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bellakitse · 5 years ago

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Driving alone, following your form

Day 2 Fic prompt : Distance @michaelguerinweek

Michael leaves Roswell two weeks after they bring Max back to life. That's how long he manages to give his siblings before the sinking feeling that has surrounded him for the last seven months takes over him again.

He’s been drowning since Caulfield prison, Rosa coming back like a living ghost of all their sins, Max dead on a cave floor, and Alex.

Always Alex.

Alex who left time and time again but refused to leave at the prison, willing to die for him. Alex who gave him one absolutely crushed look when he found him at the Wild Pony with Maria and then shifted to his military persona in a blink of an eye, doing everything in his power to give him and Isobel back their brother.

It's ridiculous that with everything they all been through the last seven months, what has him the most in knots is Alex Manes, but when has that ever not been the case.

Aliens, secrets about a dead girl, murderous brother-in-law’s and in the end the first and last thought of every day for Michael still comes down to Alex. His anger, his resentment, his pain but most of all his all-encompassing love for the man.

He and Maria last exactly one kiss and one song, the look on Alex's face when he found them together still haunts the little sleep he manages to get.

So, he goes, quietly in the darkness of night. He leaves his siblings a note, telling them that he needs to go for a while, clear his head because he feels like a powder keg about to explode and if he does, he doesn't want them caught in the fallout. He asks they don't call him.

Isobel texts him hours after he's out of Roswell.

'You're an asshole, we love you, be safe.'

He lets out a noise when he reads it; half laugh, half sob, grateful for the understanding he doesn’t deserve. He’s put Isobel through the wringer during the months that Max slept in his pod. He should have been a better brother, and he promises himself as soon as he has his head on straight again, he’ll do exactly that.

On a whim he also leaves a note for Alex, telling him pretty much the same. He’s a mess and that he needs to go for a while. That he’s always loved him and that he’s sorry. He hopes that it’s enough but isn’t sure.

During the months they all worked on bringing Max back, Alex was there every step of the way, supporting Liz, being there for Isobel, being their access point to what the military knew. He risked his life and his career more than once to get them the information they needed. He worked side by side with Michael and never once brought ‘them’ up in conversation. A part of Michael was thankful for the reprieve, knowing that he wasn’t in the headspace to deal with everything Alex means to him. However, every time they didn’t talk about the elephant in the room the distance between them seemed to expand and Michael wonders; fears that there’s maybe too much damage, too much hurt on both sides. That maybe too much of everything has chipped away at their love.

He prays to a God he doesn’t believe in, that that’s not the case. He hopes as the miles between him and Roswell grow; that leaving will serve as a balm to the open wounds they both carry.

He has no plan, no map, no destination in mind for the first week, he drives his truck down main highways, taking exits and then back roads on a whim. He starts north, crossing Colorado without even stopping until he arrives at Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Stopping here and there in the picturesque town, grabbing some food and information before getting back in his truck and driving towards Grand Teton National Park. It’s the afternoon, later than when people usually get to the park but there are still families and groups around probably ready to call it a day if they aren’t sleeping onsite. Some make eye contact and even nod in his direction, but no one bothers him as he takes his camping equipment and starts to make his way up the trail to Lake Jenny where he’s decided to spend the night.

That night he sits outside his tent looking up at a starry sky that reflects on the still waters of the lake, and his only thought is how much Alex would love to see it. He takes a picture that comes out better than expected and he begrudgingly thanks Isobel for nagging him into updating his phone. He texts the photo to Alex before he can start to doubt himself, his heart beating fast when he sees ‘read’ on the message, he waits to see if Alex will text anything back. The seconds turn to minutes, and he shakes his head, calling himself an idiot. What exactly does he expect Alex to say to a damn picture?

He sits there wishing he had something to drink, Whiskey, a beer, definitely some acetone, but he’s made a commitment to himself to slow the fuck down, and he’s going to keep it. When his phone buzzes in his loose hold it startles him so much, he almost drops it.

It says: ‘That’s beautiful.’

It’s not much, but it still feels like an olive branch, and it helps loosen some of the tightness in his chest. He holds his breath as he sees little bubbles appear on the text indicating that Alex is writing. It stops and starts a couple of times, and Michael feels a stab of sympathy for Alex being at a loss for words. Finally, a text comes through.

‘Are you okay?’

Michael lets out a small, humorless laugh because the obvious answer to that is no. He’s not okay. He’s an alien, his brother died and came back to life, he watched his mother die in front of him, he loves a man more than anything in his life, and he can’t manage to get it right with him, and he’s currently running away from all of that like a child running away from home.

He starts to write without pause, lets every random, not so great thought that has circled his head pour out of him. That he’s never felt at home here and resents Isobel and Max for feeling differently, how he loves Max and is so grateful for having him back but resents him for playing god in the first place, for healing his hand without permission.

There are more little bubbles after he presses send on his small meltdown.

‘Feel better?’

Michael snorts, the question feels a little sarcastic and knowing Alex it probably was, surprisingly it does make him feel better, and he answers as much.

‘Good, I’m glad.’

Michael's thumbs hover over the keyboard, hesitating on whether he should ask or not, writing back he promises himself that if the answer is no, he won’t take it personally, he’s not the only one trying to heal here.

‘Can I keep texting you?’

He doesn’t have time to work himself up; Alex’s answer comes back fast.

‘I’ll be here.’

Michael can’t help the small smile it brings to his lips. That night he sleeps better than he has in months.

He hits the road again a day later, flipping a coin to see if he should keep heading north or turn east. Tails have it, and he heads into Nebraska and sees a lot of corn, a lot. When he tells Alex this on their now nightly communication, he gets pure sass in return.

'It’s the Cornhusker State, Guerin, what did you expect?'

The answer is so Alex that it makes his ridiculous heart do a funny jump. He treats Alex to a picture of the cornfields at sunset and Alex answers back with: 'I wish I could be there.'

Any chance of his heart settling down after that is hopeless; it beats hard against his chest as he answers back.

'Me too.'

Alex doesn't say anything after that, and Michael doesn't either; at peace with the exchange. Where before he would have seen the silence as Alex retreating, he's starting to understand that the last few months hasn’t been Alex distancing himself from Michael because he doesn't love him anymore. He's been trying to give Michael space to find his footing again after having the rug pulled from under his feet again and again. The damage that before seemed unfixable between them is slowly starting to mend with every text they share. He doesn't know if it's because they aren't facing each other and therefore don't have sex to fall back on or because quietly they both know what's really at stake for the first time, but they're talking in a way they never have before.

Alex hadn't been exaggerating when he said they loved each other without ever really talking and now that they are, Michael wants to know more. So, he asks questions without fear, in between driving, in-between states as he heads into Kansas and Missouri, crosses through Oklahoma to get to Texas. He texts and sends pictures; Alex answers and sends of few pictures of his own. The one of Isobel looking through dresses, her back to the camera has him raising an eyebrow. When he asks about that, he gets back:

'We've become close.'

It makes him smile, he likes the idea that Isobel and Alex have become friends, and he remembers the Max-less months how more than once Alex could be found next to Isobel, protective in his stance. Still knowing his sister and knowing Alex an alliance between them does send a shiver of nervousness down his spine.

‘Should I be scared?’

He gets back ‘Terrified’ and it makes him laugh, it’s followed with a selfie of Isobel and Alex, straight-faced, the hint of a smirk on both their faces and it squeezes his heart to see the two people he loves the most together.

He makes his way through Texas and stops in Hays County to get to the Dripping Springs; he sends a quick picture of the place to Alex, and he doesn’t have to wait long for a response.

‘That’s 500 miles from Roswell.’

Michael swallows hard because yes, he knows that. If he leaves now, he could be back in Roswell in about eight hours, take the US-87 N and US-380 W, and he’d be back home. But he’s not ready, he’s close, he’s better, but he’s not there yet. He tells Alex and holds his breath when he sees that Alex is texting back.

‘Okay, no rush. I’ll be here when you’re ready.’

He has to sit down at that answer and just breathe and keep on breathing. There has been a part of him, a part that has gotten smaller and quieter, but still there that has been whispering in his ear that maybe once he’s ready, Alex won’t be there. After all, isn’t that what he did to Alex when he was ready? He ran away and towards someone else, he realizes now out of fear. He’d gotten so used to Alex walking away, that he didn’t know what to do when Alex was standing in front of him, telling him that he wasn’t leaving anymore, that Michael is where he wanted to be. He ran.

He does cross into New Mexico but doesn’t stop until he hits Arizona. There he goes to The Grand Canyon, and it’s breathtaking at sunrise.

‘If I ask, will you come here with me someday?’

‘I’ll go with you wherever and whenever you ask, Michael.’

Michael sits on a massive boulder, his feet dangling, the morning sun hitting his face with a stunning view in front of him but all he can do is stare at Alex’s message and the significance of his name.

When he texts back, there is no more fear.

‘I haven’t looked away.’

‘Neither have I and I never will.’

If he cries for a while; the last remnants of his pain finally releasing him. If he cries because he’s finally within reach of what he has so desperately wanted since he was seventeen, no one’s around to watch. From there he knows what he wants, what he’s always wanted. He shoots Alex a text with coordinates and the time it will take him to get there as he enters California, he doesn’t get an answer back, but he doesn’t worry as he drives through Death Valley up to Yosemite, getting there as it starts to get dark.

He pulls into the campgrounds where there are other cars gathered, but he only notices one, or better yet, the man leaning against the car. Parking across Alex’s rental, he takes him in as the headlights of his truck illuminate him like a halo of light around him.

Alex has always been beautiful, he was beautiful back in high school with his emo punk clothes, he’s beautiful in his Air Force uniform, and everything in between, he’s beautiful now as he combines the boy he was and the man he is.

But after traveling for weeks on end with only a picture of the man he loves, looking at Alex now, he’s never been more breathtaking.

“You made good time,” he says as he gets out of his truck and walks over to him.

Alex gives him a small serene smile. “You took the long way; I took a plane.”

“I bet my view was better,” Michael teases.

Alex nods. “I have no doubt.”

“I’ll show it to you someday,” Michael blurts out, wincing at the volume of his voice. “Sorry, I’m nervous I guess.”

Alex looks at him, studies him in that Alex way of his, his expression softening. “Can I?” he asks quietly, his arms open. Michael doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps into Alex’s space and holds on as Alex’s arms circle him, his hold strong and comforting.

“I missed you,” Alex whispers into his neck and Michael answers by tightening his arms around him. They stay wrapped in each other for a while before Michael pulls back.

“Come on,” he says, taking Alex’s hand in his, leading him back to his truck to grab his gear. “I called ahead and reserved the spot we’re camping in,” he continues, heading up the trail the girl at the desk told him about.

It doesn’t take them long to get set up. At this point Michael is a pro at putting up his tent, it’ll be close quarters with Alex here, but given that they haven’t stopped holding each other since they laid down on one of his blankets staring at the sky, he doesn’t think either of them is going to complain.

“I’ve stared at the sky for weeks now,” Michael says quietly, not wanting to ruin the peace around them.

“I don’t blame you,” Alex says just as softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“I have been looking at the stars, searching for my home,” he continues, swallowing hard as he feels Alex tense up. He doesn’t stop him when he pulls away to sit up. Alex is quiet for a moment, his gaze upward.

“Did you find it?” he finally asks, looking back at Michael, the light of the night reflecting in his eyes like amber.

Michael nods and places a shaky hand over Alex’s chest. “Right here,” he says, tapping on Alex’s heart. “If I’m allowed in again.”

Alex lets out a watery laugh and a tear rolls down the side of his face, but the smile he gives Michael is wide, and the love that shines through his expression warms Michael more than the Roswell sun. “That implies that you ever left, Michael,” He answers, and it’s Michael's turn to cry as a sob passes his lips. Alex's hands cradle the back of his neck, and he presses his forehead against Michael’s. “And you have never, not for one second left my heart,” Alex continues, shushing him softly as Michael cries. “It’s yours, Michael, it’s yours.”

The first kiss they share in over nine months is salty from their tears, but as Alex holds him, as he whispers, he loves him, and Michael whispers it back, a sky full of stars above them and a future full of possibilities ahead of them, it’s utterly sweet.

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #click on the links to see the places michael visits

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callahanisms · 2 years ago

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visitation of the bard - pt. 2

pairing: eddie munson x gn! reader warning(s): mild violence notes: the second part to my fic, visitation of the bard. this takes place in a medieval au. for the ✨vibes✨ of this part, i recommend listening to the following bardcore covers: “barbie girl,” “somebody i used to know,” and “love story” (the last one especially at the banquet scene to the end). i’m also extra so i made a youtube playlist of the songs i listened to while writing the fic. word count: 3.4k words

ao3 link: visitation of the bard by vanagloriah

like this fic and feeling generous? leave a tip on ko-fi!

“Good morning, my liege.”

You groaned, covering your face with your blanket. The sun was so bright. Why was it so bright? Was it always this bright? Your body felt quite sore. You didn’t want to get out of bed and move. You could already feel the exhaustion from the day’s events even if they haven’t started yet. “Please no…” You mutter before feeling the blanket be ripped from your grip. Harper was always strong.

“Good morning, my liege! Late night?” They ask with their eyebrows raised.

“No…”

“Really now?” Harper smirks.

“Fine. You got me.”

“Of course I do.”

You sit up. You felt like a zombie, like someone who wasn’t supposed to be walking around. You shouldn’t have been out so late. “So are you going to talk? What did you do last night?” Harper asks, pulling your clothes out for the day.

“I…It’s hard to explain.”

“I see. Well, did you at least find the bard?”

You hesitated if you should answer that, if you should say yes or no. If you should bring up that the two of you went out into the forest and shared an intimate moment together that was filled with romance, that you fell asleep listening to the soft hum of his lute, that you learned his name and that he felt oddly familiar to you. It felt like you had met him before. But where? Where had you seen those eyes? That smile? You felt feelings deep inside of you stir. Something was amiss. It was as if there was a veil of smoke in your mind, preventing you from truly remembering what it was. It was on the tip of your tongue! Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Why did that name sound so familiar? Maybe if you knew the house he came from, his family’s name, then it would click in your head. “I…did.”

Harper notices your hesitation and the tension in your voice. “Did something happen?” Their face grows concerned.

“No. Nothing happened.” You smile. “He was…sweet and kind and talented and funny. Mysterious he was. We…We were alone in the forest.”

Harper gasps. “My liege!” They exclaim. You could see them get secondhand embarrassment from you.

“I know. How…improper of me, to be alone with a man. A bard nonetheless! Their reputations precede them all too well.” You play with your hands. “But he was so captivating. So…handsome, beautiful. I don’t think any person comes close to his charm and charisma. And his laugh! It was hearty, full of joy. He was a man without care. And he’s just that! A man. There’s nothing special about him or his music! He is a human man without the power of a divine being or mythical creatures by his side. He does travel with a knight and his squire.”

“It appears my liege is quite whipped for this bard.” Harper giggles. “You speak as if you had encountered a cherubim yourself!”

“Yes. Maybe. But there is something bothering me.” You shake your head. “I remember him. Or well…I don’t. But there was a feeling of familiarity when I saw him! And yet, I cannot recount a single thing about him! His name sounds familiar too. And he refused to answer my questions.” You scoff at the memory. “Nevertheless, I am at a loss for words!”

“Well, my liege, I’m happy you feel that way. We must, however, start your day. You have lessons with Robin, a midday meal with Lady Nancy and Lord Michael of House Wheeler, your afternoon lessons with Sir Kline, and then a banquet—”

“Banquet!” You exclaim. “What? Why?”

“Because it is your birthday? You are turning 20. And your father has invited plenty of people to come woo you.”

Your face falls. “I see…” You only wanted one person to woo you: Eddie the Bard.

“Well we must get ready. Come on now!”

~~~

“You appear to be particularly aggravated today my liege.” Sir Kline easily parried your lunges and strikes.

“It’s complicated.” You add more force to the strike. He counters.

“Is it about tonight’s banquet?”

“Yes!” You lunge again and he counters. “I cannot believe it! The audacity of my father to arrange suitors for me! When I do not want any of them! Man, woman, person, otherwise! There is only one person I would allow to court me!”

“Oh? Has the liege met someone?” He raises an eyebrow at the thought. “I wondered what happened when you went out. You did go out, yes?”

You stop moving, panting and trying to catch your breath. “I did.”

“Did you meet this bard?”

“I met him, yes.”

“Him?” He raises his eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“Sir Kline, please.” You wave your hand. “Nothing happened.”

“Really? Did nothing really happen?”

“I mean, aside from him serenading me and me…enjoying myself,” You shrug. “It was nice.”

“Was he what his reputation made him out to be?”

You purse your lips. “No. Not at all. He was…” You were trying to find the words. “Romantic. Chivalrous. A gentleman.”

He nods along. “It sounds like you had a good experience, my liege.”

~~~

Robin hummed to herself as she walked around the cauldron, adding a few more ingredients to the pots. She adored the smell that came from the pot. It already calmed her nerves and her mind felt clearer. “This is great. Once this batch is done I can sell it—”

You bursted through the door. “ROBIN!”

“Ah!” The woman fell down, taking a stool with her. “(Y/N)—I mean, my liege! Do NOT barge in like that!” She stood up and picked up the stool before sitting, leaning her back against the table. “Don’t you have something to do—”

“No! I don’t!” You close the door behind yourself. “Anyways, remember last month’s lessons?”

“Ummm…No. I don’t. Because I’m busy doing other things and the lessons are at the back of the mind.”

“What?”

“I prepare them way ahead in advance and I just follow the schedule. I mostly teach you so I can save up money.”

“Okay. Whatever.” You go back to the door to make sure it’s locked. Robin gives you a weird look. “We learned about certain herbs and their properties. And some of them are said to be hailed from myth where the myth says they have powerful properties like…prophetic properties.”

“My liege, those are just myths and legends. There is no basis in reality—”

“Some of them are used for prayers! And-and for rehabilitation!” You snapped your fingers. “One in particular is said to help with a foggy memory!”

“Are you…suffering from a foggy mind, my liege?” Robin raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. Yes I am. See, I met the bard yesterday. You know this already. But what I failed to communicate was that he seemed…awfully familiar, like I knew him. Like I’ve seen him before, been with him before. The place where he took me in the forest felt very familiar too! Like I’ve been there before. But I just can’t remember anything.”

“I see. Anything I can do to help, liege.” Robin smiles. “I should have something for you.” She stands up and begins rummaging around the table, looking through the containers. It took her some time before she eventually found it. “Here we are. This herb should help.” She presented it to you.

“I’m guessing I just eat it right?” You take it in your hand. It smelled very…strong.

“Actually it’s best to—(Y/N)!” She exclaims as she watches you shove the herb in your mouth. “No! No, no, no, NO!”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You shrug.

~~~

Robin waited outside, leaning against the wall. She listened to the sounds of you retching up whatever food you had eaten earlier in the day. You weren’t supposed to eat it because the herb’s purpose was to help detoxify the body by way of vomiting. Alas, you were more inclined to trust your intrusive thoughts than to listen to your friend. Robin watched as you came out. “Better now?”

“Yeah.” You felt slightly woozy.

“Come on. We’ll consume the herb the right way.”

Robin boils some water and adds the herb into it, letting it steep. You wait patiently as you watch her pour the liquid into a cup. When you take it, you take in the strong aroma of the drink. It felt soothing and smelled like rosemary. It was warm and comforting. “Alright. You’re supposed to drink it but slowly. Take in the scent while you drink it because the smell will aid in the clearing of the mind fog—(Y/N)!”

You decided it was best to swallow it all in one go like a cup of ale. “Little bit hot on the tongue.” You set the cup down. “Tastes pretty good though.”

Robin sighs. “Now we wait.”

You sat in your seat, waiting for something to happen. You didn’t feel any different and your mind certainly did not feel cleared up. You thought back to Eddie, his smile and his laugh, the way his hand felt when you held it and the gentleness of his voice. He was familiar. Something deep down inside of you recognized him. But you didn’t know from where. It was unnatural to be feeling this way about a man you had just met. You were bothered though and you wanted to figure everything out as soon as possible. “I feel…nothing.”

“Huh. I guess it might just be an old wives’ tale. Or maybe there’s something else put in the tea with religious people.” Robin shook her head.

“I guess.” You hop off the stool and stand before your mind suddenly feels heavy. Your vision begins to blur and your body doesn’t move. You feel yourself falling and all you can hear is Robin screaming your name as you black out.

~~~

You were 5 years old.

You wanted to know why you couldn’t leave the palace and go exploring. Your father said no. He seemed somber. Did it have something to do with your mother’s death? You were simply confused. He didn’t seem to budge though and you resigned yourself to sitting at the stables and petting the horses. It was as close to the outside as you could get. “It just isn’t fair, Holland.” You pout as you stroke your pony’s mane. Holland makes a noise in response, nudging their head against your hand. “Why can’t I go outside? Maybe if I had someone go with me then father would let me. Like Sir Kline!” Your excitement died down. “Who am I kidding?”

“What has you down my liege?” A voice chimes.

You lift your head to see a young boy about your age. He looks slightly older though. Maybe by a year or two. His brown hair is cut short but you could make out that his hair is slightly wavy. He’s quite cute actually. “My father will not let me outside. And I doubt anyone would rebel against his wishes so I can leave and see the town and the forest.” You huff.

“Sounds quite tyrannical, my liege.” He jokes. It gets a small laugh from you.

“I would need protection if I were to leave. A knight maybe.”

“Fear not, my liege! For I can provide such a thing!” He puffs his chest out.

“But you’re just a boy.”

“Not any boy!” He bows. “Edward of House Munson, my liege. My father is Julian of House Munson and my uncle Wayne of House Munson. We are a house of honored knights.” He offers his hand. You look wary but nevertheless, place your own in his. He presses his lips to your knuckles before pulling it away. “I am at your service, my liege.”

“Are you even knighted though? You’re far too young to be a knight.” You ask.

“I have not been knighted yet nor am I a squire. But I can guarantee that I can protect you!” He smiles.

You smile back. “Your enthusiasm is infectious, dear Edward.”

“Give me a second and I’ll be back!” He scurried off and you watched inquisitively. What was going to happen?

Eventually, he came back with Sir Kline. He told you that he managed to get Sir Kline to convince your father to allow you to go visit the town. You would just be under the watchful eye of Sir Kline. Edward had pulled through for you when no one else could. Of course you had to invite him and ask him to show you around.

~~~

You were 8 years old.

Practicing the art of sword fighting was a lot harder than it looked. Of course, as you grew older and your strength grew, you would be able to carry heavier swords and weapons. But for now, you remained with a rather light sword. Edward was swinging hard. Normally he went easy on you considering he was much more advanced in the art. There was clearly something bothering him though and he was releasing the steam through sparring. “Is everything alright Edward?” You ask.

“It’s…It’s nothing.” He shakes his head.

“Oh come on. What’s bothering you?” You frown. “You can talk to me.”

Edward purses his lips. “Well…you are aware of the things that happened with my father, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Essentially, he has dishonored my family’s name and legacy. It is up to me to fix it because he ran away and fled the kingdom.” He sighs. “I still have the chance to be knighted. My uncle however is content with no longer being a knight.”

“Why is that?”

“He says his true passion in life is music. He loves playing the lute. Actually, he started teaching me how to play because I was interested. It’s good to have hobbies. I’m just not sure if I’m capable of becoming a knight.”

You laugh. “What? What’s so funny?” He exclaims.

“It’s just strange. I’ve never seen you be so…unsure of yourself.” You smile reassuringly. “You will be an amazing knight! And I’ll be sure to be the one to knight you when the time comes!”

~~~

You were 10 years old.

“We’re almost there!” Edward has a massive smile on his face as he holds your hand. It feels nice, feels warm. You feel safe whenever you’re around him. The two of you emerge from the forest to a lake. The water was dark and murky but there was nothing mysterious about it. You were here with Edward after all. He would protect you from the dangers of the world. He would always be by your side.

“It’s very pretty here Edward.” You say.

“I know. And we’ll be able to be here alone.” He removes his cloak and sets it down on the ground. “After you my liege.”

The two of you sit together and talk. There’s no other sound aside from the wind and the occasional hoot of an owl. You couldn’t be bothered with them though. What mattered most is that you were here, with Edward. Alone. At one point, he appeared to be lost in thought and he was silent for a while. “Edward? Are you okay?”

“My liege…No, (Y/N).” He looks at you intently. There’s something different about him. His eyes hold something. Was it desire? Warmth? Or could it be…love? “I must confess something to you.”

“Oh.” Your face grew hot. “Of course Edward. What is it?”

He takes a deep breath before gently taking your hands. “I…You have enamored me, my liege. For the past year or so. I cannot help but feel a burning passion for you. My passion burns brighter than the stars, brighter than the flames of the divine. And I believe I will fight everyone for you, slay every monster for you, travel to the end of the world and back! You have captivated me and I…I want to court you.” His cheeks become pink. “Not now! But when I become knighted, I will officially court you my liege. If you will accept?”

“Edward…” Your face was burning hot now. All the blood had rushed to your cheeks. Your lips trembled and so did your hands. He squeezes your hands gently, as if to calm you. “I—”

“I understand if you do not accept. And I promise to take it in stride.”

“Edward,” You say. “I accept.” You were beaming. “I accept! I accept!”

“You do? That’s…That’s wonderful!” He exclaims. “May I…May I kiss you, my liege?”

You gasp. “On the lips?”

“Where else?”

You nod. “You may.”

Edward leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips. The warmth spreads like a fire and all over your face. There is nothing more romantic than this. Your first kiss, under the moonlight by a lake. You pull away, looking deep into his eyes. There was nothing but love in them. “In ten years,” You say. “In ten years, we shall marry. By then, you would have been knighted and restored your family’s honor.” Your grip on his hands tighten. “We shall wed Edward when I turn twenty.”

“Yes,” He removes his hands from yours, plucking a flower from the ground. You watch with excitement as he ties the flower around your ring finger on your left hand. “We shall.”

You sigh dreamily, thinking about how grand your wedding would be. “The bells will be ringing all day!”

“So they shall.”

You opened your mouth to say something only to feel a sudden wisp of air. An arrow lands next to you, piercing through the fabric of Edward’s cloak. Your cheek stings and you feel a warm liquid run down your face. Your breath and pulse quicken as the two of you are surrounded. Suddenly, the world feels light. All sound is blocked out. You see Edward’s mouth open, screaming something. He helps you up and tears his cloak from the ground, the fabric ripping through it slightly. Everything feels like a blur. This doesn’t feel real. It wasn’t real right? It couldn’t have been, being ambushed by smugglers. You don’t know what happened. You just remember lots of screaming, some blood, lots of pain, and eventually you fighting your way out of the grasp of a smuggler and trying to run, only to trip over your own feet and for your head to hit something, hard. A rock probably.

~~~

You’re suddenly met with the ceiling. It felt familiar. This was your room of course. You could hear quiet shouting and your eyes glance over to see Lady Nancy scolding her brother. “What were you thinking! You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“Listen! If me and Robin didn’t follow them, then (Y/N) may be gone now! We’re lucky we all made it out in one piece!” He exclaimed.

You lift up your left hand, seeing a flower tied around your finger. How peculiar. Why was it there? And who put it on you? You removed it and tossed it onto the floor of your room. “Lady Nancy? Lord Michael?” You groan as you sit up.

“Oh (Y/N).” Nancy lets out a breath of relief. It seemed like she was holding it in. “You’re awake.”

You blink. “I have to see father.” You say.

“No. You’re supposed to stay in bed—”

But you had already gotten out and began walking, not knowing you had stepped on the flower. You roamed the hallways for a bit, trying to find your father’s office. It took some time, but eventually you found it. The door was ajar and it sounded like…he was yelling? Your father never yelled. Peering through the gap, you saw a boy about your age with brown hair. His posture was straight. He seemed familiar and yet, you could not put a name to his face. You could only listen, hearing your father say that the boy has dishonored his family beyond comprehension. A hand gently lands on your shoulder and you jump. You let out a breath of relief seeing it was Robin. She had wrappings over what you presumed to be her wounds. “Come, my liege. Let’s get you back to your room.” She whispers. “You’ll worry Lady Nancy too much.”

The two of you begin to walk away. Before you leave, you could make out one final statement.

“Edward of House Munson, you will be banished from this kingdom for the rest of your days!”

Who was this Edward of House Munson?

~~~

“What did you do?” A voice asks.

“I didn’t do anything! I just gave my liege some tea to help with mind fog and then they faint! How is it my fault?” The voice answers. It’s Robin’s voice.

You groan and your eyes flutter open. “Learn to keep it down.”

“Oh my liege!” Robin lets out a sigh of relief as you sit up. You see that the person she was talking to was none other than Lord Michael of House Wheeler. “We were so worried!”

“Everyone is.” Michael looks at you. “They’re wondering if something bad happened to you or if you fell ill.”

“I’m…I’m not ill.” You shake your head.

“Well great! Then it means the banquet can officially start.” Mike smiles. “We will leave you.”

“Okay. Sure.” You watch as they leave before Harper comes through the door. “Harper—”

“My liege!” Harper crosses their arms. “You! You had all of us worried!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I just took some…medicine.”

“Bad medicine.” Harper huffs. “Come now! Let’s get dressed!”

~~~

The suitors were truly…not special. Many of them were knights, asking to court you. You were not entertained however. Your mind kept drifting back to the memories that played while you were sleeping. Edward…Edward of House Munson. He felt familiar. He looked familiar. He reminded you of Eddie actually. Could they be the same person? You shook your head. How could they be the same person? Edward was a determined boy who wanted to clean up his family’s legacy. Eddie was a bard who sang and traveled continuously with a child and another knight. They could not be the same person. Nor could they be related. “Excuse me father. I must stretch my legs.” You stand and walk around for a bit. You just need to clear some thoughts is all—

“Ah! (Y/N)!” A voice chimes.

You turn around and notice a familiar face. “Dustin?”

“Yes! It’s me!” He smiles.

You look around. “What…are you doing here? Are you supposed to be here? And how did you recognize me?”

“Well I was actually invited. I got the letter quite late so we turned around to arrive and get dressed properly.”

“Invited by who?”

“My lady. The one I told you about.” You raise your eyebrow. “You know her. Lady Susie of House Bingham.”

“Oh.” The Binghams had a good reputation. Aside from their child Eden, who had a bit of a spotty reputation. But you wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t true. After all, Eddie’s reputation did not match the man he was. “I see. Wait, then where’s—”

Dustin points. “There’s Steve.” The knight is sitting besides Lady Nancy, Robin, and the artist Jonathan. The four of them seem engrossed in their conversation. “He’s catching up.”

“Okay. What about Eddie? Where is he?” You ask.

“He said something about seeing his Uncle Wayne and that he would be running a bit late.” He smiles.

A girl comes up to you both. “My liege.” Susie bows. “Come Dustin! We mustn’t bother the liege.”

“Of course.” Dustin bows. “Thank you for entertaining me, liege.”

You watch as the two of them walk away, talking to each other enthusiastically. You smile. Young love. There was nothing like it. And then it clicked in your head. Eddie. Edward of House Munson. They had to be the same person! Dustin just mentioned that Eddie was visiting his uncle. There was only one person you knew that had an uncle named Wayne.

~~~

You hurry back to your own seat, sitting back down comfortably. The banquet is a standard one, with many people giving you their birthday wishes and your father telling you how much he loves you. However, the hall goes quiet as a man enters the room. He’s wearing a black cloak and his wavy hair reaches his shoulders. He’s holding a lute made of dark wood and his black boots are worn out. Your breath hitches in your throat. Eddie.

He walks with an air of confidence but you could tell by his footsteps that he seems nervous, wary even. He bows before the both of you. “My king. I know I am only a mere bard,” He starts. “But please, would you make a bard happy by letting him sing a song for the liege’s birthday?” His eyes stop on you. Even from afar, you could see that there was love in his eyes, and recognition.

“Very well.” Your father nods.

Eddie smiles up at you. He tunes his lute first before beginning the song. It’s clear to you it’s a love song, a love ballad. And unlike the other ballads of love you’ve listened to, this one feels sincere. There’s something raw about the melody, something that reaches deep inside your soul and makes you remember the feeling of his lips on yours, the way he held your hands, how he would go far and beyond for you. How he promised to fight for you and did. You feel all your sorrows melt away as you listen to his song, his love song. The melody is slow and picks every so often. It’s calming and he grabs the attention of everyone in the room. They listen with just as much intent as you. Your heart pounds against your chest and it hurts. It hurts because you have been far from him for too long. Edward of House Munson had been banished. And despite that, he returned. He returned for you. And he promised you last night that he would come back.

His song comes to a close, causing everyone in attendance to erupt into applause. Truly, it was nothing like they’ve ever heard before and nothing like what the rumors made him out to be. Eddie takes a bow before standing straight. The room quiets as you stand and descend from your seat. “Edward.” You say. “Edward of House Munson…”

The people look around and whisper to each other. Your father straightens his back and leans forward. Eddie looks around and laughs nervously. “I…actually prefer to be called Eddie, my liege.” He smiles. “Have I…wooed you?”

You stop in front of him and look deep into his eyes. Your own glance to his free hand. “Eddie the Bard.” You say. Your hand takes his. “You have wooed me.” You pull him along before he could react. You need to take him somewhere private, somewhere where the two of you can be alone and for no one to interrupt you.

~~~

You reach a balcony where the moonlight can touch both you and Eddie. You take a moment to catch your breath before looking up at him. “Why?” You ask.

“Why what?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Why were you going to leave? Before my birthday.” You purse your lips.

“Well…I saw that you didn’t recognize me.” He says. “And…it hurt. After all, I returned to this kingdom every year around the time of your birthday, hoping you would sneak out and I would see you and we could be reunited.” He smiles. “But I figured it would be for the best to leave you be, you know.”

“Why didn’t you answer my questions? Or tell me while we were at the lake? You could’ve easily told me the truth! Everything!”

“Well I think, personally, it looks suspicious. I mean, you didn’t recognize me or anything. And I would run away if a random man came up to me and started spilling secrets about my youth.” He smiles slightly.

“Okay. You have a point. I didn’t even remember you existed until today actually!” You sigh. “I drank some herbs to help clear brain fog. And…I guess my mind blocked out what happened. And even you…”” You shake your head. “I don’t know how that happened. A spell maybe?”

“I doubt it. It must’ve been stress. We were only…ten and twelve at the time?”

“That’s also true.” You look up at him. “I…After last night, I could not shake off this feeling of familiarity. Like I knew you. Like I knew that place you took me to. And I do know! Now I know.” You gently hold his hands and you think back to the flower on your ring finger, the flower ring. “Now I know why I felt so strongly with you.” You could feel your eyes water. “It’s because…” You look up at him and deep into his eyes. “It’s because I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since that day at the lake! I knew it deep, deep down. I just couldn’t remember!”

Eddie smiles and pulls you closer to his body. “It’s alright.” He chuckles. “I forgive you.”

You let out a small laugh, a few tears falling down your cheeks. He lifts up a hand to wipe them away. “Do not cry my liege. For I am here now.” He says.

“I’m sure I can get my father to undo your banishment.” You mutter.

“That is something for another day. It is your birthday, is it not?”

“It is.”

Eddie’s smile widens. His eyes are full of love. “The song I played is a love song. But I’m sure you knew that. I wrote it for you. It’s gone through many, many revisions since I’ve first written it. I had planned to play it for you on our wedding day.”

You laugh. “It should’ve been today.”

“Life is…complicated. But it brought us back together, right?”

“Yes. Yes it did.” You lean forward.

Eddie meets you in the middle, kissing you deeply. His lips on yours felt right and your hands in his were also right. Everything about him was right. The way he held you close, the way he kissed you, the way he gently reassured you with his words, the way he crafted a beautiful love ballad for you. Under the moonlight, it was just the two of you. It shined on your faces, illuminating the love between you two displayed through your body language. You weren’t one to ask for presents. This was beyond a present. It had to be a gift from a divine being of some sort. Your childhood dreams would come true. You would be able to marry soon, after Eddie’s banishment status was undone. He had traveled the world and back to find you. He came back to the very kingdom where he was banished from so he could woo you and eventually wed you.

It was a love story for the ages.

#stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things medieval au #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x male! reader #eddie munson x fem! reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #larry kline

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thenextchapter22 · 4 years ago

Text

PART SIX!!

Description: You were an Angel who went to the human world to escape punishment for loving Lucifer only to be brought back into his life, this time in the Devildom where you pretend to be human.

In this chapter: You are back at the HOL...

Tags: Unrequited Love, Fluff, Angst, WIP

Pairing(s): Lucifer/Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: It’s been a month and my hiatus is over now, so please enjoy this next part!! Love you guys so much ~~

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

_+_

Being back in the House of Lamentation was a little strange. After a few extra days at Diavolo’s in that admittedly larger bedroom than yours, Lucifer had taken you back home. He bid you a quick farewell, a single hug and hair ruffling with his smirk, before he said he had duties to attend to. And things seemed back to normal with that. It was a little anticlimactic but…

Home. This was your home. Lord Diavolo gave you, an Angel (and were you still technically one, without your halo? Only wings and some leftover magic?), permission to live in the Devildom. A place for Demons, not… you. He called you ‘family’. Even Barbatos, when leaving the Castle, had smiled at you and given you a happy goodbye and an invite to tea whenever you’d like.

“Your company is always welcome,” the demon butler had said.

You stood just outside your doorway, as if turning the handle would transport you somewhere else. Maybe this was a dream. It was all too surreal to have actually happened.

Once you were inside, barely two steps in the bedroom, an invisible weight lifted off you. This was where you spent your nights, either totally alone and at peace, or with your housemates to keep you company. Studying with Satan or reading a novel and talking about the characters while sitting in your bed, or watching DevilTube with Mammon and laughing at the rom-coms because he was a sucker for those. If Asmo came back late from a party or if he was lonely and needing cuddles, you both would stay up late gossiping about everyone, and you would hear funny stories about Solomon or the brothers. When Levi would come out of his cave, and bring his handheld games, and you would battle each other for hours (you usually won only a few times but it was still fun). Eating midnight snacks you and Beel snuck out from the kitchen, waking up with crumbs in your bed and a different demon boy in your bed, Belphie, who was cuddling you and mumbling in his sleep, warm and soft, like the twins had traded you off.

The only demon brother who never came in your room was Lucifer… That man was always in his own bedroom, up late doing paperwork or wandering around doing things for Diavolo. He overworked himself constantly.

You smiled, recalling the first time you had ventured in his bedroom at night to give him some coffee and poison apples to snack on. He was grateful for it, and he smiled with crinkles in his eyes and warmth radiating from him, and he thanked you. It was one of your best moments here, with him. A small one, but still perfect.

“You’re back!!”

You jumped in surprise as your legs were attacked and you very nearly fell over. Your train of thought vanished immediately. Looking down, then seeing the mop of blonde, you realized it was just Luke.

He was a sweet Angel, still learning and growing, and he had a heart of gold. Sometimes he was a bit sensitive to the demon brothers teasing (mostly Mammon’s). It was funny to watch him get all flustered and red-faced when that happened and insult back to the best he of his abilities.

“Hi Luke,” you greeted, returning his hug. “I’m happy to see you.”

He grinned up at you, head just reaching mid-level, his chin resting on your abdomen. “I missed you. Are you feeling better? Simeon told me everything and I’m so excited to hear you’re an Angel just like us! You have to tell me all about when you lived in the Celestial Realm, please?”

Simeon chuckled from behind Luke, tugging him away gently. “Let’s leave her alone while she gets settled back in, okay? We can visit another time. We came to see Lucifer.”

Luke pouted, but sighed and nodded. He took your hand and squeezed it once. “I want to hear all about it, okay?” he asked with determination.

That was Luke, always adamant and cute. You smiled and ruffled his hair, the youngest Angel huffing. “I promise I will, Luke.”

Simeon waved goodbye, shutting the door behind him, and that left you alone in your little room. You fell onto your bed face first and inhaled deeply, rolling on your side and clutching a pillow to your chest.

Now what would happen? Things seemed to be returning to normal, but would everything?

A knock. “Are you in there Angel girl?” Belphegor’s voice came through the door.

You were a little nervous to see him, but he was the last demon brother you’d thought you’d see first. Seeing as he was usually asleep somewhere.

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t only Belphie. It was all of the brothers, minus Lucifer, and they had wide silly smiles on their faces. And then they tackled you in hugs, squeezing you and overwhelming you with their tight holds and back rubs. You just laughed and let them, knowing they probably had been worried about you after all.

“Guys—please, guys stop! I can’t breathe,” you laughed, shoving at the arms and torsos around you. Once you were free, you stepped back and smiled. Seeing all of their happy faces had your insides twisting in joy. “I missed you guys so much, it’s good to see every one of you.”

Mammon spoke first. “Damn right! We’ve been totally freaked out about you. We-well, I-I mean, I haven’t been losing sleep or anything, but they all kept asking Lucifer where you were and when you’re gonna come back. Ch, losers.” His face was flushed when he finished. Why was this white-haired demon so damn cute when he was trying to not care, you would never know the reason.

“I lost no sleep,” Belphie stated.

You chuckled. Typical Belphegor. “Well, I am sorry for worrying everyone…” You frowned, and looked at the floor. There was that inner voice telling you that even if they were all here and hugging you, it was still possible for them to dislike you for lying, hiding this entire time. “But… You don’t… hate me?”

Asmo gasped. “No, dear, we don’t hate you at all! We love you!”

That made you tear up a little bit, and Asmo cooed and hugged you. Mammon grumbled and Asmo gave you one last squeeze then let you go. Your face was a little bit red but only from the embarrassment of nearly crying when being told you were loved.

“How could we hate you? You’re still you,” Beel said.

Satan agreed. “Yes, exactly. Only now you have wings and magic we didn’t know about. You’ll have to show us sometime, I’ve never seen an Angel’s wings in person, only in textbooks. It makes sense why your grades in Celestial History are on par with my own.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well… only up until a certain point…”

Satan chuckled. “Yes, I suppose that is true. I do want to see your wings, but we were told you’re still healing so there’s no rush.”

“Yes, we want to see them too, darling~”

“The Great Mammon should get first look.”

Waving your hands to calm them down, you nodded and agreed. “Okay, I promise I’ll show you eventually. But like Satan said I do have to take it easy for a while.”

You were planning on going for a midnight fly session tonight, though… But that was a secret that you felt comfortable keeping, like a small white lie. Hopefully no one would find out.

There was one demon who hadn’t said a word, in fact he barely hugged you like the others did. Leviathan. He was quietly standing in the doorway, fidgeting on the balls of his feet, probably waiting for his turn to say something but too shy to speak up.

“Levi? Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

He jumped in surprise, but nodded after a moment. His face flushed and he fumbled with his hands, he usually did that when he didn’t have a phone or device in them. “I-I just want to say… Please don’t ever ever EVER leave us again. I don’t know what I’d do without my midnight gaming buddy. And, well, I just—I love you, okay? You’re my Henry and you aren’t allowed to leave like that!” He was flustered when he finished and avoided eye contact with everyone.

The other boys ‘aw’ed and you smiled in happiness. It was incredible to know that no one hated you for hiding this from them.

“I won’t ever leave you, Levi.”

That was a promise you hoped to keep. These 6 demon boys here were family, your own siblings, and you loved them and all of their weird quirks.

“Hm, I want to ask you something,” Beel’s voice rang out.

Oh no, this was it. The dreaded questioning. They would want to know everything, why you left, where you were, why you lied. And you didn’t know if you had to courage to speak up.

“How did we not remember you?”

Oh thank the Heaven’s. Good kind Beel, nothing bad ever seemed to come from him. Shoving the urge to sigh appreciatively out loud because that would cause actual questions that would be difficult to answer, you instead pondered the question. Would it be against Lucifer’s wishes? He never mentioned keeping it a secret from his brothers.

And so, you told them. About Michael and their memories being tampered with. And they were livid. So livid in fact, they all transformed into their demon forms. And your room was filled with infernal magic and wings and tails flickering. It was intense, but you knew it all came from a place of love. Even Satan, who had yet to be born at the time this happened, was upset, his green tail twisting around. In the tiny space, it was a lot.

Holding up your hand, hoping this calmed them down, you spoke softly, “Please relax everyone. I’m okay now. Simeon and Lucifer helped me. No one can hurt me here.”

“And… you’re staying?” Satan asked.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

They all relaxed, and changed back to their ‘human’ forms. You felt that you could breathe again.

The silence was tense, and you swallowed thickly, trying to think of something to say. Luckily, someone else did.

Asmo clapped his hands and exclaimed, “Let’s have a movie night! Popcorn, blankets, cuddling. It’ll be so fun! It’s the perfect thing to reconnect.”

Good ole’ Asmo, you would kiss him if you didn’t think it would cause a disaster. “Yeah, let’s do it,” you agreed. “But I pick the movie. We’re watching a scary movie.” You wiggled your fingers, chuckling.

Mammon’s face dropped. “Uh, we—we should watch something else, like an Action movie. A superhero movie, those are awesome!”

“Why, are you gonna cry if we watch a horror film?” Satan teased.

“Yeah, poor Mammon’s gonna wet himself,” Belphie joked.

“He probably already has,” Levi chuckled.

Mammon growled, and reached for them with his hands, probably to strangle them, but you stuck out your hand. “Please, no fighting. We can watch a funny movie then.”

Mammon relaxed. “I didn’t care either way!” he declared.

So your bedroom was transformed into a fort of soft pillows, blankets and sheets. Satan used a spell to make the bed larger for everyone and he TV was enlarged, too. Very handy spellcasting. Beel and Levi went to get snacks and drinks, and everyone else got the room set up with pillows for everybody.

After the movie started, and everyone was situated on the huge bed, it was quiet. Everyone was scattered around with their own pillows and you felt surrounded by warmth. This was exactly what you needed, just some time with them, feeling at peace.

But the comfortable quiet did not last long.

From where Mammon was snuggled beside you, he nudged your arm and said, “So… are you gonna tell us about it?”

You blinked. “About what?”

“Your life with the humans. We want to know everything. What it was like, who you met. Oh, did you meet anyone famous?”

Satan sat up straight. “Yes, did you meet any historical figures?”

Everyone seemed to be listening in instead of watching the film now.

You thought it over, and nodded. “Yeah, a few I guess… they were ordinary people to me at the time, though… Just your fellow human helping out other humans. I tended to keep out of any major conflicts so not to affect too much. I guess just part of what I’d been taught growing up in the Celestial Realm: don’t do anything to change the path humanity will take.”

Mammon nodded. “What was one of your favorite memories?”

Wow, that was a hard question to answer. You even said so. “I lived on Earth for a long time... I have a lot of stuff packed in my head,” you chuckled.

“Aw, c’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’ that sticks out,” Mammon said. “You can’t think of one thing?”

“Oooh, what was your favorite style of outfit? Maybe those pretty dresses from the 18th century?” Asmo asked.

“Anything before the invention of the internet has to be the worst,” Levi commented.

Beel, while chewing on some popcorn, said, “The food is always gonna be good, but when the cheeseburger was created was probably my favorite time in history.”

You chuckled at each of their comments. But you did go through your favorite memories, friends’ long past and different towns flashing through your mind’s eye. Overall they were happy memories but in the end, it was always the same endgame. They died, and you moved on.

You must have made some noise or done something because Asmo made a cooing noise at you. “Oh, sweetie.” He immediately pulled you into his arms, tucking you into his neck to pet your hair. A few tear drops fell but you did sob or cry at all.

There were hands rubbing your back and arms, and you looked up to see the brother’s saddened smiling faces.

“We are here for you,” Satan reassured you, stroking his hand up and down your upper arm. His hand was warm and comforting.

Levi sniffled, and squeezed your hand. “Don’t cry anymore, you don’t need to when we can protect you now.”

Beel reached behind himself, and held out a candy bar towards you. “Hey, do you want some of my chocolate? It’s got small crunchy bits in it. And chocolate makes you feel better.” He smiled, and handed you the candy bar. It had a bite out of it, but the thought was nice.

“Thank you, Beel.”

“And here, take my blanket, you look cold.” Belphie put his small throw blanket over your lower half, making his brothers curse when it buried their own arms or hands.

You smiled up at him. “Thanks, Belphie.”

Asmo made a huffing sound. “Well, I want to play with your hair. Can I braid it, please?”

You giggled. “Go ahead, Asmo.”

You let them pamper you up, while the movie played in the background. Eventually the movie ended and Levi set up a racing game, and you all selected your characters and played together. It was a perfect first day back home.

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dweemeister · 4 years ago

Photo

Best Documentary Short Film Nominees for the 93rd Academy Awards (2021, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

NOTE: For viewers in the United States (continental U.S., Alaska, and Hawai’i) who would like to watch the Oscar-nominated short film packages, click here. For virtual cinemas, you can purchase the packages individually or all three at once. You can find info about reopened theaters that are playing the packages in that link. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health guidelines.

A Love Song for Latasha (2019)

On March 16, 1991, Latasha Harlins, a 15-year-old African-American girl, was murdered by Soon Ja Du at Du’s convenience store in Los Angeles. The murder, which occurred almost two weeks after Rodney King’s beating at the hands of the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), contributed to the start of the 1992 LA riots one year later. Directed by Sophia Nahli Allison, A Love Song for Latasha is an avant grade film that intercuts statements by Latasha’s friends and family about the young girl they cared deeply for. Alongside reenacted scenes of childhood, of black girls frolicking on the Californian coastline and the streets of Los Angeles, the film serves as an intimate eulogy for Latasha – one delivered as memories about her become less immediate.

Whatever justified rage the Los Angeles rioters might have felt in 1992 is not the dominant force in Allison’s film. A Love Song for Latasha is foremost a cinematic lament rather than a political polemic. With the reenacted scenes edited and appearing as if it resembling a home movie, this piece appears like a visualization of the memories that the interviewees are recalling. When Latasha was murdered, she ceased to be just a daughter or a friend. A Love Song for Latasha, thirty years on, seeks to reclaim those distinctions for those who knew her best – something, given the significance of Latasha’s murder in history, that may never happen.

My rating: 6.5/10

Do Not Split (2020, Norway)

From Norwegian documentarian-journalist Anders Hammer comes Do Not Split, a street-level glimpse into the protests against the 2019 Extradition Law Amendment Bill (ELAB) that inspired the passage of the 2020 Hong Kong national security law. The events depicted in Hammer’s film include the Hong Kong police’s sieges of the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) and Hong Kong Polytechnic University, in addition to small-scale clashes between protesters and police, as well as mainland Chinese instigating confrontations. Hammer’s footage is harrowing material, a collection of violent imagery with few moments of individual revelation or introspection outside of the presence of Michigan-born activist Joey Siu. Do Not Split decides not to attempt a dialectic of why the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the Hong Kong Legislative Council (LegCo) are pursuing these changes and are brutalizing the protesters, depriving this film of the context that less knowledgeable viewers might need. For those who have been keeping at least superficially aware of events in Hong Kong, there is never any question on which side Hammer is on – despite Hammer’s journalistic background, this is not a piece of objective journalism.

Yet this is not agitprop due to the politics left mostly unexplained, and none of Do Not Split’s flaws take away from the rawness of the protesters’ desperation and the cynicism of the police and government officials enacting the crackdown. Despite the repetitive nature of the footage by the time it reaches the final stages of its thirty-five-minute runtime, Do Not Split contains excellent, crisp hand-held footage that makes immediate sense of the space and time of the depicted violence.

My rating: 8/10

Hunger Ward (2020)

For Pluto TV (some cord-cutting television service I was not familiar with until I started writing this) and MTV Films and directed by Skye Fitzgerald (2018 Oscar-nominated short film Lifeboat), Hunger Ward follows doctor Aida Al-sadeeq and nurse Mekkia Mahdi as they treat malnourished children in the midst of ongoing the Yemeni famine. The famine, directly related to the civil war that began in late 2014, has seen almost a hundred thousand children die in what UNICEF describes as, “the largest humanitarian crisis in the world.” Fitzgerald film works best when focusing on Al-sadeeq and Mahdi, as they describe the heartbreak conditions of the hunger ward and their experiences since the famine began. However, much of Hunger Ward’s footage is too in-your-face with footage of the mothers’ grieving and the last moments of several children. It appears almost as if gawking at the desperation and death that occurs every day in this hospital.

This is not to say that there is no revelation in the image of a child with their eyes glazed in lifelessness or the unearthly wails of a mother overtaken by grief. Fitzgerald edits and shoots their film in a way that makes this process – a child in their last moments of care, a declaration of death, a shot of the child’s corpse, a cut to the mother inside or arriving to the deathbed, and the echoing despair – occur tediously in their movie. Hunger Ward never breaks from this tedious formula. The film is redeemed only by withholding its slings and arrows until some text prior to the end credits, correctly assigning responsibility with Western nations that have enabled and abetted the violence in Yemen.

My rating: 6/10

Colette (2020)

Colette Marin-Catherine is in her twilight years and, upon first appearances, one might not predict the incredible life story that she has to tell. She was a French Resistance member, and French Resistance narratives tend to be sidelined in favor of those depicting Allied soldiers liberating France instead. But Anthony Giacchino’s (the brother of composer Michael Giacchino) film, distributed by British newspaper The Guardian and made for an extra feature of the virtual reality (VR) video game Medal of Honor: Above and Beyond, decides to linger on the memories of Colette’s murdered brother, who died at Mittelbau-Dora concentration camp in Germany, instead. At the urging and with the assistance of the young historian Lucie Fouble, who is interested in telling Colette’s story (although technically this is not Colette’s story), Colette travels to Germany to visit the site of Mittelbau-Dora so that Colette can… spill out her feelings?

It is self-evident that Colette does not see the academic or personal value of such a trip, but the irascible subject of this short film will nevertheless humor Fouble – her intentions genuine, her approach questionable. Colette, who cannot forget the loss of brother but has not been dwelling on his death, is emotionally vulnerable throughout the trip to Germany, and the audience learns little about Colette, German atrocities, or her brother. Even in these moments, she remains a compelling figure on-screen, but this movie is a disservice to its eponymous subject – one who deserves more credit as a member of the French Resistance, as someone not defined by the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

My rating: 6/10

A Concerto Is a Conversation (2020)

Distributed by The New York Times and executive produced by Ava DuVernay, Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bower direct a deeply personal documentary short film to bookend this slate of five. A Concerto Is a Conversation contains a conversation between Kris Bowers (composer on 2018’s Green Book and 2021’s The United States vs. Billie Holiday) and his grandfather, Horace Bowers Sr., before the premiere of Bower’s concerto at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. What follows is a disjointed film with sketches of Jim Crow-era America from Horace’s past to the anxiety-laden self-questioning of Kris’ present. Kris, as a black man, is questioning his place in the classical music world – which has, justifiably in some ways, been seen as staid and white. If A Concerto Is Not a Conversation can bridge the differences between Horace and Kris’ stories, it barely does so thank to the scattershot editing.

Yet Kris and Horace’s conversation is wholesome, admiring, loving. This is Kris’ way to show his appreciation for his grandfather and the struggles that he endured for most of his life. The out-of-focus background makes A Concerto Is Not a Conversation seem almost like a dream, a meeting that almost should not be happening. And in honoring Kris’ profession and the piece that is set to debut, the film is divided into noticeable thirds – just like a concerto’s three movements. A Concerto Is Not a Conversation might not make for the most cohesive viewing, but it is a celebration of a profound bond, tied together by forces that defy even the most eloquent words: music and love.

My rating: 6.5/10

^ All ratings based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

From previous years: 88th Academy Awards (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), 91st (2019) and 92nd (2020).

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pinkprimrose05 · 3 years ago

Text

GX Month Day 18: This Wasn't in the Rule Book

@gxmonth

Ao3 Version Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83310418

Why yes, it's prompt bending time! Wish this day came a bit later into the month so it was closer to the release date of Duel World ARC-V but, oh well, what can ya do? ...Oops, looks like I spoiled the chapter. Yes, this year's AU prompt also doubles as a celebration of ARC-V coming to Duel Links, and it's probably the one prompt I'm most excited to write because hoo boy I've been waiting for this moment for sooooo long! 8D

~~~~~

"Manual Reboot Successful. Initiate Sign-Up Process? "

"Initiating Sign-Up Process. Establishing Connection...Please Enter WORLD_ID."

"Response Recorded. Initiating Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6..."

"..ERROR. Failed to Connect to WORLD_ID SERIES6. Continue Sign-Up Process and Retry?"

"Response Recorded. Continuing Sign-Up Process."

"Response Recorded. Aborting Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6...Connection Aborted"

"...Sing-Up Process Completed. Initiating Log-In Sequence..."

"ERROR."

-----------

Yuuma sat by the river, waiting for something big to happen.

He knew he wasn't support to be there. Tour Guide hade explicitly told everyone to not get close to the Gate during new world maintenance, but being his curious self, he guiltlessly ignored the warning. Why? Because of the aforementioned new world, of course!

From what he knew about it -which wasn't much, but Juudai-senpai had been rambling about all the different Duelists, Decks and weird game mechanics that they might see for two weeks straight and that sort of gave him a general idea-, this new world thing was a pretty big deal in Duel Links, and with it being so covered up, Yuuma was all too hyped to see what it was like for himself, consequences be damned.

He'd tried world-switching to no avail, as he sebsequently found out that the game wasn't only staggering log-outs, it was also staggering travelling through Duel Worlds for however long he was stuck here. He'd tried asking everyone he knew about it over his D-Gazer too, but that didn't work, and neither did begging a sleepy Kaito to try and hack the game for more info..

..Which led back to him sitting by the river, kicking his legs back and forth as Emperor's Key swayed in the morning breeze, dangling from the string in his hand while he kept waiting, waiting, and waiting some more...

"Yuuma?"

"Eek!" The Xyz Duelist practically jumped five feet into the air upon hearing his name being called, thoughts racing in frantic circles as he turned to see someone approaching...then immediately relaxing when he realized exactly who that someone was.

"Three!"

Michael Arclight smiled, waving gently as he tottered to the river bank and sat down next to Yuuma, who sighed in relief at knowing he wasn't in grave trouble for getting caught near the Gate. The two traded greetings, then settled into silence as they gazed at the horizon, at the clear sky and rising sun of their Duel World's landscape. If it were him, Michael would be content with just staying like that and admiring the view, but the ball of excitement next to him wasn't about to share that sentiment anytime soon.

"Sooooooo..." Yuuma began "What are you gonna do today?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Yuuma made a broad gesture with his arms in response, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"You know, about the, uh, the new world? Are you gonna visit that? Duel people there? I don't know what to expect from it to be honest, it's the first time for us and I'm reeaally excited and also curious and I can't wait to see what will happen...but we can't find out anything before the maintenance ends, and it looks like it's gonna take a while and I'm getting bored so, what are you gonna do?"

Michael hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his Duel Disk "Well, I was thinking of waiting until things settled down before doing anything about all of this. A game this big can get quite unstable with such a huge update, you know? That's why I came here anyway, and..." the pink-haired Duelist blushed faintly "..I may or may not have decided to ignore what Guide-san said about the Gate in the process. Please don't tell anyone I was here?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Yuuma said, mimicking a zipper sound as he ran two fingers along his lips for effect "No one will ever know of your super classified one-time incident of breaking the law...not that that law made sense anyway. I mean, COME ON..."

Michael giggled, listening as Yuuma launched into a full-on rant about how meaningless them 'closing' the Gate area was. He wasn't exactly wrong though; if it was about as dangerous as Guide said, surely there would be some obstacle or lock to stop people from getting too close, right? Surely she wouldn't just count on everyone to not be reckless enough to ignore her, right? Unless...

Unless the error she's dealing with here might cause serious backlash if she tried inputting a new command that also interacts with the Gate, in which case-

Any other thought that would have followed that trail instantly vanished when the Gate suddenly exploded with blue light, and in that moment, Michael's world went quiet.

-----------

"Unacceptable! This is unacceptable! I have a fucking job interview in two hours, how am I supposed to get ready in time for that??"

Yuusei sighed, running a hand through his already mussed hair for what was probably the eighth time in thirty minutes. Tour Guide's sudden announcement of an emergency maintenace -one that somehow overlapped with the new world's- had put everyone on edge, even more so after they found out they couldn't log out until it was over. As a result, every single Duelist currently in the 5D's World had gathered at the Deck Editor and unanimously decided to wait out the maintenance period there...but some of them weren't particularly happy about being stuck in the game for however long it took.

Chief of those was Jack, who kept pacing next to the table Team 5D's and co. clustered around, all while throwing several uncharitable insults at Guide, Isono, Kaiba, and basically everyone affliated with the Duel Links staff.

"Why do they have to keep messing up every time they launch one of those new words?? I swear, if I see any of those little-"

Carly instinctively covered her ears when the Resonator Duelist let out a particularly nasty swear, and Crow shot him a miffed glare from behind. Yuusei sighed again, then slowly pushed himself out from his chair to rest a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Jack, please go get a cup of coffee and cool down." He said in an uncharacteristically pleading, tired tone "We're all stuck here, we all have important things to do, and some of us haven't slept for twenty-six hours. It'd do everyone a lot of good if you stopped yelling at empty air for a while."

Jack crossed his arms and huffed, but forced himself to simmer down regardless.

"...Fine. I'll go get myself some coffee and 'cool down' or whatever, but not because you asked me to, it's because I need some fresh air." And with that, the former King of Duels strode out of the Studio, coat flapping dramatically in a gust of wind before he went completely out of view.

"Good riddance." Crow let his head drop on the table with a low thud, raising a thumbs-up in Yuusei's general direction, and while he normally wouldn't agree with that sentiment, the Synchro Duelist was currently grateful for the calmer atmosphere of the place, now that Jack was gone. He slid back into his chair, hoping to get some shut-eye to compensate for staying up for all of the night before...

"Guys, we have a problem."

...Or not. Yuusei looked up in time to see Bruno -No, stop it, that's Antinomy- dropping in the chair between him and a barely conscious Kiryuu, the computer in his hands flashing with several warning signs overlapping on top of strings of code, which kept appearing and disappearing at a seemingly random pace. This, the noiret decidedly thought, peering intently at the screen, definitely doesn't look good.

"The energy output is spiking around the Gate area and the ones close to it." Antinomy explained to no-one in particular, his usually passive face set in a stressed frown as he clicked away at the keyboard "It appears that whatever issue that caused this emergency maintenance has gone completely out of control, and while we don't know exactly what that means, compressing so much energy in a certain area, no matter how broad..."

"...is bound to make it blow up." Yuusei concluded, eyes widening as his mind caught up with the implication behind that "This means the Duel Studio and everyone in it will be affected if anything happens to the Gate."

Antinomy nodded "Exactly. It could be that someone is trying to log in, and that's why I'm asking you to go and- dammit!" He swore, fingers moving across the keyboard at a far more frantic pace when the computer let out a series of long, loud beeping sound. Yuusei was pretty sure he got whiplash from how fast he turned to see what was going on-

-but before he could register more than the word "ERROR" bolded in blue across the screen, he felt a shock of static, and then...nothing.

-----------

"Automated Reboot Successful. Log-In Sequence...Complete."

"Connecting to WORLD_ID SERIES2...Connection Successful."

"Linking with.."

"..Sakaki Yuuya."

-----------

The first thing he felt when he came to was a gentle breeze tousling his hair, rays of sunshine lighting up his eyelids, and droplets of water spraying his face every couple seconds. It wasn't raining, that much he gathered, which meant that he'd most likely spawned near a fountain or a river, since there was no trace of the salty scent of seawater in the air.

Yuuya opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was a fountain to his left, its marble structure adorned with a ring of green leaves that carried all kinds of colourful flowers, water flowing from it center and from the sides. Pushing himself up, the tomato-haired Duelist looked around, taking in the rest of his current surroundings, and the first thing that caught his attention was a huge, round portal thingy that hovered in the air, with glowing lines of blue circuitry running through its silvery white perimeter.

That must be the Gate, he thought that's how I came here.

A bit further ahead was what seemed to be another portal, but this one was rectangular in shape, unlike the Gate's circle, and it was completely blue as well. Yuuya watched as the portal rotated in place slowly, the other side of it coming into view with the label 'Duel School' appearing on top of it. Curious, he reached out a hand to touch the portal...

...only to pull back immediately when the pixels forming it fizzled and crackled with electricity, shocking him.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!!" Yuuya clutched his stung hand with the other, hissing in pain at the contact before letting go of his hand. He sucked in deep breath then slowly exhaled, wiping the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes before turning away from the Duel School to keep walking (and to will away the sick, fleeting memory the shock had sparked for a moment).

Yeesh, that wasn't a great first interaction... he grimaced, waving his hand in the air in hopes that it would calm the stinging pain down But that doesn't mean I can't find something good if I keep looking. I wonder where all the other Duelists are.

The path he was walking down split into two at the end. Yuuya turned around, chancing one more look at the admittedly beautiful yet strangely desloate area he started in. He chalked its emptiness up to it being quite early in the morning...but then again, it wasn't morning for everyone around the world, so maybe it was just that the area was mainly used as a terminal, which would explain why he was the only one there...

Wait.

He shouldn't be.

Switching his Duel Disk on with a quick swipe (which was an honestly stupid action in hindsight because damn his hand stung hard from that), Yuuya dialed the very first contact on his list, running the hand with the Disk strapped to it through bi-colored bangs and pushing them out of his face as the device rang once, twice, three times. Where was everyone else? He, Yuzu and Gongenzaka had logged in at the same time, and Sora had told them he'll jump in right after, so why was he the only one to come out of the Gate?

*Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din-*

"Hello."

Yuuya blinked, then did a double take at the soft, young voice that came from the other end of the call. That...that wasn't Yuzu. He swallowed.

"..I'm sorry, who am I talking to?"

A few moments passed before the voice replied "My name is Sera. You must not recognize me, but please don't worry, the owner of this device is safe and sound, and if you wish to talk to her, she is here with me."

The line went silent then. Well, almost silent; Yuuya could hear bits of chatter and the sound of someone fiddling with the Duel Disk...before said someone decided to blast his eardrums full-force, like she always did.

"Yuuya! Where the heck are you?!" Yuzu cried out, and he found himself smiling at the familiar loudness "I've been looking for you everywhere!!"

He winced when her voice cracked on the last word, hand running through his hair again as he laughed nervously "Sorry, sorry! I...honestly don't entirely know where I am yet. Thought we'd start at the same place, but I guess we didn't..." He glanced around for any sort of landmark to pinpoint his position, then remembered where he came from at first and settled on that "Um, can you see the Gate? I'm standing close to it."

There was a beat of silence, then an audible sigh. "I see," Sera muttered at length "Sakaki-san, I think you have logged into a different Duel World than the one Hiiragi-san and I are in at the moment..because we're standing right in front of the Gate."

It took a full ten seconds for Yuuya's brain to register that, and when it did, all that came out of his mouth was a drawn-out "Whaaaaaaat??"

"...You skipped the rest of the tutorial, didn't you?" Yuzu's voice carried a hint of amusement and fondness, before assuming a more serious tone "Okay, look. If you check your Duel Disk, you'll find two arrows in a circle at the top left corner. Click that, and you'll get a list of the five different Duel Worlds in the game. Sera said that something happened before we came here that stopped everyone from travelling between those worlds, and apparently there was a sixth world that we were supposed to log into but didn't...anyway, the highlighted name will show you the world you're in. I'm in the fourth one right now..."

Yuuya listened as Yuzu explained what happened to her after logging into the Duel World, following her instructions all the while. A quick check told him that he was in the second world, the one labeled 'Duel World Series 2'. He nodded along his friends' words, and when she finished, he took yet another look at his surroundings.

"Alright, gotcha, I'm in the second world." He said, and it was then that he decided to head left "I guess I'll go take a look around the place, see if I can find out where everyone else is, and wait until we can all switch to the same world. It's great to hear you're alright, Yuzu. Take care!"

"Hey, that's my line!" She quipped in response, and Yuuya could practically hear the playful grin on her face "But seriously, I'm glad to know you're doing fine too. See you later, Yuuya."

And with that, the line went dead. Not even bothering to turn his Disk off, Yuuya broke into a quick jog, humming a cheerful tune to himself and grinning widely as he started rhyming the tune to his steps. Yuzu was fine, she was okay, they'll find each other soon enough and meet up with their friends, and they'll have tons of fun exploring the game, just as they planned.

Yeah, that's the spirit!

He only slowed down when the smooth, metallic path turned into dirt, patches of grass growing randomly in the way and on the sides, as well as a pair of trees and a few stray daisy bushes. A huge structure that felt so very out of place loomed ahead of him, its futuristic design and neon blue lines contrasting sharply with the simple greenery surrounding it, despite only being separated from that by a ring of gray tiles at the end of the dirt path. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be a floating label above it that spelled out the words "Duel Studio", and a sliding door that opened on its own when Yuuya came close. The Pendulum Duelist stepped through-

"Ack!"

-and promptly crashed into a blur of black, stumbling backwards as a result. Leaning on the now-open door for support, Yuuya nursed his head with his free hand, letting out a small sigh before he looked up to check on whoever it was that he bumped into...and froze when he locked eyes with them.

That shade of gold was...familiar.

Yuuya's eyes widened, and the brunette facing him mirrored the action for a split second, before his shock faded into a passive scowl that clashed with his fluffy, Kuriboh-like hair. Yuuya opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but the taller male turned back to the Duel Studio, subtly motioning for him to come along, and whatever it was that he wanted to say went out of the window.

"Follow me." His voice -slow, deep and clear- carried a distinctly authoritative tone as he strode ahead, and after a moment of apprehension, Yuuya found himself trailing behind. The guy looked like he knew where he was going, and didn't exactly seem opposed to talking to him, which meant he could possibly get some answers to the pile of questions building up in his head, and well, weird gut feelings aside, that was actually a good thing.

The two sat at a round, red table in a distant corner, and then just...stared at each other. Yuuya waited for the Kuriboh-haired Duelist -at least, he guessed he was a Duelist, judging by the strange custom model of a Duel Disk on his left arm- to say something, anything, but nothing came out, and he wasn't sure exactly how to start the conversation, so...he kept waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And then decided that was enough waiting. "Umm...are you even gonna say anything?" Yuuya asked after a full four minutes, half expecting to get no response..

..but the guy actually rolled his eyes at him, like he'd asked a stupid question or something "What are you expecting me to say?"

Huh. Okay, this man was kinda bad at conversing. Yuuya held back a sigh, plastered on a smile instead, and tried again.

"Hmm, how about an introduction? That sounds like a good start." He held out a hand "Nice to meet you, I'm Sakaki Yuuya. And you are..?"

The brunette's stared moved to Yuuya's outstretched hand, then back to his eyes...and then he sighed, holding his own hand to his temples as he mumbled something in a foreign language Yuuya couldn't make out (but assumed was an exasperated statement, based on the tone of what came next).

"Dear Lord, why is it that every single one of them turns out to be a child?"

"Huh?"

"You can see Duel Spirits," He said, pointing at Yuuya. It wasn't even a question, just a factual statement he threw as casually as someone discussing the weather forecast "and you most likely have a special bond with at least one of your cards, that may even go as far as your very soul being bound to it. Is that correct?"

A few moments passed in silence, and then: "How did you-"

"I knew that was the case. Listen to me, Sakaki Yuuya; I do not know the exact extent of your knowledge about the nature of this world, or that of the darkness you possess, but know this-" gold eyes narrowed dangerously, and Yuuya flinched in spite of himself "Duel Links is not just a game. There are greater forces behind the creation of the Duel Worlds, ones that can tamper with your memories and thoughts, even call back beings that were supposed to be gone forever and link different dimensioms. Your status as a Legendary Duelist means you are directly involved in everything that might happen in the new world, so proceed with caution, or prepare to deal with the consequences."

Yuuya reeled back in his chair, face going white. He stared down at his pendulum, gripping its dimly glowing crystal tightly in his hands -had it been doing that for a while? He had no idea. His head was starting to feel light, his throat got all choked up, and he was sure he'd be shaking if not for how tense his muscles were. What- what had he gotten himself into? If he'd known it was more than a game, if he'd known they'd be thrown in the middle of crossfire again-

Deep breaths, Yuuya, deep breaths.. He told himself before he got too lost in thought, inhaling sharply. Calm down, let it out slowly, relax.....yeah, there we go.

"Why are you telling me this?" The teen asked once he was certain his mini-panic attack was over, and he must've been imagining things because he could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on the other's face when he replied.

"In all honesty," he began slowly, the edge to his voice almost completely gone "I have had enough interdimensional conflict to last me a lifetime, and I would really rather not deal with any more of it if I can. I assume you understand where I'm coming from here?"

Yuuya hummed absently, and that seemed to be a satisfying answer to the brown-haired Duelist, who pushed himself out of his seat and turned to leave, but not without allowing himself another final sentence.

"Very well then. For your own sake, as well as everyone you may care about, I hope you're actually smart enough to follow my warning. Until we meet again...or not."

And with that, he walked away, disappearing behind the staircase to the right. As soon as he went out of sight, Yuuya let his head fall down on the table with an unceremonious flump!, making some inchoerent noises when the sound of some lady announcing the end of the 'Maintenance Break' blasted over the intercom above his head, and he became distantly aware of other voices and some footsteps sounding not too far from him.

*tap*

Alright, so he and everyone else have basically jumped into yet another grand scheme that caused conflict across different dimensions, but this time the stakes weren't as clear as in the Interdimensional War.

*tap-tap*

The thought was admittedly daunting, and he was a hundred percent sure no-one he knew would like to go through something like that again..

"Oi."

But on the bright side, it seemed that they weren't the only ones dealing with this sort of thing, which meant they could easily find many allies in the different Duel Worlds...yeah, if they kept an eye out, they should be all right-

"Oi!"

Yuuya's head snapped up when he realized someone was calling out to him, and when he looked up, he was greeted with the smiling face of..

"You again??"

..the same Kuriboh-haired Duelist?

"Sorry, what?"

Yuuya did a double take. Yeah, no, that wasn't him; the eyes were colored soft brown instead of hollow gold, and he was wearing a red jacket instead of a black robe too- Yuuya mentally scolded himself for overlooking the differences (but also found it somewhat funny because, you know, he had to deal with this kind of confusion more than once before).

"Nevermind, I think I confused you for someone else. My bad." He gave the red-jacketed brunette a sheepish grin, gesturing at the empty chair opposite to his, then watching as he placed his also strange custom model of a Duel Disk on the side of the table before sitting down himself, fiddling with the device all the while. Even the way he composed himself was different; this guy felt far more lax and chill compared to the other one, and it made Yuuya relax a bit in turn, the silence that stretched between them feeling more comfortable.

"So, let me guess..." Red Jacket began a bit later, leaning a bit forward with a curious glint in his eyes "You're one of the new kids?"

A small nod "You can say that, I guess. I'm Yuuya, and you?"

"Yuuki Juudai. Pleased to meet you, kiddo- wait, I can call you kiddo, right?"

"Sure, unless you're somehow younger than me, which I doubt because of the..height difference."

Juudai smiled again "Aight, kiddo it is then. I gotta say though, I'm impressed you managed to switch worlds that fast. Took me a whole week to realize that was even a thing."

He laughed, and Yuuya chuckled with him. "Actually.." he said afterwards, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, bashful smile "A friend told me about it, and I couldn't even use it when I first arrived. Something about an error happening with the new world and shutting down the whole game, I think? Yean, that locked out the switch thing for a while, and it stopped everyone from logging out too."

"Woah, for real?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Damn," Juudai slammed a hand down on the table "you sure had one heck of a first day, kiddo. Guide must be freaking out with all of this going on."

Yuuya blinked, confused "Guide?"

"Oh, you don't know her?" The older teen asked, quirking an eyebrow "She's, ah, the Duel Spirit of Tour Guide From the Underworld. Pretty much the one who manages this place, since the actual owner doesn't give a shit about the shenanigans happening around here, and she also runs the Duel School. You can go hit her up if you have any questions about the game; she's a great help for new players."

"A Duel Spirit..." Yuuya echoed quietly, stare moving down to the Deck slot of his Duel Disk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Juudai and asked "So anyone can interact with them here? The spirits, I mean."

"Of course! It's part of the game's charm, y'know?" He answered, throwing a wink at Yuuya before continuing "Being able to hang out with all your monster friends, even if you might not see them in real life..I don't think anyone would pass up on something that cool."

The younger Duelist smiled at that, hand subconsciously touching the top of his Deck, which earned him several happy murmurs and a particularly loud roar as well "Yeah, that does sound pretty cool. I gotta try it sometime later."

"You totally should." Juudai agreed, taking out his own Deck and shuffling through it as he added "In the meantime...would you like a good ol' tabletop Duel? My old-ass relic of a Disk is being particularly laggy today, and I heard you had this cool summon mechanic with the backrow zones- what was it called again? Pendant? Pending?"

"It's Pendulum Summoning." Yuuya clarified, tentatively taking his Deck out of its slot when Juudai did the same "And uh, sure, I can show it to you if you want."

The brunette's smile turned into a wide grin as he whipped out a pair of folded game mats from his pocket and placed them on his and Yuuya's side of the table, putting each of their Decks on the far right before punching a fist in the air "Heck yeah! I'm finally the first to Duel the new kid with the new cards, this is gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Definitely!" He nodded, his own smile widening as he drew his starting hand with a little more flourish than necessary for a tabletop Duel- not that he really cared, what mattered at the moment was that, even if he was going to have to fight again later down the line, he was going to enjoy Dueling to the maximum as long as he could. No use worrying about the future, all he came here to do was have fun, and fun was he going to have.

Watch out, Duel Links, here I come..!

"LET'S DUEL!!"

~~~~~~~

THE END, finally. This, for whatever reason, took me three weeks to finish alongside the other prompts (okay actually Yuuya's POV slipped from me and I barely managed to end it where I did), and I couldn't even make it on time ffs. There goes my plans to deliver all chapters on time...but I at least hope you enjoyed reading. ...Oh yeah, you may have noticed by now that I left some loose ends here and there (like the conclusion of the chapter for the residents of Duel Worlds ZEXAL and 5D's, AKA those poor souls who got a mass reboot error and received no answers as to why), and to that I say...nothing. Yeah, you gotta wait a little while longer to see what happened to them after the reboot. That said, I shall now take my leave and return to the land of Ao3, see y'all on...someday by the end of the month, I guess.

#gxmonth2021 #yugioh gx #yugioh zexal #yugioh 5ds #yugioh arc v #too many characters to tag

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lambourngb · 4 years ago

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Get me out of here - places to go when canon is complicated

It’s Day 3, time to celebrate those stories that I turn to when I can’t deal with canon, or when I don’t have the emotional energy to untangle all the emotions I have for what’s going on in canon. Alternative universes, the safe harbor for us. Below are a mix of rewrites of canon, remixes of canon, or out right not even set in Roswell- to fill every type distance you want from canon- from near to far.

The first story I’m reccing is a long one,- so pardon the very long review below.

my love is a life taker by @jocarthage (267,600) So one day, Jessi popped into discord to share a dream she had about timetravel and being able to save yourself in the past basically, particularly Alex getting to give his baby-self a hug, and we all went, “holy shit that’s a cool fic idea please write it!” and really reality sucks right now with quarantine and whatnot, so what better thing to do than follow a WIP? I can’t tell you how badly I needed to something to look forward to as I was staring down a milestone birthday with all my plans in tatters, and this story filled the void.

Okay- now about the actual story itself, the world building about time travel in this is incredible but easy to absorb. Jessi dumps you straight into the action in chapter 1 with Alex, at 28, assassinating an Iraqi intelligence agent in 2009 that averts a bomb that was planned on US forces. You learn so much about both the story-universe and Alex here- one, that even dressed in mask and killing someone, Alex is kind and uses morphine as an overdose and has arranged for his victim’s family to be compensated, you learn that time agents can only visit places they themselves have visited during that time, and Jesse Manes had dragged his son, who was ‘time aware’ to every place of war and ruin on the planet before he was 18 and that, Alex’s victim, even as he’s dying, recognizes what a shit childhood Alex had but that Alex doesn’t.

The next part is where Alex’s time crystal malfunctions, instead of returning him to 2018, it takes him to 1998 where an 8 year old Michael is getting beaten by his foster dad and Alex, out of his time line mysteriously, visible to only Michael, saves him, but only temporarily. We all know with abusers, until you’re out of the house, it’s just a matter of time before the next beating. However, with one act, Alex at 28 starts putting into action (even though he doesn’t recognize it at the time) the steps to save his own life as he works to save Michael from his childhood. Each mission, each jump through time, Alex meets Michael, always a year apart and only for 1000 seconds, or almost 17 minutes. Jessi takes you through some of the darkest points of US foreign policy, only as Alex takes control of his life, he also starts to change the missions, and change the world. The details of places, people, food, etc are authentic from the author’s experience, if you don’t click on the links at the end of the chapters and disappear down google-rabbit holes about the events in history, well- you’re made of stronger stuff than I am. There are lots of heavy subjects discussed, but there’s always care and honesty behind the intent. The way Michael grows, the way Alex grows, and of course the journey to the present time when they could be together? It’s like pining on steroids but it’s so wonderful. I wish I could pull out one thing that I loved in particular in this story- but it’s impossible, only to say that I love that I could disappear completely within the confines of ‘my love is a life taker’ knowing that I would be kept safe by the author, that goodness prevails.

 when I’m oceans away by @neapeaikea (28,000) this is a post-2008 shed canon-divergent AU where Alex Manes, after the best/worst night of his life bolts from Roswell and leaves Michael behind. 10 years later, on the hunt for a child conceived at Caulfield, Michael walks into a youth home in California and finds Alex. A few things, I love that this author writes an Alex who didn’t join the Air Force but still lost a leg, I don’t really enjoy disability erasure in modern AUs (I’m better at looking past that in historical or sci fi aus) . It’s pretty clear after five minutes that the connection between the two men is still there and strong despite anger, secrets and guilt. The teasing and flirting between them is great but so is the acceptance of baring their vulnerabilities. I loved the care they take with each other, and the tie in to an alien child is just so perfect.

Crucibles (series) @ninswhimsy (9,000)- I’m cheating and naming both here, but obviously nin had her finger on the pulse of fandom, by writing crusade-set queer stories before The Old Guard ever boomed into a fandom from the movie. I was lucky enough to trade DMs over the ideas of holiness and the body, and how Alex would have treated himself, certain of his doomed soul, and how Michael would have responded in turn. It’s no secret I love everything Nin writes, but this series stuck in my mind. I will be drifting off to sleep, and think about Alex walking through the ancient city of Aleppo, ready to be done with his burden and Michael there with soft palms and scented oil, and boom! I reach for my kindle to re-read it.

no regrets if we walk this new road by @andrea-lyn (97,000) This author has written so many amazing AUs, some quite far away from canon events like her Mummy AU or her Avengers AU, but I have to say, I have a very soft-spot for this rewrite of season 1 for a lot of reasons. I mean, it’s 2020, so my appetite for Cop!Max is definitely at an all-time low, so the idea of exchanging his job with Kyle’s was extremely appealing. At least Kyle is a POC holding the badge, not a white man like our canon. Anyway, politics aside, this story is special to me for the scorching good Isobel/Kyle relationship that develops, the way Isobel sharpens herself into a lawyer (not an event planner) and how Michael rounds his own edges off in turn by becoming a teacher (and being secretly married). Each deviation from canon made complete sense once you alter the way Rosa’s death affects the pod squad, and how they covered it up ripples out toward Liz, Kyle, etc.

 Layer on layer, down on down by @dotsayers (9,440) I love sci-fi tropes, especially time-loops, but they are incredibly hard to write (I know, I abandoned mine a while ago) so this story stands out because of just how well done the execution is and also the angst. Michael in a time loop about Caulfield, like how great/agonizing is that? The plot is so good, how it ties into Caulfield and why it happens in the first place, like wow. The care, and the hurt, and the fatigue that Michael has in this story, oh you just want to wrap him in a blanket. There’s a tiny throwaway line about how one of the first things Michael learned to do in foster care was to make himself heavy and unmovable- and you instantly picture kid!Michael not wanting to be removed from a house - like my heart broke! The structure of the story, with the background of his just how much he loves Alex but how badly it hurts to see him die, really makes this study of 1x12 special. Along with all the angst, there’s tiny gallows humor lines, so am I weird, that I laughed through a couple of these scenes even as Michael kept dying?

Petty pace by @aewriting (11,600) Aewriting has a couple of stellar AUs, so trying to pick just one was difficult, but I rather feel this story is sadly underappreciated it (mind the tags). It was a remix of @iwontbeyourmedicine ‘s fantastic ‘Freaky Friday’, where the humans and aliens swap roles. Alex in the role of Michael basically was something I had never pictured until Ly wrote that story, and now feel utterly changed by it, especially with this backstory- the idea of Jesse Manes bringing a foster child home? Incredibly well done because there’s an off the charts level of menace in this story. The way Jesse watches Alex, who at first mistakes it for how a pedophile might size up a victim, but then catches on quickly that it’s so much worse in a lot of ways. And Alex is such a loner in the beginning, even as he reconnects with his pod siblings Liz and Maria, he’s still planning on keeping his head down and leaving Roswell far behind. Like freedom is literally the only thing he can conceive of for himself, no real dreams outside of that until Michael slips under his defenses. I probably could have saved this story for angst day- because the second half of the story, if you don’t sob while you read it, then I dunno. It’s helpful to read Ly’s story right afterward as a reminder that things do get better for Alex ten years later. In a lot of ways this story is sadder than canon (though there’s no murder of Rosa/4th alien), I’m comforted that at least Alex has Liz in the aftermath, alike in heartache in a way that Michael didn’t have because of the pact he and Max made about Isobel in canon.

Unexpected tidings by @bestillmyslashyheart (24,800) Another rewrite of canon, that explores a couple of very interesting questions, like what would it look like if Michael never made it back to Roswell as a kid but met Alex by chance in 2008? Imagine the cornerstone of the Lost Decade love affair revolving around the mundane questions of a long distance relationship that wasn’t built on the pain of the shed or Rosa’s death? Marlo writes an amazing take on this, that is both real and deep with the normal couple problems, before introducing that spanner in the works of oh yeah, aliens are real. With Michael on the east coast, and Alex finishing off his service in Roswell, Project Shepherd still entangles Alex with Liz bringing him in on the secret in hopes that with his hacker skills he can track down the third alien child that Max and Iz remember so they can warn him. As interesting as the current plot was, I found myself absolutely revitted the slow piecemeal reveals that Marlo doled out about Alex and Michael’s relationship over time. (I also while rereading this recently got very nostaglic for season 1 Alex who didn’t trust Jesse as far as he could toss him.)

Don’t Punish Me For What I Feel by @winged-fool (3,600) Tarsus IV AU - another wonderful author with a catalog of great AUs, both sci-fi and dark, and honestly it was difficult to narrow it down to one. This story, well in 2009 I was a hard core Trek movie fan, so when I saw a trek-fusion story appear, I knew I would love it just on that basis. The thing is, this gave me Michael as the Captain, a surprisingly rare role for these space fusions, even though genius level repeat offender Jim Kirk and genius level repeat offender Michael Guerin seems pretty married in my mind as a connection. As a Tarsus-like story, all the tags are well earned by the story that Alex finally shares with Michael. It hit on so many levels, the hurt/comfort level for sure, but also to have a story where Michael is this stalwart protector of Alex was really nice to find.

this isn’t the ‘holiday best friends championship’ by @usbournejez (6,090) alright to leave this on a lighter note, my final AU rec is this masterpiece by Kieran that was part of Malex Secret Santa gift fics- and what a gift it was to all of us! The way she writes established Malex is first-rate, because she always includes their canon-levels of snark/sharpness but it’s never directed at each other and that’s something I love. Here we have Alex, where we learn in just a few short lines, is a huge control freak but has the extremely big emotional handicap, and that’s his love/fondness/deserve to caretake Michael. Emotional cactus Alex who is soft for Michael? Love it. There are small drops of angsty backstory peppered in this, but really that just fuels just how sweet and wonderful the main theme of the story- which is Alex might hate the whole world at large, he loves, protects and worships Michael (and vice versa). As someone who can bake cookies, but that’s about it, I was still enthralled with the baking details and this story has never failed to encourage me to eat dessert before dinner basically.

#rnmcreate2020 #malex fic #roswell new mexico #malex fic rec #malex #MALEX FEELS #michael guerin #alex manes #fandom positivity #worship our great authors in this fandom #can we pretend it's Wednesday?#a day late and a dollar short #working on today's now!

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mermaidcashton · 5 years ago

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dance in the living room, love with an attitude

authors: claire (@mermaidcashton) & laura (@maluminspace) ship/AU: michael clifford/ashton irwin, roommates AU prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” wordcount: 10k+ warnings: swearing, implied & explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘only human’ by the jonas brothers dance in the living room, love with an attitude *** The music was probably turned up a little too loud, but it helped to drown out the nerves starting to bubble away in Michael’s tummy. ‘I hope ‘Ashton’ likes MCR’ he thought as he half-heartedly wiped down the kitchen counters with a damp cloth. He wanted the place to look mildly tidier than it usually did for his new flatmate. First impressions counted for a lot, as his mum had told him twice this week already.

Once the splashes of milk from this morning’s mishap with the cereal had been washed away along with the crumbs from last night’s dinner of peanut butter on toast, he stole a quick glance at the clock on the wall over in the living room area. It wasn’t quite midday, which meant he had a little over an hour until his new roommate was due to arrive. That should mean that he just about had enough time to vacuum the whole flat and take a shower. Throwing the dishcloth into the little cleaning basket on the window ledge, Michael focused on screaming the lyrics to ‘Thank you for Venom’ and tried not to focus too much on the anxiety about the rest of the day.

Agreeing to live with someone he’d never met in person probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas. It’s not like Michael had been given much choice, though. His last flatmate had given him less than a week’s notice when she decided to move in with her short-term girlfriend and left Michael with a whole bunch of bills that his meagre paycheck could never stretch far enough to cover. Luckily, his best friend Luke had a work colleague who desperately needed a new place to live since his landlord had slapped him with a very short notice period to move out of his current flat. Luke had offered to give this work friend Michael’s contact details and the following morning, Michael had woken up to a text from a guy called Ashton who was very interested in Michael’s recently vacant spare room.

After explaining the cost of rent and other bills in a few subsequent texts, Michael had received a very grateful reply from Ashton asking if it would be possible to move in that weekend. Of course the blonde had agreed, eager to get the awkward first meeting out of the way as soon as possible.

Determined to get his most hated chore done before he could start collecting his thoughts and mentally preparing for the arrival of his new flatmate, Michael grabbed the portable hoover from the charging port on the tiny bit of the kitchen wall that was not taken up by the counters and cabinets. He was just about to press the ‘ON’ button when a knock at the door put an abrupt halt to his plans.

Michael huffed as he made his way over to the front door. The only people that had the security code for the entrance of the building were his parents and Luke, neither of which were due to visit today. That left only someone who had the wrong flat, or one other possible visitor; his neighbour, Calum. They’d hang out sometimes, whenever their days off matched up. Their shared interest in certain obscure and rare computer games and a mutual love of sushi and beer made for hours of fun without the chore of actually having to leave the building. Michael had definitely made sure to let Calum know that he was expecting his new flatmate to arrive today, though, so he was a little confused as to why his neighbour would be dropping by now.

That feeling only intensified when a glance through the spy hole on his front door revealed that Calum was accompanied by a stranger. He opened the door cautiously, still feeling a little bewildered.

“Hey, mate.” Calum grinned, waving a handful of unopened letters in greeting. “Just found this guy outside with a bunch of boxes. I knew you were expecting your new flatmate today, so I helped bring his stuff up.” His dark brown eyes surveyed Michael with something like confusion from beneath the rim of his seemingly ever-present black bucket hat.

Michael could only imagine that his neighbour was mirroring his own befuddled expression because Ashton wasn’t due to arrive for another hour. He forced himself to look over at the stranger, whilst his mind worked over what was happening.

It appeared that Calum was right in assuming this was Ashton. He was indeed carrying a large cardboard box labelled ‘bedroom’ that would definitely suggest he was moving house. There were also a bunch of smaller boxes piled against the wall beside the front door which supported that assumption.

“Do you guys need any more help?” Calum offered, “I’m free if…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Michael cut in quickly. “We can take it from here, thanks Cal.” The last thing Michael wanted was more people to see the apartment in its current state.

“No worries.” Calum smiled, “You know where I am if you change your mind.” He turned his attention to his little fluffy dog who had been patiently waiting for his post-walk nap. “C’mon Duke.”

Once Calum and his little fluff ball had wandered off across the hall towards their own apartment, Michael turned his attention back to Ashton. Three things struck him about his new flatmate in very quick succession;

Ashton was incredibly hot. His curly black hair hung loosely around his handsome face, framing his chiselled cheekbones and clean shaven, angular jaw beautifully. His hazel eyes were striking from behind the horn-rimmed glasses perched neatly on his perfectly ski-slope shaped nose.

He looked vaguely familiar. Michael knew that he’d seen Ashton’s face somewhere before but it wouldn’t quite click in his brain. Not that it would be entirely surprising if they’d met before, they did share a close friend after-all. It just seemed a little off that Luke hadn’t reminded Michael of the occasion they'd met at before suggesting they live together.

Despite his silence, Ashton looked somewhat annoyed, possibly bordering on angry. That struck Michael as odd. He had been known to piss people off fairly regularly but seeing as he’d barely even spoken to Ashton, this would be an all time record.

“So you must be Ashton…” Michael smiled, awkwardly tucking a strand of his messy blonde hair behind his ear whilst offering his free hand out for his new flatmate to shake. “I’m Michael, or you can call me Mike if you want. Most of my friends do.” Ashton didn’t accept the offer of a handshake, in fact he made no movement whatsoever. He simply glared at Michael with an increasing level of irritation. “Are you kidding me?”

Michael knew that he was not the prettiest of people. He dressed casually most of the time and due to Ashton’s early appearance, he’d not yet had a chance to shower and make himself a little more presentable. He didn’t think that he quite deserved such a cutting greeting, though. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you yet, I was just…”

“You don’t even remember me, do you?!” Ashton interrupted, his tone dripping of resentment now. “Fucking unbelievable!” Michael couldn’t remember ever feeling more confused in his life. Ashton hadn’t mentioned that they’d previously met in his text messages so why would he be so angry that Michael hadn’t immediately recognised him now?

The newcomer’s harsh tone had caught Calum’s attention, causing the neighbour to pause in sorting through his mail and stare unashamedly at the scene unfolding across the hall.

“This could only fucking happen to me…” Ashton huffed, adjusting his grip on the box in his arms. “I get turfed out of my flat because my landlord suddenly decides he wants it for his daughter and just when I think I’ve landed on my feet with a new place, my new fucking flatmate turns out to be a one night stand who doesn’t even remember me! Talk about kicking a guy when he’s down!”

Michael barely registered Calum’s audible gasp as realisation crashed around him. Suddenly the memory of the beautiful man that had swept Michael off his feet at a bar a few months back replayed in his head like a movie he’d seen once but hadn’t been able to remember the title of. He’d only known the guy as Ash and he’d assumed it was short for Ashley. Despite the fact that Ash’s hair had been a sexy shade of crimson, styled in a neat quiff and he hadn’t been wearing glasses, it was definitely the same guy that was standing in front of him right now.

“Ash…” the word escaped Michael almost of it’s own volition. “But I thought that was short for… oh my god, this can’t be happening.” He cupped his own face in his hands as the reality of the awkward situation began to settle into the very fibre of his being.

“Wow, you can’t make this shit up.” Calum gasped, an almost delighted smile on his face. “What’re you guys gonna do?”

Despite Calum’s annoying rubbernecking, it gave Michael the perfect excuse to look away from Ashton for a second. “Well I’m gonna throw something at you, if you don’t get lost right now, Calum.” He hissed.

“He’s not the one coming across like a shithead right now.” Ashton scoffed, setting the box in his arms onto the floor. “Being a nosey neighbour still makes you a hell of a better person than the guy that flatters their way into your bed and gives you amazing sex but then gives you a fake number!”

“That’s right.” Calum agreed. “People that do that are the worst. At least have the balls to tell the other person you’re not looking for anything long term before you disappear the next day.”

“Calum, I swear to god…” Michael hissed.

Ashton shook his head angrily. “He’s right, if you never wanted to see me again, you could have just said. I wouldn’t have wasted some of my best moves on you.”

“Oh, what were the moves?” Calum smirked, prying his way further into the conversation.

His neighbour’s blatant disregard for the seriousness of the situation was annoying to say the least. It was also the last thing Michael needed to deal with right now. “Piss off, Calum!”, he snapped.

Duke yapped disapprovingly at Michael, his tiny eyes focused on the blonde man as his human’s smirk grew even further across his face.

“Oh, you can shut up as well!” Michael snapped at the tiny pooch. “Now you’re yelling at a dog.” Ashton rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s a good thing you blew me off, looks like I had a lucky escape from dating an arsehole!” Michael really couldn’t envisage the situation getting any worse. At this rate he was going to be searching for another roommate instead of enjoying a pleasant lunch with this one, like he’d hoped.

“I didn’t give you a fake number!” Michael protested. “I swear, I’m not like that, and I really liked you! I broke my phone, the same weekend we...met.” He felt his cheeks begin to colour, trying his hardest to ignore Calum’s snort as he focused on Ashton’s disbelieving face.

“It took me two weeks to sort out a new one, I had a little pay as you go in between, I had a different number, and I-you did call, then?” Michael paused his blurted explanations to blurt out a question, instead. He had been wondering every time it was late and he was alone for 6 months whether or not he’d missed a call from the best one night stand of his life.

“Of course I did!” Ashton threw his hands up in exasperation, startling Duke and sending him scuttling back into the still-open doorway of the opposite flat. “I thought we had a connection, we said we wanted to see each other again; that doesn’t happen that often for me! Maybe it does for you…”

��Oh, it definitely doesn’t.” Calum smirked. “The only man who comes to see Michael regularly is the Domino’s delivery guy.”

Before Michael could blow up at him, Calum backed up properly into his flat, resting his hand on his front door. “It’s a shame, actually,” he continued, smiling encouragingly at his neighbour. “Michael is really a great guy. He always has time for me and Duke; whether it’s for beers, a listening ear, or belly rubs.”

He throws a wink to Ashton as he shuts his front door with a click. “I’ll leave you to figure out which one is for me. Welcome to the building!”

Michael knows he needs to gain control of the slightly-stunned silence left in Calum’s wake, fast. He needs to say something apologetic, or charming, or cool. “Do you like fish fingers?” Or that.

Ashton blinked a few times in quick succession, and Michael wanted to throw himself down the stairs.

“Do I like fish fingers?” Ashton repeated, pushing his long black hair back with both hands.

Michael flushed again, at least thankful for the fact that he no longer had an audience for the most embarrassing encounter of his life. “It’s just, I thought we could have lunch, and talk, and I’m not really much of a cook, but I have fish fingers, right, and everyone likes fish finger sandwiches...don’t they…” He trailed off, hoping Luke perhaps had another co-worker who needed immediate accommodation.

Ashton fixed him with the most intense stare he’d ever received in a conversation about freezer food, and Michael tried to match his unrelenting gaze in a way that would make him look less like he wanted to cry. Ashton’s eyes really were beautiful, seeming almost magnified by his glasses. He looked thoughtful and sad now, rather than judgmental and angry, and Michael would take that.

“I do.” Ashton decided on, after what felt like an eternity. He stooped down to pick up his box again, muscles tensing, and Michael’s mind began to wander.

He remembered Ashton’s arms looking just like that as he lifted him up for the last few feet of the journey to the redhead-at-the-time’s bed. Michael could almost feel his fingers digging into the bare skin of his thighs all over again. The memories of slow, wet, considered neck kisses being broken with teeth, and the delicious burn that started low and spread like wildfire as Ashton stretched him out like he was born to do it.

“Michael? After you?” Michael snapped out of his daze, dragging his eyes away from Ashton’s lips where they had landed at some point in his reminiscing. He stepped back so Ashton could enter the flat and set the box down by the sofa. “Yeah, great, come in, make yourself at home, I’ll get the rest of your boxes!” As soon as he was outside in the corridor, Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘Okay, Clifford - you need to snap out of it. Relax and smooth things over so you two can live together.’ He told himself, as sternly as he could manage. ‘We need a roommate more than we need to get laid.’

‘That’s debatable.’ Another voice - which sounded more like Calum than himself - chimed in before Michael shook it off and picked up the stack of cardboard boxes cluttering up the corridor.

‘Okay, you can do this. Damage control. Just be normal. Go in and face this head on. You can do this.’ Michael murmured, running his tongue over his bitten lips as he took his first steps back to where Ashton was waiting.

He hip-checked the front door closed as he re-entered the flat, placing the boxes next to one Ashton had carried in, before straightening up to see Ashton sat on the sofa, looking both nervous and delicious.

“I…” Michael faltered under Ashton’s almost shy gaze, then caught sight of a slice of Ashton’s firm, hairy stomach from where his t-shirt was riding up slightly.

“I just need to go to the bathroom. Then we can...talk, and eat. Okay?” Michael forced what he hoped was a casual, winning smile, and then scuttled across to the bathroom the moment Ashton made a noise of agreement and nodded his head.

Michael clicked the lock shut and put the toilet lid down as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. He began tapping away with urgency as he took a seat on the toilet, pulling up his message thread with his best friend.

SOS!!!! 🚨

Luke!!!!

Where are you

LUKE FUCK HELP ME YOU DICK

With each message he sent, Michael could feel his panic beginning to swell back up in his chest. Finally, three dots began moving across the message to indicate Luke was writing. Help was on the way.

🥺🥺🥺 What’s up

Michael felt what he knew was an unjustified rage at Luke and his fucking emojis as he furiously typed a reply.

Oh nothing, I just had sex with my new roomate!!!

Michael jumped when his phone immediately started vibrating relentlessly, sliding his finger across the screen and holding it gingerly to his ear.

“Hello?” He whispered into the receiver.

“WHAT!!! What do you mean you’ve slept with him?! Ashton was due there at 12, and it’s now...12 minutes past 12! That’s INSANE, even for you! I cannot believe-”

“Luke!” Michael hissed through clenched teeth, turning on the cold tap on the sink before he spoke again. “Not today, idiot! Remember, months ago, when I broke my phone? That weekend, I hooked up with that guy I met at The Alchemist? Red hair, big arms, amazing mouth-”

“Yes, I remember! What’s that got to do with it?” Luke cut in.

“It was Ashton. I only knew him as Ash, remember? And obviously I never saw him again because I had no way to contact him after I broke my phone. But it’s him, Luke - he’s in my living room! In OUR living room! What am I gonna do?! I am freaking out!”

“Oh my God! You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Mike! You’ve had your new roommates dick in your mouth before he even moved in! Classic you.”

Michael could practically hear Luke’s eyeroll. “This is not classic me! Dick! Help me, Luke!”

“What do you want me to do, I can’t unfuck him for you!” Luke shot back. Michael let out an involuntary whimper and slumped further down on the toilet. He was so screwed.

***

Michael emerged from the bathroom, Luke’s advice ringing in his ears as he approached Ashton on the sofa. ‘He’s a really nice guy, Mike; just talk to him. Explain what happened after you hooked up, and say you hope you can put it behind you and be friends. I think he’ll be cool, honestly. Just try not to trip and land on his dick and you should be golden.’

He took one last deep breath as he sat down on the black leather beside his one-time lover.

“So, Ashton...I...listen, I’m sorry that I broke my phone and made you think I’d ghosted you. I’m just an idiot that dropped his phone outside Sainsbury’s. And I’m really sorry I didn’t recognise you straight away, I was just expecting someone I hadn’t, and your hair, and glasses, and-” Michael could feel himself starting to babble but he couldn’t stop himself; he was so desperate for Ashton to like him. He was trying not to think about why it was this important to him.

Ashton held his hand up to stop him with a small smile. “Michael, it’s okay.”

Michael stopped short in his unravelling with a look of surprise. “It is?”

Ashton’s smile grew wider. “Yeah. I was just a bit blindsided, and I was hurt at the time back then, you know? But you explained, you apologised, and you seem like a nice guy. Luke sure can’t talk you up enough, and I trust him. I have no reason not to believe this is gonna be all good.”

Michael blinked, unsure if this was too good to be true. “Yeah? So...we’re good? You’re gonna...stay?”

Ashton relaxed back into his seat, toeing his shoes off and under the coffee table. “If that’s okay with you, yeah. We’re both grown ups; we can keep it platonic and put the past behind us, right? Friends?”

Michael nodded, trying to hide the gulp in his throat. “Yeah, of course. Right. Great. Friends.” He could definitely do this.

***

He could definitely not do this.

It’d been a long one month, two weeks and three days of trying to convince himself that he didn’t want to be anything more than Ashton’s friend and roommate.

Some days, Michael thought it was possible to put those lingering feelings away and focus on their blossoming platonic relationship. After all, Ashton was everything most people could ever want in a flatmate. He was tidy, considerate, fairly quiet and respectful of personal boundaries. The slightly older man was also great company. Michael has had many pleasant conversations with him over breakfast and in the evenings before they went to bed.

As lovely as all of that was, Michael had started questioning if it was worth the growing ache in chest for more. Each new thing he learnt about Ashton made him more sure that he was probably the closest thing to the perfect man that Michael would ever know. It was a cruel twist of fate that had meant his one opportunity to have Ashton for himself had slipped through his fingers, quite literally. He cursed himself on a daily basis for that one clumsy moment when he’d fumbled pulling his old phone from his too-tight jeans outside the supermarket and had been forced to watch his only chance with Ashton sink into a muddy puddle.

Whatever higher powers existed had been even less kind to have that strong, gorgeous, well-hung man turn up on Michael’s doorstep months later, as his only hope of being able to keep the flat he’d grown to love.

Every day since then, seemed to have presented a new challenge or torture. First it was the tight t-shirts and vests Ashton wore more often than not. They accentuated every muscle of the raven-haired man’s torso and displayed his strong biceps in all their glory.

Then came the sleepy morning routine they’d subconsciously fallen into. Ashton would emerge from his room in nothing but his loose grey sweats and crooked glasses, his hair ruffled and his eyes heavily lidded, before joining Michael for a hasty breakfast which usually consisted of cereal or toast and mug of strong coffee. It was during these sluggish mornings when they’d started to bond over their mutual love of crime dramas and fantasy movies, among other things. That had naturally led to evening-long Criminal Minds marathons whole weekends debating whether the Lord of the Rings movies or the Harry Potter movies were the better adaptations of their original books. Those playful arguments had spilled over into text messages now, so Michael couldn’t even escape his torturous living situation when he went to work.

Despite all of that hardship, the most latest and arguably the toughest challenge Michael found himself facing, was Ashton’s morning yoga. At first, the older man had kept that part of his morning routine confined to his bedroom. For some reason or another, over the last week or so, Ashton had decided that the living area was a more suitable location for this activity.

If Michael thought that sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton was hot, then sleepy, shirtless morning Ashton doing the ‘downward dog’ was positively off the fucking scale. The way his large hands pressed into the yoga mat and the way his strong arms and legs tensed as he straightened his back and pushed his arse up into the air lingered in Michael’s mind all day. These images often flickered through his mind at night too, when he was alone in his bed with nothing but his hand for company.

Deciding that a little get together with some friends would help dispel some of the tension, Michael floats the idea of asking Calum and Luke over for a ‘lads night’. Ashton had agreed easily, being a generally social person, he’d seemed enthusiastic about the possibility of hosting a mini party.

A group message is created and it doesn’t take long to settle on the following Friday night for beer, snacks and a FIFA tournament.

Ashton seemed to have been looking forward to it, often mentioning how excited he was to get to know Calum better and asking Michael to help him decide between certain snacks to purchase for the occasion.

All in all, Michael was proud of himself for the idea, focusing on hosting a couple of friends had certainly given both him and Ashton something new to focus on.

It was only when Friday arrived that Michael started to doubt his plan. Watching Ashton arrange plates of snacks on the kitchen counter, with the cutest concentration face he’d ever seen, started to make Michael wish they were spending the evening alone instead. He quickly pushes the thought of his head, berating himself for thinking something so stupid. It’s not like anything could happen between them even if they were alone, they were roommates now, that’s where their relationship ends.

“So....” Ashton broke the silence enveloping the flat as he finished pouring a bag of cheesy Doritos into a bowl. “Did you finally solve the mystery of who was stealing people’s shit from your fridge at work?”

Michael was caught off guard by the question. He’d been watching Ashton so intently that he momentarily forgot about everything else. It took him a moment to remember that he’d been keeping Ashton up to date with the ongoing lunch burglar drama at the DIY store he worked at. “Oh, umm no, not yet! But Brenda finally told Linda to stick her fake friendship where the sun doesn’t shine.”

A genuinely delighted smile burst into Ashton’s face as he headed into the living room area. “Good for her! Linda sounds like a bitch…”

It really meant a lot to Michael that Ashton took such an interest in his work life. The fact that he cared so much about people he didn’t know, but was aware they meant a lot to Michael, was also heartwarming.

Before Michael could go into more detail about the break time drama, a knock at the front door interrupted him. “Oh yay! Our first guest!” Ashton beamed, jogging off towards the front door to greet Calum.

***

As soon as the beer and wine had started flowing, Michael’s ever-present pining for Ashton dulled to an almost non existent haze at the edges of his mind. Sure, his knees felt weak every time Ashton flashes him that dopey smile of his and he might have blushed whenever their knees touched as they competed against each other in a thrilling game of virtual soccer.

That was all better than his usual all-consuming lust, so Michael was somewhat proud of himself. He even managed to surprise the urge to let Ashton win their game, and was almost smug when his player sent the football flying past Ashton’s keeper to secure a 2-1 win.

“Motherfucker!” Ashton grumbled, throwing his control pad into the sofa as he fixed Michael with look that was almost definitely the hottest gaze he’d ever been caught under. “I’m gonna get you for that, Clifford.” It sounded like a promise that held more weight than the simple challenge to a rematch it was probably meant to be.

Michael had to fight back a whimper, staring into Ashton’s beautiful hazel eyes this closely was too much. The intensity of it all rendered him momentarily speechless and he was all-too glad when Ashton got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

“I need to drown my sorrows.” The black-haired man laughed, breaking the tension that had descended on them before heading off to the kitchen. Ignoring the knowing looks from his two friends, Michael picked up Ashton’s discarded controller and tossed it to Luke. “Your turn to face me, Hemmings. Let’s see if I can beat my all time record of beating you 6-1”

“Fuck off! You have never beat me that badly.” Luke huffed, picking up the control pad that had just landed in his lap. “I’m gonna enjoy kicking your ass in front of your new boy-“

“Shit, we’re out of beers already!” Ashton’s interruption came at exactly the right moment in Michael’s opinion. He really hadn’t wanted Luke to finish that sentence and now he wouldn’t get the chance.

“I’ll go to the shop for some more, does anyone have specific requests?” The eldest friend asked as he traipsed back into the living room area.

“Oh you don’t have to go!” Michael shrugged, “you should stay here, we’ll send Luke instead, he sucks at this game anyway.”

Luke scoffed, waving his hand defensively. “You’re not getting out of playing me that easily!”

Ashton laughed, his eyes sparkling as he checked that his wallet was still in his jeans pocket. “It’s fine. I’m already out of the competition and I wouldn’t want to give anyone else an unfair advantage.”

Maybe it was just the effects of the beers he’d already drank, but Michael could have sworn that Ashton’s gaze lingered on him a little longer than it probably should have. “You’re too nice.” The blonde beamed fondly, “I’ll transfer you my half of the money in the morning, unless you wanna take a tenner from my room?”

“Oh is that an open invitation?” Calum asked, a lazy smile curling the corners of his lips. “You owe me at least that from when we bet on whether or not Luke could drink that tzatziki sauce last time.”

“Fuck off, Calum! I don’t owe you a penny, I won that bet, Luke’s a fucking wuss…”

“Hey! I am not!” Luke interrupted incredulously.

“Okay, I need to hear that whole story when I get back!” Ashton giggled. “I’ll just grab a case of whatever beer is the cheapest though, yeah.”

There was a general murder of agreement before Ashton headed out of the front door. Michael fond him watching until Ashton had disappeared into the hallway, swinging the front door closed behind him. “He’s so nice…” The blonde sighed dreamily, still gazing at the closed front door. “Don’t you think he’s just the best?”

Calum and Luke exchanged a ‘is he for real’ glance before silently agreeing that this was the perfect opportunity to tease Michael about his blatant love for Ashton.

“Yeah, he’s pretty special.” Calum agreed, smirking slyly. “You really can’t sing his praises highly enough, can you?”

Shaking his head, Michael finally returned his attention to the TV. “You really can’t, he’s just so kind and sweet.”

Calum nodded in agreement. “Not bad to look at either!”

“Right?!” Michael giggled, oblivious to the fact that his tipsiness was making his lips too loose.

“Hey Mike.” Luke cut in, reaching over to nudge his friend’s shoulder. “How’s being in love with your flatmate working out for you?” His conversational tone was entirely at odds with mischief in his eyes. It confused Michael but the youngest friend’s words were altogether too bold, a blatant overstep if ever there was one.

Despite his inner rage at being called out like this, Michael fumbled, unable to cobble together an appropriate response. “Ugh, I don’t even… You’re so far-“

“There’s no point denying it anymore.” Calum chuckled, “I can feel the sexual tension between you two from across the hall!”

“God, I bet it’s like watching a car crash, isn’t it?” Luke asked, picking up the bowl of M&M’s on the coffee table. “It’s horrific but you can’t tear your eyes away? Am I right?”

Calum nodded. “It’s like watching a bad fucking soap opera.”

Michael felt offended and embarrassed but still no words seemed to form coherently in his mouth.

“At least it’s a bit less tragic now we can be sure it’s not entirely one sided!” Luke stage whispered with a calculating look on his face as he met Calum’s gaze.

“Yeah, it’s mildly less irritating!” Calum laughed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Michael sputtered. “Ash and I agreed that our one night stand is ancient history, we’re not-“

“Oh puh-lease!” Calum scoffed. “If you two haven’t fucked again by the end of this month I’ll eat my bucket hat.”

***

Ashton had returned with a case of twenty four bottles of beer and as a result, lad’s night had ended up running into the early hours of Saturday morning.

Having drank his way through more than his fair share of that case, Michael didn’t end up rising from his pit until noon had long since been and gone.

“Ah you are still alive!” Ashton chuckled, tearing his attention away from the TV to look at his flatmate.

This was definitely not fucking fair. Michael didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that he looked exactly as he felt - rough as all hell. Ashton on the other hand, still looked as dreamy as ever. His black curls, although slightly ruffled and fluffy, were still on the stylish side of messy and he’d somehow found the motivation to get dressed, too, something Michael wasn’t even contemplating.

“I’m glad you’re up now, though, I wondered if you had anything planned for dinner?” Ashton asked, peering at Michael from behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

The thought of food made Michael’s stomach lurch unpleasantly and he had to fight to hold back a wretch.

Ashton gives a sympathetic giggle before pausing his show and rising to his feet. “I’ll take that as a no. Don’t worry, buddy. I have a plan but first…” he jogged over to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “Why don't you go and take a shower while I make you a tea? You’ll feel better after that and then we will talk dinner!”

As Michael plods over to the bathroom, he shoots one last look over at Ashton, busily preparing mugs on the countertop and tries his absolute hardest to remember a time that he wasn’t in love with his flatmate.

***

As always, Ashton was proven to be 100% correct.

Michael felt a million times better once he was showered and snuggled on the sofa with a mug of steaming tea.

“You look a little more alive now.” Ashton smirked, sparing Michael a sideways glance before returning his attention to ‘Law and Order’. “Do you think you can handle talking about dinner yet?”

The ache in Michael’s stomach felt a lot more like hunger than it had done when he first woke up and the thought of food didn’t make him feel like throwing up anymore so he nodded. “What’re your plans, chef?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned a rosy pink as he shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to see you try to cobble together another freezer meal so I thought you might like me to teach you a simple pasta dish?” He suggested, his tone a little shy like he was worried what Michael’s reaction would be. “I’ll do most of the work, but I thought if you helped out, you’ll learn how to make something other than Super Noodles.”

Michael couldn’t even be mad at the subtle dig at his cooking skills. He was terrible in the kitchen and it was just a little embarrassing that Ashton had noticed just how dyer his cooking skills were. “When you say simple, do you mean like a recipe and technique you can write on the back of a postage stamp because that’s about the level of my skill.”

Rolling his eyes, Ashton casually threw his arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Don't be so hard in yourself, buddy! I once taught Luke how to make scrambled eggs on the stove so he didn’t have to be a savage and use the microwave anymore, so there’s definitely hole for you, I promise.”

Michael tried to focus on the hat Ashton was saying but all that his slow, hungover brain could process was that he was pressed against his stupidly gorgeous flat mate’s side. The heady smell of Ashton’s minty body wash and the soft scent of his fabric conditioner felt intoxicating and Michael could do nothing besides allow his head to drop into Ashton’s shoulder.

To the blonde’s surprise, Ashton shuffle away or call him out on it. He simply rests his own head on Michael’s and laughs. “We’ll make a chef of you yet, Clifford.” He promised.

***

They spent a good three hours, watching reruns of C.S.I and making plans to start a Marvel movie marathon after dinner. They sat close to each other the whole time and Michael noticed Ashton watching him from the corner of his eye on at least three separate occasions.

By the time Ashton suggested they start making dinner, Michael had gone over his conversation with Calum and Luke the previous night, about sixty times. His two best friends had convinced him that Ashton wanted Michael just as much as Michael wanted Ashton.

“The way he looks at you, dude.” Calum laughed. “He’s practically imagining you naked at any given moment. It’s getting uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Michael reprimanded. “He doesn’t think of me like that anymore. We had a one night thing months ago. That’s it. Nothing else will ever happen between us again, we’re just flatmates.”

Calum and Luke exchanged a sceptical glance before bursting into laughter.

“Yeah right!” Luke huffed sarcastically. “Do you know how many times I hear your name come out of his mouth at work these days?”

Michael’s cheeks reddened. He had no idea that Ashton talked about him at work. It felt kind of surreal to imagine his roommate relaying snippets of their home life to Luke.

“Let me guess!” Calum interrupted. “About a thousand…”

Nodding, Luke drained the last of his beer. “Yeah and that’s just before lunch!”

“Honestly, if they don’t bang soon I’m gonna knock their heads together.” Calum sighed. “Did you know Michael comes over to my place most mornings so he doesn’t have to watch Ashton do topless yoga?” He asked Luke disbelievingly. “I want my lie-in’s back!”

At the time, Michael hadn’t believed his friends. He didn’t think that there was even a remote possibility that Ashton still carried a torch for him. But in the clear light of day, Michael couldn’t deny that all the signs were there… perhaps there could be more between them after all.

He followed Ashton into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his grey oversized sweater, trying to clear his mind enough to be able to process learning a new skill.

“Okay, this is like the simplest recipe I know but it’s delicious and tastes so much better than the freezer junk you usually make for yourself.” Ashton rambles as he grabs a saucepan and a frying pan from the shelf near the cooker.

“Hey, freezer junk has been my lifeline on many occasions, I’d probably be dead without it.” Michael scoffed, only half joking.

Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, handing Michael the saucepan. “Fill this with water for me and then put it on the back hob, while it’s boiling I’ll teach you how to make the sauce.”

As Michael carried out his instructions, he couldn’t help but admire the concentration on Ashton’s face when he began rifling through the fridge and cupboard, pulling out various ingredients.

Once the pan of water was safely on the job Ashton had indicated, Michael returned his full attention to the slightly older man.

“Right, the first thing we do for the sauce is put 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil into this cold pan.” Ashton explained, pushing his glasses up his nose a little, reminding Michael of a hot English teacher or something… fuck, it was already difficult enough for Michael to concentrate without random fantasies about Ashton fucking him over a desk running through his mind. “Usually I’d never add oil to a cold pan, but for this particular recipe, it works because if the pan was already hot, the first ingredients would burn before the rest was in there.”

There was something about the way Ashton talked with such passion and confidence that made Michael wish he was confident enough to just drag him to the bedroom, his need for more from Ashton becoming unbearable. He forced himself to nod, pretending like he understood when really, Ashton could be telling him absolutely anything right now, and Michael would not know the difference because all he can think about is the way Ashton had groaned at the feeling of Michael’s nails running down his back and how he’d growled Michael’s name as he neared his climax.

“Can you pass me the basil?” Ashton asked, pulling Michael out of his memory.

The blonde surveyed the ingredients on the countertop. Luckily he recognised most of them, so he picked up the basil by process of elimination and handed it to Ashton like a dutiful sous chef.

Ashton looked mildly impressed as he took the bag of basil and took out handful. “We want about ten or so decent sized leaves and we tear them in half before adding them to the oil, okay?” He waited for Michael’s nod of understanding before tearing the leaves in his hand and dropping them into the pan.

“Then we need to chop 6-8 cloves of garlic directly into the pan.” Michael looked back at the little stack of ingredients and frowned, noticing an instant problem. “We only have one clove of garlic…” he pointed out, biting his bottom lip worriedly.

Ashton burst out laughing as he picked the garlic up from the counter. “This is a whole bulb, babe…” he explained, apparently not even noticing his use of the supposedly accidental pet name.

It was difficult for Michael to feel too offended by Ashton’s laughter when he’d just called him babe, though, so he let it go, focusing on the term of endearment, no matter how accidental it might have been, rather than the humour at his dumb mistake.

“It’s the smaller, wedge shaped pieces that are cloves, please don’t mix that up if you make this without my help.” Ashton chuckled, breaking six cloves from the bulb and picking up a tiny knife he’d laid out next to the oven.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Michael pouted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”

Ashton gave him a fond smile. “You’re not alone in that, I promise…”

It was hard not to feel comforted by Ashton’s lopsided smile, so most of his embarrassment slipped away fairly quickly.

“I just chop off the little hard parts at the bottom of each clove and peel the skin off before chopping it directly into the pan. Don’t chop it on a board or you’ll lose some of the flavour.” Ashton explained carefully.

Michael watched with interest as Ashton demonstrated his technique with the first two cloves. He handed the third to Michael along with the knife and gestures for him to add it to the pan.

It took him probably three times longer to chop that one clove into the pan, than it took Ashton to do the first two, but he was encouraging and patient. The older man praised Michael for completing the tiny task, seeming genuinely impressed.

Once all six cloves of garlic had been added to the pan, Ashton turned on the hob into a medium heat. “Okay, so we stir this together for about five minutes. Can you do that while I open the tin of tomatoes?”

Michael nodded, picking up the wooden spoon from the counter and storing the simmering ingredients together. It already kinda smelt like his favourite Italian restaurant and his tummy grumbled impatiently.

“One thing I should specify is, you need to use tins of whole tomatoes, not chopped.” Ashton explained as he poured the first tin of tomatoes into the sizzling pan. “Can you pour in the second one?”

Michael did as he was told and watched as Ashton squished the whole tomatoes down and stored them into the red eat of the ingredients.

“Mmm it smells so good.” Michael sighed, breathing in the delicious smells.

Ashton looked proud of himself as he offered a smile. “Can you take over the stirring while I add the salt?”

Michael took the spoon from Ashton, ensuring that their fingers brushed.

There was a moment of eye contact and a silent shifting of tension between the two of them. If ever there was a time to bite the bullet and kiss Ashton, now would be it. His nerves failed him though and he dropped his gaze to the simmering pan.

Instead of moving around Michael to pick up the salt as he’d done for the tomatoes, Ashton simply reached past the blonde, pushing him against the counter momentarily before he pulled back to add the salt to the pan.

If Michael had been fully alert, he’d have recognised that for the flirtatious move it was meant to be, as it was, he put it down to a simple lack of judgement on Ashton’s part and continued to concentrate on stirring the sauce.

***

The tomato pasta tasted as good as it had smelt. It turned out to be exactly what Michael’s hungover body had needed.

He and Ashton had eaten it at their little table in the kitchen. Conversation had flowed freely as always, skirting around flirtatious at times but never quite enough for Michael to pluck up the courage to take things further.

“The only thing that would have made that better would have been a nice glass of white wine, but I thought you were still a bit too delicate for that.” Ashton giggled as he picked up the empty plates from the table and carried them over to the kitchen sink.

“Hey, you drank as much as I did!” Michael pouted, picking up the empty glasses and following Ashton to the sink. “How’re you not hungover.”

Ashton chuckled as he ran the water into the washing up bowl. “You’re just a lightweight, Mikey.”

It wasn’t the first time Michael had been called that so it didn’t take him by surprise. He laughed it off as he grabbed a tea cloth ready to dry the dishes that Ashton washed. “One day you’ll stop teasing me, Irwin.”

Ashton shook his head. “Don’t count on it, babe… you’re too easy to make fun of, that’s not my fault.”

There it was again, that little slip, a fond nickname that roommates probably shouldn’t have for one another.

Quickly pulling himself together, Michael nudged his flatmate in the arm, just hard enough to pull a surprised “oof” from him.

“Careful now.” Ashton warned jokingly. “You don’t want to start a scuffle you can’t finish, Clifford.”

Michael threw caution to the wind and nudged Ashton again, deliberately keeping his gaze on the plate he was drying.

“That’s it!” Ashton huffed, scooping up a handful of bubbles and swiping them across Michael’s face.

The blonde spluttered and shook his damp fringe out of his face before fixing Ashton with a glare. A few acts of retaliation flashed through his mind. He could have whipped Ashton with the tea cloth or splashed him with dishwater but none of that happened.

There was something about the way Ashton’s eyes were sparkling, almost like he was daring Michael to do the thing he’d been too scared to do this whole time. He refused to let another opportunity pass like before when they were making the pasta sauce. Michael tried not to overthink as he stepped forward and cupped Ashton’s face with one hand before leaning in and kissing him.

The raven-haired man’s lips felt every bit as soft as they had done on that night seven months ago. Ashton didn’t kiss back with the same hunger and desperation that he had done back then, though.

Michael stepped back, feeling his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed blush. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Ash…”

Ashton bit his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at Michael intently. “No…” He said, finally breaking his silence. “You just shouldn’t have waited so long.”

The older man’s words had barely penetrated Michael’s brain before he was being pressed against the counter behind him. Ashton’s lips were on his again but this time they were working just like they had been that night at Ashton’s old place.

The intense kiss pulled a whine from Michael and he automatically wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck.

It started as a fairly simple kiss but it quickly began to build momentum. It was the crack in the dam holding back all of their emotions for all this time.

“Ashton…” Michael gasped as they pulled apart for air. “I know we said we should just be friends but…”

“Fuck being just friends.” Ashton mumbled as he worked kisses down Michael's neck. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

Those words were all Michael needed to hear in order to relax into this. “I can’t tell you how bad I’ve wanted this.” He whispered.

Ashton slipped one of his thighs between Michael’s as he nipped at the blonde’s neck. “I think I have some idea.” He groaned. “I never stopped thinking of the way you moaned my name that night, Michael.” The older man confessed, pulling back just enough to look Michael in the eye. “Wanted it again since the moment I walked in here.”

The way Ashton was looking at him like he wanted to devour every inch of Michael, had the blonde melting. “Me too.” He crashed his lips against Ashton’s in another desperate kiss as he subconsciously rutted against the older man’s thigh. After the months Michael had spent feeling kind of lonely and touch-starved, the tiny amount of friction was enough to have him whimpering against Ashton’s lips.

“Uh, you sound and taste even better than I remember.” Ashton muttered, pressing his thigh harder against Michael’s crotch to pull another little gasp from him.

“Ashton! Fuck, please, I…” Michael’s head tipped back as he lost his fight to regain any sort of control over his own body. He was in Ashton’s control now, and Ashton knew it.

“Come on…” Ashton coaxed, stepping back from Michael as he took both of his hands in his to pull him away from the kitchen counter. Michael whined high in his throat as he easily followed where Ashton led.

Michael had hardly been into Ashton’s bedroom since he had helped him move some furniture the day he moved in; it had almost felt too intimate to go into Ashton’s personal space given the history between them. Seeing it now, cozy and dark with slithers of light coming through the window from the lamp posts outside, gave Michael a chill; it felt like Ashton was sharing a secret with him.

He followed Ashton’s lead dutifully all the way to the bed, accepting the deep kiss Ashton offered him as a reward, before the older man peeled his oversized sweater from his torso, breaking away to pull it over Michael’s head. Michael wanted more contact, but was disappointed when Ashton gently but decisively laid him down among the crisp sheets, instead.

Ashton pulled his own t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion and flicked the lamp on his bedside table on, bathing the bed in a warm glow that made Michael feel like he was in a dream.

Michael gazed in wonder at Ashton as he climbed into bed beside him, letting his eyes travel all over his arms and chest, taking in the extra tone and definition in his body since the last time he’d been able to stare at him like this; clearly, the yoga was doing more than just allowing Ashton to ‘find his centre’.

He didn’t think he was anything special to look at, but he could see Ashton mirroring his own actions, eyes full of lust searching all over the parts of Michael’s body he could see, and even his gaze lingering on a part he couldn’t.

“Ash,” Michael breathed out, surprising himself with how far gone he sounded already. “Take ‘em off, I wanna…” He trailed off as Ashton’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, holding eye contact for only a moment before he nodded almost imperceptibly, shuffling down the bed and taking hold of the waistband of Michael’s sweatpants. He returned his gaze to the pale man before him, biting his own lip as he allowed his fingertips to graze the skin of Michael’s hips. “These too?” Ashton questioned in a low voice as he brushed the fabric of Michael’s underwear.

“Oh God, yeah”, Michael answered, squirming slightly from the infuriatingly gentle feel of Ashton’s touch. Ashton didn’t need to be told twice. Michael shivered with the feeling of being suddenly completely exposed as his sweatpants and underwear hit the carpet. Michael looked up at Ashton through his lashes, braced up on his knees in his black, ripped jeans. “You’d better be planning on losing those in the next second, Irwin.”

Ashton smirked as he undid his jeans. “And I mean your underwear, too!” Michael amended hastily, hungry to see if his memory of Ashton’s body was accurate.

The dark-haired man’s smirk grew wider at Michael’s clarification, pulling his zip down and allowing his jeans to fall open, exposing only bare skin beneath. “Underwear?”

Michael’s jaw dropped a little, prompting a deliciously filthy laugh from his roommate. “For the record, roomie - I don’t wear underwear.” Ashton winked as he yanked his jeans down as far as he could in his current position, before wriggling around to pull them off completely. Michael was pleased to see that, if anything, his memory had been selling Ashton short. Blame it on the alcohol.

Michael didn’t know how to decide on what to do first; on one hand, he wanted to kiss Ashton non-stop for the rest of eternity, but on the other hand, if he didn’t get filled up in the next 10 minutes, he was definitely going to throw a tantrum. Luckily, he realised, it probably wasn’t up to him. All of his experience with Ashton so far told him that the older man would definitely be taking the lead, and this was definitely not a problem for Michael. Indeed, it had worked out very well for him last time, when his staff night out started at the bar and ended with Ashton eating him out like his life depended on it.

“What are you thinking?” Ashton’s sultry voice broke through his thoughts, apparently wanting a coherent answer despite the fact that he had just begun to run his fingers up and down Michael’s sensitive, pale inner thighs. Michael let out a shuddery breath as he tried to use his words to tell Ashton he wanted anything and everything possible between them, right there and then. Perhaps the way his cock twitched when Ashton let one his nails run over a faded stretch mark right at the base of one of his thighs would speak for itself.

“Maybe we should get right to, huh, gorgeous?” Ashton teased, withdrawing his touches to lean towards his bedside table. He pulled open the top drawer, fumbling only for a moment until he found what he was looking for. The lube and condom were dropped carelessly onto the mattress as he shut the drawer again, returning his attention to the man almost-beneath him immediately. “We’ve got plenty of time for all the other goods stuff; right now, I need to fuck you, and I know you need me to fuck you...don’t you?”

Michael wondered at what point in his life he had begun to communicate exclusively in whines, but Ashton seemed to be into it, so it didn’t matter. Michael watched impatiently as Ashton popped the top on the half-empty bottle of lube, wasting no time in squirting a generous amount onto two fingers on his right hand and pulling Michael’s leg fully around his hip with his left.

Michael’s heart jumped as much as his cock when Ashton breathed gently on the lube coating his fingers in an attempt to warm it slightly before he brought them straight down to Michael’s bare hole, rubbing over it in a firm circle.

Michael was glad he didn’t have the problem of not wanting his roommate to hear him getting fucked, anymore, as he let out his loudest, neediest whine yet. Ashton proved he had meant what he said about not taking their time with their second tryst, sinking his index finger inside Michael in one fluid motion. Before Michael had got to 10, Ashton was opening him up at a steady, delicious pace and was driving Michael crazy in record time.

Michael wouldn’t claim to be a pornstar or anything, but he didn’t normally have a problem with stamina. If Ashton kept it up like this, though, Michael was in danger of coming before Ashton’s thick cock got any closer to him, and that was unacceptable.

“Ash, please, I can’t...I want, ne-your cock, please!” Michael cried out as Ashton probed his spot one last time before immediately acquiescing to Michael’s begging. Michael wriggled at the loss of Ashton’s fingers, but took comfort in the fact that Ashton was already tearing the condom packet open.

Michael watched in awe-tinged anticipation as Ashton gave himself a couple of loose tugs once he had the condom on, before closing in on his lover once more, making sure Michael was laid comfortably on the pillows as he positioned himself over him. Michael clung to Ashton’s shoulders as he lined himself up, just resting the tip on Michael’s slick hole for a moment.

Ashton’s hazel eyes bore down into Michael’s green ones with a soft fire as he raised one hand to brush Michael’s fringe out of his flushed face. Michael let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as Ashton pushed in - slowly, but all the way.. He felt like he was sinking and floating simultaneously, and wrapped his arms around Ashton’s neck to anchor himself here, with him, in this moment.

Ashton pressed his face deep into Michael’s neck, kissing and sucking his way up towards Michael’s ear. “You good?” He murmured, shifting his hips a miniscule amount. “Yeah,” Michael breathed, “S’good, please…”.

With a final nip to Michael’s neck, Ashton pulled back slightly and began to move his hips properly, his cock sliding halfway out each time as he began to build a steady rhythm for them. Michael felt that perhaps in their sexual relationship so far, he was earning himself the reputation of a bit of a Pillow Princess, and so he began to move his own hips to meet Ashton’s building thrusts. Ashton groaned, long and loud, at the heightened sensations Michael’s movements brought, and they began to work together towards their goal.

Suddenly, Ashton’s mouth was crowding his, his tongue sliding into his mouth in a glorious kiss that Michael never wanted to end. He couldn’t tell if it had been 10 minutes or 10 hours when he felt that familiar feeling begin to bubble in the lower stomach. Ashton had begun to up the pace of his thrusts, his hips occasionally stuttering as groans rumbled low in his throat, so Michael knew they were on the same page.

“Ash,” He murmured in the millisecond between kisses. “Touch me, please, I’m getting so-” Michael broke off into a moan as Ashton was already wrapping a firm hand around his neglected cock, stroking it with determination and flicking his thumb over Michael’s dripping head. “You close, baby?” He murmured, eyes drifting over Michael’s face and the arousal present there. Michael was starting to writhe slightly and his head was flopping to the side on the pillow, but Ashton wanted his attention. With his free hand, he took Michael’s chin and turned his head to meet Ashton’s stare. The moment Michael was forced to meet his strong, heated gaze, his hazel eyes boring down on him with such intensity, Michael felt the kick of heat and it was all over. He cried out Ashton’s name and let out a series of curses and moans as he came, hard and hot over Ashton’s hand and their sweaty stomachs in equal measure.

Michael hadn’t finished himself before he felt Ashton taken by surprise, as well; his hips shooting forward to fill him to the hilt for the last time as he spilt into the condom, releasing Michael’s chin to brace himself through his orgasm on the pillows. “Michael, fuck!”

Michael regained enough control to watch Ashton’s face through hooded eyes as he came, moaning and unrestrained as he finished. He thought he looked heavenly.

As they both fought to catch their breath, Ashton pulled out gingerly, releasing Michael from his grip as he moved away to remove and dispose of the condom. Michael wriggled in place, trying to get comfortable to recover from what he hoped would be the first of many. Ashton came back from the bin in the corner and flopped back down, alongside Michael now, lifting his arm to allow Michael to snuggle in under it when he wrapped it around him. “So…” He said, sounding casual as you like. “About the whole platonic, friendly, roommate thing…”

masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab • my masterlist

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just-my-fandom · 5 years ago

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Press (Spencer Reid x Wife! Reader)

Request; Reader talks to William Reid about the death of Riley Jenkins twenty years ago. William finds out the reader is his daughter in law and that he has a granddaughter and an upcoming grandchild that no one told him about

I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy reading :)

“Hello Mr. Reid,” You open the door to the small gray room, dropping a file onto the table in the middle of the room and sinking down in one of the two chairs, “I’m agent (Maiden/Last/Name) with the BAU, and I have some questions for you,”

“I feel like this is completely unfair,” William crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat, “Showing I did nothing,”

“I’ll make you a deal, William,” You brush hair from your face, opening the file to show Williams information, “You can ask me any five questions you want, with a full response by me, but, I get to ask you five questions back with truthful answers,”

Williams eyes scan your face when you look up at him, huffing a breath and rolling his shoulders, “Fine,” He sits up, propping it arms on the table in front of him, “You married?”

You lick your lips, eyes drifting to the window feet away, “Yes, I am. Almost a year,”

“Any children?” William watches you glance down at the file and cross your arms over top of each other, eyes moving to stare at the bump on your stomach,

“Yes, a daughter, and an unborn child. Her name is (Daughter/Name). (D/N) Reid,”

“Reid?” Williams back straightens, eyeing you with narrowed lids, “Are you married to my son?”

“Yes sir, I am,” You sigh, “You have two more questions,”

“All this time I had a daughter in law and a grandchild. Why didn’t Spencer tell me?” William frowns, your lips pressing together as you glance at the two way mirror behind you,

“Well you haven’t been in Spencer’s life for almost twenty years. Spencer thought you didn’t care,” You face your father in law, drumming your fingers on your arms, “Would you like to make this last question count?”

“When can I meet my granddaughter?” William leans forward, Spencer ducking his head down and looking through the mirror. Even with the genuine look upon his face, Spencer felt as if William didn’t actually care.

“You’ll have to ask your son that question,” You click your tongue, and flick your eyes between his, “Mr. Reid, why did you leave twenty years ago?”

“It was my choice,” William shrugs once, and you frown, sighing deeply through your nose,

“Was it because of Diana?” You ask softly, noting Williams shoulders locking,

“No. Diana has nothing to do about it. We just didn’t know how to talk to one another,”

You nod, sitting back and running a hand down your six month bumped stomach, “What about Spencer? Could he have been the reason?”

“No. God, no,” William shakes his head briefly, “If anything he’s what almost kept us together,”

“Thank you for your time Mr. Reid,” You stand up, lifting the file and straightening the papers, “Agent Rossi will speak with you momentarily,”

“You still have two more questions,” William raises an eyebrow, and you copy his expression,

“I got what I need,” You step back, turning and exiting the small room to the other side of the mirror, “Rossi,”

“What do you mean you got everything you need?” Rossi steps towards you, eyeing you handing him the file and cupping your hands at your stomach,

“I need to talk to your mom, Spence,” You look at your husband, “If that’s okay with you both,”

“Of course,” Spencer exhales, “She loves your company,”

You smile, allowing Spencer to take your hand and pull you from the large office,

“What is that girl up to?” Rossi looks over to Hotch, whose eyes follow you out of the room swiftly,

“I don’t know. But she might be the answer to the case,”

. . .

The home is quiet. Most elders are in the main room playing chess or chatting among themselves, but Diana Reid sat in her room, staring at the low sounded television,

Spencer knocks gently on the cracked door, pushing it open all the way so Diana looked up, spotting Spencer with you next to him,

“Spencer,” Diana smiles brightly at her son, Spencer’s grip at your fingers tightening as he smiles back, sliding his hand to your lower back,

“Hi mom. Y/N came here to talk to you if that’s okay,”

“Oh of course,” Diana reaches out her hand, allowing you to take it and sit next to her at the end of her bed, “How is my grand baby number two doing?”

You laugh softly, watching her release your hand to place hers at your stomach, humming at a rough kick to your child’s grandmothers hand,

“He’s doing great,” You reply, grin widening when Diana looks up sharply, gasping,

“It’s a boy?” You nod quickly, Diana exhaling an excited laugh as she grabs Spencer’s hand and squeezes, “Oh my goodness, we got another Spencer on the way,”

Spencer smiles warmly at his mother’s excitement, your smile slowly fading as you put your hand over Diana’s, drawing her attention to you, “Diana, can I ask you about a man named Gary Michaels?”

“Gary Michaels?” Diana meets your eyes, looking away in a thinking motion, “Most of my memory is fuzzy,”

“Please, Diana,” You lift her hand to cup it between yours, “It is really important, it’s regarding William,”

“William? Oh God, what did he do now?” Diana shakes her head, and you swiftly glance at Spencer,

“Nothing, as long as we know about Gary. Can you try to think back? What was he like?” You shift, rubbing your stomach at a cramp, “Was he good with kids?”

“Oh, no,” Diana shakes her head, and you lower her hand and blink,

“What did he do, Diana? Who’s clothes were William burning twenty years ago?”

“This is what this is about?” Diana pulls her hand away, eyes narrowing, “I don’t know what’s going on with William but that was over twenty years ago. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast,”

You exhale through your nose, Spencer taking your arm to help you stand,

“I thought you came to just visit your mother in law,” Diana stands up, crossing her arms, “But I’m just being used for a case,”

“No, Diana,” You protest, stopping when she throws a hand up,

“Please leave,” Diana steps back, disappearing into her bathroom. You swallow, looking up at Spencer and putting a hand to your stomach, “Did I make her upset? I-,”

“Hey,” Spencer cups the side of your head, directing your eyes to his, “You didn’t upset her, I promise,”

You frown, Spencer murmuring quick words against your lips before leading you to the door, shouting a quick goodbye to his mother before shutting the door gently

. . .

“You alright? You seem tense,”

You look away from where you bit at your thumb nail, eyes staring at Derek next to you of the two way mirror,

“Yeah,” You sigh, drifting your eyes to William on the other side of the mirror, “But Diana knows something about Gary Michaels. I mentioned him and William to her and she told us to leave,”

“This kind of stress isn’t good for baby Spence,” Derek turns, hand at the side of your stomach,

“This job isn’t good for baby Spence,” You choke out a laugh, shaking your head, “William wants to meet (D/N),”

“And what does Spencer have to say about it?” Derek raises an eyebrow, eyes flicking between yours,

“He wants William to have nothing to do with the kids,” You look down at your painfully large stomach, “But hes their grandpa. They deserve to at least know who he is as a human being,”

“So you’re going to go against Spencer’s wishes?” Derek leans back, watching you lift a hand to continue biting,

“Is it bad I already sent Emily back for (D/N) on the jet?” You smile nervously, Derek frowning,

“You need to at least let Spencer know, let him be in the room with you,”

“Let me know what?”

You turn around at your husbands voice, eyes landing on Spencer at the door of the office.

“Spence,” You move forward, sliding your arms at his torso so his own hands could place themselves at your stomach, “Emily’s on her way back from home with (D/N),”

“Why is she bringing her up here?” Spencer looks at Derek, then down at you,

You bite your lip, “I’m allowing William to meet her,” You exhale, watching Spencer’s face fall at your words,

“I thought we agreed he wouldn’t have anything to do with her or the baby,” Spencer murmurs, your frown visible as you curl your fingers into his business suit,

“I know, but,” You shrug, “It will only be a brief visit. My parents weren’t here to meet (D/N), William And Diana are the only grandparents the kids will have,”

“Bad timing?” You look around Spencer to see Emily at the doorway, your four month old daughter in her arm,

“No, no,” You pull away from Spencer, peeling the girl from Emily and kissing her cheek, “Hi sweetheart,”

“At least put them in a bigger area,” Spencer pleas, kissing the top of (D/N)s head and glancing at his father through the two way mirror, “I don’t want them in such a small room,”

“Of course, we have a bigger office,” The sheriff of the town you stayed in mods, crossing his arms, “You all go ahead, I’ll get William,”

. . .

“Spence, calm down,” You slide your hand to Spencer’s arm, squeezing to stop the drum of his fingers against the table,

“Sorry,” Spencer sighs, smiling at the girl in his lap chewing on her pacifier, “I just don’t know about this,”

“He’ll be handcuffed,” You whisper, “What’s the worse he could do?”

“You’re right,” Spencer grasps your hand, squeezing and looking up when the door creaks open,

Your eyes find Diana, her arm linked with Williams,

“Mom,” Spencer stands up, eyes flicking between his parents, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to tell the truth, of course,” Diana grunts, leading William to the other side of the table from you,

William inhales, eyes landing on (D/N) yawning from Spencer’s lap, “Is this her? My granddaughter?”

“Um, yeah,” Spencer looks down at the toddler, who blinks her brown eyes at the two people in front of her, quickly looking over at you to make sure you were still there, “Dad, this is (D/N),”

At the mention of her name, (D/N) faces forward, William smiling and lifting a hand to wave at her,

“God, she looks just like you Spencer,” William exhales, Spencer cracking a smile and watching his daughter pat the table, squealing,

“Five minutes William,” The sheriff grunts from the door, William glancing at him and frowning,

“What’s this one going to be?” He points at your bump, where Spencer’s hand subconsciously rested at the lower area,

“A boy,” You breathe, smiling at Spencer, “We have a mini Spencer coming soon,”

“He’ll probably look like you,” William grunts, “But have his fathers brain I’m sure,”

“Oh, no, that’s definitely (D/N),” You laugh softly, “Four months old and already crawling,”

William chuckles, frowning when the Sheriff begins you crossed his arms and jerks his head to the side,

“You’ll bring him to visit me, won’t you?” William asks hopefully, looking over when a guard jerks him up from his chair,

“We’ll try,” Spencer watches his father leave the room, turning (D/N) to press against his chest when her head lulls to the side in exhaustion, hand resting at her back to soothe her,

“Diana,” You sit forward, “Can you tell me everything you know about Gary Michaels?”

. . .

“We don’t have to,”

You lean against the doorway of your toddlers nursery, Spencer looking up from where he leaned over the crib to place your daughter down,

“Do what?” He whispers, placing the small blanket over her body and moving towards you,

“Introduce him to William,” You put a hand on your stomach, looking up at your husband, “We can wait a couple months- Years,”

Spencer scans your eyes, hands cupping your stomach, “I want him to meet the baby soon. He seemed genuinely excited about seeing the kids,”

“He was,” You smile, sliding your hands to Spencer’s face as his wrap at your lower back, “He loves them,”

“I just wish he was there for me in the beginning. Our marriage, your pregnancy with (D/N),” Spencer sighs, closing his eyes when he leans down to meet your forehead,

“I know Spence,” You murmur against his lips, leaning against the doorframe behind you, “Come on, let’s try not to wake her up,”

“What do you have in mind, Mrs. Reid?” Spencer takes your hand, allowing you to lead him to your bedroom a couple doors down,

You grin at your husband, humming when he closes your bedroom door, your back pressing up against it

#spencer reid #spencer reid wife #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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talkfastromance4 · 5 years ago

Text

For Your Eyes Only– bodyguard!ashton [Chapter Ten]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 1,307 (it’s smaller than the others but the last 2 chapters will be longer I promise!)

Warnings: mentions of injury, slight trauma

Author’s note: there are links to click on so you can see what they are, they are bolded

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2 || Chap. 3 || Chap. 4 || Chap. 5 || Chap. 6 || Chap. 7 || Chap. 8 || Chap. 9

The winter ball is always a grand spectacle in Chadria. It’s when Alouette opens her palace to her people so they can join her in celebrating the wintry season and Christmas. The palace is decked out with garlands of blue and silver, frosted wreaths and a splash of red blows scattered around.

Christmas is Alouette’s favorite holiday so she makes sure there is plenty of food and perfectly wrapped presents for the children that come.

Ashton made sure Calum has ordered the highest quality of walkthrough metal detectors that were equipped with x-ray. Ashton is on edge of having the palace opened to the public but Alouette is skirting around her home in such a cheerful manner, he doesn’t want to diminish her joy.

So, he’ll stay on edge for both of them.

“Everything’s going to be fine, man,” Michael assures him as they finish putting the last present under the tree.

The DJ is still setting up behind the white table that looked like snow and icicles. He will be playing all of the Christmas classics and a bunch of Alouette’s favorites.

“Our security is extra tight, the cameras are all working perfectly and Alou seems a lot more like herself,” Michael continues.

“I can’t help but be anxious, Mike,” Ashton sighs. He scans the room and it looks like a beautiful winter wonderland that he knows Alouette will love.

“I know, just . . . I don’t know, try to have fun tonight,” Michael says. “You need to go get ready, I’ll finish up here.”

“What do you mean get ready?”

“Go to your office and get ready,” Michael laughs pushing Ashton away, “trust me.”

•••••

Ashton waited patiently for Alouette to come inside the ballroom next to where all of her guests were. He’s wearing the new suit he found in his office, laid perfectly on his desk chair with a note from Alouette.

My gift for you, Your Alouette

Ashton’s staring out at the snow falling lazily from the window when the door opens, he spins around just as Alouette slips in and he takes in her appearance as she runs into his arms. He lifts her off the ground, the skirt of her silver dress billows in the air. Her soft giggle is music in his ears.

Ashton sets her down then captures her lips in a kiss, then gives her two more.

“You look exquisite,” he tells her, forehead on hers. He breathes her in.

“You look exceptionally handsome,” she smiles slipping her fingers under his lapels.

“I have you to thank for that,” he chuckles and tightens his hold on her waist. He touches her swan pendant gently.

“It’s all you, honey,” she sighs taking his hand in hers, “I just knew the green would bring out your eyes.”

They hold each other closely as he dances in a small circle while Nat King Cole’s voice echoes distantly through the walls sings The Christmas Song. The soft piano and magical sounds of the violins were Alouette’s favorite part of the song.

While they sway in comfortable silence, Ashton can’t stop picturing dancing with her in a different setting, where she’s in a white dress and a ring on both their fingers. Ashton releases her waist then spins her away from him, loving the way her dress flies up, then pulls her close once more.

Her smile and quiet laughter fill the room and Ashton’s never been happier.

When the song is over, Alouette exits the room first to return to the party. Ashton counts to twenty then follows after her. They blend back into the party without a hitch and Ashton keeps his eye on her as she moves about the room.

Then, a loud bang and crash bursts through the happy holiday fair, Alouette screams and Ashton is by her side immediately. Before she crumples to the ground with her head in her hands, Ashton slides next to her catching her in his arms. He holds her tightly to his chest as she whimpers in fear.

The music stops and it’s silent as her guests gather around their dear Princess, fear and worry expressed on their faces.

“An ice sculpture fell,” Michael says from Ashton’s left.

Ashton nods then helps Alouette stand to her feet, tears shining as they roll down her cheeks. “It’s all right, you’re all right. It was an ice sculpture,” he soothes wiping her tears. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

With quick glances to her guests, Ashton leads her from the ballroom to go upstairs to her bedroom. Once inside, as soon as the door clicks shut, Alouette breaks down against Ashton. He slides down on the floor cradling her in his arms.

Her cries come out in choked sobs, her fingers clutching tightly to his jacket and Ashton just holds her. He kisses her hair, rubs her arms and whispers loving words about how she’s safe and nothing is going to harm her.

“It b-brought me b-back to the . . . to that room,” she gasps. “They said horrible things to me to scare me . . . things they wanted to do . . . they joked about it. And-and they cut my dress whenever we moved. . . When I wouldn’t talk they burned me with th-their cigarettes. It wasn’t until I was tied up that they hit me and cut me . . . they laughed . . . .”

Ashton listens intently at the horrors she was relaying to him. He’s only asked once what happened and she pushed him away, now she’s opening up and he wants her to bear it all. If it will help her heal, he’ll listen for as long as she talks.

“They’d kiss my cheek but that was it. I didn’t get why,” she sniffs, “one of them liked hurting me the most. He cut my back and pressed the knife to my throat a lot. . . I thought I was going to die.”

She lifts her head up staring at Ashton. His eyes are wide while he listens to her. Alouette strokes his cheek, eyes memorizing his face even though she already knows every blemish, every faint freckle.

“Then you came and saved me,” she whispers, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I knew you’d come and I stayed alive for you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ashton sighs holding her face as well. They’re a tangle of arms and hands on the floor, their love seeping out in every breath and blink of a lash. “I’d die before I ever gave up on you.”

“I love you so much, Ashton,” she says, voice full of emotion.

“I love you, Alouette.”

And they’re kissing. Lips tasting like salt from her tears but their lips move in whispers finishing unspoken sentences that they already know. Ashton and Alouette have a bond formed that’s stronger than anything now.

•••••

Alouette knocks on the door to the monitor room, a place she’s visited on and off over the last few months when she’s searching for Ashton or looking for Michael. She left Ashton in her bed, slipping quietly from his loving embrace and pulled on her nightgown.

She knocks gently on the door then opens it, she peers into the blue-black of the room and spots Michael sitting in the center of all the screens.

“Oh, hey,” Michael greets setting down his mug of coffee. “Are you alright? Where’s Ashton?”

“In bed,” Alouette closes the door then moves next to Michael. She glances at the screens quickly then looks in his eyes behind the thick rimmed glasses he’s wearing. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can I ask you a favor as my friend and not as the Princess?”

Michael stares at her. Her eyes are a little fearful as she waits for his response.

“Y-yeah, yeah, of course,” he clears his throat nodding quickly.

“I want to speak with the man you have captive.”

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17

#ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin au #ashton au #ashton writing #ashton 5sos #fyeo #bodygaurd!ashton #bodyguard!ash #ashton fluff #ashton angst #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin angst

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krolock-in-the-snowlock · 4 years ago

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I watched Broadway’s Dance of the Vampires so you don’t have to

Ever wondered how bad the broadway version actually is? Now’s your chance to find out, my friend...

So about a month ago, I came across a bootleg of the broadway show and, because it was late and I am a Certified Idiot, I decided to watch it and write down my thoughts. Having heard how bad it was, I knew to expect a train wreck, but I had no idea just how much of a train wreck it was going to be until I pressed play and witnessed something that truly cannot be described in words.

I was originally just going to post my whole list of thoughts but it ended up being over 5000 words (many of which were me screaming NO and wHYYY) so I’ve put it in a separate post, so click that link if you want to read it in its entirety!

Instead, I’ve decided to do a (slightly) shorter summary of ‘highlights’, if they can really be called that, with a kind of silly score for each ‘category’. A review, if you will. I’m sure I’ll have missed some things, but this should hopefully at least give you an idea of what exactly they did to poor Tanz der Vampire. Still, I apologise for the length of this in advance - I just had a lot of thoughts, okay?

A quick disclaimer: While I have seen clips of producations of Tanz from various countries, I’ve only seen the whole production once - the Berlin bootleg from somewhere around 2009-11 - so I’ll mostly be comparing with that!

I know the broadway musical is a big taboo subject, so I’m not expecting many, if any, to actually read any of this. But if you ever wondered how bad it was and didn’t want to have to actually watch it, this post is for you!

So, without further ado…

The Characters: -7/10

Let me begin by saying that many of the characters bear almost no resemblance to the originals. The worst case, of course, is with Giovanni von Krolock. A cringeworthy caricature, his awful faux-Italian accent, terrible jokes and horrifying bat form make him the polar opposite of what Krolock is supposed to be. In my notes, I actually referred to him as Giovanni rather than Krolock, because this is not Krolock; where Krolock is mysterious, aloof, powerful, and occasionally slightly sarcastic, Giovanni is silly, makes puns in nearly every line, and commands no respect or fear whatsoever. I resent that I began to ironically enjoy mocking him by the time I’d finished watching it.

Alfred is absurdly confident and confrontational, and narrates everything he writes in his journal (and tbh is probably a closeted bi). Sarah now apparently has friends and is allowed to leave her room. Koukol doesn’t exist, and is replaced by a man that Krolock hypnotises, who sometimes acts like a dog. Herbert is French, ridiculously stereotypical, and there is a very poor attempt from Krolock at pronouncing his name in a French accent. The other characters are fortunately mostly the same as the originals, although not entirely.

The Music: 2.5/10

Oh, the music… how do I begin?

Long story short, it was generally horrible. Multiple songs were cut entirely, and others were mashed together into strange frankensongs. The opening song, for instance, is completely different (and was what immediately made me realise I’d made a terrible mistake in deciding to watch it). The lyrics were mostly not as interesting as the original German lyrics, and often had less syllables, so the songs often felt empty and drawn out.

Many of the songs had slightly different overall meanings/purposes to their German counterparts, and I though that songs like Total Eclipse and Invitation to the Ball were way too sappy and romantic, lacking any of the drama and tension of Totale Finsternis and Einladung zum Ball. Krolock had been so ridiculous the whole time that Die Unstillbare Gier sadly could never have worked, even if the lyrics had been better. The singing itself was actually pretty good from what I remember, which was the only thing that saved the music, but Krolock’s horrible accent ruined many of the songs he was in. There was so much potential for it to be good if they’d just done a faithful adaption…...

I could go on forever about the music (as I do in my full commentary) but that would probably need a whole new post! So instead let’s move on to…

The Costumes: 2/10

Boring. Sarah’s red ball gown is nice enough, but all of the other vampires’ costumes are painfully simple and poorly designed. Krolock lacks a cape for most of the musical (which is a crime), Herbert is dressed in a hideous bright blue coat and an aggressively yellow wig, and the finale costumes are just simple black leather coats. It all lacks any of the detail or, in Herbert’s case, sparkle, of any of the other versions of the costumes that I’ve seen. While I should probably note that this was in 2002, it is still noticeably simpler than other productions of Tanz around the same time. Krolock also lacks his usual makeup, and Herbert’s is just ugly. And Krolock’s top hat in the opening? Why???

The Staging: -5/10

When they aren’t dancing, most of the ‘staging’ is just the characters at opposite sides of the stage facing each other. It doesn’t matter what is supposed to be happening in the scene, or the message of the song; they just... stand there. Occasionally, if you’re lucky, the characters might stand next to each other, but such close proximity is a rare occurrence in Dance of the Vampires, saved mostly for Alfred or Krolock with Sarah or Herbert and, in a strange duet about books, Krolock and Professor Ambronsius.

Krolock does pretty much nothing in Die Unstillbare Gier, and the staging for Einladung zum Ball was very confusing, at least when they weren’t just standing still. Sarah’s bedroom inexplicably becomes a cloudy place with no floor, and it was never quite clear whether the scene was a dream or not. Considering the rest of the musical, either possibility is honestly equally likely. At one point at the start of the first act, Krolock literally rises out of the ground in a huge coffin. I could go on. Also the sponge Krolock gives Sarah is a fraction of the size of the one he gives her in the original, which I like to think is a metaphor for the broadway production itself.

The Sets: 3/10

While not accurate to any other versions at the time or since, a couple of the sets were admittedly quite pretty (though still not quite on Kentaur’s level). However, there was no inn structure for the first act, and some of the sets were quite limited. One of the most popular (and nicest) sets in the second act is a huge stairway covered in a frankly impractical number of candles.

In the finale, despite the characters on multiple occasions declaring that the story takes place in Transylvania in “18something”, the background is for some reason Times Square with all of its neon signs (which I’m pretty sure did most certainly not exist in the 1800s). Whether a huge location change and time skip of a couple hundred years has taken place or whether the directors and set designers finally gave up trying to make the story make sense, I have no idea.

Worst Moments:

I just had to include this section! These are only a few of the worst and/or most bizarre moments I could pick out. I’m sure there’s more that I forgot but here are some (read: quite a few) of my favourites:

Krolock, wearing a top hat, rising from the ground in a giant coffin before saying, “God has left the building”

Krolock appearing as a hideous animated bat thing

Sarah and her friends getting high on mushrooms in the opening

The fact that Sarah’s birthday is on Halloween at midnight during the total eclipse of the moon

Krolock offering Alfred a sponge shaped like a penis then slowly tilting it down when Alfred says no

Ambronsius decorating Sarah’s room in Halloween decorations to scare off Krolock

Krolock genuinely being convinced that Sarah is a literal princess until he visits her room

Krolock and Ambronsius harmonising about books together

The big grey winged gargoyle demons dancing on the bed during Carpe Noctem

Krolock repeatedly dressing in a big grey dress and pretending to be his own mother/wife/who even knows what

Alfred angrily threatening Krolock, followed by Krolock physically attacking Alfred (this happens on more than one occasion)

The nonsense ‘prophecy’ they randomly introduce

“I use my body as a bandage, I use my body as a wound” (and this is instead of “Ich will frei und freier werden, und werde meine Ketten nicht los”) WHAT DOES IT MEAN

Koukol-replacement saying, “Okay, here he is, the man you’ve all been waiting for, his excellency… the Count von Krolock!) and Krolock waving and pointing like a rockstar as he kisses people walking down the stairs to the ball

Krolock dramatically dying on the stairs at the end of the ball for a solid minute

The Good Parts

Surprisingly, there were a few redeeming features!

Firstly, the couple of songs where they kept things very similar to the source material (such as Knoblauch) were actually quite good at times. Unfortunately, this isn’t to say that they were necessarily good, but compared to the less faithful parts they were a nice surprise, even if Knoblauch was never my favourite song from Tanz.

The singing itself was generally pretty good too! I also hate to admit that I did at times find myself laughing a little at the awful jokes.

And... uhh...

...yeah, that’s about it...

Some Highlights From My Notes:

And finally, here are some out of context quotes from my notes that I feel sum up the musical quite well:

It sounds like he’s about to start a really sad rave

I was gonna roast the lyrics some more but I’m gonna be honest I’m not sure what he’s saying

This feels on the same level of what kind of acid trip hallucination parallel universe have I landed in as seeing the Cats film in the cinema

Is this actually Deadpool in disguise with all the fourth wall breaking

Crawford looks like he regrets everything and can I just say Michael so does everybody else

He looks like a potato or a rock or that neutral nicolas cage face that people put on the sequin cushion

This sounds like a poorly written Krolock/reader wattpad fanfic

Giovanni would highkey be like lol arent i so random rawr xd on myspace

He might as well have said, “Itsa me, Mario”

They’re just stood there like two pigeons aimlessly squawking at each other

Alfred is like a chihuahua with small dog syndrome barking at a bigger dog, except Giovanni is barely bigger and is a flea-infested Chinese Crested dressed in a cheap Halloween costume

The throne glides like a magic carpet only it doesn’t leave the ground so I suppose it’s actually more like a chair with wheels, which is much less exciting

He just stands there like a poorly-dressed rock

-22/10 would not listen again

Final Comments:

So, if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading and I hope that was somewhat informative and/or entertaining for you! It took me weeks to get through the whole musical because I couldn’t stand watching it for too long at a time, and maybe you can see why! Like I said at the start of this monster of a post, there’s probably a lot that I’ve forgotten to mention, so if you’re unfortunate enough to have seen any of this car crash of a musical, feel free to add your thoughts! :D

#tanz der vampire #dance of the vampires #watching the broadway production was a good 4 hours of my life that I’ll never get back #was it worth it?#honestly I’m not sure #but here we are

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wowweeharrystyles · 5 years ago

Text

can’t help falling in love

Oh man okay. Wedding!harry had me feeling some type of way & @rainbownialls helped with the idea & told me ‘cancel your plans we need this’ & I’m grateful she told me that. so here we are.

(this is the 1st time I’ve ever written a one off drabble like this with the full intention of posting it. so here we goooooo)

SOOOO here’s wedding date harry.

I recommend listening to some great love songs, specifically “Can’t Help Falling In Love” but the Kina Grannis version.

Harry x Y/N | 2.6K words.

Seeing him walk out of the bathroom in a suit that looked all too familiar triggered a bit of a nostalgic feeling in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t realized that he picked that suit when you were discussing just rewearing one of his hundreds of custom suits that linger in that huge, white walled closet back at his, well now your, home in London. The charcoal grey, double breasted suit lays open against his black button down, which was barely buttoned might you add. The last time you saw him in this suit was around when you two had just started dating and he was making his was out of a London hotel room, quite similar to the one you were in now, heading to the Dunkirk premier with Anne.

A chuckle leaves Harry’s mouth when he sees your face, bringing you back to reality. You had most definitely been looking at him like he hung the moon - even the stars, every single thing in the universe - just for you.

“Like the suit choice, love?” He asks, his cheeky, narcissistic side peaking through.

“Harry,” is all you manage to get out. Shaking your head, you gather your composure and stand up, walking to meet him a few feet in front of you. The emerald green silk dress that Harry Lambert had helped you pick out, followed behind you, a touch too long without your heels on. You reach up to place a quick peck to his cheek. One of your hands rests lightly on the opposite cheek, the feeling of his stubble tickling your palm a bit. Then it clicks. He’s still the same Harry but the Harry that wore this suit 2 years ago had just released his debut solo album, a movie hitting the box office in a few days and a world tour that he was eager to start. It was all new to you then, your relationship, Harry’s world. All of it.

The scruff on his face ages him. As does his longer, less styled hair. He’s not so fresh faced anymore and you don’t mind. His lips on yours brings you out of your nostalgic thoughts.

“Love the suit just as much as I did when you wore it the 1st time,” you comment finally, placing a haste kiss to his lips. “Quite timeless.”

“Thought you would.” The grin on his face pulls out his dimples. You shake your head at him, pulling out of his arms to get your shoes.

Harry escorts you and Anne to your seats in the church before the wedding starts and he has to walk with Gemma down the aisle and stand with the wedding party. Pachelbel’s Canon in D has started playing and you immediately feel a hitch in your throat. You were always a sucker for weddings. As the bride makes her way down the aisle you can’t help but steal a look at Harry. Turning subtly, you catch Harry’s eye. Tears are already starting to collect in his eyes and you can’t help when they collect in yours too. He mouths an “I love you” and you mirror the gesture after a silent hiccup. A tear rolls down your face and you will yourself to hold back from sobbing right there and then. Blinking softly, you let a few more tears falls before you break eye contact and look back at the beautiful bride walking down the aisle.

When you take your seat, you reach for your purse for a kleenex. You know yourself all too well to attend a wedding without something for the inevitable tears. But much to your surprise, the plastic travel pack of kleenex isn’t there. Instead, there’s a cream coloured handkerchief in its place. When you pull it out, you notice the small lettering that’s embroidered into a corner. H E S. The smile that has already covered your face somehow gets bigger. Looking up at Harry, only a yard or 2 in front of you, he winks at you, a soft smile on his face. Another tear rolls down yours and catches in your smile. Anne notices the cloth in your hand and reaches out to rest a kind hand on your forearm.

“Robin gave that to Harry. He always said a real man has a handkerchief, if not for himself, for his girl,” Anne whispers to you. She opens her fisted hand to reveal a similar cloth but with Robins initials. Your heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

You cry during the personalized vows and take the entire ceremony to gaze up at Harry. You’re used to seeing him presented before you and really do love getting an excuse to just watch him, but it’s different. Standing on a stage in an arena full of thousands of people is much different than standing with his family, a boutonniere pinned to his lapel and a church alter as his background. You can barely let your mind wander enough to think about a wedding with Harry waiting up at the alter for you before he’s giving you a wink as he walks with Gemma out of the church. Before you and Anne even get a chance to start walking out with the rest of the guest, Harry is back to escort both of you out.

You’re standing slightly behind him, your left hand is intertwined with his right. With your right hand wrapped around his bicep you let your shoulder lean into the relaxed muscles in his arm and back. Harry has always towered over you but it’s blatantly obvious how tall he is compared to you while you’re standing like this. Your chin barely reaches the top of his shoulder. The heels on your feet definitely help the height difference a little bit and right now you do have a clear line of vision above his shoulder. In sneakers, it’s a completely different story.

Harry’s happily chatting with some family while you listen along. You really love seeing him interact with his family and are perfectly happy as his plus one to this family wedding. The conversation ends when his aunt excuses herself to check on her kids. Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“All good?” He asks, now looking down at you.

“Mhm…,” you hum, pressing another kiss to his arm.

“Hey,” he says quietly and you look up to him through your lashes. “Love, sure you’re good?” he asks again. Rising up a little on your toes you press kiss to his lips this time. You can feel him smile into the kiss. “Good,” he says matter-of-factly when he pulls away..

“Very good,” you confirm, squeezing his hand and leaning into him more. There’s this warmth in you that makes you all lovey and snuggly. Being here, with him, you can’t help but fall a bit more in love. The romantic ease of the evening only encouraging you more.

“I love you,” he says before pressing a kiss to the top of you head.

“Love you more,” you say back with a light shove.

“Love you-” he’s cut off by Gemma approaching the two of you, Michael tailing behind her.

“Hey there, you two,” Gemma greets you with a smile. She’s got a grin on her face that you recognize well as it’s the same grin that you’ve seen plastered on Harry’s face countless of times. “I’m just so glad you’re both here. Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Gemma comments directly to you.

“It’s been too long,” you say, reaching your right hand out to hers to give it a squeeze to somehow relay your joy and happiness right now. Honestly, you don’t think anything you say or do could really show how much you love today.

“You need to come visit Michael and I more often,” she squeezes your hand back. “You can leave him behind for all I care,” she jokes, motioning to Harry.

Harry’s face scrunches up, “Heyyyy,” he whines at his older sister.

“Oh Harry, I’m only joking,” she reaches a hand up to caress his cheek before giving it a pinch. Harry groans at the gesture. “Join me on a trip to the bar?” Gemma asks turning to you now.

“Absolutely” you say with a smile and link your arm with hers as you release your grip on Harry.

“Hey, kiss,” Harry says, not letting go of your hand. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips before releasing his grip. “I’ll come find you in a bit,” he finishes as Gemma pulls you away towards the bar.

Giggles fill the air between you and Gemma as you take your now full glasses of wine to the dance floor with you. Across the room, Harry got caught up in a very important conversation about what dinosaur is the best kind of dinosaur with one of his little cousins. It’s not until he hears you singing at the top of your lungs to the chorus of “Don’t Stop Believing” that he looks up to find you on the dance floor. The emerald green silk effortlessly follows your dancing, the wrap style of the dress showcasing your legs once and a while as you twirl. Harry excuses himself to make his way closer to the dance floor. He doesn’t join you just yet but takes in the sight in front of him. Harry thinks his heart could burst now.

When you catch a glimpse of him lingering on the edge of the dance floor the smile on your face becomes so big that your eyes are almost closed. Your gesture for him to join you for the ending of the song is met with an outrageous shimmy that somehow releases his suit jacket from his shoulders, which he tosses on a nearby chair. You roll your eyes without even thinking. Harry’s dancing his way over to you, using his moves to maneuver through the crowded dance floor. Instantly, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close into his side, a fist pumping in the air. You gaze up to him and you don’t think you could be more in love. The feeling is almost too overwhelming and you have to pull your gaze away from the actual rays of sunshine that is radiating from his face, his whole body. He places a light kiss to the top of your cheek before he releases his grip on you and shifts over to Gemma and dances around with her. The sight is something you don’t even think you could properly describe. Suddenly they’re dancing in unison, clearly a mini dance they must have come up with when they were little. You can picture it now, little Harry and Gemma dancing around the living room while Anne blasts a classic, Fleetwood Mac or Shania Twain, a song you know Harry has played a countless amount of times just to get a bit of inspiration or feel like he’s home. The thought makes you giggle just as much as the actual show in front of you. As “Don’t Stop Believing” wraps up, Harry tosses an arm around Gemma’s shoulder pressing a kiss to her hair, just barely, before she’s pushing him away, jokingly disgusted. There’s only a moment of silence between songs. When the 1st few strums of a guitar come over the speakers Harry is instantly coming to stand in front of you.

The song is familiar but you can’t put your finger on it just yet. The atmosphere in the reception hall instantly shifts as the new song playing is a much slower tempo. You see the newly weds join in each other’s arms and they share a sweet kiss before swaying along to the music. The feeling of Harry wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him brings your attention back. Harry has a soft smile on his face and you can’t help but mirror it.

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough how beautiful you look tonight,” Harry whispers, dipping his head down lower so his lips are only centimeters away from yours. His lips hover over yours, your smile not falling one bit. Reaching up to his neck with the hand that isn’t entangled with his and resting on his chest, you weave it through the hair at the back of his head. Your foreheads only touch for a moment before you’re kissing. His mouth is warm and tastes of whisky. He kisses you like you’ve got all the time in the world. It’s when you break apart for a moment that you recognize the song.

Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.

Cradling his face in your hand, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You move your hand back to its home in his hair at the bottom of his neck and pull him closer to you. You don’t think you could be pressed up against each other any closer. You can feel his chest rise and fall against yours. The low buttoning of his shirt causes his chest hair to tickle against your sternum slightly but you don’t mind. You can feel Harry’s lips near your ear and his hot, steady breath makes the bits of loose hair near there move back and forth, grazing the shell of your ear. His voice is low when he starts singing along, only loud enough for you to hear. Though it’s not the original Elvis version of the song, Harry still doesn’t miss a beat. Closing your eyes, you let your weight fall against Harry’s and follow his minimal foot movements that move you both around in a circle from time to time. You continuously press lazy kisses to the column of his neck and sometimes to his collarbone if a particular note vibrates against you just the right way.

Darling so it goes,

somethings are meant to be

You pull your face away from the tucked away home at his neck and meet his eyes. The guitar cuts out then, before the vocals start again, only their acapella this time.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you,” he says, his eyes sparkling, candle light flickering in his green irises. Harry closes the short distance between the 2 of you and lands his lips on yours.

So take my hand,

take my whole life too,

His lips are still warm, kisses slow and well thought out. His hand around your waist somehow pulls you in even closer and your body responds just as he likes. Bending back at the waist a lightly, he dips you slightly, deepening the kiss. You peel your one hand away from his grasp so you can use both hands to cradle is face, thumbs resting on his cheekbones. You can’t help melting into his every move. You can’t help falling in love - over and over again.

The rest of the night is spent never too far from each other, both too much in love to even think about physically separating. Fleeting thoughts pop up every so often as the night closes out. How could you feel even more in love with the man at your side than you do in this exact moment? It’s intriguing, but also scary, to think that this isn’t even yours and Harry’s wedding. If you feel like this now, how will, how could you feel on that special day?

Marriage has barely come up between the two of you, but the possibility of getting engaged and getting married and starting your family together isn’t scary. Nothing could be scary with Harry at your side.

Little do you know, Harry has had the same thoughts running through his head all evening evening. Every single glance, smile, kiss, and laugh, only makes everything feel that much more possible and exciting.

He’s also thinking about the tiny black box that has been burning a hole in his hiding spot back home.

OKAY! Thanks for reading this, seriously i really do appreciate it. I’d love feedback, comments, whatever. okay. love you mean it byeeeeee.

#Harry styles writing #harry drabble #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #Wedding!harry #Harry Styles

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be-dazzled · 5 years ago

Photo

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser FFnet link: click here Tumblr link: explore here Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for Sensitive Content and Language

Summary: Gray Fullbuster is a player both in love and in life. He plays Professional Basketball and is being groomed to be in line with Basketball Legends Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Kobe Bryant and Stephen Curry. There’s just one problem, Gray Fullbuster is a play-ah. His life is a giant mess of crazy parties, waking up with random women and waking up in random women’s apartments. Just living the life.

The opinion of the public on him is waning. To save the million-dollar endorsements in the verge of disappearing, Gray needs to change his image. Therefore, Gray Fullbuster, Fiore Knight’s Team Captain and Most Valuable Player, will be in the next season of “My Star Can Dance”.

There’s another problem: it seems like his star isn’t that bright since his partner, one of Fiore’s prominent ballerinas, doesn’t know him? His billboard is hanging in front of her dancing school! And it was a good billboard since all he was wearing was his six-pack and an Aztec bandana. How come she didn’t notice?

...

You the one that I dream about all day You the one that I think about always You are the one so I make sure I behave My love is your love, your love is my love

– You Da One, Rihanna

…

It’s been a week or so since the weekend they spent at Juvia’s hometown. She had her mother to thank for the awkward morning following the paper bag incident and what was or were inside it. Juvia just couldn’t face Gray after that because all she could think about was the paper bag full of protection sitting atop her counter. Juvia had her mother to blame for turning her into some kind of a deprived woman who hadn’t had sex in ten years.

Everything just reminded her that she was indeed a woman who hand’s had sex in… she forgot how long. Like when Hoopster was in a one-on-one basketball game with Juvia’s father. Gray’s dark gray shirt clung to his toned abdomen and Juvia could only keep herself from sinfully tracing what they called the ‘happy trail’. When Gray took off his already wet shirt, Juvia swore her mouth ran dry. If she was a man, her blood rushed to that one place.

All she could think about was feeling Gray’s skin against her fingertips.

So, Juvia decided it would be better for her, her heart and her hormones not see Gray for the meantime; just until she got over him and his undeniably delicious body. It was impossible: one, not to see him because of the dance show, and two, it’s hard to get over that godly body of his.

Juvia, stop. Your mother catching you ogling the Hoopster was enough – embarrassing enough.

A polite knock pulled Juvia’s attention toward the twin wooden doors that spitted out the man of her thoughts recently. He had his casual clothes on – plain white tee and faded denim jeans. Nothing said casual more than his raven hair swept under his Fiore Knights bull cap. When their eyes met, the corner of Gray’s mouth tipped. He looked ready to run towards her and pull her in the tightest embrace. Juvia was sure all she wanted was to fall into his arms. However, someone else demanded her attention.

“Finally, Mr. Gray is here.”

Juvia twitched at the moniker. How many times did she ask her friend never to call Hoopster by the name of one of the sexiest main leads in erotic literature? Because she could easily see Christian Grey in Gray Fullbuster. That goes without saying, her inner goddess was clapping back at her – Ms. Juvia Steel.

A single snap of Levy’s small and slender fingers pulled her away from her ‘Fifty Shades of Gray Fullbuster’ sexy dreams.

“You should really stop drooling over Gray so much if you want to keep your dignity intact, Juvia.” Levy scolded.

“I’m not drooling over anyone.” Juvia denied, trying to sound non-defensive by masking her blushing with disinterest.

Gray approached the two, shaking Levy’s hand while pulling Juvia closer against him. He leaned in to plant a soft peck on Juvia’s left cheek and the ballerina almost jumped in surprise. For a second, she thought Gray would kiss her on the lips, right in front of Shrimp. She almost had a heart-attack.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Juvia sheepishly replied.

Gray hadn’t released her yet. Rather, he kept her hand clasped in his and maintained their position. He had his back on Levy so he took the chance to say something he wanted to tell Juvia since they came back from her hometown.

“I really miss you.”

Juvia smiled, her gaze saying the same, that she really missed him too. Now that they were a couple, they managed to have conversation through their love-stricken eyes.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

“Yes/No.”

The couple answered in unison, albeit differently.

Which made the assistant show-writer even more suspicious.

It wasn’t like Juvia was trying to hide their relationship or anything. She told Gray it was better to keep it from the public so that they could enjoy their relationship in private. It was hard not to be able to hug or kiss each other at a whim but because of the show, Gray and Juvia was catapulted to fame. Since then, Gray and Juvia became public figures. Gray was used to the attention. He already had a large number of following – basketball fanatic or otherwise. But Juvia wasn’t. She wasn’t used to the limelight.

However, Juvia knew this little secret wouldn’t last that long. It was going to come out one way or the other. So, she decided she was going to tell Shrimp about everything. She was her best friend, after all. Levy knew all about the Gray-spell Juvia was under in High School. She’d sit her best friend later. For now, she’d like to keep Shrimp wandering.

“Really? ‘Cause you guys appear to be so–”

“–So, what’s the next challenge?”

Juvia quickly changed the subject when Levy was about to attempt to ask further. She knew how crazy it drove her best-friend and she’d like to keep it that way for a little while.

“Oh, that’s right!”

Excitement was written all over the assistant show-writer’s face.

“This week you are going to dance the tango.”

“Tango?”

“Yes! And guess who suggested it.” Levy didn’t even give Juvia the time to breathe when she announced, “it’s Aquarius!”

The name breathed life to the fan-girl in Juvia. Gray could only cover his ears from all the fan-girl screaming. As the Hoopster watched his girlfriend and her friend jumped around in circle, he realized how it was for Julian Lockser. This was a girl thing he apparently wasn’t a part of.

“She’s so blown away by your chemistry that she wanted to see you two in a more sensual dance.”

The word made Juvia stop dead in her jumping, which made the whole celebratory jumping awkward. Levy was left hopping on her own.

“Sensual?”

The memory of the bag of “protection” Olivia brought came haunting her again.

…

Social dancing wasn’t Juvia’s cup of tea. She was a ballerina through and through. So, the producers of the show hired a coach to teach Gray and Juvia one of the most intimate and fiery dances for couples – the Tango.

Lyon Vastia was one of Magnolia’s top dancers. He met with today’s hottest dance loveteam – Gruvia, as their fans fondly call them on tweetit. Juvia heard about him. They ran within same circle but it was the first time she met him face to face. Juvia, however, had other pressing concern, such as Levy’s announcement.

“Aquarius said she will be visiting you guys during training.”

The ballerina wasn’t sure if the radical heartbeat was due to excitement, pressure, or nerves. Probably, all of the above. Yet, she was thankful. All these fantasies she had about Gray, his hair between her fingers and abs under her fingertips, flown out the window. She couldn’t even care less about this Lyon guy who was apparently trying to catch her attention.

“We’ll have the team take video footage too.” Levy informed.

“I guess we should jump into it then.” Lyon started.

Juvia couldn’t agree more.

The ballroom instructor started their stretching. He was quite handsy with Juvia, which earned an obviously indiscreet hiss from Fiore Knight’s MVP. Juvia could tell her boyfriend did not like this Lyon guy one bit.

…

Gray narrowed his midnight blue eyes at the dance coach with the funny bluish-silver hair. At first, he thought the coach was gay or something. He had never met a guy who was as limber as that Lyon guy. But with the way he was holding and looking at Juvia, Gray was convinced otherwise.

The green-eyed monster stomped over where Lyon was teaching the ballerina basic steps in Tango. Wasn’t this handsy Lyon supposed to be teaching him? Among the three of them, Gray wasn’t the professional dancer.

“I think I got it.” Gray proclaimed as he insinuated himself between the two and took what was rightfully his.

The Hoopster tried to remember where Lyon placed his hands on Juvia. He placed his open palm at the small of Juvia’s back and enclosed one hand in his. Jealousy blocked his view; he didn’t notice Juvia suddenly blushing at the contact. But looking into her blue stunned eyes, Gray became worried.

“You nervous?” He started a conversation.

“A little.” Juvia responded.

But Gray could recognize the tension on her worried eyes.

“We’ll gonna do fine. Better even.”

Little did he know, Aquarius wasn’t the reason why Juvia was all red and tensed.

“Hey, guys. I’m still here.”

Lyon tried to catch the couple’s attention but Gray enjoyed ignoring him.

…

Juvia’s mind was in a mess and it was in a contest with her heart. Her heartbeat was erratic and she knew exactly why – Gray was standing in front of her, smiling with that sinfully sexy smile of his, holding her with heat that penetrated through her skin and entire being.

When it was Lyon’s hands on her, her body had no reaction. Her mind was still on the fact that she needed to impress her childhood dance hero yet again. But when it was Gray, when it was that raven-haired Hoopster who stood inches away from her, when it was his hands that pulled her closer against him, her whole body was electrified.

“You nervous?”

“A little.” Juvia couldn’t fully comprehend the question. She lost her voice for a moment before she responded. Her mind was still focused on Gray’s lips.

“We’ll gonna do fine.”

At the back of her mind, Olivia’s voice was telling her to just go for it.

“Better even.”

Juvia wondered, were they talking about the dance or…

“Hey guys, I’m still here.”

Lyon’s presence made her realize that yes, it was about the dance.

Focus, Juvia!

…

Juvia called for a time-out. She needed a break from Gray’s electrifying touch. It was definitely reminding her that she was twenty five and she was a woman. But above all, that she was a professional. So, in order to regain her senses and composure, Juvia needed to step away from that gorgeous distraction.

Juvia got a tumbler full of water from the dispenser. She dabbed a towel all over her face and placed it around her neck. Juvia watched the bustle inside her studio. On one end, there was a group of men and women in black shirts with the word ‘crew’ printed at the back. Then, there was Shrimp, leading a discussion with a circle of writers. She scribbled on her notes every now and then. At the other end, not too far from where the dance coach was resting, there was her boyfriend – Gray Fullbuster. She watched him take out a towel from his duffle and bury his face on it. Then he sat on the floor with legs spread open. He unceremoniously downed the water from his own tumbler.

Juvia saw the Hoopster threw what clearly was a dirty look. The recipient was the unsuspecting dance coach. A cute little snicker escaped the ballerina’s lips and a smile painted itself on her face. She found it amusing. Gray was a full grown man; Juvia was reminded of that fact with the way he held her, kissed her and the way he made her feel that only Gray could make her feel. Sometimes, however, she was reminded of how they first met. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise if the Hoopster – her Hoopster – acted like a child; just like how Gray was acting jealous of the new dance coach.

She also found it cute how Gray would throw himself at and in between Juvia and Lyon, purposely but discreetly, especially when the dance coach got unnecessarily close. He’d use his body and block Lyon’s alleged advances. He would say he got the step when he obviously has not. Gray was acting so possessive he ended up as the female partner with Lyon taking the lead. The ballerina mentally noted Gray’s fall from glory and promised herself to tease the Hoopster about it, endlessly.

“Hey Juvs!”

Juvia knew that shriek even if she had her back from it.

“Aquarius is in the building.”

Juvia sprayed the water out before she could swallow it. Good thing Levy was in a good distance. Otherwise, she would have taken a second shower.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

Juvia heard it the first time but her ears couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah.” Levy refused to repeat it. “She’s coming right up here.”

Juvia didn’t know what to do. She wanted to scold herself but that she couldn’t even do. Her mind went totally dark. Panic rooted her on the floor until the door finally spitted out Magnolia’s Prima Ballerina.

“So are you just gonna stand there?”

Juvia jumped at the low voice. She managed to turn around and face the owner.

“Go say hi.” Gray suggested.

But before Juvia could utter another word, her ballet hero already approached them.

“Magnolia’s favorite dance couple.” Aquarius addressed them. “Gruvia, right?” She probably recognized the surprise in Juvia’s eyes when she explained, “I read the news and I’m on tweetit too.”

Aquarius’ heels tapped on the wooden floor as she approached the couple. Confidence put a slight bounce on her steps. She gave them a once-over; one that made Juvia’s heartbeat triple. But Magnolia’s Prima Ballerina and the show’s Head Judge was not trying to be intimidating. The friendly smile on Aquarius’ thin lips said so.

The sight stunned Juvia for a second, not able to believe her own eyes. But lo and behold, it was her childhood dance hero, in the flesh.

“Welcome, Ms. Aquarius.” It was Gray who extended his hand towards the guest and placed a soft peck at the back of her palm.

“Oh, Mr. Fullbuster, always the charmer.” Aquarius giggled.

Only when Aquarius’ expectant eyes landed on Juvia did she remember her manners. She almost kissed her hand when she realized that wasn’t how you do it.

“Ms. Aquarius, it’s such an honor.” When Juvia was able to compose herself, she managed to spit out coherent words.

Juvia didn’t actually hear what her dance hero said but the latter’s lips read ‘lovely’.

Aquarius looked around the studio. There was an air about Aquarius that reminded Juvia of the older version of herself – Olivia Lockser.

“Lovely studio.” That one Juvia heard but the Prima Ballerina’s back was still at her.

She wasn’t judging my studio, was she?

A sudden want to impress Juvia’s dance hero hit her.

“Ms. Aquarius!” The dance instructor emerged from behind Gray. “We haven’t been introduced but I am Lyon Vastia,” He extended his arm to receive the hand of the Prima Ballerina. “I’m the tango instructor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” But instead of shaking her hand, Lyon repeated what Gray did earlier.

Chivalry wasn’t dead in this generation.

Aquarius answered him with a timid smile of modesty. Then, she asked him for an update as to the dance challenge. Lyon Vastia gave her the rundown, only good words to say about the couple. Aquarius looked pretty happy about it. She spun around and turned to Juvia with eager eyes and satisfied smile.

Juvia wasn’t sure what to do so her returned smile appeared rather awkward.

“Do you two have any idea why I picked Tango?”

It was the childish Hoopster who answered, “’Cause my chest would look good in that deep V polo shirt?”

Aquarius began to giggle as if something clever was said.

“No, Mr. Fullbuster. Although that’s one of the reasons.” She teased back.

Juvia should really start jumping in the conversation but she couldn’t seem to find the right timing.

“I suggested Tango because you two have no idea how your chemistry is overflowing.” Aquarius’ suspicious blue eyes jumped between Gray and Juvia. Then, an idea made the corner of her mouth tip. “It’s so overflowing I’m beginning to think this isn’t just for TV.” A lone eyebrow teased a little.

Juvia gave out a nervous laugh – one which raised some brows around the room and felt like required some explanation. But thanks to the male crew carrying an on-standby handheld broadcast camcorder, Juvia was saved by the bell.

“Ms. Aquarius, we’re ready for you.”

“Alright.” Aquarius quickly replied. Then, she excused herself from the group. She walked across the room and towards the interview set-up. A crewmember put on her lapel and asked her to sit on the comfortable armchair.

The Prima Ballerina easily talked into the camera as if she was giving an interview. Gray and Juvia went over to watch. They both agreed that the fifty-year old ballerina looked good both on and off screen.

“When you dance, you don’t just move with your body.” Aquarius said in ease like she was used to being on camera. “You move with your mind, your heart and your soul.”

Juvia’s amused eyes were glued on the Prima Ballerina and every word that came out of Aquarius’s mouth fascinated Juvia. But there was something she said that caught the young ballerina’s attention.

“That’s why they said that dancing is like making love.”

Now, where did she hear that before?

...

Writer’s Corner: Hello there, loves! So, as you all know, I forgot my laptop at the city I work in. Because of the Corona Virus plaguing the world today, our region declared a community quarantine, which means I can’t travel so freely. Hence, the new photo header. Also, I hope everyone is doing okay despite this pandemic scare. I hope you guys stay at home and be healthy. Lastly, please look forward for my Gruvia Week entries this 2020. Love you!

#gray x juvia #gruvia #she's in your court #siyc #gruvia au #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gruvia isn't dead #gruvia forever #modern gruvia #writeblr #gruvia fanfiction #gruvia fanfic #gruvia modern au

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years ago

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A love that never leaves (11)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Descriptions of depression. Some pretty heavy sads.

A/N: Flashback time. Grief can be all consuming and overwhelming. This time, we follow her while she tries to learn how to live again, before a night in 1946 changes everything.

And again...I am sorry.

Links don’t work, so if you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

Previously...

In her hand, is a ripped piece of faded blue cloth, with a familiar gray patch sewn into it; smudgy rust-red splotches color the edges like fingerprints.

Wings. Gray wings. Nostalgically familiar, because back in the war, each of the Howling Commandos wore one on their left sleeve, a mirror image tribute to the one painted on Steve’s helmet.

Including Bucky. Who wore one on the left sleeve of his coat.

The left sleeve of his blue coat.

Now, he stares uncomprehendingly at the piece of cloth. “What - “ he starts, but his voice fades. Small shivers are running through her body as she watches him, her face filled with dread. Taking a shaky breath, she whispers.

“There was one other time we met.”

*****

February 1945

The telegram informing her of Bucky’s death, written in Steve Rogers’ messy, cursive scrawl, sits on her kitchen table for a week. Across the creamy white paper are crinkled watermarks and trickles of black ink, where the paper swallowed her teardrops and bled out the sorrow of Steve’s words. One night, in a fit of anger, she tears it to shreds and feeds each piece to the hungry flames licking up the stone wall of her fireplace. There is immediate relief at the words disappearing, but even without their physical presence, the grief always returns.

March 1945

The plush wool feels soft in her hands. A week after his last visit, she saw the bundle in a storefront and bartered two of her old dresses for it; the color was a simple heather gray, but she knew it would look perfect against the deep blue of his coat. Every evening, she would knit until her fingers ached, but in a few weeks, she had a thick wool scarf, one of her old hair ribbons tied around it for a bow. She thought she would keep it as his birthday gift. Now, on what would have been Bucky’s 28th birthday, she wraps it around her neck and crawls into bed. Sleep doesn’t come, but every memory of him arrives like a fresh bullet, punched clean through her chest.

May 1945

Over! The war is over! Relieved cries reverberate through the town when VE Day arrives, children running down streets screaming with excitement, mothers and widows weeping joyously in the streets. Healing will take decades, but with those words, the world begins to plan for what comes next. Life is breathed back into the village and in the crowded town square, she lifts her face to the sunshine and closes her eyes. Fingers the chain around her neck holding the St. Michael medal Bucky gave her for their engagement, and wonders if she will ever be warm again.

July 1945

Wildflowers grow in riotous bursts of yellow and red and purple, filling the space behind her chicken coop with color. Laying amid the blooms, she sits in the baking summer sun, tracing her fingers over the colorful images on the postcards Bucky gave her. She thinks about traveling. About visiting those places, seeing them with new eyes, free from war. When she looks at the Brooklyn postcard, she wonders about visiting his family, but then she sees the crooked hearts he drew on the back, and she knows it would be too much. She puts the cards away.

September 1945

Leaves begin to fall, carpeting the grassy bank near the stream. Going through the motions, she dumps clothes from her basket, dunking them in the gurgling water, scrubbing them clean under crystal clear moonlight. Humming under her breath, she sings to pass the time, but the only words she can find are the ones she sang the first night Bucky found her by the creek and walked her home. We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. It hurts too much, so she just stops singing.

October 1945

Soldiers have been returning for weeks. Gaunt and haunted, new men arrive every few days, and do their best to pick up the threads of their old lives. One Saturday morning, she walks through the stalls of the market, examining produce and talking with the vendors. A young soldier steps aside to let her pass, quickly pulling off his hat and smiling. Offering a quiet hello in response, she finishes her shopping and leaves; the soldier jogs after her and nervously asks, could he perhaps walk her home? The earnest look in his eyes is so familiar, it makes her sick. She gently tells him no.

December 1945

Taking a sharp kitchen knife, she goes into the trees and cuts an armful of pine boughs. She spreads them through her house, taking deep breaths of the sharp, piney scent. In the white vase on her table, she tucks them carefully in place and adds a small sprig of holly, the red berries shining brightly. Curled in the armchair beside her fire, she drinks tea and listens to the staticky crackle of Christmas hymns on her new radio. It’s a daily battle, but it happens. Life really does go on.

February 1946

Coming home late one evening, she unlocks her back door and hangs her coat in the hallway. Rubbing chilly hands together, she walks into her kitchen and turns on the light. She skids to a stop. Filling the small space, are two hulking men dressed in black. One steps forward and quickly grabs her arms, while the other plays with a length of rope and smiles at her. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Someone wants a word.”

There’s a cursory struggle, but she doesn’t fight hard. She thinks to herself, if they kill her, maybe she’ll see Bucky on the other side.

That thought makes her smile, before the world goes dark.

*****

For the second time in her life, she awakens in a cold cell. Stretching her aching limps, she knows immediately this most certainly isn’t heaven.

Hell has a very specific look to it. One she knows far too intimately by now.

The small cell is clean, containing a lumpy bed and a worn blanket; in the corner is a pitcher of water and a bucket, and high on the wall is a small window letting in slivers of light. Her hands are bound in front of her, rough pieces of rope looped so tight around her wrists, the skin has rubbed itself raw. Blood soaks into the bristly rope fibers, staining it with streaks of black.

Where is she this time?

Leaning back against the wall, she blows out a long breath and there’s a strange satisfaction in her realization.

She just doesn’t care.

*****

Hours or maybe days later, her door creaks open. Outlined in the doorframe, is a tall Hydra guard dressed all in black, a mask over his face, a pair of reflective goggles covering his eyes. When he sees her, the gun in his hands trembles the slightest bit, before it steadies once more.

So, she thinks. Here it comes.

Motioning with the gun, the guard indicates she should stand, but she mutinously stays on the bed. If she has to go, she will be defiant to the end.

Stepping forward, he hesitates briefly, before grasping the rope and jerking her to her feet. Balancing his gun at the back of her neck, he pushes her forward.

Down a long hall they go, moving through a set of wooden doors. With a mute resistance, she refuses to walk, forcing him to physically drag her instead. Finally, he simply picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, stalking down the hallway with a series of breathless grunts.

She kicks him the entire way.

When he arrives at a heavy oak door, he bangs three times and throws it open.

The room is surprising. This is no torture chamber, filled with metal tables and metal chairs and the metallic taste of electricity on her tongue. It is warm and cozy, a roaring fireplace on one wall, armchairs strewn casually around, tall shelves lined with books.

In the middle of the room, stands Colonel Richter, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Please, come in,” he says cordially, laughter in his voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The guard dumps her in a sprawling heap and departs. In the flickering firelight, she struggles awkwardly to her feet and readies for battle.

“You again. What do you want? You know I won’t help you,” she snaps, her eyes roaming around the room, searching for threats.

Richter looks amused. Sipping his whiskey, he comes slowly closer until he is only inches from her face.

“First things first. Before, when you stole away in the dead of night - that was a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The quick crack of his backhand sends her stumbling sideways. The heavy ring he wears rips open a fat gash on her cheek and she instantly feels blood begin to ooze.

“Such language for a lady. Did you learn that from him? Let’s try again, shall we? I have a story for you and I’d like you to listen,” he says. “A few months ago, we were working on him and in the middle of one of his delirious rants, I hear something interesting. Can you guess?”

Glaring at him, she remains silent.

“No guesses?” he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Alright then. Through all the screaming and crying, I hear him say your god damn name. Imagine my surprise.”

The first prickles of confused fear skate up her back. “What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out.

“It took some digging, but we managed to trace the path he and that wretched group of assholes from his unit made the last couple years of the war. I sent a few search parties out, and low and behold - here you are.”

Bucky told her once, how he and Captain Rogers parachuted from an airplane. She remembers him laughing about the free-fall, how it made his stomach swoop in a million directions. That feeling of free-falling sweeps over her now, turning her blood to ice.

“What do you mean? Who?”

Richter smiles widely, his eyes gleaming. Grabbing the bloody ropes around her wrists, he yanks her forward and pushes her into the shadowy corner of the room.

“Wait here. I have a surprise for you.”

Outside the door, she hears voices arguing. The scuffle of feet and the sharp bite of an angry voice. Suddenly, the door swings open and four guards enter, dragging a fifth man.

From the dark shadows, she muffles a scream.

Bucky looks exhausted. Dressed in a long-sleeved green shirt and ragged brown pants, he’s thinner than the last time she saw him. Rings of black circle his eyes, the vibrant blue now dull and listless. All his beautiful dark hair has been buzzed short and she can see bloody sores scabbing over along his temples. The left sleeve of his wool shirt is empty, pinned up at his shoulder and his right arm is tucked behind him, a leather strap looped around his wrist and stretched across his chest, keeping his good arm immobile.

“You didn’t tell me it was a party,” he rasps mockingly. “I would’ve put on my fancy clothes.”

One of the guards grabs a fistful of his shirt and drags him closer. “Jesus Christ, I am so fucking sick of your fucking mouth,” he sneers and Bucky shoots him a cocky grin.

“Sweetheart, you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he stage-whispers. In the blink of an eye, the guard draws back his arm and smashes his fist into Bucky’s face. Dropping to his knees, Bucky’s mocking laugh turns into a rattling cough that comes up with a spray of blood and he spits strings of red on the floor. “Like being kissed by your mom,” he says weakly.

Swearing ferociously, the guard moves to kick him, but Richter holds up his hand.

“For god’s sake, every fucking time. You know he does this, why do you let him get to you?”

The guard is visibly furious, but he says nothing. Instead, he grabs Bucky by the back of his shirt, hauling him roughly to his feet. Bucky sways precariously, before he finds his balance. Taking several deep breaths, he fixes his mouth back into that mocking smirk and lifts his chin.

“Evening boys. What the fuck can I do for you today?”

Richter gives him a congenial smile. “We have a visitor tonight. I thought perhaps you’d like to meet her.”

Bucky barks out a hollow laugh. “I sincerely fuckin’ doubt that.”

Richter’s smile grows impossibly larger. “Well, let’s see, shall we?”

Pulling her from the shadows, he throws her forward and she stumbles into the light.

Here’s the thing.

Bucky Barnes is so weak, he can barely stay on his feet. For the last five days, he’s eaten nothing more than a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. When he walks, he greatly favors his right side, still unbalanced by the loss of his left arm even a year later, and when he speaks, his voice has a perpetually guttural sound, his vocal cords shredded from months of screaming. Sprinkled across his shaved head, are a mess of pink scars where the dull razor blades they used bit cruelly into his scalp.

He looks exactly as one would expect. A prisoner of war.

For weeks, he’s been on the verge of collapse, but the moment he sees her, none of that matters.

Horrified disbelief fills his face and his eyes flick from the tears on her face, to the trickle of blood down her cheek, to the blood-soaked ropes around her wrists.

With a feral howl, he lunges toward her.

Throwing off the shocked guards at his side, he head-butts the man in front of him, sending him flying back. With a well-aimed kick, he knocks the legs from under the fourth guard and the man falls hard, before Bucky levels a savage kick to his head.

Richter laughs delightedly as he watches the show, until Bucky rushes for him. Lifting his gun, he sets it casually against her temple and cocks it. At the click of the hammer, Bucky skids to a stop, his mouth still twisted in a vicious snarl. Sweat dripping down his face, blood dripping from his busted lip, his chest heaves furiously.

“You god damn motherfucking cocksucking piece of shit, you let her go. Let her fuckin’ go, or I’ll fuckin’ gut you.”

“I thought so,” Richter says smugly. “So, our Soldier has something to fight for. How utterly inconvenient.”

“You’re god damn straight I fuckin’ do,” Bucky hisses, staggering under the rush of adrenaline. “Hurt her and I swear to god, I swear to fuckin’ god, I will slit your fuckin’ throat.”

With a dramatic sigh, Richter keeps his eyes on Bucky and bends down to speak in her ear.

“Apparently this one’s special, fights harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. Every time we wipe him, every memory comes back in a couple days. I don’t know what Zola did to him, but his brain fixes it too fast. Basically, he just won't fucking stay down.”

“Fuck no I won’t,” Bucky interrupts.

“See what I mean? You know what happened last time,” Richter says softly, his breath hot in her ear. “I don’t care if he is Zola’s little pet, he’s a wild fucking animal and I’m not above putting him down. So here we are. You fix him or I kill him. Your choice.”

“What the fuck is he talking about,” Bucky asks, looking directly at her now. “What - darlin, what the hell does he mean?”

Looking into his eyes, she thinks about that lovely blue. For the rest of her life, she knows she will see it everywhere. In everything.

Behind him, the guard he head-butted lumbers to his feet and manages to get his forearm locked around Bucky’s neck.

Richter stands behind her, waiting. Against her skin, he presses a light kiss and she shudders at the hideous feel.

“Come now. You love him, don’t you? Do the right thing.”

Clasped in a tight chokehold, she can see Bucky’s face turning red as he splutters for breath.

“No,” she chokes out. “I won’t. I won’t.”

Cruel fingers dig into the back of her neck and he hisses in her ear. “If you say no, I will put him in that chair and fry his fucking brain every single day for the rest of his life and I will make you watch. Even if he heals fast, he still screams like a baby. Trust me on that one.”

Bucky is still fighting, his throat working uselessly as he tries to draw a breath.

Every scenario, every choice, every possibility, flies through her head. Trying desperately to come up with a solution, with a way to save them both, she thinks and thinks and thinks.

And she comes up empty, because the answer is simple.

There is no solution.

Then what choice does she have?

She remembers the parade of men from before, the sound of their screams as the chair rocked bolts of electricity through them again and again. The thought of Bucky strapped in that chair, his body convulsing as the electric currents wrack his body, as he screams for her to help him - it is inconceivable. She knows what she has to do. She knows.

What choice does she have?

“Yes,” she sobs, her eyes filling with tears. “Fine, yes, I’ll do it, please just - let him go.”

Motioning to the guard, Richter points at the floor. The man releases his death-grip on Bucky’s throat, kicking his feet from under him and Bucky falls hard to his knees. Wrenching herself from Richter’s harsh grip, she rushes to catch him before Bucky’s face hits the floor.

“You have one minute,” Richter warns, fading into the shadows of the dark room. “And then you do it. If you leave anything behind again, I will kill him.”

After everything, here they are. Together.

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, the warm light cocoons them in their own world, one last time.

Bucky rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes when she cradles his thin frame against her. In the quiet room, his short, shallow breaths echo raggedly. Carefully, she runs her fingers soothingly up his neck, over the spiky tufts of dark hair and his body wilts in her tight embrace.

Sighing wearily, he picks his head up and touches his forehead to hers. Cupping his face, she brushes her fingers over the scratchy stubble lining his sunken cheeks and he gives her a rueful smile.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking. You okay with a one-armed husband?” he breathes. “Promise I can still love you just as hard.”

Tears streaming down her face, she returns his smile. “I love it. It makes you look dashing.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he replies, pushing his nose against hers. Precious seconds slip by as they sit in silence, breathing each other in. Both trying their damndest to remember everything about the other, before they lose it all. Finally, she whispers her favorite words in his ear.

“I love you, Bucky.”

He hums contentedly and smiles. “I love you too. Don’t ever forget it, okay? I know I won’t.”

It takes every last drop of willpower for her not break down. Because he will forget. He will forget, and she will make certain that he does.

Rubbing her cheek against his, she presses her lips to the shell of his ear, giving him one more thing that the rest of the world cannot take. Something that is theirs, and theirs alone.

“You’re everything for me, Bucky Barnes. You’re the love of my life,” she murmurs, and he leans his head against her. When he opens his eyes, she finds an endless ocean of sadness pouring from the blue depths and he speaks quickly under his breath.

“Listen to me. Whatever happens, I need you to do something for me, okay?” The desperate urgency in his voice makes her heart skip. “No matter what happens, don’t you dare stay here. I can see it in your face honey, don’t you stay here, stuck in this room inside your head, thinking you could’ve done something different. You understand me?”

Swallowing hard, she tries to answer, but he cuts her off. The words are full of fear, holding a message he needs her to accept. “Please, I’m begging you. When you get out of here, you find a way to go on. Find a way to live.”

Losing him again will break her. That fact is as certain as the sun rising in the east.

There’s no way she can do this again, but in her heart, she knows that’s not what he needs. He needs her to agree, he needs her to try, and if she has to send his mind into a graveyard of buried memories, at least she can do this one thing for him.

She owes their love that much.

“I will,” she says. “I promise, I will.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers with a tired smile. Staring into his eyes, she does everything she can to memorize the love she finds there, before Bucky gives her a crooked smile and tells her one more secret. “You know what? I don’t regret anything that happened. If I had to do it all over, I wouldn’t change one damn thing. It all led me to you, and I’ll remember every piece of us to the end. Because this kind of love, it never leaves. Right?”

“No, it never leaves,” she echoes. Placing her hands on his cheeks, she kisses him full on the mouth, tasting blood and salt and love, trying with her whole heart to carve even a small bit of herself into his bones.

Breaking the kiss, her heart plummets at the sight of his sweet smile.

Blinking away her tears, she takes a deep breath.

And then she tears her entire world apart.

Surprise fills Bucky’s face when he feels the heat begin to pulse from her hands, when he sees the soft glow of white light from her fingers. Watching her in confusion, his lips part as though he wants to say something, but no words come. Concentrating harder than she ever has before, she gathers everything, all those beautiful memories that make Bucky Barnes the man he has become and she wipes them all away.

All his stories about the Howling Commandos. That spring day he caught a foul ball at a Dodgers game. Steve Rogers’ floppy blond hair shining in the summer sun at Coney Island. The way his mother sang while she baked, and the fairytales he read his sister before bed. How he felt looking in the mirror the first time he put on his uniform, pale and scared to death. Watching a brilliant red sun sinking in the ocean, the day he sailed for England. Every memory he has of her. The thrill of their first kiss and the way she held his arm when he walked her home from church and the first time they made love and how nervous he felt asking her to marry him.

How god damn much he loves her.

Every colorful memory he owns, she siphons away. Nothing is left behind, because this time, she can take no chances.

The white light burns hotter, so bright Bucky squeezes his eyes closed and still she watches him through it all, until finally, finally, finally -

She lets go.

Bucky slumps unconscious, his chin tucked to his chest. Pressing one final kiss to his forehead, her silent tears splash to the floor. She wants to stay forever, to be there when he opens his eyes, to force herself back into this new life, to make him remember her. To make him remember who they are together.

My god. Oh my god, what has she done.

Before she can say a word, the guards rip him from her arms. Dragging him away, his head lolls to the side and the last thing she sees, before they exit the room, are Bucky’s eyes beginning to flutter open.

“Wait -“ she says, panic filling every last cell in her body, “no, please wait, don’t - please, where are you taking him?”

“He has work to do,” Richter says dismissively.

Sick with heartbreak and drowning in regret, she remains kneeling on the floor, and every last piece of her soul shatters.

*****

Day later, there’s a screech of metal, and her door bangs open.

Richter saunters in, a length of cloth folded over his arm. Behind him, is the Hydra guard who escorted her from her cell last time, his gun cocked and aimed.

Caked in dried mud and an obscene amount of blood, the bright blue of Bucky’s Howlie jacket is nearly unrecognizable. The left arm is mostly torn away, the thick material hanging in ragged strips below the elbow. With a grunt, Richter tears away a piece of fabric at the shoulder and tosses it at her.

“Here. Thought you might want this,” he says coldly.

At her feet, the cloth looks dark and dirty, but in the midst of grimy blue, she sees the gray wings Bucky had sewn into his jacket sleeve. She remembers tracing her fingers over them, asking what they meant. Bucky had grinned, his chest swelling with a bit of pride, before he wove tales for her about the Howling Commandos. He glossed over their missions and focused on the men instead, and she remembers how wonderfully he could tell a story. The small bits of humor he found amid the bleakness of war painted a bright world for her to see.

Now, she picks it up, touching the rusty-red smudges lining the edges of the wings. She looks up at him.

“Why?”

Richter says nothing, but a grim smile pulls at his lips. He draws out the pause, savoring the expectation in her face, before carelessly dropping a bomb.

“Zola lost him during a routine experiment. He coded on the table. Guess we haven’t made our soldiers as durable as we need just yet.”

This bomb, it finishes the job Steve’s telegram began. For the second time, she learns the love of her life is dead and now there is nothing but cold emptiness where her heart used to be.

“We no longer require your services. We have a new machine that should work just fine,” he tilts his head, looking down at her. “But thank you for your help.”

Spinning on his heel, he shoves the remains of the blue coat at the guard still waiting in the doorway.

“Burn it,” he orders. “And leave her here to rot.”

The door bangs shut and the lock clicks with a sickening finality.

*****

No food. No water.

For two days, she hears footsteps marching back and forth in front of her door. Something seems to be happening, but through it all, no one pays attention to the woman locked in the cell at the end of the hall, waiting to die.

In her dreams, she sees Bucky strapped to a table exactly like the one they used for her. Was he scared? Did he go willingly or did he fight? Did it happen quickly? Did it hurt? Did he realize what was happening before his heart stopped?

Was there any part of him, maybe buried deep down, that loved her to the end?

She dismisses that last thought. No, of course there wasn’t. She made sure of that fact.

In a strange way, she finds a perverse relief in Bucky’s death. At least this way, he will never know how she betrayed him.

Perhaps if there is an afterlife, someday she can find him there and beg his forgiveness.

On the morning of the third day, sunlight flows through the rectangular window near the ceiling and she waits on her bed. For someone to come. Anyone. To save her. To kill her. Either would work, she’s not picky. Watching the slow crawl of sunlight move across the floor, she counts the minutes, until she notices something peculiar.

Silence.

Sitting up takes a massive effort and rising to her feet almost knocks her out. Knees wobbling dangerously, her sweaty hand presses to the wall for balance, and she stumbles to the door.

“Hello?” she croaks, but it comes as nothing more than a rough whisper. Wrapping her fingers around the bars of the door, she rests her forehead against the cold metal. Summoning her strength, she tries again. “Is anyone there?”

Silence.

No one answers. No lights illuminate the hallway. There is no hum of electricity, no sound of a distant radio playing, no raucous laughter. There is no one there.

So. They left her to die then.

Angry tears fill her eyes, and she bangs a weak fist on the door. Without expecting a solution, she grabs the door handle and rattles it, hot tears spilling over and streaking through the dirt on her cheeks.

But miraculously - the door opens.

Stepping cautiously into the doorway, she scans the hallway and finds nothing. Perplexed, she looks down and her confusion grows. Outside the door, a cloth bundle is propped against the wall. Crouching down, she hesitantly pulls at the loose knot and it falls open, revealing a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, two apples, and a cracked leather canteen full of water.

Common sense screams at her to think, but she throws caution to the wind. Grabbing the canteen with trembling fingers, she flips the lid and chugs the cold water. It has a dusty, alkaline taste, but she cries with relief. Tearing off a hunk of bread, she stuffs it in her mouth, her eyes drifting closed at the taste. It hits the hollowness in her belly so fast, she almost retches, but she manages to keep it down.

The rest, she wraps up in the cloth sack and hugs it to her chest.

She walks down the hall. Through a small office, down another hall.

With every step, she expects to be stopped. But nothing happens.

At the end of the hall, is a heavy black door. When she opens it, sunlight spills in and she takes a deep breath of fresh air.

From the outside, the base looks like a series of old buildings, but there is literally nothing else. No people. No vehicles. Nothing but the peppy chirp of birds warbling in the trees. For one brief moment, she stands in the morning light and thinks about giving up. Such a soothing thought.

But then the sound of Bucky’s voice fills her head.

Find a way to live.

The years that follow will be filled with devastating sadness, but beneath it all, she will hold these words close to her heart. She can do this for him.

So, she starts walking.

Down the ruts of the narrow access road leading away from the building, one foot in front of the other. She anticipates bullets hitting her from behind, but nothing happens. On she walks, through a forest of trees, one step after another. Into the open, where the access road joins up with a small country lane. She turns left and keeps going. Five slow miles she traipses along, until a town appears.

On the edge of the main street, she sees a small grocery store and walks inside. Covered in grime, shivering from head to toe, she tries to speak, but instead, she collapses. An older woman looks up from behind the counter, and her curls of thick black hair bounce when she rushes around the front counter shouting in Italian for help.

For two weeks, she stays there recovering, but no one comes.

In that sleepy Italian town, she finally understands.

After everything she has done, after everything they stole from her, after they broke her one last time - it appears that Hydra really was finished with her.

With freedom should come relief, but that is an emotion reserved for saints, not sinners like her. What she has done, she can never undo.

She will live with that fact, from now until the end of her days.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fic #altnl

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