe you should’ve settled for a more realistic goal, but then again, this entire ordeal was an entire miracle on its own.

Ah ha. You stopped your finger taps, hitting a fist to your palm in realization. Maybe you just need to get a reaction out of him, and the rest will eventually fall into place.

At the same time, your friend looked at you in worry; you were making odd hand gestures and mumbling to yourself as you went too deep within your thoughts to regard your surroundings.

Oh dear.

---------

Once lunch began, you immediately left class after incoherent chants of “seeyah” and “gotta go” to go look for Hayama’s corpse and pay your respects for the poor 2nd year after yesterday.

You bought sweet bread from the student store for his offering before you went to look for him.

At the sight of the completely lethargic Hayama, you ran up to him in mock grief.

“Ah, spirit-sama!” you cried out, bowing with your hands clasped together (the bread secured in between). “Please at least tell me that Kota died peacefully—” He interrupted you with a chop to the head.

“Ow! Please don’t curse me, spirit! I didn’t treat him that poorly when he was alive…” You winced, rubbing your head in an attempt to soothe the impact.

“I’m not dead, idiot!” he retorted, but his banter lacked bite, and both of you knew why.

You sighed before you flashed him a genuine worried expression. “Are you okay, though?” You promptly handed him the bread, and he immediately did a 180, hooting and having starry eyes at the package.

“Of course I am,” he said, munching on the bread. “Not! He made me do so many extra drills and exercises that I seriously thought I was gonna die!”

“Okay, before you totally freak out, but please don’t freak out,” you started. You told him about your plan about Akashi.

“You’re gonna WHAT—”

“SHHHhhhHHH—” You clamped over his mouth despite him still chewing. “What did I just say?”

“Reo-nee! Ei-chan!” he called out while you still attempted to close his yapper. “Save meeeee!”

The said Uncrowned Kings nearby eyed you two before looking at each other and shrugged; they strolled up to you.

“Oh? (y/n)-chan?” Reo tucked his strands behind his ear. “Has he been causing a ruckus?”

“I have not—”

“Actually, since you’re here anyways, I wanna ask you all something,” you said. “What do you know about Akashi personally?”

“Huh?” was all you heard from the Uncrowned Kings.

“Well…” Reo hummed. “I might know a thing or two about Sei-chan…”

“I’ll just go get lunch,” Nebuya called out.

---------

Day 1 of the Challenge.

Thanks to Reo, you knew most of Akashi’s schedules so you can find the perfect opportunities to “safely” encounter him.

You waited behind a corner of the hall that you knew Akashi would walk through to get to the student council room during lunch. Peeking out, you looked for scarlet hair, ignoring the judgmental (and curious) glances thrown your way here and there.

The moment you saw that everyone instantly collectively vanished, you knew Akashi was extremely nearby. You took a huge breath, expanding your chest to the point of exaggeration, and turned around the corner to finally meet the infamous emperor.

You casually strolled, putting up an impeccable act that you were naturally there rather than staking out the same spot for 20 minutes.

There he is.

You purposely got closer, hoping the closeness between you two would catch his attention. He walked without a change in expression, however, impassively eyeing you before turning his gaze back to the front. That’s when you saw your opportunity.

You almost bumped into him, but you jumped away at the last second while putting your hands up in surrender.

“W-whoa! Wahh, sorry, Akashi-san!” you quickly apologized in a bow. “Luckily, I had my emperor’s eye to foresee the future and prevented any mishap on my part.” You peeked up from your position to see him standing with his back to you, head turned to the side.

A few beats of silence passed before he said, “Your head is too high.”

“Huh?” You were thrown off. That was the last thing you expected him to say. “Wouldn’t my head not be high because I’m bowing?”

He was still assessing you from the corner of his eye, and you willed yourself to return his stare.

“Stay out of my way.”

“Then you should take your own advice,” you huffed, getting up from your bow. “Yesterday morning, I knew you were watching me at some point before you disappeared.”

But he just turned his head back to the front and continued his intended course for the student council room.

Day 1 Results: he scared the daylights out of you instead of you trying to unnerve him.

---------

Day 2 of the Challenge.

What the hell did he mean by “your head is too high?” You still couldn’t decipher his cryptic line. Maybe he just said it to everyone, but that would be really corny of him; he wasn’t that type of person.

Did he think you were too much of a peasant to even talk to him?

You gritted your teeth. You weren’t gonna give up any time soon.

When everyone was dismissed after school, Hayama let you accompany him to Rakuzan’s spacious gym, under the belief that you were going to go home right after.

As soon as you were both in front of the bulky front doors, you marched right in, catching the blonde off guard so much at the fact that you waltzed in there (full knowing Akashi was in there). He couldn’t yank you out in time even with his lightning reflexes, and you skipped around, being careful to stay near the gym walls to not disrupt anyone. You plopped yourself on one of the further benches where you knew none of the players would ever sit, and as soon as you knew Akashi was in earshot (who was ignoring your existence), you smirked.

“Hey Kota!”

“Huh?” He looked up from rummaging through his duffel bag.

“I’ve heard shogi is being played a lot more by people our age for once, but don’t you think it’s such a dread to play such a dull hobby?”

“Yeah, righ—oh.” He swallowed back his answer in seeing Akashi behind you a few meters away, being as still as a statue.

You gleefully looked behind you, hoping for any entertaining response.

Without moving, he slinked his pupils to you before grabbing a water bottle and leaving.

“C-c-can you just drop this entire thing already?” Hayama runs to your side to give your shoulders a firm shake. “I swear to god, you’re not gonna live at this point!”

“You’re right,” you said. “Just for today, I’ll have to retreat before I’ll die.”

“Not just today!” He shook you harder. “I mean stop this for good!”

“Kota, I already signed a death certificate the moment I bumped into him yesterday. Might as well go all out.”

“Oh god, you started this yesterday?”

“Well, I gotta go! See you tomorrow!”

“... More like see you never.”

Day 2 Results: his reaction was inconclusive, but it was more of a failure than success.

---------

Day 3 of the Challenge.

You were pondering about how to annoy Akashi next, both excited and terrified about where this was going to end up.

“(l/n).”

“Y-yes?” You stood straight up from your seat the moment your homeroom teacher called you.

“During lunch, please make your way to the student council room. You’re needed.”

What in the world was going on?

You fidgeted in your seat for the next few hours, shooting anxious glances at the clock every so often. All your classmates’ words of encouragement went through one ear and out the other.

“You’ll be fine!”

“I’m sure a teacher just wants you to help out with some workload…”

“We’re rooting for you!”

As the lunch bell rang, you braced yourself before you promptly made your way to the room that reeked of that particular chilled atmosphere that repelled most students away.

You prodded the door open, slipped in, and softly clicked the door shut before turning around to face the poker-faced terror sitting on his desk, watching your every move.

“Right on time.”

“You called me here?”

Akashi paid no heed to your outburst and continued. “I’ll admit. I’m quite interested in you. You have the innate sense of magnetism that draws others in.”

D-did he just compliment you?

“I would like to put your leadership to the test. You’re now vice.”

“What? You can’t just make a decision like that!”

“I ordered him to quit. There shouldn’t be a problem.”

What the hell?

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell—

Akashi looked at you like he was peering into the depths of your conscience and simply gave a civil smile.

“I hope you will contribute greatly to this school.”

Day 3 Result: a miserable failure.

---------

Day 4 of the Challenge.

You’re stressed, and it’s all Akashi’s fault.

Which made you even more determined to ruffle his feathers and rile him up.

When news broke out of your new “promotion” as vice president, your classmates celebrated for you and your already high popularity skyrocketed. Your teachers didn’t want to hear you talking about quitting when you “haven’t tried anything yet to know if this job was for you.”

The Rakuzan’s basketball starters (minus Mayazumi) were initially ecstatic for you as well… until you told them about Akashi’s string-pullings.

“I’ll make sure Sei-chan won’t do anything, okay (y/n)-chan?”

“Thanks a bunch, Reo-kun… or should I say… Reokunma (Rilakkuma bear)?” You snapped your fingers at him. He just stared at you and patted your head, totally disregarding the fact that you made a pun.

“Just pack in the muscles and you’ll have nothing to worry about!” Nebuya flexed his biceps before getting a scolding from Reo.

“Shortie! Call me whenever you need help!” Hayama dropped his elbow on top of your shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Argh, Kotarō! You’re not that much taller than me at all!” You rolled your eyes. “If anyone, why don’t you say that to Akashi?”

“Say what.”

Oh fuck.

“S-Sei-chan!...” Reo walked over to Akashi. “If you’re here for us, I thought practice didn’t start until much later!”

“I am here for (y/n).”

His irises contracted, highlighting his feline pupils. “I am depending on you as vice president to make this school an absolute powerhouse.”

He still somehow made that sound extremely condescending, like a king encouraging a mere peasant.

You were scared out of your wits, but you weren’t going to crumble so easily. Not until Akashi did first.

“Buh-bye, everyone! Good luck in practice later!”

. . .

The walk back to the office was painfully silent. You decided to break it.

“I’m not taking back what I said, prez, you’re a shortie.”

He paused in his steps. “You run your mouth while knowing no bounds.”

“You’re just a spoilsport, y’know.”

“My orders are absolute.”

“You know, you’re scary as shit, but the whole ‘absolute’ line kinda grows old when I hear it every time I talk to you.”

Palpable silence blanketed between the two of you once again at your words.

This guy can’t even crack no matter what you do.

You stepped into the office and followed him to his desk. He walked to grab a pen from a drawer before he approached you.

He stepped forward, thrusted the sleek, black fountain pen to your face, and jerked back the writing instrument at the last millisecond.

You froze, forgetting to breathe as you felt the pen nib harshly prodding the tip of your nose.

“Do not make me repeat myself. My orders are absolute.”

He then gave you some paperwork and assignments to complete like nothing ever transpired.

Day 4 Results: you thought being relentless in your attacks would prove beneficial, but you’re starting to regret everything.

---------

Day 5 of the Challenge.

Maybe you needed to avoid direct confrontation, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get a reaction from him in other ways.

One small perk of being vice was the fact that you no longer needed to tail around Akashi in order to bump into him “coincidentally,” but you’re not sure if this sole advantage could outweigh the disadvantages, particularly one that might result in your early death.

You’re frankly not as scared as you should be, even though you definitely were at those times you were with Akashi. If anything, it pissed you off that he’s always able to get you to jump out of your skin.

He’s just a 1st year. He’s just a 1st year.

You went to the student council room early to tape on a note to his desk, so there wouldn’t be a chance that it would “fall off his desk” and that “he didn’t see it.”

Roses are red,

I suppose you’re “absolute.”

You’ll still be knocked dead,

And there’ll be no dispute.

You snickered. It was too funny to pass up.

Before you left, you took the time to survey around and get a solid look at the office interiors for the first time (since Akashi’s presence made it impossible for anyone to not pay attention to him).

It was ridiculously tidy, all the wooden furniture polished to the point where their mahogany varnishes shined. Books were meticulously ordered by alphabetical order and genres, and they looked like they were all dusted at every free chance. The rugs showcased simple circles, but the minimalism of them added to the office’s air of crisp cleanliness. The gray curtains gently framed the wide window behind Akashi’s desk. But what really caught your eye was a board of shogi and its pieces tucked away in a corner on a high shelf.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try knocking on Death’s door again.

. . .

Akashi’s shoe clicked on the floor as he opened the door. His steps continued to echo throughout the small room as he walked to his desk to start his work, that is, until he saw your note.

“Oh?” A grin snaked its way onto his face by the time he read the last line.

He severely underestimated you. You unexpectedly had tenacity.

No one has ever defied him repeatedly so openly before.

His expression put the notorious Cheshire cat to shame, his ulterior smile occupying half his face as his eyes widened in excitement equivalent to a predator.

Feeling pumped for the first time in a while, he decided to expend his energy on shogi. He carefully brought down the board and placed it onto his desk, going through the familiar motions of unpacking and setting up a game, before he froze.

There were various pencil doodles on each shogi piece. All of them were variants of :/ and :).

You were taking a jab at his personality as well as his mannerisms.

He barked an amused harsh laugh.

. . .

Day 5 Results: truth be told, you were too scared to see him face to face right after your double stunts; since you knew his schedules, you only came into the student council office when you knew he wasn’t inside.

---------

Day 6 of the Challenge.

Continuing to avoid him would already confirm to Akashi that you were actually shaken up by the high possibility of him retaliating, and you definitely weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

You went to class as always, and by break, you feigned innocence as you strolled into the council room, seeing Akashi leaning against the table.

“Good morning, Akashi.”

He nodded in acknowledgment before he gave a full, predatory smile, his pupils focused on you.

“To continue to fuel diligent work, it’s beneficial to recognize one’s efforts by giving gifts.”

What? Was he not going to bring up what you did yesterday?

He pulled out a single red rose and gracefully tilted it for you to take. You warily plucked it out of his hand.

In a different context, it would’ve been sweet or even romantic, but you knew Akashi ticked a different tune.

“I do hope that you will continue to stay and become even more efficient with your work.”

You gazed at the rose at your hand, confused, as Akashi started walking back out, heading for the door.

You gasped.

“... Did you overhear our conversations the other day in the hallway?”

He chuckled.

“I know the future, because I am absolute.”

“Bastard.” You clicked your tongue, turning to Akashi. “You knew the entire time?”

“Shogi is easily applied to every aspect of life. Move the correct pieces and you will always win.”

You turned back around to avoid letting Akashi see you in an embarrassed state. He played you like an absolute fiddle.

You scowled, and you were about to cross your arms in defiance until the sunlight from the window cascaded on something where your “note” used to be.

“Akashi, what’s that on your desk?” You tentatively walked up to the table to see a stainless glass vase with a single dark burgundy dahlia resting daintily against the inner rim.

His hand was on the doorknob before he turned back to face you.

“Dahliang,” his tone of voice light, almost mockingly saccharine. “Do be careful from now on.”

He left.

Day 6 Results: he completely destroyed you at your own game and sealed the final nail to your coffin with a pun.

---------

End Note: Black dahlias (which are actually dark burgundy in color) symbolize signs of warning, betrayal, and other negative emotions.

#knb #knb x reader #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #akashi seijuro #akashi scenarios #kuroko no basket #kotaro hayama #hayama kotarou #reo mibuchi #nebuya eikichi #rakuzan #knb scenarios #punfest series #bokushi #boku-akashi #ore-akashi

148 notes · View notes

roguerogerss · 4 years

Note

Hi babe! I saw you wanted some requests so here I am! Could you do a Bucky x reader where the reader has secret telekinesis abilities (or whatever Wanda can do lmao) and is forced to use them on a mission. Bucky is just in shock bc his secret crush is a even more of a badass, so when he compliments her powers, she gets flustered and disagrees bc they’re dangerous, so Bucky helps her see the beauty in them? Tysm ❤️❤️

His Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

W/C: 3.9k (eek sorry!)

Warnings: Language (??), that's literally it.

(A/N: This one got away from me a little and I wrote wayyy more than anticipated. I hope u like it though? Idk. I had so much fun with this request, thank u sm bb! Praying that someone reads this, even though it's a whole ass novel.)

————

"Bucky, where are you? We have a minute and eight seconds until this place blows."

Y/N was worried, and, upon hearing her frantic voice in his intercoms, Bucky was too. He was aware that he didn't have long until the bomb detonated, but unaware of just how short that amount of time was. He was caught up in a fight, one that was frustrating in the way that he couldn't shake this guy. "Yeah, be there in five?"

He was being sarcastic, he must've been being sarcastic, Y/N shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples, agitated. "Five what? Five seconds? Minutes? Bucky, I have to ask, are you insane?"

She seemed angry - no, she was most definitely angry - and Bucky silently cursed himself and allowed the Hydra agent to get a hit in, he thought he probably deserved it. "Look, I'll get out. Is there anything you guys can do to buy me some more time?"

Tony had chimed in by this point, telling Bucky that he was 'fucking crazy', ranting and raving to the heavens above about how the entire motive had been messed up and they might as well have stayed home. Y/N knew that she could help him, but that would mean using them - she didn't like to call them by the name that most would use - and she wasn't sure if it was really worth the risk. Bucky would get out, right? He'd work something out.

But time was ticking on, fifty-nine seconds now, and she was unsure of just how right that assumption was. She wasn't even entirely sure that she still had her powers, since she'd avoided using them or telling anyone that they existed since she'd escaped from the grasp of Hydra. Even as she doubted her abilities, she found herself rising from her seat behind the control panels of the Quinjet, next to Steve, and sprinting to the exit to the aircraft.

"Y/N, where are you going?" Steve asked, getting up and following her. The rest of the team were staring now, Natasha and Tony also standing from their places and looking expectantly in Y/N's direction.

"I have something that'll help. Something that you guys don't know about." She said sheepishly, slamming her palm down on the button that opened the exit hatch. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Even though she was promising her friends that everything would be okay, they seemingly didn't believe her, as all five of the other Avengers on the ship - Tony, Nat, Steve, Sam and Thor - followed her out onto the streets of Bucharest, where the public was in awe at the huge, futuristic ship that was sat in the middle of a narrow, cobbled street. Natasha had told them to go home, she'd made the best effort she could to make sure that everyone was safe. However, no one had listened, and so she desperately ushered them away from the place that she knew would soon be rubble, while Y/N ran in search for Bucky.

They had what they'd came for, but that didn't mean that there were no Hydra agents willing to get into altercations with the team. Thor and Steve were frantically fighting off a pack of them, while Tony and Sam helped Y/N, hopefully getting a better view of the streets and where Bucky might be. "Hey, Y/N, I got him. Turn right, next street over. You'll see him." Sam spoke into the intercoms. Y/N thanked him, hurrying off in search of the super-soldier to whom she'd taken more than a liking to over the few months that he'd been fighting with them.

"Buck, I'm on my way, you better be ready to get the fuck out of here." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered why Y/N, of all people, was the one who was coming to save him. He had to admit, he was more embarrassed than anything else, needing the help of the one girl who he'd felt anything for in seventy years. But he tried to brush it off, mostly because he had to focus on not letting a Hydra agent rip his arm off, and answered her.

"What are you gonna do? If I can't fight him off, no offence, but what makes you think you'll be able to?" Bucky sounded breathless, and she could hear the obvious sounds of strain and struggle as he continued to tussle with the agent. Y/N took a deep breath and turned the corner, close enough to hear the ominous beeping of the explosive device that a Hydra agent had planted there in hopes of causing harm to one of the Avengers.

"You know what, maybe don't question it. I have my own doubts, but it certainly doesn't help that you have them too."

The agent, who was currently deep in a brawl with Bucky, noticed Y/N, but all that she was able to think about was the amount of time that was left on the clock. She asked FRIDAY, and a rush of adrenaline and fear coursed through her when she realised that they weren't going to get out in time.

Ten, nine, eight, seven,

Y/N drew her gun and shot the Hydra agent, not missing as usual, and Bucky snorted. "Couldn't have done that earlier?"

Four, three, two,

She knew that this was it. It was either expose the world to her powers, probably be deemed as a weapon and certainly become even more wanted by Hydra, or die, and let her friends die too. She took a deep breath and felt the horribly familiar surge of - what was it, electricity? She wasn't actually sure - coursing through her body, and watched as Bucky ogled at the purple wisps of magic that extended from her hands and the way that her irises seemed to ignite.

One.

Bucky ducked and shielded his face, but looked up again when he didn't hear, nor feel anything that would signal an explosion had happened. Y/N had it under control, holding the bomb together with just her fingertips. She'd thought that it wouldn't happen, that her abilities would've simply subsided into nothingness due to being unused for so long, but she was wrong. She'd done it, and there was no going back now.

And then? The small explosion turned huge, and lurched forwards, setting a civilian apartment building completely alight. Y/N stood, watching, mouth wide open and quite unable to understand the circumstances of what the hell just happened. Bucky was at her side, a hand on her shoulder as he, too, watched the destruction take place. The rest of the team had rushed straight there, each one of them with hands over agape mouths while Steve called for Fire and Rescue and Tony wondered aloud, 'What the fuck is going on?'

Y/N found herself on her knees. She could see and hear Bucky in front of her, worry in his eyes as a few tears dripped from her chin onto her chest, but she didn't have it in her to decipher what his words meant, they all just sounded muffled and like he was speaking a language that she didn't understand.

She didn't know what she'd done, how bad it was, but she could hear the screams of the residents of the building, she could feel them vibrating through her body and ringing in her ears, and that was enough to convince her that her enhancements truly were the worst thing about her, that she really was the weapon that Hydra had deliberately mutated her to be.

--------

It had been hours. How many, Y/N was unsure, but a considerable amount of time had passed since they'd gotten home. The flight back from Bucharest had consisted of Y/N locking herself in a cabin, and the rest of the people on the Quinjet taking it in turns to try to speak to her, to try to understand.

No one, apart from Bucky, (who only had a vague idea), knew what had happened. There wasn't a single person on the jet who could fully understand it, Y/N included.

She was now sat on a sofa in the lounge, chewing off parts of her nails while everyone murmured and tiptoed around her. Tony was speaking quickly on the phone and glancing at her every couple of seconds, Steve was pacing back and forth along the length of the room.

Y/N wondered for a minute what would happen. Would she be arrested? Would something like the accords happen again? Was she about to become the cause of another civil war? Would Tony disown her? Send her back to Hydra? She didn't know. She didn't think she wanted to know.

Wanda and Natasha had come to comfort Y/N at first, sat with her and braided her hair like they did often, and it was nice to think that Wanda knew exactly what she was going through.

However, she'd told them that she wanted to be alone, and they'd dispersed and were sitting quietly in two separate armchairs, watching a movie with Sam. The truth was, she didn't really want to be alone. She wanted Bucky. She didn't quite know why, but she'd always felt calm around him, which was one of the reasons why she'd taken such a shine to him, and she made it very clear to herself that she was at least a little bit in love with Bucky, in a way that was less platonic and more romantic.

She couldn't lie and say that she was happy with the way that he'd handled things, though. As soon as the jet landed, he mumbled something about taking a shower and hurried off to his room, like he couldn't stand to be around her for any longer, like he was afraid of her.

And, honestly? She wouldn't be surprised if he was.

The truth, of course, wasn't that Bucky didn't want to see her, it wasn't that he was afraid of her, it was that she was evidently upset. It was tearing him apart to have to see her like that. He felt like he was obligated to be alone to think about what had happened, because he knew that - realistically - it was his fault that she'd had to use her powers. He'd been caught up in a fight, the bomb that had been planted was seconds away from detonating, she had to do something. Of course, he had no idea that something was going to be exposing hidden telekinetic abilities to the world, but close enough, right?

"I just got off the phone with a higher up." Tony stood in the middle of the lounge, everyone looking at him as he began his speech. "Everything's gonna be fine. Just, maybe don't turn on the news for a couple days, Y/N doesn't need to see that."

"Don't act like I'm a kid, please." Y/N spoke up, making it clear that she was annoyed by the fact that everyone was seemingly ignoring that it was her who had done this. "I did this, Tony. I want to know how much damage I caused."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, shaking his head at her. "No, this is not the time to get all Steve-y on me, okay? You don't need to see it, you don't need to know, so you're not going to. Is that clear to you?"

"Mistakes happen, Y/N. It's not your fault." Steve said from where he was standing, next to the breakfast bar. "What matters is that you tell us what actually happened at some point."

"So, what I'm going to take from that, is that it's bad." She turned from Steve, back to Tony. "I'm not weak, I can deal with what I did, Tony."

Tony snapped, the stress of the situation and the argument from his daughter-figure becoming too much for him to handle, "Goddamn it, Y/N, you really wanna know what you did? Let's see, first of all, you used whatever powers you have, something that you clearly knew about but warned no one of. Second of all, you essentially bombed an apartment building in a poor part of Romania, you literally took from the poor. And now what? Fifty-five people are dead, kids have been left without parents, and that's on my back. Plus, you're being publicly deemed as a weapon until they figure out what's really going on there. So, do tell us, what is really going on there?"

"Tony. Stop." Wanda said, but Y/N was already halfway out of the room, with Tony realising that he probably shouldn't have said what he did and following after her.

"Y/N, hey, I'm sorry, okay?" Tony called, but she wasn't listening. She got in the elevator and left Tony alone in the hallway without a word, tears threatening to spill from her eyes the whole time.

And then, finally, they did. When the doors of the elevator closed, when she could no longer hear Tony's voice, when she was alone, oh they did. She found herself on the floor, face cradled in her hands - the same hands that killed fifty-five people just hours before - and there were tears falling from her eyes, past her chin, soaking her black catsuit.

She felt empty, like her body was a shell and she was simply there, watching herself fall apart. It was a kind of guilt, one that ate at her from the inside and seared through every nerve, every part of her, until she could think of doing nothing but curling up and ceasing to exist. She wanted to yell, scream, punch something, run. Anything that would distract her from how she felt. She wanted to sleep for a week, maybe two, forget about everything and ignore her responsibilities until it hurt less. Most importantly, however, she wanted Bucky. She wanted now more than ever to be his girl. For him to lay with her and tangle his fingers in her hair and whisper sweet things in her ear until the bad things in the world simply melted away.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but Y/N didn't get up, not until FRIDAY asked if she wanted to go to another floor. When she did, however, she found herself taking the wrong turn, to the left instead of to the right, and walking away from her room instead of towards it. Without thinking, she'd already opened the door to Bucky's room, where he was reclined lazily on his bed, a pair of sweatpants on and nothing else, focused on the ceiling.

He furrowed his eyebrows at her when she gave him a tiny little smile, but sighed when he noticed the remnants of her somewhat breakdown on her face. Bucky held his arms open, "Hey, c'mere."

She stepped into his embrace, tears finding their way onto her face again, and let him caress her back and play with her hair until the crying stopped. When Bucky held her, everything felt different, like she could put things into perspective and understand that maybe it wasn't all her fault. "Look, I know you think that this is the end of the world. I know it's scary, but Wanda learned how to use her powers for good. You can do the same." Bucky's attempt at comforting Y/N wasn't exactly superlative, but she knew that he was trying.

"I'm a weapon, Buck." She pulled away from him and sat on the end of the bed, wanting to cry and clawing at the sleeves of her suit in an essay to calm herself down. "That's how Tony worded it, anyway. I shouldn't have used them."

Bucky knew that his next question was stupid, that he probably shouldn't have asked it, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he was speaking before properly thinking over the consequences. "How did you get them?" He reached out for her hand and she let him hold it, getting a rush of exhilaration from the affectionate gesture.

Bucky wasn't usually one for showing how he felt, much less for saying it out loud or doing anything to communicate his feelings, and he wasn't quite sure why he had had a sudden change of heart and almost wanted her to know that he liked her, that, really, he would do anything for her. She didn't meet his eye as she began her explanation. "Well, before Tony found me, I worked for Hydra. Actually, less worked for them and more became their personal lab rat. They did a lot of experiments on me, tortured me, really, made me more destructive than any enemy organisation would know how to handle. And then, I escaped. And here I am, talking to you."

She gave him a sad little smile, one that he would swear had broken him. "I'm sorry." It was a lame excuse for comfort, really it was, but he racked his brain once, twice, and couldn't for the life of him find the right words to say.

"Don't be." Y/N shifted in her place, gaze on her hands which were clasped in her lap. It was quiet and Bucky wished that he knew what to say to her, that he could think of something that would make her feel less alone or soothe her in some way. A minute went by, two minutes, three minutes. The silence might've been comfortable between the pair, but it was certainly uncomfortable between Y/N and her own thoughts. "I should go." She said, standing from her place on the bed without looking in Bucky's direction once.

He knew that he had to say something, anything that would make her stay. The thought of her alone in her room was heartbreaking to him. He grabbed her wrist before she could take any more than a few steps towards the door and she looked down at him, lips slightly parted and one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "You're not a weapon. Sure, Stark said that, whatever, the guy's an asshole. But you're not a weapon, Y/N."

She gave a little humourless laugh, blowing a puff of air out of her nose. "The government apparently seem to think so."

Bucky smiled at her and said, "Fuck the government."

"Oh, so you're an anarchist now? Classy." Y/N sat back down and Bucky's heart felt like it was doing summersaults in his chest, all fluttery. She was smiling, he had made her smile, and it was genuine. As far as he was concerned, nothing else really mattered.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

Bucky sighed and cocked an eyebrow at her, eliciting a laugh from her lips. "You're really going to make me explain myself, huh?" He joked. "Look, You're not a weapon to me. I think you're a badass, actually." She snorted.

"Bucky, I killed a lot of people."

"So have I." Bucky's tongue darted out to wet his lips as he placed a tender hand on her thigh. "You don't see me as the bad guy. You never have, actually. What I'm trying to say, is that all of us have done bad things. Made mistakes, lost control, that doesn't make us bad people."

"I feel like a bad person." Y/N had her eyes trained on Bucky's face, bottom lip held tightly between her teeth as she tried to avoid letting herself word-vomit about everything that she was feeling at that moment. His hand squeezed her thigh gently, and she let out an embarrassing and involuntary gasp that made her cheeks turn bright red.

"Don't. Y/N, I know it's cheesy as hell, but you did it to save my life, right?" Y/N nodded slowly, "So how does that make you a bad person?"

"You're grasping at strings, here."

“What can I say that'll make you feel better?"

Y/N knew what she wanted to hear, that he liked her as more than a friend, that he wanted to be with her like she wanted to be with him, that her fantasies weren't just fantasies, that he really did love her. But she couldn't say that. God, of course she couldn't say that. So, instead, she simply shrugged.

Bucky knew what he wanted to say to her, that he liked her as more than a friend, wanted her to be with him, of course he loved her. He couldn't drop all of that on her when all she'd given was a shrug, right? Wrong, apparently, because the words spilled from his mouth anyways, like he couldn't control himself.

And really, he couldn't. But he figured that she already knew that.

“I love you." He spluttered, and her eyes widened in shock. "Okay? God, I love you. And what you did today? Made me love you even more. I know you probably don't want to hear this, you don't want me to ruin our friendship, and I get it, I do. But, right now, all I wanna do is protect you, and let you know that you're really not the monster that you think you are."

She stayed silent. What could she say? Her head was swimming with ideas, but none of them really seemed fit. She thought that, if this day ever came, if somehow it came down to confessing her feelings for him, she'd know exactly what to say.

She really couldn't have been more wrong.

So, instead of speaking, she found herself simply staring at Bucky, into his eyes. Had he moved closer? Had she? Either way, their noses were soon bumping together and he was searching her face for any sign of disapproval, one that wasn't there, and so he kissed her.

She felt dizzy, lightheaded, like she couldn't quite figure out where her body ended and Bucky's began, and she didn't think she really wanted to. Lips on lips, his hand on her waist and hers roaming his hair, it felt like heaven.

She was on a high, he was too, and the comedown was breathless and just as euphoric as the real thing. "I love you too." Y/N said.

Bucky couldn't help the plainly stupid, goofy grin that had spread across his face. Did he look like an idiot? Unequivocally. Did he care? Maybe, but that wasn't the point.

"I should get back to my room." Y/N said quietly, a small smile on her lips. "Thanks for...uh, the talk."

Bucky laughed and let her get up, walk to the door and open it while he watched in a daze, and then he stopped her. "Let me walk you."

"I can handle myself."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. But I'm not entirely sure that you should."

Really, she was already his girl. She always had been.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x enhanced!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #fanfic #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #mcu fic #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #deadass a novel #sorry #rogues requests #rogue writes #rogue does marvel

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bbq-hawks-wings · 4 years

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I can't believe I didn't think the todo/endev stuff would've been divisive. Like if you don't like it then that's it, you just personally don't want to see it, that's valid, but then you have some ppl calling ppl who do like it and even hori abuse apologists (despite some of them being survivors themselves) but THen you have ppl on the other side insulting those who can't stomach it and, why is this all a thing.

CW/ abuse mention

I'm not all that surprised it stirs up such intense reactions. Unlike saving the world or becoming a hero, the struggle of a household and each of its members healing from a horribly abusive past, complete with all its uncomfortable, different, ugly blistering wounds and scars is way too close to home for a lot of people. Even for those who may have never experienced the same "severity" (in quotes because comparing trauma to silence or talk over victims of any kind is not okay - different forms of abuse is still abuse that leaves lasting impacts and effects everyone differently) they can feel personally connected to that pain.

I'm not surprised whatsoever that Endeavor is such a controversial figure. I would argue that's a good thing. If we come to love his character after lots of growth it's because he's really changed in the ways he's needed to and continuing on that road. If we can't ever get past what he did it's still justified because he's legitimately left the lives of his entire household in shambles - a home full of people who his chief responsibility was to love, provide for, and protect - who will carry the scars (some literal) of what he's done for the rest of their lives.

What surprised me most, however, is how Dabi became to be such a chief spokesperson for the entire family despite being the most removed as far as attitudes towards Endeavor and his actions in response; and how he became the only "valid" victim for so many.

I absolutely pity what he went through. He was absolutely right to feel abandoned. He was abused as much as anyone in that household. His trauma was just as real, just as impactful, and just as valid as the rest. All of his childhood trauma was a result of his father's actions of which Endeavor does need to face and account for. Even his desire to lash out at the objects of his father's affection - his mother and siblings - as a child as a way in his mind to make the pain stop and regain what he legitimately needed in his father's attention and affection is understandable given the circumstances. He's very much damaged, and the onset of that damage is not his fault. He desperately needed help he never got.

But here's where the split happens: at a point he was removed from his family and their influence and became his own person at which point he decided to step on the gas and purposely cause collateral damage on top of the self-destruction.

To be clear, simply leaving that harmful environment and growing up does not erase the damage it caused. PTSD would not be a thing of that was the case. However, Dabi is in one of two states given his behavior: he's genuinely insane (mentally ill to point he doesn't recognize what he's doing - a justified legal defense of insanity) or he's at least lucid enough to know and purposely chose to inflict harm on others because of whatever benefit he feels he gets from it (not able to plead insanity).

Either way, he's a clear danger to himself and others and needs to be reigned in. If he's not in full control of his faculties he needs professional help and has to be taken into custody for everyone's safety. If he is all there, it's right for him to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law because trauma does not excuse making more victims of any kind.

And for some reason, despite these facts well being able to coexist, the fandom doesn't seem to accept that - at least not uniformly and the disparity of opinion is night and day. We have real life examples of people who went through traumatic childhoods who became serial killers, and we don't disagree that they needed to be institutionalized or prosecuted for the safety of the public and their survivors; but Dabi gets a pass somehow?

Perhaps the main divide comes down to some can't/don't/won't make a distinction between Touya the abuse victim and Dabi the abuser. Both can and do exist in the same person, but the focus of his life's goal has shifted to be distinct enough to make that distinction as the audience. As a child, he was a victim who was doing everything he could think to do to get what he needed in a horrible situation. As an adult with ample degree of rational thought and self-awareness, he leverages his damage to justify the homicide he commits against his own victims.

And this especially is why I have pity for Touya, but not for Dabi.

I knew someone who did that - who did that to me. Someone who I considered a friend, even "family" until I set boundaries and started acting contrary to what they wanted when it was like a switch went off inside them. They had a legitimately terrible upbringing and a questionable family situation, at best; but that didn't mean I had to suffer the effects those negative influences splashed into my life.

If something I did made them upset and what they only ever knew was to verbally express, "You're lucky I have the control to hit the wall instead of you when I get this upset" that anger is valid, but I was also right to say, "If this is a problem, I'll do what I can to make it right on my end, but you do not have the right to threaten me, emotionally manipulate me, or lash out in retaliation - and especially not without consequences or pushback. You need help, and I want to help you help yourself; but that was not acceptable. I am responsible for me and what I do, not for how you take things and respond."

It boils my blood thinking back how often they tried to peddle back and make me the bad guy in my own head by trying to guilt me with their own tragic backstory so I'd stay complicit. Clearly, I'm still not completely over it, and I was unpleasantly reminded of it not long ago when nightmares with their face came back to haunt me for the first time in years after just seeing their name again in passing earlier that day. It took a complete stranger I met at a house party telling me after I spilled my guts late into the night for me to even begin to recognize that I was being manipulated and abused.

So yeah, there it is yet again - the Todofam drama is way too close to home for too many people. The worst tragedy in that, though, is that no one can apparently be validated in their opinions unless they bare themselves like I did just now. That shouldn't be the case. These discussions should be able to exist as hypotheticals and discussing canon events instead of requiring everyone who wants to weigh in to have their own trauma validated.

It's easy to pile onto Endeavor because he's the clear "bad guy" in the scenario who will never be able to erase what he's done even if all of his family magically forgave him and he turned into the patron saint of puppies and kittens. But for some reason it's not easy to recognize people can feel the same way about Dabi who can recognize him for being both victim and victimizer.

I wish it wasn't the case. There's a lot of right and wrong and stuff that isn't wrong - just uncomfortable and sucky in this subplot; but fandom is too stuck on insisting in an all or nothing bad guy/good guy to fully appreciate the nuance in this plotline.

#tw abuse #cw abuse

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

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Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic.

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now."

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared."

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't.

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles.

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look.

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks.

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand.

"You two are the worst," he decides.

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets.

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts.

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him.

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back.

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders.

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier.

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way.

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand.

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least.

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away.

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted.

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind.

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband.

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt.

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect.

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall.

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough.

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor.

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both.

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it.

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good.

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things.

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn?

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful?

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon.

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears.

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up.

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is.

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on.

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that?

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small.

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it."

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red.

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since."

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up.

"We're not sure."

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood.

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement.

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn.

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts.

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options.

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight.

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?"

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless.

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it."

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought.

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both.

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that?

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes."

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly.

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they?

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall.

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything.

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move.

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness.

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to."

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!"

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and-

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner.

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen.

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness.

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory.

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence.

The knife hits the wristband.

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards.

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing.

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically.

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken.

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start.

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped."

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief.

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move.

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep.

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?"

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet.

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived.

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious.

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up.

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up."

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off.

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over.

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.

#hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #grian #iskall85 #my writing #ask #haworthiaace #this was supposed to be just the beginning convo #and then i just... kept going #anyway i return from holiday with a fic how are yall doing

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earthendandinbetween · 3 years

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Man I can’t be trusted with anything dear god.🏃‍♂️

The hideout was abuzz with energy, high spirits and cheers from the current success over driving the Dark Heroes further out in the lands. The recent battle from the night before had proven to be a complete success for the worried tribes, and only proved further that things weren’t entirely hopeless. While the Dark Heroes schemed and nursed their wounds, the patapons and their zigoton allies celebrated for the day, a well earned section of rest.

Overall, morale and excitement was high for just about everyone. ...Except for one particular general whom had nestled himself in the still half finished infirmary.

“Would you get out of the infirmary already?” Spiderton hissed, tone low and full of frustration, “You’re not injured, I’m busy, leave!”

“I’m telling you! I think I’m sick,” The dekapon in question snapped back, trying to figure out what was so difficult about this to understand.

“...You’re sick in the head, maybe,” Came the murmured response from the kibaton, “But you’re not sick or hurt physically. You can leave now.”

“Ugh! You’re a horrible medic,” Kuwagattan hissed, rising to his feet to stomp off, “Fine! I’ll figure it out myself, but if I die it’s your fault Spiderton!”

“I’m not a medic, I’m a builder!” the zigoton general said in exasperation, “You absolute thick skulled moron, I can’t believe the audacity of you sometimes. You’ve been bothering me all morning and frankly-”

Whatever vitriolic ramble Spiderton was going on fell on deaf ears as the akumapon finally left out of the infirmary, grumbling to himself over whatever it was that was wrong with him. Did he catch a cold from the snowfields when they passed through on their way to fight the Dark Heroes? Maybe. He hadn’t had that issue before, so why now? Either way, he could deal with it. Just retrace the issues and find the root of the problem! He had colds before, this wouldn’t be any different.

So what was he doing when he first felt like...this? The dekapon tapped his chin as he started for his makeshift home by the barracks, racking his thoughts for where it all started. Early before the sun rose, he was certain of that, when they were still returning from the battle. Everyone was celebrating together, he was talking with the one person he could really stand in that group and---

The tateton had held his wrist and sincerely gushed about how proud he was of the akumapon.

That was nice...He had been thinking about that moment since it happened. Shaking his head, Kuwagattan returned to thinking with a hum. That wasn’t important right now, though there was this very low sneaking suspicion that he pushed away. Just a cold. Or exhaustion? Possibly the adrenaline was still high from returning. That could make sense with how he felt.

With a sigh, he stepped into his little home, opting to just lay back and stare at the ceiling idly. A tell-tale squeak from under the nearby blanket alerted him that a certain babatto had decided to sneak in while he was away. He had gotten surprisingly used to her doing that, and when the creature scrambled over in excitement, he simply gave her a pat on the head.

“Who keeps letting you into my house?” He mumbled, though the tone was more soft than truly annoyed, “I’m kind of caught up with something right now, bat.”

Squeak.

“No! I don’t know what’s going on!”

The babatto clambered closer, headbutting Kuwagattan’s side with another soft chirp, her wide eye blinking once or twice as she tilted her head.

“No! I’m not soft, it’s not….it’s not that!” He shouted, bringing a hand to his overly warm face as he continued “I’ve never been that soft, never will!”

...He was talking to an animal. Who had no idea what he was talking about nor could even suggest or speak outside of squeaking for food or attention. What was he doing?

The akumapon general sat up, groaning in frustration, muffling the sound with both hands this time.

“I’m talking to a babatto!” He hissed quietly, “Oh my god I’ve gone insane.”

With a sigh, he stopped denying the fact that this was not a fever, but a faint purple blush that had cropped up for the third time that day. He couldn’t let anyone see him like that.

Maybe he’d lay here and die instead! That could be a solution. Forget all about this weird feeling and just stay here forever. No one would mind, surely.

...They’d mind. He’d mind too.

It’d go away. He had never felt this before in the past, and it’d disappear by the next morning. Certainly.

What if it didn’t?

Kuwagattan kicked the wall he was laying beside, rolling back into a sitting position with his eye narrowed in complete frustration. He was tougher than any petty emotion, he shouldn’t have even given all this insanity a second thought. Yet here he was, letting all this get the best of him!

Pulling the babatto at arms-length, he decided to use her as a way of somewhat figuring out what to do himself. She couldn’t talk back or mock him, making her basically the best conversation partner.

“Look I’ll just---” He thought for a moment before continuing, “I’ll just avoid Gong until this all blows over. Can’t have emotions if there’s no one there to exasperate them, right?”

In-response to being slightly jostled, the fuzzy creature flapped her wings in minor annoyance, offering up a gentle warning growl.

“Ugh, yeah, you’re right. He wouldn’t let me do that,” The dekapon mumbled with a roll of the eye, trying to ignore the slight pang in his chest at the idea, “Besides I uh….Wouldn’t want to worry him like that.”

...Damn it. There he went again, overthinking how the other general would worry about him and how he found it obnoxiously sweet.

Oh no.

“You don’t think he’s---” Kuwagattan coughed awkwardly, “Worried now, do you? I kind of ran off to the infirmary really abruptly earlier.”

The babatto in his arms shuffled slightly, turning her body towards the entrance of his home with a peep.

“...You’re not helpful,” He grumbled, releasing the bat from his arms, watching her scramble back to the warmth of the blanket off to the corner, “I’ll just. I don’t know. Make sure no one’s looking for me real quick.”

He took a few tentative steps forwards, barely peering out from behind the cloth marking the entrance of the home, glancing about like some sort of paranoid hermit. Gods, this looked pathetic. Don’t--- just don’t think too hard about it. That’s what he told himself at least. It’s fine.

Off nearby were the two zigoton generals chatting amongst themselves. Kuwagattan had to assume that Gong had come to ask Spiderton about how things were going at camp, and judging by the absolute annoyance etched on the kibaton’s face and anger in his movements, most likely he was going off on a rant about the dekapon again. He could guess where this would go from there, and he wasn’t exactly anticipating the results. Spiderton would talk about his admittedly rash choice to visit the infirmary and ‘bother’ the zigoton for most of the morning, Gong would say he would deal with it, and well--

He sighed. Just don’t think too hard about it. He’d say he’s fine and send the tateton on his way for the day. Easy. Just--- claim he’s tired and needs more rest or something. That wouldn’t be worrying nor suspicious.

Or blame it all on Spiderton. That typically worked most of the time to deter any real conversation on the actual issue.

Well, might as well get this all over with. With a deep breath and quick check to make sure he looked presentable and not flushed any longer, the dekapon scurried out of his makeshift home, running up to the two. Spiderton offered an exasperated roll of the eye as he approached.

“Hey what’s the nerd so worked up about? I could hear him from my spot,” He snickered, offering up a ‘smirk’ when the other general growled at him with a cross of his arms, “Did he run out of metal again?”

“Oh I’m not dealing with you again, absolutely not,” The kibaton grumbled, turning on his heel to make a hasty exit, “Stay out of my infirmary, and stay away from my projects you giant--- ugh--- You giant menace!”

He snickered in response, amused at just how quickly he could annoy the other. Incredible everytime, really. The same response no matter what he did, always met with anger and ramblings that he was fairly certain even Spiderton was aware that he did not listen to nor care about.

“Spiderton,” Gong stated softly, trying to break up the tension, “I told you I’d see what the problem was. You can return to your work now, if you would like.”

And as the spider-helmed general departed, all attention was now on him. Kuwagattan fidgeted very slightly despite his attempts not to as Gong held his gaze for a moment, brow quirked in that stupid familiar worry again. This is why he was soft, he was surrounded by overt softness and stupid--- stupid kindness! He should’ve just went on his own way and left this all behind!

...He didn’t mean that. He knew he didn’t mean that. That’s why he didn’t say it.

Ugh. He really was losing his toughness. What a shame.

“Kuwagattan?” The gentle tone shown to him made the dekapon’s heart tick just a little faster despite his attempts to prevent it, “Are you quite alright? I was told that you were hovering around the infirmary today.”

“Uh yeah,” He hated how his voice was lacking it’s typical confidence right now. That’d be picked up on so easily, “I thought I was sick but--- I think I was just exhausted. You know, same reason I don’t do vigils. That and y’know, any opportunity to bother the nerd.”

Nailed it. Perfect excuse.

“You’re positive it was just exhaustion? I would hate for you to be truly ill and not tell us the truth...”

Not the perfect excuse, not the perfect excuse! His body froze up momentarily, gaze darting to the side to think of anything else. He should’ve known this was a bad idea.

“Ugh-- Yes I’m sure,” He masked it under a layer of false annoyance, “Don’t patronize me, I know what I’m doing.”

“...You’re trembling.”

He absolutely was, wasn’t he? The akumapon was completely wrapped up in this stupid emotion and it was getting much harder to hide it. Ugh. Just his luck. This couldn’t end well, something bad would happen and he would have to go off on his own away from the tribes again. He didn’t want to do that again, not when he felt like he belonged somewhere for once.

“...I just have a lot on my mind,” It was a half truth, really. He did have a lot on his mind, but not typically about any...differing situation or emotion currently, “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. Really.”

“Would you like to tell me?” Gong responded, hand moving to gently rest on the top of his own, “You know I wouldn’t mock you for whatever it is.”

Of course he was going to pry like that. There was never hiding anything around the tateton general, he always found everything out one way or another. Some sort of sense of needing to fix or take care of everything that was established way back in zigoton territory. He could keep telling half truths, throw the other off and have him think he fixed the issue. He’d stop then.

If only the dekapon could get his own emotions under control that easily. He felt way too warm and way too nervous. That wasn’t like him at all.

“Uh...I guess,” He grumbled, fighting the oncoming flush he could feel approaching, “Just--- Don’t pry too much about it.”

“If it’s that personal, I won’t. I promise.”

Great. Great. That’d work. Just admit to having some sort of soft feelings for someone, that’d explain his behavior and it wouldn’t have to go any further than that. He wouldn’t know. This could be put to rest very quickly.

“Alright, fine,” Ah, right on cue. He knew the purple color his face was taking was growing more obvious, “I might--- I don’t know. I might--- Be fond of someone- ughhhh- And I hate it. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

He took note of the slightly surprised look Gong offered in response that slowly turned into a polite ‘smile’ as he took a step back to sit, motioning for Kuwagattan to do the same.

“I see!” The zigoton chuckled, “You really have changed a lot, haven’t you?”

Don’t remind him.

“And I am assuming you’re worried these feelings will make you seem weak?”

The dekapon furrowed his brow with a groan, “You know me too well. I hate that. Look, I know you’ll say something about ‘not being weak’ blah blah….Just move onto whatever stupid advice you have.”

Stupid advice...He knew he was absolutely lying through his teeth about how he actually felt about the sincere words that were often thrown his way. He appreciated them way more than the other knew, often clinging to even the slightest praise for days on end. If anything, he was more mad at himself over that.

“Hm, alright, I’ll move past the reassurance,” Gong responded, hint of amusement in his tone, “You’re clearly not in the mood for this to go on for very long.”

“Yeah, you think?” The beetle-helmed general huffed, “I’m not used to this, just--- hurry up so I can like--- I don’t know, move along with my damned life?”

“No need to get aggressive with me. I’m only trying to help,” He bit back the guilt he felt for the slight snap as the zigoton spoke, “If you truly want my honest advice on this, I would simply tell you to just...Be honest with them. Everyone here is nice enough, though I know you doubt that.”

Tell him? Tell him?! Oh no, no absolutely not. He was not risking that at all. Why did he have to go and ask for advice like that? That wasn’t helpful.

“Uh- why would I do something stupid like that?” Kuwagattan held back the rumble of a purr as the other rubbed a circle into the back of his hand, “I want it to go away, not--- that.”

“I cannot help you with that,” Gong quirked his brow, “I’m only telling you what I know typically works. ...Are you possibly scared of rejection? You of all people?”

The hint of a joking prod at him made the dekapon shiver again. He didn’t deserve the kindness and he wasn’t about to admit that, yes, infact, he was very scared of rejection. Ending up alone again. This was ridiculous.

“Pft, no,” He opted to state, “Why would I care about that?”

“Then I’m not sure what you’re so scared of, Kuwagattan,” Gong hummed softly, “I think anyone would be lucky to have you looking after them.”

That sentence was enough to stun the dekapon for quite a few moments, fidgeting aggressively with his free hand as his heart raced a bit faster again. He didn’t mind so much this time, unable to keep back the strange rumble of a purr that he almost forgot he was capable of. Lucky? Really? With him?

Was that maybe a---

Well it could mean--

Did it?

Should he maybe-…

He wanted to, badly. Oh no, what had he done to himself? Of all the days. It...It couldn’t end that poorly, could it? The tateton was too kind to possibly hate him for it, right?

“Well uh, that’s really nice of you to say about me,” he coughed slightly, aiming for just a little distraction for just a moment, opting to snatch both of Gong’s hands in his own, “Really, you uh--- you didn’t have to say that.”

The zigoton glanced downwards, creasing his eye like he was contemplating something, looking him up and down with a hint of confusion. Kuwagattan figured this was a silent question for what he was doing. ...He wasn’t entirely sure himself, honestly.

“And uh well um,” He stuttered slightly, unsure of where exactly to go from here.

The next action he opted for was quick, but shockingly gentle coming from the akumapon. He had remembered, though a bit vaguely, that typically zigotons showed affection through lightly bumping heads. The dekapon mostly remembered this fact from two rather obnoxious soldiers, practically inseparable those two. That was really besides the point, he figured, as he gently pressed his forehead against the tateton’s before rather rapidly pulling away.

Maybe that was a mistake. Too late to take it back now.

Gong tensed for a moment, eye wide and staring almost blankly in shock. The typical, relaxed and seemingly ‘all knowing’ air the general tried to carry had completely evaporated, replaced with that of confusion. Soon, however, he relaxed, red creeping up over his face with a blink.

“Uhm--” Kuwagattan coughed, “...So I--- guess that was obvious enough. Sorry. I’ll--- uh I’ll let you go now.”

Before he could release the other general’s hands, he felt them slightly tighten around his own as the zigoton responded with a soft shake of the head, “No, that’s not necessary, I assure you.”

Oh. He really did---

Oh.

“...I’m quite fond of you as well,” Though it was much quieter than the dekapon’s, he noticed the purr that was occurring as the tateton got slightly closer, leaning up against him to return the affection.

“You---you’re sure about that?” Kuwagattan sighed softly, “You’re not---joking?”

“Of course I’m certain, it would be cruel of me to lie to you.”

“...Okay,” The dekapon lowered himself just slightly to be more comfortable, “I’ll trust you on that...”

This was...nice. He could get used to it, surely.

#Writings (oneshots)#Stubborn Beetle (Kuwagattan)#Wise General (Gong)#Web builder (spiderton)

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danddymaro · 4 years

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Brush Up | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tinsie-Winsie Idea: Bucky decides to teach (f/n) some hand to hand.

A stupid little thing I thought of, and sped through. NGL I kinda wish I would have made it longer, and spent more time on it, but what can you do.

Word count: 1394

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

So before we start they are in a Double Nelson / Full nelson position.

Brush up

(F/n)'s face immediately flooded with a bright burst of red, the color blossoming over her startled, little face, while simultaneously, a small lecherous whimper fell past her lips.

As she released the small, horny peep, Bucky stopped applying force, his eyes wide and filled with worry,

"(f/n)?" He asked with uncertainty, his own face set onto the same unsettled worry she possessed, “Are you alright?” He mumbled weakly, almost afraid to ask.

At the question (f/n) began to fret more, not quite able to answer the man properly, having trouble gathering the words,

"I-It's just... just... I can feel... your... you..." She struggled to say it, the fact that he was still holding her making the situation much more unbearable.

He’d stopped applying the pressure needed for the hold to take effect, and yet, still had her captured in a loose Neslon hold, waiting for there to reply.

'Jesus he's huge too,' She thought with a tickle of excitement, ashamed to be enjoying the brush-up, and to such a degree nonetheless. Granted she’d been tossing all over the mat with him for about an hour now, but it wasn’t anything in comparison to actually feeling him so intimately pressed onto her.

Earlier her eyes had lingered down to the lower portion of his body, wrongly straying to the sight of the notable outline of his manhood drawn right onto his shark grey sweatpants.

‘Maybe that’s why I agreed so quickly,’ She mused with a little, light nibble of her lip, knowing damn well that had it been anyone else who asked, she probably would have weaseled her way out of the lesson like she had so many times before.

However, during the time he asked, she'd been much more focused on how damn beautiful he was to actually find an excuse out,

“You can’t rely on your powers all the time,” He reasoned, giving her stern blue eyes, ones she struggled to keep contact as they fell onto other parts of his body instead.

She listened on, all while pouting, having heard the line before.

“Come on,” he said with a chuckle, “You know I’m right,” He pointed out, receiving the same sullen expression in return.

“Alright,” He hummed, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll teach you myself,” he offered her, smiling as he saw her take the offer into consideration, even if it as for just a second.

“We can start off real slow, practice on some small grapples and chokeholds. And after you’ve got the hang of them, I’ll teach you to get out of them too.” He added with a sure nod, willing to pass on all the knowledge he had.

She was truly grateful for not just his concern, as well as his willingness to teach her because she knew the idea came from concern,

‘But still,’ She huffed to herself, wondering just when in the world she’d be at the disadvantage where she couldn’t use her enhanced abilities to save herself.

She was ready to decline when she noted him already starting to stretch, the stunned woman dumbly looking on as he continued to ready himself,

‘Well…’ She thought with a bit of presumptuousness, her mind wandering a little too much, ‘I suppose he’s right... It wouldn’t hurt to have him teach me,” She reasoned cheekily.

‘It’s not like it was my intention to ogle,’ she defended herself, justifying the observant (e/c) colored eyes she had peeped at him with.‘ It just happened,’ she reasoned, also trying to justify the little involuntary perk of her rear that caused his pelvis to meet hers.

Mindlessly her hips swayed back to brush over the notable hardness yet again, and at that point, she had become painfully aware of the fact that he too was enjoying their session, maybe just a little too much.

‘ He also made it difficult,’ she huffed annoyed, recalling the few moments he’d squeezed her towards him, hands kneading her flesh a little too indiscreetly.

‘So it’s not all my fault,’ She went on, trying her best to justify both her feelings and her actions.

A shuttered breath escaped through his barley parted lips while he felt her rear graze him yet again. His hold on her then loosened in its entirety, his hands unclasping from behind her neck to slide down to her shoulders instead,

“I’m sorry,” he sighed softly, swallowing hard afterward.

He had really wanted to help her, that being his true intention.

His plan hadn’t been to just grope her all night and get off from the delicious closeness, but it ended up happening nonetheless, and he felt bad for it.

With a voice filled with the same delight-filled shame that mirrored his, (f/n) apologized as well, not knowing what else to respond with, other than a pathetic,

“Me too,”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” He swore, sounding strained. “Honest,” He added softly, still standing behind her, not stepping back or seeming intent on doing so.

“Me neither,” She responded while wearily chuckling.

She found it somewhat amusing because she’d always been so strongly attracted to him. She’d been hooked since day 1, and she’d constantly fantasize and conjure up different scenarios in her head, all of which were simply stupid little creations of her silly little mind.

‘I just never figured I'd actually end up here,’ She mused, finding it laughable that in those very wild fantasies, she’d been much more suave, and a thousand times more sensual.

‘But of course,’ She huffed with a tickle of entertainment, ‘Instead, I blubber and blush, and what's much worse I can barely say a word,'

Bucky then cleared his throat, her name falling past his lips as he released a steadied breath,

“ (f/n)…Can I be honest with you?” He started, his hands retreating, trailing down her chest, slowly descending while leaving a burning trail.

Humming in acknowledgement , she waited for his upcoming truth,

“I wanna fuck you so bad right now,” he admitted, feeling his stomach flopping with how insanely daring he’d been to downright admit it.

It was then that another sound fell past her lips, her (e/c) colored eyes shutting tight at the admittance, not having expected it and having it strike her like a heavy low blow,

“Really?” she breathed, goosebumps riddled over her flesh, her entire body racked with a fierce shutter.

‘He can’t really be serious,’ She thought with disbelief, the doubtful part of her mind that second-guessed herself in there, continuing to exist.

Nodding he brought his chin down to the little piece of skin between her neck and shoulder,

“So badly,” He added with a thickened voice, his two hands both stopping and landing at her sides, taking a firm hold of her hips.

For just a single millisecond she had wondered if perhaps it was all some sort of prank, a horrible one he’d come up with because she had far too much trouble believing that he’d want her as much as he claimed. However, her doubt quickly faded away as he pulled her back more and pressed her tightly against the evident proof that validated his confession.

'I guess there's no arguing with THAT,' She heaved, practically pooling by that point.

“Bucky...Could you then?” She asked, melting furthermore, her hands both finding their way behind her back to touch him, her palms quickly meeting his clothed body.

She could feel the defined muscles of his abdomen through his thin cotton shirt before the tingling hands traveled down further, landing on his clothed, hardened cock.

She could feel the hardened length fighting against the resistance of the sportswear, and it excited her greatly.

As her fingers curled around it, she anxiously bit her lip, her knees almost buckling.

A short hiss drew from him as she gripped the hardness, and instinctively he said her name, having already been put through too long of teasing torture to have enough resistance to draw back a single groan.

‘I should have had him teach me a long time ago,’ She thought to herself with a little pleased sigh as he began to kiss her heated (s/c) toned skin.

'And I defiantly wouldn't mind practicing with him some more,' she went on, leaning back onto him as much as she could, enjoying the rest of their practice session.

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my-soul-sings · 3 years

Text

just my luck: chapter 7

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Taehee x Reader

***

Chapter 7 (full)

***

Your life had officially gone up in flames. Literally.

You knew your bad luck had been getting worse and worse, but you hadn’t expected it to come down to this. Three fire trucks parked were outside your apartment building, there were firefighters scattered all around the place and a bunch of people who had been rescued but otherwise looked uninjured for the most part. The fire had already been put out, but the damage was severe. The walls of the building had been charred black, the smell of smoke and burning lingered in the stuffy air and from what you could tell, the fire had scorched and destroyed almost everything.

At a distance you spotted your landlady speaking to a police officer in tears. Your heart broke at the sight. She was a sweet old lady who didn’t deserve any of this. Would she even have a place to stay after this?

‘It’s because of you,’ a voice within you whispered, ‘you bring bad luck wherever you go.’

You shook your head, pushing that thought out of your mind. Spiralling wouldn’t do any good right now; it was the last thing you needed. In any case, you weren’t in a position to worry about other people. You were basically homeless now, and the bigger question you had to think about was: what next?

A hand rested on your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know that it was Taehee. You knew he probably wanted to ask if you were okay, but he remained quiet, which you were grateful for. He had driven you here when you insisted on leaving to come here. Maybe it was because you didn't believe him—it wasn’t common for someone to find their home scorched to the ground, even for you. Or maybe it was because you didn’t want to believe it. The whole ride here you desperately prayed to whatever god existed out there, hoping that it wasn’t true, that maybe Taehee had gotten it wrong somehow and that you still had a home to return to at the end of this.

Of course, you had been dead wrong. And now you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car, at a complete, utter loss. There was nothing you could do now. You hadn’t even lasted a week out here on your own, so maybe this was the universe just telling you to suck it up, get your mother to forgive you one way or another, and just go along with whatever she wanted now.

You had to survive, and there weren’t any options left.

The hand from your shoulder slipped away, the missing warmth now making you feel emptier than before. But that was resolved quickly when you found yourself being pulled into his arms, with your forehead resting on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you asked tiredly, not having the strength to push him away anymore. You didn’t have the energy for anything at the moment. You just wanted to sleep and pretend this was all just a horrible, horrible nightmare. And when you woke up, maybe everything would be alright again.

“Lending you a shoulder to cry on.” You could feel the soft vibrations of his deep, quiet voice as he spoke. He placed a hand on your head, running his fingers through your hair, patting you like you were a child in need of comfort.

“I never said I was going to cry,” you murmured, just as moisture began to burn in the back of your eyes.

“You didn’t have to,” he told you, squeezing you tighter and pressing you closer to him. The smell of his cologne was nice. “So take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me.” Your voice was coming out in a shaky whisper now; it was hard to keep it even when your shoulders were starting to shake as an involuntary sob escaped you.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going to give me the wrong idea.”

“About?”

“I’ll… start to think... that you care about me.”

He chuckled, and you could feel his warm breaths on your head. “That’s actually what I’ve been hoping for.”

But you didn’t want that—having someone care for you, provide for you. Because you would end up depending on them, caring for them in return. And then eventually, you would lose them.

In the end, no one wanted to stay with the bad luck charm. Not even the woman who gave birth to you.

“I’ll be here."

Taehee’s words echoed in your mind, and you were acutely aware of his arms that were tightly wrapped around your frame and his stillness as he held you and listened to you cry into his shirt. He wouldn’t be any different. You were fairly certain of it. Maybe he knew you like he claimed he did, but as with everyone else, he would leave somewhere down the road.

Maybe for now—just for a few minutes—you could stay like this. It didn’t matter if he left eventually; you were already used to being alone.

But just for the moment, you needed this: someone to hold you, to be by your side and hold you together, before you shattered completely.

***

You ended up crying for an hour. Taehee had kept true to his word, content to let you cry for as long as you needed to. The whole time he didn’t say a word, only hugging you tightly and running his hand through your hair. By the end of it, your eyes were puffy and swollen, half of the tissue box he had in his car had been emptied, and his shirt had a huge puddle stain where you had cried.

Taehee didn’t complain, but you could tell his arms and back were sore from that awkward hugging position in the car. Although you apologised, he insisted that he was fine and that he was happy he could be here for you. He offered to drive you back to his place for the time being, and you couldn’t protest since there really wasn’t anywhere else you could go.

His kindness made you feel bad for that confrontation with him in the morning. He obviously had hidden intentions for why he was doing all this, but maybe those intentions weren’t bad.

Although, there was one thing that still bothered you somewhat…

“Earlier… Hansol, was it? He had my bags with him, saying you told him to get them for you. Why did you do that? Did you know something was going to happen?”

He was quiet. Oddly so. You assumed he was just focusing on driving, but when he remained silent even when the car rolled to a stop at a red light, you decided to ask him again. Something was definitely up.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” he admitted after a beat of silence, a rueful smile hanging from his lips. “You might not believe me.”

“Try me.” Crazier things had happened. Besides, there was no reason for him to lie to you at this point.

He nodded. The car began to move as the light turned green.

“Have you heard of people who can see the future?”

With a confused frown, you replied, “You mean in movies? Yeah. Sure.”

“I mean in real life. People with… what they call a sixth sense.”

You stared at him, wondering if it was a trick question of some sort. “Where is this conversation going?” you asked. “Aren’t you a doctor? I didn’t think you’d believe in this stuff.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “that’s because I have that ability.”

“...You can see the future?”

“Glimpses of it,” he clarified. “But getting a vision doesn’t mean I know when exactly it’s going to happen. It could happen in the next couple of minutes or in a few days; it varies. And I can only cover one person at a time.”

At this point you had heard that tone of voice enough to know that he wasn’t pulling your leg; he was being completely serious. And you’re telling me all this, because..?”

“You asked me why I had Hansol help me move your things out of your apartment.”

Oh, right. That. Wait, but that would mean—

“You saw it coming? The fire?”

He nodded, and you could already see the silent apology on his trembling lips. “When I held you in my arms that day, I saw an image of you... surrounded by flames. I panicked, so I brought you home and had Hansol help me pack your things later that night. I didn’t think the fire would happen so soon after we left. I thought I could warn the landlady or someone about it in the morning when they were awake. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” you muttered, reeling from this information. You were beginning to understand why he never shared much about himself; you would have written him off as insane on the spot. The only reason you could believe him now was because of everything that had happened; his was the only logical explanation possible.

“Thanks for getting me out of there. And my things. Otherwise, I really would have lost everything,” you said.

Taehee smiled, casting a quick side-glance at you. “I’m just glad that you’re safe.” His voice was filled with relief. “Thanks for believing me.”

You shrugged. “It’s not like there’s another possible explanation for this.”

“Hmm… maybe I set fire to the apartment building and kidnapped you?”

A short laugh escaped you. “I think that’s the first joke I’ve heard you make, Dr. Kim.”

He grinned, casting a sideways glance at you. “You’re finally smiling.”

The curve of your lips faltered, and you turned aside to look out the window. It became quiet, save for the soft music from the radio that was playing. Strangely enough, it didn’t feel awkward just sitting here in silence, watching the clouds and cars whizz by. Your eyes lingered on the vast blue sky above. For a brief moment, its vastness made your problems feel small—and the suffocating tightness in your chest loosened little by little.

“The weather’s nice today,” you murmured. There was nary a trace of grey clouds in the distance. The sun wasn’t glaringly bright, and the trees passing you by were swaying in the wind.

“Looks like it’ll be a good day today,” Taehee agreed.

It was anything but a good day. This had to be one of the worst days in your life.

And yet, somehow, it didn’t feel so bad. Not as bad as it did an hour ago, at least. Maybe it was because you had become numb, having run out of tears to cry. Maybe it was the sky that made you and your problems feel so much smaller in comparison.

Or maybe it was simply that you didn’t feel like you had to manage it all on your own anymore, since you weren’t alone this time.

You turned your head to the side, eyeing his side profile, tracing the curves of his wavy hair, his nose, his jawline… The man next to you seemed determined to butt into your life and to help you as best as he could, for reasons he didn’t want to reveal just yet. Perhaps those reasons were as unbelievable as his claim that he could see the future.

But… since he had already revealed that to you, surely he could tell you more now?

“You said you can only cover one person at a time with your… your ability,” you began. “Why me? Why are you helping me?”

His lips turned up into a vague smile. It was difficult to decipher the emotion that briefly crossed his face. “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I believe you can see the future. What can be crazier than that?”

He stole a hesitant glance at you, and the apartment building where he lived in slowly came into view around the corner.

“It was love at first sight.”

Oh.

Stunned, you couldn’t speak a word. All you could do was stare at him incredulously.

Well, Taehee was right about one thing.

“You’re crazy,” you said, completely serious.

He only laughed, but didn’t retract his words.

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge taehee #kim taehee #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge fanfic #just my luck #my writing #posting this chapter in full just because im happy with the way the dialogue at the end turned out hehe #love shitting on romance tropes heh

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livcosmos · 4 years

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September/October stories and struggels

Happy spooky season everyone!!! It’s been a while since we last talked, school has be crazy and I feel like I am going more insane as the days pass but I finally found a little free time to chatch up with you. Considering that I had so little time those past weeks, I watched quite a few movies, most of them movies I wanted to watch since forever and I’m really happy I finaly got to see them plus I’m even more exited to discuss them!

So starting with the movie I watched back at the beginning of september. I hate it when I don’t get to write those discussions right after I finish that certain movie or book because I don’t remember all the details and I hate not remebering all the details but there is nothing we can do about it now, I took notes tho while watching so we have at least some of the details.

Starting of with ‘Chemical Hearts’, I was so super excited to watch this one because I absolutely love Lili Reinhart and I was so so so excited to see her in this movie, besides that, a few years ago I started reading the book this movie is based on and I was even more excited because of that. Lili was absoultely stunning in this movie I love her and I loved her as Grace! I remember feeling so inspired after watching this movie, I wanted to take out my notebook and write, I think the best movies and the best books are those who inspire you those who leave you with louds of ideas, the ones that make you want to do something as inspring, I love that feeling and this movie definitely gave me this feeling, I absolutely loved it. It also had sooo many beautiful phrases full of thruth they bescaly exposed what it’s like to be a teenager and I loved that! I wanted to write down all those wise phrases so so beautiful!! As I said before I loved Grace so much and it was so painfull to see her go trough all those phases but it was also so relatable and the fact that in the end she and Henry didn’t got back together made the whole thing even better because that’s just life you think youre going to be together forever but that’s not how it realy goes and high school it’s just a little portion of youre life and then your paths divide...it’s sad but its very true! I also love (ok I am deffently using the word love way to offten I’m really sorry..) how she said that one time that she is broken and he should’t try to fix her like one of his pots (by the way I loved that thing with breaking the pots and than rebuilding them and the parallel to Grace....ahhhh just perfect😍😍) because he couldn’t fix her, that sentace stayed with me since than, I found it sooo sooo beautiful!!! I highly recomend this movie!

I also finnaly, after such a long time, got to watch ‘Little Women’, I was ultra exited for this movie, I have the book laying around in my bookshelf for a year now and I wanted to read it but as I said earlier the time isn’t with me. And I normaly don’t do this but I diced to watch the movie before reading the book because I was way to exited for, it and guess what I more that enjoyed it, I loved it!!!!!! I can’t wait to read the book even tho of corse I got spoiled for it because I watched the movie first but the book is always better so I’m sure I will still love it!

This movie was as inspiring as Chemical Hearths, Jo inspired me so so much and jet again after whatching this I wanted to grab my notebook and write my own stroy (or better say continue it) I loved Jo, she was my favorite out of all the March sisters even tho I didn’t always agree with all her actions like how she refused to marry Laurie even tho I do get her point on marriage and I also very much agree with her but still I loved Laurie and it made me so so sad to see him suffer! Also I think I’m not the only one who after watching this movie got all obsessed with Timothée Chalamet!!!

But I guess Jo and Laurie are eally better friends than anything more because I really really liked their friendship! I also really liked Amy with her painting and all but oh boy I got so mad at her for stealing Laurie away ahhaah... but than I kind of made my peace with it I have learned to accept it because it must have been hard for her to live in Jo’s shadow and she had a crush on Laurie all her life. Ooooo but when she burned Jo’s papers oh my God I was fuming I was beyond mad I don’t even want to imaging what it must have been like for Jo! Another thing I absolutley loved about this story is that all the sister where so artsy, I love art so much and I found it so beautiful how each sister had her own art, Jo with the writing, Amy with the painting, Beth with the music, Meg with fashion, that was sooo sooo nice and their palys!!!! Ah God my hearth when they were making up all of those theater plays, absolutley lovely! As I mentioned Beth, I’m sure there is more about her in the book because even tho she is important for the story I feelt like there wasn’t much of her and I’m not sure I like her but only because we only saw so little of her. As for Meg I really really wanted to like her more because she likes fashion and everything but I don’t know... her wanting to marry so early and become a house wife... that ruined her a little for me because I have to admit I am with Jo on that one I feel like she could have done so much more in her life than what she got, I am reaching high as Jo, I don’t want such a “boring” life like Meg. Other that that I also really loved the time period they live in and I love how their mother thought them to be nice and so lovely, I love how they have given their Christmas food to that poor family and how they have been taking care of the so so beautiful! Ah but that guy, Friedrich something... I didn’t liked him at all and I don’t like it that Jo chose him in the end but what can one do... I’m really proud of Jo tho, that she didn’t give up and that she made it as writer and I am really looking forward to read the book!

Next we have ‘The Sun is also a Star’ movie, as I mentioned in one of my previous posts ‘The Sun is also a Star’ is one of my favourite books of all time ( by the way I found the notes I took while reading the book and I to this day regret not writing a discussion about it...) so I was very exited to see what they did with the movie and I had very high expectations! I must say I liked it of course it wasn’t as good as the book but it was all right I guess. There were tho some things that bothered me, I am aware that the movie can’t be exactly as the book but still I think those changes they made are kind of crucial and that’s why they bothered me so much. Starting with the fact that they made out of that one day where everything takes place into one day and a half like nooooo just no!!!! They ruined the magic of that one beautiful perfect day, the book starts in the morning and it ends at night with her leaving and not like in the movie the folowing day!!!! The other thing is that they left out that security guard lady, in the book for me that lady had such an important role and I can’t agree with them leaving her out in the movie! And this point also leads us to the ending, it bothered me that they didn’t found each other again in the airpale (with the help of the security guard lady) I cryed so much when I read that part and I don’t agree with how they made them meet again in that coffee shop it’s just not accurate! I know it’s impossible to do everything perfect and I konw I am beeeing nit-picking but still. And not to forget how they changed the thing with the lawyer guy, or better say how they left out that it was his fault that Natasha had to leave, because of his affair with his secretary, I still blame him and I don’t agree with him beeing so innocent in the movie! I know I have criticsed this movie a lot but I did enjoyed whatching it and did like it!

I also watched those new dance movies on Netflix the one with Sofia Carson, ‘Feel the Beat’ I believe it’s called and the other one with Sabrina Carpenter and Liza Koshy, ‘Work it’. I had such a great time watching them they gave me such happy feelings! I have to say tho that I liked ‘Feel the Beat’ more, in my eyes it was better than ‘Work it’ but they were both really good and funny! They made me want to dance again, I feelt really sad that I gave up dancing because I really love dancing and I belive that in an other life I was supposed to be a dancer but you can’t change the past...

Oh my how is it possible that I almost forgot to mention this amazing movie... I also watched Enola Holmes and my God did I have a great time watching it! It had everything I ever wanted, it was funny, it had mystery in it ( I always love myself a good mystery), it took place in London (London is my favourite city ever), there was British accet all over the place, it had action and not to forget Sam Claflin also had a role in it, (I love Sam Calflin)! I also love Millie Bobby Brown and she was once again amazing! It was really really good I highly highly recomend watching it!!! (Not to repeat myself but this was also a very inspiring movie 😂😂)

And because I am already at it and I was more than excited when it came out I want to mention how much I love Shawn Mendes new song ‘Wonder’, that song is such a masterpeace I can’t listen to it enough I am basicly crying every time I hear it, because of how much I love it and how much it toches my hearth! The lyrics ahhhhhh......😍😍😍so so so beautiful I just can’t and don’t get me started on the music video! And when I watched the trailer to his documetary the other day I was screaming and crying at the same time with excitement I can’t wait to watch it!!! And I can’t wait to listen to the new album, December can’t come soon enogh! If all the songs on that album are as good as ‘Wonder’ I think I’m going to pass out!!

Can we also talk about how Ariana Grande is releasing a new album this month??!! Like how unespected and more than welcomed is that! The single is coming out tonight and I can’t wait for it!

Even tho I’m still on my One Direction phase from the summer and I don’t think it will ever go away, I still welcome this new music with all my hearth! ( Yes I am kind of 10 years to late with my obsession with One Direction but I don’t care I love them and they have totaly marekd my summer this year and they got me trough the hard days.) They are my happy place and my go to running songs! I also will forever love and treasure Harry Styles esspecially young Harry Styles like omg my heart😍😍!

And because I started talking about it I have to mention it now because I forgot to do it in my ‘Chain of Gold booktalk’ the song ‘Slow Hands’ by our boy Nail I totally conect it with Matthew Fairchild, I can’t explain why but I do! I tend to do this thing where I conect a certain song with a book character, the one song I am obsessed with at that time I am reading a certain book tends to become the song of one of the characters and every time I listen to that song I think about that character. Like ‘Boyfriend’ by Ariana Grande is in my head Julian Blackthorn’s song and ‘Havana” by Camila Cabello Isabell Lightwood’s. Does that make sens? Probably not and I also got totaly of topic I’m really sorry!

I think I am going to end it here because this post is gotten way to long again. If you made it here thank you so much for readig and I hope to see you in my next never ending post😂😂😂! Have a great day!

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moodyvalentinestories · 4 years

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Direction – Twelve | Hunt x HWU MC (Danielle)

Summary: Thomas and Danielle talk... kind of, anyway. We finally find out what's in that bloody box, too.

Words: 2300+

Notes: Uh-huh. Yeah. Remember when I said Hollywood U levels of insanity? Mhm.

❥ Previous Chapter: Eleven ❥ Moodyvalentine’s Masterlist

Thomas woke to a pounding headache and the smell of bacon. The former made sense – he remembered drinking quite a bit before he presumably passed out – but the latter only confused him. He wondered if he’d attempted to make himself dinner, which would have been a terrible idea considering the state he must have been in, and left the stove on. It didn’t smell burnt, though.

With a sigh, Thomas got out of his bed, noting that he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his clothes – and decided to make his way to the kitchen to see what was going on. He wasn’t surprised to see it was dark out when he passed the window in the hall – he’d begun his binge some time shortly after noon if he recalled correctly – but what he was surprised by was the person standing at the stove, frying several strips of bacon and two eggs.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice sounding far too loud against his headache.

Danielle turned around, arms folded in front of her chest. “You don’t remember, do you?”

He shook his head and regretted it right away when a stab of pain shot through him.

“I’m not surprised,” she said, turning back to check on the food. “You’d had over half a bottle of Scotch before I found you.” She thought on that for a moment. “At least. It’s all I found evidence of, anyway.”

Thomas cringed. He knew it must have been more as he was quite sure he’d only moved on to the fresh bottle when the other one had been emptied. He didn’t even want to think about what state she had found him in, and so he decided he wouldn’t. If there was something he’d said or done that was of importance, she would likely make sure to tell him. “I see.” He sat down at the island counter, where a glass of water and two aspirins sat. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“Take them,” she said, still not giving him an answer. “How do you like your eggs? And how crispy should your bacon be?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, though he knew she couldn’t see, and asked, “You’re making food for me?” He was fairly sure he knew why she was here – he’d turned everything he’d had on her over to the tabloids after all – and he found it quite suspicious that she would be kind enough to feed him and help relieve his hangover. “You wouldn’t be trying to poison me, would you?”

She turned with an exasperated sigh. “No, Hunt, I’m not trying to poison you. I’m going to make sure you’re of sound mind when I rip you a new one.”

“Ah,” he said, as if it was a perfectly normal thing for her to tell him. He supposed it wasn’t an entirely surprising reaction after what he’d done yesterday – or perhaps earlier today, he wasn’t quite sure what time it was – and it wasn’t like he was unwilling to speak to her about it. He did have a few choice words of his own for her, and he would make sure she would receive them, as well. But, first, he would eat. “Over easy and just don’t let the bacon turn into a brick.”

She nodded and went back to focusing on the frying pan. He remained silent, then, and decided to take one aspirin. He hoped it would help, and he was inclined to believe it would as his headache had already begun to fade before he’d taken it.

Not much later, Danielle put a plate with food down in front of him, and he didn’t have to be asked twice to dig in. He was hungry, after all, and he was relatively sure that he hadn’t eaten before he’d decided to drink himself into oblivion. Which had made it that much easier to achieve just that, and that much worse when he woke up just now. In any case, he thanked his lucky stars that Danielle had decided it would be appropriate to give him food in this situation, no matter her intentions.

She leaned back against the counter next to the stove, nibbling on a strip of bacon that was almost completely black as she watched him eat. He didn’t comment on how uncomfortable it made him to have her watch him so closely, and he certainly didn’t comment on the fact that his mind had – however briefly – entertained the idea of the two of them eating in his kitchen under different circumstances.

When he was done eating, Thomas wasn’t quite sure what to say. He felt he should have thanked her for the food – and, presumably, taking care of him before he passed out – but, somehow, he doubted she would appreciate it.

“You’re done?” she said, and though it was posed as a question, he knew she wasn’t asking.

He answered nonetheless. “I’m done.”

“Good,” she said with a nod, and she suddenly looked terribly sad. Thomas tried not to feel bad about it – she deserved to be sad, for heaven’s sake – but it proved harder than he thought. “Good. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

He did as she instructed, remaining just where he’d sat since he came into the kitchen, and waited for her to return. When she did, he immediately saw the cardboard box in her hands, and his heart nearly stopped. “Why do you have that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, her expression even sadder than it had been when she’d left to retrieve the box. She put it down on the counter, moving his plate to the side to make room. “Why did you do it, Thomas? Why did you want to get rid of me?”

He noted the way she’d used his given name again – not affectionately, this time, but the way she sometimes had when she’d intended to have a serious conversation with him. He’d expected a fight – screaming and yelling and insults – but it didn’t seem that that was what she’d come for. It unsettled him to no small degree.

“Because you were going to do the same to me,” he said weakly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head to one side. After taking a moment to think, she spoke. “I wasn’t. I still won’t,” she told him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Another lie, surely. “What changed after we talked? I thought we were on the same page.”

“I saw you. With Montmartre,” he said, and by the way her expression didn’t change, he knew that this was not news to her. So why did she ask then? If she was aware that he knew, why wouldn’t it be obvious to her?

She let out a sigh. “So, what? You’re telling me it didn’t occur to you that there’s more than one reason I might have gone with him? Hell, he could have made me go with him.”

“You were flirting with him, I heard. You two are… you are—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” she exclaimed, finally displaying the anger he’d expected. “Are you trying to say you thought sending me to prison was a reasonable action because you were jealous?”

Thomas thought he ought to have been outraged at the assumption that it had been jealousy that drove him to hand the material over, but there was a much more interesting point in what she’d said that he needed to address first. “Sending you to prison? You’re being overly dramatic. If – and that’s a big if, mind you – you’d have been prosecuted at all, it would have been for negligence at worst. And you were a student at the time, you would—"

“You never even bothered to look through what’s in here, did you?” she interrupted, nudging the box closer towards him. “Go on, take a look.”

“Well, I saw the settlement agreement between the university and him, and…” He blanched. It was true, he had no idea what was in that box.

Danielle nodded knowingly. “It’s my signature on that contract.” Thomas felt like the rug was being pulled out from under him. “It’s my signature on all of it.”

It was obvious, from the look on his face, that this was new information to him, and she almost felt some of her ire lift, but he’d still done what he’d done, whether getting her behind bars had been his intention or not. Danielle could see his hand tremble as he reached for the box and lifted the lid off.

The first thing he took out was the settlement agreement with the victim, drawn up by the university’s lawyers. But the university had been kept out of it entirely, and it was only Danielle’s and the victim’s signature on it. Ethan had advised her back then not to let the university handle it, and if she’d listened to him, Thomas would have been right. She’d have got off lightly – because she knew that, technically, it hadn’t been her fault – and as she’d been little more than a student back then, it wouldn’t have impacted her career much, either.

But she hadn’t listened to Ethan, and she’d let the university pay him off – all in her name because, officially, the university took no responsibility for anything that happened on set of their students’ film productions – and she knew it made her look guiltier than she was.

Hunt’s quiet gasp when he reached the last page and saw that it was, indeed, her signature on the contract made her look up. He simply looked back at her, stunned, before he reached into the box again to take out another sheaf of papers.

The one on top she recognised as well – she’d signed off on everything being safe just the morning of the accident. She hadn’t checked it herself – hadn’t had the time because she’d stayed up all night working on an essay for Professor Singh – but she’d been stupid enough to trust that the freshman she’d tasked with checking everything would do so diligently. If only she’d taken the extra time to make sure… they would have known to wait until that beam had been properly secured, and nobody would have been hurt.

It was clear from the shock on Hunt’s face that this was another detail he hadn’t known of. “I thought it happened because you didn’t check everything that day.”

“It did,” she told him, trying not to be offended by the fact that he’d insinuated she might have known and simply not cared. “I signed off on it, anyway.”

She could tell he had a reproach on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet, and she was glad for it. She didn’t need anyone to tell her how careless she’d been – she felt guilty enough as it was. Instead, he put the piece of paper to the side and looked at the next one. It wasn’t any better. In fact, this one, she thought, was perhaps the worst of all. It had been her list of who would be doing what that day, and she’d assigned him to operate the camera just beneath that steel beam.

“It looks like premeditation,” he said, looking back up at her. “Danielle, if you hadn’t caught this before… if I’d… you could have been convicted with attempted murder.”

“There’s more in there.”

Hunt shook his head. “I don’t want to see it. I know it wasn’t that.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” she said, looking down at her hands. “He…” She took a deep breath. “Carson could have died, and it would have been my fault.”

Hunt shook his head again, more vehemently this time. She imagined it couldn’t have been feeling good, considering his massive hangover. “But nobody died. And you weren’t anywhere near experienced enough to know. Even if you’d checked everything, you could have missed it.”

“It was my responsibility,” she insisted. She wasn’t quite sure how the conversation had taken such a turn – she hadn’t come to talk about her guilt or any of this, really, but just to confront him and find out just why he’d done what he’d done.

She didn’t notice she’d started crying until she felt a hand on her arm, squeezing ever so slightly. She recognised the gesture as something she’d done to calm him many times before, and her tears came even harder then.

“Danielle, I’ve disagreed with this policy since I’ve started teaching at the university,” he told her. “I’ve wanted projects supervised by experts for a long time. Only putting students who don’t know their craft yet to work – and in fields they may have even less experience, at that! – has never sat right with me.”

She didn’t argue with that – he had a point, after all, though it didn’t change a thing about her feelings towards it all – but decided to go back to their original conversation. The reason she’d come here in the first place. “You were going to have me put behind bars for it, anyway.”

This statement seemed to wipe any trace of sympathy he’d had for her away and he withdrew his hand from her arm, letting it fall to his side. “I didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Danielle said with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t. If anything, it just makes it worse – that you didn’t even know what was in there; that your only goal was to hurt me. And for what? Because you thought I had a thing with Viktor?”

“Because I know you’re working with him!” Hunt accused, slapping one hand down on the stone counter. She could tell from the expression on his face that it had hurt him, and she couldn’t find it in her to care. He really thought she could have done that, after everything? That, more than anything he’d said to her since she’d known him, hurt somewhere deep in her chest.

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. Then, very quietly, she said, “But I’m not. I was just… I was just going to fix things. I was going to fix everything.”

Tags: @lilyoffandoms @trappedinfandoms @oneemofungirl @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @alj4890 @alleksa16 @flyawayboo @silversparrow02

#hwu hunt #thomas hunt #professor hunt #danielle

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mojofun · 4 years

Text

Good Friends Will Be Stupid Together (Chris Evans x OC)

Hello people; this is an entry for another writing chllenge I participated in. The prompt was “Good friends don’t let you do stupid things together”; let’s see how the king of dorks and OC handle the tension. I wanted to tag @lebakedbeaute and, also, give a shoutout to @kitkatd7 for the many funny and wonderful prompts in this challenge. I hope you enjoy this story 😊

Warnings: gets a little cheeky in the end, but nothing graphic

______________________________________________________________

Emerson groaned, bringing a hand to her head when it throbbed painfully. Blurred memories all came back in full force, making her feel dizzy; she fell back on the pillow with a huff.

All of a sudden the lights came on; she covered her eyes with her hands, hissing in pain

<<Sorry babe, but I couldn’t see anything>>

That voice.

Once a sign she was dreaming, now straight from her nightmares. As soon as the blaring lights grew dimmer, she removed her protection and blinked to focus on the indistinct figure that stood by the door. It took her a while, but she could eventually distinguish the unkempt blond hair and his omnipresent smile that made her insides flip.

Damn, she thought. Of course, I had to make a fool of myself in front of him

She slapped herself mentally a thousand times

<<How are you feeling, Em?>> His thick accent made the butterflies in her stomach stir to life, though in her conditions it was remarkably similar to the need of throwing up that she was adamantly suppressing

I’m not about to make this situation even worse

<<Like I ran into a train head-on>>

He chuckled lightly, handing her a glass of water and something fizzy

<<What’s that?>>

<<Drink it, it will make you feel better>>

<<But->>

<<Just drink it>>

<<Oh, right, I forgot I was talking with the king of hangovers>>

The man cackled again

<<Snarky even after a whole night spent drinking; you’re something else, babe>>

<<Stop calling me that>> She muttered, forcing a sip of the concoction down her throat; it made her stomach even more upset, but she held on to the last sliver of her dignity

<<No can do, babe>> He took the glass from her and set it on the bedside table. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and walked to the door <<Sleep Em, you need it. Goodni->>

<<Good morning, rather>>

<<Whatever, talk to you later>>

<<Sure. Thanks, Chris>>

Once left to her own devices, Emerson felt her head buzz with an unhealthy amount of thinking for someone so hungover as her.

It was nothing new, though- the thinking part.

The drinking had been for a while her last resort into the most lethal curse known to humanity: unrequited feelings.

You drama queen

Shut up brain. Why are you so active now when you can’t function properly around him?

That snarky comeback was enough to shut up her subconscious, but she kept thinking hard.

Chris had been her best friend for years, and she always had a crush on him. Nothing unmanageable, but it was there.

The problems began a few months earlier when he asked her to accompany him to a family event- not as a date, her mind reminded her.

Emerson sighed, skimming through the memories with a wistful smile: he’d been so caring, so damn sweet that night, holding doors and even giving her his jacket when they left. It had been such a damn perfect evening that she’s almost leaned in to kiss him when they reached her apartment.

To this day, she thanked whatever guardian angel stopped her, though a part of her wanted to know what he tasted like, what it would feel like to be in his strong arms as their lips met

<<Fuck>> She groaned, sinking even deeper in the pillows- wait, pillows?

Yes, there was definitely more than one

Chris really thought of everything, damn him; as if I’m not in love enough already

Sleep came sooner than she hoped, and she was immensely grateful for that: it was the only time her mind let her enjoy some peace and quiet.

Outside the door Chris leaned against the wall, sighing deeply. The major crush he’d developed on his best friend was anything but good.

He cursed himself daily for being such a fool, but there was nothing he could do: Emerson was just too beautiful, too funny, too sweet, too… Too perfect.

He sighed again; he needed to learn how to live knowing he’d only ever be her best friend.

________________________________________________________________

<<Good morning, princess>>

Chris’s way-too-cheerful voice greeted her the next morning when she finally emerged from her bedroom

<<Hi>>

<<How are you?>>

<<Good, thanks; the headache passed>>

<<Awesome. Want some breakfast?>> <<N->> <<I made pancakes>>

The woman stilled, brushing her black hair out of her face, fixing her caramel eyes on him with a pout <<Damn you>>

<<You know you love me, princess>> He joked, pulling the chair out for her. When she was seated, he handed her a tall stack of pancakes with an insane amount of syrup, just the way she liked them

You don’t even know how true that is, Chris

<<Thank you>>

<<You’re welcome>>

The small smile he gave her was enough to make her blush.

He let her eat in peace, going as far as to bring her a glass of orange juice directly at the table. When she was done though, he became serious

<<Emerson?>>

She flinched

I know that tone: dad-Chris-mode is on

She fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt- not hers; she’d… Commandeered it from the blond a while earlier. He didn’t know, of course, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The knowledge that he’d changed her made her cheeks even redder, but she said nothing about it

<<Yes?>>

<<Can we talk?>>

<<Sure; you know you don’t need to ask me>>

<<Actually, this is about you>>

I knew it

<<Uh, ok. What’s up?>>

His gaze grew stern, his lips no longer curled in a smile

<<I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, Em. You’ve been acting… Weird, for a while now>>

Oh fuck

<<Weird? What do you mean? I’m always weird>>

Those words forced a smile on his lips; it was small, but it was something, and it brought a smile on her face too

<<Yes, but you’re a nice weird, wonderful even>>

Stop it, you dork

<<Recently though, it’s been more of a bad weird>>

<<Bad? In what way?>>

As if you don’t know, her brain reprimanded her. You’ve been humiliating yourself even more than you normally do, and that’s saying something

Shut up

Chris’s baby blue eyes stared at her gravely

<<Do you remember almost leaving the club with that guy yesterday night?>>

His tone was displeased, and she knew she deserved. Guilt ate at her, but back then it had been the only way she found to cope with everything

<<Yeah, I do>>

<<He could have hurt you, Emerson. You didn’t know him>>

<<I’m aware of that. By the way, thanks for saving me>>

Another small smile appeared on his gorgeous face

<<Good friends don’t let you do stupid things>>

She laughed

<<Really? I thought that’s all we do together>>

He joined her laughter, reclining back on the couch; seeing his arm inevitably reach out to touch whatever was next to him, just like he always did, made her grin fondly

Damn you, dork; how are you so adorable?

<<That may be true, but Em>> He became serious again <<I’m worried about you. Why would you do something like that? It’s so unlike you>>

<<I… I don’t want to talk about it>>

<<Em, please. You->>

<<I said I don’t want to!>> The young woman barked, looking away the moment she saw confusion and hurt on his face <<Please. I don’t want to>>

<<Babe, you’re making me worry>>

<<You don’t need to. It’s my fault, I’m the one who’s been stupid enough to->> She barely caught herself in time <<Never mind>>

<<Dammit, Emerson>> Chris pleaded, standing up from the couch and kneeling in front of her <<Talk to me; you know you can tell me anything>>

Seeing him like that cut her breath short; her brain galloped miles per minute, transporting the kneeling man into an entirely different universe in her imagination…

She cringed, gritting her teeth and stomping her foot

<<Em! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?>>

The female stopped moving, staring into his azure eyes that held so much more affection than she felt she deserved, and yet…, It was not the kind of affection she wanted

Ever the selfish fiend, her subconscious cried out.

Her restraint was dangerously close to snapping.

As soon as their eyes met again, she gave in ad cradled his face with her hands

<<Babe, what->> He couldn’t finish that sentence because she pressed her lips against his; while her eyes closed, his stayed wide open.

It only lasted for a moment, but she relished it. However, seeing him so taken aback when she opened her eyes again made realisation dawn on her, and she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her immediately

<<Fuck. Chris, I- Fuck. Excuse me>> She stood up so fast that he almost toppled over and she ran past him, headed toward the door.

At that moment, he realised what was going on. She liked him, and she thought he didn’t reciprocate: that’s why she’d been so strange as of late.

He had to stop her

<<Emerson, get back here>>

She ignored him

<<For crying out loud Emerson, come back now!>>

A hand slammed on the door before she could open it, while a muscled arm wrapped around her waist

<<Let me g->>

His lips on hers interrupted her speech; this time her eyes were blown wide, while the man closed his to better enjoy the sensations the kiss gave him. Finally, after a while, he pulled away; she blinked at him in puzzlement

<<What…>>

<<As I said before, good friends don’t let you do stupid things. Well, not alone>>

That reply made her laugh, and he held her tight while she shook her head in amusement. He guided her to the couch, wrapping his arms around her when she sat down

<<Em?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<Did you… Did you mean it?>>

<<The kiss? Yes, honey; it was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done->> Chris snorted, earning himself a swat on the chest as they laughed <<But I meant it completely. Luckily, good friends don’t let you do stupid things alone>>

The blonde snickered and pecked her lips

<<Is that all we are? Good friends?>>

<<I still want to be your best friend, Chris, but I wouldn’t be opposed to, let’s say, exploring other dimensions to or relationship as well>>

<<When you put it that way…>>

He leaned closer to her.

Finally, both of them closed their eyes to fully enjoy the kiss.

Putting themselves out there might actually be the stupidest thing they’d ever done, but they were grateful it happened; so grateful.

--------------- Extra -----------------

<<Chris?>> Emerson called

<<Yes, princess?>>

<<Can we, you know… Do more stupid things together?>>

The blond actor cackled: seeing her like that only made her more adorable in his eyes. He pecked his cheek while she ran her hands on his chest

<<More stupid things…

As in a greater number or, you know… Sillier than this?>>

She beamed at him, chortling softly at her dumb joke. Then, her expression changed. The salacious smirk on her plump lips cut his breath short. She grabbed him by the shirt and whispered, pulling him closer

<<I was thinking you, actually>>

The last thing the blond actor remembered was picking her up and hurrying down the corridor in a flurry of clothes.

The TV show they planned on watching would have to wait.

#kits250challenge #writing challenge #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x ofc #chris evans image #chris evans fanf #friends in love #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans fic

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miraculouscontent · 6 years

Note

Three words: Animaestro. Thoughts. PLEASE.

Not a fanimaestro of “Animaestro.”

[Positives, I Guess]

Just real quick, might as well get the very few positives in.

Firstly, Marinette in her bun. She’s cute and she tried so hard.

Secondly, Jagged. Just… Jagged in general. He is so supportive of Marinette and praises her like she’s his own kid. I enjoy seeing him just about any time he’s on screen because he’s dramatic and emotional about everything.

Thirdly, and this one I say through gritted teeth, but the Adrimi in this episode is nice. I’m going to complain about certain parts later, but I do like how Adrien cares for her, how Tomoe isn’t overly critical, and how we actually see Kagami flustered for once.

Fourthly, Chloe’s face when Kagami’s about to sit down on the cake. She looked like she was in heaven and I snorted really loudly.

Fifthly, Animaestro’s powers are… fine, though I feel like weird visuals don’t work as well on people after the insanity of “Chris Master.” This episode just can’t stand up to that.

Sixthly and finally, I know what it says about Gabriel as a person, but… I’m sorry, I just burst into laughter as he left his lair WHILE STILL HAWK MOTH and then de-transformed in his office before rushing out the door in a panic. Seeing Gabriel in a hurry was hilarious.

And… I think that’s it. Just little moments sprinkled throughout the episode; nothing substantial.

Now, onto what most people probably want to actually see!

[This Movie Doesn’t Move Me]

Let’s get the obvious out of the way. Now, I get the slip-up with the fact that this movie obviously couldn’t be made in the time that Ladybug and Chat Noir have been around. I’m all for the idea that the movie started as something else and then had Ladybug and Chat slapped onto it to get more attention.

Would’ve been nice to have that confirmed, but I digress. That’s not my issue here.

My problems lie in two things: one is the movie’s existence in accordance with the timeline, whereas the other lies in the trailer.

This movie existed all the way back in “Sapotis,” but Chloe directly references Queen Bee. This already makes things confusing because the cover on the movie in “Sapotis” is a screenshot of the trailer, so it’s not as if two movies exist that have the same style.

Moving onto the trailer itself, talks about how Ladybug is afraid of cats and how she’s powerless without Chat Noir.

Marinette says that’s not true… adding that she’s not afraid of cats. It’s not “That’s not true, and I’m not afraid of cats either!”, it’s, “That’s not true… I’m not afraid of cats!” which implies that the ‘powerless’ detail is something she doesn’t argue with. The same thing happens later as Ladybug and Chat face off against Animaestro, where Ladybug asks about the line concerning her in-movie fear of cats.

I also have an issue with the fact that Adrien plays Chat Noir if this is how they present the trailer. Obviously, Adrien didn’t know how the trailer was going to turn out, but if Ladybug being “afraid of cats” and “powerless without Chat Noir” (both untrue) are things that are large factors in the movie, Adrien would have every reason to transform into Chat Noir and “subtly” show up to say “hello” and ask for details on the movie so he can comment. It wouldn’t be an issue at all if Adrien made it clear at some point that he didn’t actually like the movie himself or had problems with some of the choices, but that’s not what happens.

It makes one wonder how Adrien really sees Ladybug and their partnership, especially when he doesn’t take Ladybug’s side and agrees with Animaestro immediately about slamming the trailer before the movie’s out, possibly implying that he likes the movie.

[Trip Her to Shreds]

It feels like just yesterday when I’d salted about Tom and Sabine in “Weredad,” but here we go again.

Alright, so… Marinette’s parents. It’s revealed in this episode that they’re strangely aware of her clumsiness and are nervous around her for basically the whole episode.

I get that to an extent, but I do not approve of how they handle it in the episode. I mean, just for starters, there’s the fact that Marinette isn’t clumsy on her own, or it’s at least very rarely clumsy on her own. It’s when she’s panicking or feeling very emotional that causes her to slip up. When she’s determined and paying attention, she does pretty well.

There’s no reason for them to be worried about her. The worst that’s happened is in “Origins” where it was shown how unlucky Marinette could be, but that’s not something that’s on Marinette; that’s the universe being against her, which she should never be judged for.

Even though Marinette implies that she’s going to the event for Adrien, Tom and Sabine have never seen her being clumsy around him; at best, she stammers. Later on, they worry when Marinette has him in her sights, but they were concerned even before that, so this isn’t completely about Adrien.

This is the big problem with Tom and Sabine being more hands-off than they appear on the outside. If Marinette being “clumsy” is such a big issue, then what have they done to fix it? If she’s been clumsy for so long, did it just not matter to them until she actually wanted to help with something? If they were ever worried about her being hurt by her own clumsiness, they would’ve tried handling this a long time ago, so this is only out of concern that Marinette will drop the macaroons.

And there were legitimate reasons for them to be concerned that weren’t related to Marinette herself! Rather than Marinette being clumsy, they could be concerned about the number of people. They’re sending their 14-year-old daughter out into a crowd they don’t know where a lot of people could bump into her due to simply not seeing her (she’s a fairly small girl, after all). It didn’t have to be that Marinette is “clumsy,” but rather that she’s a petite girl who could easily be knocked around and drop her macaroons thanks to people who aren’t paying attention.

This is also one of the few episodes where Marinette is clumsy on her own without the emotion behind it. She trips over nothing when she’s just trying to carry a(n admittedly large) tray of macaroons.

And, just like “Weredad,” her parents only go halfway to supporting her. Marinette is clearly affected by her parents looking doubtful of her abilities, but instead of putting full faith in her, they constantly act like Marinette is going to trip and accidentally throw a tray of macaroons in someone’s face.

Heck, they almost send her out with an empty tray. When Tom is teaching her how to hold a tray (a clear sign of him being overbearing and nervous since Marinette isn’t five years old; she knows how to hold a tray), Marinette points out that there aren’t any macaroons on the tray. Instead of being neutral or assuring her that they just wanted her to get an idea of how the tray feels in her hands, they act suspiciously nervous and evasive. That’s a blatant sign that they were hoping she hadn’t noticed, or they would’ve answered normally.

Also, for parents who seem so worried about their daughter, they sure set her up to fail. All Marinette did was point out that there weren’t any macaroons, so in response, they give her many. Marinette is given a nine-layer tower of macaroons, which could’ve made sense if Marinette had insisted on that many so she could prove herself, but that’s not what she did. Her parents just give her tons of macaroons, which Marinette is clearly unnerved by, but they don’t notice.

They even consider Marinette dropping 95% of the macaroons as “so far so good” after Marinette had talked to Jagged and returned to them for more macaroons. How little faith do they have in their daughter, really? It’s as if they were expecting her to drop each and every one of them, so anything less than that is treated as perfection.

And the narrative puts Tom and Sabine in the right. It has Marinette trip over herself, constantly needing to regain her balance, and purposefully gave her way too many macaroons. This is as close to Ladybug’s curse in “Reverser” that Marinette has ever been. The plot can’t have Tom and Sabine fawn over Marinette trying to “spread her wings” right after they were forcing a grin and assuring Marinette that they’d give her macaroons when she’s “ready” (what does that even mean?).

To take it a step further, “Rogercop” is actually a good parallel here. In that one, Tom had Marinette stand with a tray of croissants, seeming to fully and completely trust her in handing them out. Then, Marinette slips, sending the croissants everywhere.

Tom never helped her afterward, by the way, only interfering once Chloe accuses Marinette of being a thief. With my earlier point about how Marinette’s supposed clumsiness was only a problem when she had to do something for them, it seems like Tom and Sabine believe that physical pain is something that Marinette isn’t affected by.

Anyway, we can presume that “Rogercop” takes place before “Animaestro,” but that does not put Tom in a good light with how this would lead into it.

When Marinette was passing croissants around, Tom must’ve been watching her, since he’d already stepped away from the front of the class. With the way Marinette slipped backwards, it implies that something came out from underneath her. Presumably, Tom told Sabine about this incident and that’s what causes their nervousness in “Animaestro.”

But that’s the thing. Tom either presumed she slipped on nothing (which is a really pessimistic way to view his own daughter), or he believed that something was in her way in the middle of the stairs. If it’s the latter, it’s not Marinette’s fault. Marinette couldn’t be expected to look where she was going while carrying a massive tray of croissants; she could only walk safely and in the logical middle of her path to prevent any accidents.

So yes, their worry could very well come from somewhere, but that was a one-time thing and also not Marinette’s fault. Even if taking “Troublemaker” into consideration, that was when Marinette was on live TV and simultaneously having a case of bad luck. She had every reason to be nervous.

There’s just no support here. When Marinette insists that she’s ready while looking very confident, Tom and Sabine sigh in defeat, clearly reluctant to give her a tray of macaroons yet doing it anyway.

I’m starting to think any self-esteem issues that Marinette had pre-“Origins” wasn’t only because of Chloe.

[Who-ka Couffaine]

So… I’m not denying that there couldn’t be more episodes down the line that have Luka in them, but we’re a bit of a ways into the season and Luka has yet to show up. I’m pointing it out here because this would’ve been an opportunity for Luka and Marinette to interact. Marinette doesn’t have many people to talk to at the event and this would’ve been an amazing opportunity to get Tom, Sabine, and Chloe to meet and react to Luka for the first time.

Does Chloe hate Luka because he’s friends with Marinette? Do Tom and Sabine see the potential he has as Marinette’s love interest?

Luka plays an important role in the show because he’s the only one who’s been an actually good support system at making Marinette feel better. Everyone else has relatively poor records.

Is he absent due to Jagged Stone, because Luka is a fan of Jagged Stone and their meeting is in a later episode? It’s possible, but it would’ve been just as easy for Jagged to not be there since his role in the episode is to be part of the scheme (which wouldn’t be happening had Luka been there).

My point is, Kagami has shown up twice this season just so Marinette can panic and be miserable, but Luka isn’t there because the writers thought that the Marinette and Chloe team-up was more important.

Speaking of which…

[The Scheme Team]

Marinette and Chloe teaming up is not inherently a bad idea; I just think its execution is bad. When one thinks of team-ups between two rivals/enemies, they usually think about them declaring a truce to fight a common evil.

Kagami is not evil. If they were fighting against someone like Lila, that would be a different story, but they’re not.

This also means that the most prominent and influential females right now (because Alya has largely faded into the background) are ALL competing to get to Adrien.

Marinette, Chloe, Lila, and Kagami.

It’s not just lazy. It’s boring. It starts feeling less like these characters can have lives outside of Adrien and more like not even two of them can like each other while still liking Adrien.

And, to some degree (and being as generous/neutral as possible), I do understand the possible reasoning of both Marinette and Kagami in this episode.

Chloe is just Chloe, so she doesn’t need an explanation. “Stormy Weather 2” and “Catalyst” already confirmed that she’s still nasty regardless of if it’s post-“Malediktator” or not, so we’ll presume that it is since Adrien is wearing his outfit (minus Marinette’s hat; I feel like that’s a metaphor for something) from “Queen’s Battle.”

Kagami doesn’t know Marinette beyond the small things she’s seen and the fact that Adrien has talked about her. Kagami knows that Adrien is a pushover, so she’ll likely disregard what Adrien has said if what she’s seen disproves it. From “Frozer,” Kagami would see Marinette as someone who’s torn between Luka and Adrien. Since it’s implied that Kagami thinks that Adrien loves Marientte, perhaps she also thinks that Marinette’s hesitation is what’s keeping them from being together, hence her bluntness when talking to Marinette in the same episode. She might not like Marinette, but may see it as a challenge in romance.

In terms of her being “spiteful” towards Chloe and Marinette, I also understand it. Kagami saw both of them glaring at her and was likely trying to show that she won’t back down off of Adrien regardless of what they think. She’s giving them a message that, if they want Adrien, they’ll have to try harder.

In addition, Kagami glaring at Marinette in “Backwarder” and this episode makes sense from a standpoint of how Kagami may view “hesitation.” Marinette might be trying, but she still can’t say her feelings out loud. She keeps giving Adrien things instead of being upfront (a letter in “Backwarder” and a macaroon here), which Kagami could view as a waste of time.

As for Marinette… well, if this takes place after “Frozer,” then yes, it seems extremely odd for Marinette to suddenly seem to dislike Kagami, but from what the narrative has shown, I can understand her as well.

Marinette may have called Kagami the “Ice Queen,” but unless episodes are just that out-of-order, she must only know from word-of-mouth, as the Kagami in “Riposte” is pleasant toward Adrien. Thus, she was willing to let Kagami and Adrien have their moment of romance at the ice rink.

With Kagami’s directness in “Frozer,” however, Marinette may feel that Kagami is aggressive; perhaps too aggressive for Adrien. She wanted closure with her crush on Adrien, hence why she changed her mind, and “Backwarder” also intensified her panic over the matter. She seems to understand that Adrien and Kagami are not a couple yet, but that things will be too awkward if she doesn’t confess before they do.

Even if this takes place before “Frozer,” Marinette would still be left unsure about Kagami since they haven’t interacted and “Backwarder” could just make her paranoid since Kagami clearly has connections that she doesn’t.

And now we come to here, where Marinette makes a comment about Adrien “not knowing what [Kagami] is up to.”

This, I believe, is the fault of the narrative’s feelings toward Chloe and what has happened over the past season. Before Marinette actually starts glaring at Kagami, she’s concerned. It’s only after Chloe has told her story that Marinette changes her tune from concern to annoyance.

The story Chloe tells is very vague, but there are two things Marinette can infer from it.

The first is that Kagami, again, is very blunt and unlike Adrien. She doesn’t threaten Chloe exactly, but her words are strict and aggressive. This could give Marinette reason for concern about Adrien dating Kagami. She doesn’t know if Adrien knows how forward Kagami can be and Marinette has been scolded by the show at times for not being 100% nice, meaning that Kagami’s way of thinking goes against what Marinette has been taught.

The second is that Kagami may have taken Chloe’s seat. Now, Chloe is in no way trustworthy, but this is a very difficult situation from Marinette’s perspective. Adrien could’ve beckoned Kagami over or Kagami could’ve sat down herself, knowing how Chloe is, and we have no evidence that the seat was actually Kagami’s. Chloe could also just be embellishing the story to make herself look good.

The problem is that Marinette has not been treated well by the show in the episodes centering around Chloe’s “redemption.”

“Antibug” scolded her for not listening to Chloe, “Zombizou” told her to be nice to Chloe, and “Malediktator” scolded her for being happy that Chloe wasn’t around, even encouraging her to give Chloe a chance and excuse all bad future actions as “baby steps.”

I believe Marinette would trust Chloe’s word because things did not go well for her when she went against Chloe. She got scolded, people were akumatized, etc.

In addition, Kagami clearly snuggled up to Adrien with the ulterior motive of spiting both Marinette and Chloe. Regardless of how much Kagami enjoys the close contact, Adrien would think that Kagami is doing it out of affection and nothing else. Marinette could view that as something she’s against, much like how Lila has ulterior motives when showing affection towards Adrien.

In that respect, yes, I fully understand why Marinette could be turned against Kagami and lured by Chloe into doing something about it.

…That said, I do not approve of this subplot. Again, the execution is terrible and it takes a lot of thinking and justification to go from Marinette’s behavior in “Frozer” (regardless of chronological order, it aired first and would be remembered) to Marinette’s behavior here. It’s a big leap and just an awful idea when thinking about the natural progression that a series should aim for.

It didn’t have to be this way, because Chloe and Lila are already aggressive enough in their attempts. They’re already not against sabotage and this could’ve even been a Chloe and Lila team-up against Marinette and Kagami if their relationship had been defined in a previous episode.

The writers chose to only show Marinette and Kagami the more negative aspects of one another, which further strengthens this mentality that all four girls crushing on Adrien have to fight for him.

It’s much less of a hassle to call it “out of character” (which it is with all the hedging I had to do to make sense of it) and move on.

[Criticize Me, Captain!]

Episodes that directly address criticisms toward the show they’re in are rarely a good idea. They’re often salt-loaded episodes that try to silence criticism despite still having to be an actual story and not able to take the time out to go into detail. It’s already odd to see one of the people behind the show turned into an actual character, but putting it in an episode that’s self-aware of its audience’s complaints makes things far too obvious.

The actual criticisms being addressed are thankfully very few, but this episode feels specifically made just to do this, and everything else is revolving around that.

Marinette’s Sunday macaroons and Chloe’s distaste of Kagami were only introduced in this episode to mess with the soon-to-be-akumatized person. This isn’t even the first time the show has done this in this season, because Marinette made multiple gifts for Adrien’s future birthdays in “Chris Master” just so Chris could question her on them and force her to come up with a lie. They don’t do it to further Marinette’s character; they do it to move the one-time plot forward.

And Chloe’s distaste of Kagami could certainly come into play in a future episode, but there’s no reason why it couldn’t have been established in that theoretical episode instead. That’s different from something set up for an episode-specific situation and also looks suspicious when added to Marinette’s set-up.

The same goes for the fact that Chloe learns about Marinette’s crush on Adrien. It’s the “Gigantitan” method where it’s something we could’ve already inferred and was likely slipped in just to claim the episode as non-filler.

Heck, this isn’t even the first episode to focus on criticism in some way. “Stormy Weather 2” tried to prove how much characters had “developed” while simultaneously showing how little has actually changed. Chloe was the biggest example of this, just as she’s the biggest example here, still hating Marinette and being a horrible person despite this being post-“Malediktator.”

It’s just not wise to make an episode addressing criticism when the episode itself is very easy to criticize.

[Ani-outro]

There are certain things I can accept for the sake of comedy. I mean, again, I laughed at stuff that Chloe and Gabriel did in this episode. However, that doesn’t mean everything can be explained away as a simple joke or “just for comedy so you’re not supposed to think about it.”

I can’t get over Tom and Sabine treating Marinette like they don’t trust her with a simple task, especially when the episode exaggerates both Marinette’s clumsiness and when she’s clumsy just to prove them right and not make them look like unsupportive parents (they still do).

I can’t get over Chloe being angry at Marinette after “Maledikatator.”

I can’t get over the fact that 75% of what the episode does is just a set up to play up sympathy for the villain-of-the-day, nor can I get over a blatant line about judging a trailer before the actual media comes out.

There’s also one more thing I want to say, and it relates back to Marinette. It’s less about this episode and more about the escalation of Marinette’s attempts to plan ahead with Adrien.

Everything Marinette has done in almost the entire show has been for nothing. Multiples attempts by her have ended in failure because of things outside her control, and Adrien’s mixed signals continued giving her hope that he might feel something for her. More than anything, she wants closure on their relationship. She wants to confess because she wants him to know how she feels.

Marinette is someone who works for what she wants. She has a stronger determination than most people her age and she strives for perfection.

The more the universe snaps back at her, the more desperate Marinette becomes. The more it pushes her, the more she feels she has to do in order to get Adrien’s attention.

When one birthday present didn’t work, she planned multiple presents, likely hoping that he’ll see at least one of them as hers.

When he was shown to like macaroons in the same episode that he danced romantically with her, she started making one that was his favorite flavor, probably on the chance that it would be a reminder of that experience and show that she thought of him.

When her words wouldn’t convey her emotions multiple times, she tried writing her feelings instead.

The show keeps raising the stakes with Marinette’s attempts to get to Adrien’s heart and the only reason I can muster is that Marinette is beyond desperate. She’s fighting back against a narrative that refuses to let her have her moment. Regardless of how healthy it is, Marinette is dedicated to what she wants and is being driven insane by a goal that tries to stop her at every opportunity.

No amounts of compliments from Jagged Stone are going to make her feel better about that.

#category: salt #episode: Animaestro #category: long post #word count: over 4000 #other: ask and answer #((No heavy ''they could've done this'' since there's another post about that coming later in the day.))

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 5 years

Text

A Strange Coincidence: Part 6

Stephen Strange x Reader, Slow Burn, Female Pronouns

A Strange Coincidence Masterlist

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: You’re a student who just moved to New York City to finish your PhD in Archeology. But, things turn for the strange when you accidentally stumble upon 177a Bleecker Street.

A/N: Wow, it’s been a long time. Hopefully y’all still remember me! This have been a little crazy on my end, mostly my post-grad existential crisis, but I’m mostly over it now. I’m going to me moving to Burbank in the next few days so things are going to still be a little up in the air, but they’ll be stable enough for me to be hopefully posting on a somewhat regular basis again. Thanks for all your patients. Love you guys!

Word Count: 3.2 K

You woke up in a haze. The light shined through your bedroom window, blinding your already bleary eyes.

All sense of time was lost. It could have been seven in the morning or three in the afternoon and you wouldn’t have known the difference. You rolled over, giving yourself time for your mind to catch up with your body.

Everything hurt. Not the dull throb of a hangover hurt, rather the morning after doing five hours at the gym when you hadn’t gone in six months. You tried to remember the events from the night before. You were still in your clothes and your mouth didn’t taste of anything besides sleep. It hurt to think. Every time you tried to remember you were instead bombarded by the images of a nightmare until reality and dreams blurred together.

Your phone rang, forcing you from your thoughts. You didn’t even bother to check caller ID when you answered.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N.”

You bolted upright, your mind pulling into sharp focus at the sound of your boss’s voice.

“Doctor Lewis,” you greeted, swallowing the roughness of sleep from your throat. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to come to the museum right away,” he answered in a clipped tone. “There’s been a break in. The police need to question the entire staff.”

It was then, everything came back to you.

“Of course,” you said, automatically. “I’ll be there right away.”

“Good, I expect you here in less than a half an hour.”

He hung up before you had a chance to respond, leaving you in a stunned stupor.

You got up and dressed in a daze. It couldn’t possibly be real. Doctor Strange, Dorgrath, your nightmare, magic, elder gods, all of it, it couldn’t exist. But then again, you weren’t that imaginative. The images from the night before and Strange’s promise echoed in your mind, following you until you were out the door and walking toward the museum.

Real or not, you needed a plan. There was no telling what the security cameras picked up. How were you going to explain what happened when you didn’t even know for certain what did happen? How were you going to explain what it was you saw?

You shuttered at the memory, forcing yourself forward. All you could do was wait and see.

Two police cars were parked outside of the entrance to the Tomb. Several of the staff were already gathered around while Doctor Lewis was talking to a detective.

It was an odd sight. You had never met anyone who looked more like a stock image of an old history professor, than Doctor Lewis. He always wore a tweed jacket the same way a high school football player would wear their team letterman jacket. Well-kept white hair and bread gave the air of aged dignity paired with a British accent to allow just the right amount of presumed superiority. It was such a cliché that having him talk to the police looked like something out of a police procedural. Unfortunately for you, it was anything but fictional.

“I am well aware of the state of our security,” Doctor Lewis defended. “I still don’t see how it’s our fault we got robbed.”

“I’m not saying that,” the detective said, in a tired tone. “I’m simply stating, I’m surprised you haven’t been robbed earlier. None of your cameras picked up anything during the time of the robbery, and your wiring isn’t up to code.”

It took everything in you not to audibly sigh in relief.

“What are you saying?” Lewis asked. “Somebody saw the lights were off and in the spur of the moment decided to steal from us?”

“No, but it wouldn’t take much to tamper with the power, not the mention the door was unlocked.”

Doctor Lewis jaw twitched. “Yes. Rest assured I will give our security staff a good talking too, and prompt termination.”

“It wasn’t their fault,” you said, calling attention to yourself. The detective looked at you with professional interest while Doctor Lewis reminded you of your father after you stayed out late with a friend.

Your swallowed, in an attempt to steal your sudden nerves. “I told Jimmy to leave the keys with me.”

“You’re Ms. Y/N,” the detective asked, taking a quick look at his notes.

“Yes sir.”

“You were the last one to leave the museum last night?”

“That I know of.”

He nodded. “Ms. Y/N, where were you between the hours of 9:30 and midnight last night?”

“Either going insane or being processed by a demon, yourself?”, you thought. But you answered with, “I was at home.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“No,” you said, your stomach twisting a little. “I live alone.”

You had the sudden wish for Doctor Strange to appear beside you. Between the two of you, maybe you could come up with a better lie. Just knowing someone was on your side, and an assurance you weren’t going crazy would be enough.

“What did you do before you left?” the detective continued.

“I was working, but then the power went out, and I got scared.” You shifted your stance, and looked down, hoping to portray the right amount of embarrassment. “I guess, I must have left the keys on the desk when I ran out.”

You glanced up slightly to see the detective and Doctor Lewis exchange an exasperated look which screamed: “Women? Am I right?”

Never in your life were you so grateful for internalized misogyny.

“Ms. Y/N, did you by chance catch a Dale Clemton on your way out?” the detective asked.

“No, sorry.”

“You’re not suggesting—” Doctor Lewis started, but the detective cut in.

“He didn’t show up for work last night and he hasn’t been responding to any of your calls. I think he’s worth looking into is all.” The detective then turned to you, with a half-smile. “I’m sorry to take up your time, miss. If you think of anything, please give me a call.”

He went to hand you his card, only to be intercepted by Doctor Lewis.

“If any of my employees think of something, I will let you know,” he said, coolly.

The detective knew better than to argue. With a nod, he walked back to the police cars.

“Disgusting,” Doctor Lewis mumbled. “Insignificant little…something or other.” His shoulders were still tense, but he kept the rest of his choice profanities to himself.

“If I can ask,” you said, careful to make sure his frustration remained with someone other than you. “What was stolen?”

“Only pieces in the basement, thank God,” he answered. “Some of the Egyptian statues, a handful of Nordic ruins, and a good deal of the Assyrian collection.”

You let out a breath. Sympathy for your colleagues aside, it did pull the spotlight off of you as a suspect.

“Oh, I am sorry Y/N,” Doctor Lewis said, remembering himself. “Your thesis. I’m not sure how you’ll be able to finish without the pieces.”

Your stomach dropped out from under you at that little reminder. A fresh new panic washed over you. Right. The reason why you worked at the museum in the first place was now gone. Lovely.

“I don’t feel it’s right for you to have to start over,” he continued. “But given the circumstances—"

“I’ll be able to finish!” you said, quickly. You could feel your hands shaking. “I’ve done so much research already. I have all my notes compiled. I promise I can finish based on what I have. It won’t be a problem. Please.”

Doctor Lewis eyed you wearily, but slowly nodded his head.

“If you say so. There are still pieces on display you can examine, and a few which weren’t stolen. But you are certain you can finish.”

You nodded insistently, even as your insides turned over.

He seemed to take it at face value before letting out a long sigh. “You might as well go home. The museum will be closed for a few days. I expect at least ten pages on my desk by Friday since you’re not working.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick promise to do just that, you took your exit. Writing would have to wait, you needed to see a Doctor.

You bounded up the last few steps to the Sanctum Santorum, taking a pause to catch your breath.

As soon as you were out of sight of the museum, you had broken out into a full out sprint. You were out of practice, but the combination of fear and excitement had pushed your forward. If you had been dreaming, and the robbery at the museum was just a coincidence, then there was a good 75% chance you were going completely insane. But, if you weren’t dreaming. Doctor Strange had made you a promise, and you were going to make him keep it.

Straightening up, you raised your hand to knock.

The door opened before you could touch it.

A wide smile spread across your face. Without a second thought to the outside world, you stepped inside.

The entry way felt brighter now. You hadn’t realized until that point you had only seen it at night. Light shone through the windows giving a warm glow to the wood interior.

A soft click caught your attention. Turning around, you saw the cloak floating there, presumably having closed the door behind you. A wave of relief washed over you at the sight.

“Hello, again,” you greeted.

The cloak gave a little excited wiggle as it glided toward you, spinning quickly around your body before flying up the staircase. You let out a small laugh, taking it as an invitation to follow.

It was hard not to stare at everything as you walked further in. For all you knew any tapestry or trinket you walked passed was secretly a magical weapon or ancient summoning ritual. There idea of anything there being décor for its own sake struck you as rather silly.

Soon you found yourself in a familiar space, surrounded by glass cases holding items of what could only be great significance. The cloak led you forward until you were in view of a large round window with an odd, eye shape design overlooking the skyline of Manhattan. And there, with a growingly familiar half smile, stood Doctor Strange.

“You came back.” His tone was light, but it couldn’t hide the trace of genuine surprise.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” you asked.

“I wasn’t sure,” he said, honestly. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”

You shrugged. “Like I said, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Clearly.” A small, almost proud smile crossed his lips. You weren’t sure why, but you felt your heart beat a little faster at the sight of it.

“I was called to the museum is morning,” you said, deciding not to dwell on it. “Apparently there was a break in.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” he said, innocently.

“And apparently whoever robbed us took quite a variety of items.”

He paused, in mock thought. “Well, it sounds to me whoever broke in was just grabbing all they could find. Not all that sophisticated. Some of the items will probably pop up on the art market sooner rather than later.”

A small bit of relief filled you. “Thank you. But don’t you mean, all of the items?”

“Some,” he emphasized. “That museum of yours is a minefield of mystical energy. I’m surprised something wasn’t brought to this world earlier.”

“Should we be worried?”

Strange shook his head. “Wong and I put a seal around the building. Even if something does come through, they won’t make it passed the perimeter.”

“You make it sound easy,” you joked.

“Trust me, it isn’t.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. Luckily, it wasn’t required as Strange took a step down towards you.

“But, first things first. Let me give you the tour.”

There didn’t seem to be an end to it. Every time you thought you had covered every inch of the Sanctum, there was another door which lead to more doors, and rooms and places you either could or could not enter. It seemed impossible, and then you realized it probably was.

It was all so peculiar that rooms as simple as a kitchen or bedroom felt like out of place. You said as much to Strange, causing him to laugh.

“I’d say you get used to it, but you never really do. Luckily, this next room is nice sanctuary from it all.”

He led you down the hallway to a set of large double doors. He paused in front, turning to look at you over his shoulder. With a smirk, he pulled the doors open, revealing the largest personal library you had ever seen in your life.

You stepped into the room in awe. Shelves and shelves lined the walls with even more running down the length of the room. The only reason they stopped was for the large table in the center. There were already a stack of books and paper littering its surface illuminated by a source, you couldn’t place.

“Impressed?” Strange asked.

You glanced at him to see he was looking at you with an amused expression. Under normal circumstances, you would have been annoyed, but you were too enraptured to care.

“This place has everything, doesn’t it?”

“Not everything,” he admitted, with a shrug. “There are some books you can only read in Kamar-taj. It would also be best to practice your spell casting there as well.”

You creased your brow in confusion. “Kamar-taj? Where’s that?”

“Tibet.”

“Tibet?”

He nodded, stepping out of the room and back down the hallway. You stood there for a moment in shock, before finally gaining your senses and following after him.

“Doctor Strange, I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“I am.”

“But…” You choked on all the words you wanted to say. How could he just say “Tibet” so casually like it was taking a day trip to the country?

“Doctor, I can’t just go to Tibet.”

“Why not? You said, you wanted to learn.”

He stepped through another set of doors. You followed after him, barely noticing the small pillar in the center of the room until you almost ran into it.

“And you said I couldn’t if it interfered with my studies here. Do you know how much a plane ride cost?”

“Eight-hundred and seventy-two dollars one way,” he answered.

“Exactly!”

“Trust me, money won’t be a problem.” He stepped through another door, this time leading into another library. It was just as big as the last one, but the shelves were much older, and not as highly staked. For a moment, you wondered where he could be leading you, but the immediate concern of Tibet, quickly shoved the thought to the back of your mind.

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me,” you said.

“What happened to not being able to afford to be broke?” he teased.

“That’s living New York, not gathering frequent flyer miles to Tibet!”

He didn’t say anything, continuing to lead on until you were upon another set of doors.

“I just don’t see why I can’t just study at home,” you insisted.

“Why would you want to go home?” he asked. “You’re already here.”

“What?”

He shot you a sideways smile before placing a hand on the doorknob and opening the door.

If the library had impressed you, this left you in awe.

A stone courtyard lay before you opening up into a sparling compound designed with intricately carved wooden pillars, stone statues, and tiered rooftops. In the distance, you could see the tops of mountains surrounding you on all sides. An assortment of people ranging in age and nationality wandered through, dressed in red robes, similar to Strange. Some were simply walking buy, talking with scrolls under their arms. A group on the far end were sparing while others were practicing, what you could only presume as spells.

You stepped down feeling a chill run up your spine. The air was cool and clean, a far cry from the clustered mugginess of New York. This wasn’t an illusion. You were just in New York, and now, you were somewhere else.

Slowly, you turned to Strange.

“This is Kamar-taj, isn’t it?”

He nodded, with that same bemused expression on his face. You weren’t sure if it was from seeing you off balance, or if this was his way of showing off. Either way, you couldn’t really be that mad about it.

You looked back at the courtyard as a smile spread across your face. “Y/N, you’re really not in Kansas anymore,” you said, softly.

“Understatement,” Strange said. He took a place beside you, looking out in the courtyard.

“Is everyone here a wizard too,” you asked.

“Master of the Mystic Arts,” he corrected, with only surface level annoyance. “And yes, most of them are, but some are training to be.”

“I didn’t realize there were so many.”

“Protecting the Earth is a full-time job, considering what else is out there.”

The image of fire, and the contorted limbs flashed into your mind. Dorgrath, the Unnamed One; they were just the tip of the iceberg. And something told you, they weren’t even the worst of it. A chill ran up your spine.

Evidently, Strange took notice, as his voice became uncharacteristically soft.

“You still can go back to Kansas,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

You turned to him, slightly taken aback by how close he actually was. His blue eyes gazed intently into yours, effectively conveying the sincerity of his words. Oddly enough, the concern so evident in his features only cemented your resolve.

“Not on your life Scarecrow.”

His lip twisted up to a slight smile at your words.

“Scarecrow?” he questioned.

“Either that or Glinda.” You shrugged. “And I’m not sure if you can pull off pink.”

“That’s…fair?”

You laughed lightly, before looking out into the courtyard once more. This morning you almost had a panic attack over possibly having to start your thesis over, and now you were signing on to fighting demons. Maybe you were going just a little mad after all.

“Where should we start Doctor or, should I call you Master Strange now?”

“Doctor is fine,” he assured. “Or if you’re really feeling crazy, you can even call me Stephen.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor.”

He rolled his eyes at your response, before nodding his head towards the sparing group.

“Let’s start with some basics. Have you ever taken a self-defense class?”

“Does fencing count?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head curiously. Fencing?”

You shrugged. “It was in grad school. Some of the Medieval history students thought it would be fun to form a club. I got pretty good with a broad sword.”

He nodded, looking just a little impressed by your answer.

“That, and I wanted to be a Jedi,” you said, with a half-smile.

“That checks out,” he said, dryly.

You chuckled lightly, as Strange grinned at your reaction.

“Shall we get started then, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked.

“Lead the way Doctor Strange.”

Permanent Tag List: @sassy-satanunicorns, @roseslovedreams, @stargeek727, @kaliforniacoastalteens, @yourwonderbelle, @stevethotgers, @stellasakura31

Doctor Strange Tag List: @siriuslovesmarlene, @letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse, @spectre-leader, @independentideals, @cinnabearice, @queen-maximoff, @quicksilverslover, @yana-versio, @megaburrito2, @hostofthefirenation, @lady-sigyn, @sekhmet5, @somethingwickedthiswaylives, @kheartmoblie

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#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #doctor strange imagine #marvel imagine #doctor strange #stephen strange #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine

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lovlieziam · 5 years

Text

@treacle-black asked for prompt #66 on the drabbles, so here ya go :) I hope you enjoy!!

66. It’s not a donkey. It’s a mule.

Out of all the dumb shit Louis has convinced Zayn to do in the 20 years he’s known him, this probably takes the cake. And maybe Zayn was slightly overreacting—because Louis was a bad influence, honestly, and they’ve done a lot of stupid things—but going to the zoo at 7:30 in the fucking morning was insane.

“Quit being dramatic, Zayn. It’s the fucking zoo. Not like we’re breaking any laws, here.” Zayn rolled his eyes in response to Louis’ harsh words. It wasn’t the zoo that was bothering him, it was the early hour and Louis’ sour attitude. He didn’t want to be here, thanks.

“Oh, now I’m the dramatic one? Literally all you’ve done since you picked me up is complain. If you don’t wanna be here, then why are we, exactly?”

Louis cut a glare in Zayn’s direction. “Fuck you, you know exactly why I’m here.”

And okay, Zayn did know, but, “It’s not my fault you waited until the last minute to do your paper. You’re the one that wanted to do it on fucking donkeys.” And really, Louis could have picked anything—their professor just wanted to gauge how much they knew about research papers. The topics to choose from were endless, but Louis chose donkeys. He was pretty sure he knew why, but he’d never actually asked.

“But Zayn, think of it! Donkeys are the perfect topic. Do you know how many times I’ll be able to use the word ass in my paper? It’s genius.”

Zayn rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might fall out. That was the exact reason he thought Louis had chosen them. He loved his friend dearly, but sometimes his definition of ‘genius’ was a little skewed.

“You’re ridiculous, and I still don’t understand why we even had to come here. Couldn’t you have just googled facts like the rest of us? There’s no reason for us to be stuck staring at a donkey at eight in the fucking morning.”

“Actually, it’s not a donkey.” Both Zayn and Louis swung around at the voice, turning to face a very attractive worker. Zayn was left speechless when he took in the man’s bright eyes and barrage of muscle. “It’s a mule,” the boy continued, and Zayn fell a little in love with the gentle way he spoke and the endearing curve of his lips.

“What?” Zayn’s attention was drawn away from the boy and to Louis when he spoke. Zayn was just as confused as Louis sounded. In his defense, the boy standing in front of them was so beautiful it was disorienting. Zayn wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to follow a conversation, not if this boy was going to keep smiling like that.

The boy cocked his head, his smile turning a little nervous, and God help him, Zayn was endeared. Why did this boy look like a human puppy? It was hazardous to his health, honestly. Zayn wasn’t sure he’d survive in the aftermath of this conversation.

“The, um, the animal behind you? That y-you called a donkey?” He looked at Zayn, making direct eye contact for the first time, and Zayn was pretty sure he was melting. Someone better call in the cleaning crew because soon Zayn would be just a puddle of mush under those warm brown eyes. “It’s not, um. It’s not actually a donkey. It’s a mule.” The boy brought a hand up to the back of his neck, a blush working its way up his cheeks as he adverted his eyes.

“They’re very similar because, well, mules are the offspring of donkeys, but, um. They also are the offspring of horses, too.” The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. “Male donkeys and female horses, to be more specific.” He chanced a glance back up at Zayn and gave a small, soft smile and, fuck, Zayn now knew he wasn’t going to survive this conversation. “I just, um, didn’t want you to have false information? I, uh, I heard you say something about an essay? And I didn’t want you to, um, be misinformed.” He finished with an embarrassed shrug, his hand finally dropping back to his sides as his face took on an even deeper flush.

It was official. Zayn was already 100% in love with this boy.

“Cheers, mate,” Louis said, and it was then that Zayn remembered what was going on. He was so caught up in the cute zookeeper that he forgot that Louis was even there. “You probably just saved my ass.”

The boy swung his own startled gaze over to Louis, like he himself had forgotten he was there. “Um, yeah, yeah. ‘Course. ‘S my job.”

Louis shot the boy a grin before turning to Zayn, and Zayn tried really hard to mask whatever expression he had there—Zayn knew he was more than a little endeared with this boy, and if anyone was going to be able to tell, it was Louis. He knew Zayn better than practically anyone, and the last thing he needed was a day filled with fucking ass jokes about the zoo employee. Louis thought he was clever, and he was relentless about it.

Zayn realized too late that he didn’t compose his face fast enough because he watched as a wicked smile stole over Louis’ lips. He was so, so fucked.

“Say, what’s your name, mate?” Louis asked as he turned to face the boy again.

“Erm, I’m Liam,” the boy mumbled. His face was still covered in that lovely shade of red, and Zayn was pretty sure his own eyes had formed into the shape of hearts. Liam. He really liked that name.

This was going to be a disaster.

“Liam, hmm?” Zayn had a sudden fantasy of kicking Louis. He had to physically restrain himself from actually doing so. “How much do you know about donkeys, Liam?” And Louis’ voice was absolutely diabolical, and Zayn knew he was going to regret whatever was about to come out of Louis’ mouth.

Liam stuttered a little in front of them, his body obviously tense with the urge to flee. Zayn didn’t blame him; he was fighting the same urge. Louis’ tone had suggested nothing good. “Um, a little, I guess? Not too much, I—”

“Because, you see, dear Liam, my friend Zayn here,” Louis gestured to Zayn, his smirk making dread sink into Zayn’s stomach. He was definitely going to regret the next words out of Louis’ mouth. “Just absolutely loves asses, and I’m sure he’d love it if you could tell him all about the one you have here.”

Zayn choked as Louis’ words hit him, his eyes widening and his face flaming with embarrassment. Zayn wanted to die. Honestly, fuck Louis Tomlinson. He was the worst fucking friend on the plant and Zayn was going to kill him.

“Louis,” Zayn bit out, and all Louis did was laugh like a fucking maniac. Seriously, he was dead. Zayn didn’t care if he spent the rest of his life in prison, Louis was a dead man. Zayn chanced a glance at Liam and felt his expression soften a bit at the timid smile on the boy’s face. Liam’s face was even redder than before—which was a feat, since it was pretty flushed before—but he also had a shy smile on his face that he was directing at Zayn. There was a barely concealed gleam in his eyes, one that was eerily similar to the one Louis had in his. It made Zayn’s breath come in short puffs thinking about the possibilities behind those playful eyes.

“I’m glad you asked,” Liam began. His shy smile curved up into a smirk as he met Louis’ gaze head on. “A little fun fact about donkeys is that they really enjoy rolling around with other donkeys, which I totally get.” He looked over to Zayn, before, “It’s one of my favorite things to do, too, though I prefer somewhere a little more comfortable than the dirt.” He shot Zayn a wink and Zayn couldn’t fucking breath. Liam, the seemingly shy zookeeper, had just made a pass at him. Liam had just suggested he liked rolling around in bed. Then he’d winked at Zayn. Zayn was pretty sure his knees were about to give out.

Louis let out a delighted laugh next to him, and Zayn was once again drug back from his Liam consumed thoughts.

“Aww, don’t like getting all dirty, Liam?” Zayn felt his breath catch once again because, honestly, couldn’t Louis just shut up. Once again, heat rose in Zayn’s cheeks, but when he looked back to Liam he forgot all about his embarrassment. The gleam in Liam’s eyes from earlier had seemingly doubled. His smirk was wicked enough to rival Louis’ and fuck, Zayn was in over his head. This boy was going to be the death of him and they’d just met. He hadn’t even said anything to the boy. Literally not one word and he was ready to start planning their wedding.

“I never said that,” Liam began. “In fact, I quite enjoy getting dirty.” He arched an eyebrow at Louis before turning his gaze back to Zayn. He let his eyes slowly rake over Zayn’s body and Zayn’s knees almost gave out again. Liam’s gaze left a blistering trail of goosebumps erupting over Zayn, his skin heating up at the pure want obvious in his eyes. “Really, really like getting dirty.”

Fuck, Zayn was going to die. Liam was going to make him self-combust right here in front of the mule exhibit.

Louis let out a little choking laugh next to Zayn, drawing both the other boys’ attention. Liam seemed to come back to himself in that moment, a blush overtaking his cheeks once again as he realized what he just implied.

“Right,” he mumbled. “Well, I’m just going to, um, get back to work.” Liam took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed before opening them again. They landed on Zayn, Liam’s smile making him feel a little fuzzy. “Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?” He shot Zayn another wink, and Zayn decided he needed to start going to the gym. Really, his knees should not be that willing to give out every time this boy so much as looked at him.

As he walked away, Zayn felt a lump rise in his throat. He couldn’t just let this boy walk away. He didn’t know if he’d ever see him again after this, and that left him feeling more than a little upset.

“I think I like him, Zayn,” Louis said. “He would probably be perfect for you.”

Yes, Zayn was well aware of that, and there was no fucking way he was letting Liam just walk away from them, not if he could go toe to toe with Louis like that. Plus, he was more than a little turned on right now, and from a conversation. If Liam could do that just by talking, Zayn couldn’t wait to find out what he could do with his hands. Zayn took off after Liam, anticipation running through his veins.

“Where are you going?” Louis shouted behind him.

Zayn turned around, walking backwards for a few steps as he said, “I’m not going to let the love of my life walk away without at least his fucking number, Louis,” before he ran into something warm and solid. Zayn felt himself freeze up, slowly turning around to be faced with none other than Liam himself.

Liam was smiling down at him, his eyes practically disappearing with the force of it. “The love of your life, huh?”

Zayn felt his blush return with a vengeance, all his words leaving him. Why did he have to turn into such a mess around this boy. “U-um, y-yeah. I mean, I was just, um, I was…” He trailed off as Liam’s smile softened, gazing down at Zayn with so much warmth it made Zayn a little drunk. “Can I have your number, Leeyum?”

Liam giggled, he fucking giggled, and Zayn was already writing his vows.

“Yeah,” Liam said. “You definitely can.”

#I had two ideas for this one #one super fluffy and one a little cheeky #i went with the cheeky one #I hope you liiike it :)#my writing #drabbles #ziam

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