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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Dolce

3x06

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, drugs

Author’s Note: I don’t want to leave Florence :( but i do be missing the dogs

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: Jack seriously doubts Will's loyalties as the two renew their alliance. Mason Verger plots Hannibal Lecter's capture, while Lecter plans for his final stand.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

all gifs @/rocktheholygrail

Hannibal sat in the bathtub. His head leaned against the side of it. Bedelia sat beside him. She wrung a sponge over his broken, beaten and cut body. Hannibal's eyes landed on hers and his pain saw you, wishing that you were there. He had been waiting for you and Will to arrive, wishing that it was going to happen. He wanted it to be you cleaning his wounds.

He needed it to be you cleaning his wounds.

His wish to have you come with him in the first place that was so strained he didn’t even realize the severity of it until just that moment. In pain, bleeding, sensing the end of something.

Jack Crawford looked at the dead body of Pazzi. It was being carted off by the police, the duck tape still pressed onto his face. Jack was tired. He had gotten a few scratches from his fight with Hannibal but none as severe as Hannibal’s.

Will walked up to Jack. Jack saw him out of the corner of his eye and situated himself toward his former colleague.

“He’s wounded and worried.” You emerged from the crowd behind Will and gave Jack a simple look. Both of you were scratched up. Dried blood covered Will’s forehead and there was a scratch on your cheek. You both clearly had been through something but Jack had not time to ask.

“Hannibal doesn’t worry. Knowing he’s in danger won’t rattle him any more than killing does,” Will said. The three of you looked into the Atrocious Torture Exhbiit, the place where Hannnibal and Jack had fought it out.

“If Rinaldo Pazzi decided to do his duty as an officer of the law, he could have detained Dr. Fell and determined very quickly that he was Hannibal Lecter. Would have taken thirty minutes to get a warrant,” Jack said solemnly.

“All those resources were denied to Pazzi. Once he decided to sell Hannibal, he became a bounty hunter,” Will stated. You scoffed.

“Serves him right. Mason Verger is trying to capture Hannibal himself for purposes of personal revenge. I've often wanted to use my own resources to drop him in his pig's den,” you muttered.

“Have you told la polizia they’re looking for Hannibal Lecter?” Will asked Jack.

“They’re motivated to find Dr. Fell inside the law. Knowing who he is..and what he’s worth, will just coax them out of bounds.”

“It would be a free-for-all,” Will pointed out.

“And Hannibal would slip away.” Jack paused. Both you and Will were facing opposite directions, looking at different artifacts. “Would you slip away with him?”

You and Will shared a look.

“Part of me will always want to,” Wil said.

“You have to cut that part out,” Jack argued.

“You aren’t FBI anymore Jack. You can’t tell either of us what to do,” you sneered. You believed that. Jack had no bearings over your feelings for Hannibal. You were annoyed he thought he had any.

“So you’ll go with him to jail?” Jack asked. You faced him completely.

“If I had come with him to Florence he wouldn’t be going to jail.”

“And that’s what you want?” Jack challenged. You stepped forward to him.

“I hate to see you win Jack.”

“You had him. He was beaten. Why didn’t you kill him?” Will asked, stepping in. Jack, eyes still on you, considered it.

“Maybe I need you to.”

Hannibal looked out the window. He was wearing a cozy sweater, cuddling into it for the last glimpse of hope he may get before a cage. He sketched into his book. Memories of Florence.

“I want to be able to draw these streets from memory. I want to be able to draw the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo,” Hannibal said whimsically. Bedelia approached him and took the book from his hand.

“You won’t be coming back here for a very long time,” she whispered.

“Memories of Florence will be all I have. Florence is where I became a man. I see my end in my beginning.”

“All of our endings can be found in our beginnings. History repeats itself and we can’t escape it,” Bedelia stated, turning into the home. Hannibal glanced at the small suitcase. Hsi coat was draped over it.

“You packed lightly,” he stated.

“I packed for you.” She paused a moment and off his questioning look, moved forward. “This is where I leave you. Or more accurately, where you leave me.”

Hannibal nodded slowly. His eyes scanned from the suitcase to her eyes. In essence he was aware he was giving up his Florence hope of you and him. He was aware that he was saying goodbye to Bedelia and also your alternate self.

In hopes to see you again, perhaps for real this time.

Bedelia put a needle carefully on her table. She saw the face of Chiyoh in the back of her mirror and turned around simply, confused at her presence.

“You must be looking for Hannibal Lecter. One of his patients?” she questioned.

“No, not a patient. Where is he?” Chiyoh asked. Her gun was in her hand delicately. It looked like it weighed a feather.

“Gone. Seeing how you let yourself in, I hope it’s not too forward to ask, who the hell are you?”

“Family,” Chiyoh landed on.

“Ah. You’ve come a long way from home,” Bedelia pointed out.

“Who are you?”

“I’m his psychiatrist.” Chiyoh glanced at the ampoule and needle. Bedelia shrugged.

“Medicinal purposes.” Chiyoh studied her further, her eyes narrowed.

“You’re like his bird. I’m his bird, too. I met another one, on the train ride here. He puts us in cages to see what we’ll do.”

“Fly away or dash ourselves dead against the bars,” Bedelia suggested.

“You haven’t flown away.”

Hannibal Lecter looked between the Primavera and his sketchbook. He was drawing it for the thousandth time but this time, in place of the garlanded nymph was your face. In place of pale zephyrus was Will.

Over Hannibal’s shoulder, Will walked into the room. Slowly, the suit that he was wearing suddenly seeming so stuffy. Will’s eyes landed on Hannibal for the first time since Hannibal gutted him. Both men battered and bruised.

He moved forward and gently laid a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal looked up at Will and smiled, pleased to see him. Will sat down beside Hannibal and for a moment they both absorbed the moment.

“Good to see you,” Will said.

“If I saw you everyday forever, Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal said as he stared at the man that he loved. They stared at each other for a moment and Will’s smile seemed the brightest thing Hannibal had seen in so long.

“Strange to see you in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven’t been in years,” Will stated.

“To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig,” Hannibal said lightly.

“I looked up at the night sky there. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. She wondered if our stars were the same.”

She.

You. “I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You entered the foyer of my mind and stumbled down the hall of my beginnings.”

“I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear what I was seeing,” Will explained.

“Where does difference between the past and the future come from?” Hannibal questioned.

“Mine? Before you and after you.” He paused. “Yours? It’s all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh.”

“How is Chiyoh?”

Between both boys shoulders, you emerged. You were wearing a gorgeous dress that you usually wouldn’t have pulled out. You bought it here in Florence. It reminded you of Hannibal. Plus your other clothes were bloodied. You looked just as battered and bruised as they did.

You all pulled it off with a regal amount of elegance.

“She pushed us off a train,” you said. Hannibal turned around to see you. The first time you had laid eyes on each other since you had kissed. It was interesting for Hannibal now. He had to double check that Will had heard you too.

“Atta girl.”

“Ah, it hurt,” you said. You walked around the bench and sat between them. They allowed you enough room. You looked at Hannibal and smiled. He smiled back at you.

“We have begun to blur,” Will said after a moment more of absorbing.

“Isn’t that how you found me?” Hannibal questioned.

“Even as the possibility of free will dissipates, my experience of it remains the same. I continue to feel and act as though I have it.”

You looked over at Will and then back at Hannibal. You placed your hands on your lap.

“Why did you let Bedelia live?” you asked. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I figured she had been long dead, gone through and out of your digestive system at this point. There should not have been an ounce of her left so imagine my surprise when I see her completely alive. Confused and lying, but alive.” Hannibal looked into your eyes and you understood.

“I think you know why.”

You held your gaze and then had to leave it in fear of getting emotional.

“Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail’s murder, but every murder streching backward and forward in time,” Will said after a moment.

“Then what’s left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they’re the same. No longer seeing you in people who aren’t you Y/N. You are part of his equation just as much as Will and I.”

You smiled solemnly.

“We’re conjoined. Curious if any of us can survive separation,” you mused.

“Now’s the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking.” Hannibal stood up and gestured for you to take his hand. “Shall we?” You took it and stood. Will’s hand was already interlaced between yours, something you did subconsciously when you sat down.

You all stood.

“After you,” Will muttered.

Together the three of you left the gallery. Worse for wear but something blossomed in your hearts, something that only the other two could bring out. You had walked only a few steps before Will was shot to the ground.

Hannibal held Will close to him, trying to get him into the chair. You stood beside him, helping him take his jacket off. Will winced and fell forward, his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. Will’s shirt was soaked with blood. It was dripping down his arm from where the bullet wound entered.

“The bullet is still inside you. This will hurt.” Hannibal took the jacket all the way off and Will watched as Hannibal cut off his shirt. The three of you hadn’t been this close since you were last covered in Will’s blood.

“Chiyoh’s always been very protective of me,” Hannibal said as he looked into the wound.

“Tell her to back the hell off,” you sneered.

“Did she kill her tenant or did you?”

“She did,” Will choked out.

“Excellent.” Hannibal took Will’s knife you didn’t know he had with him, back into his limp hand. “You dropped your forgiveness, Will.” You stared at the blade, bloodied. You caught Will’s eyes. He hadn’t told you he had brought a weapon. “You forgive how God forgives. Would you have done it quickly, or would you have stopped to gloat?”

“Will?” you whispered.

“Does God gloat?” Will asked.

“Often,” Hannibal answered.

Hannibal moved a sharp needle into Will before you even noticed he had it. Will dropped the blade into Hannibal’s waiting hand. Will passed out.

Your mouth hung open as your gaze held the knife. You still had your hand putting pressure into Will’s wound but it loosened.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, looking up at Hannibal.

“I know,” Hannibal responded. “You wouldn’t have done it anyway. I’m going to dress his wound and get the bullet out. Would you mind waiting in the kitchen? Dinner is almost ready.”

You were so stunned that you stood up. You felt the pull of needing to be by Will but wondered what he would have done to Hannibal. Would you have gone with it?

Chiyoh was right.

You were not the kind of girl who followed a man's lead.

You grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder and pulled him up.

“Why are you staying?”

“Why didn’t you come with me?”

You stared at each other.

“I love Will.”

“The Bloody Valentines.” You scoffed and took the knife from Hannibal’s hands. You threw it off to the side.

“Will is drugged.”

“Are you going to drug me Hannibal?” You stared at each other and he kissed you feverishly, the way he had wanted to since you kissed him last. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. You hadn’t touched him in so long.

You pulled away after a moment.

“I wanted to go,” you whispered. “I regretted now going.” You pulled away and stepped back. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Please fix Will.”

Will’s eyes fluttered open. Hannibal walked into the dining room with a large bowl in his hands. Will had a dish set out in front of him.

“I do not indulge much in regret, but I am sorry to be leaving Italy. There were things in the Palazzo Capponi I would have liked to read,” Hannibal admitted. In from the kitchen came you, holding a different dish. You placed it on the table.

A last dodge attempt at normalcy.

“I would have liked to play the clavier and perhaps compose. I might have cooked for the Widow Pazzi, when she overcame her grief. I would have liked to show you both Florence.”

You sat down beside Will and spoon fed him some soup. He looked over at you, confused, doped up.

“The soup isn’t very good,” he slurred.

“It’s a parsley-and-thyme infusion, and more for my sake than yours. Have another sip, let it circulate,” Hannibal explained. Will took another spoon from you. Will and you finally noticed the final place setting at the end of the table.

“Are we expecting company?”

Hannibal grabbed your arm tightly and stood you up.

“It will be Jack,” he told you.

You glanced at Will, out of his mind and slowly losing sight. Hannibal was giving you the invitation you had wanted since Jack stepped into Will’s classroom to talk about Garret Jacob Hobbs.

Jack opened the door to Pazzi’s home. He had his gun held up high as he looked around every corner before he stepped forward. Eventually, Will at the end of the table came into view.

He walked forward and up to Will who blinked, focused on Jack and took a deep breath.

“Hannibal’s under the table, Jack,” Will muttered. Before Jack could react you had grabbed him from behind and a blade slashed Jack’s achilles heel.

Jack dropped hard.

Hannibal turned to you and his gaze softened.

“You will not join me in prison,” he whispered. Your eyebrows furrowed. He grabbed your arm and shoved a needle into your side. You let out a small, betrayed sigh and passed out.

Jack came to and found himself seated opposite Will.

“I’ve taken the liberty of giving you something to help you relax. Won’t be able to do much more than chew, but that’s all you’ll need to do. I didn’t have an opportunity to ask you during our last encounter, but did you enjoy the exhibition? A different kind of evil minds museum,” Hannibal said to Jack.

“Not so different,” Jack retored. He noticed you were gone from the room.

“The promoters are failed taxidermists who formerly got along by eating offal from the trophies they mounted things that bring people together.”

“We were supposed to sit down together back in Baltimore...the three of us. And Y/N.”

“You were to be the guest of honor,” Hannibal said, ignoring the mention of your name. Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine and took a leisurely sip.

“Where…” Will started but he didn’t finish.

“Jack was the first to suggest getting inside your head,” Hannibal said. “Now be both have the opportunity to chew quite literally what we’ve only chewed figuratively.”

Hannibal held a bone saw in his hands. Jack suddenly realized what was going on. For a moment, all Jack could think about was what you would say if you were in the room.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Blood trickled down Will’s head despite his protests.

3x07

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal imagines

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hatterstan-shameblog · 4 years ago

Note

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date�� is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY???#fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

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alienahellsparkle · 4 years ago

Text

❦ List fandoms of my heart: №3 (the last).

✯ Kuroshitsuji (Dark Butler)

This anime is my guide to the world of anime, my first of all, and the first that I liked. In addition, I have been watching it since I was 13 (omg, how old I am..).

I can say, from it I learned what anime is. It is one of my favorites and one of those that I can revisit (P.S .: And I'm still waiting for the new season or new full-length films, although no one said anything or promised anything about it).

The advantages of this anime are - interesting plots, 19th century setting mixed with the supernatural, soundtracks and a huge number of different characters for every taste. As I can tell, everyone will find their ideal 2D kun or chan here.

I could single out a lot of cool characters, but I'm afraid they could be spoilers too, so I'll just mention a few of my personal favorites.

Sebastian is a demon butler and another protagonist besides Ciel. A jack of all trades, a cool killer and one of the most real handsome men who stole many hearts from the female audience, who is in many similar tops and sometimes even has leading positions. I can say that he was my very first anime - love.

Prince Soma is an Indian prince. I don't know how many fans he has, but I think not as many as Sebastian and Ciel. Actually, Soma is the one who attracted me much more and my love for Sebastian did not last forever. This is because Soma, in addition to being beautiful and Indian (which was important to me as a lover of Bollywood films and music, and also interested in Indian culture), has a sweet and good personality. Three combos!

Madame Red is a bright woman with a difficult fate. I guess there isn't much more to say here (spoilers, spoilers, damn it).

Pluto is a devilish dog. Cutie, charming, with one cool ability and mine another anime-love (those who know this character and his unusual ability - yes - yes, I know it's weird to fall in love with characters like him).

As I said, the soundtracks are wonderful - some of the tunes have some classic notes in them, and also, the opening can be recognized from a thousand and it is easy to remember which anime it belongs to.

Also, there are elements of detective and crime, which also adds its own special shades and makes this anime even more interesting and aesthetically pleasing.

I look forward to continuing with it and begin to show interest in anime of a similar genre and setting in one (I found something similar, for example, as "House of Shadows").

✯ Dame x Prince

Another anime that became my find and I can watch it many times. I liked it so much that after I found it (in 2018 it was a spring novelty), I watched almost all the episodes in one gulp and only later realized that it ends too quickly, because I could not stop in time.

This anime contains everything that I love about the reverse - harems - beautiful drawing, bright colors, romance, elements of comedy and fantasy, attractive male characters and not a stupid main character who can be respected.

We can say that Ani is one of the few normal owners of a harem, but she can be considered a diamond among them. She is encouraged by her courage and the fact that she is not embarrassed when guys compliment her or try to flirt (I could say more about her, but these will be spoilers).

Despite the fact that here the male characters are clichéd, for example - a kind cutie, handsome womanizer, narcissistic rude and so on, they look cool and interesting to watch, it's a pity that we will never know which of them Ani chose in the end.

In addition, there is one more plus in the form of a good plot, after which it helps some characters to reveal themselves.

Even if many people do not always take girly harem animes well and consider them worthless and empty, just to please teenage girls with cute romance in a colorful wrapper, this anime genre also deserves a place to be. Who knows, maybe soon the reverse - harems will evolve even more, at least there are already some anime-worthy options. Everything has its fans..

In general, this is a good and positive anime that can bring more colors to life. And I still hope for season 2..

✯ Nanbaka

When you watch a video on the topic: "Guess the gender of anime characters", you will not think that in this way you will be able to discover a new anime. That's how I found out about Nanbaka, after which I watched the first season in a couple of days.

I associate this anime with the beginning of July 2018 and the dairy drinks Twix, Milky Way and Snickers, which at that time I was finally able to taste.

Nanbaka has several advantages - a cool variety of characters, an element of comedy, and an equally vibrant color scheme. Also, I noticed that all characters have their own special difference - they all have nails painted in a different color and have small fangs.

Despite the fact that there is no romance here and the plot is built around a prison theme, Nanbaka is quite interesting to watch, and in some episodes there are elements of drama and seriousness. However, if the first season is more comical situations, then the second season is a little more serious, at least there are more problems that the heroes solve.

Of the characters, there are not only bisonens and heroes with simple qualities including kindness, cuteness, foolishness, signs of a womanizer, hot temper and severity, but there are also unexpected specimens, such as several LGBTQ characters and even antagonists.

Unfortunately, Nanbaka is not a very popular fandom and most likely there will never be a third season... But this is another solid anime that can be endlessly watched and is one of those that drags on from the first episodes.

✯ Romance Club

This visual novel often came across to me in YouTube recommendations, in the form of walkthroughs and analysis of Easter eggs from it.

At first, I was not very interested in this, and from the video, my first impression was that this is just an incomprehensible game with characters similar to cardboard figures, but for some reason it became very popular and discussed on social networks.

After some time, I still began to watch the walkthroughs and more or less began to understand what the whole highlight of the game is, and after that, I began to play myself, though at the beginning, then, I had only a plan to while away the rest of summer time until autumn, but I didn’t notice how I began to be drawn into the RC and it became not just a game for one time, it became a habit that is difficult to get rid of.

Now, it's not just a bunch of pretty cardboard character figurines and a joke that RC is a mix of films like "50 Shades of Gray" and "Twilight", made for teenage girls.

Romance Club is - characters for every taste, from whites and Europeans, to Hispanics and Asians, both boys and girls. LGBTQ relationships have not been forgotten here either.

Various stories with any setting - vampires + werewolves, pirates, aliens, 19th-18th century, royal setting, movie stars and fame, Scandinavian mythology, ancient Greek mythology, sea and beach setting, detectives and crime, ancient Japan (geisha and samurai) , angels and demons, everyday life and much more, but the creators continue to delight us with new stories to this day, and I think we still have a lot to see.

Beautiful graphics and drawing of characters, cool design of clothes, and also, here you can learn how to beautifully compose texts and sentences (let's say this can be useful for the writing sphere), since some stories contain wonderful descriptions of some scenes and comparisons of concepts (example. "Stars as luminous points," and the like).

But besides romance, other important topics can be revealed here, such as the concept of friendship, a hard life due to many problems, courage and self-confidence, and sometimes even 18+ topics can be touched upon. In addition, some stories have instructive facts, for example, something about the history of Turkey during the Ottoman Empire.

Romance Club is scientifically enlightening!

Despite the fact that I refused to play games, since they take a lot of time, during which you can do a bunch of other useful things, RC is the only game (besides the Sims) on which I do not regret wasting my time and it is always interesting to watch new stories and how the old ones will end.

(P.S.:

here is part 1 https://lenahellsparkle.tumblr.com/post/650656683336548352/list-fandoms-of-my-heart-1

part 2 https://lenahellsparkle.tumblr.com/post/655103141583470593/list-fandoms-of-my-heart-2)

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whisperingrockers · 4 years ago

Note

would u. i dunno. perhaps articulate some thots on toh infinity train au 😳 if u can

HM. i will do my best. but...i dont really know how to organize my thoughts. i guess i should probably just start with the characters and go from there, huh. also in this particular au these characters don’t actually take the place of tulip, lake, jesse, grace, etc- i think they’re all just there under different circumstances.

Luz

okay so we’ll start with Luz because. she’s the main character, y’know. very important. i think the catalyst that brings her to the train is her mother signing her up for Reality Check summer camp because as a creative it’s just! disheartening to have someone you love tell you that you’re not going to make it in this world if you don’t conform to what everyone else wants. so of course when a huge mysterious locomotive suddenly pulls up to the bus stop you KNOW luz gets on, no hesitation. after all, isn’t that something right out of a sci-fi adventure novel?

unlike tulip, luz is THRILLED to find herself on some unknowable train where each car is a new adventure just waiting to happen, where there are always new friends to make, new places to see, and tons of puzzles to solve? she’s made to feel like the protagonist right out one of her fave animes.

also, really important to note that her number is probably tied to how she relates to the other passengers on the train. i feel like there’s an overarching theme in the show about how luz is going through a lot of firsts when it comes to interpersonal relationships, especially friendships, so i wanted to keep that going in this au- i imagine her number goes up when she finds her friends tapes and convinces them to watch with her because this is obviously the easiest and most straightforward way to get to know them! (luz poppin that bad boy into a vcr player: this mama is ready for trauma!)

realized how wordy this is going to be LOL

Eda

hough so this is a human au also (i assume? infinity train world really do be existing in some limbo state of reality where your reflection can just up and ditch you). i see her as a jack of all trades, master of none type, with a lean towards perfumes and handmade soaps that she sells at fairs or farmers markets and also pickpocketing. i think she sees something that reminds her of the life she used to have/would have had before lilith [redacted because i do not know what she DID yet but on GOD we will have canon continuity] and that drives her to get on the next train headed anywhere.

her number is tied to how much she allows herself to open up; the more she uses her salesman cover to keep others at arms length, the higher her number goes, which is why it’s so important for her to team up with King and Luz; they help her open up and be more honest with herself.

King

king is actually a denizen of the train in this au; i love him too much to turn him into a real ass dog, so i wont. eda meets him in a car full of plush toys, which he refers to lovingly as his army of the damned. i almost want to hold off on writing up any more for him because i know there’s more to king’s character than meets the eye. still torn between eda trying to bring him off the train with her or having him realize that the whole TRAIN is HIS KINGDOM, and all its passengers loyal peons who need their mighty rulers HELP, for without him they would PERISH.

for now though eda sees him and is immediately like get over here (reaching emoji)

Willow

willow is a tough one for me because in all honesty having your longtime friend tell you out of the blue that they can’t be friends with you anymore would be enough to send me packing to the train, but with willow i think it’s less about amity and more about how the fallout between them affects her social and academic success. the frustration reaches a tipping point that has her running out of the classroom and finding the train.

and yes, willow is a very sensible, bright girl, but she was also SO ready to trick the principle and steal from the emperor for her friend so i don’t think getting on a mystery train is wholly out of the question for her, y’know?

There’s a lot about repression in the way willow deals with things generally, so her number is tied to passivity. the more she allows others to infringe on her personal boundaries to keep them placated, the higher her number goes. when she stands up for herself to others (sometimes even her friends!) the number goes up. willow x agency and clear limitations is my otp

Gus

gus was actually a SUPER easy one for me we know so much about him from the episodes he’s been in; he’s an overachiever, he’s passionate about what he loves, he’s a natural showman, and he is constantly pushing himself to be the best that he can be, all the time. the hustle doesn’t STOP for gus, and i...i...(tears up)

anyways, i think the thing that draws him to the train is getting suddenly ousted from the club he formed at school. he’s young, and having everyone you had assumed were your friends turn their back on you and throw you out of the space that you CREATED FOR THEM would be shocking to anyone, but it broke gus’ heart clean in two. after he’d picked his bag and himself up off the hallway floor, he’d left the building in a daze, not even realizing as he boarded the train door that had suddenly opened up in front of him until it was too late.

i’m actually going to go so far as to say that gus would likely be the one MOST interested in the truth of the train- he’d be asking the tough questions, like what is the purpose of the train? who made it and its technology? where does it exist that it can be both at his school and also speeding across a barren desert landscape at the same time? How does it create sentient lifeforms? the train helps him discover a new passion; journalism. he finds a journal that speaks to him as a friend and advisor in one of the trains, and he takes careful note of everything that happens to and around him. by the time he meets up with willow, he’s got so many ideas and theories that the other girl would have never thought to consider until that very moment.

idk what his number relates to because he’s perfect the way he is but if i had to take a shot in the dark it probably has something to do with finding somewhere he feels he can belong, as well as being able to mourn and let go of the people he’d considered his friends before he’d gotten on the train.

sorry this is so long i just have a lot of . gus feelings.

Amity ( + Edric + Emira )

lumping these whites together

okay so nobody wants to hear me talk about blight angst there are 800 posts about blight angst, so long story short the three siblings run away, get into an argument with each other, amity ditches them for the train while they’re asleep, and the twins panic and chase after her, determined to find her because in the end they’re all they’ve got.

‘next stop: amity blight’

i think it’d be a cool journey to see the three of them going from ‘we need to be together out of necessity’ to ‘we need to be together because we love each other, and that genuine support structure will pull us through when everything else fails.’ but in order for that to happen they all have to have their own journey, so at some point edric and emira finally get into a spat and that’s enough to get edric and emira stuck on opposite ends of a retracting bridge. send that mans to the BACK of the train.

emira: my greatest fear is being stuck with edric forever emira: (gets separated from edric) emira: haha wait please say psyche

amity’s number is definitely tied to her fear of failure, of not being enough for the people she holds closest to her- in this case her siblings, and then lilith, and then luz when they finally meet. when she acts without concern for what the people around her think and when she sticks up for what she knows is right, even when the majority is against her, her number goes down.

for ed and em im...i don’t want to think about their feelings because they’re supposed to be clowns but i am forced to consider that they may be jealous of their sisters independence. also separating them means they both have to take responsibility for all their own actions and choices, which is probably pretty new for the twins.

Lilith

im out of energy actually znzzzsnsz uh. estranged sister who sees something that reminds her of the relationship she used to have and she’s not actually as over it as she thought so the train....she..hghrg

#toh #the owl house

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere That’s Green

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 3,220

Warnings: None

Jack’s always known his girlfriend was big in musical theater. He’s heard her practice, listened to her sing, and driven her to the theater more than once. But this is his first show of hers, and boy is he in for a shock. Between the on-stage kissing and the death of his girlfriend’s character, Jack Daniels has never been so invested in musical theater.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with missing work?” You asked, picking up your coat from Jack’s coat hook. “It’s a long show.”

Jack smiled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. “Darlin’ I wouldn’t miss this show for anything. I’ve been waiting two months to see this play.”

You grinned, kissing him slowly, almost teasing. “Just promise not to murder my costars, okay?”

“And just why would I be murdering your coworkers?” Jack asked, keeping his arm around your waist as he walked you out to the parking lot.

Stepping into the parking lot and following the familiar trail to Jack’s car, you took a breath. “The show gets kinda dark. My character is abused by her sadistic boyfriend.”

“Oh.” You could hear Jack’s jaw tightening, hesitation filling your chest as you thought over inviting him to the show. Again.

“Babe,” you said softly, trying to console him. “If you want, I can introduce you to my co-star Alex who plays the character. He’s a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t hurt a fly and y’know how Stevie is my best friend? Well, Alex is like the cool big brother I never had. He’d never even think about touching me. And he knows I’m totally off limits. Stevie does too.”

“Stevie’s the one who’s playing your nice fictional boyfriend?” Jack asked, opening the Bronco’s door and helping you up.

You laughed. “Yes. Stevie is the one who gets to kiss me on stage and his character isn’t a huge dick. Alex is my first fictional boyfriend, and Stevie and I get together halfway through the show. He gets to kiss me.”

Jack’s eyes darkened behind his sunglasses. “Does Alex kiss you?”

Reaching across the center console, you took Jack’s hand. “No. Alex does not get to kiss me.”

As Jack drove to the theater, you mulled over this decision. Since dating Jack, you’d done three musicals, but this one was your biggest and proudest role, as you’d finally managed to get the female lead in a musical after countless ensemble roles and smaller name characters.

“And what’s the show called again?” Jack asked, squeezing your hand.

You smiled, lifting his hand and pressing lazy kisses into his knuckles. “Little Shop of Horrors.”

Jack hummed, his face scrunching as he thought. “Ain’t that that movie with the crazed talking plant?”

“It was adapted from a musical,” you explained. “And then they redid the movie in the early 2000’s and put it back on Broadway.”

“Ah.” Jack turned to look at you as you pulled up to a red light. “I’m sure you’ll kill it. You got the voice of an angel.”

You smiled to yourself, the fate of your character entirely unknown to Jack. “I know I’ll kill it.”

Upon reaching the theater, you hopped out of the Bronco, looking at Jack. “Wanna meet Alex and Stevie? I think Yvette and Eva are here too, and I know for a fact Amber’s been here for an hour, at least.”

Jack shrugged. “Why not. I’ll go park, you go get your friends.”

You eagerly headed into the theater, practically jogging around as you looked for your costars.

“Eva!” You shouted happily, hugging Eva and seeing Amber around the corner. “Is Yvette here?”

“Nah,” Eva said, gesturing to the empty dressing room she shared with Yvette and Amber. “You know she always gets here at the last damn minute.”

“And she’s somehow always ready to go first,” Stevie said behind you, causing you to laugh and spin around to hug him. “Heya Auds!” He used the nickname he’d given you based on your character, causing you to punch him lightly.

“I want y’all to meet someone,” you said, walking towards the entrance, where you knew Jack was waiting. “Jack’s finally coming to see the show.”

“Ooooo,” Amber said, coming out of the costume closet. “We finally get to meet the mystery man!”

You waved them off, looking around for your final costar. “Where’s Alex? He didn’t call in tonight, did he?”

“Of course not,” Eva scoffed, drawing her coat closer around her. “He doesn’t call in unless he’s like, bleeding out.”

Laughing, you pushed open the door, seeing Jack leaning against the Bronco. “Jack!”

Jack drew closer, smiling and looking at your friends. “Alright. Who’s who?”

You introduced everyone, the chatter flowing easily until someone came up behind you, lifting you off your feet with a happy growl. “There’s my girl!”

“Alex!” You squealed, squirming and laughing. “Alex you absolute fuck! Put me down before Jack murders you!”

Alex put you down, grinning and holding out a hand to a very shocked Jack. “So you’re the mystery man our darling has been swooning over for the past three years. Nice to meet you.”

Jack shook his hand. “Their darling?” He asked you as you stood by his side.

“That’s what they always call the female lead,” you explained, tucking yourself under Jack’s arm. “Alex, Jack has promised not to kill you upon seeing the show, which is a damn relief because I don’t think we can do next year’s show without you.”

“What’s next year's show?” Jack asked, looking at you.

You shrugged. “I heard from the director that they were seriously considering School of Rock.”

Alex whistled. “Auds, that’s been a rumor for years now. They aren’t gonna do it.”

“Okay Dewey,” you said jokingly, reaching out to give Alex a light punch. “You wanna talk about people who were born to play certain roles? Alex is a spitting image of Broadway’s Dewey Finn,” you explained to Jack, who had gotten very lost very fast. “We’re all just waiting.”

“Oh, so you wanna talk about that, huh?” Stevie said, raising an eyebrow. “I swear that voice of yours is identical to Audrey’s.”

You flushed, checking your watch and looking up. “An hour,” you explained, extracting yourself from under Jack’s arm and heading back to the theater’s entrance. “I’ll see you after babe!”

Jack grabbed your hand, kissing you deeply and nipping ever so slightly at your earlobe as he murmured a teasing “break a leg darling,” into your ear.

“I like him,” Alex said, coming up behind you and smiling. “He’s good for you.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing Alex’s white jacket out of the costume closet and handing it to him. “Go get dressed, dork. We can talk about my boyfriend later.”

Alex shrugged. “Just saying. You have my blessing.”

“I don’t need your blessing!” You called after him, seeing him disappear into his dressing room. “And where’s Jake?”

“Where he always is!”

You sighed, heading to your own dressing room and sitting down, beginning the long yet calming process of caking your face in stage makeup. It took forever and made your face feel heavy, but the results were worth it.

Eventually, by the half hour call, you were ready, having pretty much cemented your hair into beautifully picturesque curls and shimmied into the tight cheetah print dress that barely covered the tops of your thighs. Thank god you were able to wear tights.

You tossed a fluffy cream colored faux fur cropped jacket overtop your dress and adjusted your black heels. With your makeup and your sufficiently warmed up voice, you were entirely ready for the night.

Picking up a picture frame, you gave the glossy photo of Jack a kiss, slipping a worn out penny he’d given you when he’d first heard you did theater into your bra. It was a symbol of luck, and the magic would hopefully continue into tonight.

“Knock knock,” Alex said, knocking on your doorframe. “How’s the princess?”

“Good,” you said, raising your voice to get the perfect breathy innocence that was needed for the role. “How much time?”

Alex checked his watch. “Ten. I think the girls are on stage already, and Jake’s having his fun on the beams. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Just nervous,” you mumbled, fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. “I dunno what Jack’ll think.”

“Does he know the ending?”

“No.”

Alex whistled in a breath. “Damn. Ten bucks says he cries.”

You scoffed, slipping past Alex and smiling, your heels clicking on the worn out flooring. “Twenty!”

The opening of the show, as was the rest of it by now, was a familiar chaos to you. The fanfare that signaled the beginning spurred you and Alex to your places, tucked just outside of view but still able to see the show.

The ensemble and the girls rushed past, filling the stage and giving life to the purposefully worn down set. You craned yourself neck, heart swelling when you saw Jack, his hat off, sitting in the front row.

“Front row, fifth seat in, stage left,” you whispered to Alex, who nodded, spotting your boyfriend as well.

Stevie joined you at that moment, grinning as Alex told him where Jack was sitting. “He got a good seat, huh?” He said with a wink, sliding past you to take his place on stage.

As the second song started up, you adjusted yourself, tugging on your dress and asking Alex for help with your mic.

“Break a leg,” he said, watching you rush behind the set to the section that was your fake apartment.

At the cue, you opened the door, slipping out and beginning to sing. It was easy to lose yourself in the role now that everyone else was singing too. Stevie came out, singing his part as you sat weaved in and out of the ensemble members, climbing up a ladder to a fire escape on one of the building fronts. Leaning on the railing, you sang along with Stevie, spotting Jack beyond the stage lights and grinning as you finished out the song.

The next four songs went smoothly. You left the stage after the next one, when Stevie got his first solo song. Standing next to Alex, you checked your phone.

Jack: You’re amazing doll. Love the dress.

You smiled, slipping your phone back into your pocket. Stevie was, as usual, doing great on stage. Everything was running perfectly.

While the songs you weren’t really in ran in the background, you helped prepare the other sets. The apartment set you were about to use was ready to go by the time your first big song was about to start, and you walked back out on stage, reciting lines you’d memorized months ago. As the set turned, revealing the inside of the apartment, you began to sing.

The song was a nice one. Maybe a bit of strain on your voice as you pitched it upwards, but otherwise easy to sing. You poured a certain mournfulness into it, taking your jacket off and hanging it on the coat hook.

Every so often, you’d see Jack out of the corner of your eye, grinning like a lovesick fool at you. When the stage rotated again, showing you leaning out the small balcony, singing about your character’s dreams for a brighter future, you watched Jack carefully. His eyes never left you, winking when he realized you were watching him.

The song ended, the audience clapping as you slipped out, grabbing your coat on the way.

One quick change and bit of makeup adjusting later, you were cycling through another song. Nerves began to bundle in your stomach as the introduction of Alex’s character drew closer. You always drew a few gasps when he roughed you up, but it never made you this nervous.

Thankfully, it was a short scene, as the focus shifted to the introduction. His touch was always professional and careful, never actually harming you. You slipped off stage as his character began his song, settling down on a beat up old couch and loosening your shoes. You didn’t have to be on stage for a while, so you half listened to Alex and half focused on checking your phone. No texts from Jack.

“Hey hon.” Alex flopped onto the couch next to you, shocking you a bit. “C’mon.”

You quickly tighten your shoes, standing and taking Alex’s hand as he tugged you towards the stage for another small scene that you knew would make Jack’s jaw clench.

The scene was, yet again, not harmful. You moved in perfect tandem with Alex so neither of you got hurt, stumbling a bit as you walked off stage after only two minutes.

“You okay?” Alex asked, steadying you and checking your wrists where he’d grabbed you.

“Yep.”

“Everything good up in here?” He asked, knocking gently on your temple.

You smiled. “Haven’t been this nervous about a show in, gosh I don’t even know.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Alex promised, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sure he’d love it even if it all went to shit.”

You nodded, tightly hugging Alex back. “Yeah. He would.”

You two got ready for your final scene together, the one where he ‘hit’ you. The slap had been practiced until it was instinct, until it was a guarantee Alex’s hand would never even touch your face.

Watching the stage and slowly moving behind the set pieces, you bopped a bit to the song, looking up and seeing Jake having the absolute time of his life above your head, singing for the plant.

“Ready?” Alex asked, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, hearing the cue and starting your nervous babbling conversation with a shouting Alex, stumbling through the door and smiling at Stevie. “Hey Seymour! I left my sweater here before.”

Immediately, Alex followed you, still shouting. You couldn’t see Jack’s reaction when he called you a slut, or when he slapped you, your pitiful voice breaking as you and Alex headed off stage.

As soon as you were out of sight, Alex hugged you, murmuring the apology he always gave after that scene and heading off to act his death.

It was a favorite scene of yours, and you watched as Alex ‘died,’ unable to leave the scene until the lights went dark and he hurried off, Stevie taking a bag of fake limbs and grinning to you as the lights rose and he headed back out.

During intermission, you left the couch, allowing the girls to collapse into the frankly disgusting crease. Instead, you curled up in the oddest place that shouldn’t have been comfortable, the antique dentist’s chair from Alex’s scenes.

Which was where he found you, settled into the leather and adjusting your makeup. You were humming along to some music playing out your phone, carefully wiping away your black eye and touching up your foundation. “Good job. You absolutely murdered it.”

Alex smiled. “Thank you. Still nervous?”

“Nah.” You closed your makeup bag, spinning the chair lazily. “No more than usual now.”

You two just hung out, as usual, until the signaling music began to play. You shook yourself out, standing and smiling. “Halfway there!”

Alex laughed and took your place, grabbing a book.

You were significantly more involved in the second act, breezing through the first few songs, feeling an uncomfortable tingle of guilt in your stomach as you and Stevie kissed during the second song. It was an emotional scene that was immediately followed up by a murder. Not your murder. You weren’t set to die until later.

Of course, your next big scene was your death. You ran over the process in your head, just in case. Stevie would throw you into the giant plant puppet, and you’d slide past Jordan, who was the puppeteer inside, and out through a hole so you didn’t have to sit inside the cramped puppet.

However, you had to die first in probably the most heart wrenching scene in the play.

You walked out as Stevie walked in, alone on the stage aside from the plant. Sitting on the couch in your fake apartment, you began to sing, wandering over to the florist’s shop set and talking to Jake, who was still sitting above your head.

And then it all went to shit.

Jordan, inside the puppet, grabbed you with a vine, tugging you close as the song finished out, and you fake struggled as he pretended to eat you, the voice and the body working in perfect tandem as you got deep enough and struggled enough to open a buttoned up tear in your dress, smearing fake blood all over and making it truly seem like you’d been bitten, all without the audience knowing.

Stevie pulled you out, revealing the wound to the audience. He carefully set you down, going through the musical motions as you poured everything you had left into your final few minutes on stage. Your voice broke, the gentleness fading slowly as you did your best to imitate someone who was dying, actually starting to cry with your last line.

When the music swelled, Stevie wiped your tears and lifted you, slowly and gently placing you in the plant puppet and allowing Jordan to grab you and pull you in, helping you down and out the other side. Immediately, Alex helped you up, handing you a change of clothes and a pack of wet wipes. It was easy to remove the blood and toss the stained dress into the wash as soon as it was off. By the time the last plot important song was over, you were completely ready for the finale.

You were unable to spot Jack as you and Alex walked out together, singing one final time for the night and taking your bows. It was a giant group number, everyone happy and very much not dead. Jake came down, singing and throwing an arm over you and over Stevie, dragging you two forward to take the first bow.

Amidst the clapping and the people leaving and the actors heading off stage, you didn’t see Jack until he met you and Alex at the Bronco.

He scooped you up, laughing and firmly kissing you. “Holy shit babe! You couldn’t’ve told me that would happen at the end?”

You laughed, wiping tears off Jack’s face. “Alex! He’s crying!”

“Well fuck.” Alex leaned against the car, smiling. “Guess I owe you.”

Jack put you down, still holding you tight. “Y’all did good. I almost got up to smack you halfway through the show.”

You rolled your eyes, squeezing Jack’s hand. “I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” Jack said, opening the Bronco’s door and helping you up. “Pleasure to meet you Alex.”

“Same,” Alex said, stepping back. “You be good to our girl, you hear?”

Jack snorted. “I will.”

The drive home was quiet. Now that the adrenaline of the show was gone, you felt limp, every part of your body in pain. Jack, the ever sweet and loving boyfriend, carried you inside, setting you down on the bathroom counter and grabbing your makeup wipes for you.

“Anything else?” He asked once you were done, cuddled up in your favorite pyjamas.

“Well,” you hummed, getting down and heading over to the bed. “I seem to be missing my boyfriend. C’mere.”

Jack, now eager, took his shirt off and crawled into the bed next to you, pulling you close. “You were amazing tonight, truly.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, already falling asleep.

“You’re welcome.” Jack shuffled so you’d be more comfortable, stroking softly up and down your back as you fell asleep properly, safe with the knowledge that Jack’s first musical theater experience had been a good one.

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years ago

Text

I used to be seventeen.

Character: Steve Rogers x Tall!Reader – High School AU

Summary: Steve Rogers doesn’t think fondly of his teenage years. Well, there was one thing he did remember fondly – or, more specifically, one person.

Word Count: 4,300 - One Shot

Warnings: Bullying, homophobic themes

Steve always hated coming back home. Yes, he loved seeing his mom and friends. But even the glamour of the holiday glow couldn’t get rid of the bitterness Steve held for his hometown.

He didn’t know how Bucky convinced him to meet him at the one of the town’s few bars. But there he was, walking into the divey establishment. To be fair, it did feel cozy with all the wood and the hundreds of Christmas lights that probably had nothing to do with the holiday season.

Steve was grateful when he spotted Bucky at the bar, not wanting to be the first to arrive.

Before he made it to Bucky, he felt someone jump on his back in an involuntary piggyback.

“Who could this possibly be?” Steve joked when he heard the giggle in his ear.

They jumped down, and he turned to find Rebecca Barnes smiling up at him.

“Stevie! I haven’t seen you since last Christmas! What the fuck?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I believe Bucky and I have both invited you to New York multiple times.”

“I know. I know. It’s just hard getting enough days off of work to make the trip from San Francisco worth it.”

“I hear ya,” Steve said as he pulled her in for a proper hug.

They both made their way to Bucky and ordered some drinks.

Bucky and Steve had both lived in New York City after college.

Steve had gone to SAIC in Chicago for art school. Bucky had gone to Columbia for engineering.

They both hated the 4 years where they were apart. Bucky told Steve that he would love New York City and convinced him to move into a place in Brooklyn together after college graduation.

Bucky enjoyed going home to their small town. It didn’t hold the bad memories for him like it did for Steve. It was all healthy nostalgia and a place of comfort to him. He had been popular, a jock. Even though he was smart and nice to everyone, he was a golden boy at their high school.

Why Bucky ever befriended him was still a mystery to Steve.

Steve’s high school experience was rather different. His puberty was delayed. He was short and scrawny. He preferred the arts over sports. He was on the shyer side. All of these things mixed together apparently made him an easy target for the bullies. Not even his friendship with Bucky Barnes could save him.

It hadn’t usually happened in front of Bucky. And if it did, he stopped it countless times. But no matter how hard he tried, Bucky couldn’t put a stop to the bullying completely nor could he be Steve’s full-time body guard.

That time was past Steve now.

But he still hated coming “home.” Besides his mom, there was nothing left for him in this stupid town. The only people he stayed in contact with from that time were Bucky and Rebecca, and he lived with Bucky now.

“We’re doing tequila shots!” Rebecca cried out.

“Dear God, Becs. Calm down,” Bucky groaned.

“Nope! The three of us haven’t been together in forever. We must get properly wasted. Tis the law.”

Bucky gave Steve a look and just shrugged with a smile. It wasn’t like they had to work tomorrow. It was Christmas Eve and they were technically both on vacation for the holidays for the whole week.

An hour later, Steve was happily buzzed. Rebecca was talking to friends she had kept in touch with after high school. Steve and Bucky kept to themselves. Every so often someone would come over and say hi to Bucky.

No one said hi to Steve.

He couldn’t figure out if it was because they didn’t care to or because they legitimately didn’t recognize him.

Steve was a different person since high school. He finally had his growth spurt during his freshman year of college, now standing at 6’1. And it seemed his body decided to actually hold a few pounds instead of keeping his frame stick thin. On top of that, Steve started taking his health to a new level. Bucky would tease him that he looked more like he was a Big 10 football player than an art student. The beard probably didn’t help his past peers from recognizing him either.

Bucky was in the middle of telling Steve about his most recent date when the bells chimed, signaling a new person entering the bar.

Steve did a double take when he instantly recognized her.

He swore his heart dropped to his stomach.

Bucky caught his friends expression and how he was staring over his shoulder. He quickly turned around to see what Steve was gawking at.

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

Steve would never forget her name, even with his passionate efforts to forget all of high school.

There was a cry of cheers from a group of girls at her arrival. Steve recognized them as her friends from back in the day. They were some of the few people that hadn’t harassed him. They seemed to pity him…just like she had.

Y/N looked amazing.

She stood out for multiple reasons. The first being her height. But Steve noticed she wasn’t slouching like she had in high school, always trying to make herself appear smaller and getting down to everyone else’s level. Now her shoulders were back and her head was held high. Then he noticed the heeled booties. She had never even considered wearing heels when she was in high school. Now she wore them proudly.

The second reason was her clothes. They were far too stylish for their small, close-minded town. But she didn’t seem to notice the second glances or the judgmental looks.

The final reason was because she was beautiful. At least, Steve had always thought so. Turned out, even after 10 years, Steve’s heart still beat a little faster when he saw her.

“You’re staring,” Bucky pointed out.

Steve cleared his throat and forced himself to look away from Y/N as she hugged all of her friends and had a beaming smile.

“Shut up,” he muttered as he took a big gulp of his drink.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” Bucky asked with a mischievous smirk.

“As if she’d even remember me…” Steve mumbled.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Bucky didn’t push him more and kept talking.

But Steve was thrust back into memories he hadn’t repressed for quite some time. But seeing Y/N just thrust them to the forefront of his mind.

———————

Steve was struggling to put all his sketches back in his folder as he rushed through the halls. There were just a few finishing touches that needed to be made on one of them when the bell rang. Now he was going to be late to his next class.

He was about to turn the corner when someone slammed his books and folders out of his grasp. His jaw dropped as he saw dozens of his loose sketches go flying around the hall.

He looked up to see his assailant.

Brock Rumlow.

Next to him was his best friend, Jack Rollins, and a few of the other guys on the football team.

Steve ignored them and crouched down to pick up the papers, taking the higher ground for once. He wasn’t in the mood and he didn’t want to get another tardy. Nor did he want to get another detention for fighting.

But Brock wasn’t letting him go so easily. He crouched down and picked up a drawing. It just happened to be one of Bucky. Steve had asked him to sit for him a couple of weekends to practice his portrait drawing skills.

“Fucking Christ! You really are in love with him. I don’t understand why Barnes lets your gay ass hang out with him,” Brock growled before ripping the drawing into pieces.

Then he picked up another one, it was of a woman. But just her lips and down to her clavicle. Steve prayed Brock wouldn’t recognize who it was based off of. He should, if his crush on Y/N was as strong as he pretended it was. In Brock’s mind, she belonged to him despite her never reciprocating the feelings.

Steve didn’t want that one to get ripped up.

He lunged forward, trying to grab it from Brock’s grasp.

This was exactly what Brock wanted. He picked on people he knew he could beat to make himself feel strong.

Before Steve could even tackle Brock to the ground, he pushed Steve to the ground so hard that Steve’s head slammed back onto the hard tile, even blinding his vision for a moment.

“Is that a fucking joke, Rogers?” Brock laughed at him

Then he reached for Steve’s collar and pulled him onto his feet again.

“You really think you could even land a hit on me?” Brock whispered. He raised his hand to hit him, most likely in the gut. Brock seemed to like watching Steve keel over in pain.

“Brock!” A voice screamed from behind Steve. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve stopped breathing when he recognized the voice.

Y/N.

“What?” Brock asked innocently and immediately let Steve go.

“I saw what you did,” Y/N accused, making sure to put herself between Steve and him.

“He was asking for it,” Brock shrugged. “He was walking to class, asshole.” She glared at him. “Just because your shit got rocked on the football field last game doesn’t mean you can just take out your embarrassment and anger on another person.”

“Whatever,” Brock rolled his eyes and then walked away with his friends. But he gave Steve a final glare that said, ‘You’re lucky this time.’

Y/N finally turned to look at Steve. “Are you OK? I saw how hard he shoved you.”

“I-I’m fine,” Steve stuttered.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should go to the nurse. I really think you could have a concussion.”

But Steve just shook his head.

Y/N sighed but didn’t continue arguing. Instead, she started helping him pick up all his papers.

“You’re really good at drawing,” she said as she looked at a portrait of his mom before handing it to him.

Steve blushed. “Thanks.”

The bell interrupted them.

“Shit,” Steve cursed under his breath. “I’m gonna be late again.”

“What class are you going to?” She asked.

“Math.”

She bit her lip. “With Foster?”

He nodded.

“I’ll walk you there.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed one of his folders, the one with all of the drawings and started walking towards Mr. Foster’s classroom.

The class had already started when they walked in.

Steve’s cheeks blushed once again as all eyes in the classroom went to him and Y/N.

“Y/N, what brings you here?” Mr. Foster asked pleasantly instead of reprimanding Steve for being late once again.

“I ran into Steve in the hallway – literally. I made a mess of his papers and was just helping him pick them up.”

Steve watched as she gave him a shy smile and played up her guilt.

“Well, that was nice of you,” Mr. Foster said.

Steve went to his seat before he could remind his teacher that he wasn’t on time. He looked up at the doorway to give Y/N a thankful look, but she had already disappeared and the door was slowly closing.

And that wasn’t the last time she saved him from bullies.

The next time was a month or so later. It wasn’t Brock that time. He’d learned not to pick on people while Y/N was present. He knew he’d never gain her affections that way.

This time it was one of his lackeys.

“Hey, Rogers? Can’t find any clothes that fit you properly?”

Steve ignored him.

“Have you tried looking in the little boys section? Maybe try Babies R Us!”

That didn’t make Steve turn around. What made him turn around was the sound of someone being shoved into the lockers.

Steve whipped around, fully expecting Bucky to be his savior.

Instead it was Y/N, who had her forearm crammed against his bully’s throat. Y/N was towering over him. She was taller than most of the boys in their school. But somehow no one picked on her for it.

“What the hell?” The kid said, struggling to say words with the pressure on his throat.

“I hear you pick on him again and I’ll make sure the whole school sees me kick you in the dick,” she told him.

Steve was stunned, convincing himself he was imagining all of it.

But the kid nodded his head.

Y/N knew none of the guys would ever hit a girl. Even if they wanted to, she was taller and probably stronger than most of them. So she used that privilege to her advantage.

She let him go. A group of her girlfriends laughed at the bully as she returned to them. Before she disappeared down the hall, she gave Steve a small, reassuring smile.

Steve wondered if she felt the same way about being tall as he felt about being short. Maybe that’s why she felt the need to defend him.

But Y/N’s attention toward him didn’t stop there.

Steve wouldn’t consider them friends. But Y/N did acknowledge him at school quite frequently. If she managed to meet his gaze, she’d give him a little smile and maybe a wave.

When Bucky caught on, Steve waited for him to tease him about it, since Bucky could tell Steve’s crush immediately. But he gave Steve his space and they never really fully talked about it. It was just known from then on.

————

Steve’s mind raced through all his memories like flashes. But then it seemed to settle on the last time he ever talked to Y/N.

————

It was the night of prom.

But Steve wasn’t there.

Bucky begged him to tag along with him and his date. But Steve knew Dot would not be fond of that, despite her forcing a smile and nodding when Bucky recommended it.

So Steve decided to go to a coffee shop. It was one of the few places he liked in their stupid town. It was open late and had plenty of space. Every once in awhile, he’d go there to just sketch or read. It was just an excuse to get out of the house and go somewhere.

Now he sat at in his usual corner that had good lighting and a bigger table, which was good for drawing.

Steve was listening to music, drinking coffee, and sketching away.

But for some reason, a new patron coming in made him look up.

He did a double take when he recognized Y/N.

She walked in and looked a bit like a tomboy. She was wearing boyfriend jeans, a graphic tee, a baseball hat, and a zip-up with the hoodie pulled up. Yet Steve recognized her immediately.

He tried not to stare, but definitely wasn’t successful. He watched as she ordered a latte and two chocolate chip cookies.

Why wasn’t she at prom?

She turned and her eyes were going around the coffee shop, trying to find a table she wanted. That was when she spotted Steve.

With her latte and cookies in hand, she slowly made her way to Steve.

“Hey,” she said quietly with a smile, as if not to disturb the few other customers.

“Hi,” he responded.

For the first time, he didn’t feel ridiculously nervous talking to her.

“Do you mind if I sit for a bit?” She asked.

Steve was shocked.

“You can say no. I won’t be offended,” she laughed.

“N-No, of course. Please, sit.”

She smiled and sat down.

“Shouldn’t you…uhh…be at prom?” Steve asked shyly.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh. “Well… no one asked me.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. That seemed impossible. “That can’t be true.”

She rolled her eyes will a smile. “Think about it, Steve. Yeah, I have some guy friends I could’ve gone with…but they all have girlfriends.” She took a sip of her latte. “It’s fine. I don’t really like dances. I only really like the whole dressing up part.”

Then she looked down at her tomboy outfit and started laughing. “Not that you would know by how I’m dressed right now. I look like a little boy.”

Steve smiled. “No, you don’t. You always look beautiful.”

Y/N sat up straighter, completely taken by surprised from his compliment. Steve shifted in his seat and dipped his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” she replied with a grin.

He let out a sigh.

“So, why aren’t you at prom?” She countered.

“Ummm…doubt anyone would’ve said yes if I had asked,” he mumbled.

Y/N squinted at him.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You do realize that you’re like the sweetest guy in our grade, right? I know so many girls who didn’t get asked that would’ve loved to have gone. And they would’ve been more than happy to have gone with you, too.”

Steve blushed. “Whatever you say.”

Y/N then looked around them shyly. “Do you mind if I just stay here and read my book? I won’t bother you. You can just keep drawing.” Then she smiled at him. “Again… you can say no and I won’t be offended.”

“No, no, no,” Steve quickly said. Then he winced. “I mean, ‘no, I’m not going to tell you no.’ Not ‘no to your offer.’”

Y/N smirked at his fumbling.

So the two of them sat together in a comfortable silence. Y/N read her book and Steve continued his drawing.

He wanted to ask her a million things. He wanted to get to know her. The real her, not the the person everyone at school thought she was. But this – this whole just appreciating each other’s quiet presence was nice too. Steve didn’t know how to explain it, but it made him think it was more meaningful than asking her a million questions.

At one point, she pushed her plate toward him, silently offering him her other cookie.

That was the last time Steve talked to her.

He saw her at graduation, but they were never close enough for any sort of interaction. She was surrounded by her friends and family. He was just with his mom and the Barnes family.

————

And that was it.

They both went off to college and Steve never saw her again.

Until tonight.

The bar got a bit more crowded. But Bucky, Rebecca, and Steve stayed in their little area. Every so often, Rebecca and Bucky would get pulled into other groups of old friends, but they’d always find their way back. Steve didn’t mind.

It was towards the end of the night when Steve went to the bar to get another round of drinks for them. He was very happily buzzed. The miserable feeling of being back in his childhood town was just a bit weaker – for the time being.

“I don’t know why I expected you to come over and say hi. You always were so shy.” A voice said beside him.

Steve quickly turned to find Y/N leaning on the bar waiting for his attention.

“Hi,” was all he managed to blurt out.

“Hi,” she laughed. “I gotta be honest: I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Her eyes went up and down, taking in his tall frame. She used to tower over him. Now, even with her heels on, he was just a tad bit taller than him.

He chuckled awkwardly, never knowing what to say when people noted how much he’d physically changed.

“Can I make up for it by buying you a drink?”

She smirked and nodded. “You may.”

They chatted for a bit, friendly banter. Before Steve could use Rebecca and Bucky’s drinks as an excuse to leave the conversation, Becca practically came skipping over to take them away and return to her brother. She gave Steve a look that said, ‘Don’t you dare try to leave this conversation, idiot.’

“So what are you doing now? Where do you even live?” She asked Steve.

“New York. I’m an artist,” he decided to keep it generic.

“No way. I live in New York, too.”

Steve paused. “No shit? I’m in Brooklyn – Williamsburg, actually.”

“Ahh… Well, that would explain why we’ve never run into each other. I’m in Nolita.”

“So trendy,” Steve teased. “Though, I’m not surprised.” Then he gestured towards her outfit.

She acted offended. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You were always stylish. Nolita suits you. It’s a compliment, I promise. What do you do for work?”

She hesitated for a second. “I’m a stylist.”

“No shit,” Steve said in awe. “Like celebrities or…?”

“Yeah, a lot of celebrities, actually. They’re pretty much all of my clientele.”

“I’m sure you’ve got some crazy stories,” he pointed out.

She laughed and shrugged.

“You seeing anyone?” Steve asked then. “In New York, I mean.”

It didn’t feel awkward or forced, just like it was the natural next step in their conversation.

Y/N winced slightly and sighed. She didn’t look him in the eye. “Being a tall, successful, and independent woman doesn’t exactly have men lining up in New York City…”

Before Steve could say anything, Y/N laughed. “It’s like prom all over again,” she joked.

But he wasn’t laughing exactly. “Well then, I think the same thing I did that night at the coffee shop.”

She tilted her head. “And what’s that?”

“Men are fucking idiots. All of them.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Even you?”

“Oh, me more than any of them.”

“What! Why would you say that?”

Then his laughter died down and he took a sip of his drink, a little liquid courage. “Because…if I had known no one had asked you to prom, I would’ve taken you – in a fucking heartbeat.”

“You didn’t know,” she pointed out in a sigh. “But you did know so many other girls who didn’t have dates.”

He shook his head. “They weren’t who I wanted to go with.”

Her smile dropped ever so slightly, catching on to what he was trying to say.

Y/N cleared her throat. “We probably shouldn’t live in the past. It’s not like it would do us any good.”

“But I’m the same person,” Steve challenged suddenly.

She looked at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. “You’ve probably changed more than anyone we went to high school. I mean, look at you!”

Y/N grabbed her coat and Steve stood up without thinking and helped her back into it. The gesture seemed to catch her off guard.

Then they realized how close they were standing to each other because of it.

“You didn’t ask me,” Steve said quietly.

Her eyes flickered from his eyes down to his lips without meaning to. “Ask you what?”

“If I was seeing anyone…”

She sort of scoffed at the idea. “I’m sure you’re seeing many people, Steve.”

“That’s not even remotely accurate,” he chuckled lowly.

Her eyes softened then. “You’re one of the good guys, Steve Rogers. And sadly, the older I get, the more I realize how few of you there really are in the world.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that.

A beat passed between them. It was filled with opportunity. Make a move, a part of his head was screaming at him. No, don’t be an idiot, was the other part.

And then the moment passed just as quickly as it arrived. And Steve missed his chance.

“Well, it was really nice seeing you again,” she told him.

“You too, Y/N.” He blinked. “Here, let me get you an car home.”

“Oh, you don’t–”

“If I hadn’t been drinking, I’d drive you myself,” he cut her off before she could actually argue.

5 minutes later, he was closing the passenger door for her and he watched the car drive away.

When he walked back into the bar, Bucky and Rebecca were giving him a sympathetic look. They already knew he let her go without trying. Because they knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

“Don’t,” he warned them both.

“I think…we should do another round of tequila shots!” Rebecca announced.

“Fine. But then we’re going home before I have to carry you back home over my shoulder,” Bucky warned his little sister.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever,” she shooed as she went to the bar.

Steve was quiet for the rest of the night, thinking about everything Y/N and him had said to each other that night.

---------------

Steve woke up the next morning with the worst headache of his life. That’s what he got for drinking the world’s cheapest alcohol.

When he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, he noticed he had a text from a number that wasn’t in his phonebook.

He opened it to read: “Barnes told me to text you so you didn’t ‘make the same mistake twice.’”

Steve swore his heart stopped. There was no one else it could be .

With a smile, he texted back, “I’m gonna beat that punk up later.”

To his surprise, she texted back right away. “So, are you saying he was wrong to give me your number?”

Steve thought for a moment. “No, he was definitely right to do so. Apparently, I’m incapable of doing anything for myself.” He hesitated. Enough of being safe and careful. Might as well go for it. “As soon as I closed that car door, I regretted not asking for your number.”

“You know...we don’t have to just be people from each other’s past.”

“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

“Nothing.”

Steve smiled. “Well, that’s not the case anymore. I’ll see you in NYC, Y/N.”

-----------------

So, a lot of the reader was basically me in high school and a lot of it was not. I’ll let you guys figure that out for yourself.

Let me know what you thought of it!

Oh the title was inspired by “Seventeen” by Sharon Van Etten.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x tall!reader #tall reader insert #steve rogers x tall!fem!reader #steve rogers x tall girl #steve rogers high school au #marvel high school au #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers reader insert #I used to be seventeen #I used to be seventeen - one shot #marvel tall reader insert

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philliamwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

“Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

“Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

“Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

“That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

“A μ.”

“No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

The whole room goes silent.

Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

“They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

“And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

“Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

“Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

“Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

“I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

“You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #andrew x neil #neil x andrew #andrew/neil #neil/andrew

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voltage-vixen · 4 years ago

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The Great Pumpkin Surprise

Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder Pairing: Eisuke x MC (Female) Notes: This fic was written for the server gift exchange in the Kings of Paradise discord, and my recipient was @eikouxd. I really hope you like this!

The gentle breeze was chilly on the crisp fall afternoon, and there was a bright mixture of orangish-red leaves that painted the ground. Decorative ghosts hung from the stripped trees in preparation for Halloween since the spooky holiday was nearly upon them. Today, MC had convinced her family to travel outside the bounds of the city to visit a farm known for their festive autumn attractions. Eito was quick to agree, and her husband Eisuke voiced how amusing this trip would probably be for him if he did accompany them.

A few hours later they were deep into one of the rural suburbs, with a smirking Eisuke and a giddy MC bearing witness of a rare moment where Eito was racing around the farm and acting like a child his age would be expected to act. MC typically would fret over Eito being in such a rush to grow up, but today watching him radiate in childlike innocence while he lit up at the sights warmed her heart. It wasn’t often the three of them were able to escape from their daily routine given the demands of Eisuke’s work schedule, and these occasions were something she treasured when they presented themselves. Well, the three of them and…..

“Eito, come take a look at this gourd!” Ota cried out, holding up the large disfigured fruit for the boy to see. “Doesn’t it remind you of Baba’s face?”“Ota!”

Baba pouted, feigning annoyance by dramatically crossing his arms over the front of his chest. “How cruel of you! I hardly look a day over twenty! I’m sure everyone here would feel inclined to agree.” Glancing around, the thief’s gaze locked onto Soryu’s, who also happened to be standing nearby. “Sor, don’t you think I have an eternally youthful looking face?”

The mobster rolled his eyes and uttered a loud sigh for once again being dragged into the childish antics of the group. “I don’t know anything about that stuff. Stop trying to get me involved in your shenanigans.”

“You’re pretty uptight for a criminal, aren’t you now?” Mamoru muttered under his breath. Lighting his cigarette, he surveyed the food and beverage stalls up by the entrance. “Do they sell booze at this joint? I need something to help me get through this day that I was coerced into spending with you lot.”

“Ugh, must you really insist on smoking that here?” Shuichi scolded, massaging his temples at the headache he felt oncoming. Seeing Luke nearby, he barked at the spaced-out doctor next to him. “Luke, you’re a medical professional. Inform him at once how neglectful of his health he’s being by smoking those like a chimney.”

“Oh, how I do despise the colder weather,” Luke groaned, ignoring the nagging ambassador. “I can’t even sneak a peek at Sexybones’s exquisite collar bones when she’s wearing this many layers of clothing.”

“Don’t be weird, Luke,” Hikaru murmured, shaking his head over the doctor’s odd obsession. Wanting to ease some of the innocent tension among the bidders, Hikaru decided it would be best to change the subject. “Hey, I promised Maddy I would bring him back some souvenirs. Why don’t we all pick out some together as a group? I bet Maddy would really appreciate that.”

“Good idea, Hikaru!” Baba cheered, immediately beginning to assist Hikaru in ushering the grumbling guys over to the souvenir shop. “Hurry up, everyone! Time’s a wasting!”

Yup, you guessed it! Somewhere along the way, what was intended to be a family trip, somehow escalated into the Ichinomiya family + the auction managers = chaotic group outing.

Despite the crashers, Eito who had been wandering through the patch in search for the perfect pumpkin, spun around and burst into laughter at the familiar sight of the men he considered uncles causing the same old commotion he had grown to associate them with.

“Remind me why they are here again?” Eisuke scowled, though there was a softness in his face that didn’t align with the harshness of his words while he watched the group disappear into the front of the stop.

“Because they’re our friends,” MC giggled, while she rested her head onto his arm. “Besides, look how much fun Eito is having! Isn’t that what matters the most?”

Eisuke leaned over to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, and tenderly stroked her cheek. “That face you’re making now isn’t the worst,” the CEO teasingly mocked. “I suppose a trip like this isn’t half-bad if it means I get to see more of that ridiculous grin you’re wearing.”

“I can’t help the fact that spending time with you two reminds me of how blessed I am,” MC sighed, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. “These moments are precious. They’re the ones I’ll forever cherish from now until the end of my time.”

Eisuke’s heart skipped a beat at the adorableness of MC’s confession, and a rare shade of crimson faintly painted his cheeks. His past self would never have been able to envision that someone like him would ever be fortunate enough to be experiencing his very own version of family bliss. Yet here he stood today as a husband and a father. He used to believe success was measured by one’s professional accomplishments. While the value of business metrics was still one of importance, Eisuke now also factored in the prosperity and good fortune he was privileged to be immersed in from MC and Eito.

“Always honest to a fault,” Eisuke retorted, trusting MC failed to notice his blush. “That’s a quality that deserves a reward, and I don’t intend on making you wait for reimbursement any longer. Come here, baby.”

Reaching around behind MC, Eisuke placed his hand on her back. Pulling her into his embrace, MC’s body stiffened in a bashfulness from how intimately they were standing in public. The familiar masculine scent of his cologne radiated from his body as her husband wiggled MC even more snugly against him. Eisuke’s hot breath tickled the front of her neck, and his expression softened as he cupped her chin, and MC’s nerves instantly melted away. She wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to kiss him now. Rising on her tip toes, MC inched closer, drawing herself to the part of Eisuke’s lips until-

“Mom, take a look at what I found!” Eito boasted, interrupting his parents by suddenly making his way over. “I found you the perfect pumpkin!”Eito was grinning from ear to ear, his cheeks puffed out in pride as he held up a large, bright orange pumpkin.

Stepping away from Eisuke, MC crouched down and extended her arms to greet Eito.“Eito, what a wonderful find,” MC cheered, genuinely impressed by the amount of though Eito was putting into ensuring he found her such an impeccable pumpkin.

“If that’s what you consider a superb pumpkin, then you have very juvenile taste,” Eisuke jabbed, miffed that his MC’s attention was taken from him. “Don’t ever present your mother with less than she deserves.”

“Eisuke….,” MC began to interject, but was left unheard since Eisuke was already headed towards the fields.

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Eisuke replied. “Come on, Eito. Allow me to remind you of what constitutes as an Ichnomiya standard.”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything!” Eito argued. Despite his protests, Eito set aside his pride and chased after his father.

MC watched from a distance as the two thoroughly inspected the rows of pumpkins. She was able to gather they were quarreling back and forth based on Eito’s everchanging facial expressions, but she was also able to observe the look of admiration Eito often held for Eisuke. Eito was intently hanging onto every word Eisuke spoke, and even divulged his appreciation by offering the billionaire a small nod in approval when they reached an agreement on the ideal pumpkin. Eisuke signaled for one of the workers to come assist, and Eito held the pumpkin proudly to his chest.

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A few weeks had passed since that fun day at the pumpkin patch. MC was about to leave their home and meet Eisuke in the lobby of the Tres Spades, when she caught a glimpse at the picture frame of the three of them on the coffee table. Her lips curled in a smile as she recollected that fond memory. Sparing one final peek at the happy photo, she eagerly stepped into the elevator.

After riding down into the lobby, the doors to the elevator sprung open and MC gasped in awe at the marvelous scene decorating the entrance into the hotel. She could hardly believe that the entire face of the lobby was covered in pumpkins. Each was turned into a different type of jack-o-lantern; carved with intricate details, and brightly illuminating from the inside. The normal atmosphere was vastly transformed into a not-so-spooky Halloween theme.

“Mom, you’re finally here!” Eito shouted as he ran across the room to greet her.

“Conduct yourself more appropriately,” Eisuke scolded, frowning when Eito ignored him and continued to race towards his mother and tightly hug her.

“We had the farm deliver all of these pumpkins, and then dad and I asked Uncle Ota to design them since we thought it would make you happy! Did it work? Are you happy?” the little boy asked, his eyes widened in an impatient anticipation as he awaited his mom’s response.

“Of course, I’m happy! You two did an amazing job working together,” MC acknowledged in pride, also addressing Eisuke who had just finished walking over to join her and Eito. “What did I ever do to deserve to be spoiled like this by my two favorite men in the entire world?”

MC wrapped Eito up into a hug and reached out to grasp onto Eisuke’s hand. Knowing that Eisuke and Eito worked through their differences to come together as father and son and plan such an elaborate surprise for her was truly better than any physical gift they could present her with.

“I love you, guys,” MC whispered, blinking back the tears of joy threatening to spill in elate of her excitement.

“Love you too, mom,” Eito murmured, blushing shyly at the direct confession.

Pressing a kiss on Eito’s forehead, MC captured Eisuke’s gaze with her own. Her eyes flashed in adoration when Eisuke lightly gave her hand a squeeze, and shared the sentimental smile he retained only for her.

I love you too, baby. I love you too.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb fanfic #voltage inc #eisuke ichinomiya fanfic #love 365 #voltage fanfic #kbtbb #kbtbb eisuke

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creepy-spooghetti · 4 years ago

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A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 11 - Anonymous

_____

Jack opens the door, stepping aside to allow a pale girl with medium-length blonde hair into the small house. She's clad in slightly ripped jeans, a pair of sneakers, a maroon tank top, and a black jacket. In her hand is a plastic bag that looks to have been taken from some kind of store, and what resides inside isn't completely clear, although judging by the shape of the objects Y\n assumes it to be shoes. Her violet-grey eyes land on Jack, then shift over to Y\n, who remains leaning against the wall and watching the scene warily in front of her.

She nods in silent greeting before walking through the door frame and into the living room, being followed by yet another girl, this one much younger and, instead of gripping a bag, a brown, old-looking teddy bear is tightly clutched within her arms. Her eyes are a bright, piercing shade of green, her chocolate-brown hair cascades over her shoulders and down her back. She wears a multi-colored hoodie splashed with shades of pink, lemony yellow, blue, and purple, and the hood itself has cotton cat ears attached to the hem. She has on a pair of black leggings, a pink mini-skirt, and rose-colored tennis shoes.

Faint freckles are scattered along her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, and her gaze travels from the floor and up to Y\n as she tilts her head shyly. There's a kid here, too? Y\n furrows her eyebrows and glances between the three people now standing ahead of her, two of which she's never seen before in her life. She assumes the teen to be who Jack called 'Wisteria', but who the younger one is she hasn't a clue. She never heard a kid being mentioned, so the news is a bit surprising to her.

That's when she takes notice of the blood slowly trickling down the side of her head, hidden previously by her long locks of hair, and dripping down onto her hoodie, forever staining the brightly-shaded piece of clothing with quite a large blotch of crimson. The child doesn't appear to be in any pain, but how would that be? If she had just been bashed in the head by some blunt object, how would she be able to ignore it? Come to think of it, how would she even be standing right now? Shouldn't she be knocked cold?

Y\n's heart rate increases from concern, and she's tempted to comment on it or even lunge forward, pull the girl toward her and get her away from the two teens standing in front of the doorway. They don't seem even remotely worried about it, either because they're the ones that gave her the damage, or they just haven't taken notice of it yet. "What is Sally doing here?" Jack questions, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie and taking up a casual-looking posture. He doesn't sound mad, just curious, and perhaps a little surprised.

Wisteria shrugs, wrapping a hand around her hair and slinging it across one of her shoulders. "Because she wanted to come."

"You couldn't have just left her with Ben or somethin'?" She shoots him a mildly annoyed expression.

"Are you stupid? That'd be a terrible idea."

"You've done it before."

"And that's a mistake I will never make, again." After a moment, Jack murmurs a half-hearted "okay, fine" in agreement before shutting the door and propping his back against its solid wooden surface. Wisteria briefly motions toward Y\n with a raised eyebrow. "This the girl?"

"I have a name," Y\n says, narrowing her eyes at the blonde and unable to stop glimpsing down at who she presumes is 'Sally', stomach churning with unanswered questions. She gets an impatient glance in return.

"I don't care," she responds, crossing her arms. Sensing a brewing disagreement, Jack interjects before it can go any farther.

"Yes, this is Y\n. And Y\n, this is Wisteria and Sally." The young brunette takes a small step forward, bringing her hand up and giving Y\n a timid wave as she clings tighter onto her stuffed animal.

"Hi..." Her voice is soft, so soft in fact that Y\n has to strain her ears just to hear and understand the words that leave her mouth. She offers the ghost of a smile in response, mostly one of concern for Sally's well-being. Who did that to her? Surely she didn't hit herself straight in the head, and even if she had, then she couldn't have made that big of an injury. She's just a kid, after all, no older than eight or nine, there's no way she could manage that kind of strength. Then again, there do seem to be some pretty...unusual people here. Is she one of them?

Wisteria stares her down as if studying her appearance, waiting for her to do something, silently judging her. Wisteria seems to be the only normal-looking person that Y\n has come across so far, save for the odd color of her eyes, though that can easily be overlooked. She'll still use it against her if she has to, though.

Y\n shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, meeting the slightly taller girl's gaze and refusing to break contact for fear of looking weak. She is not weak, and she doesn't want anyone to think that she is. Jack runs his fingers through his hair, standing to his full height once more, and steps toward Wisteria. "So, you brought the stuff?"

Without looking away from Y\n, she nods. "Yeah, I did." A barely-noticeable, sly smirk etches itself across her face as she uncrosses her arms. "Here. Catch." Before Y\n can even blink, the bag of shoes is being launched at her head, and she only just catches it before it can hit her in the eye and temporarily blind her. Huffing indignantly, she holds the plastic bag by its handle and places a hand on her hip, glaring at Wisteria and earning a haughty grin in return.

"Thanks." Her voice comes out in a sarcastic drawl, contemplating on throwing the bag back at her and giving her a taste of her own medicine. Instead, she focuses her attention on the child standing right beside Wisteria, then down to the large gash on her temple, unable to quell the curiosity about the unexplained wound and the worry for her safety. "What happened to your head, Sally?" She tries to keep her tone mild as she bends down a bit so she'll be closer to her height, as to not further intimidate her. Sally looks down nervously, stepping to the side until she's hidden partially by the taller girl's legs and the lower part of her torso.

"I...It's, uh..."

"None of your business," Wisteria snaps, suddenly becoming defensive and putting an arm in front of Sally protectively. Y\n takes a stride forward, boldness swarming inside of her chest.

"I'm not gonna stand aside and let some kid bleed to death while you're not doing anything about it."

"Alright, alright." Jack puts his arms out in front of him and steps between the two girls, facing Y\n with a peaceful tone to his voice. "Y\n, Sally isn't in danger."

Her eyes widen and she points at the green-eyed child mostly obscured by the larger frames of both Jack and Wisteria in exasperation. "Do you not see her head? Somebody clearly split it wide open!"

"Yes. Yes, they did." She presses her lips together and scowls at Jack, not understanding why he's acting so mellow about an eight-year-old kid being injured. "But that was a long time ago."

"So then why is it still bleeding?"

"Because it doesn't stop. It can't." Raising a skeptical and, distinctly confused eyebrow, she stares at him, waiting for him to continue the rest of his explanation. "Look... she isn't normal, not by a long shot. Not anymore."

"She doesn't need to know all of this, Jack," the blonde spits from behind him, though he only turns his head back to face her for a moment to say his reply.

"If she's going to be staying here, yes, she does." He shifts his attention back onto Y\n, ignoring the scoff of protest that erupts from behind him. "And what I mean by that, is... she's not human anymore. She's a ghost."

A ghost? He's talking about ghosts, of all things now? How crazy is everyone? She's never been a strong believer in ghosts or hauntings or anything like that but considering everything that's been happening to her as of late, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to start believing that things like ghosts do exist. But to be a ghost...you'd have to die. Does this mean that Sally died? Come to think of it, that wound does look pretty fatal...

"But ghosts aren't real," she says quietly, mainly to reassure herself that things like what he says are only in movies, and books, and TV shows. But are they, really? There has to be some reason that Sally isn't hurt by that exceedingly large gash in her head. Could that be why? Because she's already dead?

"They are, Y\n. That's why she isn't in pain." He points down toward Sally. "Because she's not alive, anymore." Y\n stares at Jack incredulously, then over to Sally, trying to process the information in her head. A dead person walking around? Like a zombie? Except, one major difference between Sally and a zombie is that Sally isn't currently trying to eat her alive. At least she's a friendly ghost, right?

She blinks, finding herself not completely in-touch with her surroundings. Next Jack will be telling her that there are aliens from another world about to invade Earth and that they need some time-traveling machine to stop them. It wouldn't be a big surprise, at least not at this point. Okay, so ghosts are apparently real. Yeah, that makes sense.

Though she really can't understand how such an idea works, she figures that dwelling on the matter won't do her any good. Just go with it, right? It'll make it easier on herself if she doesn't think about how bizarre this whole situation is. She just has to keep her mind on more plausible explanations, but like what? She hasn't any other theories for everything that's been taking place lately, what more does she have to go off of? The best idea she has is that this is all one massive hallucination, but even that's a far stretch of her imagination at this point. It all feels too real to be imagined.

Wisteria scoffs, rolling her vivid periwinkle eyes and drawing Y\n out of her hysteria of scrambled thoughts. "See? She can't even handle the simple truth." She furrows her eyebrows at the shorter girl still standing on the other side of Jack. "I still think we just shoulda killed her—"

"Wisteria." Jack cuts her off, voice austere as he shifts around to better face her. "That wouldn't have been a smart move."

"And why not?" She places a hand on her hip audaciously. "She wouldn't be our problem." He sighs in reply, shaking his head in disagreement.

"You know why she's here. It's better for all of us this way." Y\n stares at the two with a look of mild disbelief—like, hello? They do know that she's still right here in front of them, yeah? She can tell that Jack is trying to at least be subtle, but Wisteria on the other hand just acts like she doesn't care at all. Which is likely the case. "Y\n," He looks back at her, "are you ready to go?"

"I don't want to go." She eyes Wisteria, backing up farther into the wall behind her. "I'm not living in some stranger's house." At least she's been acquainted with Jack prior to all of this, and she's been talking with him for the past little while so she feels the most comfortable with him. What if this 'Brian' person is as obnoxious and appalling as Jeff? Or even more so? She really doesn't want to deal with someone like that, much less stay with them.

"Brian isn't going to hurt you, he's one of the most mature people here." Jack tries to sound reassuring for the most part, though it hardly works. "And Wisteria won't do anything either, she's just taking you to him." Y\n crosses her arms in protest, choosing not to verbally respond and instead send a stink eye his way.

"Don't be afraid..." A soft voice erupts from below her, and she glances down to meet the green eyes of Sally, who had somehow walked closer to her without Y\n even realizing it. Her facial expression melts into one of compassion as she once again looks at the open gash still bleeding on her head. If the little girl trusts them, shouldn't she?

Absolutely not. To be fair though, if Sally really is a ghost then they couldn't hurt her, anyway, so she wouldn't have a reason to fear them. Can she really trust her when she says not to be afraid? She could be in on it all, for crying out loud. Although, maybe she should be a bit more compliant just to see what happens. Other than kidnapping her among some other, more mild things, they haven't hurt her. Jack is the only one that's really even communicated with her, and as much as she hates to admit it, he's been nothing but patient with her since she woke up here. He didn't even seem to hold anything against her at the fact that she kneed him in a place no boy wants to be hit.

Plus, he provided her with an explanation for everything that's been happening. No one else had done that. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and releases an inaudible sigh from in-between her lips before turning and strolling down the hallway, stopping once she gets into the room she originally woke up inside. The broken glass that had been previously in front of the doorway seems to have been cleaned up, and she's more than grateful. It would suck stepping on shattered glass, it's a wonder she was able to avoid it to start with. Sitting on the bed, she takes the pair of shoes and a couple of old-looking socks out of the plastic store-made bag before beginning to slide them over her feet.

She tries not to bump her ankle, though her attempts prove futile when the top of the sock constricts around it, making a bolt of pain shoot up her leg. "I hate that stupid dog..." she mutters, remembering the very recent sensation of a canine's teeth clamping down on her ankle and refusing to let go until his owner told him to. She rubs at the bandages, trying to give the inflicted area some kind of relief before pulling the shoes up and slipping them, too, on her feet. She ties the laces, inwardly rejoicing at the fact that the shoes aren't high-tops, otherwise, it would bring her even more pain.

From the living room, Y\n can hear faint talking from who she assumes to be Jack and Wisteria, one of the voices slightly hostile and the other calm and collected. Well, what now? Go with Wisteria, she guesses, although she really doesn't have another choice. It isn't like she can run away in the state that her foot is in—she would surely be caught before she made it ten feet if even that. Jack said that Brian, whoever that is, won't harm her. Is he telling the truth? Who even knows. He's lied before, how can she be so sure that he isn't doing it again?

She shifts her gaze up from her shoes to the brunette girl standing in the doorway, looking a little timid though offering an affable smile nonetheless. She bounces on her heels, teddy clutched to her chest, and speaks. "Hi..."

Y\n tilts her head curiously, sitting properly once again and staring at the young girl. "Hi..." Sally slowly makes her way inside the room, face displaying innocence and a friendly desire.

"There aren't many girls here," she says, eyes averting down to the floor shyly. "You'll be the fourth, if you stay..."

"Fourth, huh?" She folds her hands into her lap tentatively. "Who's the third?"

"That's Zero...but she isn't here right now. So it's just me, and Sissy...and you." That comment makes her eyebrows furrow in mild puzzlement.

"Wait, Wisteria's your...your sister?" Y\n can't see any resemblance between the two, not even their eyes are the same color. And their personalities definitely seem different, with one being brash and the other being quiet and timid. Then again, having just met them she can't be too harsh of a judge but first impressions are everything. Sally parts her lips a moment as if she's about to say something only to cut herself off. She twirls a strand of long, brown hair around her finger as she collects her thoughts while Y\n waits patiently.

"Well...no. Not really, but...she treats me like her little sister."

Makes sense, she thinks, She did seem pretty protective of her.

"You're staying, right?" She steps a little closer, biting her lip hopefully. "Bad people are after you. They're after all of us. This is the only place we're safe."

"Sally...I have a family to get back to. They need me. I...I don't think I can stay here, not—not for long, anyway." Her facial expression falls, and she dips her head forward in what Y\n recognizes as discouragement.

"Oh..."

"You can...come with me, if you want?" She can tell that Sally seems perfectly happy here, but it doesn't quite sit well with her that she's still in a place with multiple people that could have, and likely did, do very bad and illegal things before. "My grandparents would be happy to give you a place to stay."

Sally flashes her a look of mild disbelief, green eyes widening slightly before she shakes her head. "I'm not leaving. This is my home."

"Are you sure?" She nods in response.

"And...and I don't think you should leave, either. I think you'd like it here if you gave it a chance."

"Sally...I don't belong here." Her voice lowers as she speaks, looking down and into the young girl's wide eyes. "I have a family back home, important people that I need to go back to."

"We all had a family at some point." She lowers her gaze to the floor, her tone becoming sheepish. "But...that was a long time ago." Y\n tilts her head. She knew that the people living here had to have some kind of backstories, though she never gave it much thought. Just how tragic is everyone that lives here? What happened to them to turn them into these...sadistic-looking things that likely have a natural lust for blood? "And now all we have is each other. We're our own family."

Not sure what to say, Y\n shifts a little on the edge of the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and biting the inside of her cheek.

"The monster wants something from all of us. It wants you, too." She nibbles at her bottom lip. "If you stayed with us, you'd be safe. It can't get you here." Taking a small step forward, she avoids eye-contact shyly and squeezes the stuffed bear tighter to her chest. "And you could be part of our family."

Y\n parts her lips to respond, though before she gets a chance, Wisteria peeks her head through the door, eyes landing on Sally then over to the girl still sat on the bed currently conversing with her. She meets her mild glare, expression hardening at the intense look being thrown her way. "Sally, c'mon. We're leaving."

She glances behind toward the blonde standing in the doorframe, then back at Y\n, her face lighting up slightly as a friendly smile spreads across her cheeks. "Yeah! You're gonna meet Brian. Don't worry—he isn't so crabby once you get to know him."

"Yes, he is," Wisteria says, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Sally shakes her head, taking Y\n's hand somewhat hesitantly and beginning to drag her toward the door. Y\n complies reluctantly, walking slowly behind the small-framed brunette.

"Not to me! He's only like that to you cause you're annoying." She scoffs and turns, disappearing from sight and heading outside. Sally glimpses up at Y\n as they begin to stride down the hallway. "He's nice, don't worry. He's just wary around new people."

Sounds like this 'Brian' dude isn't going to be too easy to get along with. Not that she's intending to try and 'get along' with anyone here, though it would be in her best interest to not make the people residing in this area hate her. As far as she's heard, they're not aiming to cause her any harm, but better safe than sorry, right? The last thing she'd want is to make one of them mad, especially the one with a smile carved in his face and an intimidating knife in the pocket of his hoodie.

They soon step into the living room, Sally momentarily releasing her hold on Y\n's hand as she swiftly catches up with Wisteria, who is walking off the porch and glancing around, as if checking the surroundings for possible dangers. Y\n slows her pace when she gets in front of Jack, meeting his oozing, soulless pits attentively. "There are no more dogs, right?"

He curtly shakes his head. "Brian isn't big on dogs. Smile's the only one here." He shoves his hands into his pockets, noticing the look of disdain on her features and attempting to bring her a sense of reassurance. "I'll be over in a couple of days to check on your bite. Until then, medicate and dress it each night before you go to bed. He should have plenty of resources to work with."

"That's comforting," she mutters, briefly averting her eyes down to her bandaged ankle, partly hidden by her shoes but still in clear sight if one were to look closely enough.

"I know you don't want to be here. I get it. But if you want your grandparents to be safe, you'll have to stay put, or get out and get them killed and possibly yourself, too." His voice has a solemn sound to it, his deep tone contributing to the daunting factor.

"Y\n, come one!" Sally calls from outside, drawing Y\n's attention and making her release a defeated huff.

"I'll see you, I guess," she says quietly, gaze falling to the ground before following the two girls, Sally taking hold of her hand once again when she steps onto the ground. The very same ground that she had run across just an hour prior in a rushed attempt to escape, and could have succeeded had it not been for Jeff and his stupid dog. Merely thinking about the series of unfortunate events, she's unable to stop from glancing down at the bandaged area in which Smile chomped down upon in order to catch and bring her back here, where exactly 'here' is, she still hasn't figured out. In the middle of a forest, obviously, but in the middle of what forest? Where is she at? What state, what area is she in?

Wisteria takes a sharp turn left, beginning to stroll in-between the tall trees, some skinny and some quite large, and Sally follows suit, dragging behind a nervous and mildly resistant Y\n by her hand. After a moment, she hears a soft click from the house, signifying that Jack closed the door and is likely in the process of forgetting about her and her miserable situation.

Figures. "So...do you not like dogs?" The question takes Y\n a little off-guard, and she meets the curious eyes of the curly-haired girl walking in front of her, still clinging to her hand gently.

"Um...well, I never really minded them, but...that was before one of them John Cena'd me earlier so now, I'm not so sure." She shrugs, and Sally grows a knowing look on her face.

"Are you talking about Smile?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm talking about Smile." She inwardly winces as her left foot lands inside of a shallow hole, stumbling slightly and having to take a moment to gather her bearings. She hopes that they don't have to walk too much farther before they come upon Brian's house, not that she's looking forward to meeting another freak, but because if she has to stand on her leg all day then it's going to be throbbing very badly.

"Smile's usually a really sweet dog. He may just not like you."

"Yeah, cause his owner is a huge jerk."

"You mean Jeff? Yeah, he's kinda mean."

What a shocker.

"A couple days ago he replaced the sugar with salt and it tasted terrible on my Rice Krispies." She makes a moderately disgusted face, scrunching up her nose and reliving the memory. Y\n furrows her eyebrows.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. Wisteria made him leave and threw my Barbie doll at his head..." The image of Jeff having some kid's Barbie being yeeted at his face and hitting him in the eye or some other important area almost has her smiling bitterly, eyes shifting down to her ankle once more and reminding her how much pain he just recently caused her, unnecessarily.

"What was...Jeff, doing at your house?"

"He was over to return something that he borrowed before," Wisteria suddenly speaks from ahead of them, not looking back and continuing to walk through the expansion of woods. "There's no way I'd allow him to come otherwise. And for the record, that Barbie doll was a piece of trash anyway. I was just putting it in the garbage where it belonged."

Y\n snorts quietly at that comment, not expecting the sudden insult toward someone who isn't even currently present though definitely not disagreeing. Through her brief encounter with the blue-eyed male, he did not seem like a favorable person by any standards, and as much as she'd hate to admit it, he is frightening and she wouldn't want to cross him. He's a big dude and there's no way she'd stand a chance against him, especially not with her leg the way it is.

"Well...we're here." Y\n looks up and sees yet another house, this one also shrouded with plants and vines likely to obscure its appearance from anyone who may stumble across it, assuming they actually didn't get caught by the psychopaths that live here and made it out alive, oblivious to their existence. It isn't very big, the paint is chipped and faded, and there's a barbed-wire fence surrounding the outside of it.

Sally grins up at Y\n excitedly. "Welcome to Brian's house!"

#Creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #y\n l\n #sally willliams #hoody #brian thomas #wisteria everest #creepypasta oc #eyeless jack #creepypasta fanfic #x reader fanfic #jeff the killer

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hankwritten · 4 years ago

Text

Immaterial Witness

Demoman/Soldier, 5k

Request for r2mich2, Ghosthunting

Demo was less than thrilled about being selected for mandatory company ghost-busting work. His enthusiasm dropped even lower when he saw who’d be accompanying him.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“You!” Soldier replied. “Except with a different inflection! To indicate I am also not happy to see you!”

“Bloody hell,” Demo groaned as the looked at the man before him. “Jesus of all the BLU’s she could have picked for a ‘cross team eradication venture’, and she went with you.”

“I didn’t agree to this either, maggot,” Soldier assured him. “I am under orders not to strangle any REDs until this mission is complete, but my tractability will be put to the test if said RED is such a weakling and liar.”

“For the last time, I never called you a-”

“And what about all the things you did say, you son of a bitch?”

Demo scowled, not looking forward to going through the same recycled arguments over again. She had some nerve putting the two of them together after what she’d put them through; complete and total destruction of a friendship, and for what? Just to decide TF Industries was going to be managing both teams a few months later? It was a load of crap if Demo ever heard it.

“What are you even wearing?” he scoffed at Soldier’s new uniform.

“This is regulation specter pummeling gear, you sissified maggot scum!” Soldier puffed up proudly. Gone was the red jacket and fatigues, instead superseded by a singular beige jumpsuit.

“And what’s that?” Demo pointed to the canister vacuum strapped to his back. No bells, no whistles, just a regular old vacuum with a flexible nozzle.

“Ghost sucker,” Soldier said plainly.

“Right. Obviously.”

“Well what did you bring RED?” Soldier accused. “These ghosts are going lift you up by your frilly little underthings and fling you right out the door if you do not have anything to protect yourself from their disembodied maliciousness!”

“I,” Demo said, flexing his fist, “have this.”

Engineer had built it with such efficiency, Demo was sure he’d made the blueprints years ago and was just waiting for someone to ask for a ghost-capturing device. The device’s visual design was similar to that of the gunslinger, but instead of a limb replacement, it functioned more like power armor, cradling the outside of the wearer’s hand and increasing their grip tenfold.

“This ‘lil beauty has everything,” Demo continued haughtily. “EKG readings, built in spooktralizer, and-” He pulled back his fingers, activating the now-glowing disk in the center of his palm. “Anti-gravity net. No spirit’s going to escape this vortex, which is a good thing because you can’t suck up a ghost with a vacuum cleaner.”

“Shows how much you know, buster,” Soldier said. “All those doodads won’t do jack when you are staring into the blood-red eyes of a flesh-hungry phantom—these are creatures of the other side! Of the great beyond! They do not care about technology.”

“Oh aye?” Despite himself, Demo got right into Soldier’s face. “We’ll se about that when my power glove’s saving your sorry arse from having spectral boot shoved up it.”

“I will take that bet, princess,” Soldier spat back.

“Uuhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggg,” a new voice cut into the conversation. “If I have to sit through another one of your lover’s spats I’m going to kill myself. Again.”

Soldier’s eyes narrowed, fixating on something over Demo’s shoulder. “Oh great. The sword is here.”

“Yes! The sword is here!” the Eyelander chirped sarcastically. “And since I’m bloody gracing you with my company, you can do me a favor and get on with this thing. We’ve been standing out here for ten minutes.”

“It’s right,” Demo admitted as Soldier continued to stare daggers at the weapon strapped to his back. “Let’s head in.”

Demo didn’t wait to see if Soldier followed him as he took his first creaking step onto the house’s porch; by company orders, they were stuck together for now, no matter how much bad blood ran between them.

“So why are we clearing this place of ghosts anyway?” Eyelander asked as Demo pushed in the front door. The doubles groaned with an appropriate level of eeriness.

“The Voice’s orders,” he shrugged. “She wants this for a new battleground, but she wants it ghost free. Apparently there’ve been too many complaints about the past few Halloweens for her liking.”

“Really?” Eyelander said aghast. “Who doesn’t like Halloween?”

“Eh. Some of the mercs think it’s too random. Chaotic, hard to focus on what’s going on. They don’t like all the candy packs and the fact that idiot in a robe shows up and turns a ten minute match into a thirty minute nightmare.” At the last, he eyed Soldier over his shoulder.

“Do not look at me!” Soldier barked. “That isn’t my fault!”

“Yes it is! Last time he even said ‘SOLDIER THIS IS YOUR FAULT!’ as he was dropping bombs on our heads!”

“Well I am not the only causer-of-halloween-related-problems in this company,” Soldier said, jogging to get ahead of Demo to block his path. “The giant floating eyeball with red wig and child-sized overalls certainly wasn’t mine.”

Demo rubbed his face. “Jesus, just forget it. The only reason we have to tolerate each other is because there’s some soul with soon-to-be-finished business lurking around here, and we picked the short straw. So let’s find whatever apparition, spirit, or poltergeist is squatting in this dump and get out of each other’s hair.”

About to offer some stupid retort, Soldier was abruptly cut off as Eyelander yelped, “w-wait! Poltergeists?? You didn’t say anything about those arseholes!”

Demo and Soldier exchanged a look.

Soldier leveled a frown at the Eyelander. “You are a ghost, maggot. How on God’s green earth are you afraid of ghosts?”

“I’m afraid of poltergeists, eejit,” Eyelander snapped back. “You don’t bloody mess with a geist unless you want your immortal soul turned to shreds and left to wander the infinite abyss forever.”

“Whatever, this is getting us nowhere.” Demo pushed past Soldier. “C’mon. We’ve got a job to do.”

As he passed under the precarious looking chandelier overseeing the foyer, Soldier murmured, “tch. Only ever got the job. Typical.” Demo pretended he hadn’t heard.

What he did hear—over the sounds of the Eyelander whining about powerful forces they didn’t understand and eventually sinking into resigned grumble—was the sound of an organ playing in the deep bowels of the manor.

“Thirty bucks says there’s no one playing it when we get there,” Demo said.

“Deal,” Eyelander replied.

They readied their weapons. Well, not exactly weapons (and definitely not weapons in Soldier’s case, as he strangled his vacuum’s hose in a viselike grip), but tools that would get this bloody ghost out of here and let Demo go home for the day. His footsteps scraped decades old rugs as he padded carefully across the ground, power glove extended into the gloom before him. No readings yet, save for Eyelander’s steady thrum, but as soon as they crossed the barrier of the music room the EKG jumped like crazy.

“Called it,” Demo said as the organ continued to press down one ivory key after another, despite the only human beings in the room being the two mercs who had just entered. “Pay up, Eyelander.”

“Sure! Let me just grab my wallet.”

“Smart-arse.”

“It’s called a pommel.”

“If you two ladies are finished,” Soldier growled, drawing closer to the haunted piano, “let’s bag this ghost-maggot.”

Demo rolled his eye, sweeping to the other side of the organ that’s girth took up the entirety of the room, pipes clawing at the ceiling as wax burned down to nubs around it. “You ‘n your cleaning supplies just stand back.”

“And let you fumble our ticket out of here? I don’t think so.” Soldier flipped on his Hoover.

The glove began to gyrate in Demo’s palm. “You’re the one who’s messing this up! If you’d just believe me when I tell you something-”

“How can I believe you when your history of treachery continues?”

They were nearing the organ now, the disk glowing a menacing red and the vacuum jumping like it was trying to escape Soldier’s hands. The music doubled its tempo, growing more erratic with every step the pair took toward its console.

“There is no history,” Demo spat. “I didn’t do it in the first place!”

“But you still took the contract!”

“Because you did first!”

There wasn’t so much music now as random mashing of keys, a pained wailing accompanying the stressed notes in an unholy shriek. A bolt of electricity shot from the glove collided with something on the piano seat, revealing a ghastly form in the middle of the two men.

“Maybe I would have gone back on it!” Soldier roared as he struggled to maintain control of the hose, writhing in his hands like a viper. “If you’d talked to me I would have known it wasn’t-”

“THAT SHOULDN’T BE MY RESPONSIBILITY.”

“WELL IT HAS TO BE SOMEBODY’S.”

As Soldier screamed his final words, the ghost between them joined in the crescendo. The two forces on either of its sides pulled and pulled at its edges, wind howling and light flashing until-

Demo and Soldier were thrown into opposite walls with a resounding crack.

Grimacing, Demo pushed himself up, rubbing away the white spots in his vision that their techno-vortex had left him with. When things were mostly clear, he blinked at the organ seat, finding no trace of the specter the power glove had briefly outlined.

“Did we get it?” Soldier asked, likewise suppressing aches as he got to his feet.

“Dunno.” Demo tapped a few buttons on his glove. “Well there’s only one reading now. Maybe we fried it?”

“Bag isn’t full,” Soldier noted, poking the vacuum. “Must’ve.”

“Hm. I suppose that was climactic enough. I’m fine with leaving if you are.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” Soldier said, already halfway to the door.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Demo grumbled, following him out. “Went down pretty easy, all things considered. Barely a quarter of ‘ole Merasmus’s hit points. Can’t believe Eyelander was scared of that.”

The Eyelander said nothing.

Demo stopped walking. “You alright, mate?” he asked over his shoulder to where Eyelander was sheathed.

Still, it didn’t respond. He pulled it out, a soft sssth in the now quiet music room, and held it in front of him. He was about to ask it again, when Eyelander finally blurted, “oh uh! Right, me. I’m fine, just peachy, how are you?”

Soldier paused, and turned on his heel. “RED. Why doesn’t your sword have a stupid accent anymore?”

“Uh, crap uh,” the sword sputtered. “Blimey is what I meant to say governor! Pip pip bob’s your uncle and all that!”

“You!” Demo said, squeezing the imposter ghost for all it was worth, to which it gave a tiny eep! “What have you done with Eyelander?”

“Look, this doesn’t have to be a problem right?” the geist said. “I can still be a haunted sword! And do whatever it is the old ghost did, but please don’t make me get out. I’ve been trapped in that organ for fifty years! I want to go, see the world, oh please oh please take me with you?”

“Maybe we let it,” Soldier snorted. “Can’t be any more annoying than the old one.”

“That’s not funny,” Demo snapped, then turned his singular glare to the sword. “Listen here you useless lump of ectoplasm, you tell me what you did with my friend or I’m going to turn your soul into sizzling anti-matter.”

“No!”

And to Demo’s shock, the sword went flying from his hands, shooting up into the room’s ceiling.

“No, I won’t go back!” Encased in an orange glow, the sword maneuvered under its own power, spinning wildly until it had become an airborne lawnmower blade. “Screw you guys!”

“Shite!” Demo said as he charged out after it as it went shooting into the hall.

He followed it all the way to the foyer again, sprinting around each corner just to keep it in sight, but when he arrived out of breath at the grand staircases he had to admit there was no catching it.

“Shite,” he repeated.

“What in the goddamn hell was that about?” Soldier had, of course, followed him back to the entrance. “Now we’re stuck here until we find it again. Couldn’t have withheld your groveling freak out for one damn second.”

“I wasn’t just going to let it steal Eyelander’s sword!” Demo retaliated.

“You and the fucking Eyelander,” Solder swore, helmet wobbling as a snarl curled on his features. “Always with the Eyelander. You care more about that sword than you do anyone else, and you always fucking pick it in the end.”

They were in each other’s faces once more, nose to nose as the manor creaked around them. Demo glared, and softly replied, “well maybe the sword is better company.”

That might have been the end of it any other time, but they were too close now, too entwined, and Soldier grabbed the front of Demo’s shirt. “…God damn you,” he muttered. His face rippled with something unrecognizable. “That’s what I mean. Maybe that wasn’t you in the video, but when you took that contract you started saying crap like that.”

A hard knot found itself in Demo’s throat. He ignored the beeping coming from his glove. “After hearing ‘I never liked you’ enough times, it’s hard not to believe it.”

“…We ever going to stop lying to each other?”

Demo pulled the hand from the front of his shirt. The beeping was growing incessantly loud but he blocked it out, only focusing on stamping away from the Soldier-

And not noticing when the chandelier above him gave an ominous jolt.

His head whipped up too late when the chain broke, the glove practically screaming as he froze in panic for split second-

The cacophany when the chandelier came down was earsplitting, hundreds of glass teardrops shattering on the marble floor below, crashing into each other as their frame became nothing more than a bent pile of metal. Demo wheezed, having been thrown into a solid surface for the second time in less then ten minutes, and his brain caught up enough to realize he wasn’t dead.

The Soldier, having tackled Demo to bring him out of the worse of the poltergeist’s attack, had taken the brunt of it. He winced, rolling onto the hip that didn’t have any glass stuck in it.

“Christ,” Demo hissed, staring at the broken fixture. “It really is trying to kill us now, isn’t it?”

“You threatened to atomize its soul,” Soldier grunted. “Can’t blame it.”

Demo’s eye reaffixed to the bleeding BLU, tongue catching on the question. “You-” But what was he even supposed to say?

Soldier avoided his gaze. “Shut it, maggot. This was merely a rescue based on contempt and rivalry—no one’s allowed to kill you but me, yadda yadda, you get the picture.”

“Soldier…”

Years of bitter hatred choked down whatever else he would have said, but they couldn’t stop the swell of concern as he watched blood bloom on Soldier’s jumpsuit.

“Here,” he said, getting to his knees and picking his way through the broken glass. “Let’s get you up.”

Soldier glared in suspicion. Their argument still hung hot, bar of iron glowing yet unforged, not sure what shape it was suppose to take. But the blood was moving steadily down Soldier’s leg, and with distaste he resigned himself to being lifted under one arm.

“I can do it myself, maggot,” Soldier said once Demo had helped him to the stairs and tried to push up his pant leg.

Demo stared at him for a moment, hand holding the bandage he’d torn from the jumpsuit’s opposite leg, eye unargumentative as he gazed at the Soldier. A few more seconds of reproach ticked by, but then Soldier sighed in resignation, glancing away as Demo tied up his leg.

When it was over, he wasted no time getting to his feet, refusing Demo’s arm this time. “Definitely can’t let that thing run wild now,” he said. “Get your stupid glove to tell us where it is.”

There was an obvious limp to his walk, but Demo knew he had survived worse. That Demo had put him through worse.

The Demoman tapped his wrist a few times and said, “this way.”

The second floor was just rows and rows of suits of armor. All of them identical, all of them leaning down menacingly as the mercenaries passed beneath, listening to the spooktralizer’s pulse become a steady companion. There was constant draft, a thrumming chill up Demo’s spine, and he tried to remind himself that ghosts had the power to get inside your head and trigger your fear response. The fact that the haunt had turned murderous was nothing to be worried about—that he was, in all reality, afraid of no ghost.

The nearest suit of armor vibrated, and he jumped three feet in the air.

So did Soldier, bristling like a cat and demanding, “show yourself Casper! I am not afraid of your pathetic saber rattling!”

In response, every suit in the hall lifted it arms.

Soldier yelped, and he and Demo found themselves back to back, their respective ghost hunting equipment bared in front of them. But they were surrounded, the suits jerking to life and taking their first halting steps off their pedestals, clanking stiffly at the two mercenaries. They were forced backwards, one step, then two, until suddenly Demo found himself on the ground, the creeping terror that he’d been repressing now roaring overpoweringly. It was just a mind trick, just a manipulation, but knowing that and being able to act were vastly different things—and as the ancient warriors drew closer, he reached out and clung desperately to the closest thing he could find.

Clang went the greaves in front of him, coming to a stop as the full-body rattle started again. Shaking and shaking and Demo didn’t look, burying his face in Soldier’s shoulder-

“Ayyyiiieeeeeee,” a voice screamed as something small and spectral went spinning out of the armor.

After several seconds of silence from the suits around them, Demo finally lifted his head. All the armor had gone stiff and immobile, and the only clue to their previous animation was the ghostly impression of a sword floating a few feet off the ground.

“Eyelander?” he blinked.

“Uhhhg…my rain gaurd…” the Eyelander’s apparition groaned. “What…urhg…what happened? …….And why are you two cuddling?”

Demo looked down to find Soldier was clinging to him just as tightly as Demo was to he. Soldier realized it at the same time, and immediately pushed Demo off him, saying, “I did not give you permission to use me for comfort and safety, maggot!”

“Oi! You were the one who started it!” Demo turned his attention to the Eyelander. “What the bloody hell was that about? You trying to make us crap our pants?”

“Urhg, I don’t know!” Eyelander snapped. “If I’m not concentrating on anything in particular I just end up doing ghost type things. Like how you just start making horse noises when you think you’re home alone.”

Soldier snickered. Demo shot him a glare.

Ignoring him, Soldier got to his feet and dusted himself off. “That’s one thing to check off the list.” He paused, inspecting the form floating before him. “…Why are you a sword?”

“…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait, no, Soldier’s right,” Demo said, getting up as well. “You’re not in the blade anymore, you can look like anything you want! You used to be a mortal, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember okay?” it snapped. “That was centuries ago, I don’t know how to be anything but a ghost sword.”

“Aw, give it a shot mate,” Demo encouraged. “If we’re going to hunting around for the geist that stole your sword, you might as well try a new form.”

“…Alright, I guess I can give it a try.”

Slowly, the illusion in front of them melted, growing until it was humanoid, then rippling as details began to make its shape. The jaw strengthen, and a hole appeared in the right side its face, features sharpening until a near-copy of the Demoman stood next to the suit of armor. It was a hazy reflection, as though looking at himself in green glass, but a reflection just the same.

“Hey, don’t be me,” Demo said.

“Yeah, we already got enough of those,” Soldier added under his breath.

“Uhg,” it complained. “Sorry. You’re the most recent person I’ve been.” The uncanny valley was further emphasized that Eyelander forgot to move Demo’s mouth when it was speaking.

“Just be yourself,” Demo insisted, as much due to the ghost-him’s creepiness as the fact that he was a bit curious about who Eyelander used to be. “Go on, give it a shot.”

Grumbling without moving its mouth, the Eyelander began to change again, Demo’s features swept away as though lost on the wind. It grew inexorably, towering of the mortals below it like a warrior from myth; then it shrank, arms and ghostly blade disproportionately detailed like recalling a fighting feeling.

Both of these faded, other particulars bubbling up from the surface. A tartan hood crawled over the general shape of a head, plunging the face into inscrutability. From its shoulders sprung a cape, one that would have pooled across the ground if the mirage weren’t floating a half-foot off the stone. A thick tunic billowed, then fell down to the mirage’s knees, held in place by a sash across its chest.

The face beneath flickered. Morphing, becoming-

“Damn it,” Eyelander groaned as the features fell back into darkness, effort weakening its voice. “I really don’t remember.”

“Ach, it’s fine Eyelander,” he assured it, hearing the clear disappointment. “We’ll get your sword back in no time.”

“…Thanks mate.”

Suddenly, Soldier pushed past him, far roughing than necessary. “If the ghost is done having an identity crisis, lets get back to busting.”

Demo frowned after him, but according to the readings he was headed in the right direction, so he said nothing to it.

Eyelander was a different story. “OoooOOOoooo, jealous again are we?” Catching up to him was no problem when it could simply glide across the ground, cape fluttering behind it.

“Silence apparition!” Soldier stated. “You cannot get inside my head with your devil words, nor your OoooOOOoooo.”

Eyelander cackled, floating in front of him and forcing him to walk into it. He shivered as he passed through the ethereal dregs, breaking from his path and pivoting into the nearest set of doors. They found themselves in the grand library, tiers upon tiers of floor-to-ceiling books simply rotting in the dust. Cobwebs clung to everything, ancient lamps and moldering fainting couches, rendering the entire room silent.

“Touch a nerve?” Eyelander was enjoying its new ‘body’, swinging a spectral arm over Soldier’s shoulder that he was unable to shrug off. “Not still mad he likes me better than you?”

“Only goes to show how poor his taste is,” Soldier snapped.

Demo had to jog to catch up. The library’s various stone busts turned to watch him as he moved.

“Maybe, if he was hanging out with you to begin with,” Eyelander persisted. “Does that bother you, yankee doodle?”

“Eyelander, lay off him,” Demo said, surprising even himself when the words came out of his mouth. Soldier didn’t look, breathing heavily through his nose

“Why?” the ghost huffed. It was odd seeing the body language to accompany it for once, the entity folding its arms across its chest. “He’s the one who throws a fit whenever I’m around, and I’m bloody sick of it. Why should I have to put up with some moron you don’t want anything to do with?”

“Shut your nonexistent mouth!” Soldier was really heated now. “If you keep talking to me I will put my boot up so far up your ass you will feel it in the afterlife!”

“OoooOOOoooo,” Eyelander said, and it was a proper ghostly ooo that reverberated about the empty library. “I’m so scared. Should I start crying out in fear? That’s all a lout like you knows how to do, just yell until someone cries and then piss off entirely. Well guess what, eejit, he’s just fine without you.”

“I am warning you…” Soldier growled.

“Oh but that doesn’t stop you from getting all possessive does it?” Eyelander just goaded, heedless of anything else but its own petty revenge. “More possessive than me, and I’m the one possessing him! Is that the sort of bond you’re going for yank? Spending a lot of time in-”

With a furious scream, Soldier launched himself at the Eyelander. On instinct, it jerked to the side to try and avoid his murderous hands, but it didn’t matter either way as Soldier when flying through the ghost’s form and crashed into the bookcase behind it.

The bookcase swung like a revolving door, and Soldier disappeared from view.

Eyelander and Demo shared a glance. “Did that just…?” he asked.

“Hold on.” It glided forward, passing through the bookcase unimpeded. A moment later, it stuck its head back out through the wall and said, “aye! It’s a secret passage! Some stairs going down into a basement of some sort.”

“Stairs? Is Solder alright?” Demo worried as he came forward and tried to trigger whatever had moved the loose shelf.

The Eyelander stuck its head in, then back out again. “Eh, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Demo found him, if not exactly fine, then stabilized. His leg had started bleeding again, but the tumble down the basement stairs had shaken the fight out of him. He let Demo rebandage his injuries with barely a word.

“Good work finding the passage, lad,” Demo said, as though he didn’t feel a terrible heat of embarrassment on the back of his neck. “Based on the readings, that’s where the ghost is hiding.”

“Hm,” was all Soldier said. He wouldn’t look at either Demo or the levitating knight.

“…Eyelander, why don’t you float on ahead?” Demo said after a moment. “Scout things out a bit for us?”

“Yeah, sure. Not being bound to a mortal vessel anymore gives you a lot more free range of movement.”

Demo helped Soldier to his feet. Several long minutes were spent walking down a cold, damp tunnel, only illuminated by bulbs covered in metal grates that flickered in sync. When Eyelander had drifted far enough ahead in its impatience, Demo asked what had been on his mind since they’d come down here, spinning over as the guilt he’d been holding back for years weighed heavier on him than it ever had.

“…Jane?” he mumbled. The Soldier jumped at his real name. “What Eyelander said back there…have I really been…?”

“Don’t believe anything that comes out of that ghost’s pie hole! Its ghost pie hole! Where it puts its ghost pies!” Soldier barked hastily. “It is- I don’t-!”

Demo let Soldier sputter for a moment before frowning at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Soldier choked mid denial and whipped his head so hard his eyes showed wild underneath the helmet. “You- What?”

“You were right,” Demo rubbed his face. “About always lying to each other. Saying we didn’t care, just to make it easier. And you’re right that I treat my friends like crap sometimes, picking the sword—the job—over anybody else. So I fucked up too, believing their lies just as much, listening to them because it was the easiest.” He lifted his head, making eye contact with the alarmed Soldier. “So maybe I do pick the sword sometimes. But I never should have taken a bribe over my best friend.”

They’d stopped walking, Soldier just staring at him, mouth slightly open.

Soldier breathed in deep. “…Your best friend?”

Cautiously, taking care not to startle Soldier or his own frayed nerves, Demo reached out and held Soldier’s hand. He could hear Soldier’s labored breaths, even as the BLU looked down so steeply at their linked hands that his helmet obscured is whole face.

“Aye.”

Soldier’s mouth writhed a second longer before saying, “I’m sorry. Too. For all the crap I said to you after. I didn’t mean any of it either, I always liked you. I always…”

Demo squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk after we get my sword back, aye?”

Soldier finally lifted his chin, a grin of joyous relief across it. “Affirmative! We will beat the crap out of that weapon-stealing cheat, and then boot it back to kingdom come.”

“Our powers combined, eh?” Demo wiggled the fingers on the power glove.

Soldier lifted his hose. “Lets get this spirit-maggot!”

“Are you two coming?” the Eyelander demanded, reappearing in the grimy tunnel before them. “There’s this big evil laboratory at the end of the hall and the bell-end body-snatcher is just waiting for someone to come and kick its pommel.”

Demo grinned at his once-again best mate. “Don’t worry Eyelander, that bastard’s got another thing coming.”

The rescue squad stormed into the evil lab, magic and science and supernatural forces in hand. The room was exactly what you’d think: test tubes full of pulsating green goo, an open slab with leather straps around it, giant Tesla coils pointing all which way as though the whole space was ready to zap you at a moment’s notice.

“You!” Eyelander demanding, pointing a menacing spectral finger at the sword floating in the center of the room.

“Aw crap,” it said as it turned and saw the trio of ghostbusters that had come for its soul.

Immediately, it tried to make a run for it, zipping off on a trail of orange magic. But Soldier was faster, flipping the Hoover to ‘suck’ and immediately summoning a typhoon from the nozzle’s end. The geist shrieked as it was pulled backwards, forward momentum fighting against the suction until was it pulled taught mid-air. Demo wasn’t going to inadvertently help it this time, though. Instead, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his best mate, and sent a pulse of magnetic energy to join the vacuum’s pull.

“NOOOOOooooo,” the geist screamed as it began to lose ground.

It still wasn’t enough. A humanoid shape was being drawn from the sword, but that only made it struggle harder, fighting tooth and nail as it screamed all the while.

The Eyelander’s spirit stormed forward. With both hands it gripped the sword, pulling away from its rival ghost with its impressive incorporeal biceps. The geist screamed harder, but in a three-on-one it was losing, even as it tried to wrench the hilt away. Eyelander grabbed above the crossguard, and a gush of ethereal blood splattered on the floor, but the extra leverage worked, and it ripped the blade free from enemy hands.

Eyelander reared back, and the ghost went falling into the vacuum with a scream.

The impact knocked Demo flat on his ass. It wasn’t as rough as the first explosion, but he still groaned as he sat up. “We get it this time?”

Soldier poked the bag, which moaned in protest. “Yup. We got it.”

“How about you Eyelander?” Demo got up and walked to where the sword had fallen. “Everything back in the bits?”

“Uhrg…my whole fuller hurts,” the blade on the floor said in what was definitely the Eyelander’s voice. “Put me back in my scabbard…I want a nap.”

Demo chuckled, and did as he was asked.

“Teamwork saves the day!” Soldier declared, walking up to the pair. “Goes to show what camaraderie and true American sprit can do.” He clapped Demo on the shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile.

“…Did I miss something?” Eyelander asked from its sling on Demo’s back.

“Nah,” Demo said. “Jane ‘n I just worked some things out. Don’t worry your pretty little locket about it.”

“We are best friends again!” Soldier was too excited to hold back. He grabbed Demo’s hand again and squeezed.

The two shared a look of shining eyes and full hearts.

“Yuck,” Eyelander noted. “Do I have to be here for this?”

“Ah, shut it,” Demo said. “We just saved your life.”

“I didn’t want to be brought along in the first place!”

“You hate being left alone at the base,” Demo pointed out.

“Yeah but that was before you brought ghosthunting into the picture. You should have known better! What if one of your stupid machines had malfunctioned and killed me instead?”

As they walked back up through the secret passage, Soldier leaned toward the scabbard and said, “looks like there’s trouble in paradise after all, huh.” Demo had never heard him be smugger.

“Keep grinning, eejit,” Eyelander grumbled. “Next time we get into battle I’m carving a new smile into your throat.”

Soldier snickered, and they left the manor victorious.

#boots n bombs #demosolly #tf2 fanfiction

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yami-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Autumn Leaves

(🏷️) paring(s): Todoroki x reader (🔮) summary: Class 1-A’s Halloween day, how exciting! (⚠️) warning(s): just sum fluff (🔖) word count: 2.1k (💌) note from Yami: ending off our Seasonal Love Event with somewhat of a bang ;)

Season: Autumn/Fall words: Halloween, Harvested, Cobweb

A gust feathered atop your hair, making it dance in the breeze. You moved your small bag to your left hand to use your right index finger to remove a small strand of hair from your face. You took a quick look around you, admiring the scenery. It looks quite lovely outside. The sky looked as if it was raining leaves of all autumn colours. Yellow, orange, red, brown… it all looked so pleasing. You could practically smell the sweet sap in the oak trees, ready to be harvested. While the breath-taking view in front of you was georges, something- no, someone even better was walking right beside you. You looked up at him, being greeted once again by his seemingly perfect appearance. His red and white hair mashed together as the wind trickled through it, creating a non-symmetrical pattern that was surprisingly pleasing to the eye. His heteomocratic eyes seemed to be admiring the view in front of him as well, as they glicinded with a slight tint of the autumn leaves dancing in the wind. He seemed to be just as mesmerized by the sight as you were.

‘God- why does he have to be so kissable?’

The two of you continued walking, soon to be met with your destination. You both crossed onto a street the two of you knew all too well and, before you knew it, you were in front of a tall building you’ve been living in for the past 3 years, this year surprisingly being your last. The building full of memories to be remembered forever. The classmates you trained with, and will become pro heroes with, Heights Alliance. You excitedly skipped in, your boyfriend following close behind

“Careful, y/n. Remember your carrying a bag.” he warned, closing the door behind him. “It's fine! I won't break the pumpkins, have some trust in me, Shouto!” you replied, carefully setting the delicate bag on a table. “That's not what i meant, i just don't want you to break them-”

“says the guy he almost didn't even let me hold the bag in the first place” it took you almost 10 minutes to convince him to hold the bag and even after, you felt his missed-matched eyes glance at you every now and then

“Whatever. lets just go do this before you get the chance to destroy one.” “hey!!” Before you were able to contest, you felt his lips line up beautifly with yours.

Admittedly, this was his sweet way of shutting you up, an overpowered weapon used too often.

The two of you went up to your dorm and prepared for an event class A’s been planning for what seemed like months. Halloween day! Not the most creative name, sure, but the name wasn't the important part. It consisted of a Jack O'Lantern contest before taking a quick trip to an Amusement park. Simple, yes, but you were looking forward to it non the less.

“How do we do this?” Your boyfriend asked, as he placed a small, bright pumpkin on the floor in front of him. You reached into your bag and grabbed a small knife you had bought. You then got out your phone and opened a screenshot you had taken of the steps on how to make a jack o lantern “okay, first step is to scrape out the insides of the pumpkin” you read out, as you handed him a knife. You placed your phone down beside you and started slicing around the stem of the pumpkin, and surely enough, todoroki followed your lead.

Not before long, the room filled with the sweet scent of pumpkin. As if the two of you were baking a pie and just took it out of a steamy oven. You finished slicing the top of your soon to be Jack o’lantern and picked the top off by the stem, chunks of pumpkin coming out along with it. “Oh….” your boyfriend mumbled upon seeing the overwhelming amount of pumpkin coming out “don't worry, just take them off and place them in the bag” you dragged the plastic bag you had been using to carry your stuff beside the two of you before using your knife to cut and rip off the access pumpkin. “Here, do the same to yours” you said, picking up a pair of gloves you had previously put to the side.

The two of you continued scraping out the insides of your pumpkins. It had been about 10 minutes but you finally scooped out your final piece and placed it in the bag with the rest “done!” you exclaimed, wiping a drop of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You could hear classmates downstairs already debating who was going to have the best jack o’lantern, with a few mentions of the haunted house trip. It was clear they were excited. You glanced over at your boyfriend’s pumpkin. Empty. “I was waiting for you to finish yours.” he said, his usual stoic expression on his face, impossible to read. Not even his eyes would give any hints this time. “Why? You could’ve asked me for the next step! My phone is right there!” you pointed towards your phone, it being right in front the two of you, facing upwards and unlocked. “I wanted to do this with you…” you couldn't help but hold back a giggle at his cute answer, but it was no surprise, considering its the most used reason he has for anything.

You picked up your phone and looked for the next step, “okay, now we need to choose our design” you searched through your gallery for some pictures you had previously saved as inspiration. “Ah here they are! Look!” you nudged you boyfriend, somehow catching more of his attention. You slowly scrolled through the photos, all of them being amazingly good. The orange glow coming from inside of the jack O’lantern, lighting up the bitch black atmosphere. For some of them, you could partly see the candle on the inside, lighting up the picture even more. There were bats, faces, ghosts, words, and everything in between.

It felt like the two of you were scrolling for a while before you came to the end of the photos of inspiration you saved. “Oh, I have an idea!” you said, putting your phone down where it was before “i'm gonna make a cobweb!” your boyfriend looked down at you, looking slightly confused “i didn't see any cobwebs, y/n,” he said. You only now remember who you're doing this with. He’s never celebrated any holidays, let alone participated in Halloween activities, now it's your job to teach and help him enjoy himself. “You don't have to do one of the jack o’lanterns I showed you, those were just for inspiration! You can do whatever you like! Just try to make it Halloween themed.” you watched as the gears turned in his head, despite seeing so many examples he could just copy from, considering he’s so new to this.

“Can i do a cobweb too?” his heterochromatic eyes met yours in an instant, matched with his usual unreadable expression, but you can usually tell when he’s joking.

“Why a cobweb? Did I not show you enough examples to choose from? I can find more-”

“no. i wanna do what you're doing. i already told you this, y/n.” you laughed at his somewhat child-like answer, but there's no denying his answer made your heart flutter. “Okay okay! We can do the cobweb design together!” you watched as todoroki’s usual stoic expression disappeared and was replaced by a sweet smile, something you wished you got to see more often, no matter how many times you've seen it. You did a quick search for cobweb reference, placing your phone back down when you found a simple one to copy from. “Okay, now use this to draw out that shape in your pumpkin.” you handed todoroki a black sharpie before taking out your own, already beginning to start drawing on your own pumpkin.

The next 30 minutes went by in a blur, filled with silence to the point of being able to hear each other's heartbeat, creating a soothing melody able to lull anybody to sleep. You finished up the last details of your pumpkin before snapping out of what seems to be a dream fuelled by concentration. “Does this look good, y/n?” your boyfriend asks, seemingly in desperate need of your validation. You look over at Todoroki’s pumpkin, only to be met with a masterpiece. His pumpkin looked incredibly similar to the photo and would definitely make a very pleasing jack O’lantern. You stared at the pumpkin in awe, ‘how is he so good at everything?’

“y/n?” your boyfriend gave you a gentile shake, bringing your attention back to his slightly saddened features “does it really look that bad? I thought it was okay...”

“w-wait no! It looks really good! I just didn't think it would be that good, ‘cause, you know, this is your first time,” every word that came out of your mouth sounded like you mashed it all into a single one, making it slightly difficult to understand, but your boyfriend understood very well.

He let out a small chuckle, something you were not mentally prepared for, before looking back down at his pumpkin “thank you, y/n.”

You swear your heart skipped more than a single beat, in fact your entire pulse was gone a second. ‘He-he’s so perfect…’

You grabbed a pack of candles from beside you, ripping open and allowing all the small candles inside to fall to the floor. “I don't think we got any matches,” your boyfriend reminds upon seeing the candles that would need to be lit. “We don't need them, we have you.” you replied, taking out two candles and holding them in front of him with pleading eyes, he couldn't refuse. You watched carefully as he set his index finger ablaze, lighting the two candles in your hand. The flames fluttered, causing the lighting around you to flutter along with it. You placed both the candles inside your pumpkins, now the two of you had your Jack O’lanterns.

You got up to turn off the lights, wanting to get the full Jack O’lantern experience. Your room went dark, black even. The Jack O’lanterns glowed, tinting the area around them a bright orange, just like the flames burning inside. Quite the beautiful sight to see. You heard your phone vibrate before the screen turned on with a message. You picked up your phone, the bright screen slightly blinding you;

⚡denki⚡: “hey y/n! Come down now! Were gonna see who has the best Jack O'Lantern!!”

You put your phone in your pocket before picking up your newly made Jack’ O lantern “it's time to judge the other Jack O’ Lanterns now, lets go!” Todoroki got up from the floor, taking his Jack O’ Lantern with him and the two of you made your way down.

“Ah, y/n! Todoroki! Come put your Jack O’Lanterns over here!” Mina joyfully gestured to a table that had been previously set up, everyone else's Jack O’Lanterns sitting on top. You and Todoroki placed your Jack O’Lanterns on the table “okay, now c’mon! We're gonna go to the amusement park now! Don't be slow!!” Mina skipped out the door and you followed close behind.

Half the class was already waiting outside.

The next 3 hours went by~ you and the rest of class A enjoying your time. You dragged your boyfriend across the park, making stops at the rides, food stalls, and finally, the Halloween Haunted house. The wait was long, almost 30 minutes. It was cold, the Autumn breezes coming often. Todoroki used his quirk to keep you warm while you wait, allowing you to borrow his sweater since he didn't need it. He kept his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

He “protected” you from the feared attractions in the Haunted house, as you were hiding behind him as you hear the screams of everyone in front of you. Lights flickered and noises were loud, but after about 10 minutes of walking, you met the end of the haunted house. The winds outside were even more violent than before, yet your boyfriend's sweater battled it off.

You and the rest of class gathered around a big tree behind the Amusement Park. you were able to see everything. The festival lights illuminated the sky, bright yellow, red and orange lights spread everywhere. You lean your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, drowsiness starting to consume you. You could hear Uraraka and Mina’s loud conversation about the Haunted House, pointing out the scariest part of it.

You made yourself comfy underneath your boyfriend’s arm, feeling the warmth emit from his left side. Before he knew it, you had fallen asleep by his side. He pulled you closer, resting his head on yours

“Thank you, y/n...Happy Halloween.”

#Seasonal Love Event #server events #mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki fluff #shouto fluff #shouto #todoroki #shouto todoroki

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